#usually the me facing the exit and the most crowd is the best bet

[damnprecious]

I went for a coffee and then later to a restaurant with a friend I haven't seen in person for a while, and both times the friend correctly figured out the side of the table my stupid brain would require me to sit at

sometimes...being known is Good

#noopa rambles #I say stupid bc it's somewhat inconsistent with its demands #generally I need to sit with my back to the wall towards the exit and/or facing the most amount of people #usually the me facing the exit and the most crowd is the best bet #and if I can't sit like that I get stupidlt anxious #but some places (like the cafe we went to) it's a bit difficult to figure out what the best seat is bc they so open #and might have a couple of doors and stuff #but the friend had it read just right :') #in the second place we went to my preference was much easier to figure out bc it both faced the exit and the crowd #the amount of patience people have while dealing with my bullshit makes me so damn happy :') #sometimes I can easily tell looking at a table that That Spot is Mine but other times it takes a few extra seconds #I hated the hesburger at my uni town bc it simply did not have good seats #the place had two entrance doors and it was always such a fucking struggle to figure it out #like. no matter what my back would be towards one door and it was fucking cursed #I would also like to thank all those who have had to deal with this bullshit with me in person #it's very much appreciated :')

[tkaulitzlvr]

can you make a tom!sub? also i am INLOVE with all your writings💓💓

i was thinking if you could write tom being submissive and the (female) reader not letting him finish untill she says so?also if the story could contain some stuff like handcuffs and you know you know... ( only if your comfortable! )

thank you again and no rush! take your time💓

PLEASE - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: after tom loses a bet that the two of you had made, as promised he has to face his consequence - which involves the roles you usually have in bed completely reversing for the first time.

content: smut

a/n: sub tom has been requested soooo much on my account and honestly i’ve avoided it cause in my eyes he’s like the most obvious dom and that’s all i see him as…but him as a sub is just as hot so i finally decided to write it - i hope it lives up to ur expectations🙏

my eyes light up when i watch tom look down with a cheesy grin plastered on his face, no longer able to hold eye contact after i had blown him a kiss and winked from behind the barrier. i can just about distinguish his features from the dull flashing lights of the venue, and most importantly, the way his cheeks turn a light shade of pink. i made him blush. the bet which, in any other circumstance would be completely ridiculous, had never meant so much until now. the whole idea is somewhat stupid, tom deciding that it would be fun to see who could make the other blush first - clearly under the impression that he would win. the reward, though not explicitly discussed, is the thing that excites me the most, the endless possibilities from the vague prize of ‘getting whatever you want from the other person’ too good to pass up.

and by the way tom shoots me a quick glance, a defeated smile tugging on his lips, he knows that he has lost too. he shakes his head and mutters something under his breath - not that i can hear it, the speakers blasting out the band’s music paired with psychotic fans’ screams stop me from hearing even what the person next to me is saying. his fingers resume their fast-paced strumming on the guitar splayed across his lap, eyes occasionally darting in my direction until he stands on the stage above me, in line with the rest of his band.

“thank you so much for coming tonight paris. we love you all and hope to see you again soon, goodbye!” bill’s voice is followed by thousands of high-pitched screams, the irritating sound only seeming to get louder when tom snatches the microphone from his brother, shouting ‘thankyou’ to the crowd in his thick german accent.

i make my way to the backstage area whilst tom and the rest of the band say goodbye to the fans, throwing drum sticks and guitar picks into the crowd as they would after every show. i flop down onto one of the couches, the loud screaming still not slowing down as i wait for tom to exit the stage, knowing that he won’t be thrilled after losing the bet he was so eager to initiate.

“you did so good baby, i’m so proud of you!” i smile widely when tom walks through the door, standing up from the sofa and engulfing him in a tight hug, burying my head into his shoulder. he smiles weakly, planting a soft kiss into my hair and wrapping his arms around my waist.

“thank you schatz.” he mumbles, his voice somewhat sad despite the wide smiles that remain etched on the rest of his band members faces - the show they have just performed being one of their best so far, practically flawless. tom pulls away and moves to sit on the couch behind me, sighing frustratedly and spreading his body across it. i don’t need to ask why he is so upset - not only because the reason is totally obvious, but he decides to express his annoyance himself.

“i can’t believe you won.” he groans, tilting his head back and letting it rest against the back of the couch. he gives me a small smile, not intending to seem mad with me, instead he seems annoyed with himself. he opens his arms out, gesturing for me to join him on the couch. i move over, sitting beside him as he wraps an arm around me.

“have you thought of anything yet? for your reward, i mean.” the pads of his fingertips run along my arm, his chin resting on my head as i smile slowly, knowing the answer to his question the second he had asked it - hell, i had known exactly what i would do if i won the second he proposed the bet.

“i think i have something in mind.”

“you want to be in control?” his face displays a mix of confusion and interest, his eyebrows raised, slight smirk on his lips. i nod my head, moving closer forward as i already straddle his lap with my hair disheveled and lips swollen - tom having initiated something the second we had entered the hotel room. things didn’t turn out the way he had expected though, my hand resting firmly on his chest when he had attempted to climb on top, as he did every other time.

he tilts his head to the side, seeing that i am completely serious about this. his hands find my waist, fingers threading through the loops in my jeans as he grinds my hips over his already prominent erection. i shake my head when he tries to manoeuvre my hips again, placing my hands over his and stopping his movements entirely. his eyes widen, body stuck in place as he seems startled by my sudden change in attitude, knowing that usually i would be underneath him in this moment. he shifts around a little, squirming beneath me and sitting up slightly, his back now resting against the headboard as my legs are wrapped around his waist.

“stay still.” i rest my hands flat against his chest, watching as his mouth falls open a little, lips parted as he looks up at me, his gaze bordering desperate as i can tell that he wants me to do something, though he doesn’t know how to say it.

i shift my hips to get closer to him, a low groan leaving his lips in the process, soon cut off when i press my lips to his own, his noises muffled into my mouth. and when i begin to grind against him at a more consistent pace, his ability to kiss back seems to diminish by the second, his breath hitching in his throat. i pull away, watching as his face falls in disappointment, clearly wanting more than just a kiss. and i plan on giving him that, as long as he uses his words, just as he tells me to.

though words can wait for now, my actions taking control as i reach forward, my hands finding the hem of his t-shirt as i lift the material upward and off of his frame, revealing his toned upper half. i throw it to the floor somewhere, returning my attention to tom as his hands reach out, attempting to pull my own small crop top off. he doesn’t get far though, his hands roughly returned to his side as i shake my head.

“no touching. not unless i say so.” he seems to understand that he has next to no control right now, that he can do nothing but wait on me, and i can tell that it irritates him, a low groan sounding from his lips. my eyes never tear away from his own, watching the way he stares intently at my cleavage, eyes drinking it all in as i lift my top over my head, revealing the small lace bra holding my breasts in place. his tongue comes out to flick the small metal piercing that rests on his bottom lip, eyes quickly darkening.

“fuck baby…let me touch you- please.” his voice is barely above a whisper, bordering between frustrated and desperate, both causing him to go next to insane as i deprive him of the one thing he relies on to show affection - touch. he begins to squirm beneath me, attempting to create some sort of friction between us, his hips moving up and down along my clothed heat.

“sit still or you won’t get to touch me at all. you have to be patient.” i scold, watching as he nods his head, his movements soon slowing, cut off by his breath hitching in his throat when my hands make contact with the small metal button of his jeans, undoing it slowly. his eyes stay locked on my fingers, watching as i tug the zipper down, showing no resistance and instead bucking his hips upward and allowing me to slide the denim off of his body when i tug it downward, the material pooling at his feet. i quickly slip out of my mini-skirt, our underwear now the only thing separating us, and i can tell that it drives him crazy.

his chest rises up and down, a thin coat of sweat lining his forehead as his entire body jolts with even the slightest of movements, desperate whines leaving his lips when my hands finally palm him through his boxers, the first bit of attention i give towards the place where he craves it most.

“fuck…oh god, oh my god.” his head falls backward, teeth sinking into his bottom lip when i run the palm of my hand up and down his length, still separated by the thin fabric of his boxers. his erection seems to get more and more painful with each second, every gentle touch i press to his clothed dick generating more sounds from his parted lips - small whines soon turning to loud groans, to the point where he can’t handle it any longer.

“please schatz…do something…need it so bad-shit!” his eyes squeeze shut, wincing slightly when i touch his tip through his boxers, this area more sensitive than the rest of him. despite his pleas, i decide to go that little bit further, knowing how crazy it will drive him.

“what do you want me to do tom?” my voice is low, crossing the line between innocent and seductive, creating a sickly mix of the two that seems to drive him crazy. my head moves downward, lips directly against his ear as i take his lobe in my mouth, biting it lightly before releasing it, feeling the way his whole body shivers below me. my lips make contact with his neck, placing slow kisses, just enough to tease him a little more. “you have to tell me what you want baby.”

“you want my hands?” i whisper into his ear, my hand trailing to palm him once again, yet another groan falling from his lips. “or my mouth, maybe?” i take the skin of his neck between my teeth, sucking slowly before letting it go, my tongue running over it momentarily. he stays quiet, his breathing heavy and body becoming more restless.

“or…” i add, pausing for a few seconds, buying time to leave him guessing, pulling back to study his face, the sight enough to resemble heaven on earth - or at least something pretty damn close to it. his eyes are half-lidded, eyebrows furrowed slightly, tongue poking out of his mouth. he watches me intently, eyes fixed on my hand as it moves to grab his own, trailing downward to my clothed heat, placing it flat against my panties. “do you want this?”

he nods his head rapidly, fingers trying to pull the lace from my lower half, not getting far as i pull them back, leaving him even more desperate than he was seconds ago.

“need to be inside you.” he whines, sighing under his breath and adjusting himself once again, thrusting his hips ever so slightly in the hopes that he will feel any contact, even if it is only for a second. but when i smile weakly above him, sitting up a little and reaching for my panties, his eyes visibly light up, thrilled by the possibility of finally getting what he wants. i step out of my underwear, fingers finding the clasp of my bra and removing it from my frame. tom’s eyes scan my body hungrily, starting at my now exposed breasts, moving down to my lower half. his hands reach outward, making contact with my waist as he pulls me closer to him. i let him this time, watching the way relief takes over his expression from being granted the simple permission of touching my body.

the pads of his fingertips trail upward, moving along my stomach, just about to touch my breasts before i stop him, much to his frustration.

“please baby…can’t take it- need you so bad, need to touch you…” he is practically begging at this point, his body tired and sweaty beneath me, desperate for any sort of relief.

“wait.” i state simply, showing him no sympathy, though my actions seem to act as some consolation as my hands make contact with the waistband of his boxers, fingers dipping underneath them teasingly. his breath catches in his throat, breathing becoming even more erratic as i get closer and closer to giving him what he wants, before tearing away his hope and moving my fingers almost completely away. i tug on the waistband, slipping my fingers in once again, inching closer to his dick, the presence of his boxers frustrating to him as i can only do so much with them there. my hand finds his length as i run a single finger down it, a loud moan pouring from tom’s lips as his head falls backward. i struggle to fit another finger into his boxers, the fabric restricting my movements too much - and it drives him insane.

“fuck schatz…take ‘em off, please…just take them off.” he whines loudly, groaning when i slip my hand out of his boxers, only to tug them down ever so slowly, almost too slowly for tom as he bucks his hips slightly. his dick springs free, hitting his lower abdomen and god, the sight is enough to make me cum on the spot. it is almost painfully hard, the veins within it more prominent than ever, the tip red as pre-cum spills out of it. i almost pity him, watching how he grunts at the slight touch of my fingers wrapping their way around the base.

he hisses when i pump him a few times, my thumb moving to swirl around his tip, his mouth falling open whenever i apply pressure. i don’t give him too much, though, nothing that brings him anywhere close to his release, just enough to show him what he can receive, and he craves for more.

“please just sit on it, please schatz…i can’t, want you so bad- fuck!” he attempts to bring one hand to his hard dick, stroking it once before i pull him away roughly, swatting his hand and placing it by his side.

“what did i say, hm? you have to listen to me to get what you want.” all he can do is nod his head, far too focused on my actions as i speak his eyes glued to my heat as i begin to move forward, lifting my hips upward so that his tip is aligned directly with my entrance. my hands place themselves on his shoulders, maintaining a firm hold before slowly sliding downward, taking just the tip inside of me. he whines loudly, hands flying to rest on my waist, his fingers already digging into the skin, bound to leave marks.

i lift my hips upward after a few seconds, his tip sliding out of me as he whines in frustration, desperate for something, anything, besides from being teased like this. he knows that there is no point in trying to do anything himself - realising that i will just stop him. instead, he watches impatiently as i shift my hips downward again, taking a little more inside me than i did last time. i moan quietly at the sensation, his dick slowly stretching me out as i stop when he is around halfway.

his eyes are now completely closed, squeezing shut as his mouth is now wide open, chest rising and falling at a fast pace, clearly far too lost in pleasure from my minimal acts to think about anything else.

“tell me what you want baby.” my voice is more forgiving this time, lacking the harsh tone it had when i scolded him all those times. now he knows better than to initiate anything, his eyes slowly opening when he registers what i say.

“keep going.” he pleads, his hands trailing to my hips, squeezing the flesh roughly. he clears his throat, though his ability to sound even a little bit composed is long gone, and he knows it too, soon realising when he opens his mouth to speak again, his voice low and whiny. “take all of me, please baby…”

i lean my face closer to his own, lips ghosting over the corner of his mouth. “open your eyes…watch me.” i smile when his eyes flutter open, dark and tired, their gaze flickering to watch where we are connected, struggling to stay open when his dick begins to slowly disappear inside of me, inch my inch.

“oh god-fuck…feels so good…” i haven’t even moved yet, staying sat completely on top of him, not circling my hips and instead adjusting to his size, my walls stretched out as i wait for the pain to turn to pleasure. it doesn’t matter that i haven’t done anything yet, not to tom, anyway. the evident euphoria on his face tells me enough, the continuous teasing i had put him through meaning that literally anything is enough to leave him a moaning mess.

and when i begin to circle my hips, grinding them over his pelvis, the noises that sound from his parted lips become louder and more inaudible, once clear attempts to say my name now barely understandable, lost in the whines that take over any speech. his body shines with a thick layer of sweat, highlighting each defined muscle from beneath me as they contract with each harsh squeeze of my hips. i lift them up, almost all the way off of tom’s dick, before slamming back onto it, soft curses spilling from his lips when i repeat my motions, soon finding a fast rhythm. somehow his hands don’t leave my waist, taking advantage of how i allow them to rest there, afraid that i will tear them away if he decides to move them anywhere else. but i see the way his eyes are fixated on my breasts, fighting the urge to close them purely so he can watch the way they bounce up and down with each movement of my hips. there are times when he jerks his hand upward, seeming to hesitate and return it to its position on my waist, though it doesn’t take long for the urge to become too strong.

“let me touch them liebe…please- just wanna touch them.” a string of pleas follow his request, his voice returning to a low whisper as he awaits my response, his head falling backward when i angle my hips a certain way, his tip brushing directly against my g-spot. i moan loudly at the feeling, eyes rolling to the back of my head as i repeat my movement, his tip drilling against it repeatedly. i am far too lost in pleasure to refuse his ask, nodding my head and mumbling a quick and almost inaudible “go ahead baby”.

and he wastes no time, his hands rushing to cup my breasts, his thumbs running over the hardened nipples as he lets out a satisfied groan. he squeezes the flesh harshly, mesmerised by the feeling as the movements of his hands become more feverish, his need seeming to increase as he moves his head forward, allowing his lips to make contact with them. he places rough and open-mouthed kisses onto the flesh, kneading what isn’t in his mouth, sucking on my breast for a few seconds before running his tongue over the skin, his lips leaving a trail of purple marks scattered across my chest.

“i’m so close…please don’t stop baby- fuck, don’t stop- please!” his voice vibrates against my breast as he continues to kiss the skin, often cut off momentarily by a loud groan whenever i clench around him. and i can tell that he means it, his dick twitching inside of me every few seconds, the frequency of his moans increasing with each movement of my hips.

“you’re not cumming yet.” i state through breathy moans, circling my hips and digging my hails into his shoulders. he whines in response, pulling his head away from my breast to look upward at me. “hold it, you have to wait for me, mhm?”

“can’t baby- i can’t…fuck- it hurts so bad…” if i weren’t to desperate to chase my own release, i would probably pity him and let him cum out of sympathy, though now all i can focus on is finding my own climax, my bounces becoming more sloppy and feverish, craving nothing more than to release the knot in my stomach that begins to build.

“yes you can.” i breathe out, taking my hands and pressing them to the back of his head, bringing his lips closer to my breasts and moaning when his tongue swipes across my nipple. “you can cum when i say so.”

the knot in my stomach becomes more noticeable, my free hand moving downward to rub soft circles on my clit, my head falling backward at the overwhelming pleasure, knowing that it won’t be long until i get to my release. i don’t tell tom that, though, watching intently as he can no longer plant firm kisses to my breasts, instead he falls backward to rest his upper half against the headboard, soft and frequent curses pouring from his lips as he holds back his release, the task becoming harder and harder for him as each second passes.

my own head falls backward, eyes rolling back as i finally let go, feeling my release wash over me. i clutch onto tom’s back for support, rocking my hips back and forth slowly as i ride out my high, still aware that tom hasn’t come yet. and i can tell that he can’t hold on much longer.

“please baby…please let me cum- it hurts so bad schatz, shit!” tears begin to roll down his cheeks, soft whines spilling from his lips far more often than before. the slow roll of my hips on his dick doesn’t help - the angle allowing him to hit the deepest spots inside of me, my walls unconsciously clenching around him when the pleasure gets too much. “need it so bad baby, just wanna cum, please…”

my lips collide with his softly as he still tries to kiss back, the taste of tears on his mouth as i move against him slowly. “c’mon, cum baby…” he sighs loudly once he registers that he has my permission, no longer able to kiss back as his head falls backwards, eyes squeezing shut and eyebrows furrowing, loud and elongated groans elicited from his lips as i feel his hot cum shoot into me, coating my walls as i ride out his high.

“shitshitshit…oh my fucking god!” he begins to lazily thrust upward into me, anything to increase the pleasure he already feels, his movements somehow matching mine as he moans into my mouth, his hands glued to my hips. his nails dig into the skin, leaving harsh marks there. eventually, both our movements slow down, tom’s body trembling as it lays against the headboard, his breathing fast and heavy. i collapse on top of him, his dick still inside of me as i rest my head on his chest. he rubs my back up and down, fingers tracing random patterns there.

“fuck me.” he mumbles into the now silent room, my head whipping upward to look at him, his fucked out expression enough to leave me mesmerised, taking in every feature on his face - the way his eyes struggle to stay open, slight wrinkles on his forehead from his furrowed brows, his lips remaining slightly parted, he somehow looks perfect. “you need to be on top more baby, that’s the best sex we’ve had.”

his hand tiredly reaches to cup my cheek, drawing my face nearer to his as he connects our lips. the kiss is lazy and sloppy, still filled with passion as i press my lips firmly onto his own. he pecks them a few more times before pulling away, standing up and pulling me toward the bathroom to clean up.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tomkaulitz #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz x reader #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz angst #kaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz

[5-seconds-of-bucky]

The Dock

A/N: So I’m writing for Bucky now...☺️ I wrote this for @wkemeup’s 9k writing challenge but also not? I’ve had the idea in my head for a while now so I thought I’d participate! I included the prompt, but it’s not so much the plot of the story so much as just part of it. Anyways, happy reading!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Avenger!Reader

Summary: After a long time of mutual pinning, a night on the dock helps you and Bucky finally confess your feelings for each other

Word count: 4.5k+

Warnings: Swearing, reader gets catcalled, violence, excessive usage of the middle finger

Prompt: Character A is the target of harassment on the street. Shamed, they pretend it doesn’t bother them. Until it happens in the presence of Character B, who reigns hell on whoever dared to upset [A]

---

You awoke to your head bobbing on the car window and the sound of crunching gravel as the car pulled into the driveway of Tony’s lake house. Your neck ached from leaning over in a strange position for so long and you groaned as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

Bucky grinned from the seat beside you. “Sleep well?” he asked, nudging your calf with his foot. “You got a little drool there.”

“Oh, shut up.” You stuck your middle finger up in his direction. “I slept very well, actually. Thank you for asking.”

“I can tell.” You lifted up your other hand to flip him off again, causing him to chuckle. “Ooh, two middle fingers. I’m really scared now.”

The two of you were too busy teasing each other to realize that the car had stopped and Sam and Natasha had already gotten out of it. A knock on the window your head was resting on made you turn around, seeing Sam’s face a little too close for your liking.

“Are you two gonna stop flirting and help us with the bags or should I let you bake in the car?” he asked. With a roll of your eyes, you opened the car door, making sure to bump Sam in the process. Bucky felt heat rise to his cheeks, glad that you weren’t looking over towards him to see it. “I’m taking this silence to mean that you do want to roast in the car.”

“Sam, would you shut up?” you laughed, casually sticking a middle finger up behind your back as you walked past him to the trunk.

“You and these middle fingers today,” Sam muttered.

“I have another one if you’d like to see it.” You grabbed your backpack and slung it over your shoulder.

“I’m good.” He picked up his bag from the ground before heading towards the house, which the rest of the team was already situated in. You went to grab your suitcase but Bucky swatted your hand away, grabbing it himself and closing the trunk.

“I got it,” he insisted like the true gentleman he was. As much as you wanted to argue, you knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere.

“Why thank you, good sir.” You bumped his shoulder with your own and walked ahead, jumping up the three steps to the porch and opening the door.

“All in a day’s work.” He lifted the suitcases up the steps with ease and slipped past you to get inside. The feeling of air conditioning inside the cabin was a major relief from the heat outside.

“Glad to see the lovebirds finally showed up,” Tony said once you and Bucky were completely inside the cabin.

“You better watch out, Tony. Y/N’s got middle fingers for days over there.”

“Shut up, Sam!”

A chorus of laughter rang out throughout the cabin and you made sure to shoulder check Sam as you passed him to get to the kitchen.  

---

“Okay, I have the perfect plan to get you and Barnes together this weekend,’ Natasha said as she pulled out clothes from her suitcase. You two were sharing a room for the week and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or not. You loved Nat to death but lately she had been trying especially hard to get you to make a move on Bucky and it was only slightly annoying.

“The perfect plan, huh? Even more perfect than the last perfect plan?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I forgot to account for the fact you both have a tendency to wake up at ungodly hours in the morning last time. I promise it’s foolproof this time.”

“Well then, let’s hear it.”

“Alright. Before you got in here--you know, when you were busy flirting with Bucky.” She winked, to which you rolled your eyes. “Well Tony was talking about taking the boat out and going tubing. So what we have to do is get you and Bucky to go on the tube together. Tony’s a crazy driver so you’ll get thrown off pretty fast. Bucky will get so worried he’ll just have to confess his love to you.”

“Two issues.” You pointed a finger at her. “One, how am I going to get Bucky on a tube? It will be hard enough to get him on the boat alone. Two,” You held up another finger. “why would he confess his love at that very moment? That’s insane.”

“One,” She grabbed one of your fingers and put it down. “he’s whipped for you. I guarantee that if you ask, he’ll do it without a second thought.”

