#this is now top of my “favorite types of jealousy” list

[incandescentflower]

"Even if you said you didn't care, you were actually feeling jealous?"

"Do you want to find out? In bed."

Excuse me while I combust

#love is better the second time around #koi wo suru nara nidome ga joto #they threw that in and then had the audacity to fade to black #this is now top of my “favorite types of jealousy” list #and the marking #they are a serene placid lake holding back a raging fire #I can't take it

[luxlisbons]

Voulez-Vous? - part i

Mencken's ego takes a hit when Harriet's eye wanders to the newly elected French president. In response, he engineers a grand state dinner, turning diplomatic affairs into a battlefield of jealousy.

part of the "before there's hell to pay" universe: part i - part ii - part iii

pairing: jeryd mencken x original female character. 4k

warnings: affairs, unhealthy relationships, dubious morality, explicit language, age difference, smut, religious imagery & symbolism, unprotected sex, pov first person, the french

a/n: lmao so... this idea came to be thanks to @rxgirlie and i's obsession with a current french actor known for playing a lawyer in a film (iykyk), so picture him as marcel reynaud (who will make his appearance in the second part). thank you so much to Kels and my friend Lu @nyheartbreak for proofreading and encouraging me to post this.

Read on AO3.

It all started with an online poll. The Buzzfeed type of crap you read while waiting for the clock to strike 5 pm in your crummy little open space office. 

“The definitive list of the 10 hottest presidents”

Usually, despite his very alienating politics, Mencken would place number one. What can I say? Everyone loves a bad boy, especially one they can fix with sex. Attention was brought to his steely gaze, the danger and confidence he exuded in his speeches, and his past as a 90s rock band member:

“Okay but 90s Mencken??? Twink goals, honestly😍”

“Mencken got me like 😱🔥”

“I never thought I'd say this, but Jeryd Mencken, you're kinda hot 😅 “

“He is such a silver fox zaddy 🦊”

His unofficial title became “Silver Fox in Chief”, and it gave us tabloid fodder for when we wanted to deflect from his racist dog whistles and controversial actions in D.C., which was a lot of the time for very obvious reasons. We were like puppet masters pulling the strings, orchestrating this wild media circus around Mencken. It was a classic ATN move, redirecting attention from the messy stuff and instead shining the spotlight on Mencken's supposed charm.

We brainstormed catchy hashtags and encouraged people to share their favorite Mencken moments online. It was all about creating a narrative that suited our agenda – making him this irresistible figure, a distraction from the serious issues at hand. We knew how to play the game, and damn, did it work. The internet ate it up, and suddenly, Mencken was not just a president; he was a phenomenon.

The internet had found a new obsession; fancams flooded the internet– from the way he adjusted his tie to the subtle glances he threw at the camera during press conferences. TikTok became a breeding ground for creative edits, with old concert footage seamlessly synchronized to modern pop hits, each video racking up millions of views and fueling the ever-growing fandom. 

Twitter experienced a constant Mencken presence. Anytime the president made a public appearance or donned a new suit, his name would surge to the top of trending lists. The online obsession transcended political boundaries; even those who vehemently disagreed with Mencken's policies found themselves unable to resist his allure.

His press conferences were now attended not just by political journalists but also by entertainment reporters eager to capture the latest juicy details about the "hottest president" phenomenon. Mencken, bemused and enjoying the attention, tried to redirect the conversation to policy matters, while also stoking the fires with quips and acknowledgments of his sex symbol status.

His fanbase (which consisted of both ironic and genuine fans) even created a nickname for themselves: the “Mencken Fuckers”. They organized themselves into a formidable online community. They created fan art, fan fiction, and even fan-made music videos that further propelled the president into pop culture stardom. The group's ironic name didn't deter their dedication; they wore it as a badge of honor, unapologetically reveling in their unconventional admiration for the leader of the free world.

One such video caught my undivided attention while doomscrolling through TikTok late at night. It was one created with candid moments in which I appeared beside him, laughing and talking with Lana Del Rey’s song “Let The Light In” playing in the background. The chemistry between the both of us, set against the dreamy soundtrack, fueled speculation and excitement among the Mencken Fuckers. It both amused and mortified me how close to the actual truth they were.

Caption: "Is it just me, or are these two looking like the ultimate power duo? 👀💼💫 #CloseEncounters #PoliticalChemistry"

Comments:

1. @ShipperSupreme: Move over romance novels, this is the love story we didn't know we needed! 😂❤️

2. @CuriousMinds: Are we witnessing the birth of a new power couple? 👫💫

3. @LaughingWithLana: Lana Del Rey's song just makes this whole thing even more iconic! 🎶🔥

4. @Daydreamer_Deluxe: I ship it! 😍💘 Who needs reality when we can have this fantasy?

5. @RealityCheck: Wait, are we calling them #Menkenriet or #Harren now? 🤔

6. @CupidInTheComments: My arrows of love have found a new target! 💘🏹

7. @PoliticalLoveAffairs: Move aside, political drama; we're here for the romance! 🇺🇸❤️

I couldn’t help myself, I sent the link to Mencken, who after some technical wrangling on his part “I’m 54, of course I’m not gonna have Tik Tok installed for fuck’s sake” finally saw it.

The ringing of the phone cut through the silence of my empty apartment, startling General Meow from her nap and sending her scurrying toward the living room. I sighed, muttering to myself about the timing, and picked up after the first ring, feeling like a good little lap dog.

"Hey there, Mencken," I greeted, smirking to myself as I imagined his perplexed expression on the other end. "Ready for a little adventure in the world of internet?"

Mencken's voice echoed through the line, confusion lacing every word, "Harriet, what in the hell is going on? Why are people shipping us? Are we supposed to be getting something delivered?"

Suppressing a laugh, I explained, "No, Mencken, it's not about deliveries. It's a term they use on the internet when people want two characters or real people to be in a romantic relationship. They call it 'shipping.'"

There was a brief pause before Mencken asked incredulously, "Shipping? Like cargo and ships?"

I chuckled, covering my mouth to stifle the laughter. "Not quite. It's short for 'relationship.' They think we're the ultimate power couple, Mencken."

"Is this some kind of secret code or a new political term I missed in my briefings?" Mencken's confusion was palpable.

I couldn't help but tease, "No secret code, just internet slang. They're imagining us as this influential and glamorous duo."

Another pause, then Mencken's voice returned, this time more incredulous, "You're telling me there are people out there who think we're having an affair? With each other?"

"Yep, that's the gist of it. Welcome to the world of shipping, Mencken. It's a strange place," I replied, my grin growing wider. “And they've even given us a ship name – #Menckenriet. Catchy, right?" I couldn't help but enjoy the absurdity of it all.

Mencken sighed on the other end, probably shaking his head, "I can't believe this is happening."

"Embrace the fame, Mencken! Who knows, maybe we'll start a new trend in political shipping," I teased, still grinning.

There was a long-suffering sigh from Mencken. "I don't have time for this nonsense. I have a country to run."

"Your loss, Mencken. #Menckenriet could've been the political love story of the century," I quipped. 

As I prepared to hang up, he interjected with a serious tone, "Wait, do they actually know about us... you know, being intimate?"

My playful demeanor faltered for a moment. "No, Mencken. It's just speculation and fantasy. They don't know anything for sure."

Mencken sounded relieved, "Good. Let's keep it that way."

But before I could end the call, he added in a soft voice, "Clear up your schedule. I'm gonna drop by during the weekend." 

Since Rome, Mencken's hard veneer had chipped away. He made more time for me, wasn't as mean – well, still an asshole, but, as he put it, "Your asshole, sweetheart.” 

“Well, aren't you so romantic,” I mused mostly to myself, a wry smile playing on my lips.

“Yeah, well, I figured life's too short to be a constant jerk. Besides, dealing with you is marginally less irritating than dealing with most people," I couldn't suppress a laugh. High praise, indeed. Looking forward to the weekend then.

As the call concluded, I imagined Mencken shaking his head and muttering, "I'm too old for this." I let out a loud hyena cackle which leaves General Meow staring at me with her wide green eyes.

______________________________________________________________

And then the French presidential election happened. 

It was a tight race between three players, each one from a widely different part of the political spectrum. On one hand, the far-right candidate, the heiress of the National Rally, Marine Le Pen, was Mencken's pick. On the other hand, the incumbent President, Emmanuel Macron, stood as a centrist, aiming to maintain stability and balance in turbulent times. The third contender, Marcel Reynaud, a charismatic socialist from the left, caught the attention of many with his passionate speeches and a boyish yet distinguished appearance, with graying hair that hinted at wisdom beyond his years, reminiscent of a Dostoevsky prince.

As the campaign unfolded, Marcel Reynaud's popularity soared. His fiery rhetoric and genuine connection with the people resonated across various demographics. The public, weary of the traditional political dichotomy, found in him a fresh and appealing alternative. The French, tired of voting for the lesser of two evils, began to rally behind Reynaud, drawn by the promise of a new era and genuine change.

Reynaud's physical presence added an extra layer to his appeal. Imagine a man with rugged charm, grey tousled hair that hinted at rebelliousness, and piercing blue eyes that conveyed both intensity and empathy. His speeches, delivered with conviction, echoed a vision of a more inclusive and socially just France.

Election day arrived, and the people of France turned out in record numbers. The results trickled in, each update intensifying the suspense. When the final count was announced, it was Marcel Reynaud who emerged as the victor. The socialist left candidate had secured a historic win, breaking the stronghold of the traditional political forces.

As the news of his victory spread, so did the memes, fan art, and adoring posts dedicated to Marcel Reynaud. Internet users affectionately dubbed him the "French boyfriend," and hashtags like #ReynaudRevolution and #MarcelMania trended worldwide. He quickly dethroned Mencken as the hottest president online, captivating not just the French public but garnering attention on the global stage.

The internet was flooded with swooning comments about Reynaud's “elf” vibes, and fan accounts dedicated to his every move and policy decision multiplied. Memes comparing him to heroes from literature circulated, portraying him as the embodiment of a modern-day romantic lead. His charisma had transcended politics; he had become a symbol of a new era, both politically and personally.

______________________________________________________________

Mencken was not impressed. Despite being in his mid 50s, he still was a petty child underneath it all, mad about the spotlight being taken off him and given to a soy boy from France of all places. 

The ping of random texts, accompanied by a distinctive ringtone reserved exclusively for him, never failed to jolt me with a thrill, whether I was immersed in work or drifting off to sleep – a Pavlovian response he found pathetically endearing.

M "Just saw another damn article about Marcel Reynaud. 🙄 Apparently, he's the new poster boy for socialism. What a load of crap."

H: "Oh, Mencken, you're just jealous that Reynaud's stealing the limelight. 😏” 

M: "Another day, another interview with Reynaud. 📰 Can't escape the guy. Do you think he practices that brooding stare in the mirror?"

H: "Maybe he's born with it, maybe it's political strategy. 🤷🏻‍♀️"

M: "Thoughts on Marcel's new hairstyle? 💇‍♂️ Trying to figure out if he's attempting a political rebrand or just desperately needs a barber."

H: "Maybe he's channeling the winds of change through his hair. 😂 At least he's keeping things interesting. You should try it sometime."

M: "Harriet, tell me you didn't fall for the hype. 🤨 The French might adore their 'heartthrob,' but I know you have better taste."

H: "Of course not, Mencken. I only have eyes for the 'old and grumpy' type. 😉 

To that last text he replied with a hilariously outdated “fuck yea” meme, highlighting how out of touch he could be sometimes.

______________________________________________________________

In one of our romantic getaways,  (if you can call secretly meeting in a pre-swept room with Secret Service agents hanging outside the door romantic) he once again brought up le problème. 

We had dinner from Dorsia’s to-go in my apartment, with General Meow eyeing our food from her own seat at the table. I tried to make conversation but Mencken's answers were clipped, a subtle giveaway that something was amiss. I took it all in stride, already accustomed to his mercurial moods. I knew that he was stressed about something and that once we fucked, he would relax and the tension would dissipate.

Wanting to make up for missing a couple of our dates, he takes me for a drive around the city in a sleek black car with tinted windows, a partition separating us from the chauffeur. The sound of muffled traffic and a bossa nova playlist was our soundtrack, as we furiously make out like teenagers on their way to prom. He’s quiet except for the sighs that escape his lips. I get needy and he likes it, petting me the same way he does my cat. The similarity does not escape me. His hands begin to go lower until they eventually find my hot center and he smiles against my mouth as he realises I’m not wearing panties. Mencken's voice, low and husky, breaks the silence as he whispers, "You always know how to keep things interesting, Harriet."

I respond with a teasing smile, my voice a breathless whisper, "Well, Mr. President, I aim to please."

His fingers continued their exploration, tracing patterns of fire on my clit. “Mr. President? You're playing a dangerous game," he murmured, his lips trailing hot kisses along my neck as he slips two fingers into me.

The combined sensation sends shivers down my spine. I cry out of pleasure and I am thankful for the soundproofed privacy the partition offers us. Eager to reciprocate, my hand instinctively moved toward his belt, but Mencken halted my advance with a gentle yet firm grip.

“Not here, better in the hotel room,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. The promise of what awaited us hung tantalizingly in the air.

Our destination was a high-rise hotel he had booked, soaring 68 floors into the city skyline. It was quintessentially Mencken, reveling in the sensation of being the most powerful man even during sex. The car eased into a lull inside the hotel's basement parking lot, providing a moment for me to compose myself while awaiting the Secret Service's assurance that the coast was clear.

Mencken eyes me mockingly. “You do realise they all know what we’re just doing in here and what we’re about to do in that room”.

I roll my eyes and reply, “A girl has to keep some secrets. Adds to the intrigue, doesn't it?"

He smirks, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Well, let them think what they want. It's not like we've ever been ones to play by the rules."

With a final nod from the Secret Service, Mencken opens the car door, ushering me out. The hotel's opulent lobby awaits us, and I can't help but feel a rush of excitement. The atmosphere is hushed, with the discreet professionalism one would expect in such an establishment.

He is rough, manhandling me immediately after we cross the threshold of the room. 

The door closes behind us, and the plush interior of the room envelops us in a cocoon. The dim lighting casts a sultry ambiance, amplifying the energy that crackles between us.

Mencken turns to face me, his eyes filled with a hunger that matches my own. With a swift move, he captures my lips in a kiss, his hands roaming possessively over my body. In the intimate space, he pins me against the door, a delicious urgency in his touch. His kisses travel from my lips down to the curve of my neck, igniting a cascade of shivers. The feeling lights me whole like a star. He grabs my hand and leads towards the floor to ceiling windows, the quiet city completely unaware of what is about to unfold. Mencken's eyes lock onto mine, a silent communication passing between us. With a heated intensity, he guides me onto my knees, the plush carpet beneath feeling cool against my skin. 

My hands find their way to his belt, fingers working deftly to release him. His cock is already half hard, forming a wet patch on his boxers. I pull them down to spring him free and my tongue reaches out in anticipation. In that moment, the world outside seems to fade away, leaving the two of us suspended in time. His fingers tangle in my hair, a silent encouragement to continue the exploration. As my lips inch closer to their destination, I can feel the heightened tension in the room. His arousal is palpable, the air charged intensity. I wet my mouth, preparing to take him in, and our eyes lock as my lips envelop him. A shiver runs through Mencken's body, and the room echoes with his moans of pleasure.

As the sensations escalate, Mencken's husky voice breaks the silence. "Harriet," he says, a blend of urgency and pleasure in his tone. I smile at him, as much as one can smile with a mouthful of cock. Yet, he knows—I look at him with such adoration as if I were in prayer and him my patron saint. The city outside may slumber in blissful ignorance, but within these four walls, I hold the most powerful man in the world in my grasp. 

I alternate between licking his length and kissing his tip, his skin flushing to a delicious shade of pink. “Adorable” is definitely not the best adjective to describe him, nevertheless it is the word that comes to your mind. Yes, this man who can be quite vicious and spew the most hateful vitriol can also exhibit a human side. In those rare moments when it's just the two of us, away from the public eye, I get a glimpse of a softer side that few get to witness. This only eggs me on, and I fasten my maneuvers until he can barely keep standing still. 

Just when I’m about to finish him off, he jolts me up and pushes me into the bed, covering me with his body, engulfing me. He stays still for a few seconds and places his wedding band covered hand protectively over my neck. He stares at me deeply and suddenly feeling self conscious I look away. 

"Harriet…” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. His hand moves towards my chin and commands me to look straight at him. “Look at me, please”.

And I do.  His thumb brushes gently over my cheek, and he leans down to place a soft kiss on my lips. "You're incredible, you know that?" he whispers, his words a mixture of admiration and desire.

He seems more expressive tonight, a departure from his usual sour demeanor. “Yeah, I am very well aware of it, thank you for the reminder.” I decide to inject a bit of humor into the situation. While I appreciate this more open side of him, it's honestly weirding me out a bit.

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t get cocky.” 

“Shut up. Quick, kiss me again, old man.”

He smirks, leaning in for another kiss. Our lips meet, and the intensity between us reignites. We make quick work of our clothes, and he has me on all fours facing the window. I try to push away the thought of him imagining fucking the city in that egomaniac head of his. As he roams my body, I focus on the sensation, letting the pleasure wash over me. The position lets him get in much deeper, which combined with one hand pulling my hair and the other spanking me on the ass, makes me go crosseyed and incoherent. 

“Oh shit, fuck! Oh my god”, I gasp in between moans. This goads him into increasing his thrusts and to reply with possibly the most cliche response ever.

“Nope, just me”, he snarls.

“Ugh, just shut up and fuck me, you asshole”, I groan out both in pleasure and cringe. 

He pulls me up while still inside me so my back is against his chest. His calloused fingers come to rest on breasts and my clit, both rotating and pinching me in exquisite pleasure. Inside I get hot white and my vision goes out as the tautness that has been growing explodes. Mencken follows closely, my pussy milking him until he comes inside of me.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp bathes the room in a warm aura as Mencken and I fall in tangled limbs. With the air thick with a heady mixture of contentment and the smell of sex, Mencken, typically stoic post coitus, couldn't resist diving headfirst into banter.

His eyes wandered to the ceiling, contemplating the subject that had crept into his thoughts. "You know, I can't help but think about the French election."

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Oh, so now you feel like talking. Do tell. Is there a particular candidate you find captivating? Is this why you were so broody this evening?”

Mencken's lips curved into a smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief.  “Marcel Reynaud, the so-called heartthrob. I fail to see what the fuss is about."

I propped myself up on an elbow, ready for the snarky exchange that was bound to follow.

"Well, Mencken, not everyone can appreciate his charm. Or perhaps, you're just not into the whole 'French boyfriend' craze?"

Mencken scoffed, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand.

“Oh, please! He's just another commie with a mediocre appeal. Looks like he belongs in some sad Eastern European gay porn."

I couldn't help but burst into laughter at his blunt assessment.

"Oh, Mencken, you have such a way with words. I suppose, in your eyes, only right-wing politicians can be easy on the eyes?"

Mencken grinned, his snarkiness unwavering. "Exactly."

Teasing him further, I continued, "Well, you can't deny he's got a certain je ne sais quoi. Maybe you're just jealous that the internet's boyfriend title slipped away from you."

Mencken scoffed again, feigning indifference, “Jealous? Hardly."

Chuckling, I replied, "Of course not, Mencken. Your appeal is far too sophisticated for the masses."

“Wait, you really find him hot? You have the most powerful man in the world in your bed but you still are thinking about some third-rate European lefty? He isn’t even a full president, he has a fucking prime minister!”

“Woah there, I thought you weren’t jealous.”

“I’m just disappointed in you. Really, what happened to your taste?” 

He has a plane to catch the next morning. So when he has enough rest, (“I’m an old man, remember?”) he fucks me once again after eating me out, another habit he has picked up from Rome. During the week I have to wear turtlenecks and scarves to cover up the love bites he left over my chest and neck. Immature asshole.

______________________________________________________________

His administration suddenly became very interested in US-France relations. I could practically see the cogs turning in his mind, the wheels of diplomacy greased with a hint of jealousy. The irony wasn't lost on me—the leader of the free world, concerned about a romantic rival from across the Atlantic.

One evening, as we lounged in my apartment with General Meow resting on his lap, Mencken couldn't resist poking at the issue. “Any thoughts on how we can improve diplomatic ties with France? Perhaps organize a state dinner, or maybe I should visit him on a diplomatic mission?”

I exhale a sigh, knowing exactly where he was going with this. “You're the President of the United States. I'm pretty sure there are more pressing matters than cozying up to Marcel Reynaud just because your lover thinks he’s hot.”

He grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, I just thought it would be a shame if our relations suffered due to my charming French competition." 

And so it was decided, a state dinner was on the horizon, orchestrated not just for diplomatic reasons but also as a subtle way for Mencken to flex his presidential prowess in the face of a perceived rival. It was not lost on me that, deep down, this was more about asserting dominance. Men and their petty egos.

In the weeks leading up to the state dinner, Mencken's text arrived, a blend of formality and subtle suggestion. "Pick something nice, my dear. You'll be seated with me and Marcel. Let's make it a spectacular evening."

#succession #jeryd mencken #jeryd mencken x reader #succession fanficion #succession fanfic #justin kirk #succession hbo

[localowlhousefanatic]

Tag game!

so, i just discovered that the fanfic question id ussualy answer around this time is out of commision, so im making a tag game! for some reason the only thing i can think of is a poem-ish thing (it rhymes, thats the poem part.) for a list, so thats what we're going with! First ill give you an explanation of the question, before providing my own answer! With all of these, feel free to add a link to the story uyou're pulling from

something old

(here, please provide a bit you wrote a bit ago from an older fic taht you like! Is the question referring to an old fic you like, or a bit? you decide!)

my answer:

As she tugged on the cord next to the window, Masha couldn’t help but be reminded of a stage play by the way the warm, orange sunlight hit their mother- like a spotlight turning on at the lifting of the curtain. The angle also didn’t help, Placing Masha in such a position that mom was framed as a silhouette, like they were watching from the wings at the opening moments of a play.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/47992501)

something new

(here, provide your favorite bit from among the three most recent things you've either published or worked on. Why three? Idk, maybe this post works by fairytale logic now)

my answer:

That isn’t to say that there’s no blue around her- there’s plenty, just not the Blue that matters. Theres the Blue streetlights, casting a light that’s almost negligible in the screaming buzz of neon billboards and signs, some of which are blue. The light- so sharp and loud its almost toxic- Cuts through the rain, and bounces off of the layer of water covering the street, and fills the thin mist that’s gathering above the ground, giving the entire street the feeling of being a mix of nightclub and dream. There’s blue everywhere around Red, but it only serves to remind her of the overwhelming need inside her- it’s like handing a cold person a candle, providing just enough warmth to dangle the possibility of comfort in front of them, but not nearly enough to stave off the cold.

Something borrowed,

(sharing time! share a bit from, or a fic, you enjoy from someone else. please credit your sources though)

my answer:

This is just a really good fic. Its also by a really good writer, who deserves all the love

Something Blue

If youve been wondering why ive coloured the headers up until this point, heres your answer: the blue bit.

(please either share a bit/fic you wroite taht made you, teh author , sad. And for those of us who dont do taht often, just provide something you think of with something blue. This might be getting a bit weird now, sorry.)

whoops, ive used my blue bits already at the top. Well, i did just remeber teh one other time i focussed on the colour blue. behold,

 The girl that was looking back at them was dressed impeccably, Masha noted. She was wearing a long royal blue trenchcoat, the type you would expect on a noir detective. Gods, I want that coat. They also noted the fact that it was a crumpled mess. A coat shouldn’t be so messy and yet look so good on someone, they thought with a pang of jealousy. The coat wasn’t the only thing that was a mess though. The girl wearing it looked like she hadn’t slept in a while, indicated by light bags under her eyes that she obviously hadn’t tried to conceal.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/47040430/chapters/118509421)

im sorry for the slight mess that was this post, i hope you people can have fun with it. I think that im supposed to give you numbers here or something, but i dont know that many writers here, so ill just tell you to tag who you want

following my own advice: @topheecoffee @queereldritch @oh-cramity-its-amity @sky-neverending @bonpocalypse @usernamemybeloathed

and for a riskier tag, @captainimprobable

#tag game #fanfiction

[extant-exhaustion]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks...

I love this question! :D I'm going to keep my initial answer to the fandoms I blog about, 'cause if we start going into books and things, I think I'll fry my brain trying to narrow it down. But definitely ask again if you'd like me to try books or other media! (And sorry it’s taken so long for me to answer. Life has been crazy, so it took me literal months to type this out. But I appreciate you asking so much and will answer much faster in the future.)

It was a struggle to keep it to 10, but here we go! (My initial "short list" was 25, so I'm thrilled to have narrowed it down, haha. But I did have to compromise by giving you a Top 10 list that's in no particular order, because ranking them within the ranking would be basically impossible.) See "keep reading" for reasons why I love them!

Edward Elric

Kagami Taiga

Korra

Urameshi Yusuke

Greedling

Kuwabara Kazuma

Amajiki Tamaki

Winry Rockbell

Killua Zoldyck

Kageyama Tobio

Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

Ed is the best written shonen protagonist of all time. His growth is incredible and Arakawa shows it beautifully. He starts the series so young, but he’s not even close to naïve. He’s been through hell already. And he loves his brother, and FMA is powered by that sibling relationship, and I’m a huge sucker for sibling dynamics. (I’m one of four myself.) He’s wicked smart, but it’s shown how hard he works for that. And he’s kind. He truly wants to help people. His emotions are also on full display throughout the series which we don’t always get from shonen protags. He’s a stunningly well-rounded character whose story is full of amazing moments that make me love him even more. “That’s the only thing I’ve ever been—just a simple human.”

Kagami Taiga, Kuroko's Basketball

I love this boy so goddamn much. He’s so good-hearted and soft and perfect. And he’s the type of person I think everyone would want to have in their corner. He’s introduced like he’s going to be this huge jerk, but we quickly learn he’s just a complete doofus who sucks at communicating and expressing himself. He’s loud and brash and cocky, but he just…he loves basketball so much, and he grows so much through playing with Seirin and facing the Generation of Miracles. And specifically, he grows because of his relationship with Kuroko. It’s really the most lovely not-quite-canon sports anime romantic relationship. “Don’t you dare give up, ya hear me? Just sit tight for now. I’ll go out there and show him.”

Korra, The Legend of Korra

Korra truly means everything to me. She was one of the first openly and explicitly bisexual characters I ever saw in media who wasn’t forced to suffer and be miserable because of that. And she’s so strong and so cool. And I love that she’s a flawed character—she feels jealousy and rage and fear and hopelessness. But she keeps fighting. She always comes back and does the right thing. Seasons 3 and 4 are incredible and devastating in equal parts, and I really can’t understand how anyone could not love Korra after seeing her break down and rebuild herself. “Even though we should learn from those who came before us, we must also forge our own path.”

Urameshi Yusuke, Yu Yu Hakusho

The shonen protagonist whose development is the clearest, Yusuke is the most fun punk jackass who grows into a slightly more mature punk jackass (never losing an ounce of his comedic genius along the way). He’s so chaotic and stupid, but his North Star never changes, and that’s his love for his girl, Keiko. I could (and definitely will someday) write a whole post about the genuine love Yusuke and Keiko have for each other, because I really do think it’s some of Togashi’s best writing. But also, Yusuke is just a really fantastic character. He’s strong as hell (of course), but he’s also weak. He faces loss and death and defeat. He watches the people closest to him face their deaths because he isn’t strong enough to protect them; and he breaks my heart because he’s trying so hard, but sometimes it’s not enough. But as he grows and puts his life on the line and protects his friends (and multiple worlds) again and again and again, it becomes obvious just how far he’s come from some punk kid who no one but Keiko believed in. “All right, Yusuke, you’ve tried everything else. Now it’s time to be stupid.”

Greedling, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

So, this is kind of cheating, because Greed and Ling Yao are two different characters, but they share a body for a lot of the show, and they’re so intrinsically linked in my mind that I’m gonna count them as one. I just love these two so much! Their dynamic is so funny to me. They’re both so sassy and clever, and they’re so passionate. I especially love when they finally start working together rather than fighting against each other. They become so bad-ass and their friendship is really obvious. The way they grow to mean so much to each other is everything to me. I guess there really is nothing closer than having somebody who lives in your own head. “Greed may not be good, but it’s not so bad, either. You humans think greed is just for money and power. But everyone wants something they don’t have.”

Kuwabara Kazuma, Yu Yu Hakusho

If you told me I had 10 seconds to choose a character who’s too good for this world, I’d probably settle on Kuwabara. Because this boy is pure, unadulterated good. He truly believes in a code of honor. He does what’s right. He’d rather die than do something underhanded or something that would harm an innocent person. And he’s so loyal and so kind. He loves so much. Be it his friends, his sister, his kitten...he just loves. And he’s willing to fight to protect that. He sticks his neck out time and time again, even when he gets brutally hurt for it. Even when the odds are ridiculously stacked against him, he won’t back down from a fight, because he won’t risk that any perceived cowardice on his part would result in harm coming to his friends or to innocent people. God...he just...he literally fights cataclysmic events and can still smile afterwards. Kuwabara seems like such a dope, but it really is impossible not to love someone who’s just so good. “We all have to die when our time comes, but if we do our duty we don’t got regrets.”

Amajiki Tamaki, My Hero Academia

My anxious, darling boy. He’s got the coolest quirk of anybody (okay, don’t hold me to that; I’d have to think about it harder, but he’s got one of the coolest quirks for sure), but he still struggles with feeling unsure of his power. But he’s got so much control over it anyway! He’s worked so hard and he kicks so much ass! But even being so competent, that imposter syndrome still creeps up, and I can relate to that and to his anxiety a lot. Finally, I think and he and Mirio are truly adorable together in the anime, and Tamaki’s loyalty makes him a character I really like. *Note: I’m not a manga-reader for BNHA, so I only know up to the end of the current anime season, so please no spoilers if anything I say is out of date!* “Even if I try to imagine them as potatoes, I can see their human bodies. I know that they’re still people…I wanna go home.”

Winry Rockbell, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

Winry is a beautiful character. She’s so strong and cool and smart, and she’s unfailingly loyal. Her support of Ed and Al helps them through their whole journey, and she literally gives Ed a leg to stand on and an arm to fight with. She’s a brilliant mechanic and a caring friend, and she’s so empathetic, despite the hurt in her past. She has her own story too, which too many “love interest” girls in shonen anime/manga don’t have. She makes her own choices and grows in her own ways and holds Ed accountable when he’s being an idiot. Winry’s arc is beautiful and shows yet another aspect to the FMA world that Arakawa so brilliantly crafted. I just really adore Winry and think she deserves all the happiness in the world. “You two won’t cry. Someone should do it for you; don’t you think?”

Killua Zoldyck, Hunter x Hunter

This boy is the embodiment of trauma, and he doesn't even realize it. It breaks my heart every time I rewatch HxH, because the juxtaposition between his upbringing and Gon’s is so stark. But Killua is also straight up hilarious and really fun to watch as he learns how to be a kid through his friendship with Gon. And part of that hilarity is when he says the most unsettling shit because he was raised as an assassin and death is just whatever to him. He’s just a really fun character and someone whose earnestness and loyalty is really unmatched. Plus, he’s just undeniably really, really cool. “I want to be friends with Gon!”

Kageyama Tobio, Haikyuu!!

The quintessential prodigy/genius with zero social skills, Kageyama really, really loves volleyball. Can he communicate that without shouting at someone? No, not really. And does he know what it means to be on a team? Also, no. Not until he joins Karasuno and meets Hinata and starts to learn from his upperclassmen. But that’s why I love him. I’m just soft for a boy who finally has good mentors who take him under their wings and show him how to fly and he just...ugh. He soars. He puts so much pressure on himself, but he really does have this beautiful character arc. Plus, he says cheesy shit like this: “With me around, you are the greatest.”

#edward elric #kagami taiga #korra #killua zoldyck #kageyama tobio #yusuke urameshi #kazuma kuwabara #winry rockbell #greedling #amajiki tamaki #ee: personal #ee: mine

[lonelyvomit]

Please if you feel like this is offensive in any way shape or form torwards anyone please don't answer this. But I read this anon question on a few pages about ranking blogs (or telling your favorite ones). Again it has nothing to do with the literal question or the answers, it is just my sensitive mind reacting. But it had me thinking and once again realizing that no matter who I asked this question to I wouldn't be mentioned at all or never in the top 10 at least. A long time ago I actually startet tinking about this as some type of curse, or maybe I was just a really bad person in another life (if something like that exists) and this is my punishment for it. Or maybe I am really just unlovable. I don't really know. And now I am basically questioning my whole existence over something that shouldn’t have effected me at all.

I don't think it's offensive to feel unnoticed or unloved, like you said it's not really about the question nor the answers - people listing few of their fave blogs doesn't mean they don't care about anyone they don't list. I think 2000s/early 2010s internet had a lot more of this where people would regularly list their few closest friends/fave blogs/follow forevers, and while I'm sure that trend dying saves a lot of people from jealousy and hurt feelings, it feels like when it does happen more irregularly now, it's suddenly seen as a bigger deal than it was back then. I actually got the question too and tried to answer it, but after making 4 separate lists with different requirements/reasons to list people by, I realized there's no way I can shout out everyone I'd want to, or the list is just gonna be 50+ names long (and I'd still forget someone cus the second I get asked something like that my brain goes immediately blank and suddenly I cant remember if I've ever talked to a single person on this site and I open my instant messages and my notes tab like "do I even know anyone here?!").

but I suppose that's exactly what you need to keep in mind - people are only listing a handful of blogs, everyone with their personal criteria (does "fave blogs" mean actually favorite blogs, or favorite bloggers/people? should I highlight the content creators? should I include my friends or should I very specifically not do that since everyone who's been here more than 3 days already knows I love them and I could use that ask to shout out some of the people I talk less with? etc etc). not being listed on those asks doesn't actually mean anything at all, because you don't even know the reasoning people used to make their list. also, most of us follow dozens of blogs and only reply with a handful, meaning a huge majority of the people we follow and actively enjoy seeing around don't get mentioned. it's more likely that people like you and you still don't end up mentioned than it is to be on those lists.

you're not unlovable, unloved, or cursed. you're okay, and those asks and answers are more like people going "I see this one around a lot, I recognize them", and putting a tiny star sticker on it. that's it. don't let your self worth be swayed by whether or not you get a star sticker, ok? I promise you matter a lot more than that.

#asks

[elmaxlys]

1, 2, 4, and 37 for whichever ship you want!

1- List 3 shipping tropes you love

obsession. good lord, that shit gets me almost every time. Like, they have history and idk maybe they're rivals, maybe they’re nemeses, maybe they're exes, and one of them is just. obsessed with the other and the other either doesn't care or straight up like 'yikes' or when it’s fucking mutual goodness, this shit is so good?? Some examples in my ships: Juoka (Juo obsessed with Rika), EDEN (ADAM obsessed with Langa), Utaren (everything Uta has going on), Ushioi (kinda mutual tbh), Adakiri (Kiriko obsessed with Ainosuke), Hannigram (❤), Rinharu (esp in s1), Double Shinya (❤), Dai/Jaehee (❤)

“I’m the only one who can kill/harm you” like the possessiveness over an adversary or rival etc?? being all defensive over someone they regularly and actively try to harm *chef kiss* I don’t have a specific example here but this makes me vibrate with excitement and shipper feeling every time.

devoted person in a one-sided love :3 i like pain. Maybe a subgenre of the obsession one but the devotion is gentle i guess, unlike the obsession that is really fucking toxic xD absolutely delicious, give me the all the pining. no “and they actually end up together at the end”, just “content to remain by their beloved’s side” and “happy their beloved is happy, even without them” smooch smooch

2- List 3 shipping tropes you don't love

jealousy jfc this is the biggest turn off for me “why were you with-” SHUT UP THEY HAVE A LIFE “i don’t like that you’re friends with [person of the gender you’re attracted to]” OH WE’RE DOING THIS?? DO YOU CHEAT WITH EVERYONE YOU ARE POTENTIALLY ATTRACTED TO? GET OUT “do you like me or them better” THEM. JUST BECAUSE YOU ASKED, FUCKFACE. Flips the anger switch in me like nothing else. congrats for that. Not even my beloved Yunise get a pass for that lmao I fucking hate that aspect of the ship. No, it’s not the same as the obsession one I said earlier as my favorite.

soulmates omg on top of being highly arophobic, it annoys me to no end, i see it a lot in omegaverse with “destined/fated mates” and whatnot. i see that word (or the in-universe word for that), i close the tab. this is a shortcut to avoid actually developing the growth of a relationship and i hate it. the appeal of reading/watching romance to me is mostly the before relationship so yeah that sure doesn’t help lol.  When does it get a pass: when the character believe they’re “meant to be” bc of above obsession but in universe they’re really not meant to be (like. juoka. juo always pushing the “fate” talk when really it’s all his doing, stalking rika and whatnot lmao)

“labrador” types, especially when there’s a love triangle with a “cat type” person and also especially when the “labrador” has a ~dark~ side/actual shit personality that they hide from their Love Interest. I hate hypocrites lol  (this is actually a subgenre of the introvert x extrovert trope that i also highly dislike when it’s the only bit of their personality traits that is pushed forward when ‘advertising’ the ship lol no one can write introverts correctly anyway.)