“Sure he would,” you scoffed.

“Uh, I know he would.” She gave you a knowing smirk. “Two, he gets worried about you all the time and I’ve seen him get close to confessing every time. We just gotta push him over the edge.”

“Bucky getting protective is just him being my best friend. He used to be just like that with Steve too.” You put your arm down, shuffling over to your own bed to take some clothes out of the blue suitcase on top of it.

“No, it’s definitely more than best friend love.” She moved to sit down on your bed.

“Either way, it usually ends in some kind of fight and I’d like to avoid that this weekend.”

“Who’s he gonna fight? Tony?”

“I mean, you never know.” It wouldn’t be the first time.  

~

“I can’t wait to get back and shove these things in my mouth,” you said with a grin as you exited the bakery behind Bucky, a bag of donut holes in your hand.

“Gee, really? It’s almost like you haven’t been talking about it for the past three days,” Bucky chuckled, reaching for the bag.

You pulled the bag away from him with a fake scoff. “Oh, I don’t think so, mister. We have to wait until we get back. The anticipation makes them taste better.”

“You’re insufferable.” He elbowed your side and you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Damn, you looking fine over there, mama!”

You took in a sharp breath. It wasn’t all that uncommon for you to get cat called while out and about. You were in New York City, for fucks sake. That didn’t mean that it made you feel any less uncomfortable, though.  

As much as it stung, you didn’t want to start anything. You stared straight ahead and prayed Bucky didn’t hear it. Much to your dismay though, he stiffened next to you, subtly glancing back to see who was talking to you in such a vulgar way. Damn that supersoldier enhanced hearing.

“Hey, sweetcheeks!” You felt a tug on your shoulder. “Didn’t you hear me?”

You huffed, shaking the harsh grip off your shoulder and picking up the pace. You expected Bucky to keep going with you so you continued walking, frowning when you noticed he wasn’t beside you anymore.

“Listen here, you little shit,” Bucky seethed, stepping in front of the man and blocking you from his sight. “She obviously doesn’t want to talk to you. Leave her, and every other woman you ever lay your beady little eyes on, alone.”

“And what’re you gonna do about it?” the man smirked. “She need her boyfriend to defend her?”

Bucky stepped closer, crossing his arms and giving the famous ‘Bucky stare.’ “Doesn’t matter who I am. You better back the fuck away before I make you life hell.”

A few onlookers started lingering around, some with their phones out and recording the scene, almost as if they wanted to see a fight break out between the two men. ‘Winter Soldier vs Everyday Pedestrian  was sure to be trending somewhere soon enough.

“Buck,” you said quietly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and ignoring the obvious stares you were receiving, most notably from the man whose face Bucky was ready to punch in. “Let’s just go.”

You could see the gears turning in his head, trying to decide if he should let it go or punch the living daylights out of the guy. He let out a soft sigh after a moment, relaxing into your grip. With one last look at the man, he turned around and placed his hand on the small of your back, gently pushing you forward.

“Aye, it’s all good. I’m sure I’ll see that tight ass ‘round here soon anyways.”

That was the last straw for Bucky. He growled with a ferocity you hadn’t heard before and whipped around, not even hesitating to use his metal arm to punch the guy. The crowd gasped, more bringing their phones out to capture what was sure to be a great fight.

“What the fuck was-” Bucky grabbed him by his collar, pushing him up again the exposed brick of a restaurant.

“There’s plenty more where that came from and, judging by the way you’re looking at me, I bet you don’t want to see it. So do the rest of humanity a favor and fuck off.” He let go of the man’s collar and stepped back, unclenching his fist and pivoting back towards you. “Come on, doll.”

You shook the shock off your face and fell into step next to him. His arm warped around you, pulling you into his side. You could feel the fumes radiating off of him as you walked back to the tower, choosing to stay quiet as you let him cool off.

You paused once you reached the entrance of the tower. Tony probably already knew about what happened and he sure wasn’t going to be happy about it. Bucky’s media presence hadn’t necessarily been bad lately, but it wasn’t perfect either. The public was still wary. To many, the Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier were still the same person.  

Things definitely felt off when you entered. You got the side eye from a few people in the elevator and you weren’t sure if it was because of the fight fiasco or because of how tightly Bucky was holding you to his side.

“Want to eat these in my room?” you asked once you stepped off the elevator.

“Sounds good.” His voice was distant as his eyes searched the room.

“Mr. Barnes,” FRIDAY’s voice startled the two of you, making you drop the donut holes. “Mr. Stark has requested to see you in his office.”

Bucky sighed. “I’ll be there in a few.” He picked up the bag and handed it back to you. “Apparently, I have business to attend to.”

You simply nodded. He went in the other direction towards Tony’s office pausing at the door before knocking. You sent him a thumbs up before he went in, but he didn’t look back at you to see it. You retreated to your room, placing your wallet on the dresser and popping a donut hole in your mouth.

“Maybe I should get a plate,” you wondered aloud. You needed to grab your water bottle anyways. Might as well make the trip. You put the donut holes on your bed and started making your way to the kitchen.

“She’s perfectly capable of handling herself, you know.” You couldn’t help but stop as you heard Tony’s voice through the door of his office.

“But she shouldn’t have to.” Bucky sounded stressed and you could only imagine the hell Tony was reigning on him. “Her ignoring him wasn’t going to do anything. I didn’t want to beat the guy up but he was harassing her and it needed to stop.”

“And this doesn’t have anything to do with any particular feelings you have for her, right?” The sarcasm was heavy in his voice.

“Tony-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Barnes. You know how the public sees you. I don’t know how we’re going to fix this.”

“That guy harassed her! I couldn’t stand there and just let it happen!” God, you wanted to give him a hug so bad right now.

“I don’t care what it was, Bucky. Having heart eyes for Y/N doesn’t mean-” You took that as your cue to leave. You grabbed a plate and two water bottles from the kitchen and made sure to take the long way around to your room in order to avoid whatever was going on between the two of them.

Bucky showed up a half hour later, plopping down next to you on your bed with a little more space than usual.

~

“I’m just saying, it could work.” Nat got off your bed. “The cookout’s starting soon. Put on something cute.” She was gone before you could respond, leaving you to look for an outfit that would, as Nat liked to say, “knock Bucky off his ass.”

---

“Ooh, Y/N, looking to impress someone?” Sam called out as you walked out into the backyard. It seemed that most everyone else was already out there, helping make dinner or sitting on the dock.

You stuck up your middle finger in reply, knowing exactly what he was trying to do.

“Oh stop it, Sam,” Wanda said as she walked towards you. “You look amazing!”

“Aww, thank you! You look absolutely stunning yourself.” Wanda reached out her hand and nodded towards the dock, urging you to come with her and join the group. You grabbed it and let her drag you down there, giving a small wave to Bucky as you passed him near the grill.

Bucky waved back, a grin spanning the expanse of his face at the sight of you. He kept his gaze on you as you made your way down to the dock, not even realizing just how intently he was staring.

“Someone’s staring at you,” Nat said with a suggestive smirk once you were close enough to the dock.

“He has a starting problem. We all know that,” you argued, sitting down across from her.

“I don’t know. He looks like he wants nothing more than to-”

“Nat, I love you, but please shut up.” She raised her hands up in the defense and Wanda giggled.

“I’m just saying.”

“You okay over there?” Steve shifted his focus from the burgers to his 100-year-old friend for a second, of course noticing the sudden silence that ensued the second you entered Bucky’s line of vision. “Buck?”

“Huh?” Bucky’s head turned sharply in Steve’s direction.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” A shy smile.

“Are you going to ask her out soon?” He flipped some burgers over and pulled the lid of the grill closed.

“I’m getting to it, yeesh,” Bucky chuckled.

“That’s what you’ve been saying since forever.”

“And it’s what I’ll keep saying every time you pester me about it.”

“Well if you don’t make a move soon, maybe I’ll swoop in-”

“Nope! You will not do that.” He nudged Steve in the shoulder and started making his way to the dock. “You absolutely will not do that.”

Soon. He was going to do it soon.

---

“Who’s next?” Tony called from the driver’s seat of the boat. You handed Sam a towel as he got back on the boat, drenched from flying off the tube a second earlier.

“You should go with Bucky.” Wanda nudged you with a teasing smile. You glanced over to the man in question, seeing him sitting next to Steve. He wore a t-shirt and swim shorts with a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose, and he looked damn good.

“I’ll go,” you announced, standing up and taking your t-shirt off, leaving you in your favorite swimsuit and a pair of shorts. You handed Wanda the shirt so it wouldn’t get wet. “Anyone wanna go with me?” Wanda jabbed your leg and gave you a playful glare.

“Go with her,” Steve muttered to Bucky, bumping his shoulder with his own.

“I don’t know, Steve.” Bucky sighed. Steve rolled his eyes, knowing that his best friend just needed a little push. 

“Bucky will go with you,” Steve said a bit louder than necessary. Bucky groaned quietly at his friend, taking off his sunglasses and putting them in his seat. He made sure to give Steve a certain look before making his way towards the back of the boat. You both grabbed your life jackets and started securing them as Sam moved out of your way.

“Cyborg!” Tony called out. “You going to take your shirt off?”

You felt Nat snort as she helped you off of the back of the boat and onto the tube. “Yeah, Bucky. Why don’t you show off your muscles for your girlfriend here.”

“Nat!” You paused for a second to look back at her with fake betrayal.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” He snapped the last clasp on the life vest and checked to make sure you were all the way on the tube so he could start getting on.

“Oh, come on, Buckaroo!” Sam laughed. He started a chant of “take it off” with the rest of the team (even you, though you’d never admit it).

“Fine,” Bucky grumbled, hastily taking off the life jacket and shirt. He threw the shirt to the middle of the boat and resecured the lifevest, ignoring Nat’s hand offered out for help as he climbed on the tube. His famous Bucky glare melted off his face the second he saw your bright smile and he found himself smiling too.

“I don’t know how well this is going to go but it’s gonna be fun,” you said as he grabbed onto the handles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Tony’s a crazy driver and we’ve never been able to get you on a tube before. I’m betting you’ll fly off in the first three minutes.”

The tube jerked forwards before Bucky could say anything else. You started picking up speed quickly and soon enough, Bucky was holding the handles with a death grip. You ended up being right and about two minutes in, you hit a wave that threw him off.

“Are you okay?” you asked in between laughs as he struggled to get back on.

“Yeah,” he muttered, a hint of annoyance on his face. You threw a thumbs up to Tony, who nodded and started moving again. “It’s like he’s trying to throw us off.”

“Well half the fun is falling off.”

“You people have strange ways of entertaining yourselves on Sunday afternoons.”

“What would you suggest we rather do then?”

“I don’t know. Something that doesn’t involve giving myself whiplash for ‘fun.’”

“You’re such an old man.” You let go of a handle to smack his arm. Of course, at that exact moment, you hit a wave strong enough to throw both of you off. You shrieked as you flew off of the tube before smacking the water. Whether it was the lack of paying attention or a scheme by Nat and Steve, the boat kept going, leaving the two of you floating in the middle of the lake by yourselves.

“Where are they going?” You furrowed your eyebrows, though a grin was still evident on your face.

“Are you okay?” Bucky ignored your question as he swam over to you, worriedly grabbing your face and checking for injury.

“Buck, I’m fine,” you said, though you didn’t do anything to stop his injury check. He sighed and looked towards the direction the boat went. It seemed that they were already long gone.

“That shriek had me worried there for a second, doll.” His hands dropped from your cheeks and you found yourself missing his touch.

“No need to worry. I’m all good over here.”

“Good.”

A lull of conversation fell over the two of you as you treaded water. You slowly moved closer, noses almost touching when Bucky glanced down to your lips. You nodded. I want this too.

His lips brushed over yours: eyes closed and hands dipping under the water to grab your waist.

“There you are!” you heard Sam’s voice shout. You quickly separated, looking awkwardly down at the water as you tried to focus on anything but each other. “Thought we lost you. Didn’t interrupt anything, I hope.” He smirked at Bucky.

This time, it was Bucky flipping him off.

---

You tried to be quiet as possible as you tiptoed through the hallway, hoping that you wouldn’t step on any particularly squeaky floorboards in the dark. You started opening drawers once you made it to the kitchen in search of a flashlight. Did Tony even own basic technology like that?

“What are you doing, doll?” A soft voice broke you from your thoughts. A pair of blue eyes stared back at you.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Oh, okay.”

“You look like a deer in headlights.” His lips turned into an almost smile. “Are you running away?”

“Just down to the dock. Need to clear my mind.” Nightmares.

He nodded. An unspoken understanding. Maybe that’s what made you such great friends.

“Mind if I join?”

“Sure.” You finally found a flashlight and grabbed it, sliding the drawer shut with your hip. You slid the glass door to the porch open, leaving Bucky to follow you out.  

Warmth surrounded you as you made your way to the dock. The humidity was atrocious during the day but at night, it was somehow comforting. The buzzing of bugs in the surrounding woods brought you a level of peace that the hum of air conditioning inside couldn’t. You sat down at the edge of the dock, dipping your toes in the cool lakewater.

Bucky sat down next to you a moment later. Your silence contrasted with that of the busy summer night, but it was comfortable. Nothing needed to be said; the presence of each other was more than enough.

“You know,” he started, his gaze not leaving the shoreline across the way. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”

You glanced over to him for a second, taking subtle notice of his features when his guard was down. The dark circles under his eyes mirrored yours, yet he looked relaxed.

“And what if I don’t?” The slight stain of your voice didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” His head turned to meet you eyes. The soft upturn of your lips and content sigh told him that was the right answer. Your hand inched closer to his, your pinkies brushing on the splintered wood of the dock.

“How do you always know what to say?” Your gaze followed his across the lake, catching sight of a few deer grazing on the grass at the edge of the woods.

“I guess being alive for 106 years has to give me some kind of wisdom, right?”

You snorted, breaking the quiet atmosphere the two of you had created for the first time that night.

“I dunno. You’re still kind of a dumbass.”

“And you're still kind of a smartass, so where does that get us?” A grin spread across his face and there was no sight you loved more.

“God, I love seeing you smile.” A blush coated his cheeks at your words and he prayed you couldn’t see it in the dark of the night.

Your hands inched closer for a second time that night. A metal hand reached across to grab yours, his other arm going around your waist to pull you closer. Your head rested beneath his chin as he rubbed circles into your side.

“Thank you,” you mumbled after a few minutes of quiet.

“For what?”

“Your face.”

His chest rumbled with laughter and he squeezed you just the slightest bit tighter. “Glad I could be of service, doll.”

“Seriously, though . . .Thank you for being around. I know we joke around a lot but it really means a lot that you’re willing to sit out here with me.”

“I mean, technically, it was more of me inviting myself than putting myself through the torture of sitting here with you.”

You pulled away from his chest, shifting yourself so you could look at him better. “For real, Buck.” You put your hands on his cheeks. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Just do it, Bucky. Now’s the time.

He let out a breath as he smiled, looking anywhere but in your eyes as he contemplated what to do next. The hand not holding your waist came to brush back a piece of hair that had fallen in your face.

“Can I kiss you?”

You looked shocked for a moment, leaving him to wonder if he’d been reading it wrong all along. “Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry! I thought that-”

You cut him off, pressing your lips against his. Your hands moved to wrap around his neck as his grabbed your hips. It was everything you needed and yet it still wasn’t enough.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this to happen,” you breathed once you pulled away. This grin on your face mirrored his as he pressed his forehead against yours, wanting to keep you as close as possible.

“Actually . . . I think I might.” He dipped back in for another kiss, this one a bit softer than the first, but just as passionate.

A sudden breeze swept through the night and you shivered. It would have been a relief from the heat if you weren’t already having chills due to the man in front of you.

“Let’s get you back inside, doll.”

You were reluctant to let go of him. The moment you’d been waiting for for so long finally happened and you felt yourself scared to be too far from him.

You shifted your weight back so he could get up, not realizing just how close to the edge of the dock you were. Bucky let go of your hips before you could warm him and you felt yourself falling backwards in slow motion. A small yelp left your lips and Bucky’s attempt to save you was futile as your hands slipped through his.

“Cold, cold, cold!” you chanted once you surfaced, barely hearing yourself over how loud Bucky was laughing.

“Are you okay?” he choked out in between his laughter, kneeling at the edge of the dock and holding his hand out towards you. You grabbed his hand with a glare.

“I have half a mind to yank you in here with me.” His eyes widened at your words.

“Don’t you dare!” You tugged his arm lightly, just enough to get his face closer to yours.

“I guess I can spare you. Just this one time.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling yourself up onto the dock. “But I think I deserve a hug for my troubles.”

“Can’t deny my girlfriend that, now can I?” He pulled you into a hug, cradling your head on his chest and pressing his lips to your hairline.

“I’m your girlfriend, huh? Damn, we’re moving fast! Do you have the wedding planned already?”

“Oh please. I think we all know we’ve basically been dating for a while now.”

“Perhaps.” The two of you stayed in that position for a moment longer before another breeze came.  “Should we go in now that we’re both wet and cold?”

“That sounds like a fantastic idea, doll.” Keeping an arm around each other, you slowly made your way back to the cabin, already making plans for a proper date once the trip was over.

---

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[luvlyrv]

Uncover | Seulgi x F!Reader

Genre/warnings: fluff, angst, homophobia (religious)

Summary: You quickly learn that while it was easy to be dishonest with yourself, it was nearly impossible to lie to Seulgi.

Word Count: 4.7k A/N: This has been something wracking up in my brain since June. It's kind of embarrassing that it's taken this long but it's a lovechild of my emotions. Enjoy, and I hope you feel things.

Date: 9/21/21

You can't imagine a day without her, because she's always been there. Right from the day you could remember. You bet that she could be your last memory too.

Your first memory has you sitting in the living room playing with your toys as you anxiously eye the other child in the room. Some strangers had rung your doorbell and your mom and dad had welcomed them into the house. Now they were in the kitchen, their voices blending into each other in the background.

The small girl in front of you decided to take the liberty of picking up your toys and playing with them. She ran around playing in the imaginary world in her head. You think that she's having fun and that you want to have fun too, but you can't seem to move from your position. As you slowly try to build up the courage to talk to her she approaches you.

She had been glancing at you from the corner of her eyes too. She watched your shy self idly playing all alone. She found it hard to approach you, scared of you pushing her away or being mean, but she thought maybe it was worth it. You could be a friend.

"Hi!" The strange girl is right in front of you with one of your stuffed toys in hand. "Do you want to play with me? I'm Seulgi!"

"I'm Y/N…"

For the rest of the hour the two of you chased each other in a shared adventure. Enraptured in your own little wonderland until your parents had to pull you apart.

Soon it became a ritual for those strangers, who you later learned to be Mr. and Mrs. Kang, to visit your house. Along them was always their daughter Seulgi, who wouldn't hesitate to pull you into a large hug right before starting a new adventure with you.

You slightly trail behind your best friend. You smile at yourself from the sight of Seulgi happily skipping, somehow filled with even more vigor than she usually has. She's always been filled with much more energy than you, amazed by even the smallest of things. You suppose something truly spectacular must be happening today for her to feel so extra. She turns her head over to look at you, flashing you her perfect smile with her perfect cheeks. The ones you always want to squish when you remind her of how cute she is.

She continues to bounce but slows down to be by your side. One of the favorite parts of your day, and hopefully hers too, would be the peaceful walk the two of you would always share before and after school. It always reminded you of how close you are. How you can always rely on her to listen and to brighten up your day.

She bites her lip while still smiling. She must be thinking about something.

"What's got you so excited today?" You ask her with a giggle.

"Guess!" She pesters leaning into you. A familiar feeling emerges in your chest from the contact.

"You know I'm really bad at guessing…"

"Well why can't you try?"

"All I know is that it has to be something really special, right?" You decide to lean back and push her a little as a tease.

"It is! Mom and dad bought me my favorite ice cream that we can share later today!"

You laugh at her as she continues giving her dumb smile. Seulgi moves in front of you with her eyebrows raised, waiting to hear your opinion about the news.

"Is that it?" You ask still laughing. She pouts a little.

"What do you mean 'is that it'? It's my favorite! And I get to share it with you!" With that you pull Seulgi in for a side hug.

"I'm kidding, I'm excited too."

You enjoy listening to whatever nonsense Seulgi thinks about and decides to spill to you as you guys continue walking. You feel a bit disheartened at the sight of the school building, but looking at Seulgi again is enough to make the disappointment go away.

As much as you wish it did, your schedule wasn't entirely with your best friend. Instead you had to split up as you entered the school grounds to your different classes. Fortunately you shared at least some classes with her, and most importantly lunch. So when you sit down at your desk with nobody talking to you, you don't feel too lonely. The anticipation of being reunited with Seulgi was enough for you.

As usual Seulgi finds your figure sitting down at a lunch table and immediately rushes towards you. She taps your shoulder as she sits down, hurriedly opening up her lunch box, her beastly appetite striking again.

"Oooh." She oogles as the both of you breathe in the sudden aroma of homemade food. You peer over to look at the contents of her lunch box. You swore that you can see the steam coming off of her rice.

"Open up!" Seulgi playfully demands of you. You oblige as she not so carefully throws a grape your way. It would've been lost if you didn't move your head to make up for the completely inaccurate trajectory.

"How are you still bad at this?" You ask her after chewing.

"Maybe I just like to see you work for your food." You laugh at her response as you carefully pick up a spring roll from your box and place it in hers.

"Mom fried it this morning so you better enjoy."

You enjoy the long-time tradition of sharing food and eating in relative silence. That time was short lived though as a small group of girls joined your table. You didn't mind them much, you'd even consider them casual friends. At the same time though, they were bothering you.

You found it strange that despite finally being with Seulgi you felt so lonely. So lost.

Seulgi's popular, you know that. A lot of people try to befriend her and fight for her attention. Being the social butterfly she is she never hesitated to say hello back and return the friendliness. By proxy you met a lot of nice people, a lot of not so nice people, and more. They never really stuck by for you though. They stayed for Seulgi.

You wish you understood why you were so bothered by those that stayed. Why you were always feeling jealous recently. You wonder if it's natural to feel so intensely sick when you watch your best friend's attention be pulled away by several different girls at a time, or laugh at a guys joke. Well, maybe you do know why.

You quietly sigh and push the thought away, instead trying to join in the chatter and laugh with everyone at the table. Just as you were about to calm down and ease into the group a sudden large group of guys and girls approach. One boy in particular seems to be leading the pack. You purse your lips as you silently watch them come over. Seulgi absent-mindedly continues talking, completely unaware of what was about to occur.

You tighten your hands into a ball as a feeling bubbles inside you. You can't place what it is. Is it fear? Anger? Jealously? It's probably both.

The boy also tightens his hands as they grip onto his shirt. You watch him bite his lip and see how a red color crawls up his neck and reaches the tips of his ears. You hold in a breath as he finally arrives at the table and Seulgi looks up at him.

"S-Seulgi." He barely manages to say her name aloud.

"Huh?" She looks at him cluelessly but gives him her full attention anyways.

"I like you! A lot! So if you can, please go out with me!" The boy's words spill out, as if his mouth was a floodgate holding them back. He reaches behinds him and quickly bends over to give Seulgi a piece of red paper, shaped like a heart. He probably wrote about his feelings extensively on it.

Your eyes had been focused on the love-stricken boy. It's hard for you to move your eyes towards Seulgi. You realize now what you're feeling. You fear what you'll see when you look over at Seulgi to see her reaction.

You notice that she's red too, the color slowly blossoming across her cheeks.

Why does this hurt you?

"Erm, ah, thank you." She says out of politeness and bows back. She gives him a smile and that seems to excite him. "I'll think about your confession."

He eagerly nods his head and leaves the table, happy with the results of his actions. The crowd around him seem to think that was a good ending and started whispering and congratulating him. You look back at your table and the girls are murmuring too.

"He's cute, you should definitely go for him!"

"I heard he treated his last girlfriend nicely. They're still on good terms."

"I've never seen you date before. Isn't now your time to explore?"

Seulgi just takes it all in and nods along with what they say. Your head hangs low as you pick at your food. You don't dare look up. You're scared of seeing Seulgi's face again. You're scared that tears will start falling.

It was like the weight of the world had fallen on your chest.

When the bell dismisses you from lunch you quickly go to your next class. You don't say goodbye to Seulgi or any of the other girls. You feel the light graze of Seulgi's fingertips as she tries to stop you, but you're too fast.

The rest of the school day is you trying to focus on studying, and when your last class finishes you're not sure what you'll do. Everybody leaves the classroom before you as you take some time for yourself. Breathing in and out, you mentally prepare yourself to face Seulgi, as if she was some type of monster.

As you exit the building and get near the gates you see a swarm of people with Seulgi in the center. They're probably there to ask about how she feels about the confession that happened. You sigh and almost contemplate leaving without her, but her eyes quickly find yours. Seulgi politely but abruptly says her goodbyes and runs towards you.

As Seulgi's figure grows nearer there's a feeling of satisfaction. It was like you had won some petty fight, and that feeling was able to erase the fear and nerves you had earlier. A smile grows on your face she reaches your side, your bodies automatically matching your steps. You enjoy the warmth when she locks her arm with yours. Not knowing what to say, you let silence fill the space in between the two of you until Seulgi decided to break it.

"So, do you wanna stay at my place for a bit so we can eat that ice cream?"

Seulgi's keys jingle as she unlocks her front door. You follow in after her, putting your shoes away as she dashes towards her refrigerator to retrieve the ice cream from the freezer. You walk up towards her as she hands one to you. Naturally, both of you make your way outside into her backyard.

Her backyard is quaint, housing a nice garden that her mother often tends and one large tree. The two of you rest under it, appreciating the winding arms of the apple tree that has always given you and Seulgi refuge. You enjoy the taste of the ice cream, perhaps the shade was enhancing its flavor. Either way you understood why its Seulgi's favorite. The refreshing taste and Seulgi's presence puts a smile on your face. You feel yourself opening up again as you guys joke and talk about your day in between bites and licks. By the time you finish eating your ice cream she had managed to convince you that she needed your extra help in math. As always you agreed to tutor her.

She argues that you should stay underneath the tree as she gets up to throw away the trash. You watch as she goes back inside the house, coming out again with a shiny apple in hand that was picked only a couple days ago. You laugh a little as you ask,

"Still hungry?"

"Enough for a little snack."

She sits by you and takes a rest on your lap. You brush her hair away as you look into her eyes. You can tell she's thinking about something.

"What's wrong?" You ask her.

"Well, I was just wondering, why were you upset earlier?" She says in a serious tone.

"Huh?"

"You didn't even say goodbye at lunch, and don't pretend I didn't notice you almost leaving without me." There's a hint of hurt in her voice. You feel bad for not keeping your emotions in check better, that you threw a fit over something so small.

"Well," Your voice trails off as your mind struggles to think of a response, "what does that boy mean to you?" You decide to ask.

"Oh so now you want to know about that too?" There's only a slight annoyance in her voice as she gives you an eyeroll.

"I'm your best friend, of course I'm curious." Seulgi huffs at your response. She can't blame you for wondering so she takes a moment to think before answering honestly.

"I mean, I guess they weren't wrong. He's kinda cute, and I know it took a lot for him to say that to me. I admire him for it." She said it in a casual manner, as if it wasn't a big deal. Yet for you it meant everything. And it hurt.

You can't control the frown that found its way on your face.

"Hey…" Seulgi quickly gets up from your lap. She has a confused expression as her eyes scans yours. "Hey, what's wrong?" Her voice is soft as she puts a hand on your shoulder.

Your chest is about to explode.

"Do you like him or something?" She continues to grip onto your shoulder with a confused face. She thinks she was the one who did something wrong. That she's stealing someone away from you, but that was so different from the truth.

"No, Seulgi, I-" You pause to think about what you're going to say. Something was about to come out instinctively, and you don't know whether or not that was the best decision.

"You what?"

She presses you for an answer but you're still thinking. You're thinking about you know you can't handle her possibly being close to someone else. To share all of her laughs with that boy. To smile at him and spend time with him. To do all the things that exists between you and her. Living would feel wrong if you were no longer the one she ran to and spilled her secrets to.

Who are you if not Seulgi's biggest and only confidant? The only one who could soothe her in her darkest moments? The one who understands every feeling and thought just by the way she blinks?

You're intimately familiar with the feeling in your chest now. You think that you know what it is too, but that doesn't make you hate it any less. If you could, you'd sacrifice every fiber of your being to forget that feeling and throw it away. To pretend it doesn't exist. But your wishes don't make it go away.

You can be dishonest with yourself, but it's impossible to lie to Seulgi. Not when she looks at you like that.

"I like you."

The words are barely a whisper but she hears. Seulgi's hand falls off your shoulder and you want to cry again. You said the wrong thing. She was going to think you're disgusting. She would never go on a walk with you again. You'll never smell her perfume again. You'll never hear her laughter again. She'd never touch you again. Never speak to you again.

Her mouth is open slack. Your eyes water and you breathe in, readying yourself to apologize profusely. To rescind the blasphemous words that slipped out of your foul mouth.

"I'm so sorry. Just ignore it. I take it back. I think I'm sick or something, you know, delirious. Just ignore it please. Please." Tears begins to fall down your face as Seulgi seemingly snaps back to reality. She reaches towards you, taking your face in her hands as her thumbs swipe away the tears.

"Oh my god, no, don't cry." She begs you to stop, but you can't.

"I-I'm, I'm sorry." The tears continue to make their way down your face. A horrible sickness wells in your stomach and suddenly it feels below freezing as you shake uncontrollably.

"No, don't be." She hugs you tight and whispers in your ear. "I like you too. So stop crying. For me, please." She strokes your back as you cry, hoping that the touch could settle you down.

It takes a while for you to register what she says, but as soon as you do your body seizes up. You think that maybe your everything, your soul, has shattered into a million pieces from Seulgi's words. How in the world could it be true? It couldn't be, not in this universe, not in this timeline.

Yet it was.

When Seulgi hears your sniffling stop and your body letting go of its tension she separates her body from yours. Her eyes are all you can see, and all you can see in them is pain.

"I'm sorry for making you worried." You felt guilty that she had to see you cry. The outburst at school wasn't great either.

"Don't worry about it" She reassures you by taking a hand in hers, stroking it with her delicate fingers to show you her affection. For several moments you allow yourself to breathe. Seulgi also took the time to process everything, and the two of you stared at each other with the new understanding of your feelings. Time seems to pass so slowly when you observe each other with care.

"Seulgi…" You mumble when what felt like years passed. She understood what you meant when she saw the way you looked at her lips.

In that moment you couldn't care anymore. Neither could Seulgi, it seemed, as you pressed your lips on hers and she pressed back. Greedily, the two of you dived in for a taste. Your lips on hers, her tongue in your mouth, it was something you needed. It was a flavor you could relish forever, perhaps this is what sin tasted like. Yes, this is what they'd call it. A sin.

It feels like everything has changed, but at the same time it hasn't. You still spend every second possible with Seulgi. You spend your time doing the same things. Yet everything feels so different, it feels brand new. Magically, it feels better than before. Is this the power that Seulgi has over you?

Nobody knows, nobody needs to know. After all, you're still Seulgi's bestfriend. Is there really anything different? Maybe just the tighter hugs, the kisses, and the alluring smiles, but that's all. Life is easy this way.

After bidding Seulgi goodbye in front of her house you go home to eat dinner with your family. You come home and greet your parents with a smile as you rush to join them at the dinner table. They share that smile as they take note of your enthusiasm recently. As you eat quietly for a while your mom finally asks you what's been going on to make you shine so much.

"Well..." You debate on what to say. It's been over a month since you confessed to Seulgi but you were still feeling high. You've been holding it for so long you wished you could tell someone. Why not them? You want them to be happy with you too. "I've been dating Seulgi."

"Hm?" Your mom asks you somewhat aggressively for clarification. The sudden stillness in the air alarms you. You look up from your food to see your mom staring as your dad stops eating.

"I-I told her I liked her and she liked me back." You say hoping to clear whatever confusion was occuring. Yet the look on your parents didn't fade.

"What happened?" You father's question sounds more like a statement as he sternly places his utensils down.

"What do you mean what happened? I just told you."

"What happened to make you like this?" His cold voices breaks a little as you notice his eyes tearing up. Was he seriously upset about this?

"You're joking, right?" Your mom joins in with an angry tone.

"Of course I'm not. Mom, she makes me really happy." You struggle to keep yourself composed under the scrutiny of both of your parents.

"Y/N. You are not happy. You're messing with the devil right now and he's fucking up your mind."

"Have you not been doing your prayers?"

You can barely fight for yourself at the dinner table. Your parents argue with and over you, about the causes and the whys. About the signs and what happens next. You cry as you watch your decision unfold into your nightmare.

You knew deep down inside this would happen, but you hoped and prayed that it wasn't true. Perhaps Seulgi made you too happy, too brave. Everything else felt like it was going right so you convinced yourself this would too. You've flown too close to the sun and it backfired. You should've never said anything.

As you try to block out the fight unraveling in front of you you could only scream one thing while crying. "Wouldn't God want to love me? Wouldn't He want you to love me too?"

The scrape of the wooden chair echos as your mom shoots up straight. "I will not house some heathen under my roof. Get out until you realize what you've done to this family."

It's raining. The relentless torrent of water against your body traps in the coldness from the night, leaving you shivering as your feet move on their own. They move to the only other place that feels like home. The only other person that feels like home.

Soon enough you find yourself in front of a familiar door, incessantly knocking. Muffled footsteps come from the other side of the door as you hear locks being undone until the door finally opens. Instantly there's a look of worry on Mr. Kang's face as he takes in the scene in front of him. He quickly ushers you in and shuts the door.

"Who is it?" A voice rings from upstairs.

"It's Y/N!" Mr. Kang yells back, and soon enough you hear a flurry of footsteps coming downstairs. Seulgi, in her tired glory, appears. She rushes towards you as her father went off to find you some towels to dry off with.

"Oh my god, what happened? Why are you here? Are you okay?" Seulgi's honey eyes are glistening with worry. She doesn't seem to care too much about the fact that you're soaked as she embraces you in a hug. Her body soothes you, its warmth penetrating the cold, wet clothes that clung to your body. You let her ground you back to reality before speaking.

"I don't wanna talk about it right now." You barely manage to get the words out. Your throat feels tight, constricted. Throughout the entire time the tears haven't stopped running down your face as it mixed with the rain water. Seulgi rubs your back as her father comes back. Both of them begin patting you dry.

It feels a bit pathetic as you have two people fretting over you so much, but you're too tired to move. Maybe not even tired, but rather stuck in your own thoughts.

"Go get her something to change into. Are you gonna stay the night?" Her dad asks after making Seulgi go back upstairs to find clothes. You just nod in response and follow her.

When you enter Seulgi's room you find her hastily going through her drawers, finding something comfortable for you to wear. After digging through her clothes she hands you some sweatpants and an oversized shirt, much like her own outfit she was sporting. Your hands are in front of you and holding onto the clothing, yet you still can't seem to move much. Instead your lips tremble as you look at the floor. Seulgi sighs as she nears you, unfolding the clothes and looking at your trembling hands.

"Don't make me dress you." She half-teases. When she realizes you can't will yourself to move a grim line stretches across her face. She wonders what has gotten you so riled up to act this way.

Carefully, she removes your clothes and throws them into the laundry pile. Her fingers innocently skim your body as she puts on the clothes for you, with you doing the minimal movements required to help her. Over the years she's already been more than familiar with your body, and the same for you with her touch. Although you can't vocalize it you silently appreciate the care and intimacy she demonstrates.

Soon enough she finishes though and pulls you towards her bed. Sitting you down she places herself behind you after grabbing a dry towel. She begins to dry your hair while letting you stay silent. Another thing you appreciated about her. She let you take your time.

"Seulgi..." Your voice croaks out as if you've aged several decades.

"Yes?" She stops drying off your hair, instead placing the towel down as she wraps her arms behind you and leans forward.

"They know." She doesn't say anything but her body is still for a minute. Afterwards she finishes drying off your hair, at least one of you can stay calm in this situation. That's what you need. "They told me to come back when I come to my senses."

"It's okay. Everything will be okay. We'll figure something out." You let her guide you down on her bed. Your crying had stopped a while back, but the shock coursing through your body didn't. As Seulgi pulled up the sheets and began to hold you you turned around and looked at her. You looked into the eyes that told you everything. Right now they told you that all Seulgi had on her mind was you.

So you think that you should only think of Seulgi too, because you can always forget about the consequences when you're with her. With a kiss on your forehead she tells you to sleep. She gets impossibly closer to you, holding you tight. Holding you as if you are her treasure.

The familiar trees and houses enter your view as you drive down your childhood neighborhood. Your fingers tap on the steering wheel as you listen to the song Seulgi played in the car. Out of the corner of your eye you see her smile at the thought of visiting her parents. It's enough to make you happy as well.

As you near her parent's house you pass by your own. It's been years since you've been inside, years since you even saw it. You're okay with it though, but your mind still wonders how your parents are doing. You wonder if the house is lonelier now, if they ever think about the sparse letters and phone calls you have exchanged and how they always were fights. Do they know you and Seulgi are coming to visit? Will they want to see you?

Whatever the answer is it doesn't matter. The only family you have to worry about is the girl right next to you and her parents. You feel thankful that she's your first love and hopeful that she's your last. Despite how many times your lives have separated you two, how you both dated other people and had your own quarrels, you guys came back to each other in the end. She changed you during your formative years and supported you as the two of you have grown up.

No one else can make you uncover these sides and feelings like she does.

#seulgi x reader #rv seulgi #kang seulgi #red velvet x reader #red velvet scenarios #red velvet imagines #gg imagines #gg scenarios

[alldayangst]

lovebug (Tom Holland)

GIF is from gaybuckybarnes here on Tumblr. You can access my masterlist here. This was written for @worldoftom’s lolbrosgetsicktoochallenge. The prompt I had was: ‘Tom self diagnoses himself as sick. He’s got all the symptoms. He’s speechless, over the edge and just breathless. He never thought he’d get hit by the ‘love-bug’ again’. Inspired by the song Lovebug by Jonas Brothers!

A/N: Y/N is an assistant director on Cherry in this fic. This has a lot of Cherry (the movie) references but most are explained if you haven’t seen the film. Such as, it was filmed in Cleveland and Morocco, directed by Joe and Anthony Russo. Some scenes in this fic borrow from the movie & I’ve linked clips from the film if you’d like to listen/watch along. WC: 4K.

“Yeah, Mum, I’ve just got like the sorest throat at the moment.” Nikki’s picture cuts in and out on a scrambled screen on the South side of London, her husband’s hand periodically reaching out for her, rubbing her shoulder, then leaving the frame almost as quickly as it came in. Even through the low quality, the pixels dashing about his screen, Tom can make out his mother’s brows knitting together and can’t remove the feeling of utter guilt when he sees her grow redder and redder out of anger, concern and confusion for her son. “But I’ve got Harry here with me.” Harry waves from behind his brother, his trusty mug swapped for a Phoenix Coffee Cup in his spare hand, just to get a taste of the States.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He barely drinks coffee on the other side of the pond, and would bet good money that an at home PG Tips would beat America’s swankiest coffee joint any day. But now, he’s betrayed his usual routine and his body’s all out of whack and his throat is hoarse, he’s breathless even at times.

Harry shoots his mum a half smile to comfort her, but he doesn’t know what it's like to be a mother, and his and Tom’s mouth both form an ‘O’ when Nikki begins to type so hard her screen jolts and Tom swears she’s put a dent in it. “You know what? I’m going to give them a piece of my mind, Tom! They’re overworking you!” Nikki looks intensely to find her baby boy in drug-addled eyes and his jungle of curls on his newly shaven head. She guesses it becomes easier when Tom pushes his face halfway into the screen and pleads like the child he’ll always be to her, “Please, please Mum! I can’t have any days off. Under any circumstances, I need to finish this film!”

Tom turns to his younger brother for help. “Tell her, Harry!”

And as little brothers do best, Harry spills the beans as soon as Tom’s phone is in clutch. “Tom’s fallen in love with the first A.D., Y/N.”

Nikki immediately loses her frown, knowing how love can knock Tom off his feet and blow all the wind out of him. Tom’s father, Dom, re-enters the frame to match Nikki’s grin. He never misses an opportunity to tease. “Oo, caught a case of the love bug, have you?”

Harry has to whip the phone around to dodge Tom’s protesting arms reaching for it again. “Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot.” Harry mutters. Tom’s family doesn’t budge any further, knowing how bad Tom was hurt after his last relationship. They weren't sure when the love bug would come back to bite him again. So after they all shared a knowing look, Harry handed Tom his phone back. “I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”

It all started five weeks ago. Tom, at 24, was beginning to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound.  Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour.

He’d say, perhaps, you were the closest thing to the real deal. The problem was, he didn’t know if you liked him back.

“When life was beginning, I saw -”

“When life was-”

“When life was be-fuck!”

“When life was beginning, I saw you.”

Tom could make a picture book out of the day he first met you. He remembers how your hair looked that day, the speckles of genuinity in your eyes, how your ear-to-ear smile seemed to be a mirror because every time he saw you from then on, he brandished the same beam. He recalls how his eyes went low as he dropped his script to his lap and stared at your lips, so soft and kissable, as you repeated his words back to him: “When life was beginning, I saw you.” Then you chuckled softly as Tom waited patiently for his head and his heart to return to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m dyslexic. I have a bit of trouble reading.”

“It’s cool, I'm the first A.D. That’s what I’m here for.”

You rubbed your hands on the back of your trousers, your mic jostling in your back pocket as you attempted to rid yourself of your nervous, sweaty palms.

“I’m Y/N.” You reached out for a shake only for Tom to cough loudly into his own hand. 

“Fuck! I’m so sorry! That wasn’t me trying to get out of your handshake. I- I-.” Tom looked at his hand for it had failed him for the first time in his life. His hand that had helped him up during handstands, being his crutch through cartwheels and backflips, but had decidedly run out of luck to be on the receiving end of Tom’s monstrous cough impending a handshake with someone his eyes just couldn’t look away from.

You laugh again. Your laugh sounds like melody, Tom muses. Awestruck, he wishes he could play it again, repeat it like a radio hit and never wash himself of the feeling he got when he heard your laugh for the first time.

“It’s all good. I’ll see you around.” You disappear from his trailer, likely on a venture to your own, when Joe and Anthony block his view of you walking away.

Anthony and Joe take on the ghost of you in Tom’s room, “Tom! The man, the myth and the legend!” Joe comes behind him to rub his newly hairless head. “We’re so glad you agreed to do this movie!” 

“Bummed that you’re not coming to the Browns game tonight, though.” Anthony remarks, throwing a football at Joe who sets it in his lap.

“Harry and I, we’re British, mate. We play football with our feet.”

Joe doesn’t know it then, but his next words are the beginning of the end for Tom. He rubs on his football and looks Tom in his eye when he poses, “It’s a shame ‘cause the whole crew’s going. First day of filming celebrations.”

“The whole crew?”

Anthony mumbles an ‘mhm’ as he picks up a framed photo of Tom and RDJ sitting pretty on Tom’s dresser, posing like father and son.

Tom’s usually self assured when he’s on set, but he’s hesitant to say this next improvised line. His voice trails off as he speaks. “Including Y/N?”

“Y/N?” Joe queries, with a smile that’s half scary and half comforting, and the butterflies in Tom’s stomach are begging him not to fuck this up and suddenly every second a word is not spoken feels like hours have passed and he might have ruined things before they’ve even started, gosh he just met you and-

Tom tries to play it cool. “I don’t- they’re cool.” Tom coughs again. “I mean, I don’t really know them but Y/N seems cool I guess.”

Anthony and Joe smile at each other, scrambling to exit. “Whole crew’s going, baby!” Joe beams.

“Please don’t tell Y/N I asked!” Tom shouts before they’re out of earshot.

“Yeah, yeah. Anthony, go long!”

A few hours later, Tom was sitting next to an unamused Harry, you on his left, foam fingers pointing every which way. 

“Are you a big football fan?” Tom asked, imposter syndrome creeping up on him. He had the best seats in the house, but knew not a thing about this sport he’d come down to watch. Meanwhile, crew and crowd alike sat themselves around you guys, cheering leaving throats raw for days to come and a tussle for a foam finger between Joe and Anthony leading to hundreds of sugary popcorn shells scattered on the stadium floor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t ever turn down the option to look at Odell Beckham Jr. Are you?” you replied.

Tom looked over to his brother who sat with his chin in his hand, lips pulled into a thin straight line as his rusty curls were blown about from the wind of brown and orange flags flown from fans behind him. “We could learn to love it.” Tom flashed you a toothy grin, unsure of where to guide the conversation next. He knew for sure that he wanted to keep talking to you, but his ego began putting up a fight, eager to show himself off if you’d have him in any way. Tom sighed. “Truth is, we have no fucking clue what’s going on.” Tom could hear the commentary about a player reaching the end zone, but they were all just words that went into one ear then came straight out of the other.

You giggled. “I have no idea either. We could make up our own rules if you want.”

Tom likes the way you think. He also likes the way you speak. He loves the way you laugh.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” 

You covered your mouth. “Oh, fuck, I hate my laugh!”

“I’d make you laugh a thousand times if I could.”

You pointed to the jumbo screen as Mayfield made a touchdown, unable to stop laughing from sheer nerves as you felt Tom’s hot, burning haze on you. An advert for Cleveland’s Own Phoenix Coffee flashed on the screen as you spoke. “We’ll make our own rules. Every time we see the quarterback pick up the ball, we’ll cheer.”

By the end of the night, Tom is speechless, breathless and over the edge of his chair in faux excitement and anticipation of the quarterback receiving the ball once again. 

“Another coffee?” The service worker asked.

“Yes please!” You and Tom both say in unison, pumped as the quarterback began circling around to collect the ball in open arms.

The footage of the game is cut abruptly as the camera points to a confused, solo Harry; Anthony and Joe are seen at the edge of the frame whispering suggestively and pointing towards Tom, the camera eventually capturing the superstar who looks back up at his own reflection. Poorly green screened hearts flood the screen and the camera pans to include you in the frame too. Tom looks on in horror when he realises what’s going on and how it could be too late, and turns to you.