4- One physical aspect of a ship that always get you

Fights, Jesus Christ, fights. If they haven't tried to tear the other apart or severely injured each other on purpose, then what's the point 😌 (depending on the tone of canon, the intensity of the fight can go from the Rinharu s1ep12 fight to, like, whatever Utaren has going on)

37- Describe one reunion after time apart

Wordless. They look at each other. They’ve missed each other for so long that the feeling is almost a part of them now. One of them slowly starts smirking. And at that sight everything goes aflame, everything bursts. They find themselves in each other’s arms. They cling to each other, they breathe each other, they can’t let go. There’s no need for word, they know. Their old scars wake up. It feels right. Finally. Finally.

---

the ask game if anyone else wanna send me something :D

#they deserve a soft epilogue my love they might not be good people but they've suffered enough oh god they have #tmtc #thank you <3 #aaah it took a while to write but i loved it hehe thank you so much for asking!!

[hells-greatestdad]

😊 = What makes the mun and muse happiest? 😭 = What makes the mun and muse the saddest? 😡 = What makes the mun and muse the angriest? 👻 = What is the scariest thing to ever happen to the mun and muse? 💙 = What is one thing that can calm down the mun and muse? Is it a person, thing, or place? 💚 = What is one thing that makes the mun and muse jealous?

//

Ooh, time to put my thinking cap on I see!

I feel like I tend to be something of what my novelist friends call a "discovery writer", meaning that there are things I don't know about my muse until I actually write him in that scenario. I do put a lot of thought into my portrayal, but it comes to me as I'm writing, much of the time. This is actually what I mean when I say that "Lucifer has a mind of his own"! He doesn't always pull me in the direction I might expect.

😊 = What makes the mun and muse happiest?

Mun:

Days all to self, hyperfixation highs, spending time with little sister

Muse:

Ducks. Haha. Also, I could see him having a similar list to mine tbh.... I see him as definitely introverted, though the degree of self isolation we see in-series is definitely a result of his depression. Spending time with his wife and with Charlie.

😭 = What makes the mun and muse the saddest?

Mun:

Without delving into real serious stuff, getting attached to fictional characters with heavy trauma and/or they die or really sad things happen, haha! My favorite character in the Soul Eater manga had the worst ending possible, and I was a depressed mess for weeks afterwards.

This is why I need fluffy things to balance out the sad things or Imma die. Including in RP.

Muse:

I dunno if I yet have a similar list of more superficial reasons Lucifer might be sad, haha. All the things I can think of are connected to very serious topics, and they're pretty obvious at this point.

😡 = What makes the mun and muse the angriest?

Mun:

People being mistreated, especially people I care about.

Muse:

People messing with his family is definitely at the top there, but that's obvious.

👻 = What is the scariest thing to ever happen to the mun and muse?

Mun:

Scariest? Ah.... I got swept away in a river when I was like 2? 3? But I thought it was fun at the time, like a ride or something. Had no idea I was being pulled towards a waterfall - nope! My bio dad rescued me.

Muse:

Definitely the fall from Heaven, like..... I've read fics that described it, they really set the, ah.... setting. I can't brain right now, but yeah. (Shoutout to A King and His Queen by Dxrk_Incxrnxte, chapter 5 covers this well I think)

💙 = What is one thing that can calm down the mun and muse? Is it a person, thing, or place?

Mun:

Music. Mostly listening to it, but as a former piano player, even playing music is an outlet.

Muse:

Definitely think he finds music calming. Considering he can play all the instruments too, apparently, so I think he definitely uses music as an outlet.

💚 = What is one thing that makes the mun and muse jealous?

Mun:

I'm not super jealous? But there is one person I've gotten jealous over their attention. Said person is like the only person I've ever had romantic feelings for, too, soooo

Muse:

I don't think he's the type to get super jealous either, but he definitely has a possessive streak I think which is a type of jealousy?

#ooc #munday

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

142 of 2023

Random about you survey

Created by joybucket

If you could go on a free vacation right now to anywhere you want, where would you go?

Finland. I’ve always wanted to visit.

Name two emotions that you feel frequently.

Joy and anger.

Name one medical condition that you currently have.

Epilepsy, but that’s lifelong.

What is one medication that you currently take?

Lamictal. But it’s not the only one I have to take daily.

Do you believe in the supernatural?

No, not really. I’m always skeptical about everything.

Have you ever experienced anything supernatural?

I don’t think so.

What are your top choices for baby girl names?

Laura, Sylvia, Monique, Brigitte.

How about baby boy names?

Joris :D maybe Damiaan or Adriaan, they’re all in Dutch-spelling versions.

What is one thing that you hate?

Injustice.

What is one dream of yours?

To be healthy.

What is your passion?

Can’t choose between photography, travrelling and looking for weird radio signals.

Name one female celebrity you think is attractive.

Amy Lee of Evanescence.

What is one food you will NEVER eat?

Blood sausages.

Name one thing you are allergic to.

Nuts.

Have you ever been through something traumatic?

Yeah. Inequal treating by our parents, sexual abuse, major health problems, brain haemorrhage. I think it’s enough.

Have you ever been in a car accident, whether it was major or minor?

Yes, once our tire burst while on the way. Thankfully nobody was hurt.

Name one color that looks good on you.

I don’t really care about such things. I wear whatever I want, regardless of colour.

Name one color that doesn't look good on you.

Look above.

How attractive do you think you are on a scale of 1-10?

Solid 3, no kidding.

List one word that rhymes with your middle name.

Klein. Yeah my middle name is Dutch, too.

Type a random sentence from the book you are currently reading.

Nah.

What is your favorite book and why?

I don’t have favourites. There are just too many good books.

What is your favorite color?

Black and green.

List five words that describe you.

Caring, fair, non-judgemental, friendly, funny. That’s what others say.

What is your best feature?

I’m hard-working. For physical, probably eyes.

Name one hidden talent that you have.

I can bend my fingers in multiple unnatural ways.

How old are you?

Almost 33.

What month is your birthday in?

April.

List five things that you can't live without.

Train travels, my phone, my tablet, my laptop, freshly cooked soups.

List five adjectives that describe how you often feel.

Anxious, proud, happy, angry, tired.

Type a random word that starts with the first letter of your name.

Jealousy.

How old were you when you had your first crush?

22.

Do you believe in magic?

Not really in that meaning.

Do you believe in miracles?

Yes, my medical case is classified as one.

Would you call yourself a free spirit?

I don’t like that term.

Do you love life?

I do, and I’m very grateful for having it saved.

Name five flavors you love.

Vanilla, caramel, strawberry, cherry, lemon.

Name one fruit you love.

Strawberry.

Name one vegetable you like.

Cauliflower.

#survey #q&a survey #random survey

[gotnofucks]

Will you make me a drabble where I ask Steve to be my daddy or just make him my daddy🥺🥺👉👈 love you bestie!!

Title: The Journey to Daddy

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: Five times you call Steve ‘daddy’, and the one times he asks you to.

Words: 1.6k

Warning: slight smut, daddy kink, some jealousy and possessiveness, 18+ Only

A/N: There is only one person who can ever make me go soft. Berry, this is for you. Love you more my queen @donutloverxo

+++++

1.

Sometimes, you felt like an onion. You had a lot of layers around you: secrets, insecurities, dreams you were scared of living, things that were never said. And every time, it felt like Steve would peel a layer to expose the truest form of you. You'd never felt as naked as you did when his eyes were fixed on you, with no judgement or question, only love.

You'd been going out for months now, learning about each other, exploring your boundaries. Steve was the most attentive boyfriend. He was caring and respectful, always there for you before you even asked for him. He'd lift you up when you needed something from the top shelf. He'd cook for you because he knew you liked the domestic look on him. He'd tickle you to tears when you were down, trailing kisses down your forehead to your nose to your chin before blowing a raspberry on the hollow of your neck that would have you giggling.

Steve was so perfect, and it was very unconscious the first time you called him Daddy. You were in the kitchen and had broken a plate when Steve came rushing out, carrying you away from the wreckage to make sure you were okay. he wouldn't let you clean it, afraid you'd hurt yourself.

"You're okay baby?" He had asked.

"Yes daddy" you had softly replied into his neck, soothed by his smell. And though he didn't say anything, the thought kept running in his head. Daddy?

2.

Your cries got higher with each thrust, nails digging into Steve’s shoulder as he pumped into you. He loved it when you got like this, all dumbed down and messy, garbling words that felt like poetry to him. You came around him again, squeezing his length between the velvety walls of your sex and he released into you with a growl.

Sweaty and spent, you looked a beauty to him as you laid under his naked body covered in his essence. His large body framed yours and as he leaned in to kiss your glistening and bruised lips, you tiredly said, "I love you, daddy".

He stilled, whispering a love you back before collapsing next to you. Looking at you drifting away, he got up to clean you and cover you up, holding you close as his thoughts ran wild. There it was again. Daddy. Why did you call him that?

3.

Your birthdays were more important to Steve than they were to you. Every time, even when you’d not been dating, Steve would pull all stops for your birthday. He’d arrange a party that would consist only of your closest friends and family, cook all your favorite food, and would make sure everyone got you a present you liked.

There was that time Steve had made a list and gave it out. “Just get her something from this. I know what she likes.” Idiot. He should have put only his name on the list, since there was nothing you wanted more than him. Today, as you celebrated this day as a couple, he decided to make it intimate and private.

He decorated the balcony in your favorite fairy lights, lightening soft candles and putting your favorite flowers everywhere so that it smelled divine. You both sat under the stars, holding each other as you snuggled in the blanket, talking in hushed tone.

“What did you wish for when you blew the candles?” He asked, pressing his lips on the crown of your head. You looked at him, eyes reflecting the candles that danced in the wind.

“I have everything I want. Here.” You said, touching his chest. “You’re all I want. Thank you for today, daddy.”

You kissed him, not noticing the slight hitch in his breath as you said that. Daddy, he liked how that sounded.

4.

The sounds of typing were a normal in your house, but it bothered Steve when it went past midnight for the third night in a row. He saw you stifle another yawn, rubbing at your eyes as you tried to finish this project on time. You worked way too hard if you asked him.

“Baby, come to bed. It’s late.”

“I can’t, really need to get this done.”

Steve sighed, washing your now empty coffee mug before sitting beside you. He counted three more yawns along with four curses whispered under your breath and he knew he needed to step in. Gently stopping your hand, he turned you to face him and cupped your face.

“You still have four days before you need to turn this in. Come to bed honey, you’re tired and I don’t wanna sleep without you.”

You pouted, tired and internally glad that he finally stopped you. Nodding, you allowed him to more or less carry you into the bedroom and put you into pajamas, tucking you into the warmth of his body as he turned out the lights.

“Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll make you your favorite breakfast tomorrow so you’re all charged up for another day of working. I love you.”

His arms came around you, your back to his chest. Tangling your fingers with his, you pressed a sleepy kiss on his knuckles before whispering into the dark, “good night daddy. Love you too.”

5.

The fifth time you did it, you scared him.

The Avengers Gala was something Steve hated and loved. He loved he could have you on his arm, his girl to proclaim before the world. His friends got together and had a nice time, and people he hadn’t seen for a while surfaced too.

What Steve couldn’t handle was the audacity of men to ogle you. Despite you being on his arm, they would follow you with their creepy eyes, trying to sneak in a word whenever someone pulled him away from you. He knew he mustn’t be jealous; if there was anything Steve was ever secure about, it was your love for him. But he couldn’t stand still watching some good for nothing bastard try to win you over with a pick up line that was older than he was.

“Excuse me gentlemen” He almost growled, taking your arm possessively before whisking you away into a dark corner, intent on having you all to himself. You rolled your eyes, used to this act by now. You’d never told him, but it was almost endearing watching a man like him get so antsy over you.

“You can’t always hide me away!” You chided him but didn’t push him away. You preferred his company over any other, and if were to take you home right now, you wouldn’t mind. Steve bit his lips before cutting a glance to the men who were flirting with you earlier, a snarl lodged in his chest.

“No, but I can do this!” His lips crashed on yours, pulling you into a deep kiss that tasted of his power and love. You melted into his touch, arms hooking around his neck to bring him down to your height, tongues tangling together in a sloppy kiss. Steve didn’t let up until you had to finally break to breath, both panting hard.

“What was that for?” You asked, softly touching your lips that tingled.

“To remind everyone that you belong to me!” He said, pulling you closer. You smiled, pressing another kiss on his lips before tucking your head under his neck.

“Of course I belong to you daddy.”

He spent the rest of the party distracted. You’d called him that a lot recently. But why? Did you want him to be a daddy? You'd both decided to never to have children in the early days of getting together. Why then did you call him daddy? And why did it send a thrill down his back? God, he hoped you weren't pregnant.

+ 1

The morning after the party, he woke you up with kisses trailing down your neck, soothing the sting of the bites he had placed there last night. As you whimpered, wanting to sleep some more, he pushed a hand under your top to tickle your ribs, smiling as you giggled and squirmed.

“Steve!” You squealed as he reached under your breast. He chuckled before kissing up your exposed tummy, loving the sounds of your laughter as he reached your mouth and pressed deep and slow kisses there.

“Good morning.” He said, nuzzling his nose into you. You sighed in happiness, snuggling into him and breathing in his scent.

“Good morning.”

You stayed that way for a while, him gently rocking you back and forth as you hummed, enjoying the quiet morning together. It was after a few minutes that Steve spoke.

“Why do you call me daddy?”

A sudden shyness came over you and you buried your face deeper into his chest, not speaking. Steve tutted, gently pulling you back and titling your face up to meet his eyes.

"Do you want us to have a kid?" Steve asked and you shook your head.

"No." You said, embarrassed.

"Then why do you call me daddy?"

You looked at him with glittering eyes, cupping his cheek softly that was threatening to develop a scruff if not shaved.

"Because I trust you." You said. "I never have to hide from you, never have to worry. You look after me, you love me unconditionally. You care about me in a way no one has ever before. When you take charge, it makes me feel good. I love it when you guide me in bed. I love it when you step up and look after me. Calling you daddy puts those feelings into words."

Steve couldn't look away from you and your eyes. The love and trust you put in him made him a better person, it made him feel worthy. All he ever wanted in life was to have someone to call his own, to hold them and love them and never let any harm come to them. Looking into your eyes, he knew he had all he wanted. He held you closer and tighter, brushing your lips with his.

"Say it again then, baby."

"Daddy"

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #daddy!steve rogers #steve rogers

[suchalonelysunflower]

Over And Out (l.h)

End Up Here - Part 4

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x 5sos! Fem! Reader

Summary: A tour. A secret relationship. And rumors only grow...

Warnings: Angst, mild smut. Mentions of harassment, sexual harassment, sexual abuse, physical abuse, verbal abuse, creepy men, jealousy, alcohol, cheating, fighting, sexism, and many frustrations. Language and some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word Count: 10k

Author’s Note: this is the most frustrating thing I’ve ever written, I believe. Next part will be up on March 14th. Remember that Reblogs, Fedback, Comments and Likes are very important! You have no idea how much they help me ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋🌻✨

My Materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

Series Materialist || part 1 || part 2 || part 3

Liked by michaelclifford, 5sosfan4eva and 1,573 others

lukehemmings and away and away we go ✈️

View all 347 comments

5sosfan4eva THEY ARE TOTALLY DATING

↪️ calumlovesash I hope they’re not 🤢 she was much better with Madden or Josh. At least they’re famous

yn5sos I’m changing seats with Michael

↪️ lukehemmings @yn5sos 🥺

*

@5sos EUROPE ARE YOU READY?!

“I can’t believe we’re already here!” Y/N cheered as they got to the hotel.

It’s been a month on the road already and they finally had a few days to rest before traveling to yet another destination. They had the idea of doing a tour to promote not only their new singles and tease the album release that’s bound to happen next year, and it ended up being one of the most incredible ideas they had after spending almost a year without doing shows.

They started with a small tour in Europe, then they will move on back home in Australia for a couple of shows, and then the big finale in the United States where most of their shows were already sold out. By that time, the fans would’ve already listened to the new songs and be even more hyped for the new album.

Luke was the newbie on tour, this not being the first time he traveled away from home, but the first time he did it with people he cared about. He was having the time of his life with Y/N, the boys, and their s.o. It all felt like a dream. He was actually living the life of a rockstar on his summer break, even if most of the things they did they had to keep it a secret.

When Y/N invited Luke on tour there was no way he would’ve said no to her - not just because he pretty much can’t say no to her, but that’s another story.

She said she wanted to take it slow and that was exactly what they were doing. They didn’t put a label on whatever they had going on, but rather they enjoyed the moment stealing kisses and nights whenever they could.

They would sneak out into each other's rooms late at night, longing to be closer. They would spend hours upon hours tangled in the sheets, loving each other and sharing whatever was on their minds at the time. Making those moments their own amid their borrowed time between destinations. A moment for the two of them.

Luke found it weird at the beginning; hiding their relationship from the world until it became official. But these last few months he could see a change in Y/N, she seemed happier, more open to talking about her feelings and her past. He understood that this was important to her, to live a normal life until she feels ready to share it.

If time is what she needed, time is what she’ll get.

The boys and their girlfriends were all supportive. They too understood the importance of keeping some things private as well as the changes in Y/N’s behavior. They were all happy to see their friend back, just in time for tour.

But it was almost impossible to control what was put in the media. The fans already know who Luke is and that he spends a lot of time with the members of their favorite band. They speculate about his relationship with Y/N, creating rumors that even though he wants to, he can’t confirm nor deny. And when it came to the media outlets, those were much, much worse.

They didn’t say much about him “The privilege of being normal” Said Calum once. But they did have a lot to say about Y/N…

“Y/N L/N is back at it again with a new man?!”

“No tears this time? Y/N L/N Caught smiling and getting cuddly with a member of her team! Can she mix work and pleasure?”

“Serial heartthrob Y/N L/N seen with other men while still refusing to talk about her most recent break-up? Sounds fishy to me!”

“What was she thinking?! Y/N L/N was spotted in an outing with his “new friend” wearing very thin shorts and a crop top. Not so family-friendly apparently”

Horrible things were written about her every day but she ignored them as if they didn’t exist. Luke wished he could do the same.

Every little article, tweet, or comment about Y/N made his blood boil. It was clear that they were completely made up to be some “big news” when the reality was far from that and they kept disrespecting them and their relationship even if it was still on the down-low.

But Luke could not stop reading them. It was addictive how he couldn’t resist clicking on her name every time it popped out, not because of some morbid reasoning behind it, but because those articles seemed to know more about Y/N than Luke himself. People kept talking about a past he didn’t know she had. Were those made up as well? Or are they based on reality? Would he be able to know the difference?

Truth was, he couldn’t. He loves Y/N blindly, he got to know her in one of the most genuine ways but it feels like that is not enough. It’s almost like she is living a secret life he doesn’t get to know.

He wonders when it will end. This seemingly permanent stage of seating on the sidewalk, waiting for the light to turn green so they could walk freely into their relationship. Where people will support them, respect her and let them be happy. But that could never happen when she’s the one who doesn’t want to move.

Luke respects that she is not ready to talk, as she said time and time again. But he just couldn’t comprehend how she, right now, could be so at peace while her name is thrown through the mud and back. Smiling with the boys as they take pictures for promo while management arranges the check-in. Does she not know what they are saying about her or she just accepts it without any retribution?

He was asking himself all these questions as he watched her so happy, his mind tormenting him with a dark cloud over their sunny day. He wants to protect her, but he doesn’t know how or if she would even let him.

And yes, maybe that was selfish of him. Banging on a closed-door with his heart in his hands. But what about the person with the key and the lock? Aren't they a little bit selfish too?

“Hey!” He heard Kat said as she sat beside him, nudging her shoulder against his.

Luke turned to her, his eyebrow still locked in a frown as he muttered a little “hey”

The blonde girl scrunched her nose at him “Yikes, what's happening that it has you all worked up, buddy?”

Luke pressed his lips on a thin line as his eyes traveled back at Y/N. She was laughing at something Ashton had said when she turned to look at him.

Y/N smiled, winking at him as she waved. Luke stared at her for a while, a small smile playing on his lips as he raised his hand in acknowledgment. He could feel his heart skipping a beat every time their eyes met, but the dark feelings in his mind made his expression turn sour the moment Y/N turned around again, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the girl sitting next to him.

“You read them again, didn’t you?” Kat asked, already knowing the answer just by looking at how his shoulders tensed the moment she asked it.

They were all aware of the tabloids and the stories, being a regular occurrence to them, but not for Luke. They all knew this was new to him as well and how overwhelming it might be. So they all tried to ground him as much as possible, not letting him get affected by it as he had before.

“Now why are they saying that?!” He spat as he threw his cellphone on the leather couch, calling the boy's attention.

It was a normal day at the studio. They were all getting lunch as they laid back in the break room while Y/N and their girls went out to get them coffee.

Calum was the first one to speak, confused by his friend's sudden outburst “Uh, what exactly? And who?”

“This!” He said, grabbing his phone and tossing it at Calum. The rest of the boys gathered around as Luke plopped himself down on the couch.

Ashton began to read out loud “Seeing the growing rumors of Y/N’s mystery man, here’s a list of every guy we wished would date her”

“Okay that’s fucked up,” Michael said, swallowing his food.

“It’s better than the last one…”

“What?!” Luke asked, outraged that there are worse things out there.

“Dude, chill,” Calum said, “We understand this is beyond fucked, especially now that you’re dating or whatever. But you getting this angry at it won’t solve anything”

“Won’t solve anything?!” He said in a loud tone “That’s my girl they’re talking about. My girl dating other guys while she’s with me!”

“But they don’t know that,” Michael argued.

Luke shook his head, taking his phone back from Calum’s hands as he started typing furiously.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?! Letting them know that they can go fuck themselves” Luke answered, eyes still on the phone, a second away from pressing send before Calum snatched his phone.

“No!” He said “You are not going to out your relationship without her consent!”

“But-“

“Plus, I already took care of it,” Ashton said, holding his phone up “I tweeted at them telling them how incredibly disrespectful they’re being, now the fans are onto them and I already messaged management to deal with it”

“And that’s it?” Luke’s eyes winded “That’s all you’re gonna do?”

“That’s all we can do right now,” Ashton said with a sigh, sitting next to it “We know these situations suck, they’re horrible and dehumanizing and we are glad more people are realizing just how shitty the media is. But if we respond to every rumor there is it’s going to be a never endless battle, it’s going to backfire. We know, we tried”

“But all the stories are aimed against her” Luke said, running a hand through his face with frustration clear in his eyes “She didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Why do you think that is?” Michael chimed in “Think about Taylor Swift, Katy Perry, Miley Cyrus, Britney Spears… They aim for women because they think are easy to kill”

“Which they’re not. It makes them stronger somehow. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it if I was them” Calum said “Women are stronger than you think when it comes to this, Y/N included”

“We’ve been living with this kind of shit show for years. We defended her with knives and teeth, dragging every single outlet that posted something against her. But that shit only made it worse for her”

“They loved the attention they were receiving” Ashton’s voices laid with sarcasm “Every interaction we had they profited from it, creating even more rumors, one worse than the other, just so they could have the clicks. Eventually, Y/N asked us to stop defending her publicly and she decided to ignore it altogether”

“But we still fight for her, though. We flag the post, demand they take it down, talk to PR and management for damage control, and even sue for defamation a couple of times. She’s never got to go through any of that on her own, we wouldn’t have allowed it”

“And what am I supposed to do, then?” Luke asked, a mix of frustration and desperation filled his voice “Just do nothing?”

“Be there for her” Calum answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world “Support her. Love her. Comfort her. Whatever she needs. She’s a strong woman, one of the strongest we know. But there will come a time when she will have to lean on someone, and you have to be there and ready for her. She trusts you. Don’t let her down”

Kath placed a hand on Luke’s shoulder, understanding the man’s pain.

“I just-“ He said with a sigh “She never reads them, you know? The articles. But I do, I can’t help it. They seem to know more about her than me and that’s just-“

“Fucked?”

“Yeah,” He said as he took a long breath “I don’t know… I’m trying. This is all very new to me and she’s a professional at dealing with this kind of shit. But at the same time, she never tells me anything, how she feels about them or if they’re real or not. It’s fucking me up”

Kat hummed “And I assume you don’t ask her about it either”

The girl crooked an eyebrow at Luke, seemingly seeing through him “I- I don’t want to push”

She sighed and patted his shoulder “Let me tell you something, Luke. From girlfriend of a celebrity to the boyfriend of a celebrity” She started, earning Luke’s complete attention “When I started dating Calum we decided to keep it private, out of the eyes of the media and even from some of his friends. It was good at the beginning, great even! But the heart is ambitious and it always ends up wanting more. We fought a lot during those times, part of us wanting to hold on to what we had but at the same time longing for some kind of freedom. In the end, we did end up going public, as you know. We endure a lot of hate, we still do. But we knew what we were up against, you’re still trying to figure that out. But I’m telling you to know there is something you’re lacking”

“And what is that?” Luke asked with curiosity.

“Communication” Kat smiled sweetly at him “How do you expect to reach a meeting point while you’re sitting here in your own dark cloud and she’s over there with no clue of what’s happening with you and vice versa?”

The blonde girl got up from her seat next to him, giving him one last piece of advice before walking towards Calum “Don’t give up before you try. No one said it was going to be easy but, it’s your choice to see if it’s worth it”

Luke watched her walk away, rousing her arms around Calum’s waist as she smiled sweetly at him, giving him a small peck. Luke smiled at their love.

He thought about their friends, how in love they are with their partners and how free they are to love publicly, facing the retaliations of being in the public eye. But they seemed happy, they were happy. And he realized he wanted that for him and Y/N.

His mind drifted off to the possibility of going public, cleaning the air once and for all. No more “mysterious guy” or “Y/N’s possible secret lover” he’d be Luke Hemmings, the proud boyfriend of singer Y/N L/N. They could be happier, free. They could fight those rumors together and face the stormy weather that would come. He’d defend her until the end of times, protecting her with his life and supporting her in everything she does. He wanted that for them. But it wasn’t his sole choice to make.

“Babe!” He heard Y/N call.

She was walking up to him, a playful smile on her face as the nickname rolled off her tongue. She was wearing one of his hoodies, making her look small as she approached him.

He noticed that her eyes were shining, lately, they always did and he couldn’t get enough of them. He could get lost in her eyes willingly, throwing away the map and making himself home.

He loved her. Oh, he was so in love with her he didn’t even know what to do. The more he thought about it, the more sure he was about wanting to love her freely. He just wished she thought about it too.

“I got our keys” She smiled, pulling two cards out of her back pocket.

“Oh?” Luke asked playfully with a grin drawn into his face “And where am I supposed to sleep this week?”

In order not to create any suspicion about their relationship, they decided that Luke will have his own hotel room on tour - even though everyone knows that’s not where he sleeps or where he wakes up in the mornings. Usually “Luke’s room” is used to store the extra luggage they carry.

Y/N fake pouted “Sadly, Mr. Hemmings. Your room is at the other end of the hall”

Luke gasped “That far away?! Is there any way I can be… closer?”

The girl bit her lip as she rounded her arm around his waist, standing on her tippy toes as she softly whispered in his ear “Let’s see what I can do about that, Sir”

Y/N giggled as she heard Luke let out a soft groan, pecking his cheek with a small kiss as she stood in front of him again “Baby, you’re going to be the death of me” He said, trying to get a hold of her by her waist. But she was quicker, swiftly moving a step back as she started walking towards the elevators. One last look over her shoulder got him grabbing their things as he followed her without any questions.

The elevator ride is quiet, the beating of their hearts being the soundtrack to their wait as they reached their floor. Y/N didn't look at him as she walked towards the door, unlocking it with one swift movement of the wrist and leaving it open for Luke to come in after her.

When he opened the door, she was nowhere in sight. He wondered if she hid somewhere, this not being the first time she would jump and scare the shit out of him. But then, his ears picked up a soft humming coming through the bathroom door, and with a devilish smile he let their luggage at the side of the closet, he locked the door and made his way to her.

Y/N was humming one of her favorite songs when Luke caught her reflection in the mirror but she was not looking at him. She was putting some lotion in her hands, fingers tracing up until her upper arm with barely-there touches.

“Remember we have a party in a couple of hours, Hemmings,” She said when she felt him getting closer “We should get ready soon” He just hummed in agreement, not really paying attention to her words.

Softly, he placed his hands on either side of her hips, pulling her closer to him. Y/N kept ignoring him as she dried the excess of product out of her hands and it wasn’t until Luke pushed away some of her hair and started kissing along her neck that she finally gave him a proper response to his action.

Luke smirked as he felt her let out a shaky breath as his lips traced the shell of her ear, kissing it softly before moving lower and lower, kissing and sucking on her skin as slow as he could, making her tremble under his touch.

“Luke,” She said, holding her breath as she felt his calloused hands travel under the hoodie she was wearing. His hoodie. The one that always smelt like him.

“Hmm?” He asked, not stopping his movements for a second.

“We- uhm” The girl stuttered in a whisper when his hands started touching her over her bra, softly rolling over the nipples and making them hard “We should - oh - we should start getting ready soon”

“We should, huh?” He asked, voice raspy and low “It will be rude to go a little bit late. Wouldn’t it?”

Y/N let out a sigh when his hands left her breasts, trying to regain her breath before she lost it all over again when his fingers started playing with the hem of her jeans.

His fingers wandered carefully, fiddling with the button and zipper until they weren’t an issue. His lips grazed her neck up and down, kissing it softly as his fingertips finally reached her center.

She let out a soft moan when she felt him over her panties, tracing her lips over them and feeling her arousal “I’m sure they could wait a little bit longer” He said as he pressed a finger to her clit over the fabric “We need to take care of a few problems before that, don’t you think?”

He pressed his hips onto her, a soft whimper escaping her mouth when she felt his growing erection against her.

“So wet for me, my love” He groaned as her hand flew to the top of his hair, trying to find balance as she tugged on his curls “Always so beautiful for me”

“Luke-“

He opened his eyes just in time to catch her staring at him through the mirror with a desperate look in her eyes. It took him less than a second to spin her around and press her against the countertop, ceasing his lips into her like she was his last meal on earth.

She tangled her hands behind his head, fingers deep into his hair as he grabbed her by the back of her thighs, easily lifting her off and taking her to the king-size bed where they made sure to lose track of time between kisses and moans as they satisfied their needs with each other, over and over again until they fell through the abyss of pleasure together, whispering sweet confessions as their breath went back to normal.

It was easy to say that they were the last ones to reach the lobby. What was hard for them to ignore was the knowing looks and teasing smiles from their friends that were waiting for them for a good amount of time.

“Don’t say anything” Y/N threatened Ashton as he opened his mouth. But he just laughed

“If you want Luke to walk around with his fly open then sure, I’ll keep my mouth shut”

*

The ride to the party was filled with laughter and chit-chats. They were all in a great mood to finally have a mini-break in between shows and what better way to celebrate it than at a big party?

Luke stole glances from Y/N as she talked to Bethany. She looked beautiful with her black dress, making Luke proud and a little bit snug about him being the one who would take her home afterward.

But he knew that after tonight they needed to talk. And not “talk” like they usually do. No, this time he was going to express his concerns to her, his hopes for them, and confess his love for her over and over again. He wanted her to know how he feels, he needed to know where they stand and what she needs to feel more comfortable and what he can do to help her feel at ease.

He just needs reassurance, something to hold on to while he provides the same for her. In the end, he knew they would be okay.

After a few minutes, they reached the house of the host. Luke marveled at the mansion that stood proudly in front of him. When Y/N mentioned a party with some label associates, she never mentioned that the party was going to be hosted by the president and owner of the label.

He felt Y/N tug on his hand a couple of times before separating herself from him and going to stand next to the girls.

For a moment Luke forgot that they needed to keep appearances and couldn’t be together romantically in public. He could feel his heart aching as he watched her walk away with her friends, laughing together as they stepped into the party.

“Hey,” Michael said behind him, following the eyes of the sad man next to him “It’s just one night”

He tried to be comforting, but all Luke could wonder was: Would it be just for a night?

The party was wild. That’s the first thought everyone has in their minds as they step through those doors into a world of darkness mixed with neon lights, smoke machines, and three open bars scattered around the hall. People were separated into groups: The ones who were too drunk to stop dancing, the ones not drunk enough to start dancing, and the ones who were networking their way into the industry.

Everyone that was someone was at that party. Producers, artists, songwriters, performers, agents… You name it. It was a party for the big leagues and Luke could not help but feel out of place the moment he stepped foot into the scene.

“Hey! 5 Seconds of Summer. C’mere!” A voice called over the music.

Standing not too far from them there was a man, his bald head shined under the lights as he held a drink to his lips, beckoning the band to come over.

Y/N and the guys started walking towards the man without a second to wait, leaving Luke and their girlfriends to witness the interaction from afar.

“Who’s that?” Asked Luke, getting closer to Danielle as they watched their partners laugh with a bunch of men who were now surrounding the band.

“That’s Anthony Kellinghs” She answered, swiftly grabbing a drink from one of the trays carried by the passing waitresses “He’s one of the big bosses in the industry. Ashton said his team approached them not too long ago to see if they would be interested in changing labels and work with them”

Luke glanced back to the group. Y/N was standing next to Calum, talking about something that made Anthony smile even though her face was serious. He did not like the way that man was looking at her.

Anthony laughed loudly, making other guests turn his face towards them. Y/N and the boys shared a confused gaze as they laughed awkwardly along with him. The bald man kept laughing, clearly intoxicated as he lowered his hand and rounded his arm around Y/N’s waist.

Luke’s breath got caught in his lungs as he watched how Y/N’s body movements came to a halt and her eyes widened in discomfort, her smile seemed stiff but she didn't stop laughing or talking to the guy. Luke could feel his blood boil as he watched his girl in the arms of someone else, acting like nothing was happening and that everything was fine, in front of him.

“What the fuck?” He muttered under his breath. Debating on whether he should go and punch that dude in the face. No matter how important he was in the industry, he wanted him away from Y/N immediately.

But he didn’t move and neither did Y/N. Luke didn’t know if it was because she physically couldn’t or because…

No, he rejected that thought immediately. It was clear to him by her eyes that she was desperate to get away from his touch. And apparently not only to him because the moment that man put his hands around her Ashton and Michael called his attention away from her, moving a few steps back so Y/N could have more space to free herself the moment she could. Calum had his eyes on her, too, with his arm placed to his side as if he were to take her away from there at any second.

Yet the man did not move an inch away from her. Instead, his hand trailed lower with every word he spoke, until Luke couldn’t see it anymore. All he could see what’s Y/N’s uncomfortable face as she suddenly jumped forward, fear written all over her eyes.

Luke let out a curse as he took a step forward, ready to beat that man’s face to dust. But he stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait!” Danielle said, eyes locked on the scene played in front of them.

Luke stared ahead and let out a breath of relief when he saw Calum taking Y/N away from the group and towards the bar, seemingly excusing themselves to get a drink. He saw how his friend’s arm rounded around her shoulders, making it impossible for her to look back and for anyone else to notice her face as they walked away with no intentions of coming back.

Luke lost sight of them as he watched them disappear into the party. “Good,” he thought “At least she’ll be safe and away from him” But that thought did not calm the rage he felt towards the creep that dared touch her in front of her friends.

“I’m going to kill him” He hissed, once again trying to step forwards but once again being pushed back by Ashton’s girl.

“The guys got it covered,” She said, her sweet voice laced with a warning as she whispered loud enough for only them to hear “They will handle it and make sure they never work with that man, ever. It’s not the first time this has happened”

“This happened before?!” Luke said, attracting some curious eyes to him. But he couldn’t care less about it at the moment.

The girls looked at each other and then at Luke. How could they explain to the man that this happens more times than Y/N would be able to admit? They knew first hand how the industry was full of creeps and disgusting men, having dealt with them in the past as well, but Y/N…

She was the front girl, the main focus of attention. She was beautiful, talented, hot… that’s all they saw, never caring about her caring personality, or how intelligent she was, how she was the driven force of 5SOS. She was more than her looks, she was a girl trying to live her dreams. But men only seem to see one thing.

“I’m going to check on them,” Kat said as she walked towards where Calum disappeared with Y/N. Bethany mentioned going to Michael to try and make them get away from the conversation they were still having with that fucker.

And Luke stood there, not able to do anything “Y/N wouldn’t want you to cause a scene, that’s why the boys never do it anymore. She knows how important image is for all of them and a scandal is the last thing they need right now. Especially if some “random dude” goes and punch one of the biggest names in the industry”

Danielle was right and he hated that. He hated that he couldn’t do anything to defend his girl because she didn’t want to be defended. But the fact that she knew how to handle these kinds of things didn’t make it any less wrong or difficult for him to ignore. More so because their relationship was still kept a secret.

Luke couldn’t help but think that maybe if people knew they were together, things like these wouldn’t happen. After all, the only thing men like Anthony respected was the presence of another man.

Ashton and Michael returned after a minute, both of them with their jaws clenched and eyes filled with the same feeling of powerless Luke felt.

“Where is she?” Ashton asked, standing beside Dani and holding her close by the waist, almost as if he were scared something might happen to her.

“Kat went to check on them, they still haven’t returned,” She said, comforting her boyfriend by running her hand up and down his arm.

“This is bullshit” Luke murmured, frustration lacing his voice as he grabbed one drink from one of the waitresses and drowned it in one go without flinching. He turned around and started walking away from the group.

“Where are you going?” Michael asked, half concerned and half furious from him walking away at this moment.

“I need air” He answered as he took another drink and walked through the garden doors. Not even sparing a glance back when Y/N called his name as she watched him go.

Luke spent most of the night going back and forwards between the main hall and the garden. He drank whatever was being offered to him and sat down on a bench as he watched the casual smokers come outside, accompanying him from a distance.

He knew he was being childish. He didn’t understand much about the industry, nor how people that worked in it were. All Luke knew was that Y/N was nothing like them; she was not greedy, nor was she a creep, she wasn’t evil or ill-hearted and she didn’t deserve what happened.

He wanted to be with her, apologize for his shitty behavior, and tell her that he loved her. Because he did. He loved her with all his heart and it hurts him to see her like that. But every time he stepped through those doors back to the main hall - every time more intoxicated than the others - she was nowhere to be found. Or she didn’t want to be found, but that didn’t stop Luke from looking for her.

And every time, wherever he found her, she would have company. Sometimes she would be with the boys and their girlfriends laughing along with some other group of people - usually men - that stood a little too close and personal with her. Other times she would be on her own, talking to some guy or girl he didn’t know, too preoccupied with her conversation to even notice Luke standing at a distance, looking at her with longing eyes as he tried to find the courage to talk to her.

Then, he would go back to the bar, order his drink and go back outside or with the group, tightening the grip on his glass as he watched the girl he loves being swept away in conversations he couldn’t be a part of, after all, he was just one of the composers and her friend. Nothing else.

The guys and their girlfriends tried to cheer him up, including him in conversations and inviting him to dance. They knew how new this was to him, having to remind themselves every once in a while when they caught his sad eyes dancing across the room on the looks of his fleeting love.

“She came looking for you a few minutes ago while you were outside,” Dani told him the third time he came by the group.

“Why didn’t she go out with me?” He asked, eyes on Y/N as she talked to Michael and one of the producers they met in London a few years back.

“She was going to,” Ashton chimed in “She walked over there but I think Niall caught wind of her and they started to catch up”

Luke clenched his jaw at the thought of Y/N with other men. His mind couldn’t help but to go back to all those articles about her exes, her possible new partners, her possible future partners. Cheating scandals, break-up songs, parties where she didn’t leave alone… All the things she refused to acknowledge came to the surface, hitting Luke in the face as he realized that they might not all be lies.

He hated to think about her that way, to think that he didn’t trust her enough or that she didn’t trust him enough or whatever the fuck was wrong with them. But as he saw how Y/N hugged a stranger, all his thoughts went out the window.

“Who is that?” He asked no one in particular.

“Who?” Bethany asked in response, following Luke’s stare towards her friend “Oh, that’s Josh”

“Josh? As in Josh Benthlow? Her ex?”

Beth furrowed her eyebrows as she saw the look of pure rage on the blonde’s eyes “Uh, yeah? But you got something wrong there” She said, “They never dated”

Y/N laughed at something Josh said, pushing him playfully on the shoulder as he kept telling his story. Luke recognized the look in his eyes; it was the same way he used to look at Y/N when they first met: Pure adoration. And, he didn’t know if it was the alcohol in his system that was making him see things that weren’t there, but he could swear he saw Y/N flirt back at him.

“Friends don’t act like that” He spat, taking another sip from his drink, already losing count of how many he had that night.

“Hey!” Beth called his attention, taking the drink from him “That’s enough now. Alcohol is making you act like a complete asshole”

“I-”

“I don’t care.” She said, interrupting whatever he had to say before he even said it “Look, I get that you’re getting used to all of this. But you need to stop with the jealous act right this instant. She’s famous, yes, they all are and that means that you will have to share her with the world whether you like it or not. It’s her dream after all, and besides Y/N would never do something like that to hurt you and you know it”

Did he?

Not long after the group decided to go back to the hotel, having already stayed at that party longer than necessary given that they have a show the next day. The ride back was quiet, everyone either being too tired to even speak or too smart to try and cut the tension that was being created by the new couple’s behavior. Even when Y/N sat next to Luke he didn’t acknowledge her, keeping his eyes looking outside the window the whole car ride.

Y/N was one of the first ones to get out of the car, walking up to the elevators and not waiting for anyone as the doors closed.

Luke clenched his jaw as he contemplated not going to their room tonight, fighting with the feeling of not wanting to see her and the feeling of never wanting to let her go.

“You need to go there right now,” Calum said, taking a step next to Luke but not looking in his eyes “Having been her friend for so long I can see that she’s upset… Nah, fuck that. Even idiots can see that she’s upset”

Luke scoffed “She’s the one that’s upset?” Voice laced with sarcasm.

Calum hummed “Guess not every idiot can see that” He pressed the button of the elevator and hoped in with Kat, not waiting for Luke as the door closed in his face, but not before saying “You’re not the only one hurting, you know?”

It took another 20 minutes for Luke to open the door of their room. Again, Y/N was nowhere to be seen, but the light coming from under the closed bathroom door let him know that she was there.

He sat at the edge of the bed, hands covering his face as he now wished he hadn't drunk as much as he did. His head was spinning, he couldn’t decipher if it were because of the alcohol or because of his intrusive thoughts that wouldn’t leave his head.

Y/N got out of the bathroom for what it felt like an eternity later. She was wearing her Spongebob pajama and her hair was tied in a messy bun. Her makeup-less face looked tired as she didn’t glance at Luke before sitting by her side of the bed.

They stayed in silence for another five minutes before she decided to speak.

“Are we going to talk about tonight?” She said, voice neutral of any emotion.

Luke scoffed “Now you want to talk?”

She ignored him “I didn’t see you all night, Luke. I was worried”

“Oh, you were?” He mocked with cruel sarcasm as he got up from the bed and started pacing around the room “Funny way to show it you weren’t around!”

“I wasn’t around?! Luke, you spent half the night outside! Every time I came over you were nowhere to be found!”

“And every time I was there you were too busy talking to other people”

“I was working, Luke!” She said with a groan, massaging her temple as she turned to look at him “It’s part of my job to make connections at these kinds of events. And if you didn’t notice, Calum, Ashton, and Michael did the same”

“Well, you must be pretty damn good at your job then!”

Y/N looked at him, shocked by the way he was speaking to her “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Luke was angry at her question. How could she not know? “Why don’t you ask Josh what I mean?”

“Oh my fucking GOD,” She said with the loudest tone he’s ever heard her talk “That’s what this is all about?! He’s a friend!”

“I was a friend, too and we still fucked!” Luke matched her tone of voice, probably waking the people in the room next to theirs.

Y/N laughed humorlessly “You have no right to-”

“And whose fault is that? Huh? Whose fault is that I cannot call you my girlfriend in front of other people? Whose fault is that I have to stand to the side and watch you flirt with every guy on earth just because “it’s your job”?” He asked “Y/N, I’m trying so hard for you to let me in and the only thing you do is push me away! Are you embarrassed by me in any way?”

“No,” She said, finally meeting his eyes and seeing no more anger in them, just an incredible sadness for both of them “No, of course not”

“Then why?” Luke asked, taking a step towards her and cupping her cheek with one hand “Why can’t you let me protect you? Why can’t I be with you freely? I know some things are hard for you to talk about, love. I get that. But I’m drowning here, not knowing what to think or what to say to make you trust me”

Y/N stayed quiet as she looked into his eyes before looking away. Luke sighed.

“We don’t have to talk about this right now. But we’ll have to do it eventually”

“I know,” She said with a string of voice.

“Sorry for the things I said”

“I’m sorry, too”

Luke wanted to kiss her, to comfort her. Even though he is still mad at her, he still has this need to protect her from the wrongs of the world. But she’s got to let him in first.

Instead, Luke placed a kiss on her head and walked towards the bathroom to get changed for the night. When he came back Y/N was already asleep on her side of the bed, her back turned to Luke’s side.

He let out a sigh as he turned off the lights, laying down facing the other side as he murmured a “Good night” Barely missing the soft sniff she gave in response.

The next morning Luke woke up without her by his side. He felt a tug in his heart as he remembered all the things he said to her, the cruel way in which he implied that it was all her fault when both of them had a bit of blame to put in their names. He wouldn’t be surprised if in the middle of the night she decided to leave and sleep somewhere else.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, ready to give her a call and apologize properly, hoping she’d pick up. But just as he was about to press the call button, the door opened.

Y/N walked in, sandwich and orange juice in hand. A small smile came to her lips when she saw him already awake.

“Hey,” She said softly, almost like if there were someone else in the room that was sleeping “You missed breakfast, so I bought you this. It’s now much but-“

“Thank you,” Luke said with complete honesty.

Y/N nodded, walking up to his nightstand to place the drink and the sandwich. But before she could walk away again, Luke grabbed her softly by the arm.

“Luke-“

“I’m sorry,” He said, his baby blue eyes looking into hers. He was sad to see no emotion in them compared with how shiny they were yesterday before the fight “I didn’t mean it”

Y/N let out a sigh as she sat on the bed next to him “No, you’re not” She said almost resignedly “And yes, you did. And it’s okay, I deserve it”

Luke shook his head, feeling even worse than before “No, Y/N I was out of place and-“

“You were, but that didn’t make your words any less than truthful. I hurt you, Luke. Even without wanting to” She said with a broken voice, but the tears didn’t come “But I want to change that. Tonight, we can talk after the concert. Okay?”

“I don’t want to pressure you” His hand flew to her face, placing a strand of hair behind her back. She smiled softly and kissed the palm of his hand.

“I know, but I want to” Finally, she got up from the bed and started walking into the bathroom, gathering some of her things. “We’ll start early today with some interviews and sound check, and the girls wanted to go shopping so they’ll meet us there. I will send a car for you before the concert and then we’ll talk. Alright?”

She grabbed her back and headed towards the door, giving Luke one last look and a soft smile before she left.

Luke didn't forget how she didn’t kiss him before she closed the door.

*

The day passed by and Luke was still in their room. He sat in front of the table with his notebook and pen, writing up words that, at that moment, reminded him of her.

He didn’t like how they were acting with each other. How quick everything went to shit after last night’s mistakes when words were louder than actions until those words became apologies.

Y/N said he didn’t mean his apology, and deep down he knew it to be true. He regrets the way he told her, admiring that he would have handled things a little better than he did. But he meant what he said about her pushing him away by not communicating. They were both trying but apparently, they sucked at it.

Truth was, there was no one to blame. Truth was, they were both at fault. And, truth was that he would still fall to his knees for her the moment she asked. Because he had never loved someone as much as he loved her.

When the time of the concert was almost upon him, he quickly jumped into the shower, ignoring all the beeps and rings of his phone as his thoughts and hopes filled his mind. He thought about what he was going to say to her, and he hoped that they could finally get past this and leave this whole situation behind; to start over and just be free.

He was putting on his shirt when his phone started beeping again, finally checking it to see what the fuss was all about.

Thousands upon thousands of notification flooded his screen, and they all said the same thing:

“Y/N AND MADDEN BACK TOGETHER?!”

“THE ENCOUNTER OF THE YEAR! MADDEN BANKS AND Y/N L/N SEEN TOGETHER AGAIN TALKING ON THE OUTSIDES OF THE VENUE”

“OMG Y/N X MADDEN SHIPPER REJOICE AS THE COUPLE SEEMS TO HAVE REKINDLED THEIR RELATIONSHIP AFTER CHEATING SCANDAL”

Luke felt as if an elephant was standing on top of his chest, losing his balance and falling to the bed with his phone in hand, unable to look away from his screen. 

His breathing became elaborated as his eyes filled with tears as he read the tweets and article titles. He knew he shouldn’t click on them. He knew. And yet…

“Lead singer of the band 5 Seconds of Summer, Y/N L/N was last seen talking to her ex-boyfriend, Madden Banks, in a secluded alley outside the venue where the band is going to perform their concert tonight. 

We last saw the couple last year around August when Madden announced their breakup after cheating scandals came out to the surface. None of the parties made any comments about it, but it was set to believe that Y/N was the one who committed the mistakes after a set of tweets on Bank’s personal account where it said that he was feeling “broken-hearted” by the situation and he hoped no one had to get through that ever again. 

Now it seems that the past is the past! As Y/N and Madden were caught by paparazzi talking again, and by the looks on both their faces it seemed like their relationship was not over after all! 

We are still waiting for confirmations from either of them but congratulations to the couple ❤️”

A set of pictures were attached to the article. All of them of bad quality and from questionable sources. 

On the first one, you could see Madden smiling with Y/N’s back facing the camera. On the second one, Madden was closer to her, almost cradling her face as if to kiss her. The third picture had Madden pointing out the paparazzi, a surprised expression plastered on his face as Y/N appeared out of focus. The last picture had Y/N walking away with Madden following behind, both of them with angry faces seemingly for being interrupted. 

Luke was gripping on his phone tightly, a sense of rage coming over him as he wiped his tears furiously and walked up the door. Turning off his phone before he could read Y/N’s message:

Y/N: it’s not true! Let me explain…

*

He did not go to the concert that night, nor did he stay in their bedroom, opting for sleeping in the room that was originally assigned to him. 

His emotions walked him into a bar last night, letting him drown his sorrows in alcohol as he slowly drifted away from his senses. He doesn’t remember getting to the hotel, but he does remember not wanting to be with her that night. Feeling betrayed and used, what was the point? 

It was pretty late when he woke up the next morning, too late for Y/N to even be in the hotel knowing that they still needed to do a lot of press before traveling to their next destination. It was sufficient to say that he was not going to go with them. 

He was about to book a flight when he noticed his phone died while being turned off last night. He was in such a rush that he forgot to bring his charger with him, but he felt confident that it was safe for him to go back to her room now that she was gone. He would pack all his things and leave, he was not about to endure any of this shit anymore, no matter how much it hurts him. 

When he opened the door to her room, however, Luke noticed that he was not alone. 

“You didn’t come last night” 

Y/N was standing by the window, looking at the street through the thin curtain, hoping she might catch a glimpse of Luke walking back to her. She was wearing the hotel’s robe and had her hair tied in a ponytail. Her voice was fragile, tired, and broken as if she spent all night crying. 

“Good,” thought Luke “at least we’ll both be miserable” 

Luke didn’t answer that, instead, he just asked “I thought you’d be doing the press tour” 

She shook her head, her back still facing him as she sniffed “I couldn’t go. I didn’t know where you were” 

He would’ve thought it was touching and he might’ve felt bad for her if she hadn’t shattered his heart the night before. So he said nothing. 

“I needed you last night, Luke,” She said, voice a little firmer as she finally turned around. Luke’s heart ached when he saw her delicate figure, she looked sick, pale, and tired. Her eyes were puffy and her nose was red from all the crying. Part of him wanted to go to her and hold her, but her betrayal was still too fresh on his skin.

Luke scoffed “Sure you did” He didn’t intend for his voice to sound with such malice, but it was almost as if his tongue had a brain on itself “Was Madden not enough?” 

“Stop,” 

“Is he here?” He asked, voice mocking interest as he walked around the room “C’mon Asshole!” He called, opening the closet doors and walking into the bathroom “You won, motherfucker, you can have her! It’s not like it’s hard anyway” 

Her eyes widened at his words, cheeks turning pink at the realization of the insult “Luke!”

“Was this part of your plan?” He asked, turning towards her with nothing but the rage inside his eyes “To bring me here to make him jealous? To make me fall for you so easily? Is that why we never went public? Ha! Should’ve known you just wanted a free pass to whore around while still making sure you have a secure fuck waiting back at the hotel” 

Y/N froze. Not even Luke could believe the words that were coming out of his mouth, but he was too far gone in his own anger to process them or to take them back. 

“This is the part where you apologize,” She said, eyes filling with tears she refused to spill. 

“No, this is the part where I tell you to fuck off” Luke spat, taking a step towards her, not realizing how she flinched as she took a step back “You know, I tried so fucking hard for months to make you happy. And every day I read those fucking articles that were talking shit about you and every fucking day I told myself that those weren’t real. That you weren’t like that… surprise, surprise! Looks like the cat is out of the bag. Makes sense! That’s why you never wanted to talk, you never wanted to admit to what you did because you never take any fucking responsibilities for the damages you cause! I thought I knew you, at least some parts of you. Turns out everyone is right about you. Every fucking word of it” 

He turned around, ready to grab his things and go, but the adrenaline was kicking in and he just couldn’t stop.

“Tell Madden that he’s an idiot for taking you back,” He said with his back turned to her “That he should’ve left your cheating ass alone. Let you get what you deserve”

“I never cheated” She mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. 

He scoffed “Yeah, right” 

“I never fucking cheated!” Y/N raised his voice, making Luke turn around to face her. Her face was red with tears and she had her fist clenched to her sides, knuckles white from all the pressure she was putting in.

“I never cheated on Madden! I never fucking cheated on you! On anyone! He cheated on me, repeatedly and with several people for all the course of our relationship! I never touched a person outside ANY of my relationships. I have been nothing but faithful to you and now you’re throwing that shit at me without knowing an ounce of my side of the story?! 

You want to know, Luke, why I never tell the story as it was? Why it’s so fucking hard for me to tell the story even to the people I love?” 

It was a challenge, he knew from the look in her eyes that she was not going to stay quiet any longer. She didn’t even wait for his answer. 

“I was fucking abused, Luke! Physically, mentally, sexually… you fucking name it! During that whole relationship. Want me to tell you the details or you could figure it out yourself?! I was getting beaten almost daily! I had to hide the bruises and cuts in front of the guys as they slowly watched me fall apart. I had to lie to them for YEARS because I genuinely thought he loved me. He said he did so I believed him. It wasn’t until one night where he got too far that I had to tell myself that it was enough. But what could I say? I was so fucking embarrassed I couldn’t go to the media that calls me a liar every chance they have! I couldn’t go to the police because he has money and could easily get away with it! I was so fucking alone until I met you and… You took his side” 

Luke felt like his heart was taking a punch with every word that she said. Every tear that fell off her eyes was like a knife in the back. The guilt was eating him inside out, crashing into him like a tsunami. He should’ve kept his mouth shut, he shouldn’t have let his emotions take the reins, he should’ve... He felt all of his emotions turn to mush, all but shame as he stared into her eyes knowing he was the one who fucked up. 

“Y/N-“

“I needed you last night when he cornered me. I needed you by my side as I broke down backstage because you weren’t answering your phone. How do you think I felt when I came into our room and found it empty? I was ready to tell you everything and then you just decided that wasn’t worth it anymore. That I wasn’t worthy anymore. All without giving me a chance” She cried, shattering sobs running through her body as she remembered the feeling of hopelessness she had “Not only that, but I come to find this on your side of the bed”

She threw his notebook at him, he didn’t need to open it to know what she read. Already regretting leaving it there. 

“Sometimes, you're a stranger in my bed

Don't know if you love me or you want me dead.

Some days, you're the best thing in my life

Sometimes when I look at you, I see my wife

Then you turn into somebody I don't know

And you push me away

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late-night devil, put your hands on me

And never let go” 

She recited the words by memory, having read them over and over again as she waited for him to come back.

“Is that really how you see me, Luke?” She asked, voice broken as she looked into his eyes. 

Luke felt his body tremble with shame as he looked at her. He has never seen her look so sad and fragile before, the smile he loved so much was gone and he knew he might never see it again. He wanted to scream that that’s now how he saw her at all. Those words were written out of frustration, out of anger. He wanted to tell her that she’s the most amazing, loving, strong, intelligent person he know but... how could he even look her in the eyes?

He knew that he went too far. That he should’ve given her a chance to explain what happened instead of just letting the media fill his brain with lies; lies he believed without question because of his insecurities. He broke the strongest girl he’s ever known, but she was still standing. 

Despite the hurt, he caused her, she was still standing in front of him. Demanding answers he doesn’t know how to give. Still being so much braver than him.

“Y/N, I-“ He began, voice breaking as he was left speechless. How could he ask for her forgiveness now that he broke every ounce of trust she held for him? 

“Luke, I think you should leave,” She said, rounding her arms around her torso as she looked back at the window. Unable to hold her gaze to him any longer. 

“No,” Luke begged of her. Pleaded, even “Y/N, baby don’t-“ 

“Leave” She repeated more firmly “If I’m such a monster, the best thing we can do is for you to go home” 

She turned her back to him once again, and he knew that he had just lost the battle he was too scared to even fight.

Y/N cried silent tears as she heard him gather his belongings and pack his bags, feeling as if she might collapse into the floor if she weren’t holding herself too tightly. If she concentrated, she could hear him cry, too, until he closed the last of his bags and walked through the door.

Because, after all, he would still go to the ends of the world if she asked.

.

.

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @notinthesameguey @bubblegum18 @irwin-fletcher-ash @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @1980holland @myloverboyash @nicebasscalum @calumspupils @secretsicanthideanymore @the-ghost-of-ash​ @alltimesos @kingxnichole @givebuckyhisplumsnow @hufflehemm @girl-toxxic

#luke hemmings #5 seconds of summer #5sos #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings fanfiction #Luke hemmings fanfic #suchalonelysunflower #end up here series #5sos!reader au #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5sos writing #5sos fanfiction #luke 5sos #5sos luke #luke 5 seconds of summer #luke hemmings angst #Luke hemmings smut #5 seconds of summer luke #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #5 seconds of summer fanfic #ashton irwin #calum hood #michael clifford #over and out #Luke fic #Luke imagine #luke fanfic #Luke x reader #luke x you

[alexcabotgf]

TAGGED BY: @robert-pattinsons (thank you icon!! 💖)

RULES: you can usually tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to. put your favorite playlist on shuffle and list the first ten songs

1. dan the dancer by mitski 2. jealousy, jealousy by olivia rodrigo 3. hard candy by counting crows 4. that funny feeling covered by phoebe bridgers 5. anna begins (live at town hall version) by counting crows 6. crying in the night (live) by stevie nicks 7. beautiful by lana del rey 8. the lighthouse by halsey 9. love galore by sza 10. drunks by the gits

TAGGED BY: @mangosorbetter (thanks queen!! 💕) to post my top 5 songs right now

1. violet by hole 2. all for us by labrinth ft. zendaya 3. emo girl by machine gun kelly ft. willow 4. softer, softest by hole 5. не питай by океан ельзи

TAGGING: @queencalanthes @stevienick @florencipugh @brandon-lee @orla-mcool @jiangwanyin @userscream (for both or either, but only if you want to)

#can you tell that im in my hole era #tag games #machine gun kelly

[bts-teaspoonff]

Fangirl pt. 1

Genre: Romance, Slow Burn, Idol A/U

Pairing: BTS OT7 x reader

Rating: PG

Summary: Y/N, being a huge fangirl, finally got her chance to work alongside her favorite idol group as a backup dancer. She gets to know each member personally and realizes that her feelings may be more than fangirl-idol attraction.

Word Count: 3K

PARTS: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | .... masterlist

“It’s finally here!” I shouted as I bolted from my room towards the front door to greet the delivery man carrying my package. Even without looking at the mirror, I could feel my smile going up to my ears and my heartbeat furiously echoing through my chest. The delivery man handed me a medium sized box and stared at me as I reach out for the box with a huge smile plastered on my face. I signed the delivery form, closed the door and ran back inside my unit.

I ran to the living room and placed the box on the floor. I turned to my left and hurriedly rummaged for my cutter inside the drawer beside the sofa. I also took my phone on top of the said drawer and placed it on my lap. I swiftly sat down on the floor in front of my package with the cutter ready in my hand when I remembered something. I unlocked my phone and proceeded to video call my brother who’s at work. My brother’s name and his photo appeared on the screen as I wait for him to answer the call.

“Hey Y/N…” His face popped up on my screen. I silently giggled at the angle of his front camera when he answered the call. Not really flattering despite him being good looking. He must have placed the phone on a table directly below his face. “You know I’m at work right? Why did you call? Emergency?” I could hear keyboard sounds in the background. He must be busy typing on the computer as he didn’t bat an eye on his phone while talking to me.

“Yeah I know. I just wanted to share some good news” My camera is facing towards me with just my eyes peeking through screen. I was worried that maybe he’s with some people at work that might see me when he answers the video call and I’m not decent looking right now. “My package has arrived!” I low-key squealed as I pressed the ‘rotate camera’ button on the screen and directed the camera at the package. I could see my brother looking now at the phone. He placed his phone in front of him and leaned it on a stable surface for him to see me properly. He continued to type slowly on his keyboard as he steal glances on his phone screen.

“Don’t tell me…. You bought another merch?” He giggled as he looked at his phone screen and continued to type on his keyboard. He looked back at his computer screen after a second, with a smile on his face. I opened the package with my cutter on one hand and my phone on the other. Tearing through the tape, I can’t contain my excitement as i shrieked when my cutter got through the end of the tape. I released the cutter from my hand and pushed it aside.

“BTS Merch! Oh my god, I have been waiting for these for weeks. I got the latest album, more Tiny Tan figurines, and some concert goods from last tour.” I proceeded to open the box and showed my brother the contents. I felt accomplishment as I look at all the merchandise that has just arrived at home. My ARMY heart couldn’t contain the joy that I have right now. I shot my eyes back on the phone screen and saw my brother smiling as he looked at me through the phone screen.

“Hey, I’m happy you are happy but you know I work in Big Hit right? I work for them?” He stopped typing, took the phone back in his hands and brought the phone close to his face. “I could just easily buy these things for you with my employee discount.” And now his whole face is occupying my phone screen. 

“Jiyong, I know but where’s the fun in that? I want to buy these items using my own money. Well, an employee discount is nice but I don’t want to abuse your privilege as I buy too much of their merchandise.” I snorted at the fact that I really do buy too much of their merchandise. Besides, when I use his employee discount, the items are delivered directly to him as he works inside the Big Hit Building. With the amount of merchandise that I buy, I don’t want to embarrass him and label him as a big fanboy especially with him working so close to the boys.

“If you weren’t my twin sister, I would totally laugh at you. Not that I think you’re crazy but you’re…. loyal” He puts emphasis on the last word. He respects my deep profound respect for the 7 boys but he thinks that maybe I have gone too far with the purchases. He placed his phone back in front of him, leaning on a surface. “Oh before I forget, did you read my email?” I was taken aback with topic change but I’m used to it as he does this all the time. I pressed the ‘rotate camera’ button once again for him to see my face. 

“No, I haven’t opened my email yet. I went home so late last night. My last client in the gym arrived late so we finished late as well. A bummer.” I scoffed as I remembered the fatigue that enveloped my body yesterday. I work as a gym trainer/physical therapist full time and a dance teacher/choreographer as my sideline. I work at my friend’s gym located in the heart of Seoul as a gym trainer. I currently handle 7 clients, some who I have worked with for a few years already. I also teach dance classes at a small dance studio just a few blocks from where I live. Mainly, I handle BTS dance classes because duh, I am a full-blooded ARMY. I really tried to make my passion as a source of income and it warms my heart to see people having fun when I teach them those dances.

“Check it. Anyways, I gotta go. I still have a lot to do. As you know, the company is busy since BTS will be releasing another album sometime this year.” My brother currently works as a Recording Engineer in Big Hit. He used to brag to me that he’ll spend hours with BTS and TXT. I was jealous of course but I am so proud he’s working for them. Whenever I listen to songs from Big Hit artists, I try to think that he has contributed to a lot of songs despite not knowing what exact songs he has worked on. Another reason why I listen and support them.

We both said our farewells and dropped the call. As I took out all the contents of the package unto the floor, I used my phone on the other hand. I opened my mail and saw few unread emails. Some of them were from my subscriptions on Netflix and Spotify, which I barely read. On top of the list was my brother’s mail. I saw the subject “READ THIS FANGIRL!” and I laughed. Here I thought he sent me something urgent or important that needs my utmost attention. Must be another event or merchandise that they’ve yet to announce to the public.

I opened the mail and my eyes were glued to the first line of the message body.

“Big Hit is hiring backup dancers. See the forwarded email below, sis. I think they’re meaning to assign whoever they’ll hire as part of BTS dance team.” Did I just receive this email? It came from my brother so it must be true. He won’t prank me like that. If I apply, there’s no guarantee that I’ll be hired right? That’s too bad if I won’t be hired but there’s nothing to lose if I try to apply.

I left my package scattered throughout my floor and ran towards my laptop lying on my bed. I sat down on the floor beside my bed and opened my laptop. I felt like a kid but here I am, rushing to find my resume to apply for a new job that might eventually change my life.

….

It’s been a week since I applied as a backup dancer for Big Hit. I sent in my resume and a few videos of me dancing to some of their artists’ songs. I’m lucky to have known a lot of BTS’ songs and choreographies by heart and I might have tried to study some of their label mates’ songs as well. I haven’t received a reply back from them and I’m worried that I may not receive any response ever.

Apparently, BTS is known for having only male backup dancers as far as I know so it’s news to me that they’re hiring female backup dancers now. It got me thinking that this might also attract fellow fangirls like me to apply but knowing Big Hit, they wouldn’t want anything scandalous to happen just because they hired female backup dancers. I’m not saying that female dancers lack professionalism but how the boys are the top rank boy group in the country, female fans would be green with jealousy if they see female dancers dancing with them. Some Armies are really protective when it comes to the boys so it’s really shocking to hear that the company is finally considering this.

The day that I got the mail from my brother, I spent half of my day planning what dances to shoot and submit. I chose BTS’ Idol and Singularity, TXT’s Crown and a freestyle dance to Beyonce’s Yonce. I wanted to showcase my range in dancing by carefully choosing a variety of songs. I admit that the reason I may have applied to this job is partly because I’m a fangirl but nonetheless, my passion for dancing is bigger. I have been dancing since I was a kid but I was not this confident at the start. It’s hard to convince me to perform in front of a bigger audience, let alone a stadium full of fans. I slowly got over my fear little by little when I started teaching dance classes at the dance studio. The fear is still there and you may wonder why I am applying for this job when I’m scared shit in performing for a large audience. BTS taught me to love myself and I am really trying my best to go out of my comfort zone. I figured that this may be my best chance in doing so. Also, I get the benefit of working alongside them which is a big plus.

I couldn’t really focus on my job for the whole week. I find myself regularly checking my mail in the hopes of getting a response from Big Hit. 5 days and there’s still no mail. Maybe my email just went to their spam folder or maybe I typed in the wrong mail. On the 7th day while I was pulling out my clothes in the dryer, I heard a ping from my phone from across the hall. I left my phone on my bed and the laundry room is right beside my room. I noticed that the ping was my assigned tone for mails. I hurriedly took out all my warm dry clothes and unto the basket, closed the door of the dryer and turned the lights off in the laundry room.

“New Mail. Subject: Dance Team Application” I saw the notification banner and my heart just jumped out of my chest. I felt my forehead sweating profusely, fingers shaking and my throat closing up as I try to open my phone and check my mail. I silently and swiftly read the contents of the mail. After two seconds, I shrieked at the top of my lungs and threw my phone across my bed. I ran out of my room and in circles around the living room. Good thing I live alone so that I could just celebrate and make loud noises like this. I jumped up and down on the sofa while etching the image of the mail into my head. I buried my head on my pillows and shouted once more, emptying all the air out of my lungs.

I ran back into my room and read the mail again.

“Good day, Miss Y/N.

We have received your application and we are glad to say that we are impressed with your resume and skillset. We would like you to come in our office tomorrow so we can meet and talk personally with our dance team. We are glad to have you join our current dance team. Details of our meeting are expressed below.

Time: 10 am

Address: 42 Teheran-ro 108-gil, Daechi-dong, Gangnam-gu, Seoul, South Korea

Attire: Comfortable Casual

Please look for Mina at the front desk to escort you. Thank you.”

I still can’t believe what I’m seeing. Did I just got accepted? As a backup dancer? For Big Hit? Maybe for BTS? I’m such a lucky fangirl. I can’t wait for tomorrow.

….

It’s a good thing that my schedule is free today. I don’t have any clients in the gym scheduled for today and the dance studio is closed for today. I was so nervous and excited at the same time. I woke up at 6 am as I feel my jitters bothering my sleep. I tried to go back to sleep but I trashed the bed and rolled side to side for about 30 mins so I decided to go for a run. I turned on my Spotify and played my ‘Intense Run Playlist’ which mostly consists of high bpm BTS songs. There’s a jogging path near where I live and the scenery is filled with trees. Very calming, which I really need right now.

I arrived in front of the Big Hit Building around 8:30 am. I made sure to arrive early as I don’t want to be late for the meeting. I’m so anxious right now if I’m allowed to go up as early as 9 am or should I just arrived on time. I lingered outside and paced back and forth at a nearby shade. I wondered if I could visit my brother and stay with him for the mean time.

“Is she a stalker?” I heard whispers coming from my right as I slumped back at the pole where I’m taking shade just across the building. “That’s scary.” Three schoolgirls were standing a few meters away from me. They were staring and smirking at me. I wondered why they would think of me as such then I realized that I wore my hoodie up to cover half of my face.

“I’m not…”

“Good luck stalker-nim. You won’t get a glimpse of the boys.” They giggled and ogled me with judgmental looks with their arms across the chests. “Can you get away from the boys? We don’t want stalker armies like you.”

“As I said, I’m not a stalker and I’m older than you. Why are you talking to me in an informal tone?” I pull my hoodie off my head and slowly tread towards them. They laughed and ran away at the sight of me making my way to them. Sheesh, do I really look like a stalker?

I looked at my watch and it’s still 9:10 am. I guess I could try and visit my brother. The fresh morning air blew gently in my face, as if to welcome me, and be my merry playmate, and the sun looked at me with a warm and tender smile. What a nice start to my day, I thought. I put up my hoodie again and I was comfortable once more with the warmth my mere hoodie gave me.

“I have a meeting in your building today. Do you want to meet up? I’m not due until 10 am. – your adorable look alike” I texted my brother and inserted my phone back in my pocket. I breathed in the fresh breeze and not a second later, my phone pinged. I pulled out my phone to see my brother’s name on the screen.

“Lucky, I’m on a coffee break. I’ll be down in a sec.” he replied. A grin was present on my face as I stood up from where I was leaning. I skipped from across the street towards the building. I looked above at the sky and towards the top of the Big Hit Building and when I returned my gaze back in front of me, I was met by a dark haired man in his mid-twenties. I bumped into him and was knocked down at the side of the street. I exclaimed in pain as I rub my backside.

“Hey look where you’re go…” I looked up and immediately recognized the face. The man was wearing a grey Fear of God shirt paired with black baggy pants. His face was half covered by a black mask and his hair was kept away from his face with a black headband almost occupying his whole forehead.

“You should be the one watching you’re going. Crossing the street while prancing around like that.” He scoffed and continued to make his way towards the building. He didn’t even help me up. I sneered back.

“I’m sorry. I assure you that he’s not usually like this. He’s in a bad mood.” Two hands were suddenly around my elbows, propping me up from the ground. I turned my head and saw a woman around mid-twenties as well. She was carrying an opened big black bag propped on her right shoulder with filled with piles of unruly papers stuck inside. When I finally was able to stand up properly, she took off her hands from me and bowed in apology. She swiftly followed the man and shouted, “Yoongi, wait. I can explain.”

So I was right. It was Suga. All the images of a funny and loving Min Yoongi ran through my mind. Just like a scary movie, it was replaced by a disgusted look he shot at me a while ago. Did he…. Maybe he thought I was a stalker or something? I guess if I really looked like one then I don’t blame him for shooting those looks at me. However, a decent person would help anyone up in that situation.

I beat the dust off my hoodie and slowly treaded towards the building’s entrance. Not a really good way to start my first interaction with anyone from BTS, I thought.

Next part: 2

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts ot7 #bts ot7 x reader #bts ot 7 fanfiction #ot7 x reader #bts kim namjoon #bts kim seokjin #bts min yoongi #bts junghoseok #bts park jimin #bts kim taehyung #bts jeon jungkook #bts imagine #bts idol au #rm x reader #suga x reader #jin x reader #jhope x reader #jimin x reader #v x reader #jungkook x reader #bts backup dancer #bts x backup dancer #backup dancer ff

[ptergwen]

you’ll still have me | p.p.

w/c: 2.4k

warnings: angst, mentions of death and a toxic living situation

summary: in a life filled with uncertainty, peter is your constant

a/n: the idea for this was sitting in my mind and writing it out made me feel better about some stuff? i hope it does the same for all of you <3

════*･ﾟ✲

you were only kids the first time you and peter met. it was the summer before fourth grade. you’d just moved in to his building because your parents wanted a fresh start. new neighborhood, new school, new family. the last one didn’t work out. they fought about the same old things in an unfamiliar apartment. you were really hoping something would change.

anything to make them go one night without a screaming match.

your mom and dad never had a great relationship, but they used to at least tolerate each other. or, they pretended to for you. you picked up on it as you got older. they also stopped hiding it as you got older. the place and people you used to call home became unlivable. you were tired of being forced to choose sides. you couldn’t take the tension between everyone.

so, you’d sit on the steps outside your apartment until the yelling stopped. sometimes, you cried. you usually brought headphones to drown them out. there were also the occasional times you roamed the hallways of your building. your parents never showed you around it like they said they would. you might as well have given yourself a tour.

may found you one day walking around her floor. she was never one to pry, but she couldn’t ignore a kid in distress. you were frowning at a wall when she came up to you. “hi, what’s your name?” she asked sweetly. you glanced over at her. “y/n.” “y/n, huh? i’m may.” there was a beat of silence that you didn’t fill. the fight your parents were having that day was worse than usual. it was about you.