“I promise I didn’t know this was going on. We don’t have to.” Tom panics. 

You hear him loud and clear, that you don’t have to, but your heart and eleven thousand people are telling you to kiss him otherwise. “Oh well. We should just do it.” you murmur, the bright pink ‘KISSCAM’ logo flashing in and out.

It doesn’t take more than a moment for the gap between you and Tom to close, for your face to get lost behind his, his lips pressing against yours, eyes closed, trusting each other to share your air. This was probably the first thing that night worth cheering for, howls and whistles erupting around you. 

Tom doesn’t understand American football, but he thinks that the best seats in the house could be anywhere next to you.

Harry’s on the phone to his twin brother, Sam, when you and the rest of the crew make it back to the hotel later on. “-Yeah, and Tom spent half the night with the first A.D. cheering and screaming at fuck all.”

The Cleveland Browns lost that night, but Tom remains none the wiser. He stood in the doorway as Harry continued to relay his day to Sam. “Oh, and Tom, Mum said to give her a call, eavesdropper.” He flicks Tom’s reddening nose before closing the door.

A week and a half later, Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He never has the time anymore to attend ‘real’ football games back home, and he actually understands the game back in Britain. But now, he’s cheered at almost every given opportunity to impress you stupidly, and his chest and voice is suffering as a consequence.

You and Tom walked onto set with your pinkies intertwined, growing closer and closer by the minute, but Tom doesn’t miss how Ciara’s boyfriend visits set every day for her, doesn’t miss how they rub their nose together in this lovey-dovey affection he wishes he could bestow upon you.

The scene wasn’t working.

The crew was beginning to grow restless and Tom silently became more frustrated as the minutes went by and he was unable to get his lines right. He remembers how a week ago, it felt so easy. You were there to correct him when he stumbled upon his lines and you picked him up so effortlessly, a twinkling smile on your face. But then? Then you were different. Your eyes were scrunched up behind the lens of the camera and you were mumbling something to Anthony about how the sun was due to go down in Ohio soon so you needed to hurry along.

“Alright.” you announced. “Take five!”

And Tom was thankful, Ciara perched upon a swing for the scene they were filming, Tom dwindling the rope of the swing under his finger as her boyfriend approached her once again. “Hey dude, are you okay?”

Ciara looked at Tom with the same concern, hands finding home in her boyfriend’s nest of hair. “Yeah, Tom, are you okay?”

Tom coughed into his hand. “Yeah, guys, I’m good.”

“I think you’re coming down with a nasty cough.” Ciara muttered.

“Yeah. It’s you guys. You’re too cute. You make me sick.” Tom laughed humourlessly for a short while, wanting to be that adorable with someone, maybe not anyone, maybe just with you someday. Then Tom shook his head, a bitter feeling in his throat as he yawned. “It’s the Browns game. I was yelling and screaming every time a quarterback got the ball. Of course I’m a little unwell. I’ll be good as new in a few days though.”

Ciara already knew Tom wasn’t playing a man with the healthiest of habits, but she worried that Tom was getting this bad this early. “Maybe you should talk to the first A.D. about reducing shoot days from five to three?”

Tom didn’t like the prospect of seeing you less. “Yeah.” Harry had a clapperboard between his hands, leading Tom’s eyebrows to furrow as his brother yelled something about it being take 13. “Maybe.” 

Harry resumed to a new position in your chair, with you taking Harry’s place right across from Tom, a coffee waiting for him when the scene was over like Harry always did. Ciara’s boyfriend left the frame to watch supportively on the sidelines.

“Lights. Camera. Action!” Anthony called. “Time is money, you guys! Let’s try to get this one right this time.” 

They’d been over this already twelve times today.

“Hey, I’m really happy you’re here.”

Ciara read her line back. “Why’s that?” 

Tom could hear whispers of the crew, the sound guy glaring at them in case they were picked up in the scene, and he knew it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t for some reason get the next line out all day. And that reason, unbeknownst to everyone, was because Tom couldn’t say something he didn’t mean - feeling like his heart was locked in a cage for which only you had the key. He looked past his co-star, Ciara, and up at you; feeling so close but you were far away, leaving him all day without anything to say. And overcoming his speechlessness and breathlessness, even in just that moment, he ran his hand over the rope to say, “Cause I like you. A lot.”

Ciara and the rest of the crew broke into a wide smile once Tom finally spoke his next line, but the only person Tom was focused on was you, who wasn’t smiling, but mouthing his words back to him.

Ciara breathed, “Shut up.”

And Tom’s sure to look you in the eye when he says, “I really do.”

When the filming for the day is said and done, Tom makes a beeline for you across the greenery. You hand over his coffee to him, “It’s a little cold now, but a warm hand is holding it.”

Tom quirks an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to hold your hand?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You swapped jobs with Harry, I saw.”

“Yeah, well. It’s good he gets to grips with the job now. You know, in case anything changes.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket. “I should probably give you my number. In case anything changes.”

“Oh no, yeah. Your number is?”

“216-XXX-XXX. Speaking of changes, I heard you’re trying to get your days reduced.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Tom looks at your face that bears no trace of guilt. “You’re just like me!” He pulls you close.

“Tom, if what happened today is because you’re working too much, I’m happy to reduce your time.”

“Nah, nah.” Tom sniffles, rubbing his nose on a jacket probably worth more than your life. “I’m just a bit sick, s’all. I’ll be fine.”

Two weeks pass and Tom’s no better. With the Cleveland game nearly a month ago, Tom has nothing to blame and as first A.D., you’re obligated to reduce his hours. Tom’s on the phone with his mother when you approach his trailer. 

“Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot. I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.” 

You’re so quick to skip happily back to your trailer that you miss Harry calling out to his brother, he’s his protector now that his mother was countries apart. “Tom?” Harry starts.

Tom mumbles an ‘mhm’, hoping Harry would make it quick as he sees you FaceTiming him. If only his mother could see him like this. He’d get to call her tomorrow and tell her he’d called you for the first time yesterday, he could hardly wait to utter, 'I've finally found the missing part of me’. Harry sighs as the FaceTime ringing is relentless. Tom’s eyebrows threaten to meet in the middle of his face as he clutches onto his phone.

“Tom.” Harry begins. “Y/N is giving up assistant director.”

Tom’s really not sure where Harry gets the source of his information from, but he’s sure this isn’t true. He thinks you’d tell him before his brother if you were leaving the film behind, leaving him behind.

The film is due to move filming to Morocco soon, and Tom’s well aware that not all film crew joins them when production moves abroad, but to Tom, you’re an extension of this movie universe. And Tom refuses to leave the memories of you in this filming cycle. “How’d you know?”

“I’m taking over.” Tom’s screen lights up with the glow of your call, and as bright as it is, as bright as you are, as bright as your smile surely is on the other end of the phone call, Tom’s in his deepest darkest feelings wondering how he fooled himself into thinking romance could go right for him this time. 

He’s going to Morocco. You’re not. You’re funny, smart, promising, beautiful. You’ll find someone good for you, a better pair by the time he’s back.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t work out, man.” Tom sulks in his bed, the light from your constant calls bleeding through his bed sheets. “I just wanted to warn you.” Tom nods, screaming into his pillow. Harry decides that’s his cue to leave, a glimmer of light from outside seeping through the crack of the door as Harry escorts himself. Tom musters all his might and courage to reluctantly answer your phone, the ear-to-ear grin he knows so well greeting him once again.

Suddenly, he forgot how to speak. Hopeless, breathless, couldn’t you see that?

“Tom?” You call out his name a few times before cutting straight to the point. “Do you like me?”

Tom shifts slightly but not enough to show that he’s alarmed. “Huh? Yeah, I like you.”

He sits up, but doesn’t reciprocate the outrageous smile you wear like a heart on your sleeve. Tom’s eyes are sunken, dark circles forming under his eyes where he and his disturbed character become one. You suddenly remember why you shouldn’t have run away so fast, perhaps Tom was overworking himself. He continues, “But I’m an emotionally unavailable hopeless romantic. So I wouldn’t waste your time on me.”

Tom can’t help the hurt in his heart when he sees your smile drop so suddenly, knowing it was earnest. “Tom, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, life is unfair. And I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. We wouldn’t work out. And I like our friendship now. We should stay that way.”

You’re not convincing when you nod rapidly, not letting Tom see your face as you play with your fingers to avoid his gaze. “Yeah, I agree.” You’re much less convincing when the last frame Tom caught of you was a shot of tears dripping down your face, as three rings followed you. Tom’s screen went black in your absence, and Tom falls asleep with eyes even redder from crying, and he wonders when he’s gonna shake this sickness.

It’d been a few days since Tom had got his shots to allow him to go to Morocco. He sat opposite the doctor on set, a coffee cup placed on the desk between him.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. Shots always have their side effects, and he’d taken multiple shots in one day. And now, he specifically asked for you to hold his hand during the process, Harry branded in a glinting jaw-drop, only for you to leave directly after. 

“I’m speechless, constantly feeling over the edge, breathless.” Tom explains his symptoms to the doctor. “At first I thought it was because of that stupid football game, then all the coffee I’m drinking, now I don’t know if it’s the shots. I feel like shit, doc.”

“I know exactly what you’re dealing with.”

“What?”

“Lovebug.”

Tom stares at the doctor in utter bewilderment. “You figured that out based on my symptoms?”

“I figured that out based on the puppy dog eyes you gave for your first A.D. when they left without a word.” The doctor begins to laugh softly, but Tom is unamused. How is he supposed to shake this illness after completely ruining your relationship? How is he supposed to mend your bond after talking so recklessly, so emotionally? “Tom, I’m not here to be a fairy godmother, I’m being strictly medical. At a certain point, what you feel in your mind affects your body. So I prescribe that you talk to Y/N and say everything you need to say.”

And while that seemed easy enough, Tom’s ego was at work again, and Tom was feeling far too bruised and wounded to speak to you first. Surely if you cared enough, if you liked him back, if you were willing to be distanced, you would reach out first.

It seems Tom’s pride had forgotten that you already did.

“I heard that this is the exact shit that happened in Cleveland, and he couldn’t get the line out.” Tom hears the whisperings from behind the camera, the amount of familiar faces in the crew dwindling after the change in location. He doesn’t respond. He waits for someone to take five. And when no one throws him a bone, he asks Harry to.

“Alright, everyone take five.”

“Someone get this kid a fucking coffee, he’s always on edge.” Joe instructs.

“And you think giving a kid in twenties coffee is taking him off edge?” Anthony chuckles.

Tom doesn’t care whether or not he gets the coffee, rocking side to side. He’s got all the motion for this role, but he feels nothing. All he felt was for you.

“Here.” Harry sets a Moroccan mint tea down next to Tom, hoping it would calm him down. When Tom takes a few sips, the look in his eyes is less pleading, and everyone’s ready to rumble, this being the last scene of the day.

Harry feeds Tom the line. “Baby, are you seeing bad things?” Tom is seeing bad things. A life without love, a life without you. Unable to contain it all, Tom turns his frustration into laughter. “Why are you calling me baby for, man?” Tom has this ear-to-ear grin but even he feels it's not as innocent, as genuine as yours. He never knew a smile so wide could be so full of pain.

“I have an idea.” Harry saunters off to collect his phone. “Don’t stop rolling the cameras.”

When Harry comes back, there’s sounds of shifting erupting from his phone. “Hi, Tom.” 

Tom didn’t know it would be so bittersweet to hear your voice again. He wasn’t sure if he should put walls up again or if twice was the charm. Even if you worked out in the short term, whose to say Tom wouldn’t get hurt again? And Tom wouldn’t want to hurt you.

“Are they taking good care of you out there? I don’t think I took good care of you.” Tom doesn’t say anything on the other side of the line, so you continue. “I’m not a good A.D. if you’re always sick and tired, and I didn’t want to see you any less, which was selfish of me, so I didn’t change your schedule.” You sigh as you admit why you left. “When you asked, though, I swear I was gonna do it, but then I heard you liked me, and I got carried away. I had to remove myself from the situation to do what’s best for you. Do you understand me? I did it for you.”

“I, uh, I got a diagnosis.” Tom stumbles.

“Oh my gosh, are you seriously sick?”

“I’m speechless. Over the edge, breathless.” Tom laughed dryly, finally feeling like he can choose an ending.

“What did they say it was?”

“Lovebug.” Harry smiles softly at his brother.

Your laugh is like nectar entering Tom’s ear.

“I might just love you way too much, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” Tom tries his best not to sound dejected that you didn’t say it back, knowing he’s already felt the brunt of this heartache already.

“I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too. I love you.” Joe stops recording, and Harry lowly whispers ‘take.fucking.five.’ as he and the crew creep away from Tom’s new found love scene. 

“Anthony, can I borrow your phone?” Harry begins to type Nikki’s number as soon as Anthony gives over the phone. “Mum, Tom just told the first A.D. he’s in love with them so guess who’s out of a job?”

Tom knows why he’s sick. He used to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour. But now, Tom has found you.

#tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland angst #peter parker angst #peter parker imagine #lolbrosgetsicktoo

[talesofstyles]

Stitches and Pucks

i swear i tried writing the whole fic from the 3rd and 2nd pov in the beginning but hockey harry is so dang loud he’s like hang on honey this is MY story so let me tell this one ☠️ so here we are. i had loads of fun getting inside his head though, i hope you like it!

massive thank you to my biggest cheerleader @smokeinherperfume 🥺💛 and ken i’m so sorry for making you read an LA Kings fic 😂 @emotionally-imbruised

warning: smut. there’s no actual bow chicka wow wow stuff though but there’s some thigh riding 👀

[17k]

Harry

I swear I’m gonna kill Zayn.

That fucker just slammed my face into the boards, and as I’m trying to push back while flexing my jaw because that’s the right thing to do when you’ve got your face smashed into the boards, he tries to push me back again. Well, not a fucking chance. I give a particularly hard push back to get him off my back and I’m able to free my stick from the boards and put the blade to ice.

Because we’re playing on home ice here at Staples Center and I know its speed and consistency like the back of my hand, it takes nothing but a short tap on the puck and it shoots back between both of our legs. We scrabble, throwing elbows and shoulders and even kicking at it with our skates to expel it out. It’s a hard-fought battle, probably not lasting more than a few seconds, but it’s starting to wind me up because fuck if I’m gonna let them score. We’re up 4-2 against The Sharks, and with only under six minutes left to play in the game, I’d like to keep it that way.

I really don’t see it coming. And as much as we hate each other’s guts, it probably wasn’t even intentional, but it still hurts like a mother when Zayn’s stick pops upward, the end catching me just above my left eyebrow. I don’t feel any pain at first, but red, blurred vision definitely lets me know I’ve got blood streaming down my face. The ref blows the whistle and the play stops as the penalty is called.

The pain hits me next, and I bend over at the waist, my clear eye watching as a stream of blood hits the ice and freezes. In just about a few seconds, I feel a towel covering the cut and I hear the new team doctor say, “alright… let’s get you off the ice.”

Her hand stays steady at my back as I lift up straight, taking the towel in my own hand to hold it in place. The doctor walks alongside me while I skate to the bench, which has an exit door on one end that will lead back to the locker room. A few of my teammates slap me on the shoulder as I walk past. Harvey, who plays the same position as me but on the second-line yells out, “get stitched up so you can come back out and kick his pansy ass.”

I can’t help but chuckle, because that’s exactly what I plan to do.

“Up on the table,” the doctor says briskly and I watch with my one good eye as she quickly starts preparing the necessary supplies. I hop up onto the table, and in just under four minutes, my very own Doctor McSteamy has my injury evaluated, lidocaine injected, and is now closing the cut with stitches.

Good grief, she’s a fucking vision. Has a slammin’ body too, which no doubt would feel fucking fantastic underneath me. She probably doesn’t even realise it, but she’s got her little tongue sticking out the side of her mouth and I bet that’s something she does when she’s trying to concentrate on what she’s doing. I can feel my dick starting to twitch, so I close my eyes and get my mind out of the gutter before I get a hard-on. Fucking embarrassing.

When I’m sure I’ve got my downstairs head situation under control, I open my eyes again. She’s placing what I’m guessing the last suture on the cut and I make sure I put on my most dazzling smile as I look at her because I can be devastatingly charming when I want to be.

“Hey Doc,” I lean a bit closer to her when she’s done and murmur, “you should let me cook you dinner at my place tonight. You know, as a thank you.”

“No, thank you,” she replies without even looking towards me, preferring to busy herself with putting away the supplies that she used to tend to my cut. “I was just doing my job.”

“Alright then, no dinner at my place tonight,” I say with a sly smile. “But how about giving me your number so I can take you out sometime?”

She snorts in reply. “I’m not one of your puck bunnies.”

“No, you’re not,” I smirk at her. My tone is matter-of-fact when I add, “you’re one hot doctor.”

Not sure what I’m expecting, but this is definitely not it. Most women would blush and drop their knickers in an instant when I give them the tiniest bit of my attention, let alone a compliment, and let’s just say that’s why my bed is rarely empty. But it seems like my charms don’t work on this doctor since all I get is a fucking eye-roll.

“Are you always this forward?” She asks, still not looking at me.

“I’m a simple man, Doc,” I tell her with a shrug. “I see something I like, I go and get it.”

“Good for you,” she says dismissively, but I don’t miss the hint of amusement in her tone.

“Does that mean I get your number?”

She lets out a chuckle and finally turns to look at me. “That means I like your way of thinking.”

“So, no number?” I pout like a damn child, and apparently, the sight is hilarious to her. She throws her head back and laughs, and when she looks back to me, I get a wink.

“Sorry sunshine,” she smirks at me and I can’t help but ogle at her lips.

Perfect fucking lips.

“I don’t shit where I eat,” she adds.

Now, this is funny, so this time I’m the one tipping my head back laughing before I bring my gaze back to her. “You know our General Manager, Sloane Knightley?”

“Of course,” she replies, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“She’s with Alex, right-winger,” I tell her with a grin. “Now, Brynne Adams, have you met her yet?”

“The Athletic Trainer?”

“That’s the one, and she’s dating Matt, left-winger.”

“What?” Her jaw drops and it’s the cutest fucking sight. I’ve always thought of myself as a tits-man, but apparently now I’m a jaws-man too.

“Oh I’m not done yet,” I smirk at her. “Sarah Jones, Head of Equipment Manager, do you know her?”

She nods. “I’ve met her twice.”

“She’s with Mitch, right defenseman. Now, you probably haven’t met this one yet, but our goalie, Adam, is the only one married between us first-line players. His wife, Rachel, is the head of our in-house legal team. So look around Doc, everyone’s bloody shitting and eating around here,” I finish with a grin.

“Yeah, that doesn’t change a thing,” she insists. “That won’t be me.”

I give her one last glance as I hop off the table before I walk towards the door, pretty sure my eyes glitter with mischief as I say, “yeah, we’ll see, sunshine.”

—

The Owner’s Box is a local sports bar in El Segundo. Located only a stone’s throw away from the team’s practice facility at Toyota Sports Center, it has become the go-to hangout for a lot of the players ever since the facility opened in 2000. I like this place because it carries 140 types of beer and I like beer, and honestly the food is great as well.

As much as we like to mix and mingle with the fans, which is super fucking cool in my opinion, the manager always ropes off an area on the second floor for the players so we can drink and chill out without fans swamping us. Usually when we arrive, we’ll hang around the first-floor bar area for a bit to give the fans an opportunity to take pictures and ask for autographs before we head upstairs.

It’s always crowded after the game because everyone knows they can find us here, but it always gets extra busy whenever we win. Tonight, there’s an actual line of people waiting to get inside.

I nod at a bouncer and enter, and it takes me a good half an hour to make it to the second floor where I find several of my teammates sitting at some of the tables or standing around talking.

Winding around tables, teammates, and hot women since several puck bunnies have been allowed to go up the second floor and are doing their best to get noticed by the players wearing outfits that fit them like a second skin, I make my way over to Alex and Matt who are already sitting at one of the tables nursing their beers. Those two are my best friends since we’re linemates, but normally I’d go stand over with the single guys and start my selection process for whatever woman who’d warm my bed for the night.

Not tonight though. Never thought this day would come but I’m not here for a hookup tonight.

Alex gives me a knowing grin as I sit down since I told him in the locker room after the game about my exchange with the hot doctor earlier when she tended to my cut and how she turned me down. Well, he and several other of my teammates since there were a few there in the locker room with us and they had ears to listen. I’m pretty sure I could even hear Mitch chuckle, which is honestly one of the world’s seven wonders since the guy barely talks let alone laughs.

“How’s that cut feeling?” Matt asks as I take a seat in front of him.

“Feels like a butterfly kissed me there,” I tell him, which gets a deep belly laugh from both him and Alex. We hockey players would never admit to being hurt in a fight. Ever.

The voices in the second floor immediately go silent and I see all eyes swing towards the stairs, and when I look there I see our General Manager walks in alongside Coach Higgins, followed by some staff of the team. Cheers start ringing as she walks towards our table, no doubt to sit next to her man, and then I hear a low chant, “Sloane! Sloane! Sloane! Sloane!”

Matt and I do the same since not only Sloane is more of a close friend rather than a boss who signs our paycheck once she steps outside of the GM office, but as the only female GM in the league, she managed to turn our team into champions. We won the Stanley Cup last season and no doubt she’s going to push us to victory again this season. Alex has a shit-eating grin plastered across his face as his gaze focuses on his girl, looking so damn proud of her. Man, my best friend is fucking whipped.

Sloane blushes, slides a grin to Alex, and when the sound dissipates and the guys all start sitting back down, she says, “shut up you big jerks, do you want me to cry?”

We all bark in laughter.

I stand up to give her access to the booth so she can sit between Alex and I, and Alex immediately wraps his arm around her shoulders when she’s within his reach to pull her closer to him and proceeds to give her a searing kiss. I whip my head at Matt and we both make a fake gagging noise.

“God, I think I’m going to be sick,” Matt says and Alex flips him off, still giving his woman a hell of a kiss and without even looking at us.

“I know, right? Not used to you being so fucking mushy mate,” I add. “Gives me the willies.”

Sloane laughs as she breaks the kiss. She leans over and playfully punches me in the arm. “You’ll have a good woman one day, Harry.”

“Yeah,” I drawl, then I give a faux shudder to make sure they understand I like being single. “No thanks.”

“You sure?” Matt cocks an eyebrow, but before I can reply, something behind me catches his attention. “Ooh, isn’t that the new doctor?”

I whip around so fast I fucking knock a bottle of ketchup off the table and it goes flying across the floor. Matt is laughing so damn hard he almost falls off from the booth, Alex is leaning over as he laughs, pressing one palm down on the sofa with the other to his ribs as if they hurt from laughing and Sloane is dabbing at her eyes as she laughs hysterically.

But yes, holy shit, that’s the doctor stepping off the stairs and onto the second floor with Brynne and Sarah. Now, I know Brynne will most definitely walk towards our table since Matt is here, but Sarah will most definitely walk towards the bar where Mitch is talking with some other guys.

Come here. Come here. Come here.

Fuck, she goes with Sarah to the bar.

“Oh no,” Alex says low and in warning. “I know that look.”

I don’t bother to give him my attention, keeping my eyes pinned on my girl. But I do ask him, “what look?”

“Your gaze just became predatory,” he says with a laugh.