“what are you doing up here all alone?” may furrowed her eyebrows, pushing her glasses up on her nose. tears filled your eyes before you could explain. her heart broke for you. she waited until you calmed down to ask what happened. you told her everything the best you could. she couldn’t let you go back home after knowing what was going on there. she invited you over to her apartment.

“you’re the same age as my nephew,” may told you on the way over with a small smile. you perked up a little. “i think you’ll like him.”

she knocked on peter’s door and said he had a guest. peter closed the book he was reading and told her to come in. when he saw you standing behind her, he gasped. a girl? in his room? he’d been shy about these types of things his whole life. may quietly filled him in on your situation, and his look of terror became one of empathy. he cleared his throat.

“do you like legos?”

-

the parker’s became part of your life after that day. may, ben, and peter. you met ben the next time may took you in. he was really funny and helped you and peter make ice cream sundaes. being with the three of them made you forget about your problems for a little while. they were the family you wished you could go home to.

peter eventually started inviting you over himself. you went to different schools, but you got out at the same time. he’d walk you up to your apartment. if the two of you heard fighting, he’d ask if you wanted to come upstairs. you didn’t even have to tell him yes.

may was right. you did like him. you became friends fast, and he was one of your first in the neighborhood. he had this lighthearted and happy kind of energy that rubbed off on you every time you came over. he’d cheer you up right away. you two laughed all afternoon long at whatever shows were playing on nickelodeon. peter made weird faces to get a smile out of you.

he really enjoyed spending all this time together. he didn’t see you as some random girl to feel bad for. you were his friend.

you got your own key to his apartment when you turned thirteen. he convinced may because you were “already over all the time. she basically lives here.” she couldn’t argue with that. plus, she loved you like her own. why shouldn’t you let yourself in?

-

ben’s passing changed everything.

you came over after the funeral. peter and may were still dressed in black. the air felt heavy. she kept on a brave face for him, even when you hugged her tight. you said how sorry you were, how incredible of a person her husband was. peter couldn’t do the same. he broke down the second you took him into your arms.

he hid his face in your neck, his tears dripping down your shirt. it was you who cried on his shoulder all these years. now, the roles were reversed. the sob he let out made you tear up yourself.

“he’s gone, y/n. he’s gone.”

there was nothing you could say. all you did was hold him close. you knew peter never had it easy. he lost his parents, then his uncle. it wasn’t fair. he had to grow up when he was little.

you both did.

-

high school was a blur. you barely spent time at home anymore, either busy with clubs or over at peter’s. you liked it that way. your parents were fighting with each other and now you. they were on you about never being there, saying you broke this family. you just took their shit, then let peter make you forget about it later.

peter turned from an awkward little boy to an awkward young man in front of your eyes. he learned to cover up his sweat stains with body spray. his voice dropped a bit. he’d actually managed to ask a girl out at one point. they went to homecoming together.

you helped him get ready. you found yourself having to choose support over jealousy. why you were jealous, you didn’t know. peter asked if you wanted to come, but you said your school was having a dance next week. that was a lie. it had already happened the day before.

you also found yourself relieved when he said there wasn’t going to be a second date. again, you had no idea where this was coming from.

it didn’t seem like it was only on your end. peter had started keeping an arm around your shoulders when you watched movies. he added your favorite snacks to the grocery list every week. he gave you his hoodies, and didn’t care if you took them home.

the gestures were sweet. sudden, but sweet. you appreciated him more than he probably knew. one day, it all just becomes too real.

-

“you know what i realized?” peter asks you, hanging upside down on the top of his bunk bed. you’re on the bottom. you poke his shoulder with a pencil. “don’t fall.” he rolls over with a huff, then hops onto the floor. he sits down perpendicular to you. smiling smugly, you close your notebook. “you know what i realized?” he asks again. “what?” peter turns his head to look at you.

“we’ve known each other for eight years, and we only hang out here.” you purse your lips. “so?” peter furrows an eyebrow with a curious smile. “isn’t it kind of weird? like, i never see you outside of this building.” you’d never thought about it before. now that you are, it does seem strange. “i guess, but we’ve never had anywhere else to go.” he looks you up and down. “not true.”

something tells you you’re not going to like what he says next. it’s getting too serious.

“i was thinking, maybe we could go for dinner?”

the corners of your mouth twitch into a frown. peter doesn’t realize. he keeps going on. “on a date, i mean. i saw this place the other day that you-“ you put up a hand to cut him off. “i can’t, peter.” he shrugs. “it doesn’t have to be today. whenever you’re free.” your throat feels tight. you start getting your things together. “no, i can’t go out with you. i... i’m sorry.”

you hurry to the door. peter shoots up from his bed. “it’s fine. we don’t have to, y/n. please stay.” a hot tear streams down your cheek before you can blink it back. you turn around and grab the handle. “i have to go.” “y/n-“

you’re out the door. he wants to go after you, but it doesn’t feel right. you need some time alone.

the second you get into your bedroom, you burst into tears. your breathing is heavy and fast. if only peter was here to hug you through it. but, that’s the whole reason you’re crying. you wish you would’ve said yes. you’d be trying each other’s food or holding hands down the street.

only, it’s not that easy. what you have going would never be the same. peter is the stability you’ve always longed for, the safe place you could always go to. you can’t lose that. even if things worked out between you two, you can’t risk it. you can’t lose him or may. a night out isn’t worth that. he’ll never be in your life the way you want him to, but at least you’ll still have him.

-

you haven’t been over to peter’s in weeks. you’ve thought about texting him, explaining why you said no. that never happened. you bump into may sometimes in the mailroom. she offers sad smiles, which you awkwardly return. peter must have told her.

there was one time he saw you wandering around his floor. it was like you were kids again, peter shy around a girl and you feeling lost without him. he tried to talk to you, but you were down the stairs before he could say hi.

he’s had enough. he needs to understand what he did. he needs to fix this. forget the crush, you’re one of his closest friends. he misses you.

-

you open your door after three knocks. you’re not sure who it could be. your parents aren’t exactly well liked around here, and you’d never invite someone over. peter is standing outside getting ready to knock again.

he lets his hand drop, clenching his jaw out of nerves. you only poke your head out. “um, hey.” his voice is soft, high. you squint at him in confusion. he takes that as his cue to keep talking. “i haven’t seen you in a while. thought i’d check in.” “yeah, i...” your eyes drop down to his feet. he’s shifting his weight. “i’ve been busy.” “everything okay over here?”

he thought maybe your parents got that divorce you were always suggesting. that would explain why you’ve been home more. you nod quickly. “it’s just me right now. i’ve been going to the library after school.” so, they didn’t. you’re just avoiding them and him. he tries not to sound hurt. “oh, okay. can i come in?”

peter can count on one hand the amount of times he’s been over. it was usually to pee or get a snack on your way up to his place. you’ve never spent much of your time here.

“uh, sure. they’ll be back soon, though.” you pull the door open fully, stepping aside so he can come in. you’re still not looking at him. “this won’t take long,” he tells you lowly.

you’re in your room. you on your bed, peter standing in front of you. you finally meet his eyes. they’re glossy. he wants to say something, blurt something out. you can tell. the longer you look at him, the closer he gets to coming out with it.

“i’m sorry, y/n. i put you in a weird place,” peter gets out, eyes pleading with you. you rub your arm distractedly. you don’t say anything. “i thought... i thought you liked me back.” shaking your head, you take in a breath. “it’s not about that, peter. i do.” “then what is it? what did i do?” he’s on the verge of tears. you can hear it in his voice, see it on his face. you have to look away again.

“nothing.” peter closes his eyes to keep the tears in. his lip quivers. “n- nothing? i don’t understand.” “what if...” you let out a shaky breath. “sit.” he takes the spot next to you. he’s not sure if you want him too close right now, so he leaves space between you two. “what if we do end up dating, and one day we break up?” you give him a knowing look. “i think that’s how relationships work,” he murmurs.

“but we’re different, peter. i’d... i’d have no where to go.” your voice gets quieter when you say the last part. he’s confused for a second, then he realizes what you’re talking about. he instantly grabs your hand. “you never have to worry about that. no matter what happens between us, you’ll still have me. may, too.” a hopeful smile pulls at your lips, but it doesn’t meet your eyes. you’re scared.

peter squeezes your hand once, then again when you turn away. he moves closer to you so your legs are touching. you need him. you drop his hand so you can wrap your arms around his neck. he holds you close, arms around you as tight as they can be.

“promise?” you whisper, your chin on his shoulder. he nods and pulls you into his chest. “i promise, y/n. i’m not going anywhere.”

-

four years later and he hasn’t broken it. you both stayed in the city for college, and now you’re moving in together. it’s your last year.

this wasn’t easy for you at first. you kept getting the urge to leave, to end things before they got messy. peter was patient. he reassured you whenever you had your doubts. he made sure to kiss you a little harder if you hadn’t seen each other for a while. he cuddled a little closer to you after the rare fights you had. you eventually started to believe it. peter loved you, and the bad days wouldn’t change that.

you’ve never felt more at home than in your cute little apartment on the upper east side. the two of you decorated it the way you’d imagined as kids when you played with barbies. only, your dream house was smaller. smaller, but definitely you and peter. may is your first guest. she brings you a cactus as a housewarming gift, which goes right by the front door. your friends and peter’s come over the next few weeks.

you don’t need to escape to peter’s place anymore, or spend every night listening to muffled yelling from your kitchen. you’re safe in his arms forever. he’s so happy he gets to hold you.

they say everyone needs a place to live, but love is what builds a home.

-

#tom holland #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine

[brockadoodles]

I’ll be the love of your life inside your head - b. boeser

AN:  hello. Guess I’m back. Just for writing though. So here’s a repost of my fave thing i’ve ever written. :) Check out the sequel after you read this one, Errant Storytelling by @hockeyboysiguess​ 

Pairing: brock boeser x female OC 

Word Count: 38,421

Warnings: LONG AF, swearing, drinking, mentions of sex, some angst. 

Early September was Brock’s favorite time of the year, with the team getting into the swing of training camp in preparation for the new season that was to come, he always felt like it was somewhat of a fresh start. He would return to Vancouver, most of his body tan and his nose slightly burnt from spending everyday back at home out on the lake or driving through the mountains in his Jeep, top down and dogs in tow. He spent most of his summer alone, finding comfort and solace in just him on the water, able to reflect about the various stressors that impacted his life for eight or so months of the year. He had even adopted a second dog, Milo, who had quickly fit right into his routine. 

The change from late summer to early Fall in Vancouver was beautiful, the weather was  comfortably cooling down, but the rain that plagued the city not yet setting in for the long grey season, one that had dubbed Vancouver as “raincouver” to those who lived there. He loved Minnesota, but as he spent more and more time in Vancouver, he quickly found himself settling into west coast habits, easing back into the season and his life there more quickly with each passing year. 

One thing that had become somewhat of a tradition since his rookie season, was a first night back type of gathering, almost always taking place at some dive bar on the edge of East Vancouver, where he and some of the guys could catch up before the real intensity of autumn kicked in. Petey was no doubt his best friend in BC. He was a year younger, coming onto the team the year following Brock’s own rookie one and he found himself taking Elias almost under his wing. When he first came to the team, he barely spoke any English, and while some of the other guys were welcoming, they didn’t quite have the patience to decipher Swedish like Brock did. So, Brock introduced himself and the two instantly clicked on and off the ice. Catching up with Petey after summer was something that he was looking forward to, now that Petey was no longer a rookie and had settled into life in Canada more. 

This September was no different, and Brock found himself sitting in the dark booth in the early evening at the latest dive bar, a place that Jake had sworn by for having the best selection of local brewed beers while he waited on Petey to arrive. The bar was too warm for the sweatshirt and backwards cap he had on even though the establishment itself was rather empty for a Friday night. He supposed that the term dive bar rang true and that this was the quant hole in the wall type place that they usually frequented for their annual return to Vancouver get together. 

He slowly ran his finger along the rim of his beer, it was some local IPA that the waitress had sworn on, a glint in her eye that Brock knew too well, yet actively ignored as he politely ordered the drink, sending her a soft smile to say thank you but imply that he wasn’t interested. He took a sip of the beer, biting his tongue slightly at the sensation of it. He set the cool glass back on the table, sighing softly while he pulled out his phone from his pocket, making note that the beer was hoppy and too bitter for his taste. He slid his fingers across the screen, opening up the unread message from the friend he was waiting for. 

Olive is always late. Be there soon. 

Brock frowned at the text from his friend and set his phone back down on the table. It wasn’t like Petey to be late to anything, in fact for someone who was as young as him, he was incredibly serious about anything he committed his time to. Petey was the type of person to show up ten minutes early and feel like he’s late, having one time nearly chewed Brock out for taking a wrong turn on the highway causing their tardiness at some inconsequential event that he couldn’t even remember the details of at this point. He very vaguely remembered the name Olive, Petey having mentioned something about his new friend he had made over the summer from staying in Vancouver. 

It took a few minutes of Brock tapping his fingers on the dark wood table, contemplating something trivial about his surroundings and the people coming into the bar before he saw Petey’s familiar blonde head of hair walking through the wood door. He looked at his friend and noted that he was slightly tanner than his usual ghostly shade, must have been from the endless amounts of time on the golf course with Chris Tanev, the teams’ unofficial dad for the younger guys. Brock slowly got out of the booth, ready to hug his friend when he saw the girl hanging from Petey’s arm, his breath catching in his throat and his mind blanking on how to properly function aside from standing there looking like a person who has just been read something in a language that they don’t even speak. 

Time felt fleeting as he watched her laugh at something Petey said, and for a moment he internally groaned with what most people would recognize as jealousy because he wanted to be the arm she was hanging from. Brock knew his friend hadn’t been interested in meeting anyone, and for a moment he almost wished he was because then he wouldn’t be physically so impacted by the presence of this girl he had no idea about other than her name being Olive and that she was always late and absolutely gorgeous.

Olive gripped Elias’s arm tighter as they crossed the threshold of the bar they were meeting someone at. She looked around and noted that everything seemed to be made of wood, the decor resembling some cheesy rendition of what people assumed things looked like in the Tudor times in England. Not that she was complaining, because any bar that had a Tudor theme was a bar that she could get along well with, plus Elias had said there was a great selection of IPA’s and a new person for her to meet, so she couldn’t be happier with how she was spending her Friday night. 

Olive was the type of person who most would assume spent her time with her head in her books, romanticizing the world around her. She permanently had her dark hair thrown into some tangled mess on her head, glasses usually residing on the bridge of her nose, and some variation of dark wash ripped jeans and a big knit sweater on. She was simple from a physical standpoint, most often never throwing on more than mascara and her favorite brick red lipstick for a night out. Yet from a philosophical standpoint, Olive was anything but simple. Her brain often worked in overdrive, causing her to need to write lists to herself about everything she needed to do, or thoughts that occurred to her throughout the day. She always kept a notebook in her bag, the same one, a dark navy blue and leather bound notebook with a dot grid on the pages inside, where lists and notes would be unkept and out of order to anyone that would look through its well used pages. It was almost impressive how often she was late, but she was always forgiven for it because she welcomed anyone she met with open arms and a deceitfully open heart. 

Olive spotted who she assumed to be Elias’s friend, Brock, slowly getting up from a dark wooden booth tucked away from the rest of the patrons. Her first thought was that he looked exactly what she imagined someone named Brock to look like, bright blonde hair underneath a backwards snapback, skin golden and a light stubble grazing his face. Something about his presence threw her off though, and she found herself calm as they walked up to him, laughing softly at Petey who cracked a joke about him wearing Birkenstocks to a bar. 

She walked right up to him with a wide smile on her face, sticking her hand out to shake his as Petey introduced them, with no indication that she realized Brock felt his heart lurch toward something that he had never felt the need to gravitate towards before. Olive stood there for a moment, time frozen as Brock slowly took her hand in his for the first time, knowing somewhere in his soul that he needed to know everything there was to know about the girl named after what was not quite a fruit and not quite a vegetable, that he normally didn’t even like in the first place. 

“Oh? IPA guy, huh?” Were the first words that slipped from her crimson red lips, a smirk evident on them. He looked down to the beer in his hand and internally panicked about a response to such a trivial question. Would this girl who he found himself fascinated by ruthlessly judge him for what she might think of as terrible taste in the third most common drink in the world? 

“Oh, yeah, uhm, they’re great.” Brock lied, bringing the far too hoppy tasting beer to his lips, forcing down a convincing enough sip to hope that she wouldn’t catch on to his distaste for the beverage. He didn’t quite understand why Olive approving of his beer choice was something that he felt the need to have, but if she loved IPA’s, he was going to have to get used to the taste. 

Brock was always welcoming to new people, and as he sat there in a booth listening to Olive tell him and Petey about her classes and latest book she was reading, he was patting himself on the back for saying yes to Petey inviting her. Olive was captivating as she animantly spoke about the things that were passions of hers. She talked loudly, and her hands were as equal parts of the conversation as her voice was and Brock was completely and undeniably hooked from the get go. 

Olive bounced up from the table, leaning her body over it so that she could speak to both of them and be heard. The crowd had picked up as the night went on, and now there were quite a few groups of people loudly chatting around them, music also adding to the noise. Brock looked at Olive as she smiled at him, his eyes trailing slightly down her body as she spoke. 

“Another round, boys?” She teased, turning her body quickly to walk off. 

Brock’s eyes involuntarily followed Olive after she excused herself to go grab another round for the table and he was so focussed on her retreating figure that it took Petey four times of saying his name before Brock snapped out of it.

“Oh? What?” Brock said, attempting to save whatever sense of pride he had left, but this was Petey that he was with, and Petey was nothing short of the reigning king of the ability to observe anyone who was around him. He recognized the look in Brock’s eyes, it was how a lot of people looked at Olive when they saw her, and while Petey knew that Brock’s intentions were nothing short of good, he also knew Olive and how she was when it came to relationships. 

“It’s not a good idea, Boes,” he nodded toward the bar, his eyes glancing over to Olive for a moment before returning to Brock. Brock sighed, hating that Petey not only knew him so well, but that he was in the situation to be so infatuated with this girl he hardly knew. Brock just shrugged, looking down at the patterns in the wood on the table while he hoped that his friend would just drop the subject.

“She’s not like you,” Petey continued, and Brock’s head slowly lifted up to question what his friend was trying to say to him.

“She is great, and I care about her a lot, but she isn’t capable of what you want.” Petey shrugged.

“What do you mean?” Brock frowned. Petey narrowed his eyes, contemplating the nicest way to say the next words that would come from his lips before Olive came back to the table.

“She doesn’t know how to give someone her heart, she won’t mean to do it, but she’ll hurt you.” 

Brock didn’t have time to respond, instead he sat there and soaked in Petey’s seemingly harsh words and he questioned if he had misjudged the girl who was now bouncing eagerly back to the table, effortlessly balancing three drinks in her hands. She set them down carefully on the table and nodded as she sat down in the booth, this time settling in right next to Brock. The three of them took sips of the new drinks as conversation continued, but all Brock could find himself focusing on was the sound of her voice and clove-like smell of her perfume as her body shifted closer to him. Those three drinks that they were consuming soon became three more, and then three more after that and so on until somehow Brock and Olive had ended up alone together with his hand on her thigh and her head resting in her hand as she looked up at him with lust in her eyes on the same side of the booth where Elias had left them after some girl had swept him away. 

Petey’s words didn’t matter all that much to Brock as he sat close to Olive and tried to get to know her as much as you could get to know anyone in this type of setting. He could tell that she was smart, and focussed on her studies, something that she was proud of that was another bullet to the list of things he found attractive about her. Her lipstick was slightly smudged as she laughed at a story Brock was telling, distracting him as he thought about leaning in closer and smudging it even more. Each laugh that came from her lips had Brock thinking to himself that the IPA that was so bitter before maybe wasn’t so bad after all. 

“Okay drunkie Ollie, time to get you water.” Brock teased, handing her a bottle of water that he had gotten from the bar. Olive just blinked at him, reaching out to grab the cold bottle from his hands. 

“Ollie?” She asked, tilting her head a bit at the nickname. 

“S’cute, like you.” He shrugged, a small smile on his lips as he watched her take in the words. Brock had been infatuated with Olive all night, to the point where he almost felt slightly annoyed at Petey for never introducing them. The pull between him and her was apparent, so much so that he found himself stealing glances with her all night, hoping that with each one he would see her beautiful crimson red smile that he had been growing so attached to in a matter of hours.

“You’re cute.” Olive said, reaching a hand up to his face, softly tapping her finger on his nose before cheekily pulling his cap off his head, tossing it onto her own. Brock ruffled a hand through his own hair, an attempt to make it less apparent that he had been wearing a hat for the last few hours, but finding no desire within himself to take the accessory back from Olive. Olive took a sip of her water, confidence pouring through her next moves as she rested her hand on his arm, fingers dancing slightly as she leaned into his ear. 

“I mean it, Boes.” She spoke lowly, breath fanning across his neck, so close that her lips almost touched his skin before pulling back, offering nothing but a sly smile as she walked over toward the bar to close her tab for the night as if she hadn’t just pulled his breath from his throat with four simple words. Brock caught her eye once more from across the bar, the flimsy strings that were pulling him toward her were strengthening, and he was finding himself grasping onto what were slowly becoming thick strands of rope between them, hoping that if he just shortened them enough, she could be his. 

Olive frowned when the bartender told her the tab had already been closed and pointed toward Brock when she asked who did it. She muttered a soft thank you and set some cash down on the bar for an extra tip before walking back to the boy in question, mentally flipping between whether or not she should argue with him about this or let it go because the gesture was nice and she could only assume he wasn’t hard pressed for money to pay a $70 bar tab. 

Brock smiled when she walked up to him and threw an arm quickly around her shoulder, mentioning that he had gotten a cab to take her home. She laughed a bit, making some joke about how he must not know what an Uber was being from rural Minnesota, something that he feigned offense to but laughed along with anyway. When the car pulled up, he opened the door for her and let her use his hand as balance while she stepped in. Part of her wanted to invite him in, to take him home with her and satisfy the new feeling from him that she found herself craving. But the last bit of responsibility in her left the words on the tip of her tongue, knowing that it could potentially put Elias in a weird spot if she were to ask him. So instead, she got into the cab alone, settling into her seat as Brock leaned down. 

Olive smiled as Brock leaned against the open door of the taxi, a smirk on his lips and pink from the alcohol they’d both consumed flushing his cheek. She felt a little lost in thought about the boy in front of her and how old fashioned it felt being in a cab when ridesharing was so common in the city. Nonetheless, she steadied her breathing as she tried to focus on anything but Brock’s soft smile that was starting to make her feel like she wanted that smile only for herself. 

Brock handed Olive his phone slowly, ignoring the look of the driver who was growing impatient for their nondescript moment to end. 

“Give me your number so I can make sure you get home safe,” Brock nodded toward Olive. He held the car door nervously under his hand as he analyzed her reaction to his request, hoping that he wasn’t coming across as some sleezy guy trying to take advantage of a girl in a drunken state. He hoped she could see that he genuinely wanted to know she was safe, and that Petey would have likely appreciated that Brock stepped in to make sure his friend got back to her apartment safely. 

Olive smirked, feigning confidence from her next few words as she slowly typed in her phone number, taking a risk with adding an emoji, a simple black heart next to her name. A bold choice wrapped up in such an inconsequential action. She sent herself a text, making sure to have his number as well, and only adding a secret heart of her own to the contact once the door was fully shut and the cab was pulling away from him. 

The promise went forgotten as Olive tumbled into her building that night, a soft thank you escaping her lips as she paid the driver and went into the brick building. She loved this building and had lived here for almost three years in the small studio facing the water. It was old, had a charming history from being built in 1902 and stood in stark contrast to the silver and shiny modern buildings that surrounded her in the city, signs of too much money flooding into the surroundings. She liked the old elevators that looked like the ones from the movie Titanic, the creaking of the wood floors as you walked by, and the design details that made her feel like she was in the Edwardian era. Modern felt cold, and Olive was anything but cold. 

She tossed her keys on the counter and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water before retreating to her bedroom. She slowly started peeling off her clothes from the night out that were starting to smell like one of those cigar smoke filled rooms that old men would go to in the early 1900’s to get away from their wives after supper, whiskey in their glasses and cards in their hands. She thought back to the evening, her mind drifting to a certain blonde that she hadn’t come there with, but who had left with dancing through her mind and she found herself wondering more about him as her eyes fluttered closed.   

Olive couldn’t have been asleep for more than twenty minutes before she heard the soft buzzing on her nightstand, peeling her eyes open to the soft light coming into her room from the phone that was ringing. Brock’s name flashing tauntingly across the screen as she struggled to adjust to the light as she clicked to answer his call.

“Hi.” She groaned, head still foggy from the alcohol and now the lack of sleep.

“Hey, sorry I just wanted to make sure you made it back alright,” Brock said, his voice quiet and not confident in the words he was saying. Olive smiled even though he couldn’t see it, her stomach doing flips as she thought about how no one had ever taken this much effort to make her feel wanted from knowing her in such a short time. The word to describe him immediately floated into her mind. 

“I’m here, Brock.” She responded, rubbing her eyelids softly before continuing.

“Benevolent: well meaning and kindly.” she added, sitting up slightly in her bed and biting her lip for his response. 

“What?” Brock laughed softly, unsure of how to react.

“That’s your word of the day, or night I suppose. You’re benevolent, Brock.” 

Brock took in what Olive had just said to him as he pulled the blanket closer to his chest and his phone nearer to his ear, hoping he had heard her right. Her not so subtle compliment causing redness to flood his cheeks noticeably even in the dark room he was in by himself. He stayed on the phone with Olive for a short while longer, continuing the conversation effortlessly as if they had been two people that knew each other for far more than just a few short hours on a Friday. When he fell asleep, her soft snores were still echoing through his phone against his ear, and he closed his eyes thinking about how he had never smiled more about a word he had just learned. 

--------------

The following weekend, Olive found herself walking down the aisles of the European grocery store with Elias that they both enjoyed so much. The Canucks were about to have a week-long home stretch which meant that at least once that week she would get to veg out with her best friend on his far too expensive couch and marinate in some of her favorite Swedish dishes that Elias liked to make. 

She meandered down the aisle, looking for the familiar packaging of a particular sauce he wanted her to grab. Her hair was messily braided down her back and her denim jacket was far too warm for the temperature of the store. 

“I meant to apologize for leaving you the other night. I know Brock helped you home,” Elias said. Olive jumped at the sound of his voice, bringing a hand to her chest momentarily while she turned to face her friend. 

“Oh it’s alright, speaking of Brock…” she trailed off, her eyes returning to the shelf. She picked up a package of what appeared to be some sort of gravy and started to read it, her eyes scanning over the words in Swedish as if she could even understand them. Elias scowled for a moment, watching his friend tense up at the mention of Brock, a clear indication she was nervous to bring him up. Her cheeks were starting to heat up as she intently focused on the writing he knew she couldn’t read. 

“No.” He shrugged, grabbing the package from her and putting it back on the shelf and replacing it with the correct one that they needed for dinner that night. 

“What? Does he have a girlfriend?” Olive asked, eyes widening slightly when she turned to face Elias. 

“No, but he’s too soft for you. You’ll crush him.” Olive frowned slightly at his words as she processed them. She knew she had trouble when it came to relationships, usually pulling away from the guys she was dating, finding some insignificant flaw in them before they could see all of hers, but she didn’t think she was mean, so to hear Elias imply that she was capable of hurting his friend stung. 

“Elias,” she tried to reason. Elias just sighed, annoyance dripping from his voice at the next few words he spoke.

“It’s not a good match, Olive. I don’t think he can handle all of you. He’d just break and you can’t break my best friend.” 

“Right,” Olive shoved past Elias, hurt written all over her face at his harsh words. Olive didn’t know how to react entirely to what he was saying, and part of her wanted to fight him on it, to argue that she wasn’t capable of hurting someone in that way. But the truth was, she probably had. Everyone is capable of unintentionally breaking someone’s heart, and Elias’s words pierced a hole in her chest. She couldn’t help but feel bad knowing that what someone who she considered as a best friend truly thought about her. 

As she was waiting in the checkout stand with Elias right behind her, her phone lit up with a text from the boy she had asked about just minutes prior.

You busy tomorrow morning? 

Olive glanced over at Elias, making her he couldn’t see over her shoulder to her phone. It was probably partially anger that fueled her reply to Brock, wanting to see him in spite of what Elias had said because maybe she could prove him wrong. But if she were to listen to the flutter in her stomach while reading that text she would have realized that her fingers moved across the keyboard at the command of her heart, which was already nestled lightly in Brock’s awaiting hands, even if neither of them were conscious of it. 

For you? Always free 😚 

She tucked her phone back into her bag and shook her head slightly, a small blush forming on her cheeks as she thought about him. She did her best to keep it at bay the rest of the night with Elias, not bringing him up again and certainly not telling him that she had planned to see Brock the next morning. 

The following day, Olive stood outside of Brock’s building nervously as she waited for him to come downstairs to get her. It was just after 9 in the morning and the chilly air had finally set into the city. She was wearing dark booties and jeans, with an oversized cream sweater tucked slightly into the front of them. Her hair was haphazardly thrown into a messy low bun, with strands framing her face. She felt that she looked casual yet cute enough that it looked like she put in effort. This was her first time seeing Brock since the night they met at the bar and while they had begun a regular stream of texting conversations in the short few weeks since then, she was incredibly nervous to actually spend time with him alone. There was an underlay of flirtation in their messages, and part of her felt guilty for being outside of his condo that morning after what Elias had said to her just the previous day. 

Brock came out the front door, spotting Olive instantly. He almost stopped walking as he took in her appearance, his mind stagnant as he combed through every variation of the word beautiful that he knew to describe her. When she noticed him walking up, she tucked her phone into her small black bag, smiling brightly at him with those same crimson red lips he had been thinking about for weeks now. 

“Hi,” She said as he wrapped an arm around her in greeting. She reacted quickly, snaking both of her arms around Brock’s torso for a moment to reciprocate the hug. 

“Are you okay with walking a bit?” Brock asked. Olive nodded and gestured in front of her, implying that he should lead the way. Brock adjusted the dark beanie on top of his head as they started down the street, Olive walking close enough to him that their arms would gently brush every few steps as the two of them settled into easy conversation for the short walk to where Brock was taking her. 

Olive started noticing more people as they got farther away from Brock’s condo, some with strollers and their kids, others walking their dogs with coffee in their hands. Most of them were carrying reusable bags with fresh produce sticking out. By the third block she realized where they were headed, forgetting that the farmer’s market was in full swing for Fall. She smiled a bit to herself, wondering if Brock was the type to come here alone or if he had just assumed correctly that it was the type of Sunday morning activity that she would enjoy. 

“I didn't peg you as a market kind of guy,” Olive laughed softly as they walked into the market. She stopped for a moment to look at one of the stands they were passing by, her eyes settling on the fresh bouquets of flowers that were arranged beautifully on the tables. The woman behind the stand said a friendly hello to her while telling her about the local nursery they owned, Olive nodding softly as the woman spoke. 

Brock’s eyes watched as hers drifted toward one specific arrangement. He picked it up as Olive chatted with the woman, a man walking over to him from behind the table who Brock could only assume was her husband based on the matching rings on their fingers. He looked over one last time at Olive, making sure that she was still engrossed in conversation as he paid for the bouquet of flowers for her, hoping that it wasn’t going to be crossing any sort of boundary between them. He thought back to what Petey had said to him the night they met as he rationalized that the flowers were simply a reason to hopefully make her smile. 

Olive turned as she finished up the conversation with the woman, stopping as she saw what Brock was holding out for her. She tentatively reached out, grabbing the bouquet of flowers in her hands and blushing slightly. She looked down at the arrangement of sunflowers and wildflowers in her hands, heart beating faster as she thought of something witty to say in the moment to save face from her now red cheeks.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to woo me, Brock Boeser,” She smirked, raising the flowers slightly toward him, a friendly banter in her voice. 

“That depends, Ollie, is it working?” he countered. Olive blushed in response, rolling her eyes slightly to try and keep the rhythm of her heart in check. She was standing on the shore dipping her toes into the water with Brock, all evidence pointing to the need of treading softly, but Olive Burke was never good at wading water, she needed to dive head first and swim. 

She didn’t answer him as the two of them continued to walk through the market, stopping occasionally to look at things, conversation picking back up between them like they didn’t just share what felt like to Olive as a moment of something more than could be described as just friendly. 

“So I have a confession to make,” Brock started as they walked up to the specific destination he had brought her here for in the first place. 

“And what might that be?” She smiled, placing one hand on her hip as the other held the flowers from earlier in the morning. 

“I really only come here for this specific tent,” he smiled, nodding up to the small coffee stand. 

“God, of course,” Olive laughed as they neared the front of the line, her stomach doing backflips at how charming he was without even trying. Of course Brock would only know about a farmers market for bagels and coffee, why should she have expected anything different?

“I actually found it my rookie year, back home there’s this small place near where I grew up. I remember being a kid and my brother, sister and I would always get bagels and hot chocolate on Sunday’s. So, when I was wandering around with Coolie after I adopted him and I found this place, it kind of felt like a comforting piece of home.” Brock recounted the memory to Olive. 

“The chive one is my personal favorite,” he smiled, his words lightening the tone of the conversation. He watched as Olive carefully scanned the menu, her dark eyes reading over each word from behind the glasses he liked her in so much. He felt a bit silly being so enamored by her essentially just standing there looking at a menu, and before he realized the potential consequences of his actions, he slipped his phone from his pocket and took a photo of her hands and the flowers, posting it to his Instagram story with a simple blue heart emoji. 

Brock was surprised at how comfortable he felt around Olive in terms of conversation. In just the short time that they had been here, he found himself sharing small details of his life that usually he wouldn’t have with girls who he hadn’t known very long. But with Olive something felt right. He wasn’t sure if it was because there was that knowledge in the back of his mind that Petey wouldn’t have been such good friends with someone who wasn’t a genuine person, or if it was his heart that was clouding his judgement as he shared almost intimate details of his life with her while they settled down onto a bench with their food. Brock wasn’t sure what all of this was, or if it could become anything despite Petey’s warnings, all he knew was that Olive Burke was fascinating, and he wanted to tumble into knowing all of her. 

They both walked slowly toward her car, nerves bubbling in Olive’s stomach as she wondered what all of this meant. She knew she was already stepping in too deep with Brock, knowingly going against Elias’s request when it came to his friend’s heart. But part of her didn’t care, Brock was calm, soothing, and in one short morning that felt like a better first date than she had ever been on, she wanted more. 

She stood nervously in front of her car, focussing her eyes and hands on the flowers that he had given her. She wasn’t sure where this would all lead, and for the first time she found herself hesitant about saying goodbye to him, her mind racing with questions about her next move. 

“Did you have a good time? Or am I as boring as Petey likely told you I am?” Brock asked, his eyes focusing on her. She looked up at him, his soft smile sending the butterflies that had been running rampant in her stomach into a flurry once again. 

“You’re not boring, Brock. You’re,” she paused, thinking of the word she wanted to say carefully. She smiled at him, matching his expression as she spoke, “amiable: having or displaying a friendly and pleasant manner.” 

Brock breathed a sigh of relief, her word for the day causing his nerves to sky rocket. Olive was on and off paper entirely too good for him, but the slight indication of affection she was showing in a simple word of the day toward him had him reaching out to give her a hug goodbye. Olive reacted quickly, wrapping her arms around him, carefully trying not to squish the flowers. They pulled apart and stuttered out slightly awkward goodbyes as Olive got in her car and watched Brock walk away, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. 

--------------

Brock tapped his fingers lightly on the steering wheel as he drove to practice a few mornings later, a subtle smile on his lips as the quiet sounds of his playlist echoed in his car. His almost date with Olive was still fresh in his mind. The two of them had spent almost the entire afternoon together, with albeit a somewhat awkward goodbye that was still circling in his mind. It wasn’t too bad though, as his days and nights had been filled with conversation from her, simple texts and late night phone calls as their connection started to grow. 

Brock felt quite literally on cloud nine as he skated out onto the ice, not thinking twice before heading up to Petey to start warming up. 

“Petey!” he called out, skating up to him. Elias turned his body away from Brock, ignoring his friend’s greeting and continuing to work on his shot. 

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t date my friend,” Petey said, shooting a puck harshly toward Jacob and then skating away, leaving Brock slightly out of it as he wound up for his own shot, one that got blocked by Jacob almost effortlessly. He couldn’t understand why his friend was being so cold toward him, he knew that Petey had warned him about Olive not being capable of opening her heart, but Brock was more than willing to accept and take on that risk. He didn’t understand why Petey didn’t seem to consider how he was feeling either. Brock didn’t respond as he skated off toward the bench to follow his friend and confront him about the almost outburst that had just happened on the ice. When he reached the bench, Petey just turned, skating back out and away from him like he was the last person he’d want to associate with. What was really getting to Brock about the entire situation was that he knew Petey was selective about his friends, he knew that he wouldn’t have invited someone who wasn’t genuine into their inner circle, so why was he so bothered by Olive and him being attracted to each other? 