“God, you have it bad for her,” Sloane teases but I ignore her as I stand up. Brynne gives me a wink when I walk past her and now I have a suspicion that my teammates blabbed to their women about what happened earlier tonight and now they’re trying to set me and the hot doctor up. Otherwise, why would she even be here? Fucking crazy, I know, but they’re all nuts.

“Go get her, tiger!” Matt quips as I walk towards the bar without looking back at their table.

The doctor has ditched the white lab coat that she wore earlier tonight at the arena, and I’m glad she has her back to me since I don’t make a secret of my ogling. My eyes are pinned to her ass in those skinny jeans and fucks sake I need to get a grip.

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine,” I say with a smile as I stand next to her, trying to get her attention. That was lame, I know, and I feel like I want to punch myself for not being cool.

She laughs and fuck if that’s not the best sound in the world. It’s warm, rich, and husky, which warms my blood and speaks to my dick for some reason. Not sure if she’s laughing because she genuinely thinks I’m funny or is that just a pity laugh, but honestly I could listen to her laughing all day. Wouldn’t be opposed to hearing her moan one day, preferably with her underneath me, but if her laugh is all I can get at this moment then I’ll take it.

“Can I get you a drink?” I ask her and I mentally prepare myself for her to decline since she turned me down earlier in the arena, so it totally takes me by surprise when she only shrugs and says, “eh, why not.”

I’m sure my smile is ten times wider and she sees it. “What’s your poison?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“What if I want the hard stuff?” I raise a single brow. “Sure you want that?”

“What?” She smirks at me and my inner caveman is screaming for me at the sight to just throw her over my shoulder and take her home right this instant. But obviously I won’t do that, since I’m pretty sure that’s called kidnapping and I know I won’t look good in prison stripes. “You don’t think I can take it?”

“Oh honey, I know you can take it,” I laugh as I lift my finger to the bartender. “I’m only wondering how you’ll handle it.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to wait and see.”

—

It’s three hours and many beers later, well for her anyway since I limit myself at two because I’m driving, and we’re stumbling out of the bar, laughing our asses off.

She’s telling me about the funniest thing that happened at the hospital a few months ago. At the beginning they thought they had a domestic situation because the couple came separately; one via ambulance and one via police car. But when they finally got the whole story, it turned out to be an anniversary celebration gone wrong since the wife had a seizure when she was going down on her husband and bit down on him.

“Are you joking?!” I stare at her, mouth gaping in astonishment before I burst out laughing hysterically.

She shakes her head and laughs with me. “I wish.”

“Did you manage to save his manhood?” I ask with a half-grin and half grimace.

“My colleague did,” she replies. “I was busy with the wife, she had rather extensive head trauma.”

“From the seizure?”

“Well, in panic and pain, her husband didn’t think much and just grabbed the closest thing he could find to try to get her to loosen her bite, which sadly was an old rotary style telephone and hit her in the head with it. She was okay in the end, though.”

“That’s one hell of an anniversary to remember for sure,” I chuckle, and the giggle she emits pretty much confirms she’s bladdered. Well, not the kind of drunk where she wouldn’t remember tonight I’m sure, but I bet she’ll wake up with a massive headache.

“I sure hope you’re not driving,” I say as I steady her by the elbow when she wobbles as we step down the stairs.

“Sarah, Brynne and I took an Uber here from the arena earlier,” she mutters as she pulls out her phone from her handbag.

“Let me drive you home,” I quickly say before she gets the chance to order a ride. Not sure why I did that because I certainly have never offered women a ride home without the promise of getting in their knickers, and I can assure you that I won’t be getting anywhere near hers tonight, but maybe I just don’t want this night to end yet.

We’ve been glued at the hip from the moment I bought her first drink, and three hours purely just talking with the same woman? That’s a record in my book. While I’m not ashamed to admit that I also like looking at her, honestly, to me that’s just an added bonus. I think it’s safe to say that I have never met anyone like her before. Granted, with most women usually there wasn’t much talking, but from what I learnt in just the span of three hours is that this doctor of mine is a hell of a lot of fun.

I swear she’s just a pure fucking joy to be around. Conversation with her is like a never-ending merry-go-round and she makes me laugh a lot. She’s bright and witty and she’s one of those people that knows no strangers. She can easily talk about anything from politics to sports even to crude jokes, and add on to that, she’s just so kind and inclusive that several times tonight I actually had to drag her away to one of the back tables so we could have a proper chat without the crowd around us.

“You don’t have to,” she gives me a hesitantly sweet smile.

“But I want to,” I gallantly insist as I turn and offer my arm to her. “Come on, I just want to make sure you get home safe.”

“Well, alright then,” she smirks, her hand easily slides into the crook of my elbow. “I could save a few bucks.”

I roll my eyes and tease her, “didn’t take you to be such a skinflint.”

“Hey!” She playfully slaps my arm with her other hand as she laughs and I’m glad I amuse her.

No, seriously... I like her laugh.

There’s no doubt that she wants me, just as there’s no doubt that I totally want her. We’ve got this really heavy flirting going on all night, and plenty of innuendo, but I won’t be surprised nor disappointed if she doesn’t invite me inside when we get to her home and nothing happens tonight.

We’ll get there, I’m sure.

Until then, I’m completely fine drinking beer, being her personal chauffeur, and getting to know her a little better.

—

We always finish team practice with battle drills. From the end zone face-off spot to either the left or right of the goalie, we pair up and battle for a goal. One on offense, the other on defense, we shoulder, bump, and juke our way across the short distance to the net. It’s a four to five second drill that will make us sweat, and then it’s over. We skate to the end of the line, where we wait to do it again.

“Saw you left with the new doctor last night,” says Matt, my battle partner today, with a shit-eating grin as he taps his stick against my leg. “How was she?”

I ignore his question not only because I don’t have the answer that he’s looking for because nothing really happened after I dropped her in front of her house, but also because this feels different. She is different. Had it been just another one night stand, I wouldn’t think twice before I blab all about the dirty details with my teammates. Great lays, lousy lays, I honestly have no filter and I tell them all.

But this is YN, and fuck if I know why and what this really means. All I know for sure is that I want more than to just tap that. The thing is, my teammates will probably not understand because they can’t really see past the fact that the new doctor is a gorgeous woman who I’ve been lusting after for about a week.

“Dude,” Matt says to get a reaction from me, smacking me a little bit harder with his stick. “How many times did you score her last night?”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” I growl.

“Whoa, dude,” he apologises and I swear his grin gets even wider. “Sorry. I guess you’re serious about her?”

“Serious about what?” Alex pipes up from in front of us. He’s paired with Adam, our goalie. There are four pairs of skaters in front of Matt and me, but there’s an equal number on the other side. We’re alternating.

“None of your fucking business,” I mutter, willing the line we’re in to go faster so I can escape from my nosy teammates and head to the doctor’s office.

Alex and Adam take off, Alex with the puck. They ram their shoulders into each other, legs braced and skates digging hard all the way to the net.

“Did you at least kiss her?” Matt nudges me with a sly grin, still trying. Man, he’s not a quitter.

“No,” I answer shortly, hoping that will satisfy him. “Just dropped her at her house and left after I made sure she got inside safely.”

“No. Fucking. Way,” he quips dramatically. “Who are you and what have you done to my teammate?”

Play continues, the next set of skaters in our line taking off and I ignore Matt but apparently he’s not done poking his nose in my business. “Oh, we’re not done yet buddy. Let’s go out tonight so we can squeeze some more gos out of you. Just you, Alex and I, how does that sound? Brynne said the girls are going to have a girls night out so I know he’ll be game.”

The girls means my teammates’ better halves, and honestly, hanging out with just my bros does sound good. Don’t get me wrong, those girls are cool—yes, my boss, Sloane, included—and they’re fun to hang out with. My teammates sure hit the jackpots with their women. But before Sloane and Brynne came along, the three of us were thick as thieves. There was a time where we went out almost every night and that’s why we’re more like brothers than teammates. Sometimes I miss that since we don’t get the chance to do it as often now that they act like old married couples, so yes, this does sound nice.

However, as tempting as it sounds, I want to hang out with my hot doctor more than my mates. That is if she’ll have me though.

“I can’t,” I say, clearing my throat. I lean in towards him and whisper, “I want to take YN out to dinner tonight.”

“Seriously,” he drawls dramatically. “Who are you and what have you done to my best friend?”

Again, I ignore his comment.

“Alright, I guess that’s a definite no to dinner with me and Alex then, huh?” Matt says in an exaggeratedly glum tone.

“The doctor is way prettier than you,” I reply blandly.

“Fine, go on your date,” he says with a slap on my back. “But I want to book some time with my best friend in the near future if it’s not too much trouble.”

“We’re going on a four day road trip in two weeks,” I mutter as I roll my eyes at him. “I’ll snuggle you then.”

Matt sidles up to me, lays his head on my shoulder, and bats his eyelashes. “Oooh, I can’t wait.”

I shove him off with a chuckle. That bastard.

—

“Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope,” I say after two knocks on her office door. I can hear her chuckle as she tells me to come in.

God, I have turned into such a dork. But I like hearing her laugh and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to hear that sound again and again.

“Hey,” she smiles at me as she looks up from her computer. “What’s wrong?”

“Knee’s a little sore,” I tell her, not feeling the slightest bit of guilt for my lie just so I can have a few moments to talk to her. “Thought you could take a look at it.”

Her brows draw inward with concern and she motions towards a table. “Did something happen?”

“Nah,” I shake my head as I hop onto the table with my legs hanging over the edge and kick off my slides. “Just came off the ice and noticed it.”

“Alright, go ahead and lie back,” she says as she turns to the sink and washes her hands. “I’m going to do some range-of-motion tests.”

I stay silent as she maneuvers my leg, trying not to focus too much on the feel of her soft hands against me or the smell of her perfume. Fuck, she smells good. Fruity and flowery. Like berries and the heart of rose and bitter wormwood, and the scent is fucking delicious.

“Do you feel any pain when I do this?” She asks with one hand on my calf, the other on my thigh as she rotates my knee.

“Not really,” I shake my head. What happens here today will go in my chart and I don’t want to call any attention to my knee.

“How about this?” She asks, rotating the opposite way.

I shake my head again. “Nope.”

The hand on my calf slides down, grasping the bottom of my foot firmly. With the other hand still holding onto my thigh, she pushes hard into my foot. “This cause any pain?”

“Nope,” I say quickly, and then add, “I think it’s nothing more than my muscles getting back in shape. But I figure some ice can’t hurt, right?”

She slowly lowers my leg and gives me a sweet smile. “Well, I don’t think anything’s loose or torn, but if you’re worried about it, I can schedule an appointment with Dr Green.”

She is the team’s orthopaedic surgeon, and hell I’m not about to do that. Talk about an unnecessary red flag. “I think it’s just a lack of conditioning. Got lazy this summer.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” I nod firmly. “I just need some ice and I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Well, alright then,” she says as she turns back to wash her hands again at the sink. “I’ll let Brynne know and have her prepare you an ice bath.”

“Oh hell no,” I quickly shake my head and grimace. “That bloody thing is pure torture and my balls will go into hibernation until next summer. Just an ice pack will do, Doc.”

She laughs again. “Okay, just an ice pack. I’ll be right back.”

She turns and heads through the door to the treatment room and I take a moment to admire her gracefulness as she moves. She looks delectable today in her scrubs, which are the typical light blue you see in the hospitals, and they hang on her tiny frame loosely. I’d actually never seen her in them before since she usually just wears normal clothes underneath her white lab coat in the arena, but I swear this might possibly be the sexiest outfit I’ve ever seen her in. I’m sure that has to do with the fact that I respect her so much as a doctor that it just heightens my attraction to her, and I can’t help but wonder if she’ll play dress-up games with me in the bedroom when the time comes. Because, well… I certainly wouldn’t mind getting a thorough exam from her.

“Here you go,” she says when she comes back. “Scoot back on the table and stretch your leg out. Keep this on for twenty minutes, then you can go.”

She places a towel over my knee, then lays the bag of ice on top.

“Thanks, Doc,” I tell her.

“Just doing my job,” she quips, and then walks back over to the box of supplies she had been unloading.

“Well, you’re very good at it,” I add and I can hear her chuckle. But I got nothing in response, so I add, “speaking about good things… I had a good time last night.”

“Did you?” She quips, still not looking at me but I can hear from her tone that she’s smiling.

“Well, yeah,” I say with a confident nod. “Didn’t you?”

“Eh, it was alright,” she smirks at me over her shoulder as she walks towards her desk.

“I want to do that again,” I tell her nonchalantly before I ask with a lopsided grin that I hope she finds charming, “will you let me take you to dinner tonight?”

“I can’t,” she shakes her head as she turns to look at me.

“Why? Got a hot date already?”

“Nah,” she chuckles. “Sarah invited me to a girls night at her place. I wasn’t gonna go because they seem like a tight-knit group and I don’t want to intrude, but Sloane came by here earlier to ask me again and she’s bribing me with tacos and margaritas, and well… I can’t say no to both.”

“Fair enough,” I laugh. “But have fun then. They’re all really nice, you’ll fit right in.”

“Thanks,” she gives me an easy smile, and I hope it’s subtle enough that she doesn’t realise this, but my breath actually hitch a little while I stare at her lips.

“How about tomorrow night then?”

“Well-” she begins, but she’s cut short when she hears her pager beeping. “Oh shit, I need to go back to the hospital. You think you’re okay there? Go to Brynne if you need something else.”

“Okay, don’t worry,” I tell her with an encouraging smile. “You go and save some lives, Doc.”

—

The arena is packed, the fans are at a fever pitch, and we’re in the midst of a fierce battle with the Anaheim Ducks. We’d taken them on in the first round of the playoffs last season, and while we swept them, they’re still a formidable opponent. Not to mention there’s a long-standing rivalry between the two teams, and add on to that, we’re in the regular season now so every win counts. The pressure is on.

As a center, I’m a shooter, not a fighter. That means I’m relied on to score, not to play defense or get tough with other players. My body is too valuable to mess it up in a slugfest, so I’m rarely enticed into a fight. Sometimes it takes everything in me to keep my cool, but I know I’ve got to trust Mitch and Marcel, our defensemen.

Just like right now. We’re late in the second period tonight, and one of the Ducks players, Jeff Azoff, is being a dick. He cross-checked me in the back, not strong enough to slam me into the boards, but it was enough to alert Mitch who’s skating right behind us.

“Do that again and I’m going to kick your ass,” I hear Mitch tell him. That guy doesn’t really talk, but he wouldn’t think twice before beating the hell out of someone if they mess with our team. He takes his job as a defenseman seriously. When he’s on the ice, nobody dares to touch his guys.

The fucker did it again, still not forceful enough for a penalty to be called, but Mitch was quick to drop his gloves and took on that Azoff guy. He kicked his ass good.

Man, I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side. Mitch is a badass. Unfortunately though, the fucker did land a lucky hit to his temple and his skin split just to the side of his eyebrow. Knowing Mitch, that will be nothing but a ten-minute trip to the treatment room where YN will stitch him up. I’m sure as hell he wouldn’t let her give him anaesthetic so he can get back on the ice as soon as possible. As I watch him skate towards the exit, I make a mental note in my head to buy him a beer tonight as a thank you.

The play resumed, and there are about forty seconds left on the clock before intermission. The Ducks are down 3-0, and they pull their goalie once they gain possession of the puck since they have nothing to lose. Luckily our stamina is stellar, so our legs are still fresh as we defend.

They pass the puck back and forth, looking for the long shot or a quick dump inside for a goal. My back is to Adam, our goalie, as I keep myself facing the action, letting my stick play loose.

The crowd’s screams escalate in tune to the clock ticking closer to zero. With a sharp flick of the wrist, the puck makes it past Alex, our right-winger, to the inside. Players crash the net, Marcel poke checks, and the biscuit shoots out towards me.

It’s a full-on breakaway as I shoot down the ice, one on one against the goalie.

Tap, tap, tap… back and forth… puck to blade of stick.

I close in on the goalie and juke left.

He goes left and I juke right.

He keeps going left, so I keep going right and flip the puck up and over his shoulder into the back of the net. The red light burns bright behind the net and the fans go wild. That was my third goal tonight, and it’s the perfect timing for intermission since there’s no way we can play with all the hats being thrown onto the ice.

It takes merely a second before I’ve got my teammates surrounding me. Alex, Matt, Marcel, Adam and Niall, one of the defensemen from the second line who’s filling in for Mitch. Pats of their gloved hands on my helmet, stick blades gently against my calves.

We skate to the gate that would lead us to our locker room. We all trudge there, taking up spots around the open space as we wait for Coach Higgins to address us. It’s what he does at the end of every period. If we play poorly, we get our asses handed to us. If we play stellar though, like tonight, he’d be effusive in his praise.

But as much as I’d love to hear nice things from the Coach, there’s nobody I want to see more than my very own Doctor McSteamy. And yes, just to put it out here since I’ve been calling the hot doctor by that nickname, I’ve got to admit that I did watch too much Grey’s Anatomy in the summer because there’s not much I could do during the off-season. My sister didn’t let me watch past season 10 though, because she said it’s not worth it.

“Need to get my knee taped,” I tell Alex on my right as I stand up. We have 17 minutes before we start the third period and I figure that should be enough time to see the Doctor and secure a date in the near future. “I’ll be right back.”

“Bullshit,” he grins and there’s a clear amusement in his eyes. “You want to see your girlfriend.”

“Shut up,” I growl.

“What’s this?” Matt asks curiously as he takes a seat next to Alex.

“Our buddy here wants to see his girlfriend,” Alex’s grin doesn’t lessen as he tilts his head at me. “Needs to get his knee taped, he said.”

“Conjugal visit in-between periods? Classy,” Matt says with a salacious grin and I glare at him. When his laughter dies down, he points out, “okay, jokes aside, that’s a shit excuse. If you really need your knee taped, you’d see Brynne and not YN.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got nothing else here,” I grumble like a stroppy child. “Can’t hit my own head just to get a cut, can I?”

“That would be outright dumb,” Alex laughs. “But come on, I’ll go to Brynne and make up something so at least you can tell the doctor that she’s busy.”

The treatment room is just down the hall from the locker, and when I get there, I notice the door is half open. I see her sitting on the little desk with her computer, so I knock lightly on the door to get her attention.

“Hey, you got a minute?” Her head swings up when she hears my voice and it takes everything in me not to just march there and kiss the fuck out of her when she offers me the sweetest smile. Crazy how much effect this woman has on me. “I need my knee taped but Brynne’s busy.”

“Sure, I was just reading the players’ medical chart,” she replies. “You were on fire out there by the way.”

“Thanks, Doc,” I smile at her.

“Skates, socks, shin pads and pants off,” she says as she walks towards the supply cabinet.

“Jock strap too?” I can’t help but smirk.

“No,” she rolls her eyes playfully as she grabs a towel and hands it to me. “Put this over your lap.”

“Do I have to?”

“Well, yeah, unless you want me to get a peek of your dick.”

“You know I wouldn’t be averse to that, Doc,” I say with a waggle of my eyebrows.

She gives me a school teacher, disapproving-type look but the slight twitch of amusement in the corner of her mouth is hard to miss. “You’re so bad.”

“You have no idea,” I grin, but she doesn’t see it because she has her back to me. She’s pulling another cabinet open to get adhesive, gauze and tape before knocking it close with her shoulder.

This is ridiculous but I’m actually a bit self-conscious of getting practically half naked in front of the hot doctor. I have absolutely no clue why and this had certainly never happened before.

I shed my gear from the waist down and she keeps her back to me until I get on the therapy table and the towel is covering my lap. She lays out her supplies on the table beside us, her slender fingers using a pair of scissors to open a new package of tape.

I take a moment to admire her as she cuts off uniform lengths of tape and attaches them to the table. She’s not in the scrubs I saw her in last week, but if you think I’d be disappointed, even just slightly, then you’d be wrong because you could put her in a burlap sack and to me she would still absolutely look edible.

Tonight, she’s rocking a mustard-yellow trouser suit with wide legs and a cross-over pleated blouse underneath her white lab coat. The crisscross swath of silk that wraps around her upper body does lovely things to her tits, and I realise I’m quite the pig to be thinking about her this way.

“Left knee?” She asks. “I’ve just finished reading your medical chart when you came in. Arthroscopic medical meniscus repair two years ago.”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Sometimes it feels a little loose. A good taping is all it needs.”

“Any soreness?” She asks as she steps up in between my legs that dangle over the table.

I shake my head and say, “nope.”

“Clicking or popping?”

“Nope.”

“Locking?” She inquires as she lifts her face up to mine.

She’s fucking close enough I can smell her minty breath. I could easily kiss her, but I’d probably get kneed in the nuts, so I just shake my head and say, “nah, just feels a little loose.”

“Okay,” she says, laying a soft pat on my thigh. It’s nothing but a move of reassurance, but fuck if I don’t feel it all the way through my gut.

She grabs her supplies and I can’t keep my eyes off her as she gets to work taping my knee. It takes merely a few minutes, and then she finishes the wrap, holding the end while taping it with the precut pieces. “There you go,” she says, stepping back.

“I’ve got something to confess. My knee was absolutely fine,” I blurt out, the words popping out of my mouth so suddenly, I’ve got no clue where they came from. Clearly my subconscious decided to overtake my sensibility and make itself known. “I came here because I wanted to see you. Thought I’d try to get your phone number and a date one last time before I give up.”

She gives a tinkling laugh. “You’re not a quitter, are you?”

“Well, no,” I reply with a grin. “So, tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at seven. How does that sound?”

“Listen,” she smiles at me sweetly as she begins, but I don’t like the sound of it. Nothing good ever comes after ‘listen’. “You’re a nice guy-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I cut her as I hold my hands up. “Don’t go with the ‘nice guy’ brush off. Clearly I’m not if you won’t give me the time of day.”

“I just don’t think we’re looking for the same thing-”

“What?” I ask incredulously.

“Look, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem more like the bang ‘em and leave ‘em type to me.”

“Is that really how people see me?” I ask her curiously, without an ounce of defense in my voice because there’s no point in denying that. I really don’t care what people think, but I’d like to hear her opinion.

“You’re a player, Harry,” she says with a chuckle. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re young and in your prime. You should totally be sowing all your wild oats. It’s just… I’m at the point in my life where I realise that meaningless sex without something deeper isn’t very fulfilling. I don’t want that anymore.”

I feel a metaphorical light bulb goes off in my head.

I know she doesn’t mean to, but fuck, she hits me right where it hurts. She’s called that exactly right. This is something that I’ve actually realised and known for a while, especially after seeing my best mates being the happiest they’ve ever been after they found their women. There’s not an ounce of regret in what I did though, because just like my girl right here said, there’s nothing wrong with that. There was a time when burning my way through all the hot women in LA and having them take turns warming my bed had its appeal, but not anymore.

Maybe this is why I’ve been feeling unfulfilled lately. I know I’ve got a great career, more money than I could ever need in a lifetime and endless selection of gorgeous women to warm my bed every night. What more could a man possibly ask for, right? But at the end of the day, it’s just me in a monstrosity of a house that I call home.

Maybe deep down I know I don’t want it to be just me anymore.

“I think I’ve actually known that for a while, but the way you point that out, I think it’s drilled home now,” I admit as I face her.

“What do you mean?”