“We’re not dating, petey. What are you even talking about?” Brock groaned, skating over to his friend, this time with Petey remaining in his spot for the next drill. 

“You took her on a date two days ago.” Elias grumbled, not looking Brock in the eye. Brock rolled his eyes slightly at his friend, failing to see what the big deal was when it came to hanging out with Olive.

“It wasn’t a date,” he argued, “How did you even find out about it? Do you have little scouts following her around to make sure she’s not seeing me?” 

Elias shot his head to face Brock, and deep scowl on his features. It was such a contrast to how Brock and Elias normally acted around each other. They were inseparable and never fought over anything serious. So as they stood there on the ice, the tension between them was obvious and their teammates were starting to pick up on it.

“Your Instagram is public and that picture was stupid.” Was all that Elias said before skating off once more, leaving Brock to remember that he did in fact post a photo to his story and maybe in hindsight it wasn’t his best post ever. 

Petey was cold toward Brock for the rest of practice, constantly shuffling the puck away from him in drills, not listening when Brock tried to communicate, so much so that the rest of the team started to notice. It wasn’t normal for Elias and Brock to not get along, and it was starting to hinder the rest of the group’s dynamic. 

Brock positioned himself in front of Jacob as Petey took his spot to start a tip in drill. The first few shots hit Brock’s stick so hard that he could feel the vibrations through his gloves. He was starting to get frustrated with Elias, finding his attitude and reaction to something that shouldn’t have even been a big deal a bit extreme. But if there was anything that he knew about his friend, it was that he could hold a grudge and was most certainly not afraid to show it, the only difference was Brock had never been on the receiving end of it.

Elias lined up at the blue line, slapping a wrist shot toward Brock. He watched as it hit Brock just above his knee. Brock fell to the ground, groaning loudly as he scrambled to get up, Jacob having to come up behind him to help him skate one legged back to the bench. Elias knew it was immature, but part of him didn’t feel entirely that bad for it. He of course wanted Brock to be okay, but he also wanted him to know that he was pissed, and if that realization had to come from a slapshot that Brock missed with his stick, well then that was the price he had to pay.

“You fucking did that on purpose!” Brock yelled as he passed Petey, his leg throbbing in pain as the trainer helped guide him off the ice. He was fuming at this point, Petey’s attitude starting to take its toll on his own, and the wrist shot sending pain shooting down his leg wasn’t helping to calm down the situation. 

“Yeah, well that’s karma for dating my best friend behind my back.” Petey shrugged. JT watched as Brock rolled his eyes at Petey, their little squabble audible for most of the team to hear. He skated up to his linemate, patting him quickly on the shoulder.

“Listen if anyone is gonna date your best friend, Brock isn’t a bad option. You know he’d treat her well. Don’t let this come between you guys.” JT tried to reason as best he could without getting in the middle of whatever was going on. Elias nodded, the words not fully absorbing in a rational way in his mind yet. Olive and Brock were his best friends, and while the idea of them dating was something that he should have been supportive of, he just couldn’t see it ending well and didn’t want either of them to be hurt. So instead of supporting it, he thought asking them not to would be enough to prevent it, but he didn’t know just how deep either of their hearts had already been invested into each other. 

Brock didn’t come back out for the rest of practice. Instead he sat in Petey’s stall with his leg elevated as he waited for the rest of the team to finish. He had an ice pack securely resting on his thigh as he ran through various versions of what he wanted to say to Petey when he came back. 

Elias walked into the dressing room, his eyes narrowing when he saw Brock sitting in his stall. He maneuvered around his friend, passive aggressively ignoring Brock each time he said his name.  

“What’s your fucking deal, Petey?” Brock asked as he sat, unmoving as Petey tried to work around him to hang his gear up in his stall. Elias shook his head as he sat down next to him and started untying his skates while Brock waited for a response. 

“You took her on a date,” Elias mumbled, annoyance clear in his tone. Brock rolled his eyes, wondering how he had even found out about his Sunday with Olive in the first place. 

“Oh my god, Petey. It wasn’t a date. We just hung out together. We literally walked around,” Brock tried to reason with his friend. He didn’t think it was fair that he had to justify spending time with Olive to Petey. If Petey didn’t want them getting along, why did he bring her to dive bar night in the first place? He knew they didn’t have any attraction to each other, Olive was most definitely not a bad person from what he had learned about her so far, so he couldn’t figure out why Elias was so stubborn about it all. Elias didn’t say anything in response as he packed his bag to leave, Brock growing more and more frustrated with his friend. 

“Well am I allowed to be her friend or is that too much for you to process?” Brock scowled, pulling his blue practice jersey over his head as he started getting himself ready to leave. 

“You can be friends, I just think if you date and break up it would mess with the group,” Petey shrugged curtley. Brock could tell that his friend didn’t want to broach the topic anymore, but he also realized that this seemed important to him, and he the last thing he wanted to do was put a girl above one of his best friends. Brock nodded at his friend and finished taking off his gear. When he was fully changed he pulled out his phone, noticing a text from Olive that had him second guessing his decision from just moments prior. 

Cognisant: having or showing knowledge or understanding or realization or perception.

Reminds me of Elias.  

Brock sighed at his phone and locked it, putting it back in his pocket along with Olive’s message. He was frustrated, partially at Elias for being so damn stubborn, but mostly he was frustrated with himself for not wanting to shake Olive from his thoughts. He wasn’t sure what would make him feel better at this point, but running head first into the boards was slowly starting to sound like an appropriate response to the copious amounts of thoughts and scenarios currently skating through his mind, each one a different outcome that disappointed a different person, usually himself.

It was only a few hours after Brock was nearly reprimanded by Petey for showing interest in his friend that Olive was frantically pacing around her living room, pulling her sweater sleeves over her hands as she heard the seemingly endless ring of her phone. She was starting to feel her hands shake each time she heard someone’s voicemail. After a few failed attempts at contacting almost everyone she knew who could provide her any sense of comfort, she opened her contacts and scrolled to the only B name in her phone, not hesitating to press the call button. 

Brock answered after one ring which was something that could not be said about the other people in her life currently. Olive breathed a sigh of relief, feeling her eyes well up with fresh tears when she heard his voice in her ear. 

“Hey, sorry I haven't messaged you back, I was at practice and got caught up. Are you calling to tell me another fancy word?” Brock joked over the phone, smiling softly to himself as he pictured Olive’s concentration face as she read and annotated her latest book, something that he had seen a handful of times since meeting her the previous month. Olive always brought her books with her, scattering them around any table that was in front of her. He knew most of her words for him had struck while she was mid-reading and he found himself infatuated with each one that she sent along to him. 

“I’m sorry I called, I just… my mom wasn’t answering, neither was Elias, and I-,” she cried into the phone, shaking her head slightly in regret for bothering Brock. He was clearly having a good day, based on the tenor of his voice. 

“Olive, you can call me anytime you need, please don’t apologize,” Brock said, his voice steady in Olive’s ear and offering her a sense of reassurance that she wasn’t a bother to him, something she so desperately needed to hear in that moment. 

“My dissertation got rejected, and not just rejected, like, they ripped me apart,��� Olive sniffled as she rubbed her temples. She wasn’t sure if Brock even knew what she was talking about, or if he would be able to console her in that moment. All she could think about were the harsh words of her advisor that afternoon telling her that she had to start her entire proposal from scratch, something that had taken her weeks to work through. 

Olive was the type of person to give her everything into her program, she was passionate and opinionated and not afraid to be assertive, so when she tried to do those things in her proposal that she was extremely proud of, she thought her advisors would appreciate the effort. It turns out, they did not appreciate anyone drifting from the classic narratives offered in literature, and she was expected to produce something to get her masters degree that was likely going to be a carbon copy of thousands of other works. She was devastated and didn’t feel like she had anyone to turn to as she waited for Brock to respond. 

“Are you home?” Was not the response that she had expected from the boy on the other end of the line, his voice hesitant and slow as he spoke. She nodded once, wiping her eyes with the stretched out now slightly damp sleeves of her sweater before answering him softly.

“Yeah, I just got here,” Olive whispered, fresh tears falling down her cheeks, hair even messier than it normally was from how much she had fussed with it in frustration. 

“I’ll be right there, okay? Do you want to keep talking while I drive?” He asked. Olive could hear him locking his door, keys slightly clinking together in his hands. 

“Can you tell me about your day, please? I just need to think about something else right now,” she responded. 

Brock launched into a recount of his day, telling her everything from practice, to his walk with the dogs. He didn’t miss any minute details, except for the chunk of practice where Petey had given him a temporary but large bruise, and she found her tears slowly drying up as she laid on her couch listening to him talk. Brock’s voice was soft, calming, and when he laughed telling her about some inconsequential event that had occurred at practice, it was hard for her not to smile. She didn’t realize how calm she had become from just his voice until she heard him saying her name a few times, awakening her from her slight daydream of him.

“Olive?” Brock laughed, he was standing outside of her building, that deep red brick building that he had heard her describe so many times, the ivy that usually adorned it was just vines, leaves having already fallen off for the upcoming winter. 

“Mhm?” She answered. 

“Can you buzz me in?” Olive smiled at his words, getting up to tap on the button that would unlock the door for him. It was only then that she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she set her phone down, waiting for Brock to make the short journey upstairs to her unit. She stepped closer to the mirror, sighing softly at her red cheeks and her dark eyes were still slightly red and watery from the crying. Her sweater was wrinkled and the sleeves were slightly stretched from pulling them to wipe her eyes. The tall socks she was wearing were completely mismatched, one grey and one blue and black striped. Her hair looked more like a birds nest than it usually did, and she knew she didn’t have time to make herself look more presentable before she heard his footsteps in the hallway and three soft knocks on her door. 

As soon as Olive opened the door, Brock pulled her into his arms. He slipped one hand just underneath her sweater, resting at the curve of her back to push her flush against him. His other arm wrapped around her shoulders, bringing his hand to the nape of her neck, holding her in his chest as he pressed a light kiss to her forehead, something that both calmed Olive and made her nervous at the same time. They stood there in the doorway for a moment as Olive wrapped her arms around Brock’s body, steadying herself from the waves that had been crashing into her all day, feeling safe and finally not seasick for the first time being there with him. 

Brock slowly walked forward into Olive’s small apartment as he held her. He could tell by her voice earlier on the phone that she was upset, but when he saw her he knew the extent of what upset to Olive actually meant. He looked around quickly at her apartment, scanning the room and taking in how much it looked like an extension of her. He could see a small wooden table by the kitchen window, books and pens scattered on top of it, a cup of coffee that he assumed was from that morning left behind and cold. She had lots of artwork up, various prints and drawings in simple frames scattered around her walls. Next to the velvet couch, there was a small potted tree that had the faintest white lights on it. He noticed that there were more papers and books on the coffee table, Olive’s signature navy blue notebook resting on top of them, sticky notes sticking from the edges. 

He reached his hands down to Olive’s hips, tapping them gently to guide her to sit on the small island that was in her kitchen. He rested his hands on her thighs, pressing soothing circles into the tops of her soft black leggings, her mismatched sock covered feet dangling from the counter. He looked at her, seeing another side of Olive that he had never been met with before. The Olive that she let him see was loud, always confident in her words and feelings, and who almost always had a smile on her face. The Olive in front of him looked tired, a broken down version of herself, and while she was still the most beautiful person he thought he had ever stood in front of, it reminded him that even the most independent, strong people sometimes fall down too.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Brock asked as he gripped Olive’s thigh a bit tighter. He was trying to show her that he was there, that in this wild, chaotic mess that was clearly storming through her mind, he was the boat that was there to keep her steady and get her back to shore safely. 

Olive shook her head slightly, wrapping her arms around Brock once more. He was wearing a soft dark hoodie and smelled like cinnamon. When she looked down his legs she noticed the slippers on his feet, her heart fluttering steadily at the idea of Brock leaving so quickly to come be with her that all he threw on were his old grandpa slippers. She squeezed his sides softly, pulling back from him to look in his eyes, finding nothing but comfort in them. Brock was standing there and all she could think about was how his presence felt like a Sunday afternoon, when you’ve come home from brunch and wrap yourself in a warm, thick blanket, secure and full, emotions that she didn’t understand why she was feeling for someone who up until recently had just been Elias’s friend Brock to her.  

Olive did her best to plaster on what was left of her to offer him a smile as she fixed the dark rimmed glasses on her nose and looked up at Brock as she held his waist. For a moment she found herself daydreaming again in front of him, admitting to herself that if Brock wanted to lean down and kiss her, she would be a willing participant. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, something that seemed to happen quite often around him, so she hopped off the counter and went toward the stove, distracting herself in a way that would hopefully rid her of the daydreams about Brock.

Brock watched Olive carefully as she wandered through the kitchen, pulling out a pan and various items from her fridge. He noticed that her eyes looked less puffy than they had when he first walked in, and her smile was subtle but slowly coming back to her face as she grabbed a bottle of wine from the shelf and two wine glasses to go with it. She gestured to the glass as she poured and he nodded in confirmation. Brock had never cared for wine, but for her he would take in the notes of the dark liquid, pretending he didn’t think about how the color resembled that of her lips. 

“Assuagement: the feelings that comes when something burdensome is removed or reduced,” Olive spoke as she handed him the glass of wine, raising her own to his glass in a small toast. Brock felt a sense of relief at Olive’s latest word of the day for him, understanding what she was trying to say he had done for her without actually saying it. 

Brock looked at Olive in a way that he had never looked at anyone else before, and in another world maybe he would have been able to act on it without Petey’s stupid rule giving him a guilty conscious over the thoughts he was having about pressing her body against the counter and kissing her. But he knew that even if he could, in this moment where Olive was now dancing in her kitchen, laughter filling his ears while she cooked, he would have been taking advantage. Olive had shown him part of her personality that she kept hidden from most people, sharing a vulnerable side to the pressures she faced every day, and while she was laughing with him now, all he wanted her to know was that he could see her and that he cared about her more than a stolen kiss on a Monday evening would have been. Olive deserved more than that, and even if it killed him, he would wait as long as it took to be right for them. 

Olive fell asleep that night in a wine drunken haze, half curled up on her couch with Brock’s body flush behind her. His hand was running through the ends of her hair that she had finally let down in front of him, easing her of the headache that had accumulated partially from the crying but largely from the wine. She wasn’t sure what time it was when Brock nudged her softly, helping her into bed before he pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering that he would let her know when he got back home that night and a sticky note on the table by her bed with the words “you’re amazing” written in his terrible handwriting for her to wake up to. In another scenario, she would have been brave enough to ask him to stay.  

--------------

By mid-October, things had started to shift not only in the now cold and constantly cloudy Vancouver weather, but between everyone. Olive and Brock had only drifted closer, their feelings for each other tethering over the edge of too much in late night phone calls from Brock in the hotel hallway to keep from Elias hearing them, both of them knowing that things were progressing toward something more but not having quite enough courage to admit it to each other let alone the obstacle standing in their way, Elias. Olive had tried to maintain as much normalcy with Elias as she could. They still had their Tuesday night hangouts when his game schedule allowed it, and she rarely mentioned her growing friendship with Brock unless Elias brought him up. Everything was clicking into a dangerous place, with secrets developing between friends who never had them to begin with. 

The season had just started, and the schedule had been packed enough that Thanksgiving had come and gone, it now being closer to Halloween. Olive was absolutely horrified when Elias told her what they normally do for Candian Thanksgiving, which was apparently ordering takeout and drinking shitty beer. Thanksgiving was Olive’s favorite holiday and it was astonishing to her that anyone would willingly choose to not celebrate with home cooked food and a $5 bottle of red wine. Although luckily this time Elias had provided the refreshments for the evening, contributing his kitchen as a workspace and six bottles of champagne that likely cost more than her rent. 

But if there was one thing that Olive had insisted since meeting Elias all those months ago, it was that she was going to treat him to a Canadian Thanksgiving, even if it had to take place after the actual holiday. So, she looked at his schedule and nailed down a date and invited herself to use his gorgeous NHL player salary kitchen and made him invite the rest of the guys for an after the fact Thanksgiving. If she was going to educate Elias on the importance of mashed potatoes and roasted turkey, she was going to do it right, making sure that it was from a kitchen that had adequate counter space, for a group of people who could actually eat the amount of food she was making, and to spend some quality time with her growing group of friends. 

Olive tapped her hand impatiently on Elias’s door. It was only 11, but she already was running almost an hour late so she knew Elias should have been up and ready to help her with the preparations. Elias answered the door, his hair slightly messy and his glasses covering his eyes. Olive looked him up and down quickly before folding her hands across her chest.

“You clearly need to wake yourself up, so here’s my keys, go grab the rest of the groceries while I start,” she demanded. Olive brushed past Elias while he groaned softly and put on his slides, grunting as he closed the door behind him while he went toward the garage in his building. He loved Olive, but she was too loud for his mind sometimes, and he was beginning to dread the whole Thanksgiving experience that she had been so adamant about having for everyone. 

When he came back, he saw that Olive had already taken over the kitchen. There were pots and pans everywhere that he wasn’t even sure how she found, considering he didn’t even know he had them and she had taken off her jacket and had the sleeves of her Canucks sweatshirt that he didn’t even realize she had borrowed from him pushed up her arms. Elias set the bags on the counter and began unpacking them slowly while Olive continued to arrange various items on the counter. As he picked up the champagne bottles to put them in the fridge, he noticed the back of the sweatshirt, Boeser written in bold white font staring him right in the face. He froze as he looked over the name, nearly dropping the champagne when Olive turned to face him. 

“Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?” She laughed, grabbing the glass bottle from his hands and putting it into the fridge herself. 

“Why do you have Brock’s sweatshirt on?” Elias countered. Olive didn’t miss a beat as she came up with an excuse as to why she was wearing his sweatshirt, not wanting to tell him that he had left it at her apartment after spending the night there the week prior when they had gotten back from a particularly bad road trip and he needed a friend. 

“Oh, his normal dog person had to miss a day when you guys were gone so I went over to feed them and when I was leaving it started raining and he said to just grab something. I only wore it so I’d remember to give it back tonight, I have other clothes to change into for when everyone starts showing up,” she shrugged, almost surprising herself at how easily the lie slipped out from her lips. Olive hated lying to him, she hated not being able to tell her best friend that something as simple as wearing Brock’s sweatshirt sent butterflies swarming in her stomach, that the worn fabric with his name on the back made her feel safe and secure. But she knew how Elias felt about the idea of them, and while there were obvious feelings developing on both ends, she knew that until there was truly something to share, she shouldn’t tell him the truth about why she had the sweatshirt. 

Elias didn’t answer her, instead he finished laying out the various groceries until she shooed him out of the kitchen and into his own thoughts. He felt like something was off from her explanation, but he tried to shove it off as he went through the rest of his day. He took a shower and settled into the living room, popping back into the kitchen when it was nearing 5. 

“Elias, if you’re not going to help me peel these, you’re free to go back into the living room,” Olive scolded Elias jokingly. She had a bowl of potatoes and carrots in front of her, washed and ready to be prepared as one of the many dishes she was making for herself, Elias, and some of the other Canucks boys that would be coming over later. 

“No, I can help, it’s almost 5 and you need to shower you smell,” Elias smirked as he grabbed the peeler from Olive’s hands. She looked at the clock, noticing that there was only about an hour and a half left on the Turkey that was roasting in the oven. She looked over at Elias, who was holding the peeler backwards looking absolutely lost as he tried to figure out what to do with it. She sighed as she took it from his hands and turned it around, motioning how to correctly hold the small tool. Elias may have been smart when it came to playing hockey, but when it came to essential kitchen tasks he was certainly nowhere near being functional. 

“Can you handle doing this while I shower and get ready? All you have to do is peel them and put them into boiling water and set a timer. I’ll be done by then,” Olive asked, worry in her voice. Elias nodded at her, a smirk present on his lips as he spoke,

“Yes, stinky, go shower I can do it.” He said. Olive rolled her eyes and retreated toward his bathroom, grabbing her bag that she had brought with all of her things to get ready with her. 

As Olive got ready she could hear people starting to trickle into Elias’s apartment. She couldn’t help but listen in as she heard the voice she had been excited about hearing all afternoon. 

“Where’s Ollie-pop?” Brock said, his voice was a bit muffled from being a wall over from where she was doing her makeup. 

“Don’t call her that, it’s stupid.” She heard Elias reply followed by Brock laughing, their voices melting out of earshot as she assumed they went to the kitchen. 

She looked in the mirror and pulled a few strands of hair out of her braid to let them frame her face. She fussed around a bit, swiping on her dark red lipstick slowly as her stomach filled with nerves while more voices that she recognized started filling the room. She knew why she was so nervous, and it had to do with a certain blonde boy whose laugh she kept hearing as she slowly got dressed in Elias’s room. She took a big breath, dusting her hands off on her skirt before putting on a brave face and leaving Elias’s room. 

Olive panicked a little seeing all of the boys and a few of their girlfriends scattered around the room, champagne in their hands and indistinct chatter filling her ears. Brock noticed her first, he always did when she was in the room, and he got up to walk toward her. Olive froze as Brock stepped in front of her and handed her a glass of much needed champagne, a soft smile on his lips that was nearly torturous for her to look at without thinking about kissing him. She took a generous sip of the champagne, watching as his smile turned into a smirk sent in her direction. She could lie to Elias, she could maybe even put on a show for everybody else and pretend like her heart wasn’t leaping into Brock’s hands, but she couldn’t lie to herself anymore about how she truly felt, and that was what terrified her as she stood in front of him. 

“I know Petey is terrible in the kitchen but wow was he that bad?” Brock teased as Olive finished the glass of champagne he handed her. He tried not to let his mind wander and focus on the red imprint her lips made on the champagne flute and what that did to him. Olive simply shrugged and traded the glass with his nearly full one, drinking down the light colored liquid from that while he let his eyes travel down her body. She was wearing a black knit sweater with the front tucked into olive green shorts, a gold belt buckle slightly visible. Her legs were covered in sheer black tights and she had no shoes on. Brock tried not to let himself think about how it all would look in a pile on his bedroom floor. 

“Hey handsome, I’d love to stay and chat but if anyone wants to eat I need to force Elias out of the kitchen,” Olive said. She shook her head at herself, wondering how she let that come out and tried to ignore the fact that Quinn was staring at her as she walked past a now blushing Brock. When she was out of earshot, Quinn patted Brock on the shoulder, laughing as he spoke, 

“Hey handsome, you should probably stop drooling over Olive before Petey notices.” Brock rolled his eyes and ignored his now snickering friend as he ran a hand through his hair, the compliment ringing in his ears. 

Both Olive and Brock spent the rest of dinner drinking probably too much champagne than was acceptable at Thanksgiving. But neither of them cared as they downed each glass, desperately trying to escape their own mutual feelings to keep the growing tension away from the presence of their friends. Brock spent all of dinner almost putting his hand on Olive’s thigh under the table, wanting to reassure her that he was there and wasn’t going anywhere no matter what anyone thought. Olive spent all of dinner pretending not to notice Brock’s hand moving toward her every so often, or his soft eyes when he looked at her while she was speaking. If you held her down and told her to recount what anyone else had said that night, she wouldn’t be able to do it because all that was being written on the sticky notes in her head was how much she adored the boy sitting next to her and the constant reminder that they had to be kept apart. 

Olive excused herself to the kitchen, using the excuse of  grabbing another bottle for the table, but really she just needed a moment to herself away from Brock to catch her short breath. She didn’t have long to regain her composure before Brock walked into the kitchen. Olive tried to suppress the way her eyes looked him up and down, the alcohol clouding her judgement as she looked at his beige sweater and dark jeans that were just tight enough on him to send her into overdrive while she thought about what it would be like to peel them off of him. Brock on the other hand took a step closer to the girl he had spent the entire night thinking about, the alcohol clouding his judgement with a burst of confidence and a newfound appreciation for the thrill of potentially getting caught in a compromising position in Petey’s kitchen.  

“You look absolutely fucking gorgeous tonight,” Brock smirked, resting both of his hands on either side of Olive as her back was pressed lightly against the counter. They had both had a bit too much to drink, and Brock wasn’t blind to the lingering looks they had been catching each other in from across the room all night. 

Olive put one hand on his chest, her dark painted nails a contrast to his light beige sweater. He smirked down at her, noticing the blush rising to her cheeks, matching that signature red lip that he currently was dying to smudge. He reached a hand down to the waistband of her olive green shorts, the black sweater she was wearing tucked in lightly in the front, and sheer tights covering the rest of her legs driving him wild. 

“I like these, especially,” He smirked at her, the champagne providing him the confidence to give such compliments in Petey’s kitchen with everyone just a few feet away, laughter muffled through the walls. He always thought Olive was gorgeous, but something about seeing her so happy amongst all of their friends had his mind reeling all night, and the alcohol was doing nothing to calm his feelings about her down. 

“Oh yeah?” Olive smiled as she wrapped a hand around the base of his neck, tugging lightly on the ends of his blonde hair and watching as his eyes turned a darker shade as he looked at her. Brock was warm, the kitchen was warm, and her heart felt warm as they shared this not so innocent moment that seemed like it was long overdue, despite having known each other just a few weeks. Olive felt a comfort with Brock that she didn’t quite understand yet. She wasn’t able to confront her feelings in a meaningful way, instead she settled for finding any and all words that reminded her of him, scribbling them down not too neatly to save for him on pale pink post-it notes stuck amongst various pages of her navy blue notebook, never far from her person or heart. Just as quickly as his warmth was enveloping her, it went away as Brock pulled back and ran a hand nervously though his hair, a slight cough coming from his chest as she looked past him and was met with the curious eye of Elias who had walked in holding two empty bottles of the very wine that had gotten them into this mess. 

“Brock I think Quinn needs you,” Elias grumbled, setting the champagne bottles in his recycling bin with a crash that was so loud it was almost impossible for Olive or Brock to ignore the not so subtle shift in his mood. Brock raised his brow at Olive, silently asking if she was alright before she nodded in response, waiving him off with her hand, the dainty bracelets on her wrist clanking together softly as she moved. 

Elias watched closely as Brock left the kitchen and was out of earshot and he turned his body to face his friend. He slowly moved over to the sink, rinsing off a couple of the plates that had occupied the stainless steel space, the tension in the air between them was enough to nearly sober Olive up, her intentions with Brock quickly dissipating under Elias’s intense stare. She could almost feel the disappointment radiating off of him as she waited for him to speak. 

“Stop flirting with Boes,” was all he managed, his voice curt and short in the usual Elias way but with an undertone of annoyance coming from him. Olive was a bit surprised by his words, knowing that Elias had never expressed interest in her let alone anyone for anything that could amount to something long-term, so she wasn’t sure if this was jealousy he was exhibiting or something else. She sighed softly, readjusting her sweater and brushing some of her hair that had fallen into her eyes out of them. 

“I’m not,” She argued back and it wasn’t clear who she was trying to convince more, Elias or herself, because if she were to think back to the moment before Elias walked in, who’s to say that it wouldn’t have ended in a kiss that had been on her mind since Brock had walked into her life that night at the bar. 

“I just think there needs to be a boundary,” Elias shrugged once more and Olive found herself growing irritable at his dismissive tone. As far as she was concerned, her and Brock were both adults and while Elias may have been the common denominator between them, he had no right to dictate what type of relationship that would develop between them. 

“Boundaries?” She scoffed, walking across the kitchen to grab his arm, forcing him to look her in the eyes and say what he meant. Elias frowned at his friend, but held firm in his requests as he gently lifted her fingers from his wrist.

“It would bother me if you and Brock were together,” was all he said as he turned off the running water and went to exit the kitchen, leaving Olive standing there to relish in her own thoughts. She did her best to distance herself from Brock for the remainder of the night, trying to remain calm and collected as she hugged him quickly goodbye while Elias’s eyes hovered on the two of them from across the room. She sighed as he walked out the door, almost regretting the mess she was so willingly getting herself into.  

The awkward goodbye from Thanksgiving didn’t last that long, as Olive found herself falling figuratively right back into Brock’s arms. She had been spending copious amounts of time at his condo, sometimes staying there while he was away for games and watching his dogs. She felt comfortable when it was just them, their friendship steadily progressing when they were able to be alone with each other. The problem was that they both knew it wasn’t just a friendship that had sparked between them, there was something more pulling them together and it was evident in how they spoke to each other, and how they touched each other more than anyone who could be just friends would. When they were alone she didn’t think about it being a secret, she was comfortable with Brock. 

When they were with Elias, they slipped into another type of friendship, one that felt entirely wrong for how close they were. Brock hated lying to his best friend and there were so many instances where he would almost tell Petey just how much he liked Olive, but then he would remember that bruise from what was now months prior and he would freeze, letting the words hang in the air without ever getting them out. When Elias made his mind up about something, that was it, and part of Brock was beginning to accept that anything with Olive had to be just between them even if it hurt in the long run. 

--------------

It was now late November and Olive was comfortably maneuvering her body around Brock’s kitchen, wearing his sweatshirt, her overnight bag sitting inconspicuously out of the room on his bed. If any outside person were to be watching, this was a comfortable couple in an established relationship, spending their night together. Sometimes for Olive it truly felt that way, and while nothing physical between them had occurred past some inarguably too intimate cuddling while they slept, she wanted it to be true. She wanted all of his nights and mornings, she wanted to kiss him and hold his hand in public, she wanted to tell Elias that she had completely fallen for his best friend and have him accept and support it. But that wasn’t the scenario, and instead she settled for the almost that she could share with Brock, investing her heart even further into something that might never actually happen. 

Brock leaned his back against the counter, taking a sip of his beer and watching Olive as she started adding in various spices. Brock was by no means a chef, let alone anything close to an average cook. His expertise rested in baked chicken and steamed vegetables, and olive chastised him when she arrived with groceries and found out he didn’t have any spices to use until she dragged him to the store and made him stockpile all of the seasoning that he could only imagine how to use. There was something about olive standing in his kitchen that for the first time made his place feel like a home. He let his mind drift so far as to think about her there all the time, an image that left him nearly chugging the rest of his liquid courage and walking up behind her at the stove. He reached his hand to her waist, letting it settle there for balance as he wrapped his other arm around to pick up the spoon and take a bite of the soup she was making. 

“Brock Boeser! Stop it, it’s not ready yet!” She shrieked, swatting his hand away softly. He knew she wasn’t truly upset, her laugh echoing softly after. Brock rested his chin on her shoulder as he mindlessly traced his fingertips along her waist. He felt his mind shift back into a trance of what domesticity with Olive would look like, and he had to keep focusing on the fact that it wasn’t real or he would have kissed her by now. 

Olive relaxed slightly into his arms, momentarily forgetting about the circumstances and reaching her arm up to thread her fingers through his hair. She was stuck in the moment, her mind racing and completely forgetting about the reality of Brock not actually being hers to take. She almost felt like she was out of her own body watching herself as she turned her head back to face him, using her hand to softly glide him down toward her. She watched as his eyes fluttered shut and his hand gripped her waist tighter, their lips almost touching. Her lips touched the corner of his mouth and it snapped her out of the daze she was in, with her jumping away from him and catching her breath, cheeks red and heart pounding.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“ she struggled to find the words, raising a hand to her chest with the hopes that it would somehow calm the rapidness of her heart. All Brock did was smile, his calm demeanor never falling despite his insides scrambling at the fact that Olive practically kisses him. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, taking a step closer to her and kissing her forehead softly, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary until Olive relaxed into him, slowly wrapping her arms around his waist and putting her head in his chest. She was trying not to let herself get carried away by the intimacy of the moment or his heartbeat pounding nearly as fast as hers in his chest.

“Uhm, right,” She frowned, heart still racing as she backed away from him and focussed her attention back on the soup. She could feel her cheeks becoming hotter as she felt embarrassment flood through her body at what just happened. She wasn’t sure what was more embarrassing, almost kissing Brock and missing, or having to hear him brush it off like it wasn’t a big deal. For the most part, Olive always felt that Brock and her were on the same page, the sticky note with the words for him sitting comfortably next to her own. She thought back to Thanksgiving and how she was so sure he was going to kiss her until Elias walked in and he didn’t, the same feeling of disappointment that filled her then was creeping up once again.  

Brock didn’t miss a beat as he kissed her cheek once more, his hand settling back onto her hip as if it perfectly fit there. He shifted into conversation, effortlessly pulling Olive back out from her own head in the most reassuring of ways. She focussed on the soup in front of her on the stove instead of the moment that they almost shared because if she thought about it too hard, she might do something really stupid and kiss him again, this time not missing the target. 

By mid December, Brock had spent most of his rare days off preparing for the holidays. His family was coming out to Vancouver this time around because with the Canucks schedule this year, it would give them the ability to spend more than a few days together. Brock normally loved going home for Christmas, he loved spending time back at home, finding comfort in the harsh Minnesota winters that most people from there dreaded. But he didn’t mind the change this year, because it meant more time with his family and he had planned a surprise for his dad to come to see one of his games just after Christmas. So, to prepare for the momentous holiday that was Christmas with the Boeser’s, he tried his best to emulate the tree and decorations from home, filling his call log with facetime calls to both his mom and brother trying his best to get it absolutely right. 

After about an hour of trying to untangle the Christmas lights that were tossed carelessly in a storage bin he didn’t realize he even had, he felt his frustration growing. He just wanted everything to go smoothly for everyone, but reality slapped him in the face with the realization that while he may have appeared to be an adult, he absolutely would not know how to host anything let alone Christmas if he couldn’t even untangle lights. He was supposed to see Olive later that night, wanting to take her to dinner in celebration of her new dissertation proposal being approved, but now he was questioning whether or not he would even have the time to. Just as he was picking up his phone, the girl in question was calling, a photo of her sleeping with Coolie on her lap lighting up his screen and making him smile softly. 

“Hey Ollie,” Brock sighed into the phone as he stood up. 

“Okay, what’s wrong,” Olive laughed, not meaning to make fun of Brock but noticing immediately the melancholiness that he was hiding in his voice.

“If I tell you, you can’t laugh at me,” Brock joked, switching the call to FaceTime so that he could see her. Olive smiled at him through the screen, her messy bun sitting almost perfectly on top of her head and her glasses pushed up on her forehead. He couldn’t help but notice that she was wearing his old sweatshirt, the one that she had brought to Thanksgiving but never actually gave back. Seeing her in his clothes was almost like he had a piece of her, something that he knew he wanted. Olive rolled her eyes slightly, a teasing smile on her red lips as she urged him to continue. All Brock did was show her the mess he had made on the floor. When he flipped the camera back to him he could see that she was walking, and he heard keys jingling in her hands as she moved around her apartment. 

“Senseless: Lacking common sense,” she teased as she struggled to lock her door one handed, adding, “I’ll tell you what, I will forgive you for obviously not being able to take me out to a fancy restaurant in Yaletown tonight to celebrate my dissertation if, and only if there is Greek food on the way to your place by the time I get there and you get those horrendous lights somewhere that I will not ever see them.” 

“Deal, babe,” Brock laughed, already moving to throw the tangled lights back into the bin that they came from.    

When Olive showed up at his apartment 30 minutes later complaining about the traffic, he already had Greek food as promised from her favorite place sitting on the counter waiting for her. She walked in, wearing his old sweatshirt and a pair of grey leggings, hair up as always and even in her relaxed state he thought she was the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen. 

“God, what did I ever do to deserve you, Brock Boeser?” Olive moaned as she pulled herself from his arms and started opening the bag, the delightful smells filling the air around them as she handed him a container. 

“Careful, you might regret that statement when you start helping me decorate,” He said as he took the container from her hands, letting his fingers brush hers gently. 

“I get you, Christmas decorations, and Greek food, nothing could ever be better than that, Brockadoodle,” She smiled and Brock nearly melted into a puddle on the floor, the stupid nickname toasting his heart each time she said it. Olive was so different from him in so many ways, she was smarter, louder, and more sure of herself than he ever was or had been. But his favorite thing was that he no longer could count on one hand the things he was starting to love about her, he found himself studying the small mannerisms that you don’t notice about a person until you’re falling in love, and while there was still a metaphorical fence separating the two of them, he was already building an arsenal of tools to start tearing it down. 

The two of them decorated for hours, laughter and distractions coming between them as the sun went down and the city lights illuminated through the room from the floor to ceiling windows in his living room. Olive let out a satisfied sigh as she flicked off the living room light, letting the white Christmas lights sparkle around the room. The moment felt almost too domestic, especially when Brock came up behind her and wrapped his arms around the middle of her, pressing a soft kiss onto her shoulder and muttering a soft thank you to her. She placed her hands over his and patted them lightly, her smile growing along with the butterflies that he always seemed to put into her stomach. 

“They’re going to love it,” she whispered, her heart heavy with the realization that this wasn’t for her, this wasn’t a Christmas that they were spending together, because they weren’t together. Olive slipped from his arms and went over to the couch, settling in next to Milo who was currently sleeping. She shook any heaviness from her heart as she patted the spot next to her and Brock walked over. 

“Are you staying tonight?” He asked, hopeful that the answer was yes. 

“Mhm,” Olive nodded, pulling the blanket over both of their laps and settling back into his arms while he turned on the TV. She snuggled closer to him, resting her hand on his thigh underneath the blanket as she curled her legs behind her and let her eyes close. 