“That casual, meaningless sex without something deeper isn’t very fulfilling,” I say with a smile. “I mean, yes what I did was fun, but then I look at my best mates and see how happy they are with their women. Of course I rib them good because hey, that’s my job as their best mate…”

She laughs.

“...but that doesn’t mean I never look at them and think, fuck, I want that one day. Maybe the idea didn’t really appeal to me because I had never found the right person, who knows. But I swear I don’t want just sex with you. I want more. Do I know what I’m doing? Fuck, no. I haven’t even been on a proper date in years. But I do know that I genuinely want to get to know you better, Doc, that is if you give me the chance.”

She gives me a dopey smile when she asks, “you mean all that?”

“I really do,” I nod solemnly. “Now let me prove it to you. Go on a date with me.”

“Tell you what,” she begins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “If you go back on the ice and win the game, we can go to The Owner’s Box when you’re done to celebrate just like the other night. And if you behave, I’ll give you my number this time.”

“Want me to behave, huh?” I say teasingly with a waggle of my eyebrows. “Don’t fancy a bad boy?”

“Oh I actually have it bad for bad boys,” she smirks. “My favourite character in Harry Potter is Draco Malfoy.”

“Okay, I’ve got a counter offer,” I say as my laughter dies down. “If I get MVP tonight, which I’m pretty sure I will since you said it yourself that I’m on fire tonight, you give me your number straight away after the game and let me take you out to dinner. I’m thinking seven tomorrow night.”

Another roll of those gorgeous eyes that twinkle slightly at me. “Pushy, aren’t ya?”

“Only when I want something,” I tell her with a grin. “And I want you.”

“So do you want me or do you want to go out with me?” She asks slyly, tilting her head to the side.

“You gonna kick my balls if I say both?”

“I admire honesty,” she murmurs softly in that sexy, husky voice that seems to flow through my body and straight down to my dick.

“Hey boyfriend and girlfriend,” I hear Matt chirps from the doorway and my spine stiffens involuntarily. His shit-eating grin doesn’t lessen a bit even when I give him a glare. “Hate to steal your man, Doc, but the game is starting again soon and we kinda need our favourite asshole right here.”

“You two break a leg,” she chuckles. And then as an afterthought, she adds, “just so we’re clear, I don’t mean that literally.”

—

Manhattan Beach’s high-end strip of boutiques and restaurants are hugged by the beach on one side and some of California’s most expensive real estate on the other. It’s southern end blends seamlessly into smaller Hermosa Beach, which is similarly quiet but has a tight concentration of bars and restaurants near the town’s pier that attract bar-hoppers at night and sun-bleached dropouts during the day.

The Kings players’ houses are scattered evenly across the two towns. Some of us are clustered within a block or two of several teammates; others sprinkled little more than a mile or two away. All but one of the first-line players live in Manhattan Beach though, and we can easily walk or ride a beach cruiser to everyone else’s house.

YN lives in Silver Lake, and the drive to pick her up takes me about forty minutes. I know she must make a pretty good bank being an ER doctor, not to mention that she works at two places, but her house doesn’t scream that. It’s rather tiny, I’m betting not more than seven or eight hundred square feet max, and there’s not much of a porch but on the outer edge is a hanging basket of flowers.

There’s no doorbell so I rap my knuckles on the door. Flecks of peeling paint get knocked loose and fall to the concrete porch.

“Coming,” I hear her yell from inside and I can imagine her plopping in an earring, grabbing her handbag, and wondering if she turned the curling iron off. She sounds frazzled and rushed and I can’t wait to fucking see what she looks like when she opens the door.

And there she is.

She has a black dress on, and it’s not little but it’s spectacular. The neckline of the dress skims just below her collarbone so no skin or cleavage is exposed, but it doesn’t matter because the narrow waist and flared hips, all cocooned in black is sexy as shit. The hem of her dress comes down below her knees and the dress is so well fitted that I know there has to be a slit up the back so she can walk.

“Good grief you’re a sight for sore eyes,” I mutter as I let my eyes roam down and then back up again to find her smirking at me.

She’s got an off-white clutch bag tucked under an arm, and her head is leaning to the side so she can put her last earring in, exactly as I’d imagined.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she says, still smirking at me. I’d worn my best suit tonight in black with black shirt underneath and no tie. Glad she likes what she sees.

I step back so she can lock her door, and she turns to me as she tosses her keys in her clutch. I hold my arm out to her and ask, “ready?”

She nods and smiles as she curls her fingers in just below my biceps, then I escort her to my car.

I’m taking her to this new restaurant that both Alex and Matt recommended when I asked them last night for the finest restaurant in LA. It had been so long since the last time I took a woman out for a proper date, so I knew I needed to ask my mates and that they would have the answer. They both swore by this place called Apron, but then told me it took at least two weeks to get a reservation. Luckily though Alex had booked a table for him and Sloane tonight, and they gladly gave me the reservation. Sure I had to take a good deal of ribbing from my teammates and their women last night at the bar where we celebrated our win, but I knew it would be worth it.

The drive to the restaurant is short, only about ten minutes. And we lapse into the same easy conversation right away, just like we did the other night at The Owner’s Box. Today was my day off and I did absolutely nothing so I’ve got nothing interesting to tell, but she had plenty of exciting cases at the emergency room today, which included a toddler swallowing a penny.

“Holy shit, how did you get the coin out?” I ask her.

She laughs. “You don’t take it out. You’ve got to let the kid pass it naturally.”

“He can do that?”

“Well,” she begins. “I did take an X-ray first to make sure that it was small and could pass safely.”

“Okay, okay, okay… what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever had to remove from a patient?” I ask her with childish curiosity.

“Honestly, I think I’ve removed everything on the surface of the earth,” she snickers. “Coke bottle, tapeworms, coins, candles, but the strangest has got to be a stuffed animal. It was a Curious George doll, and… let’s just say that he’s no longer curious.”

“You’re joking right?” I bark in laughter as I park my car. We’ve arrived and I swear that was the shortest ten minutes of my life. “I mean… who does that?!”

“I wish,” she says with a wrinkle of her nose. “You’d be surprised if you know how many weirdos out there.”

I’m still chuckling as I exit my car, then I walk over to the passenger side to get her. I hold my arm out to her, and her hand so very easily slides into the crook of my elbow.

“You don’t think I’m one of them, right?”

She gives me a playful shrug. “Well, I don’t know, you might be a weirdo... I mean, I don’t know you well enough yet.”

I give her a smart-ass smirk. “Let’s remedy that then.”

—

“How’s that one?” I ask her as I finish a mouthful of this chocolate thingy. It was a chocolate ball concoction the waiter had poured more hot chocolate over, which then melted the ball to reveal a raspberry chocolate torte inside. She had a bite, but it was too rich for her. I agree though, it was a lot of damn chocolate.

“You’ve got to try this,” she says, spearing the lemon meringue pie with her fork, top it with a little bit of pine nut ice cream and holding it over the table to me.

It’s a completely intimate move and one that I didn’t expect from her tonight. I mean, she was reluctant to go out with me in the beginning and needed some convincing, so I expected her to be reserved and cautious. But hell I’m not complaining.

I lean in and let her feed me the dessert. The flavours explode on my tongue and I think that’s the best we’ve had tonight.

I don’t normally indulge in dessert, but they all sound good so I told her we should order all the ones we like the sound of. Which was most of them except that cucumber mousse and pickle ice cream because those sound like disasters on a plate.

“Good, huh?” She asks with a smile.

“Really good,” I tell her. “I think I like that one best.”

“Finish it then,” she says as she pushes the plate towards me. “I can’t possibly take another bite. I’m stuffed to the brim.”

“Alright,” I say with a chuckle as I pull the plate closer to me. “So, when are you free again so I can take you out to another date?”

She chuckles. “We’re not even finished with this one.”

I roll my eyes at her, then I ask, “are you having a good time?”

Her smile turns dopey and I know she’s just as smitten with me as I am with her. “This is definitely the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

“If we were finished, considering how things have gone, would you go out with me again?”

“I would.”

“Good,” I say with an emphatic nod. “So, weekend or weekdays? When will it work best for you?”

—

I slow the speed on the treadmill, taking me down from a brisk run to a slow walk so I can cool down. Normally I like to run outside in the morning, but I woke up late this morning and we had a team skate scheduled at ten, so I figured I’d just do my workout afterwards at the arena.

Only a few of us actually have a gym membership outside. Most of us prefer to work out at the arena because not only is the equipment better, but we also have an abundance of teammates to work out with and that’s always nice.

I walk for about five minutes to cool down, then I turn the machine off and wipe my face with a towel. I grab my phone and water bottle and turn for the barbells, as today I’m working my chest and shoulders. Mitch and Marcel are already lifting, both defensemen who tend to focus on brute strength versus speed and stamina, so I’m not surprised they didn’t go for the treadmill. I also see Matt there, and I bet Alex will join us too after he’s done cooling down.

“Have a nice run, princess?” Marcel asks dryly as I set my stuff down near the bench press.

“I’m not the one who has to prove my manhood by how much weight I can lift,” I return with a sly grin.

“Yeah, well, your manhood is in a dry spell,” he says as he loads some weight onto the bar. Pre the hot doctor, both Marcel and I were the only single guys in the first line. He’s just as much as a player—on and off the ice—as I was, but now I gladly pass the title to him.

“Not true,” Matt quips with a grin. “He went on a date last night.”

“No shit,” Marcel turns to me in astonishment. “With who?”

Before I can even answer Alex throws a quick glance at us, flashes a shit-eating grin, and yells from the treadmill, “the new doctor.”

“But I saw you two got pretty cosy at The Owner’s Box last week,” Marcel says, as if he’s still confused as hell.

“Well yeah, she was cool, so I took her out again,” I say firmly.

“Dude, what’s wrong with you?” He blinks at me. Eyes all round and not comprehending. “You never look at the same woman twice.”

“So?” I ask, playing dumb.

“Ooh, I get it,” he says with a smirk. “Pussy that good, huh?”

“Hey,” I cut in with a warning. “I’m not there yet.”

They all suddenly stop whatever they’re doing and turn to me with raised eyebrows. Yes, Mitch included, which I’m actually quite surprised.

“Whoa, hang on,” Marcel says. “You haven’t tapped that yet?”

“You’re serious?” Matt looks at me in disbelief. “Not even last night?”

“Dude, I gave you that reservation last night to give you the opportunity,” Alex says as he walks towards us. “I was genuinely worried about your balls.”

They’re still looking at me confused, but Adam howls with laughter. “Don’t listen to these pigs. Rachel and I took it real slow at the beginning of our relationship too, and I got to tell you, the anticipation was half the fun.”

It’s true. I’m in no rush with YN because I know we’ll get there sooner or later. I can be patient when I want to be, and right now I honestly want to. I want to prove to her that when I said I wanted to get to know her, I meant her as a person and not just carnally.

I could tell that I confused her last night when I dropped her off at her doorstep after our date. I gave her nothing but a soft, brief kiss to her cheek, then told her to get inside, lock up and get some rest. Sure, she was confused for a few seconds, but the smile that I got after she realised that I really did want to take things slow was so much more than worth it.

“So you think this thing with the hot doctor is going to go the distance?” Matt asks me.

“I do,” I say confidently. I’m not dumb enough not to realise that she hasn’t fully let her guard down yet for whatever reason. Maybe she’d been badly hurt in the past, maybe it’s my past that causes her to be a little bit sceptical, I mean... let’s be honest, I was a player through and through. But that doesn’t scare me though, because I know I’m in it for the long haul. So yes, I can say it with confidence that this thing between us is going to go the distance.

“Well, if you fuck it up, I’ve got the first crack at her,” Marcel says with a salacious grin. I don’t think twice before I grab my wet towel and throw it at him. It hits him right in the face, and my teammates howl with laughter.

All this talk about her makes me want to see her again. I’ve secured a second date last night for next Wednesday since that’s when both of us will be free, but that’s still four days away and I can’t wait that long. So I pull up my phone and type out a quick text to her.

Hey, what are you doing today?

I grab my water bottle and take a slug. Before I put my water bottle down, I already got a response. I need to go and get a new bed frame. Really can’t stand this old thing anymore.

I can’t help but chuckle. She did tell me last night about her bedroom set which was apparently really old, but she couldn’t get rid of it since it’d been in the family for a few generations and her grandmother gave it to her when she bought her house.

Want some company? I quickly type.

She’s just as fast in her response. You want to go with me buy a bed frame?

Well, yeah. I’ve finished the team skate this morning and will be done with my workout soon. I’ve got nothing to do after and I want to see you. I reply.

Alright then. She texts me back within a minute. But I’m on-call though so I can be called to the hospital any time.

Doesn’t matter, I still want to see you. I text her back. When can I pick you up?

Give me half an hour.

Perfect.

—

I’ve bought three houses in my twenty-seven years of life; the one I currently live in, one in Toronto when I was still with the Leafs before I got traded to the Kings and one for my mum back in London. And yet not once have I ever gone on a furniture shopping.

Until today.

That was something I never in a million years would have dreamed to do, simply because I hated shopping with a burning passion. Hell, I didn’t even buy things for my own house because I paid the previous owner to leave everything behind. That kind of thing was honestly just something that I would have never taken the time for.

And yet, in shuffling through my memories, I really can’t remember having such a great time before. All I know is that I don’t want the day to end, and I also know that it has everything to do with the company.

I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, and technically we’ve only been on one date even though we saw each other quite often at the arena. But there was nothing odd when my hand would find its way to her thigh, or when she’d drape her arm across my shoulders so her fingers could play with my hair as we cruised along from one furniture shop to another. I love that we’re at ease with each other as if we’d known each other forever, not to mention that she’s also one of the easiest women I’ve had the pleasure of talking to in a long time.

Sadly though, it had to end when she was called to the hospital. Luckily, it was just in time after she chose a particular bed frame that she liked. It’s a classic canopy bed in live-edge oakwood with a brushed brass iron base, and I felt like a pig because even as we were still at the shop, I was already thinking about which ties from my collection would work best.

They offered same-day delivery since they had it in the storage, and since she was needed at the hospital, I offered to wait for the delivery at her home for her. She agreed, so she gave me her key after I dropped her at the hospital.

And here I am. Sitting on her bedroom floor trying to build this bloody nightmare because apparently they didn’t offer assembly service. I’ve been at it for an hour and a half now. Okay, no, more like an hour and ten minutes because I spent about twenty minutes fixing the sink in her en suite. I noticed the faucet was leaking, and I needed to step away from that bloody bed for a little anyway.

Now I don’t have another excuse, so I’m back on hammering one of the bazillion nails into the wood. I’m so focused on the task that I didn’t realise YN is home until I hear her chuckling as she walks into her bedroom and say, “you know, that is the kind of pounding that’s supposed to happen after you’re in the bed.”

I can’t help it. I fucking throw my head back and bust out laughing. “Sod off.”

“You don’t have to do it, that looks complicated. I’ll just hire someone to put it together tomorrow,” she says with a sweet smile. “Just get up and go sit on the couch. I just need to go to the bathroom real quick and then I’ll join you.”

“Yeah, that won’t do, Doc,” I say firmly. “I’ll still finish this bloody thing even if it kills me.”

“Stubborn,” she quips affectionately with a roll of her eyes as she heads towards her en suite.

“Smart-ass,” I reply with my eyes pinned to one of the million pieces of her bed frame, also with affection.  

“Harry?” She calls out from her en suite.

“Yeah?” I answer, when I look up, she’s leaning against the doorframe and looking at me confused.

“Am I crazy or did you actually fix my sink?” She asks with an arched eyebrow. “Because I swear the faucet still leaks a little this morning.”

“Yeah, I did,” I say with a wave of my hand. “I needed to walk away from this for a minute and when I went to your en suite, I noticed it leaked. Not a big deal though, took me only about fifteen minutes.”

“Well, good to know that if you ever quit your day job, you have a career in plumbing,” she snickers. “But seriously, you didn’t have to do that, and you certainly don’t have to finish that.”

“It’s what any boyfriend would do, Doc,” I say with a nonchalant shrug.

“You’re not my boyfriend.”

“Yes I am,” I roll my eyes. “I took you on a date last night and I’m taking you out again on Wednesday. I’m not seeing anyone else, so that means we’re dating. And technically that makes me your boyfriend.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she sputters but I can see the amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Besides… I might be seeing someone else.”

“You’re not,” I say with relative certainty.

“How did you change just like that is beyond me,” she murmurs, the appreciation in her voice evident.

I let out a chuckle. “Just get your butt in there and go chill on the couch after. I’m pretty sure I’ll be done in about half an hour, then we can order something for dinner.”

“Yes sir,” she says with a mock salute, which makes me snort.

—

An hour later, her bed is finally built and as I walk into her kitchen I see her putting the plates on the table. It smells phenomenal here, and I’m surprised when I look at the table because how the hell did she manage to cook all that in an hour?

I take advantage of her back facing me by putting my hands at her hips and pressing my chest onto her back. I nuzzle my face into the crook of her neck and it takes everything in me not to kiss her there. The combination of her perfume and the faint smell of antiseptic is sexy to me. So I can’t help but hum and mumble, “smells delicious.”

“The chicken?” She murmurs.

“Among other things,” I reply softly.

She chuckles. “Come on, let’s dig in while it’s still hot.”

I take a seat in front of her before I select a drumstick from a plate of fried, spicy goodness and put it on my plate. There’s something about the fact that YN made it that makes me believe it will be the best chicken I’ve ever had. Today will no doubt go down as one of the best days ever, which I seem to think a lot when I’m around this woman.

As she dishes me some salad, I honestly can’t wait anymore and take a bite of the chicken. Her eyes snap to me when I let out a groan.

“Good?” She asks with a grin.

I can’t help but let out another groan of approval as I take another bite. “Damn, Colonel, you never told me you make a mean fried chicken.”

“I’m not just a pretty face,” she shrugs smugly.

“Or a fine ass,” I tease. “If you want to quit your day job you can totally open up a fast food chain. Your fried chicken puts KFC to shame.”

She laughs as she cuts some cornbread and puts it on my plate. “Now try this, I make a mean cornbread too.”

“Mmm,” I say in pleasure as I take the first bite.

“Okay, you need to stop with the sexy moaning,” she grumbles with a tiny smirk before she turns back to her dinner. “You’re so bad. I think you’re trying to take advantage of me.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” I laugh. “And besides, you’re just as bad.”

“True,” she replies with a sly smile. “I can be bad too.”

“But just how bad are we talking here?” I ask with a smirk.

“Not bad enough to sleep with you tonight,” she says before she takes a sip of water. After she swallows, she adds, “but totally bad enough I might get frisky with you.”

I give her a mock groan and look up to the ceiling. “A tease. I’ve saddled myself with a tease tonight.”

She laughs.

We talk about what she did at the hospital today as we eat, and her job in general, and it never fails to thrill me the things that she can do. She’s a jack of all trades when it comes to medicine, needing to be able to diagnose and stabilise, often in pressure-filled situations where time is of the essence. I can’t even imagine having the responsibility of someone’s life in my hands like that, and yet she seems to be able to leave it all behind. She talks openly and often with humour about her work, but she also admits that sometimes she can’t help but bear the burden of death too when her skills just don’t make a difference.

I admire her so fucking much. Never admired a woman before, but in fairness… I never looked too deeply at them.

I’m seeing YN through unfiltered eyes and I like everything that I’m seeing.

—

Something is squirming in my arms and it wakes me up.

I tighten my arm around it in response to the movement and pull it back slightly against my body.

Wait? What?

Sleep.

Couch.

We fell asleep on her couch while watching a film.

It all comes back in a rush. Our totally awesome conversation over equally awesome food she cooked that I couldn’t stop raving about all night. I had three pieces of chicken by the way. We talked more about our backgrounds, me growing up in Cheshire and her childhood in South Carolina. We had a few beers, and when she asked me if I wanted to stay a bit and watch a film or something, of course I said hell yes.

The fact that she asked made me smile, because it meant that she was having a good time too with me. So we ended up on her couch watching Jaws, and I liked that she didn’t even hesitate when I lay down on her couch, pressed my back against the cushions and patted the area in front of my hips. I’m pretty sure she can see the devilish gleam in my eyes when I said, “come on… let’s cuddle.”

“Wow… Harry Styles, big bad hockey player, shameless flirt, total panty dropper. Didn’t peg you as a cuddler.”

“I’m a big teddy bear, honey,” I said with a grin and open arms.

She fell asleep first, and I know I should’ve left but the slightest movement from me would definitely wake her up. I know she must be tired so I decided against it and closed my eyes instead.

“Morning,” she says in a husky, raspy, ‘I just woke up’ voice and it’s sexy as fuck.

“Morning,” I reply, my own voice is still rough with sleep. I wonder if she thinks that’s sexy too. “You slept good?”

“Mhmm,” she hums softly, but then immediately groans as she glances at the clock above the telly. “Ugh, I have to be in the hospital in about an hour.”

She then tries to extricate herself from my arms, but I pull her back in close and nuzzle her neck as I point out, “you work a lot.”

“Ha, tell me about it,” she says with a dry laugh. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love my job. It’s just I wish I could sleep for three days straight sometimes.”

“Do you even have a day off in the week?” I ask curiously.

“I do,” she answers with a nod. “It was actually my day off yesterday, but I was filling in for a colleague.”

I loosen my hold and let her sit up in front of me. “Go get in the shower, I’ll make us both a quick breakfast.”

“You can cook?”

“Well, if I give you food poisoning you’re heading to the hospital anyway,” I chuckle.

In the kitchen, I grab some eggs and a pack of English muffins from her fridge. A quick breakfast sandwich sounds good, and portable just in case she needs to eat on her way to the hospital. I crack open a couple of eggs, scramble them with a fork and add salt and pepper while my skillet heats up. I put a bit of olive oil in the pan before I toss the English muffins into her toaster to crisp, then set coffee to brew in her Keurig. I’m moving around her kitchen as if I was born here.

By the time I pour the eggs into the pan, she walks out of her bedroom in her scrubs. I smile and nod at the Keurig as I say, “coffee’s ready.”

“And damn, you’re hot in those scrubs,” I add with a grin, giving the eggs a last scramble before pulling them off the heat.

“You’re joking right?” She says, wrinkling her nose as she grabs the milk from the fridge and turns my way, letting the door swing shut on its own.

“I’m serious, Doc,” I say with a smirk. “I wouldn’t mind getting a thorough exam from you. Preferably in your new canopy bed though so I can tie you up after for a payback.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter. It’s eight in the morning,” she laughs and I snort in return.

She then pours some milk in her coffee, pulls the cup to her mouth, and blows across the steaming surface. Her eyes meet mine over the edge of the cup as she takes a tentative sip. “Are we still on for Wednesday?”

“Of course,” I say with a confident smile.

“What have you got planned?”

“Well, you’ll have to wait and see,” I tease her. “Just to warn you though, I may or may not gonna put my hands all over you.”

I don’t tell her that by putting my hands all over her, I mean on the ice to keep her from falling since I plan to take her ice-skating on the team’s practice rink. I don’t want to spoil the surprise, and besides, I’d be lying if I said I never thought of other ways too. The way she’s looking at me right now assures me that she does too, and well, that’s good.

We can compare notes on that later when we get there.

—

Blinking at me with a sleepy smile on her face, YN stands up from my couch. I walk up to her and she pushes me down into her seat, and then crawls onto my lap.

This is nice.

Our date on Wednesday was amazing, and as we walked inside, she turned to me and asked, “so this was your big plan to put your hands on me?”

I just laughed in response, and I did have to put my hands on her quite a lot in the end since she didn’t know how to ice-skate. Fuck if I’m complaining though.

Now we’re snuggled up on the couch at my house with full bellies. Last weekend she cooked me amazing food, so today, I wanted to impress her by cooking a roast dinner and introduced her to Yorkshire pudding. Sure, I was on the phone with my mum the entire time so she could give me directions, but I only almost burnt down my kitchen once so I’d call that a success.

I lean forward, which pushes her slightly to the edge of the couch, then I reach an arm over her and grab a packet of KitKat from the coffee table. I’m glad when I learnt that it is actually her favourite chocolate too, because KitKat is elite and it’s good to know we’re on the same page.

“Want another?” I ask her.

“No,” she groans. “I’m so full.”

I chuckle and awkwardly unwrap the chocolate. Awkward because I have to open it in front of her face since I have my arms around her, and once I got it opened, I hold the naked little chocolate bars in front of her mouth and tease, “want a bite?”

She shakes her head.

I wave it under her nose and I guess the smell of the chocolate changes her mind because then she says, “okay, a little bite.”

I break the bars and feed one of it to her, letting her take a bite and then chucks the rest in my mouth. We chew silently as we watch Marlin looking for Nemo, and I sigh in contentment when she tucks her face into my neck and drapes one arm across my chest.

It takes no more than ten minutes before I notice her breathing has slowed down and she’s fallen asleep. I rest my cheek on the top of her head and continue watching these fishies. I’m a little drowsy from all the food, but I resist the urge to fall under. For now, I just want to savour my existence at this moment because as Dory says to Marlin, “I look at you and I’m home”, I truly realise that’s how she makes me feel.

I’m sitting in my house, but for once, it doesn’t feel empty anymore. I just had a wonderful meal where we talked and joked and flirted, and now I have a gorgeous woman who I’m crazy about curled up on my lap.

There is absolutely no other place I’d rather be right now.

—

“Dude, you’re so fucking whipped,” Alex says as he punches me on the shoulder. I jerk slightly and reluctantly take my gaze off YN to look his way.

“What do you mean?” I ask as I take a swig of my beer and promptly look back at my girl. She’s standing just ten feet away, sipping on her own beer and talking animatedly with Sloane and Brynne. We’re at The Owner’s Box tonight having our first triple date, and I’m having a brilliant time. The only thing better would be if YN would quit chatting with the girls and get her sweet ass over here to sit next to me.

“Fucking hopeless,” Matt mutters and Alex snickers.

I blink and turn to look at them. “What? Why am I hopeless?”

“Because you can’t fucking take your eyes off of your girl for more than two seconds,” Alex jeers at me. Then he leans in towards me and murmurs with a mocking sneer, “pussy.”

“Bollocks that,” I say haughtily. “I can take my eyes off of her longer than that.”

“Good,” Matt says, handing me an empty beer bottle. “Go get us some more beer.”

“Assholes,” I say with good nature and head towards the bar. Stopping beside my girl, I kiss her on the temple. “You girls want anything else to drink?”

Sloane and Brynne shake their heads, smiling coyly at me as they watch my uncharacteristic display of affection. I’m immensely pleased when YN smiles at me and rests her hand on my chest. “I’m good, but thank you.”

“Be right back,” I tell the girls, and then I set out to prove Alex and Matt wrong.

I swivel my gaze back to Matt and Alex, and I give a sheepish grin when Matt mouths the word pussy at me. I flip him off and head towards the bar, intent on not looking back at my girl for at least the next few minutes it takes me to get the beers.

“Excuse me,” I hear and feel a tap on my shoulder. “Harry, can we get an autograph and a picture?”

As I turn around with a warm smile in my place, the word sure is out of my mouth before I even see who’s asking. I’m met by a vision of holy hotness as two women stand there with tight-as-hell t-shirts cut obscenely low and with plenty of silicone boobs pouring out.

Just a mere month ago, I would have whispered a prayer of thanks to the big man upstairs for sending these two my way, knowing well that I’d be banging the hell out of one of them before the night was finished. Instead, my stomach tightens and I glance past them to see YN still deep in conversation with Sloane and Brynne.

I bring my gaze back to the women… a brunette and a blonde, both looking at me with promise in their eyes.

“Do you mind taking your picture with us?” The blonde asks with a bat of her eyelashes.

I give her a quick smile and say, “sure, no problem.”

She steps up to me as she hands her phone to the brunette. I lift my arm to sling it companionably around her shoulders, but she uses that opportunity to press intimately into my side, bringing both arms around my waist and mashing her breasts against my ribs.

“Thanks so much,” the blonde says in a seductive voice. “Can we buy you a drink?”

“No, thanks,” I decline with a smile. “I’ve got some friends waiting for me.”

“An autograph, then?” She asks.

“Sure.”

The blonde digs in her handbag and pulls out a sharpie. She then hands it to me and says, “can you make mine out to Kourtney with a K?”

“You got it,” I say, eager to get this over with because it feels awkward to me to have this woman coming onto me with my girl standing just a few feet away.

“Just sign here,” she says and my jaw drops as she pulls the edge of her t-shirt down her chest, practically exposing her entire right breast to me.

“Uh, you got a piece of paper instead?” I ask her. “I don’t think my girlfriend would like that.”

“You bet your ass she won’t,” I hear my girl quips from behind me and I’m trying my best not to laugh. I like that she immediately snuggles into my side so those women now would have no doubt that I’m totally hers, “wanna go play some pool, baby? Loser buys the drinks.”

“You’re on,” I tell her, Kourtney with a K and her friend are long forgotten. “But just to warn you, I’m really good.”

“Honey, I was practically born on one of these tables with a beer in my hand,” she says smugly, “you’re going down.”

—

“Do you want to come in?” YN asks as she pulls out her keys from her handbag. We’ve just got back from The Owner’s Box and as usual, I walk her to the door.

My tone is low, soft, and barely audible when I say, “Doc, if I come inside tonight, I don’t think I can promise you to keep my hands to myself.”

“I don’t want you to promise me anything,” she replies firmly. “Whatever happens, happens. Now, let’s not dawdle on my porch and get inside. Want some more beers?”

“Whoa, don’t hand me ammunition,” I joke and she laughs. “I’ll take some water though.”

“There’s some water bottles in the fridge,” she says, pointing to the tiny kitchen that sits at the rear of the house, past the living room. “I’ll be right back.”

I get two bottles of water out of the fridge and head back into her living room. I take a seat on the couch and pull out my phone, scrolling mindlessly as I wait for my girl.

When she reappears, she’s wearing a pair of sleep shorts and a white t-shirt. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail and her makeup has been washed off. Her in a t-shirt and tiny shorts is a hundred times sexier than her in literally anything else—yes, including her scrubs—and there’s no stopping my downstairs head from waking up.

“Come here.”

Her eyebrows rise, but I don’t miss the clear interest in her eyes. “Come there?”

I tap my thigh, “right here.”

Her cheeks flush and a little puff of breath blows out of her. With absolutely no hesitation, she crawls onto my lap. Our gazes are locked tight and her eyes darken with intensity. When her chest comes level with mine, and her knees are pressed into the cushion just inches from my crotch, she asks me softly, “you going to finally kiss me?”

“I’m thinking about it,” I tease her as my hands come around her lower back, pressing her onto me.

Fuck, she feels good against me. Just her soft curves and warmth and I’m already starting to get hard before I even lay my mouth on hers.

She looks at me with sizzling eyes as we stare at each other, knowing that once we take this step, our relationship is going to another level.

Leaving one hand on her lower back, I slide the other up and over the shoulder, letting my palm glide up her neck so my fingers can tangle in her hair. She shivers when my thumb strokes her jaw before I cup my hand around the back of her head.

Her hands reach out and circle behind my neck. Then she whispers as she licks her lower lip, “so this is it?”

“This is it,” I tell her, and because I absolutely cannot wait one second longer, I put pressure on the back of her head to lock our mouths together. The first touch of her lips against mine causes pleasure to punch straight through my groin, and the world just absolutely melts away.

There’s nothing else but her.

Lips so fucking soft, tongue tentative and sweet. Her hair silky to the touch and her skin warm as my hand snakes up just under the edge of her t-shirt.

She tilts her head, opens her mouth more and kisses me deeper. I groan and pull her tighter to me. My hand fists tighter into her hair, hampered by the hair tie somewhat but not giving a fuck. Her hips start to rotate slightly, rubbing herself along the top of my thigh. My dick gets achingly hard as she starts to make tiny sounds of need in the back of her throat.

My other hand slips down her back and palms her backside, then I give a tentative squeeze. I think she likes that, because her hips shift forward and she starts to grind her crotch on my leg. I press against her ass, encouraging her to keep moving against me. She does it again and shudders in my arms, so I know it’s hitting her in the right spot.

Pulling on her hair, I break the kiss just enough so I can growl at her, “get yourself off, darling. Right here. On my leg.”

Her eyes fly open and they’re full of fire and sexual need as they stare back at me. Her lips curve up in a wicked smile of acquiescence and I pull her back down to my mouth for a hard kiss.

She rotates her hips in circles, then alternates flexing back and forth. I clench my thigh muscle, wanting to give her as hard a surface as possible to stimulate herself. I slip my hand down the back of her shorts, finding bare skin. I squeeze and push her down on me, helping her to move faster on my leg.

She pants and moans softly as she works herself up. I have to force myself not to push my hand down further between her legs. I’m bound and determined not to go there yet, and besides, this is hot as fuck and completely satisfying to me.

She moves faster and faster, making tiny cries of yearning into my mouth as we kiss. Then she punches her pelvis down hard onto my thigh, going still for a moment before her entire body starts quaking in silent orgasm. I hear nothing but a soft sigh of pleasure escape her lips and slither over my tongue.

Her body goes limp in my arms. She lifts her head, our lips parting, and looks down at me with glazed eyes. I press my lips to her briefly just once more, before I pull my hand out of the back of her shorts and roll her body off me. As I stand up and hover over her for a minute, I see her cheeks flushed rosy and her nipples pebbled hard, even through her t-shirt.

Placing a hand on the couch cushion, I lower myself to her and brush my lips across her forehead. “Get a good night’s sleep.”

“Wait- you’re leaving?” She asks, confusion coating her expression.

“Yes,” is all I say.

“But-”

“I’ll take a cold shower when I get home, no worries,” I assure her with a smile. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“I had a great time tonight, Harry,” she tells me, still looking like a wet noodle on the couch so I don’t think she’ll be getting up anytime soon.

“I did too,” I smile at her over my shoulder as I reach for her door.

It’s in this moment that I’m pretty sure I’m a goner for her.

—

I see the hottest, sexiest, most adorable doctor walking across the darkened parking lot towards me. Well, towards her car. Her head is tucked down and she looks tired. When she finally looks up and locks her eyes on me, the exhaustion melts away and I’m rewarded with a happy, welcoming smile from her.

“You really have to stop stalking me in parking lots,” she quips as she walks closer.

Then closer still until the tips of her shoes touch the tips of mine and she’s offering her mouth to me for a kiss. Obviously, I take it, because who wouldn’t? Her lips are perfect. She tastes like mint gum and smells faintly of antiseptic, and that right there is my favourite combo.

When she pulls back, she tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear and asks, “seriously, what are you doing here?”

“I wanna take you somewhere,” I tell her as I grab her hand and take her towards my car that’s parked the next row over.

“Where?”

“Just get in the car, Doc.”

“You’re being vague,” she says with an arched eyebrow. “Is this where you kidnap me, take my kidney and sell it on eBay?”

“This is where I’ll find a way to occupy that beautiful mouth of yours if you keep asking questions and ruin the surprise,” I tell her and she gives a tinkling laugh.

“Promises, promises,” she singsongs and I just roll my eyes.

It only takes about fifteen minutes from Cedars-Sinai Hospital where she works to the closest beach where I plan to take her for an impromptu picnic date night. We only had to stop by to get some pizza because I already have a cooler with a six-pack of beers loaded in the back of my car. It’s a little too late for sunset, but the purplish black of twilight is lush.

“The beach, huh,” she deadpans. “You brought me out here to seduce me?”

“You naughty girl,” I clutch a hand to my chest and make an exaggerated gasp of disbelief. “That’s indecent exposure that is.”

She laughs as she opens the door of the car and hops out. I do the same, then I open the back door to pull out the pizza, blanket and the cooler with beers inside before letting her help by taking the blanket.

Somehow we have the beach to ourselves tonight, and she points out a nice spot for us to sit. I agree, so I let her spread out the blanket. After both of us have our butts firmly planted, side by side, facing the ocean, I take two beers out and hand one to her.

“Ooh, we’re going fancy tonight,” she says when she sees that I brought microbrews instead of cheap beer.

I chuckle as I open the pizza box and grab a slice of the cheesy goodness that will probably clog my artery, then we talk about our day as we eat. I tell her the funny things that happened at practice today, including a joke that Marcel told us in the locker room which most would probably find insulting, but I know my girl is used to locker room talk and would find it hilarious, and she tells me what she did in the hospital. Apparently, they were so busy today that her lunch break lasted less than ten minutes.

“You never cease to amaze me, Doc,” I tell her honestly. “It’s so cool what you do for a living. Impressive as hell.”

“Thanks, Harry,” she says softly. “That means a lot.”

It’s completely dark by the time we finish our pizza, but the view is still lush since the moon is bright, causing the water to look like it’s covered in floating, crushed diamonds.

We’re silent as we sip our beers, and I love that we can sit in comfortable silence as well as talk for hours. It’s crazy to think that it’s only been a few weeks that we’ve known each other yet I just feel such a strong connection with her. I love that we’re so in tune with each other that sometimes we say the same things and steal lines from one another. We have a similar sense of humour and we can even exchange an inside joke with just a glance.

I loosen my hold of her when she pulls away from my side embrace. Her head swivels to me, and I can see the moon glittering in her eyes. “I owe you an apology.”

“What?” I look at her in confusion.

“I misjudged you, Harry,” she says with a tender smile. “When you asked me out, I outright told you that you’re a player without even giving you a chance to explain yourself. I made an assumption, and that was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”

“And your assumption was right,” I tell her honestly with a light chuckle. “There is nothing to apologise for. It was common knowledge, I was a manwhore.”

She snorts. “Shut up, I’m serious.”

“Me too,” I squeeze her hand. “You didn’t misjudge me, Doc, you knew exactly the type of guy I used to be.”

She has a dreamy smile on her face when she says, “kiss me.”

“No, you come here and kiss me,” I say, and I’m pretty sure she can see my eyes sparkling with mischief.

She rolls her eyes and mutters “fine” under her breath as she plants her knees on the sides of my legs, but I don’t miss the light in her eyes which tells me that she likes the idea.

Closing her eyes, she dips her mouth to mine and now I’m wondering if the two years of jail time and a fine for indecent exposure is worth it if I were to take her right here right now.

—

We’re in New York for two away games in a row, tonight against the Rangers which we won 3-1, and tomorrow night against the Devils. I’m chuffed not only because we won and I played great, but I also had a great day today before the game with my girl. We didn’t do much since she wanted me to save my energy for the game tonight, but we did walk around our hotel and ended up napping on the couch in the room that I share with Marcel.

We all ride on the team bus that takes us from the hotel to the arena and back to the hotel after we finish the game. I wanted her to sit next to me, but for both trips, to the arena and back, she gave me a slight shake of her head and sat with the girls along with the rest of the staff in the front.

When I hop off the bus though, I see her waiting for me with a grin on her face. I kiss the fuck out of her, not caring about my teammates who whistle and yell, “get a room.”

“Which floor are you on again?” I ask her as we enter the lift. I want to walk her to her room just to spend a few minutes more with her.

Yeah, laugh all you want. I know I’m fucking whipped.

“Tenth,” she says, pulling her room key out of her handbag and hands it to me so I can scan it then tap the button on number ten.

“Wanna catch an early breakfast with me tomorrow?” I ask her as we approach her room that she shares with the team’s orthopaedic surgeon, Callie.

“Sure. What time?”

“We’re leaving for light skate practice at 9:30, so we should have plenty of time if we meet down there at 8:30.”

“Sounds good,” she nods as we reach her door.

There’s a handwritten note stuck in between the door and the jamb. She puts her key in the card slot, opens the door slightly, and snag the piece of paper. She opens it up and I look over her shoulder at the note as we read it silently together.

YN,

Marcel and Joslynn are hooking up and they’re in his room which means Harry has been kicked out. I’m going to sleep with Macy instead, so you and Harry can have this room. Unless you want Harry to go sleep with Macy?

No? Didn’t think so.

Have fun you two.

Callie

“This is Alex, Matt and Marcel’s doing,” I tell her with absolute certainty as she twists her neck to look at me. “I’ll just get an extra room for tonight.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she chuckles. “You can sleep here. We’ve spent the night together before.”

“Yeah, but that was different. We fell asleep on the couch, it wasn’t intentional,” I point out. “I don’t trust myself sleeping in the same bed with you, Doc. I’m not going to be able to help myself.”

“Well, good,” she says, smiling mischievously. “Cause I’m done wait-”

That’s as far as she gets before I push her through the door, backing her into the room. My mouth hits her only moments before her legs hit the edge of the bed and we both go tumbling onto it.

This is when we realise there’s a huge box of condoms with 144 packs inside it in the middle of the bed. On the top, there’s another note and I recognise Matt’s handwriting on it.

You’re welcome by the way

“I freaking love your teammates,” she says with a laugh.

I guess I owe those fuckers some beers.

#hockey!harry #harry styles au #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fics #harry styles ff #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #boyfriend!harry #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurbs #harry styles drabbles

[chrisevansjellybeans]

Ransom x fem!Reader

Warnings: none (yet) some swearing

Part One

You’ve never wanted to punch somebody in the face so bad until you met Ransom Drysdale. The smug, arrogant, jerk-face had been a thorn in your side since grade school. You both grew up in the Boston area, your parents sending you to the same private schools all the way through high school. You had run in similar crowds but no matter how much your mutual friends tried to get the two of you to get along you never could. For good reason though.

Your family owned and operated Cloak and Dagger Publishing, the direct rival of Ransom’s family’s publishing house, Blood Like Wine. Unlike you and Ransom, your families liked to keep the rivalry in business and not in life. Your father, Jackson Y/L/N and Harlan Thrombey were actually great friends who just liked to rib each other when it came to business, but were proud of the other’s success regardless.

But for some reason you and Ransom could never get to that level of friendship. And you weren’t in any rush to fix that.

Especially when he was pulling shit like this.

You groaned as you opened the door to your office only to see the smirking son of a bitch sitting in your chair, feet propped up on the desk and your favorite fountain pen twirling between his fingers.

“Maria, you’re fired.” You joked to your assistant who nervously looked at you from her desk right outside your door.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N! He just-”

“It’s fine. I know.” You sighed before walking fully into your office, letting the door close behind you.

“Good morning, honey.” Ransom’s voice was sickly sweet.

“Is it?” You snapped. You walked around your desk and pushed his feet off. “Get up.”

“You’re not being very kind to your guest, Y/N. What would dear daddy say about your terrible manners?” Ransom teased but stood up nonetheless. You glared up at him as he stood to his full height.

“Guests are usually wanted and invited, Ransom. Neither of which you are.”

“Honey, you hurt me.” Ransom feigned pain as he gripped his chest. You wanted to stomp your expensive Manolo Blahniks on his toes every time he called you that. It started your junior year of high school and maybe if it was anyone else you would have thought it was a term of endearment but he said it in such a condescending tone you knew it was anything but.

“What do you want, Drysdale?” You let out an exasperated breath.

“Is it so hard to believe that I just wanted to visit an old friend?”

“Ransom, please. Unlike some people I actually have work to do.” You moved around him and sat down, pulling out your laptop. You looked up at him as he watched you with intense blue eyes that made your stomach flutter, annoyingly so.

“I’m actually here for business and not pleasure, honey.” He smirked as he sat down at the chair across from you. “I’m here to formally and personally invite you to Bleeding Hearts.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Bleeding Hearts was the Thrombey annual charity gala that they hosted at Harlan’s expansive, hidden mansion. Your parents had been going every year since Harlan first hosted it and you had started going about five years ago. You would never tell Ransom, but you loved Bleeding Hearts. It gave you an excuse to wear a beautiful ball gown-albeit rented-and to feel like a beautiful princess like the ones you had read about growing up. Harlan always hired a full orchestra to play the most beautiful classical pieces throughout the night and it was like stepping into a time machine. You didn’t understand why Ransom had to come all the way down to your office just to invite you to something that you were already going to.

“I’ve already had Maria send in my RSVP and donation, Ransom. So thank you for the courtesy, but it really wasn’t needed.” You rubbed at your temples, a tension headache now forming from all this ‘excitement’ so early in the morning. And before you’ve even had a sip of your coffee.

“I know. And you gave a nice amount this year. Did daddy finally up your monthly allowance?” He smirked.

Just one punch. Just one and then I’ll be satisfied. Technically he’s trespassing, it could be called self defense.

“Goodbye, Ransom.” You blocked him out as you opened your email and began typing away. You got about two sentences out before you felt your laptop being shut against your hands.

“I wasn’t done.” Ransom whispered, you didn’t realize how close he was until you looked up. He was now leaning over your desk, one hand on your laptop and one hand on the edge of the desk closest to you.

“Shame.”

“I’m here to ask if you wanted to come...as my date.” You snorted out a laugh and laughed even harder as a look of annoyance crossed over his face. He stood up and straightened out his shirt almost nervously.

“God, you’re funny. Now please leave. You’ve already wasted so much of my time with this little joke.” You rolled your eyes as you opened your laptop again.

“I wasn’t kidding, Y/N.” His words were sharp and his eyes blazing.

“Neither was I. Get out of my office, Ransom. Or I will call security.” You glared right back at him.

Ransom looked like he was about to say something but decided against it. He tapped his fingers against your desk and gave you a mock salute.

“See ya around, honey.”

“Close the door on your way out.” You muttered.

You clenched your fists as he left your office, leaving your door wide open. You could hear him laughing his ass all the way down the hall.

Damn you, Ransom Drysdale.

“Y/N, I am so sorry. He just kind of walked in.” Maria rushed into your office, almost tripping over her far too high heels.

“Ria, it’s fine. I know how he is.” You waved her off, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Please, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay…” she said nervously. When you gave her another reassuring smile she relaxed her shoulders. “I have to say though, he is really sexy.”

“Maria.” You sighed. “Get out.”

“Sorry.” She squeaked before exiting your office, closing the door fully.

You leaned back in your chair and let out a long breath. How had today already been the longest day and it wasn’t even nine?

“Good afternoon, sweetheart.”

“Good afternoon, dad.” You smiled as your father snuck his way into your office.

You and your dad had always been close. When you were younger he called you his “little shadow” because you loved to follow him around throughout his day. You would sit in on meetings and you loved when he would let you pretend to lead the team briefings in the morning. It was only natural that you would follow in his footsteps and work for Cloak and Dagger.