“Enrapture: give intense joy to,” She smiled into his side as she gave him another word for how he made her feel. The words written in her notes slowly become variations and synonyms for the same concept, her falling in love with Brock. It was the only way she knew how to express it to him, giving him subtle hints of it as she drifted asleep, knowing that with the three squeezes he gave to her hand that he felt the same. 

--------------

A few days later, Brock found himself bickering with Petey as he tried to get the last bit of his Christmas shopping done before the team went on a road trip, coming back just the day before Brock’s whole family came into town.

Brock opened the door to the old bookshop and held it as Petey walked in, the scent of old books lingering in the air. He had been hunting for a first edition copy of Jane Eyre, Olive’s favorite book for weeks. He had sent countless emails to various shops around Vancouver and Victoria, and made several phone calls inquiring about the book before he found this shop, a quaint small family run bookstore on Vancouver Island. When he got the email from the owner saying that they had one copy he was already out with Petey, having no choice but to bring him along or risk the one present that had been the most important for him to find being gone by the time he could come back. So, he asked the shop owner to hold the book, and dragged Petey to the ferry to get to the Island. 

Petey to Brock’s surprise didn’t ask too many questions about how the plans for the afternoon had shifted, and Brock for once was thankful for that stupid Mr. Sensitive nickname that the team had dubbed him with because now he could use that as his excuse for why getting Olive, someone who was just his friend now, such a sentimental Christmas gift. Elias wandered slowly into the bookshop, looking much too modern in his beige Essentials sweatshirt and dark pants in comparison to the warm shop. The shop was something straight out of what he imagined a store like this to look like, with books scattered along old wooden shelves, and a velvet couch sitting at the center of the room, a small black cat sleeping on its cushions. 

Elias walked over to the cat, reaching down to let the small animal sniff his hand and get acquainted with him before scratching it softly behind his ears. 

“That’s Leo,” a sharp but friendly voice called causing both Brock and Elias to look up toward the woman who was coming out from between two shelves, a stack of dusty books cradled in her hands and glasses hanging from a cord around her neck. 

“Well hello, Leo,” Petey greeted the cat, continuing to softly pet him until he heard soft purrs. Brock watched on with an unrecognizable look on his face, not because he didn’t like cats, but because he had never seen a cat in any sort of store before. Petey noticed his friend’s confusion and did not pass up on the opportunity at making a joke to him about it. 

“I know you only like dogs, Boes but you don’t have to stare at poor Leo like he’s ugly,” Elias commented, Brock immediately groaning slightly in response. 

Brock continued to ignore his friend, instead he paid for the book, thanking the woman profusely behind the counter. Elias watched and listened and they spoke, his mind wandering as the words sank in.

“We don’t normally have something like this in stock so when I got your email I knew we had to hold it. Must be for someone special to go through all this effort,” the woman smiled at Brock, a fondness present in her voice that he recognized. Brock smiled softly thinking about it, for a moment he forgot that Petey was within earshot and he almost let himself confess to this woman who owned a quaint little bookshop, something that Olive had always wanted to do. But then Elias came walking up, grabbing the book from his hands and he remembered that he couldn’t say how he truly felt, instead masking his feelings as best he could as he nodded. 

“Just a friend,” he smiled and Elias scoffed, knowing that this gift was far too special for it to be for just a friend. 

As the two of them walked out of the store, Elias didn’t say anything. He chose to live in his own world of denial, one that ignored the events that had just happened because if he were to face them he would have to face the fact that his closest friends had been lying to him and had gone behind his back in the exact way that he practically begged them not to. Instead he did what he knew how to do best, cracking a joke about Brock being too sensitive for his own good and then changing the subject as they continued with the rest of their shopping. 

Days later, Olive was sitting in her kitchen, frustration growing within herself as her own procrastination had taken over. She took a sip of the now cold coffee that had been sitting on the table next to her as another far too confusing video about how to hand bind a book played on her computer screen. There were papers scattered everywhere, various notes and lists of words that reminded her of Brock and how he made her feel, some that she had read in books of her own and others that she went searching for because her own feelings became too much and she needed the simplicity of putting them into one word for him. It was late and she had to literally give him this tomorrow, cursing herself for procrastinating so badly on his gift. Brock had made her feel so many of the things that she never knew another person was capable of making her feel and even if it took all night until her fingers cramped, she was determined to bind this damn book for him. 

She nearly cried as she held the finished book in her hands, the binding was terrible, and the writing on the inside was messy but she had finished it, and for it being nearly two in the morning that was enough for her. Olive was never one for crafts, her artistic abilities had stopped with horrible crayon drawings that her mother used to display on the fridge from when she was five. She was a reader, a philosopher when it came to spoken and written words, she wasn’t a crafty person by any means, but she was proud of this and hoped that Brock was receptive and not off put by the gift. 

She chose to wrap it in a small bag, setting it on the counter by her keys so that she wouldn’t forget it the following morning when she left for his house. She went through her nighttime routine, a small smile on her lips as she thought about seeing Brock the next day and giving it to him as she fell asleep. 

Olive was nervous as she drove the now familiar route to Brock’s condo. She knew that his family was in town and had told him that they could exchange their gifts after the New Year once things had settled down, but Brock was insistent that they needed to do it before Christmas. So, Olive found herself driving through the windy streets on a small detour on her way out of the city to her own childhood home in Kelowna. She had her favorite Christmas album playing softly from the car stereo as she rationalized and talked softly with herself that this wasn’t a big deal and she might not even meet anyone in his family. 

She typed in the gate code that she had memorized over the last few months and pulled her car into the guest spot, seeing Brock’s Range Rover parked next to it. She rolled her eyes, thinking again about how impractical that car was and reminding herself that Brock wasn’t exactly normal as she stepped out of her own car. She smoothed out her tights, a dark green suede skirt falling a few inches above her knees, a cream colored oversized knit sweater keeping the top part of her warm. Her hair was in her signature messy bun on top of her head, and glasses resting on her nose.

She anxiously brushed the stray hairs from her eyes with one hand as she held onto the small wrapped bag in the other as she stepped into the elevator. She walked slowly out of the elevator and down the hall to the front door she had seen many times over the last few months as she tried to give herself an encouraging pep talk about how this wasn’t that weird of a situation and Brock would surely like the gift she had picked out for him. She bit her lip slightly as she raised her hand to knock on his door, the gold bracelets on her wrist dangling as she knocked three times. When the door opened she was met with a familiar face that she had seen in many photographs scattered through Brock’s condo. 

“Dad, I got it!” She heard Brock’s voice from down the hall, his footsteps coming quickly after. Brock’s dad smiled at her warmly, stepping aside so she could come in. She looked around, noticing the tree set up in the living room with a humble amount of presents underneath it. There was a beautiful flower arrangement on his counter, something she only assumed his mom must have picked out since Brock was hopeless when it came to flowers, and the Christmas decorations that she had helped him with just days prior sprinkled throughout the kitchen and leading into the living room. She could hear various voices coming from around the corner and she felt a bit awkward and like she was invading their family time as she stood there in his kitchen, a bit out of place.

Brock rounded the corner and her eyes widened at the sight of him. He was wearing an ugly Christmas sweater, with a reindeer on the front of it, dark jeans, and bright red socks. His hair was sticking slightly out of the black beanie that he had on his head and she could tell he had freshly shaved. He looked good, even in his tacky yet endearing holiday sweater. But what caught her attention most was the little boy in his arms at his hip. She recognized him immediately as his nephew who he had told her so much about, and her heart dropped to her stomach at the sight of Brock with the toddler. Seeing it in photos was one thing, but with him standing in front of her, a bright smile on his face and his nephew in his arms, she might have collapsed right there if not for knowing his dad was just feet away watching this exchange occur. 

The little boy waved excitedly at Olive, twisting himself in Brock’s arms to reach out toward her. Brock settled him down, lowering him onto his feet while holding his hands up so that he could stand. 

“Easton, can you say hi to Olive?” He said to the boy, squatting down so that he was as level as he could be with him and taking Easton’s hand and directing it toward Olive. It didn’t take long for him to break from Brock’s light hold, tumbling over toward Olive before she could fully react. She panicked as Easton grabbed onto her tights, wrapping both of his small sweater covered arms around her calves and Brock chuckled softly in the background. She looked over to Brock with pleading eyes, not wanting to overstep any boundaries by picking the young boy up. 

“Careful buddy, you don’t want to knock the pretty girl over,” she heard his dad say from behind her, nodding softly at Brock before exiting the room and leaving Olive alone there with Easton on her legs and Brock smiling adoringly in front of her. 

“Let’s go to my room, yeah?” Brock asked, leaning down to pick up his nephew and lead her further into his condo that she knew well. He handed the toddler back to his brother, quickly introducing Olive to everyone before grabbing her hand and lacing his fingers through hers as he tugged her toward his bedroom. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure that his entire family probably heard it. All she could focus on was that Brock was holding her hand, he had held her hand in front of his entire family, and her mind was going in circles over the simple show of affection as they went into his room, leaving the door slightly open. 

Brock dropped her hand and Olive quickly tried to recover from the slight pang of sadness that she felt from the loss of contact. Brock handed her the package, it was poorly wrapped and very obviously a book, but she already loved it anyways. 

“Open yours first, Ollie.” Brock said. She carefully handed him the bag, biting her lip softly as she carefully ripped the messily wrapped rectangular shaped present. She let out a small gasp when she realized what it was, letting her hands run over the worn out pages as she took a step toward Brock.

“How did you find this?” She asked him. She had been looking for a first edition for what felt like months, having visited what felt like almost every bookstore in the city multiple times looking for it. Brock ran a hand nervously through his hair, a soft blush and smile present in his features.

“I, uh, found it at this small place on Vancouver Island, went out there last week.” He shrugged, doing his best at ignoring the fact that this much effort was not normal for friends. He swallowed nervously as Olive walked toward him and settled into his arms, her fingers sliding around his sides before one hand pressed against his jaw.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she leaned in. This was it, he was finally going to kiss Olive, a moment that was pent up and he had been waiting for since that night in the dive bar all those months ago. Olive’s lips were almost to his as his eyes fluttered closed, just barely grazing before the door flew open and Olive jumped back, coughing lightly and eyes wide open in shock. Easton had tumbled into the room, Brock’s sister in law chasing after him and picking him up. She clearly read the room as she smirked toward Brock and a now embarrassed Olive, picking up her son and closing the door behind them as she left. 

“I should, uhm, get back on the road,” Olive stuttered out. 

“Right, yeah,” Brock mumbled out, his lips burning from the almost contact as Olive rushed out of his place, waving goodbye to his family as she left. Brock closed the front door behind her, turning to be faced with every member of his family looking at him in a way that made him want to go back into his room and scream into a pillow. He already had to deal with his own feelings, Olive’s feelings, and Petey’s ridiculous demands, the last thing he wanted to tack onto the list was explaining to his family that she was more than a friend but not his girlfriend yet. 

“I liked your girlfriend, Brock,” His dad smiled and Brock nearly collapsed right there. Of course his dad liked her, another nail in the coffin that contained his desire for Olive to actually be his girlfriend. 

“She’s not my girlfriend, dad.” Brock shrugged, trying to move on from the subject for the rest of the day as they continued to celebrate the holiday.  

--------------

Brock could hear the countdown beginning, each one of his friends echoing the numbers down to the New Year, but it all felt like static in the background as he watched Olive. The lights on the roof were dimmed, presumably for the fireworks that were likely going to be set off when time turned to midnight. He looked at Olive and to him she was the brightest thing of the year even if it hadn’t started yet. He stood off to the side with his now empty drink in his hand watching her as she popped open a bottle of some expensive European champagne that Jacob had sworn by as being the best. 

Her gold dress lit up in contrast to her crimson red lips, her long dark hair curled and falling down her back, something that was rare for Olive. Brock’s maroon bomber jacket was hanging from her body, something he had given her just hours before as it started to get dark. But what really was getting to Brock was seeing her laugh as she popped the cork, champagne bubbling out of the bottle and all over the front of her dress. He could hear the countdown hit one as everyone cheered for the new year and he watched as Olive looked around the rooftop, a gorgeous smile on her red lips as she made eye contact with him. She raised the bottle to her lips, taking a long drink before setting it down on the table and walking toward him. With each step she took, her smile grew, and Brock knew right then and there that he loved Olive Burke, champagne stained dress and all. 

Olive came tumbling into Brock, tripping slightly and landing right in his arms, laughing loudly as Brock realized just how much she had to drink that night. He grabbed her waist to steady her as she looked at him, her expression inquisitive and different than he had ever seen her look at him before. Olive and Brock had been dancing around each other since they met, both of them steadily falling into each other with no true intentions of stopping. There was a roadblock though, and as Brock looked at the girl he somehow fell in love with all he could hear in his head was Petey’s disapproval, a steady echo in his mind stopping him from pulling her closer every time. 

 Olive reached her hand up to his hair, running her fingers through it softly as her other hand rested on his chest, sending Brock’s head into a tailspin of worry that she was going to start leaning in. As much as he wanted this and her, he didn’t want it under these circumstances, with Olive having significantly more to drink than he had. It may have hurt to not be able to kiss Olive for New Years, but it would hurt worse for him to know that he had even marginally taken advantage of a situation that she was too drunk to have coherent thoughts over. 

“You’re so pretty, Brockadoodle.” Olive laughed, leaning her head slightly into his chest, the warmth radiating from his body as they stood on the roof. Fireworks were going off in the distance, lighting up the sky above the water although neither of them were looking. 

“You’re pretty drunk, Ollie.” He smiled at her, watching as her face pulled into a sour look at his lack of acceptance of her compliments. She pouted slightly, leaning her head into his chest and shivering a bit, all of the noise passing by around her as she leaned into Brock. The noise and commotion didn’t matter, all that mattered was him and she knew that this year she was going to be brave. She was going to tell him that she loved him, even if it didn’t end in them together. 

“Will you take me home?” She asked, yawning slightly. Brock steadied her in his arms, setting his glass down and wrapping her hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it as she smiled drunkenly at him. 

“Yeah, Olive, I’ll get you home safe,” he nodded as they left the party together, Elias looking on in the distance but too drunk to fully comprehend what was happening right in front of him. Instead the denial crept back into his head as he watched his friends leave hand in hand on a night where the saying about who you spend the new year with is who you’ll be with that year would ultimately ring true. 

Brock pulled the covers over Olive as she slowly closed her eyes, the drunkenness taking over her body as the room slightly spun around her. Her heart was heavy, the excitement of the night wearing off and the sadness of knowing that she was spending New Years essentially alone kicking in stronger than it would have if she was sober. Brock started to get up, thinking she was already asleep when he was startled by her grabbing his arm slightly.

“Why didn’t you kiss me at midnight?” She whispered, her eyes nearly watering as she sat up in bed to look at him. Olive was never one to shy away from her feelings, when she liked someone, she told them. But Brock was different, he was sweet, and kind, and everything she didn’t know she wanted wrapped up into one person who had steadily become a constant in her mess of a life. She had only known him for such a short time, all things considered, but now she couldn’t picture her life without him. Elias’s words constantly stop her from admitting her feelings for him, a sharp echo of “you’ll run him over and leave him in the dust,” stabbing her in the chest every time she comes close. So for now, she took what she could from Brock, settling on the dance that the two of them kept doing, sharing her love only in written words with the hope that someday he would decipher it. 

Brock frowned, hating that he was unintentionally hurting Olive. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a few seconds while he held her cheek. 

“Happy New Year’s, Ollie.” 

--------------

When none of the group was voted in for the All-Star game that year, Olive knew they should take advantage of the week off together, suggesting that they all go out to Whistler and get a cabin, an idea that secretly she knew Brock would love because he was always down for things involving the snow. Largely everyone agreed, and so she found herself settling into a beautiful rented cabin with Brock, Elias, Quinn, and Quinn’s girlfriend on their way to the mountains. 

“Really? Neither of you are willing to go?” Brock sighed, looking at Petey and Quinn pointedly. Petey shrugged his shoulders, mumbling something about not wanting to be cold and Quinn actively ignored the question and got up and left the room.

“Ollie,” Brock looked at Olive, who was sitting at the kitchen counter, a mug of tea in her hands, actively trying to ignore the conversation that had been taking place. She set her mug down, looking over at Brock. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go, it was quite the opposite really. 

Brock was standing there, eyes soft as he watched her, a dark green beanie covering his hair, a thick grey sweatshirt on his body. Olive had to shake the thoughts she had been having about him all morning. She was still recovering from seeing him sleepy when he first woke up, his breath hot on her neck while he reached around her to grab his own mug of coffee, a soft good morning coming from his tired, thick voice. His lips had ghosted softly over her neck, a moment that was ripped too soon when he seemed to wake up a bit more and remember that this wasn’t what either of them thought it was. He couldn’t just kiss her good morning like she wanted him to, so the moment passed without words, an awkward dance in the hours before Elias and Autumn retreated from their beds. 

Brock wordlessly left the kitchen after that moment, taking Olive’s breath with him as he did, and she had spent the rest of the morning actively trying to avoid his presence. But with him standing near her once more, looking like the boyfriend she wanted him to be, she found herself humming in agreement on going sledding with him, heart rate rising as his smile increased after she had said yes. 

Olive was borderline panicking, wondering why she had to be so infatuated with the boy looking at her. She adjusted the dark blue beanie on her head, and zipped up her parka, an added layer of protection over her heart to hopefully prevent Brock from invading into her any further. She plastered on a fake smile, an attempt at covering the nerves that were racing through her body as she kept trying to remind herself that this was no big deal, just sledding with a friend. 

Brock opened the door to the SUV and gestured for Olive to get in, watching as she tried to get settled with her large puffy coat on. He was standing there debatably too long, admiring the little flakes of snow scattered in the ends of her hair that were hanging out of the beanie he lent her. He felt a strange pull of affection at the idea of her in his clothes, a picture entering his mind of seeing her in the morning, one of his sweatshirts draped over her body as he kissed her. 

“Brock, are we going or are you just going to stand there holding the door,” Olive’s tone was light, and it caused his picture to fade, a slight heat rising to his face as if he was caught doing something wrong. Brock liked Olive, as so much more than a friend, and when her smirk softened into a smile, he felt as if he saw his own feelings reflecting back at him through her eyes.

“You look like a cute marshmallow.” He said, a grin on his face and affection in his eyes. Olive blushed slightly at his words that did nothing to calm the beat of her heart as she rolled her eyes at Brock, barely skipping a beat as she responded with a cheeky comment of her own.

“Thank you, I will be expecting a letter of appreciation for my impact when you make me s’mores later.” 

“Anything for you, Ollie,” Brock responded, handing her his phone as he turned on the car, giving her free reign of the music that would softly play in the background as they drove on toward the small town. 

Brock drove carefully down the highway, dark green trees covered in snow on either side. It reminded him a bit of the scene in Minnesota where he grew up, cold winters with endless snowfall. But the difference here was that he had Olive next to him, the girl who he had grown so fond of over the last few months, humming softly along to the song playing through the speakers, watching as the trees flew by. Winter didn’t seem so cold with her there, and for a moment he forgot about Petey asking him not to fall for her, he didn’t think about the fact that this was a short week trip in the middle of the season, all that was dancing through his mind was the girl in the passenger seat next to him and how he was going to finally have the resolve to kiss her today.

They quickly rented a sled, his contract preventing them from anything more physical than that like skiing or snowboarding, and headed off toward the bunny slopes. They struggled to get the sled underneath them, Brock insisting he could do it as he pushed them off to start going down the mountain, his arms wrapped tightly around her as she was sitting in between his legs. It was all going well until he tried to turn, sending them tumbling out of the slide and into the snow. 

Olive laughed loudly as Brock fell on top of her, reacting quickly to catch himself so that he wouldn’t land on her or hurt her. Her laugh was his favorite song, something that he could set on repeat and listen to for hours, not because it was particularly beautiful, but because each time she laughed it was genuine and the happiness that radiated from her was something he never wanted to stop seeing. 

It would be so easy for him to kiss her, with her hair wildy spread out in the snow, flakes of it coming down and melting on her warm cheeks, Olive looking at him like she was standing on the dock, hand reaching out and ready for him to make the jump with her. His body was flushed against hers, hovered over her in a way that felt comfortable and right, visions of what this would be like if the setting were different clouding his judgement. He stayed hovered over Olive for a moment, watching as her eyes flicked down to his lips and back up, hope flashing through his mind that if he did kiss her, she would kiss him back. All of the commotion around them seemingly evaporated as he stayed there, her hand steady on his side, his body hovering over hers, snow indented behind them from where they slid off of the path. 

“Can I kiss you?” Brock whispered as he leaned even closer, his own stomach twisting with nerves as he looked down at Olive for her answer. When she slowly nodded, he felt like his chest was going to explode as he leaned in. Suddenly, time wasn’t passing leisurely anymore, it was quick as he leaned down and pressed his lips softly to hers.  

Olive reacted quickly to the kiss, months of pent up glances and moments where she thought this very thing was going to happen causing her to ignore all of the reasons why it shouldn’t. She reached her hand up, pulling Brock even closer to her than he already was as she kissed him back, her heart doing flips in her chest and her body lighting up with each passing second. 

Everything about the kiss felt right to Olive. She had spent so long dancing on this tightrope with Brock that it felt like one of those slow motion scenes in a bad Hallmark Christmas movie, where the characters would finally pull together and realize their feelings. But this wasn’t a movie, and there wasn’t a Christmas love story to be had for Brock and Olive in late January. 

Brock pulled himself from her, offering a smile that was quite possibly the most incredible smile Olive had seen from him as he held his hand out to her to help pull her up. When she was standing and facing him, she leaned up and kissed him softly once more, savoring the feeling of her lips on his, the threads of her heart seaming together as she was able to add the first real tally to the list of almost encounters, ones that had been haunting her thoughts since that night in September when Brock had shown up, crashing completely into her with his lopsided smile, bad taste in beer, and a slightly sunburnt nose.

Olive felt indescribable as she walked through the small town, hand tightly wrapped in Brock’s. For the first time since meeting him she felt like they were where they were supposed to be. They continued walking back toward the car, having stopped in a small cafe for a hot chocolate, something that Olive had insisted was necessary after a day in the snow.

“Brock, stop! You’re going to make me spill this” Olive laughed as Brock pulled her by the waist further into his arms. He was pressing soft kisses to her cheeks that were still tinted pink from the cold. 

“I just really like kissing you,” he responded as he brought his right hand up to Olive’s cheek, kissing her softly for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon. It was something Olive wasn’t growing tired of, all of the pent up feelings for the boy standing in front of her fluttering into the open in a way that they hadn’t been able to before. 

After helping Olive into the car, Brock reached over and grabbed her hand once more, threading his fingers with hers as he drove down the highway back to the cabin. Both of them were on edge as they thought about what this afternoon had meant, and how they were going to tell their friend who seemed to want nothing to do with the idea of them being together. Olive was bouncing her knee slightly as they got closer to the cabin and Brock put the car into park, neither of them making a move toward getting out of the car and going inside. 

“What are we going to tell him?” Olive was the first to break the silence that had been growing between them. Her voice was soft and hesitant as she spoke and she was desperately trying to keep her own insecurities down as she waited for Brock’s response. She knew what she wanted, she wanted to walk into that house with Brock by her side and she wanted her best friend to accept and be happy for them. But that desire was a large one, and even though Brock had given her every indication that he wanted all of that and more with her, if he didn’t say that it would probably crush her in a way that she wasn’t prepared to handle. 

Olive bit her lip as Brock squeezed her hand softly. He turned his body in the car, unwrapping his fingers from hers and instead bringing his hand softly to her cheek, pulling her a bit to look at him as he spoke. 

“I want you, I’ve wanted you since I met you, Olive. You’re this incredible, whirlwind of a person and you’re absolutely too smart and beautiful and overall good for me but somehow you tumbled into my life and have had a hold on my heart since.” 

Olive looked into his eyes and found nothing but sincerity in them. She smiled into his hand and leaned forward to kiss him once more.

“I like you so much,” she said against his lips, leaning her body over the center console to be as close to him as possible in such a small space, not preparing for what was potentially to come. In that moment, none of it mattered. It didn’t matter that Elias didn’t want them together, it didn’t matter that she had never been able to open up to someone in the way that she had with Brock, and it didn’t matter that she was terrified at the idea of what this could become. All that mattered to Olive was Brock, and she would do anything she could to hold onto him for as long as possible. 

“I like you too, Ollie, so much,” He whispered, pulling her in once more before bracing himself for the conversation with Petey that was likely to follow. Brock felt safe with Olive, he didn’t feel like he was compromising his heart by handing it over to her, he felt like he was investing it into something that would grow and evolve into a love that he didn’t know he ever wanted. He gave her one last kiss before they both got out of the car, lacing their fingers together yet again as they walked up to the front porch and into the house. 

Brock helped Olive get out of her coat, hanging the oversized parka on the metal coat rack by the door before looking around the hallway slightly to see if anyone would catch him stealing one more kiss. He felt like they were lovestruck teenagers, the thrill of sneaking around getting a bit to his head as he pulled her in one last time, pressing his lips softly to hers while she ran her hands through his hair. She grabbed his hand once more, leading him further into the house. 

Petey looked up from his spot on the old craftsman style couch, not noticing their entwined hands and rosy cheeks. The truth was that his mood was far too sour to notice the shift in dynamic between Brock and Olive. 

“Where’s Quinn?” Brock asked, still holding Olive’s hand from behind the counter. She looked up at him slightly, squeezing his fingers reassuringly before looking back toward Elias who had a scowl on his face.

“He and his girlfriend went out, not sure where.” Elias shrugged, taking a sip of his tea and quickly adding,

“I’m so glad you two aren’t together or this would be the worst trip now.” 

Olive frowned at his words, her head starting to spin and guilt over kissing Brock pooling in her stomach. But what hurt the most, was how quickly Brock had dropped her hand, her heart cracking just enough to make her throat close up at the loss of the sensation of Brock’s fingers threaded through hers. She did her best to let the moment pass, plastering on a fake smile as she excused herself from the kitchen, ruffling Elias’s hair softly as she walked by to get to her room, words dripping sarcastically from her lips,

“Right, well, you don’t have to worry about that.” 

Brock tried to pretend that the words coming from his friend didn’t hurt and that he didn’t feel like he had everything ripped right out from underneath him as Petey made the offhand comment. He sighed as he retreated back to his own room to gather his thoughts. He felt completely stuck at an intersection, where if he turned right he would be met with Olive, the girl who had been occupying his thoughts since September, who he had finally kissed just hours earlier after months of daring himself to make it happen. If he were to turn left, he would be met with losing Olive in the way that he wanted her most but he would keep his heart guarded because according to Petey, Olive was only capable of crushing his heart not cradling it. It was beginning to feel like it wasn’t Olive that could hurt him, it was actually Petey. 

Brock took an hour to himself and tried to consolidate his thoughts well enough to be able to talk to Olive. He knew that they couldn’t pretend that the kisses and admissions of affection from that afternoon hadn’t have happened, and he knew now thanks to Petey’s comment that they needed to have a definitive conversation about what it all meant. Brock walked over to Olive’s door, bringing his hand up and tentatively knocking on the soft wood. When she answered, he could tell that she had cried and that made his chest tighten even more than it already had as she stepped aside, motioning for him to come into the room. 

Olive crawled back into her bed, bringing the dark green comforter back up to her chest as she watched Brock sit down. He ran a hand through his hair, his mind grappling with what he wanted to say to her. He hated that he could see in her expression how hurt she already was, and he wanted nothing more than to be the one helping slow her tears rather than the one who caused them. But he kept grappling over the scenario in his mind, trying to convince himself that chalking the kiss up to a mistake was what produced the best outcome for everyone involved. 

“I’m sorry,” were the only words he knew how to say to the girl who was near tears again in front of him, because those were the only words he could come up with that would be true. Olive nodded, turning her head to look away from him, catching her gaze on the navy blue notebook that she always carried with her. 

“Miscalculation: an error or misjudgement,” she whispered, eyes filling with tears as she tried to avoid Brock’s expression. 

“Yeah.” Brock smiled sadly, hating that this was the outcome of what had been such a happy moment between them before, her lack of words confirming what he walked into that room already knowing. The weight of the words from earlier in the afternoon stepping heavily on both of their hearts. Maybe it was true what they said about timing, how sometimes no matter how right a person is, the situation or timing isn’t right. She couldn’t help but think about how different things would have been if she had met Brock first and not Elias, because she was so sure that her soul belonged with his. But if there was one thing about Olive it was that she would always let herself down before her friends, and if this was that important to Elias for them to not see each other, she would come to live with that no matter how much it crushed her in the process. 

The discussion turned down a path that Olive absolutely hated, but had to walk on for the sake of everyone else’s happiness around her. Olive hated disappointing anyone, and the idea that what her and Brock did behind Elias’s back was eating away at her, even if it felt right in the moment. She wanted more than anything to have given Brock her heart and faced Elias hoping that he cared enough about both of them as a friend to be happy that they were happy. But Brock unknowingly tossed the box with her heart in it out as soon as he dropped her hand earlier that afternoon, a clear sign that whatever this was that was developing between them wasn’t worth the risk, and Olive found herself reminded of why she usually left before letting her heart get wrapped up in someone else in the first place. 

She found herself laying there in bed and letting the tears fall silently down her cheeks as Brock sat there silent. It wasn’t fair in the moment, but she was so hurt by how quickly Brock had given up that she wanted nothing to do with him for at least a few hours. She just wanted to lay in her bed and cry, and then maybe pull out her notebook and scribble out all of the words that she had written about her falling in love with him.  

--------------

It was stupid really, how easily she let herself fall back into things with Brock after the trip in January. How quickly her lists became littered again with words that reminded her of him, each scribbled down in dark ink on various post-its littering the confines of the object that provided her the most sense of security. She wasn’t sure why she agreed to come up to the roof with him that night, why she felt like it would do anything but pull her heart apart more being up there in such a romantic setting when she knew that things between them could never fully transpire. But it was Brock, and all he had to do was smile at her a certain way and she would be there. She would hate herself for it, but Brock had always been just as close to her as she was to him, so even if it hurt that they couldn’t be together, she would allow herself to settle for being in his life in this capacity, because that was better than being tossed out of it completely. 

When Brock had called and insisted she came over, she at first thought something was wrong. It was nearing 10pm when he called, a time that if any other boy were to call her up at, most likely meant something else. But she knew Brock, and he whatever this was couldn’t have been a late night hook up call, because as far as she could tell, she was worth more to him than a short “you up?” text. So despite her still feeling wary of her relationship with him, she got in her car and drove the familiar route to his place, trying to conceal the mess that was her beating heart. 

Olive followed Brock up the familiar concrete steps, staying two paces behind him as they went toward the door to the roof access point. It wasn’t the first time they had been alone together since the disastrous cabin trip, where she had finally let herself be with Brock in the way that she had been wanting and writing about, only to have it torn apart before the ink could dry enough to not be smudged on the pages. She hated that she still felt this way about him. What hurt the most was that she had all of these words ready for him, but she never got to give him the most important one, the one that told him that she loved him. 

Love was a funny thing for Olive Burke, it was something that she read about for years, but never something that she longed for until she met Brock. Her past had been full of almosts, people that checked one too few boxes on the endless lists that she created as her standards. But Brock came into her life and simultaneously her heart, not just checking each box but completely blacking it out, only to end in them having to burn the list for the sake of those around them anyways. 

When she got to the roof, she nearly cried at what she saw. Brock had set out blankets and pillows and a bottle of wine, a classic scene for a date that she wished she could actually be on. He had thought of everything, even handing her an old sweatshirt of his to throw on over her thin flannel, his name embossed in white on the back. When she put the sweatshirt on she looked at Brock, a sad smile on both of their faces at the remembrance that this was something that could have been, but wasn’t. 

“There’s a comet tonight, in half an hour. That’s why I called,” Brock said. She hated how uncomfortable he sounded, how unsure he sounded after everything they had been through. That might have been the most painful thing about what had happened that snowy day in January, that she not only lost who she thought would be someone to love, but someone who had become one of her best friends. Part of her wished she had never come here to see him, the sense of it being a mistake that could only hurt her filling her thoughts, and the other part of her was ready to give up on the stupid reasons for them not being together. She took another moment to take in her surroundings as the realization hit her harder than the cool wind blowing on the rooftop. She loved Brock, she had fallen completely head first into love with him and yet he was painfully out of reach. 

She pushed some of the hair that was blowing into her face behind her ears as she looked at him, the first time she had truly been alone with him since the trip to the cabin. They never talked about what happened, instead she had picked up every time he called as she tumbled back into a seemingly good place with him, her words shifting out of heartache and back into those of a girl in love. She hadn’t seen him alone over that time from the cabin trip until now, each time it had been in a group setting and there was always someone acting as a buffer between them. 

“Things have just been weird between us, and I saw this and thought of you and, fuck Ollie, I really missed you.” Brock frowned, his words flawed because he knew that what he was saying didn’t make up for everything that had happened. Him missing Olive didn’t make up for the fact that he was still too much of a coward to just tell his friend that he didn’t care about his dumb rule. Olive bit her lip and looked up at the sky for a moment, before settling her eyes back on the boy in front of her. It hurt being with him, but it had hurt worse not being with him as a friend. She missed when he would bring her here after home games, the two of them always winding down with a few episodes of the show they were currently watching, or her telling him about the latest book she had read, him always listening and taking in the words she wildly spoke because he loved how passionate she was about each one. She missed Brock more than she let herself admit to.

“I missed you too, Brock. She said, pulling down the sleeves of her sweater. Olive reached for the bottle of wine that he had brought up to the roof, reading the label quickly as if that would buy her some time in this moment with Brock. She hated that she felt that same longing for him that she had tried to suppress after the cabin trip. She couldn’t handle the push pull of having him right in her hands and then being ripped away again. Her heart was still cracked from that night in January, and she was so sure that if she let Brock in fully again that it would end up shattered beyond repair on the ground, covered in the dust of her feelings for him. 

The two of them sat on the roof for a while sipping on the wine and looking out at the city and up at the sky. As the line of liquid in the bottle started to drift down, the conversation picked up and started flowing between them in a comfortable way. After the drinking had calmed some of the nerves from being alone with him again, she found herself slipping into the same habits with him as if that kiss hadn’t essentially ruined everything between them. It was nice to be back with him, and she let herself open up to him again, this time the mantra of “we’re just friends” steadily running through her mind. The bottle eventually ran out, and the words that were now flowing freely between them just kept getting deeper. 

“Why did they name you Olive?” Brock asked as the two of them continued in conversation, the night growing later and the breeze picking up around them. He knew they were slipping into dangerous waters, but he didn’t know how to stop it. He wanted to know everything about Olive that she was willing to give him, and as he sat here and listened to her talk about her family in ways she had never talked about them with him before, he found himself writing his own list of words to someday give to Olive, with love sitting comfortably in permanent marker on the first line. 

“I think that they thought if they named me Olive, it would somehow fix the problems in their marriage that they were too blind to fixing before having me. In a way, I was their olive branch, even if it didn’t last.” Brock listened carefully as Olive spoke, revealing something she rarely talked about with people. Olive had never known what love was supposed to look like from a real-life perspective, her parents separating when she was only two years old. All she knew was custody battles, and bitterness, and overnight bags as she was funneled back and forth between two incomplete homes, a future that she never wanted for the family she hoped to one day have. 

“Are you afraid of love?” The words slipped from Brock’s lips before he could stop them, a question that caused Olive to stop breathing for a few seconds, the loose threads of the flannel blanket suddenly offering her a welcomed and needed distraction while she raced through her mind about how to answer that question. The problem wasn’t that she was afraid of love, at least not at a surface level of the word, the problem was that her whole life revolved around it, yet she never truly understood what the feelings behind love meant. She closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the cool air that was blowing through her hair that was down for once, something she subconsciously did before coming up here with Brock in hopes that maybe he would find her pretty enough for his affections.

Olive let her eyes flutter open and she turned her head away from him, breaking eye contact and looking out at the city illuminated softly in the background, curling her hands deeper into the old flannel blanket he brought up with them. Brock watched as she sighed softly, hoping that he didn’t overstep with his irresponsible question. 

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Olive said, voice barely above a whisper. She thought back to the kiss they had shared that day in January, knowing that in that moment love was something that for once wasn’t foreign to her. It was something that she saw and felt as she looked into Brock’s eyes right as he asked if he could kiss her. She loved Brock, and she had known that for a while now, its presence in her heart was heavy but steady. But this wasn’t that afternoon in January, this was a late night in February, and things were different. She didn’t get Brock in the end, even if the love she knew she was feeling for him had lingered past that afternoon in January.  

“Are you afraid right now?” He asked, the question penetrating the surface level of what was normal for a conversation between two people who had been dancing along the ledge of something more than either of them should have been doing. The late night phone calls, the subtle touches when they were together, the lingering, and the flashbacks of a kiss that they both seemed to avoid facing the reality of all added up to the affirmation that feelings were bubbling up to the surface, pushing them together in the very way they both promised their friend that they wouldn’t do. But, Brock wasn’t afraid and he knew how he felt about the girl sitting beside him from as soon as he saw her stumble into the bar with his best friend, crimson red on her lips, commenting on his shitty tasting beer. Olive’s personality was loud, she was so unapologetically herself. Her hair was always a mess, her scratchy handwriting present on sticky notes that he found everywhere in her wake. She was the definition of coffee that she had let get too cold for it to have possibly been any good, but he would still drink that coffee everyday if it meant Olive was there with him, reading beside him with her dark rimmed glasses perched at the end of her nose, hair thrown up messily on her head and he would do anything to feel her lips on his once more. 

“No, Brock. I’m not afraid when I’m with you.” She whispered, looking up at him, her eyes full of sincerity at the moment. It might have seemed too soon for anyone else, but something about Brock made her feel like she could breathe in a way that she never had before. The release of sharing her inner fears with someone who she found herself falling for with each passing day, the moment feeling heavy yet comfortable for her.   

Olive felt herself leaning in, the cool winds hitting her skin as she tried to focus on Brock. Her thigh pressed slightly against his, warmth spreading underneath the blanket that her hands held onto as Brock shifted slightly, lifting his hand to the side of her face. 

Time felt like it was slowing down, the stereotypical kiss that is shown in every rendition of the same romantic comedy, feelings bubbling to the surface as her eyelids fluttered shut and his lips inched closer. All she had to do was close the distance, and let herself fall safely into Brock’s waiting hands. But as she neared the line, Elias’s words echoed in her mind. His comment from that day at the cabin so many months ago, and she knew that no matter how badly her heart wanted Brock, she couldn’t betray her closest friend for the sake of her own heart’s desires.  

“Brock, wait.” She pulled back, pressing her hand softly to his chest. Brock opened his eyes slowly, and he almost wondered if the whole thing had been a dream. He felt his heart sink as her eyes cast downward, a familiar feeling of rejection pooling in his stomach. If he was being honest with himself, he knew what the next words out of her would be, but he wanted to live in the moment just a bit longer. He wanted to kiss Olive again, this time fully ready to confront his feelings even if it meant having to make their friend understand.  

“We shouldn’t.” Olive leaned back, creating a distance between them that felt colder than the air surrounding them. Brock didn’t know what to think other than that he wished for the circumstances to be something different than they were. He knew why they shouldn’t, and even if it was the right decision to stop before anything happened, it made him long for better timing, a parallel universe where perhaps he had met Olive first, not Petey, because if he had then maybe he could experience getting to know her without the cloud of influence that Petey had over their relationship that Brock felt like shouldn’t even matter anymore. 

“Right.” He smiled sadly, grasping onto hope that maybe Olive would be willing to try, despite the common denominator in the complicated equation being the one person that they both relied on. He knew it wouldn’t be right to go behind Petey’s back, especially when the warnings were constantly echoing in his ear, Petey’s predictions that Brock would only end up hurt in the end. As much as he liked Olive, he knew his closest friend was trying to help him guard his heart from being the piece of him that he had given away too easily many times in the past. 

Olive shivered slightly as Brock moved farther away from her, the moment of misjudgment passing quickly as they entered into the next serious topic of this moment that was starting to feel never-ending. She fought with her mind to come up with the right words to say to console her own heart and make Brock feel better, their connection so obvious to the both of them even if they couldn’t act on it. 

“He’s my best friend, Brock, and yours. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened and I came between you.” She gestured between them, guilt from accepting his offer to be on the roof swallowing her whole. She didn’t understand how something that felt so right in the moment, could also feel so wrong. She just kept envisioning Elias, disappointed, and hurt in her mind if he were to find out what they were doing behind his back. His two closest friends essentially betraying his trust.

Brock sat there mulling over her words, his heart in a physical fight with his head about what was worth risking at this point. He loved Petey, but he also knew that Olive was who he wanted. He couldn’t picture himself with anyone else, and she was here with him, on the roof with her legs pressed against his and her heart breaking right in front of him and he just wanted to put it back together for her. 

“Hey, I didn’t give you the word of the day.” Brock turned his head to look at her as she spoke, her tone light, as if she didn’t just take a seam ripper to his heart, carefully plucking the loose threads of her away from his chest. He nodded at her before returning his gaze to the city, the lights from the shiny glass skyscrapers illuminating across the water. 

“Ubiquitous: existing or being everywhere at the same time, constantly encountered,” Olive recounted, voice softening as she continued reciting the definition, a frown slightly developing on her lips. Olive looked at the boy beside her, the same one who had somehow become the person who was with her everywhere. Olive had spent so many years studying love, reading every classic she could get her hands on, analyzing the words written from someone’s deepest crevices of their hearts, and she could probably recite the likes of Pride and Prejudice and Jane Eyre by heart if she had to. But despite reading about the projection of love portrayed in literature for years, the actuality of it felt foreign and non transcribable even as it was sitting next to her looking out at the city. 

“Fuck, Ollie. I can’t pretend. I can’t just pretend I don’t know what it’s like to kiss you and what it feels like when I’m around you,” Brock sighed, taking Olive’s hands in his own as he looked into her eyes, seeing the panic reflected in them. 

“Brock, we can’t,” she tried. Her heart was racing and her head was screaming at her to stop, to not hear Brock out. But her heart was craving the comfort of being nestled with his and she felt like she was grasping onto his hands to prevent herself from falling off of the roof.

“Are you happy, Olive? With this between us? Or do you think about it? Me and you,” he asked. 

Olive bit her lip as she tried to stall, but she knew that she had her answer. 

“I want to be with you, but,” 

“Then fuck, why aren’t we together? Why does what Petey have to say matter? Why does anyone else matter? Fuck, Olive I like you so much. It’s worth the risk,” Brock pleaded. 

Olive pulled her hands from his and moved so that she was in his lap, her legs straddling either side of his. She was scared of everything that would happen as a result of the decision she was about to make, but she knew Brock would be there, holding her hand through it. Brock reacted quickly, sliding his hands up her thighs so that they were resting on her hips. 

“Let’s try,” she whispered with her forehead against his, her voice quiet but sure. Brock moved one hand to the nape of her neck, pulling her down to him and pressing his lips to hers. Her stomach was exploding with butterflies as her lips moved against his, the two of them closer together than they’d ever been. When they kissed in January it was fun, it was exciting and different until Elias had all but rained on their own little parade. But this kiss was something else, and Olive found herself falling even farther into Brock with each second that passed by, the consequences of their actions not mattering to her at all in that moment.  

--------------

When Olive had suggested an anti-valentines day party, she didn’t think that any of the boys would take her seriously. Most people wanted to be coupled up on Valentine’s Day, spending it with their partner and showering them with attention and gifts. Olive hated Valentine’s Day, she thought it was just a mother excuse to romanticize consumerism and make people who didn’t have a valentine feel shitty about it. So when Jake’s now ex-girlfriend broke up with him two weeks prior, and Petey mentioned him having a hard time with it, she suggested having an anti-Valentine’s Day party where everyone could just get wasted and be single. Jake was thrilled about the idea and offered up his house in Kelowna for the occasion. 

Olive and Brock had been sneaking around for months, but only weeks officially together and as they gathered with all of their friends, they were finding it hard to keep things hidden. Olive stood in the kitchen, Brock mixing them drinks in front of her. When he was finished, he came in close to her ear as he handed her the drink, his lips grazing her jaw softly and quickly as he spoke. 

“You look so fucking pretty, Olive.” She blushed as she took a sip of the concoction he had given her, laughing softly as he pushed him slightly away from her and looked around, hoping that no one caught the seemingly harmless moment between them. But Jake had seen it from across the room where he was sitting with Quinn and Elias, smirking softly at his two friends who clearly had something more going on than they were sharing.

“What’s going on with Brock and Olive?” Jake smirked, nodding toward the pair who were lost in their own little world, Brock and Olive slipping out onto the deck together, both of them blushing and giggling from likely more than the alcohol.  

“Nothing, they’re just friends. Sorry if you’re mad about it,” Petey shrugged, clearly annoyed by Jake and Quinn’s incessant meddling into Brock and Olive. Sure Elias could admit they were flirty, but Olive was just like that, it didn’t mean anything. He decided at that moment to get a new drink, needing some space from his idiotic teammates who clearly were reading into something that he felt wholeheartedly wasn’t there. 

Jake and Quinn shared a look before drifting their eyes out to the deck, where they could see Olive’s arms wrapped around Brock’s waist as they talked with each other. There were smiles on both of their faces that were recognizable as the type of grinning when you’re infatuated with someone and can’t see anyone else. Quinn laughed to himself a bit as he and Jake watched for a moment. 

“That kid is in denial, those two are either in love with each other or they’re just really bad at this whole anti-valentines day thing,” Quinn said, shaking his head slightly thinking about how quickly Elias shut the idea of anything down between them.

“To Brock and Olive, may Petey pull his head out of his ass soon,” Jake joked as he raised his beer toward Quinn’s, the two of them roasting before moving on from the conversation, Olive and Brock still oblivious to the happenings inside and they stood in their own little world where the population was just them. 

An hour later, Olive stood outside on Jake’s deck by herself, drink placed in her right hand, and a sad smile on her lips. She was looking out at the water, the calm, still dark blue water slightly illuminated by the moon and stars that shined much brighter than they ever did in Vancouver. Her mind was reeling with regret. Regret for suggesting this party, regret for going along with the whole theme, and most of all regret forever coming to that stupid dive bar night with Petey in the first place. She swirled the half-empty red cup of beer in her hand as she sighed. She was tired of the entire thing, the party, the dumb anti-valentines day jokes she had been cracking all night in an effort to bring at least a laugh to Jake after his horrible breakup, and most of all she was tired of pretending that she wasn’t hopelessly in love with the damn blonde boy standing just inside with his dumb smile, his dumb laugh, and his dumb pink shirt with a broken heart on the chest that coincidentally was pulled right from her own sleeve. 

The night had started off so well, the bitter liquid in her cup giving her more courage to be openly affectionate with Brock as the night progressed. She thought back to an hour before, where they were standing here in almost the same spot, his hand firmly against her waist as she swore he was going to kiss her again, taking the risk and finally just being with each other, no matter what their friends thought. But he didn’t kiss her, and instead, she was met with not only a heartache that felt familiar to that night in January when Brock had let her go so easily but another type of heartache as she realized that it was Elias, one of her closest friends, who was encouraging Brock to move on with someone else. 

Olive heard the slider door open behind her, Brock’s footsteps almost too recognizable for her even though she didn’t turn around, another thing she was growing tired of. The truth was that ever since she knew what kissing him felt like, her mind couldn’t think of anything else. She had already locked away the hurt that she felt that day he dropped her hand at Elias’s comment. And maybe it wasn’t entirely fair to blame the whole problem on Elias, but it sure felt like her heart was stuck in limbo with Brock’s, waiting for the approval of someone that shouldn’t have ever made them have to choose in the first place. 

“Ollie-“ Brock started, his voice was soft and slow as the familiar nickname rolled off his lips. Olive had never been one for liking nicknames, she actually loved her name, but each time it came from Brock she found her stomach flipping and heart beating in her throat over the abridged version of Olive.

“I’m fine, Brock.” She said, still facing the water unable to turn to see him. She didn’t want to look at him, not because of any of his own actions but because it was all too much. Having him behind her, having just a taste of him and then dropping the entire plate on the floor where it sat longer than any five-second rule would allow, and the fact that he was right there on this stupid holiday that she was pretending not to care about was simply overwhelming her and making her heart bend past its breaking point.

“No you’re not, and neither am I.” He said as his voice was cracking with each word.

Olive turned around slowly and took another sip of the now slightly warm beer in her cup as she waited for Brock to say whatever he had come out there to say. She didn’t want to hear it because of how badly she was currently hurting, the jealousy that she had no real reason to even be feeling was creeping in quickly and the longer he stood there looking at her, the more she wanted to snap. 

“Will you please just talk to me, Ollie?” Brock tried once more as he took a step closer to the girl he was so crazy about. The girl that would stay up until 2 am sometimes reading, the girl who’s hair was always a mess and couldn’t see very far without her glasses, the girl who was by all means too smart for him, each day sending him words that he didn’t understand. Words that she knew that made her think of him, words that he found himself missing each day that passed without one, the last one being from that day in January. 

“I heard you, talking about that girl Elias wanted to set you up with. And it sucks, okay? It sucks that I feel this way, it sucks that I have to sit here and be with you in secret while our best friend brings some girl for you, God, Brock, how am I supposed to feel about it?” Brock’s heart absolutely crashed in his chest hearing Olive breakdown like that, her voice growing quieter and quieter as she continued, a trait that was so unlike Olive that it brought him down even further knowing he was the one involuntarily causing pain. Brock reached out to her, pulling her closer to his chest and for once he didn’t care who could have been watching them through the glass door. 

“Olive it’s you. It’s been you. I told him I wasn’t interested, and I almost told him about us, but then I just froze and all I could hear was him saying that at the cabin, and I didn’t know what to do. I want to be with you, but,” Brock couldn’t continue, because if he did he would have to admit out loud that he had made a choice. A choice that left the girl in front of him, the one he cared about more than he thought he could ever care about someone, hurt. A choice that would all but tell her that his priorities were with his friend, no matter how badly it hurt. 

“Why can’t we just tell him?” Olive sniffled into Brock’s chest, the haziness of the alcohol finally hitting her as she shivered slightly from the wind. Brock rubbed her back sadly and rested his chin on the top of her head. He hated that he knew Petey so well. He knew how stubborn he was, he knew how much he cared, but no matter how many times Brock almost broke down, he just couldn’t shake Petey’s words about how dating your friends is a disaster, and how it would ruin the entire dynamic of the friendship, from his head. 

Olive pulled back from Brock when he didn’t answer, the warmth she once felt from his comfort now turning cold as she connected what he couldn’t bring himself to say back to her question. She chugged what was left of her beer, raising it in a toast more to herself than him as the alcohol she wanted to rid her of her sadness hit her even harder. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Brock.” She said, turning from him and about to step inside, leaving him out in the cold and alone. She froze with her hand on the door handle, turning around to face him one last time before leaving the party that night. 

“Shattered: broken into many pieces,” She smiled sadly as she walked back inside, not bothering to see his reaction as she left, a scene that so closely resembled her entire outlook on life lately, words of affirmation scribbled on lists becoming nothing but seemingly every word in the English language to describe heartache as the replacement. At least now he would finally know how she felt. 

She wandered a bit closer to the water, taking a seat on the grass as she looked out at the darkness. She knew she would have to go back to the house eventually, with that being her place to crash for the night, and she also knew that Brock hadn’t done anything wrong. But she was tired, the new and exciting part of being together wearing off with the crash into the reality of what it actually all meant. 

Olive shifted slightly as she felt someone sit down next to her, surprise evident on her face as Jake sat down and handed her a bottle of water. He looked at her knowingly, a sad smile on his face that she could tell wasn’t from his own recently broken heart. 

“Olive, what’s really going on with you and Brock?” Jake tried, his voice soft and tentative as she sighed in response. Olive felt herself tearing up, unsure if the alcohol was what was causing her to react this way or just the feelings that had been building up so long under an umbrella of lies.

“He’s my boyfriend, and Elias doesn’t know,” She said, tears brimming her eyes at how shitty she felt admitting that outloud to someone. Olive didn’t know how she let it get this far. She loved Brock, and while she wasn't ready to admit that entirely to him, she had enjoyed being with him. But you can only lie for so long before it all rips apart, and the guilt of lying to her best friend was starting to eat her alive. 

“Do you love him?” Jake asked, his question blunt and to the point. Olive nodded softly, tears spilling down her cheeks. Jake wrapped an arm around his friend, letting her cry on his shoulder. 

“Petey adores you, I know he’s a stubborn little shit but, we all know you and Brock are happy. It’s so obvious, he’s in denial, sure, but I think he’ll come around,” Jake reassured her softly. Olive continued to cry for a few moments, wiping her eyes softly when Brock came around the corner, taking in the scene. 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Jake asked. Olive nodded and patted his knee in response, wiping her eyes once more as Jake got up and Brock took his place. She waited to say anything until Jake was almost back up to the porch, out of earshot from them.

“I’m really sorry, Olive. I should have done more to stop him. I hate seeing you upset, especially if I had any part in making it that way.” Brock frowned, grabbing her hand and lacing their fingers together softly. Olive sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder, looking out once more at the water before answering him. 

“It’s not your fault, Brock. We got ourselves into this mess by not telling him.” She sighed. 

“So are we okay?” Brock asked, his voice quiet and tentative. Olive leaned up and kissed him softly, nodding wordlessly before leaning her head back onto his shoulder. They needed to tell Elias, but she also needed a little while longer to process everything and decide just how to do it without upsetting her best friend. 

--------------

Brock had always been dismissive about love, never questioning that he was young and lived a life that most other people wouldn’t want or be able to understand and grow accustomed to. He didn’t spend his time daydreaming about the future, and marriage, and kids, he had everything he needed and knew that his time would come when it was meant to. But as he sat there in late April with his black tie around his neck and his white shirt slightly wrinkled from being unable to work an iron, he watched as one of his closest friends stood at the altar. The white flowers surrounding the archway in the gazebo and the simple symphony of the wedding march was playing, but his only thoughts were of the girl who was most likely sitting in her apartment, glassed perched on the top of her nose, probably reading something far too complicated for him to understand and he wondered why he hadn’t just taken the leap of faith to invite her here to sit beside him. 

“I think Bo is going to cry,” the voice beside him spoke softly, a fond yet teasing tone to it, and Brock suddenly was lifted out of his own thoughts and painfully reminded why he couldn’t be here with Olive. Because of his best friend sitting next to him, who had practically begged Brock not to develop any feelings for the girl that he was so helplessly already falling for, a secret that had been destroying him to keep. 

He laughed softly at his friend, not bothering to give a verbal response because he was almost terrified of any words that were to come out of his mouth when his mind was so concentrated on what Olive would look like walking down the aisle to him, a thought that had his hands shaking and his heart shattering because he knew it would never happen. He knew if he wasn’t careful, he’d let it slip to Petey just how in love he was falling with Olive, Petey’s way too smart and way too beautiful for himself best friend. 

Brock checked his watch repeatedly as he watched Bo and Holly make the rounds to thank everyone for being there, knowing that as soon as they got to him he could get out of there as quickly as possible. He was feeling trapped, his airways blocked and his feelings growing steadily and he needed to leave the environment where people were celebrating the very thing he had come to the realization that he wanted. His phone vibrated in his pocket, startling him a bit. He reached his hand down, pulling out the device and seeing the name of the girl he had been dancing around all night. 

Ollie :) 

Serendipity: the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for. 

He didn’t have time to overanalyze what that meant, Olive’s word of the day that she had sent him this time doing nothing to calm him down, because he saw the three little dots moving, an indication that she wasn’t done unknowingly strengthening the unbreakable grasp she had on his heart. 

This one reminds me of you and me :)

He stood there, looking at the grey text on his phone and slowly lifted the champagne to his lips, knowing that he needed at least three more of these to get through the rest of the night after reading Olive’s words. It was painful in a way that he didn’t understand, how someone could be just within an arm’s reach, who he knew felt the same way about him, and yet they couldn’t act on it. He didn’t get to hold her hand, or kiss her whenever he wanted, and that not so gentle reminder had him reaching for flute after flute of the golden liquid, hoping to forget.  

Brock paced back and forth as he wandered into his bedroom, both of his dogs’ feet padding across the carpet behind him. He took off his suit jacket and undid his tie, tossing them too carelessly onto his closet floor considering how nice they were. His mind was racing ever since he left Bo and Holly’s wedding, his heart doing flips in his chest as he tried to push Olive from his mind, not so gently reminding himself just why he couldn’t have her. 

The last two years of Brock’s life he had been so focussed on his future, his career, pushing any thoughts of a meaningful relationship so far back that he tricked himself into thinking he didn’t want anything. When he met Olive, all of his apprehensions about the idea of love were tossed carelessly out the window as his heart started driving down the highway toward her. But the problem was, every time he got to the border between himself and Olive, it was like his passport was no longer valid and entry into what would have been something beautiful was denied. 

The worst part about it was that he was now wondering if the border would always be closed. No matter how mutual the feelings between him and Olive were, Petey was always there in the back of their minds, and it was hard for him not to wonder just how long things could realistically last between them as long as it was in secret. 

He dropped himself into his bed, patting softly at the dark comforter to signal the dogs to come up. He ran a hand softly through his hair, champaign still causing a light fog to clutter his mind, nothing else clear to him aside from how he felt about Olive. He thought back to earlier in the evening, watching Bo and Holly get married and his mind drifted to her, something that should have scared him but didn’t. 

If Brock were to be honest with himself, he knew that he and Olive could have something great, something that had the potential to end in life together. But this wasn’t a movie, it wasn’t a whirlwind of love that he could let himself get into, even though unbeknownst to him, he and Olive were both slowly drifting there anyways. Before any sober thought could stop him, he reached toward his bedside table and grabbed his phone, pulling up Olive without giving himself time to second guess if it was a good idea or not.   

“One too many drinks there, huh, Brockadoodle?” Olive smiled into her phone, turning it on speaker and setting it gently on her bedside table as she crawled into bed. She knew things were going too far, she was getting too close to Brock, and for the first time in a long while, she didn’t know how to stop it. The feelings had already crossed the moat surrounding her heart, and they were standing there with axes picking apart the walls that acted as the last barrier between letting Brock have her completely, where everyone could see it. 

Brock felt himself calm down at the sound of Olive’s voice, soft through the phone. He let the next few words tumble out without fear of their repercussions. He had been thinking about her all night, so much so that if he didn’t get it off of his chest, the cavities of his heart might completely collapse. 

“I wanted to bring you tonight.” Brock started, words softer than his tone from before, a hint of emotion underneath them that Olive knew too well. “Brock..” she tried, unsure of how to console him when she had been thinking about being on his arm all night. Olive couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t hurt; she wasn’t there with him, feelings that she had no right feeling about someone who couldn't have taken her as his date anyways. She was starting to grow concerned for her well-being, wondering how far she and Brock could tiptoe around these feelings that seemed to get more and more complicated as the months passed. It should have been simple, they should have been able to be together, but sometimes what a person wants doesn’t line up with reality. 

“No, let me finish, please.” He sighed. Olive couldn’t see what he was doing, she could only hear the desperation in his voice. Brock laid in his bed, his dogs lovingly at his feet, and he should have been content. But the side of the bed next to him was nagging him, an emptiness that never bothered him before Olive. He ran a hand over his face, eyes slightly blurring from the overload of far too expensive champagne that he drank at the wedding, hoping to replace the empty feeling of her hand not in his with the glass instead. 

“I wanted you there, I wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked in your dress, and hold your hand during the ceremony. I wanted to have you there next to me, and I don’t know if it’s the dramatics of being at a wedding getting to my head, or if any of this even makes sense, but I just was watching Bo and Holly have their first dance and all I could think about was you.” Brock knew he was too much, the feelings he had been trying to keep at bay from someone who he was supposed to just be friends with, no matter how wrong it felt bubbling up like the champagne that he drank just hours before. 

Olive felt herself stop at his words, her labored breath filling the space as she waited for him to continue. She grabbed her phone, pulling it off the speaker as if the ghosts in her bedroom were listening anyways. 

“I want to kiss you no matter who sees us so badly, Olive. I think about it all the time.” 

Olive took her time, attempting to process the words that had just stumbled from his mouth. She focused on the tenor of his voice, the voice that she loved to listen to talk about anything and everything and here it was, whispering words through an over priced cell phone that was pressed tightly to her ear as she held it in her hands. She couldn’t breathe, the weight of what he had just said stunning her so badly that all she could do was breathe softly, willing herself to answer him. She never had time to think about the consequences of what they were doing, instead focussing on the good things about being together even if it was in secret. As Brock drunkenly told her these things, her heart filled with guilt over it all, wondering how they could feasibly continue this for much longer, no matter how much that realization cut her. 

“Olive?” Brock whispered, wondering if he had gone too far. Olive hates the uncertainty in his voice but she hated even more that her silence was the cause of it.

“I’m here, Brock,” was all she could manage in that moment. She heard him softly sigh in the background then some shuffling on the other end. 

“Do you feel it too? Or am I alone here?” 

“I feel it too, Brock. You know I do.” 

--------------

“I don’t understand why you didn’t want to bring a date, you were the only one there without one” Petey shrugged toward Brock, referring to the Bo and Holly’s wedding that had occurred just days prior. 

Brock was practically fuming at his friend whom he loved dearly but could be so completely dense. He didn’t think Elias was stupid, but how could he really be asking Brock that question when he had to have known how badly Brock wanted to bring Olive the wedding. He was trying to calm himself down, to not let his feelings get the best of him, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how simple this all could be if Petey could just get over his damn stubbornness about Olive and Brock dating.

“Well, I probably would have had a date if you hadn’t have insisted I stay socially distanced with Ollie at all fucking times,” he snapped at his friend. He didn’t look at Petey’s reaction as he walked into the kitchen to catch his breath, replacing his empty beer bottle with a fresh one from the fridge, opening it quickly and drinking a large portion of it. 

Elias sat there with a look of apprehension and annoyance on his face, still not understanding why his requests were making him out to be the bad guy. Brock and Olive were friends, the group dynamic was great, why did it have to be more when it was fine already? 

“You guys are just friends,” Petey waived him off and Brock swore he felt his eye twitching with how irritated he was growing. 

“We’re not just fucking friends, we were practically together until you came in with your ‘I’m so glad you’re not dating’ bullshit and we stopped,” he spat out. Brock was tired of the secrets, he was tired of keeping his feelings for Olive to himself, and he was tired of Petey dictating his love life when he should just be happy for him. 

Petey’s mouth hung open slightly in shock at Brock’s outburst. The words hung over him as he went through what Brock could be talking about, anger bubbling up in him at the idea of Brock and Olive, his two closest friends, hooking up behind his back.

“Did you sleep with Olive?” His eyes narrowed at Brock. 

“No, but we kissed. And, fuck Petey I really like her, and she really likes me. I don’t understand why you’re so weird about it and why you can’t just be happy for us. I’d be happy for you,” Brock groaned, leaning slightly on the counter as he finished his beer, shaking his head slightly. In a weird way it felt good to get some of it out, even if most of what he was saying was a lie. They didn’t just kiss, they had been together for months at this point and here he was lying to his best friend about it, hoping that maybe if he expressed his frustrations enough that Petey would come around and they could just be together in front of him. 

“Well why does it have to be Olive?” Petey asked. Brock couldn’t believe his friend, and he was one minute from asking him to leave because he was making him so frustrated at the situation. In Brock’s mind this was simple, but Petey had this way of making things so complicated simply because he didn’t want things to be awkward between everyone. 

“I don’t know, Petey. I can’t help how I feel. I wish you’d just come around because this sucks for both of us. I’m unhappy, she’s unhappy. I want to be with her man, she’s everything I could ever want. You know who I call after every game? Olive. You know who knows everything about my family? Olive. She’s even met them, she met my dad, Petey and he fucking loved her! He still asks about her. I don’t even care about other girls, I haven’t since I met her. I just want her.”

“So you’re in love with her then?” Petey inquired, deciding to ignore everything else that Brock had just said. Brock paused, new beer in his hand as he had almost a stare down with his friend. He took a moment to go through his options, knowing that as soon as Petey said that he knew it was true. He did love Olive, and he might not have realized it but as soon as the words left Petey’s mouth he knew. He knew that everything had been building with Olive, she had written her way into his heart and he was a willing participant, accepting her words and rewriting them with his own pen. Brock may not have been an avid reader, but Olive was the best book he’d ever read. 

“Yeah, Petey, I do.” He admitted, voice softening, and heart breaking slightly because he wasn’t sure if that would even make a difference at this point. 

“Oh.” Was all that Petey replied, his eyes cast down and guilt pooling in his stomach. 

Petey thought about what Brock had said for days, he couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that he was the reason for their unhappiness. He also felt a bit dense for not seeing the signs that they had something developing between them. He spent the next few days avoiding Brock as much as he could. He showed up to practice after he knew Brock would be on the ice, and he stayed until he knew Brock had left, with Brock making no effort to talk to him either. It wasn’t just Brock he avoided though, as he carefully dodged all of Olive’s texts and phone calls, to the point where each time his phone rang he flinched, wondering if it would be one of them. 

Brock knew Elias was ignoring him, but he honestly didn’t care anymore. He didn’t tell Olive about the argument he had with Petey, instead he focussed on being a support system for her as she worked through studying for her finals. He was almost thankful for her being busy, it was giving him time to think and hopefully work through everything with Petey so that by the time she was done, they could finally be together and have Petey okay with it all. 

Brock picked up the small notebook, the leather slightly worn under his fingers and the binding not perfect from being handmade. He remembered when Olive gave this to him. He remembered everything about her that day, how she insisted he wait to open it until she left with a soft blush on her cheeks, how she looked at his nephew with a look in her eyes that made him practically want to marry her right there, and how his dad adored her even after meeting her for not even five minutes. He remembers opening the book and nearly crying at her words, every word that she had given him before. It was something that was so simple yet said so much at the time that he wasn’t able to read until now. He was in love with Olive, and he was ready to tell her that and stop hiding it. 

As Brock was flipping through the worn pages, some of them with tea stains, some with scribbled out words, a small folded up piece of paper fell to the ground. He knew that he missed it the first time he looked through this book, and he slowly reached down to grab it from the floor. He held the piece of scratch paper up, reading each word and definition carefully, part of him feeling guilty for reading something that seemed personal, even if it had his own name on it. He smiled at each word, fondly appreciating Olive’s anecdotal word of the day that she would give him without fail, everyday. His eyes were caught on the last word, sending him into a headspace that hadn’t felt this clear in a long time.

Enamored: in love. 

He read and re-read that word over and over again, his heart pounding thinking about her saying this to him. Suddenly all of the words over the last few months became clear to him, the realization of each one being her way at telling him that she loved him, without having to actually say it. It all made sense now, and Brock didn’t care about Petey’s words anymore, he didn’t care that Olive might hurt him, because he knew that it wasn’t true. Olive wasn’t incapable of giving her heart to someone, she had already given it to him in the way that she knew best, through words. He didn’t care what anyone else thought anymore, he was going to be with Olive fully, no matter what Petey had to say about it. 

Across town, Olive set her glass carefully on the coffee table as she heard someone knocking on her front door. Elias was sitting still on the couch, only lifting his head up slightly when he heard the knock. Olive just shrugged her shoulders and walked over to her front door, peeking through the peephole only to be met with confusion by what she saw. 

“Who is it?” Elias inquired, his hand still scrolling through his phone absentmindedly. 

Olive didn’t answer her friend, instead, she opened the door to reveal a floral delivery man who had a cart full of what she assumed was more flowers than any regular person needed. Olive stared at the man for a moment, thoughts racing through her mind as she tried to come up with an excuse about the flowers that she could already guess were from Brock. Her stomach bubbled with anxiety as she carefully signed her name on the packing slip, stepping aside to let the man carry not one, but twelve bouquets into her kitchen. 

Elias looked up in confusion, setting his phone down on the coffee table and wandering up to the counter toward a bouquet that had a card. Olive panicked, it was like time was moving at a glacial pace, and she was stuck in the pathway between the delivery man and Elias, knowing that her friend was going to get to the card that was likely from his best friend first. 

“Do you have a boyfriend you haven’t told me about?” Elias teased, grabbing the card in his hands and opening it. Part of him was hoping the answer would be yes, and that it would be someone other than Brock but the other part of him was starting to realize he could no longer live in a perpetual state of denial when it came to his two friends. It normally wouldn’t have been weird, and Olive wouldn’t have minded that her friend saw what was on that card if the circumstances were any different. She felt helpless as she saw Elias’s smirk turn into a frown as he read whatever was written, and all hopes of the flowers somehow not being from the boy she had grown so fond of dissipated with his frown. 

Olive watched Elias carefully as he set the card down, his lips slightly pursed while he looked at her. She felt her chest caving in, preparing herself for him to be furious with her. She and Brock had completely crossed the line of exactly what her best friend standing in front of her had asked her not to, and seeing the way he frowned at the card broke her in a way she didn’t think was possible.

Olive never wanted to hurt Elias, and her intentions that night so many months ago at the bar were to never get involved with Brock. But as she had come to realize, intentions don’t matter when the outcome hurts someone and seeing Elias’s somber expression had her mind reeling with regret. 

Elias just shook his head, walking slowly back to the couch where he sat back down, the silence in the room was noticeable, and Olive found herself realizing just how badly she had messed things up. Olive glanced at the flowers, sighing softly at the card that was resting on the counter, Brock’s handwriting visible from where she was standing. 

“You should read it,” she heard from behind her. Elias’s voice was soft and sincere, an emotion present that she wasn’t able to read. She looked from the card back to her friend, willing herself to read what Brock had written for her.

I’m enamored with you, Ollie.

B. 

Olive felt her eyes well up with tears at his words, running her fingers softly over the ink on the card before setting it back down on the counter. 

“Elias…” she tried, unable to stop her voice from shaking.

“How long have you and Brock been together?” He asked, his voice soft but steady, almost no emotion behind it, which somehow made everything feel worse. Elias was never cold toward her, in all the years they had known each other, nothing had ever come between them. But now, with everything that her heart was feeling toward his best friend, she felt like she was sitting in a room screaming, with the house on fire around her as she watched each relationship burst into flames around her. 

“Since February” was all she managed to say, her body frozen in place as she studied his face for any sort of reaction that she could read. There was no point in lying to him anymore, it was time to face the reality of the situation and confess to Elias what was going on. He cared about Brock and Olive, and she could only hope that by seeing how happy they were together that he would be happy for them. 

“So you both have just been lying to everyone this whole time.” There it was, the coldness in his voice that she was dreading, her eyes immediately looking away from his. She knew he was mad, and to be honest, he had every right to be because even if she and Brock weren’t together, they were very clearly and undeniably something more than friends, a confirmation that she could no longer hide from or deny. 

“It’s not like that, it's just, I don’t know Elias. I didn’t mean for it to happen, and then it did and you were just so against it. We were going to tell you, when we kissed in January and then you just made that comment and we decided to stop. But, I don’t know Elias.” Olive sighed, looking over at her friend with tears in her eyes, desperately trying to convey to him what she was feeling even though the words themselves weren’t coming out. She had never seen him look so disappointed toward her, something that she hated she was the cause of. 

“You love him,” Elias nodded and Olive froze. She knew she loved Brock, and seeing his note meant that he loved her back, something that she had spent years longing to find but convincing herself that she didn’t need. Brock had come into her life and completely checked off every cliche list of things as he swept her off of her feet, crashing her heart into his in a way that had for so long been this secret that they couldn’t admit to each other or anyone else. All she could do in that moment was look at Elias with a glint in her eye and an open heart and nod, confirming his observations that she did indeed, love his charming, goofy, wonderful best friend, Brock Boeser. 

Elias watched his best friend from across the room, mixed emotions in his heart, and various thoughts racing through his mind. He wanted Olive and Brock to be happy, he loved both of them, but he couldn’t shake the sense of hurt he felt knowing it had all been behind his back. He also knew that his own warnings had been what was keeping them from being together, and as he looked at Olive with her heart on her sleeve, he felt the guilt rising at being the one responsible for preventing her own happiness. 

“I’m sorry,” Elias shook his head, trying to find the words to say to his friend that would make up for this mess, the mess that he was ultimately the cause of for his own selfish reasoning. Elias paused for a moment, looking over at Olive before sighing softly.

“I’m glad he didn’t listen to me, though. I know I fucked it up, but I’m happy that you both are happy,” He said. Olive tilted her head slightly at him, a curious expression on her face at his words.

“What do you mean?” She replied. 

“I told him you’d crush him.” Elias said. It was so quiet that Olive almost didn’t think she heard him correctly. She didn’t think she concretely understood the words that just came from his lips, because the Elias she knew would never say those things about someone that he cared about and when it hit her that he didn’t want them to be together so badly that he would say something like that to Brock, she felt the anger rise in her stomach. 

“God, Elias. You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to say those things about me,” Olive said. She stood up from the couch and began to pace back and forth between her couch and the kitchen. Her mind was reeling, and all she wanted to do was kick Elias out and not speak to him ever again. Olive felt like a fool for not seeing that this was how her best friend truly thought of her, as someone who was only capable of causing heartache to others. 

“You think I’m not capable of love, that I’m just some bookworm living in her own head about the idea of love. Maybe that was true back then, but at least I tried. I let Brock into my heart in the only ways I knew how, falling in love with him yet stopping myself because of you. I spent all this time not wanting to come between you and it turns out you sold me out to him as someone he should never love, because people who have a harder time I guess aren’t capable of it at all, right?” 

“Olive, I didn’t-“ Olive cut him off harshly.

“It doesn’t matter, you still said it. You’re my best friend, Elias, but I’m clearly not yours.” The tears were steadily flowing down her cheeks and her head was starting to pound from everything that was happening. She hated that it was blowing up in this way. She hated that her heart was breaking from potentially losing one of the best friends she ever had, but she mostly hated that he ultimately was right in his assumptions, because she didn’t see how her and Brock could continue to be together now that the truth was out. 

Elias knew he fucked up. He knew his mistakes had cost two of the people he cared most about heartache, and while he didn’t know that Brock had said that to Olive until she threw it in his face, he knew that there was no way his friend didn’t mean it. Brock was absolutely in love with Olive, the kind of love that you think only exists written on pages for others to live through vicariously, and he knew for all the months he had been keeping them apart for his own selfish reasons, he needed to fix it.

“Do you want to tell me about him?” Elias smiled, trying his best to show her that he was sorry and that he regretted what he had done. Elias was never good with words, he overthought everything that ran through his head and it more often than not ended with feelings unsaid. He didn’t want to hurt Brock or Olive, and he let his mind swindle him into thinking that if they were together it would somehow ruin the dynamic of their friend group. He knew it was selfish, and it was long overdue that Elias did something selfless instead. 

Olive looked over at her friend, shocked a bit by his change in demeanor. She bit her lip softly, unsure of how to react to his question because she did want to talk about Brock. She had been wanting to tell Elias for months just how happy his best friend made her feel, how she had never thought anyone would understand her in the ways that he had so easily. 

“Elias, that’s not going to fix it.” She whispered. 

“I want to hear about it, I want you to be happy Olive,” Elias said, softly nodding towards the space next to him on the couch. As Olive was about to start telling Elias everything, the familiar sound of her FaceTime ringtone started going off. She glanced toward her phone that was sitting in front of Elias on the coffee table, seeing Brock’s name and photo lighting up the screen. She shook her head slightly at Brock’s timing but then furrowed her brow at Elias’s soft reaction to seeing the name on the screen. 

Elias picked up the phone, handing it over to Olive as she stared at it ringing in her hands, letting the call lapse. She unlocked her phone and carefully texted the boy in question, letting him know she would call him back in a while before setting the device screen down onto the table. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” She said, putting her head in her hands. 

“Well, how did it start?” Elias tried, a genuine soft smile on his face as he encouraged Olive to start speaking. Olive recounted everything to Elias, feeling the weight of secrecy lifting from her chest. It felt good to share these things with him, to tell him the little things over the past few months that she had wanted to share with him about Brock. 

“I do love him, Elias, and I’m sorry that things happened this way and I’m sorry we didn’t tell you but, I don’t want to hide it anymore. It’s not fair.” Olive cried, her voice shaking slightly from the emotions that she was feeling. That was her first time admitting those feelings about Brock out loud and she hated that these were the circumstances that brought them on. 

“You should go tell him, Ollie.” Petey smiled, getting up and grabbing his coat so that she could leave. Olive watched carefully as he wandered toward the door,

“You spent so long keeping this from me, trying to keep me comfortable when you shouldn’t have needed to. You’re my best friend and I’m sorry. But, you should go to him, tell him how you feel. He’s more important than us right now,” Elias said as he opened her front door and stepped out. 

It took Olive all but five minutes to throw on her shoes and grab her keys. Her hair was a mess, her head hurt from crying and she felt like a wreck, but none of it mattered. None of it phased her as she climbed into her car and thought about how she was going to tell Brock that she loved him for the first time, and that they didn’t have to hide things anymore. 

Brock opened the door and Olive stood there in front of him. Her eyes brimmed with tears that he could see through the rims of her glasses, strands of her hair were falling out of the messy ponytail that sat at the nape of her neck. He looked down to her hands, seeing the card sitting in her fingers, the chipped nail polish a sign that she had been upset. 

“Olive,” he started, and she cut him off, waving the card up to eye level as she spoke.

“Did you mean this?” She asked, her voice cracking and fresh tears falling down her cheeks. She bit her lip as she waited for a response, her own emotions overflowing with each second that ticked by. Olive was by all accounts no stranger to the idea of love, but rather she was constantly a bystander in the stories that depicted the tragedies and greatness of it all. But here she was, standing in front of the first boy she ever truly loved, hoping that for once she wouldn’t be a bystander. 

“Of course I did,” Brock said, reaching out to grab her hands softly as he led her inside and closed the door. The dogs ran to Olive’s side, another reminder of one of the many things he loved about her coming into view as she knelt down and greeted them, the first smile he had seen from her since she knocked at his door. 

“Then why didn’t you say it instead of sending it in a card?” She asked.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot.” Olive scoffed at his sentence and Brock panicked, realizing he picked the wrong choice of words to convey how he felt. 

“Olive, I’ve been in love with you for months, since New Year’s Eve when you spilled a bottle of champagne all over your dress. I almost told you after Bo’s wedding when I called you in the middle of the night and told you I wanted to kiss you like a drunk idiot. You’re my favorite person, and nothing involving stupid petey and his stupid fucking rule changes that. I don’t care about petey I don’t care if he’s mad, I just want you, Olive, if you’ll have me” Brock was laying it out as clearly as his could, the words rushing from his mouth as he desperately reached out trying to hang onto the hope that what he and Olive had wasn’t lost because of his mistake. 

Olive walked to Brock slowly, tears still rolling down her cheeks at the overwhelming emotions she was walking through. Each step she took felt like another word scribbled down in her notebook, another checkbox filled about the boy that consumed almost all of her thoughts. He was everywhere around her, in her heart and mind, in her readings and coursework, and in that little blue notebook that used to be about her life but was now filled with words, each one a synonym for how much she loved Brock. 

Olive reached her hands up to Brock’s cheeks, his slightly grown out beard course against her hands in the best way as she pulled his head down to hers, crashing her lips to his for the first time since January. It was different this time, this kiss was harsher, deeper, and this time she knew that when she let him go he wouldn’t actually be going anywhere, they could be happy. 

Brock reacted instantly to the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist and pushing her back to the wall. When they pulled apart they both were breathless, Olive’s lips tinted a slightly darker shade as she put one hand on his chest, feeling the best of his heart. 

“I love you, Olive. That’s yours.” He looked down to his chest then back at her, wiping some of her tears away as he held her tightly. 

“I feel like we’ve wasted so much time,” Olive sniffled, wiping her eyes but smiling. Brock was hers, and it felt like she had been waiting a lifetime for him. To have him right there but just out of reach for months had more than taken its toll, but the weight that was slowly evaporating from her shoulders was freeing. She had Brock, she hadn’t lost her best friend, and she felt like she was no longer floating around waiting for the idea of love to catch her. It had, and it was standing in front of her, hands on her hips, his heart beating under her own hands. 

“But we’re here now.” Brock smiled, leaning down to kiss her once more. He couldn’t believe this was happening and that he could be with Olive wholly. He didn’t even know if Petey knew she was here but he didn’t care. He was tired of letting a stupid rule dictate their happiness, and Petey would just have to get over it if he was mad still because he had no intentions of letting Olive slip through his fingers again. 

“I have one last word for you, or phrase really,” Olive said as she tugged softly on Brock’s hair with one hand, the other still firmly pressed over his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her fingertips. He nodded at her, smiling fondly while he waited for her to continue.

“Unapologetically in love, which I think needs no definition,” she grinned, watching as Brock smiled once more, this time against her lips as he kissed her again. His hands planted firmly on her hips, sliding his fingertips just underneath her sweater to feel her soft skin as the kiss deepened, something that was long overdue for the both of them. His hands slid up further, fingertips dancing along the skin just underneath her bra. 

“Brock,” Olive whined against his lips, shifting her body even closer to his.

“Yeah?” He murmured, his head dipping to her neck, pressing soft, but open kisses there, his breath hot on her throat.

“Bed,” she demanded, not having to tell Brock twice as he pulled his hands from her sweater, lacing his fingers through hers to lead her back into his bedroom. 

Everything slowed down as Olive started pulling off her sweater, with Brock kissing her firmly as his hands reached down to the top of her leggings, fingertips on fire at the touch of her skin. She tugged on the hem of his shirt, breaking apart to pull it over his head and then leaning back down onto the bed. Brock hovered above her as they kissed again.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Olive,” He whispered as he looked at her. They had been together before, but seeing her in his bed, in front of him, and being able to tell her that he loved her made everything feel different and  he was ready to savour every second of it. He peppered kisses all down her neck and chest as his hands wandered down her body, slowly sliding the leggings off as she picked up her hips. 

Sex with Brock had always been good, but something about the way it felt with his hands on her this time, and they way he knew every dip and inch of her body, knowing that he loved her made it that much better. Olive had never been one to put that much weight into sex, it was something that she enjoyed but never let herself get attached to the person she was with. This felt different, his was the person that she was completely in love with, and everything felt like it had fallen into place as she wrapped her legs around him while he moved. She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him as she felt herself getting close underneath him. 

Brock slipped out of her as they both finished, slightly out of breath as he threw on sweats while he walked to the bathroom, returning with a warm towel and one of his shirts for Olive to wear as he helped her clean up. He kissed her forehead softly as he handed her the shirt, climbing back into bed as she put it on and retreated into the bathroom, returning a few moments later with a lazy but beautiful smile on her face. 

Olive crawled into bed and rested her hand softly on Brock’s bare chest, her head falling so that it was leaning against his shoulder, the words from minutes before hanging over her head, replaying in her mind as she felt her cheeks heat up from the thoughts of him consuming her. She could hear the rain that was now coming down outside, and the room was getting dark from the sun beginning to set. 

Brock placed a kiss to her head, her hair unruly from his hand that had been in it only moments prior. He thought about how beautiful she looked in that moment, a soft smile on her lips that were slightly puffed up from kissing, cheeks still flushed. She looked up at him, her smile growing in the moment.

“Can I tell you I love you again?” She said, voice quiet and unsure, something that Brock noticed. Olive was loud and carefree, she didn’t question her feelings or emotions unless they meant something to her. Brock knew how she felt because he had felt that way about her for months now. It was out in the open, and he wanted nothing more than to tell the girl he loved just how much he loved her all the time and hear it back.

“You can tell me you love me anytime you want, Olive.” He said, eyes focussed on her as her cheeks heated up even more. He grabbed her hand that was on his chest and thread his fingers through hers as he adjusted his body to hover over hers, pressing his lips firmly to Olive’s once more that afternoon. 

“I love you, Brockadoodle,” Olive smirked, causing Brock to laugh softly as he hung his head into her neck, his hand squeezing hers gently.

“I love you too, Ollie.” 

--------------

Days turned into weeks as things shifted into a new normal. Brock and Olive were finally together, completely out in the open for everyone to see. Elias had apologized and fixed things with the both of them, missing his friends and feeling awful that he had unintentionally hurt them for so long. It was now summer and Olive had just gotten back from spending a time in Minnesota with Brock, meeting his family officially as his girlfriend. She felt at ease for the first time in almost a year, she had her friends, she had Brock and now she was starting summer classes to help knock how more of her graduate degree. 

Olive wandered around the second floor of the library with a cold coffee in her hands. She was growing slightly impatient as she looked around for an empty table, groaning internally about why there didn’t seem to be any open spots this time of the year. It was early July, and no one usually took summer classes. She felt her gaze settle on a pretty redhead as she came up with an alternate plan, knowing that she needed to be in the library to focus or she would end up on FaceTime stupidly smiling at her boyfriend much before their scheduled time to talk that night. 

She walked quickly over to the table, the pretty redheaded girl looking up at her wide eyed as she stood across from her.

“Can I sit here? I promise I’ll be quiet and I have snacks I can offer as bribery,” Olive smiled, putting on what she hoped was her friendliest face as the girl looked at her inquisitively. 

“Uhm, sure,” she nodded slightly before settling back into her book. 

Olive sat down and carefully started pulling her materials from her bag. She was doing her best to be quiet, not wanting to disturb the pretty girl in front of her. She let her eyes slip up and connect awkwardly with hers. 

“I’m Olive,” she smiled, trying again to break the ice in hopes that it truly was okay that she was sitting here.

“Autumn,” the girl replied. 

Olive continued arranging her things, combing through her notebook for the page where she left off so that she could resume her reading notes. Autumn watched her carefully as she did so, seeing Olive’s egregious amount of sticky notes with black ink scribbled all over them. She looked over at the book that Olive pulled out, more sticky notes visible from the sides of it. Autumn looked down in front of her, nothing there except for a pen and the short bullet points scribbled on her own arm and she immediately felt the contrast between them. When she looked back up, she noticed that Olive was now holding the same book that she was currently sitting with. 

“Are you in the contemporary poetry writing class too?” Olive looked up at Autumn, her small voice surprising her as she looked over at the book the redhead was currently holding in her hands. She hadn’t yet been to the class, having missed the first week of summer courses because she went home with Brock to meet his family properly, so she couldn’t have seen Autumn before. 

“Yeah, are you?” She asked, a friendly tone in her voice. 

“Mhm, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you, it’s a pretty small class,” Autumn was surprised at how forward she was being, she wasn’t normally one to be talkative with people she didn’t know. But she was new to Vancouver, and finding common ground with someone who had at least given her the impression that she was nice might not be a bad idea. She had been so excited to move here for school, escaping her hellish small town where everyone pathetically needed to one up each other with some trivial small town mindset. She hated how no one there seemed to want to leave, even though every last one of her peers from home were shallow minded and would do anything to cure some of the boredom that came from never leaving. 

‘Oh, no I missed last week. I was in Minnesota with my boyfriend,” Olive smiled, thinking to herself about Brock and how it had only been a few days and she missed him. Her time in Minnesota was short but sweet. Brock’s family was incredibly important to him and she knew how close they were, so meeting them formally and as his girlfriend instead of just in passing had been nerve racking. Brock could ignore Elias’s now non-existent objections, but if his family didn’t like her she knew that it would be a deal breaker for them. 

“Oh, is he from there?” Autumn asked, setting her book down. She could see on Olive’s face how much she lit up at the mention of this boy she was with. She was doing her best to not be shy, to try and make conversation with Olive and hopefully at least have a study partner for their shared class. Autumn was never great at making friends, her thoughts were often internal and she was quiet, and she was normally okay with that. She was an observer and liked to take in the world around her with her own thoughts, coming up with backstories for strangers in her head. But something about Olive was inviting, and she found herself wanting to hear her instead of imagining her story. 

“Yeah, but he lives here for work. He’ll be back in a few weeks though. Hey, you should come out with us. He and our friend Elias have this dive bar night tradition when they get back in town. The bar they pick is usually terrible, but the drinks are cheap and the company is great. 

Autumn was caught off guard at the invitation, but found herself wanting to accept anyways.

“Okay,” she smiled, picking her book up once more and beginning to read. 

Brock had only been back home in Minnesota for a few weeks, but he found himself counting down the days until he could go back to Vancouver. Normally he loved going home, spending everyday on the lake and with his family. But this year it was different, this year he had someone waiting for him in Vancouver, and while he loved being home he knew that his heart was nestled into that small brick studio apartment, tucked safely right on the kitchen table next to a days old mug of coffee and a list that was probably far too scattered for him to even understand, Olive guarding it safely as she worked on the latest project or deadline she had to meet. 

One thing that had been getting him moderately through was their nightly calls, always at the same time, and always ending with both of them falling asleep together over FaceTime. Technology had given them an avenue to still be together, even if it wasn’t physically. 

“I’m so ready for you and the dogs to be back, I feel like I’m going insane here in my apartment now that summer term ended and you’re not here,” Olive smiles into her phone, Brock looking back at her fondly. He had just spent the afternoon on the lake, and his nose was slightly burnt, something that Olive teased him about. Truth be told, he couldn’t wait to be back either, this time for different reasons than the previous years. This year he had someone to come back to, and all he wanted to do was get back into the city and back with his girl. 

“Do you miss me or just the dogs?” He laughed, flipping the camera to show both Coolie and Milo at his feet. 

“Mostly them, but I do miss you too. Oh, speaking of, can I invite someone to dive bar night? I found a place too,” Olive asked as Brock flipped the phone back so that he was showing, now running a hand through his slightly damp hair. 

“Sure? You have a new boyfriend you’re not telling me about?” He joked. 

“No, but I met this girl that I think Elias would like. Brock, she’s like so pretty. Like so absolutely gorgeous, way prettier than Elias and he’s pretty. She’s a redhead though, does he even like redheads? I also kind of already invited her, so if you say no well then that’s tough shit for you,” She started rambling about Autumn, the girl who she had quickly become nearly best friends with in the short time that they had known each other. 

“God Brock, they’d be perfect. They both think too much, it’ll be great. Elias will probably hate her clothes but he can get over that. Did I mention she’s absolutely stunning?” Olive added. 

“Oh my god,” Brock laughed at Olive on his screen, “She’s not prettier than me right? Not going to leave me and build a little bookshop somewhere with her? He joked. 

“I mean if Elias doesn’t go for her, it’s not a bad idea, maybe I should ask her…” Olive trailed off. 

“You’re not even bi, calm down.” Brock teased.

“Sexuality is fluid Brockadoodle, especially when it’s pretty girls who read. Unlike you, who does not.” 

“Petey doesn’t read either!” Brock retorted. 

“Look, all men have flaws. You and Elias just happen to have the same one. If I can deal with it, so can Autumn,” Olive teased as she adjusted her glasses on her nose, taking her pen and scribbling down a few notes. Brock just rolled his eyes slightly, a fond smile on his face as he watched Olive get excited over the idea of playing matchmaker. 

‘I’m kidding, honey. But, I really think that her and Elias would be a pretty couple, as I mentioned, they both think too much.” 

“Maybe we shouldn’t meddle,” Brock tried, not wanting to put them in the middle of something involving Petey again. 

“Listen, I’m trying to help our friends find happiness, this is not the same thing as what happened to us. So, can I bring her to dive bar night?” Olive was set in her mind, Autumn had quickly become one of her best friends and she wanted her to meet the other people in her life that had helped make the last year feel full, and if she could help two of her friends potentially find the love that her and Brock had found, she absolutely wanted to do it. Autumn and Elias both deserved happiness and love, and she couldn’t help but keep adding things to her lists of reasons about why they were almost a perfect match as she thought about setting them up more and more. 

“Of course, I mean I’d love to meet this girl you’re going to run away and start a bookshop with,” Brock teased. He genuinely did want to meet Autumn. He loved hearing Olive get excited about anything, and he was more than happy to add someone else into the small group of friends that he had in Vancouver. 

“Mhm, you don’t think Elias will be mad right? You know how he is about new people, but I think he’d really like her.” Olive said, internally groaning about how selective Elias was about who he spent his time with. It’s not that he was mean, or rude, but he took a while to warm up to new faces. Even when they had become friends, she was so sure he didn’t like her for weeks until they bonded over some obscure European grocery store in East Vancouver.

“He’ll be fine,” Brock shrugged. 

--------------

A few weeks later, Brock found himself settling back into Vancouver, a familiar calm presence resonating in him as he adjusted back into the routine. This time was different though, because he was happy to be back for new reasons this year, one of which was standing in his ensuite bathroom getting ready for the annual dive bar night experience that had become one of his favorite traditions since moving to Vancouver. 

“Brock, where’s my lipstick? I swear I left one here last time,” Olive called from the ensuite as she dug through the drawer of her things that had found a home in his bathroom. There were signs of her everywhere in his condo, and Brock had been steadily dropping hints for weeks about her just moving in. 

Brock came into the ensuite, gently placing his hand on her waist as he leaned around her to pull the lipstick from his drawer. He smirked slightly as she took it from his hands. He made no move to change positions as he watched her swipe the signature crimson over her lips and fix her hair. 

“You know you wouldn’t have to have duplicates if you just moved in, Ollie,” he said as he kissed her neck softly and tightened his grip on her waist. Olive turned her body into his to face him, lifting her hand to thread her fingers through his hair softly. The idea sounded amazing to her and she couldn’t in good faith argue that it was a bad idea when she knew that she would be spending more time here than her own apartment now that he was back. It also made her heart flutter, knowing that he was serious about her in the ways that she was serious about him. But, she also had her apprehensions, and didn’t want to rush into something too soon. 

“My lease is up in December, let’s revisit then, yeah?” She smiled, thinking he would be okay with the compromise. Brock kissed her in response. 

“So, that’s a yes just not yet, right?” He smirked. 

“We’ll talk in November,” she laughed as she pulled herself away from him, fixing her slightly smudged lipstick. Her phone buzzed with a text from Autumn, letting her know that she was on her way to the bar to meet everyone.

“Come on, you’re always late!” She teased, walking out of the bathroom with Brock on her heels. 

“Yeah, don’t think that’s me.” He laughed as he grabbed his keys.  

Olive reflected back on the last time she walked through these bar doors, she was with Elias and was looking forward to meeting his best friend. She had no idea that by walking into the shitty dive bar in East Vancouver that night that she would meet someone who would completely engulf her with a type of love that she only knew from books and dreams. She didn’t know that the blonde boy, who was slightly sunburnt and bold enough to wear Birkenstocks to a bar would be the one that she was walking in with just a year later. Brock reached his hand down and he laced his fingers with hers, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple before they got to the entrance. 

“Love you, Ollie.” He said, a wave of nostalgia from the last year hitting him as they got closer. Last year he watched as Olive walked into the bar with her red lips and messy hair and this year he was the one that got to walk in holding her hand. To anyone else it would be something straight out of a terrible Hallmark card that you get for Valentine’s Day, but to Brock it was the truth, he did feel lucky. All of the time spent, all of the drama had been worth it to him because that stuff is inconsequential when you know you want to be with someone.

Olive looked up at him and tugged on his hand slightly as she leaned up to kiss him properly, her red lipstick smudging slightly. She took her other hand and wiped it from his lips quickly, smiles on both of their faces. 

“Love you, Brockadoodle. Now, let’s see if we can help Elias fall in love.” 

#brock boeser imagine #brock boeser fic #brock boeser story #canucks story #canucks imagine #nhl fic #brock boeser

[alfredosauce50]

would you be down to do 2p china hc’s? im very curious on how you characterize him!

I’m down! I’m guessing you figured I had my own interpretation of the guy after I answered an ask saying I’d write for him. I really like 2p! China as a character, but I have to say, I haven’t properly written for him before. Nevertheless, I’ll give you my thoughts on him as a person!

2p! China Headcanons

Zao’s appearance doesn’t give away much of his personality. He’s got a bit of a baby face, and he has a sociable and pleasant demeanor for the most part. So if you didn’t know him well enough to see past those traits, you would be surprised at how shady he can be.

Appearance

Like his 1p counterpart, his dark brown hair goes past his shoulders and is tied back in a low ponytail. It’s pretty thin too, so it stays flat against his back. But that’s what makes it look so good. He isn’t the tallest guy out there, as he stands around 170cm or 5′7″. Doesn’t mean you can easily take him out in a fight, though. He’s quite slender, but he’s muscular and knows a few martial arts to boot.

He has a lot of tattoos, and he doesn’t try to hide them. He has dragons curling down his arms, as well as Chinese characters etched into his back. Most of the time, he wears traditional clothing, such as a sleeveless Tang suit, so his arms are exposed. It’s almost as if the colors black and red were made for him. And he knows it. So unless he’s having a bad day where he’ll go for a simple T-shirt, he likes to dress to impress. Not that he even needs to try.

He’s devilishly attractive, and the way he talks gets girls flocking to him.

Personality

Zao is very easy-going and open-minded. He’ll talk about anything with anyone. Everything is fascinating in a way, and nothing seems to faze him either. So he’s the type to question the most trivial things in life--or list drugs as casually as you would your favorite candy bars. It’s also difficult to shock him, or anger him. When life deals him a bad hand, or springs up inconveniences, he’ll go with the flow because that’s life. So unless something involves the person he likes, he keeps himself pretty level-headed.

With his willingness to talk about anything, comes his brutal honesty and bluntness. So sometimes, he’ll find himself offending people even if he never meant to. If he does this to women, they’ll slap him before storming off, leaving him in confusion at what he did wrong. But if he does this to men, he’ll have to be quick on his feet to escape a potential fight. Unlike a few other 2ps, he has a good temperament so he avoids violence, but he’ll resort to it if he absolutely has to.

Despite the careers he’s depicted to have, like being a drug-dealer, something in adult entertainment, night-life, or anything illegal, he has strong fraternal instincts. If somebody embodied the “big brother” trope, it would be him. He cares a lot for his younger siblings, and they look up to him as a role model. But he’ll always tell them, “Do as I say, not as I do!” As comfortable as he is in his own skin, his own identity, he wouldn’t want them taking after him.

He’s very flirtatious, and a huge tease. How he shows he likes you is through making you blush, or embarrassed. He’ll call you pet names. Shower you with compliments. Refer to you as if you and him are already an item. If you bumped into him at a grocery store, he’ll help you shop, then say, “So, is that all we need? I can’t wait for dinner tonight.” Zao is also unapologetically dirty-minded. He’s all about dirty jokes, conversations, and gestures. The bigger reaction he gets, the more addicting they are.

He doesn’t have any qualifications, not even a high school diploma, but he’s street-smart to make up for it. That’s how he makes so many connections and hustles his way up to the top in shady businesses. If you need something, anything, legal or illegal, expensive or cheap, you can ask him, and 99% of the time, he’ll say, “I know a guy.” If he likes you, all he wants in return is something perverted. A kiss, maybe. Or maybe your underwear.

Interests

He loves anything cute, and he doesn’t hide it. Sanrio is a must--he keeps a collection of their plushies, most of them being Hello Kitty, but he also likes other characters such as Cinnamoroll and Pompompurin. Sometimes, he can get a bit obsessive over whatever sells fast. So if he has to, he’ll stay up and keep refreshing the page selling whatever he has his eyes on. If he’s infamous for his connections that let him get pretty much anything he wants, surely he can get his hands on the limited-edition Hello Kitty-themed towel, right!? He isn’t against having other kinds of merchandise either, like household items, but he keeps it lowkey for functionality.

In his house, you’ll find a lot of imports from East-Asian countries. Not only is he used to using them when he was back in China, they’re better than what you can find in America. Or at least, in his opinion. This includes cosmetics, snacks, alcohol, and decorations.

Although he doesn’t have a lot of time to, he enjoys watching anime. That’s why he makes sure to get through the most popular and mainstream ones first.

Zao likes to keep connected with his culture. He doesn’t care to assimilate, and being ‘different’ doesn’t bother him at all--he thinks it’s what gives him a unique personality and background. Since he doesn’t have a lot of friends to speak Mandarin with, he’ll look for his neighbors who can, and strike up a conversation every now and then. As well as that, he’ll give his siblings red pockets for Chinese New Year so they can spend it on food, videogames or whatever they want.

He can’t cook for shit. Even then, he has strong opinions on food, especially Chinese. While he enjoys westernised take out like Panda express, he wishes people would stop assuming Chinese cuisine is just dumplings, fried rice, noodles and yum cha. They’re B-tier at best. For a country with that rich and long a history, there’s so much more to indulge in. Too bad he can’t make anything if he tried.

Psychology + romance

Zao is used to being a second choice. His cheerfulness and bluntness make other people think he’s creepy or weird, so he can’t quite wrap his head around somebody liking him to that degree--or getting particularly close to him. At least, emotionally. There are a lot of girls who want him for one-night stands. But this doesn’t stop him from flirting with someone he genuinely likes, even if he doesn’t expect anything in return. It’s fun because they get flustered, after all. But when they start returning the same energy, get persistent, or even make him suspect that they like him back, he will get nervous. He’s used to being the chaser, not the other way around. So if the tables turn and things start getting real, he will back away.

As confident as he is with his image, it’s difficult for him to get intimate with somebody romantically. He’s open, but can’t be vulnerable. He’d rather keep things casual, so when he really falls for someone, he’ll be conflicted between keeping things the way they are, or pursuing them.

Eventually, these feelings will deepen to the point being just friends becomes suffocating. That’s when Zao loses his cool and gets frustrated. It could happen due to a build-up of his emotions, or an event that makes him explode from jealousy. He’ll get desperate after so long of not doing anything and make it very clear he wants you. “Just date me already!”

When he finally gets together with you, prepare to be coddled. He’ll want to help you with anything the best way he can, and go to extreme lengths to do so. Nothing seems extreme when it’s for somebody he cares so much about. While he never holds it against you--how much he does for you--he may or may not guilt trip you into giving him more affection. But only subtly. Instead of him kissing you, he'll loiter around your presence until you kiss him. And when you do, he’ll smile like an idiot.

He never makes it explicit when he wants to take you out on a date. Zao will just ask you if you’re free, and take you out for the night. He doesn’t see a point in labelling it as a ‘date’, because he doesn’t just see quality time with you through a romantic and sexual lens. He values the friendship aspect of it as well, and you really appreciate him for it.

Zao loves to cuddle. He doesn’t hug you much throughout the day, but when you’re at home and about to sleep, he will hug you, a lot. He won’t let go while he talks to you, and will only loosen his coils when you fall asleep.

Acknowledgements

I was mainly inspired by the 2p! China in the story, “Dragon District”, written by xYourHero. So props to them. The fandom’s perception of him has definitely deepened because of it, and it’s great seeing underrated 2ps finally getting the attention they deserve! I’m one of the people who’s had my characterization of Zao take after hers, so I’ll also be crediting her for my headcanons.

You can find the story on DeviantArt, Archive of our own and Wattpad. I adored that fic back in the day. Such good memories. I wasn’t even writing back when I was reading it. Any who, let’s get right into it. I’ve divided the headcanons into subcategories, appearance, personality, interests, and psychology + romance.

(Look at this fanart is by Amphany on DeviantArt. It was drawn for xYourHero. I’m gonna put it here for reference. https://www.deviantart.com/amphany/art/Dragon-smoke-548426383)

#hetalia #hetalia headcanons #2ptalia #2p!china #2p china #2p china headcanons #2ptalia x reader #2pchina x reader #axis powers hetalia #Axis powers ヘタリア #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfic #alfredosauce50 #ask

[boasamishipper]

otp questions for icemav of course, but also harry/perry from kiss kiss bang bang

1. Are they more “cute forehead kisses” or “hot making out” kind of couple? Maybe one prefers first option and the other one the second? How do they deal, in that case?

Ice and Mav are more of a "hot making out" kind of couple when they first get together, but as the years go by they develop a fondness for cute forehead kisses and the like as well - especially once they're married and can engage in the occasional public display of affection. Mav likes it when Ice kisses him on the nose and on the forehead, and Ice is a fan of cheek kisses and neck kisses, and both enjoy making out lol. Whatever feels most natural at the moment is what they go for.

Harry and Perry are definitely a "hot making out" kind of couple - the more cutesy types of kisses aren't really their thing, especially not in public. Occasionally Harry will bring Perry his morning coffee and kiss him on the forehead, or on the top of his head, and Perry will do his utmost to pretend not to like it.

2. If they wanted to shower their significant other with affection, how would they do that? Dinner in some fancy restaurant, gift, kisses and cuddles or an evening together on a couch with hot tea and very intimate talk?

Mav would treat Ice to dinner in a fancy restaurant, followed by a romantic evening featuring wine and rose petals between the bedsheets. Ice would cook Mav's favorite meal and they'd either go out for a night on the town or they'd spend the evening together at home with a stupid movie on TV (while they make out and/or have sex on the couch).

Perry is not really one to shower anybody with big displays of affection, least of all his significant other - with Harry, he shows his affection through touch (holding hands, kisses, embraces, cuddling, etc.), and calls him an idiot a little less often (or just with more fondness than normal). Harry tries now and then to shower Perry with big displays of affection, except in typical Harry fashion his attempts always end in disaster - his gift is stolen, his dinner reservation is canceled, Perry and Harry are kidnapped by the people they're investigating on their way to go to the theater, and so on and so forth. Perry likes old musicals, expensive whiskey, and Harry. Harry does his best to provide.

3. Are they comfortable with showing each other affection in public? If one is and the other one not, how do they interact in public?

Ice and Mav become more comfortable with PDA after they get married - Ice takes a little longer to get used to actually being able to show Mav affection in public, to just be out after so long in the closet, but Mav is patient with him and helps him loosen up. Their PDA doesn't really go further than chaste kisses and holding hands, at least at work functions (where at least half of Mav's sentences start with My husband and I); when they're with friends Mav will put his head against Ice's shoulder when they're seated, maybe sit in his lap as a joke, or Ice will stroke Mav's hair, kiss his hairline.

Perry thinks PDA is stupid until Harry gets flirted with one too many times in front of him; after that, Perry makes a habit out of touching Harry in some capacity, kissing Harry in public, flirting with him, but after a while it becomes less out of jealousy / staking his claim and more of something he actually enjoys doing. Harry flirts right back - he has an entire notebook's worth of pet names for Perry (ranging from baby to Per-bear) - and is pleased that his not-so-evil scheme of being flirted with in front of Perry resulted in Perry being more affectionate with him in public.

4. Do they have pet names? Do they like to embarrass each other in front of their friends/family/coworkers with some silly ones? Or do they keep it with basics, like “sweetheart” or “honey”?

Mav and Ice occasionally call each other by their ranks - mostly as foreplay - and 'baby' when they're feeling particularly romantic, but Mav and Ice are usually just Mav and Ice or Mitchell and Kazansky with one another and in front of their friends/family/coworkers.

Perry and Harry's list of pet names for one another are Varied. There are the tried and trues baby and sweetheart, and fond versions of idiot, dick, asshole, pretentious fuck, moron, and stupid fuck, and (in Harry's case, because Perry Will Not Do This) pet versions of their real names, e.g. Per or Per-Bear.

5. If one of them was away for longer time, like a week, how their significant other would greet them back?

Mav and Ice would do their best to keep in touch while the other was away, and would greet the other with Much Enthusiasm when they'd return. Afterwards, to celebrate the other's return, they'd go out to dinner, or take a couple day vacation, or just go straight to bed together and celebrate Properly in the morning. Either way sex is definitely involved.

Harry is more enthusiastic when Perry returns after being away for a longer time - he gets the house clean and/or the office in order and then pretty much jumps Perry the second he gets through the door. (Not that Perry minds.) Perry tries to play it blasé when Harry comes back from an extended trip - he pretends to not have remembered Harry's arrival date, when he's had it circled on his calendar from pretty much the second Harry walked out the door - but is absolutely terrible at it. That blasé attitude lasts about five minutes before Perry and Harry end up in bed with one another. The phrases "So you did miss me" and "shut up Harry" are very well worn by now.

6. How often do they say “I love you” to one another? On daily basics, leaving to work, with a kiss on a cheek and quick “love u, bye!” or it’s more rare and more emotional?

Daily (or almost daily) basics the longer they're together for Icemav, in more rare and emotional cases for Harry and Perry. Harry and Perry are quicker to throw around the occasional sarcastic Love you too babe and I can't believe I love you, but just regular I love yous are reserved for more serious occasions.

7. Do they keep track of each other during the day? Asking how is that important meeting going and texting “I <3 u”? Or they just text each other grocery list and talk when they are both home?

Harry and Perry text each other a lot. Harry is a magnet for trouble, and Perry texts him often during work to make sure he's doing his job (and, during more dangerous cases, because he wants to know if Harry's alright). They text about work more often than not and do talk more often about non-work-related things when they're at home, but there is some overlap. Harry loves it when he can get Perry to go on long rants about something he's passionate about over text when they're both supposed to be working.

Ice and Mav work together as well, but due to the nature of their jobs they don't text each other a lot during work, and catch up on their days at home. They don't have a lot of serious conversations over text either; texts between them contain anything from grocery lists, cat pics, complaints about students, reminders to pick up dry-cleaning, memes, links to interesting articles, strings of emoji, and - yes - many instances of "I <3 u".

8. How long into their relationship they are, when they say “I love you” for the first time? Who says that first? In what situation?

I'm fond of several scenarios for Harry and Perry exchange I Love Yous for the first time - quiet moments, Harry-does-something-stupid-and-gets-injured moments, Perry-does something-stupid-and-gets-injured moments - but the one thing that stays consistent is that it is a While after they've officially gotten together, and Perry is the first one to say it (when Harry is not expecting it).

My main headcanon for Icemav involves their relationship going from friends to FWBs to lovers over the course of a few years, with Mav proposing right before DADT goes into effect. I'm all for Big Dramatic I Love Yous, and no one is more dramatic than these two when they want to be, but honestly, I feel like their first I Love You would come during a quiet moment, not long after they've officially begun a relationship. Maybe Mav says it to Ice over breakfast and Ice responds in kind without even thinking about it. Maybe Ice says it to Mav when they're cuddling in bed. The sky's the limit re: potential situations and who says it first, but I like the idea of it happening during a Quiet Moment.

9. Do they have some unusual ways of saying “I love you”? Squeezing hands, that they both know what means?

(princess bride voice) That day, Harry was amazed to discover that when Perry called him an idiot, what he meant was, "I love you." (I mean, there are a Lot of instances where Perry calls Harry an idiot in the fullest sense of the word, but the point stands lol.)

Ice told Mav once not long after they officially got together that he thought 'boyfriend' sounded juvenile and 'partner' felt too formal, so Mav just stuck to referring to Ice as his wingman. They both have a certain fondness for the word now, and (princess bride voice) When They Say 'You Can Be My Wingman Anytime', What They Actually Mean Is I Love You.

10. How they show affection to the other one in everyday life? Do they cook dinner for each other? Or wash the dishes, even though it’s not their turn, cause they know the other one hates it?

For both couples, it's about the little things. Ice and Mav trade off chores, but if one of them is working late, the other will be responsible for dinner and/or cleaning - Ice Hates shoveling the snow, so Mav hires one of the local neighborhood kids to shovel their driveway and the walkway so Ice won't have to. Perry and Harry may argue about Harry's organization skills (or lack thereof), but Perry knows that if he asks Harry to get something important done, that important thing Will Get Done, and it will get done well, and Harry will get a head start on the work needed to be finished next.

#thanks for asking! #top gun #icemav #kiss kiss bang bang #harry x perry #quinnmorgendorffer #beautiful mutuals #thanks for the ask alex!!! sorry it took me so long to get this answered lol