Your father always pushed you to be your best. He didn’t let you take shortcuts to get where you were today in the company. You worked your way up and proved your worth and made your father proud.

“What’s this I hear of Ransom Drysdale stopping in this morning?” He sat down across from you.

You rolled your eyes. “Because he doesn’t have anything better to do than irritate me.”

Your father laughed as he slid in his glasses up to the top of his head and then pinched the bridge of his nose. “You two have been fighting like cats and dogs since you were kids. Will this feud between the two of you ever end? And can it be soon? I made a bet with Harlan that you two would finally stop by the time you were twenty-five.”

“Glad to see that my torture has been amusement for you and your little buddy.”

“Just teasing, sugar plum.”

“Please, let’s talk about anything else besides Ransom Drysdale. I’m begging you.” You gave him a warning look over the top of your computer.

“Fine by me.” He clapped his hands together and leaned forward. “How’s it going with Brooke Archer? Has she committed to C&D yet?”

Brooke Archer was an upcoming mystery novelist. Critics called her “the Agatha Cristie of our time” and rightfully so. You had read her first two novels and finished them within a day, completely entranced by her style of writing that had you guessing till the end. She was notoriously self-publishing but now that her books were blowing up she had finally made the decision to sign with a major publishing house. And your father had tasked you with landing her.

“I have a lunch meeting with her tomorrow. I think this could be the closing meeting.” You said confidently.

“Good. I’m proud of you, sugar plum.” He tapped his fingers on your desk. “And please text your mother back. She’s freaking out over what to make for dinner tonight.”

Confused, you pulled your phone out of your bag. You sighed when you saw that you had thirteen missed texts from your lovable but definitely eccentric mother.

“You’d think she’d know what I like by now.” You joked.

“What can I say, she’s a perfectionist.” You dad laughed before saying goodbye and exiting your office.

As you were typing out a response your phone dinged with a new message.

I hope you’re thinking about my proposal from earlier. Wasn’t kidding around this time honey.

Your thumbs hovered over the screen. How the hell had Ransom even gotten your number?

And like I said earlier, neither was I. The answer is no.

He responded only seconds later:

No ugly colors, don’t want to clash with my suit.

You had to give it to him, the man had tenacity.

You’re annoying.

Ransom only responded with a winky face. You shook your head as you exited his chat and went back to responding to your mother, barely noticing the smile that was covering your face thinking of that annoyingly handsome pain in your ass.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale imagine #daddy ransom #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfic #chris evans smut #poison and wine

[yoshkeii]

"𝙵𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚜"

࿐ character(s): Daichi Sawamura, Asahi Azumane

࿐ genre: sfw, soft/fluff

࿐ type: (au) headcanons

࿐ requested by: anon

⌦ boyfriend male!reader (he/him)

⌦ genshin impact x haikyuu!!, modern settings

⌦ ‘can i request an au headcanon (basically genshin impact x haikyuu!!, modern settings, but the vision bearers are rarer than post traveler time and there's still spiral abyss where vision bearers help discovering new information and artifacts, and getting paid from their country for that) So, daichi and asahi's boyfriend(a vision bearer, which element is up to you to decide.)(also separetly) reacts that their boyfriend just give them an old flower artifact that he found that reminds male!reader of his boyfriend‘

A/N: an interesting concept !! thank you for requesting, im not good with reactions but- ihopethisisokay,, i dont think i did well on this,, khai writes hcs weirdly pt. who fucking knows.

asahi azumane’s give flower: wanderer’s troupe or viridescent venerer

𝙳𝚊𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚒:

》 staring at the rosy-red petaled flower that was supposedly made into a brooch, a piece missing that would make the item stay on the wearer. your eyes glossed over the item, identifying cracks and scratches on the metallic bronze pieces that accompanied the ordinary looking flower, that somehow was in one piece. just... slightly off-colored. before jumping as your name was called by another vision-bearer with two others by the way towards the exit of the Abyss floor, you began to hurry over to them as you gently slid the “Gladiator’s Nostalgia” into your pouch. the name you had read before within a dusty journal, remembering it so clearly with a much vibrant image than the real one you had now. but it oh, so reminded you of your beloved boyfriend, the one waiting for you at your shared home. 《

→ Daichi didn’t know he would be dating a vision-bearer, no one would’ve thought of a thing really. they were such a rare sight to see out in public- especially in the modern days. but that only just added to the many surprises you came home with after your days of working in the “Spiral Abyss” is what they call it.

→ giving him the faded-out red flower as soon as you walked through the front door, a bright smile across your face, was a sight he would never get tired of. except the slight worriedness would built up seeing scratches n bruises along your skin the more he stared...

→ eventually leading him to treating your injuries properly, maybe a slight scold or lecture here and there-

→ “Love, you know you have to be careful. Especially with fire! I know you have a Pyro vision, but that doesn’t mean mess around- and play with fire itself- You aren’t immune to it.” “..even worse that you tried using your abilities to cook..”

→ “He-hey it was a one time thing-!! and I was really curious ‘Muraaa..” you whined, wincing and pulling your face away with a pout as Daichi pressed a cotton swab onto the cut along your cheek.

→ “Yeah yeah, lil’ember.” He muttered the nickname, swiping a thumb over the bandaid to cover the cut. “..there you are done, now go get a change of clothes dirty boy- I have to put the first aid stuff away.”

→ seeing you disappear pass the door frame of your shared room, he went back to pack and close the first aid kit. before his eyes wandered towards the flower you had given him earlier, which was just idly sitting there on the counter. Daichi picked up the flower holding it gently in his palms, feeling the petals with his free hand.

→ he stared at the flower for a long moment, observing the petals before noticing the scratches on the metal pieces attached to the brooch. he smile gently, beginning to realize this was a gift to him, a gift that you gave and probably risked your life to nag. 

→ sighing deeply at the thought of you getting hurt, knowing how clumsy you can be, he went off to the shared room where you would be. just to make sure you dont... do something stupid.

→ “Y/N?” Daichi had softly called out, seeing your head peek out from the closet as you slid a shirt on. he motioned his hands upwards a little, still holding the faded-brooch in his palms. 

→ “Oh! The Gladiator’s Nostalgia? The flower, do you like it??” the way you had ecstatically replied, he could imagine a puppy’s tail wagging so fast. your eyes shimmering as you awaited his answer.

→ “I love it, ember, it was really nice of you to give it to me.” “..although I hope you didn’t get hurt too much... to achieve it. I bet this was hard to get-” He spoke softly, genuine about the words slipping through his lips.

→ “Well actually... not really-” seeing Daichi look at you in confusion, “..I’ve seen that artifact set a lot on my runs with my team, but are often- broken’n’damaged. So I- I could never give you one-” “There’s also different ones apart of the same set for yours!! I might try to collect the others for you... or more.. flowers..”

→ “Wa-wait-,, there’s more-?” he longed on his question, before he could let out another word he noticed how you started to ramble. talking about interesting details of the items you could get him on your adventures and battles, and all he did was listen. settling down on the edge of the bed while you went on.

→ you were so passionate with your job, what you were doing as a vision-bearer. it’s what he liked about you, or well... loved about you. although he wonder if every Vision-bearer were the same, he’d still take you, . date you, just as who you are. with, or without a vision. and ofc he will keep an eye on what gifts you decide to give him in the mere future.

𝙰𝚜𝚊𝚑𝚒:

》 being an Anemo Vision bearer, your able to adapt and flow with whatever could come your way. making elements spread across the battlefield with one set of moves or to crowd-control them into one spot for the others to strike the unfortunate foes. time to time you would stumble upon the “Viridescent Venerer” set in the fallen loot of opponents or the scuffed chests that were stashed at the end of battles. they looked so different than most artifacts, especially the flowers. common artifacts were genuine real flowers, making them have the same aspect as any other flower, withering and fading into nothing but dull-bland colors. but the Viridescent Venerer’s flower did not, it was just a white wild flower that used to cover the earth. and it has not withered one bit, and still gives off an exquisite fragrance you noticed as the times you ran by it... and well of course noticed it as the scent was what you usually smelled since you had one as part of your outfit. 《

→ Asahi had always pointed out the flower on your outfit, the “In Remembrance of Viridescent Fields“ is what the books would title it, but in short you just called it the Viridescent Venerer flower or just... Viridescent for Asahi’s sake.

→ he had always complimented on how it looked beautiful and pretty, especially when his beloved boyfriend is wearing it. 

→ as days of works and floors of the Spiral Abyss, you managed to find a new piece of the Viridescent to use. unlike discarding the one you currently you had, you had an idea that came into mind, finding you sliding the newer artifact into your bag before leaving off to home. a smile brought onto your face.

→ now cuddling in each others presence, you both chatted about your days. already cleaned yourself up from your days works. hand in hand with soft laughter erupting from both of you, before it died off into comfortable silence.

→ “Azumane, love?” you simply called out, knowing you caught his attention instantly as you felt movement from him. “You certainly like the flower on my fit.”

→ “Well it really is- pretty. Like knowing how regular and most flowers wilt and wither- That one hasn’t! An-And I believe its the same one you wore the day we met too-” he noted.

→ to only be surprised at his memory of these types of things, you laughed- making him startled and a bit embarrassed.

→ “You sure have quite the memory, to even remember that image? I’m impressed, so I assume... it has caught your eye since the start? Just like I was to your own vision~” you cooed, getting up from his grasps before disappearing pass a corner of a wall.

→ confusion expressed on Asahi’s face, sitting up from his position on the couch before his eyes caught the glimpse of the Viridescent in your hand.

→ sitting on the edge of the couch, you motioned the flower towards him, a gentle smile across your face.

→ “I would simply like you to have mine then, it is quite old- and worn from the times I’ve had it through my lifetime. But I think it’ll be a nice gift from me to you.”

→ hearing the words being slipped passed your mouth, he felt tears daring to fall from his eyes- Asahi did not know why. but imagining keeping the Viridescent you had for who knew how long-

→ it would be something he would cherish, something he wouldnt let go.

→ exchanging gentle kisses across your face in exchange, trying his best not to cry the joy. because it was so touching- so simple yet so poetic to give. he didn’t think he deserved one.

→ and from that afternoon, Asahi had kept it. he had kept it safe and sound, bringing it with him whenever you were never there. so he had something to calm him down in anxious moments. he had a memory of you in a flower that would never wither.

#at-dusk;- 🌆 #folder 📁;- 𝙷𝚊𝚒𝚔𝚢𝚞𝚞 #daichi x male reader #asahi x male reader #daichi sawamura x male reader #asahi azumane x male reader #haikyuu x male reader #hq x male reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #x male reader #x reader

[weasleydream]

unfairness

here it is, my participation to @omgrachwrites​ writing challenge! once again, congrats for 1k love, so happy for you!!

the prompts were “I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home.” ; “I really want to kiss you right now.” “Do it then.” and “This is all in my head. It’s all happening in my head.”

As usual, feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

TW: the end can be a bit violent

masterlist 

We had realized our relationship wasn’t as bright as we had thought when an umpteenth rumor about us had spread between Hogwarts’ walls, at some point during our sixth year of school. It wasn’t the first, far from that, but it was definitely the worst because it also involved this Ravenclaw guy whose name was still unknown to me at the time. As far as I could tell, there had always been jealous girls that had tried to get Fred to dump me, and plenty of boys that wanted to convince me that they had more to offer than the Weasley boy. The only difference with this rumor was that Fred kinda despised said Ravenclaw boy because of a Quidditch match the year before, and he had turned his nervousness into a burst of anger I hadn’t anticipated. Problem is that, at the same time, I had heard Angelina telling Katie that Lee had told her that George had implied that Fred was seeing someone else, and just everything that had happened that year had gotten the best of me. 

Our first break up had occurred a week after we had heard about these rumours, and during the rest of our sixth year and most of our seventh until now, we had ended our relationship twice more. 

The worst in all of this was that I loved Fred. So fucking much. I loved him and I was ready to do anything for him, and I knew it was the same for him, but it was just not possible to keep a relationship as ours was. We didn’t have the same interests at all, Fred was obsessed with his shop project and me with the learning of defense against the dark arts (through Dumbledore’s army, of course). He was nonchalant and sometimes forgetful, I was fussy and very sensitive. When one of us was too busy, a date planned was quickly forgotten and the fight very likely to happen. 

That’s why, as I was in my dorm trying to choose what to wear, the main question in my mind was to know if it was worth it. A few clothes were scattered on my bed, and two pairs of boots were thrown on the floor. It had been almost half an hour and I only had twenty minutes left before having to join Fred who would probably be waiting for me in the common room. I had hoped this little preparation session would help me ease my terrible mood but it seemed that it was a fail. Finally opting for comfortable jeans and one of Fred’s sweaters - even though we were almost in June, the week had been a bit cold - I spent the rest of my time reading again some transfiguration notes. I headed downstairs exactly twenty minutes later only to find the common room completely empty. 

“Of course…” I muttered. 

As soon as the portrait opened, the noise in the corridors broke the silence I had been plunged in for an hour. Some people were talking about the coming exams, others about the next class they would have. Not once did I hear my name in a conversation, which had become quite rare with the time. I had learned the hard way that people always had something to say about my relationship with Fred, and if there wasn’t any tasty gossip, then inventing one wasn’t a problem.

I found Fred in the great hall, sitting with George, Ron and Harry. They were all talking about something that had to be classified as a defence secret considering how they suddenly became interested in everything that wasn’t me. Ron and Harry turned to Hermione, who was sitting at the table behind them, and George patted Fred’s shoulder before nodding at me and leaving without a word. It was usual, this taciturn behaviour George had when I was here; we had never gotten along that well, and if I was being honest, it was probably another problem between Fred and I. 

We headed outside and took the road to Hogsmeade. We were walking next to each other, our hands brushing every now and then without ever really touching. The distance had become natural, touches were rare now and it was in moments like these that I hated it the most. Hating on the happy couples we saw on our way was easier than trying to find something nice to talk about, so that’s what I did. Fred looked like he was lost in his world and he only gave me some attention when he pushed the Three Broomsticks’ door for me. We found a table against a window, which provided a nice warmth, and Fred put his jacket on the chair. 

“Butterbeer or hot chocolate?”

“You know the answer.” I said, playing with my sleeve.

“So it’ll be hot chocolate with chamallows for the damsel.”

He left with a smile to order our drinks, leaving me alone for a good five minutes. When he came back, a pint of butterbeer in one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other, I had had plenty of time to ruminate over everything I had decided to talk about with him during the past two days. However, the chuckle that shook his shoulders when he told me about the guy who had just tripped with three bottles of butterbeer in his hands stopped me. It could be a good afternoon, and these were too rare for my liking. It happened of course, our relationship wasn’t absolute hell, but it had definitely worsened with the time. 

“Y/N, you okay? You look quite pale.” Fred was looking at me with concern in the eyes. “No, don’t tell me: I bet a galleon you’ve been working on your potion essay until very very late at night. How right am I?”

“Very right,” I muttered before passing a hand on my face. “I don’t get it. How can you spend so little time on your work without being at least a little bit nervous?”

“You know I don’t really care about all of this. I’ve got other priorities and bigger ambitions.”

“I know, but you’ll need this knowledge, won’t you?”

Fred was keen to avoid another argument, and he sighed loudly. 

“We’ve already talked about this Y/N, George and I can do without all this scolar stuff. Plenty of people have done that already.”

“I know, I know.”

“I’m sorry we’ve spent all that time arguing.” added Fred after a pause. “It’s not time we can gain back.”

“Maybe we can’t,” I began cautiously, “but we can try to do better. Try not to lose more time.”

“It’s not like we have more time to lose anyway.” Another pause. “Do you want to take a walk? Looks like it’s getting warmer outside.”

We got up and exited the pub. Indeed, the sun was higher in the sky and its rays weren’t hidden by clouds. The warmth on my face was more than welcome, and the pleasant sensation made me forget Fred’s last sentence. 

This time, he grabbed my hand and we exchanged jokes on the way back to the castle. We bumped into a few friends and even one or two professors, but most of the time it was just Fred and I. Until the moment we arrived near the castle entrance, that is. 

“Hey Y/L/N, how are you?”

A Slytherin guy stepped in front of me, obliging me to stop and pull on Fred’s hand. The least I could say was that he didn’t look pleased at all with the interruption. The Slytherin didn’t look like he gave a care and kept smiling at me. 

“I was thinking, we could go to Hogsmeade together one of these days. I mean, I guess you want to cover your back, so I’m here if-”

I wanted this pretentious git to shut up, and it looked like Fred had read in my mind because his fist collided with the nose of the guy with a disgusting noise of cracked bone. 

“That’s what you get for trying to ask my girlfriend out.” he muttered before grabbing my hand. 

I should have said something, whether thank you or are you crazy? but in all honesty I was trying to calm my heart, which was beating like crazy. It was rare to hear such words from Fred’s mouth or so it had become, but hearing him calling me his girlfriend, punching a guy that was hitting on me, that gave me hope for our couple. 

And it made it even more painful when, a few weeks later, Fred left Hogwarts with George on his broom without a word to me. Without something as simple as a glance behind. All I could do was watch helplessly as he saluted Peeves and flew away and try to process the fact that he was giving up on me. Did that mean that we weren’t together anymore? That he had decided on his own he had enough of me, that I wasn’t worth the effort? It’s right here, alone in this crowded corridor after the most crazy departure from the castle we had witnessed, that I understood the meaning of what Fred had told me back at the Three Broomsticks, during our last date. It’s not like we have more time to lose anyway. What an idiot I had been! Here I was, thinking he was talking about the war, persuaded that he was just being extremely pessimistic, when he was in fact confessing that he was going to leave the castle and basically dump me without having the decency to assume it in front of me! I got back to my dorm, trying my best to keep a neutral face as I knew most of the students I would bump into were going to search for the slightest ounce of pain on my face. I only let my walls crumble when I got to the common room, and the first sobs left my mouth when the door of the dorm was closed. 

I threw myself on my bed and grabbed the pillow that I wedged underneath my chest. The anger would come later; for now, I needed to cry as many tears as I had in stock. I stayed in my bed the rest of the day, did surprisingly well in faking sleep when the dorm filled, and spent an agitated night. When I got up the next morning, my first thought was to wonder why my head was so heavy and painful, and when I remembered, my second thought was that it was time for anger. I grabbed my prettiest shirt, slipped in a particularly fitting pair of jeans, and watched myself in the mirror, hoping to fool people enough to avoid questions. At the sight of my dull skin, my eye bags and my glossy eyes, I realized the most beautiful clothes in the world wouldn’t make me feel better, so I sighed, grabbed my bag, sighed again and left the dorm with one goal: forgetting Fred Weasley, my love for him and the pain he had caused me. 

_ _ _ 

A few months later, it had become very obvious that I had failed that goal. I was still full of resentment toward Fred and what he had done, and I was able to get really irritated when someone reminded me of him in any way. The fact that I had gotten involved completely in the Order and that most of his family was in it too didn’t help at all and it had led to a few encounters I would have given anything to avoid. Fortunately, he was busy with his joke shop and we never saw each other long enough to say more than hello. Well, that was before Mrs Weasley organized a diner at the Burrow with a few members of the Order, me included. 

She had been particularly pleased to see me, and Ginny had confessed it was because her mother was persuaded I would run away. 

“You know, because of the git I have to call my brother.” she had added with a disapproving pout. 

Ginny had been very disappointed in Fred when he had left, not because of school because she would have done the same if she could but because he had left me on the sidelines. She was a good friend and confident, and even though family was everything to her, she had assured me she would never forgive Fred for what she used to call “a very stupid mistake”. However, as I was squeezed on the couch between her and Tonks, all the support she could provide me wasn’t enough considering the fact that Fred was only a meter or two away and his eyes were fixed on me. I was repeating myself that it didn’t matter, I didn’t care, it didn’t matter, but his gaze seemed to be getting heavier as the minutes passed by. It took me a good quarter of an hour to gather enough courage to look directly at him with the idea of making him understand he was annoying me, but the strange sparkle in his eyes intrigued me more than it should and I found myself looking away faster than what my ego could accept. A few seconds later, his hand was on my shoulder. 

“Do you mind if we talk?”

Ginny’s elbow hit my ribs repetitively until I sighed. I got up without a word and lifted an eyebrow, which Fred interpreted as a positive answer and apparently as an authorization to grab my hand. 

“Don’t go too far.” I warned before removing my hand and walking toward the stairs. 

I didn’t know how this would turn out as we hadn’t had any proper conversation since he had left months ago. All this rancour I had built up was ready to resurface at any moment, and I wanted to do my best to avoid the disaster. That’s why I decided it would be better if this conversation happened on a ground as neutral as possible, which would be complicated considering the fact that I was in his childhood home, but not impossible. I settled for a room I was sure wasn’t the twins’, maybe Bill’s, and if he wondered why this choice, Fred never questioned it out loud. The door closed behind his back, and I was surprised to notice that it didn’t cause me any anxiety. 

“You look tired.” he finally said with a certain hesitation when he understood I wouldn’t speak first. 

Quite honestly, I had imagined a lot of things, but certainly not this. 

“I’m- what? What does that mean?” I added with a grunt. 

“It means I think you look tired. Is it that surprising?”

“That you’re concerned for my well-being? Since you left school without telling me and didn’t give me any news I have to admit that yes, it’s surprising!”

It was too late to contain my anger as it seemed, and I decided the best I could do was leave the room before exploding. It was without counting on Fred though, who visibly didn’t want me to leave. 

“Get out of the way Fred, there’s nothing left to say.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, there’s everything to say.”

We looked each other in the eyes for quite a long time, and I eventually sighed before looking away, too afraid of the heartbeat my heart missed. 

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m sorry for what I did.”

“You’re right, I don’t want to hear it.”

“I wanted to tell you, really, I did, but things weren’t great between us and… I don’t know, I didn’t think that much.” I scoffed and took a step backward. Fred’s eyes were filled with what I had a hard time admitting was sadness - or regret, maybe? - and they followed every movement I made to sit on the bed. “Listen Y/N, back then I really loved you and I still love you now. But this thing between us… It turned out not good at all, it wasn’t healthy for us to keep it the way it was.”

“So you think you only had two options? You decided by yourself you had to choose between staying with me and keep suffering or leaving without a word?” My voice was maybe a bit louder than intended, but it was too late to keep my heart closed. He wanted a discussion, he would have it. “You never for a second imagined we could make it work again? Fred, what you did was breaking my heart, nothing else!”

“And I broke mine in the process.” 

“I- I don’t believe you. You’re the one who made the decision, you are the responsible. You are responsible!”

Fred looked away, and I could have sworn he was tearing up. All the words he could have come up with wouldn’t have changed my mind, but the tears that were now threatening to run down his face made my anger falter. It wasn’t pity but comprehension; these tears, they had covered my face so many times these last months and even before that I could recognize them undoubtedly. I was blaming Fred for leaving me, and even if I wouldn’t forgive him for the way he did it, blaming him for wanting a true breakup would be hypocritical. After all, hadn’t I thought about it myself? The only difference was that Fred had been brave enough to end it, not me. But that didn’t make the abandon any less painful, or these last months any less hard to think about. 

“Why now? It’s been months, why do you apologize now?”

Fred sniffed quietly and passed his hand on his face, wiping away a few tears in the process.

“Would you have let me apologize before?” Of course not, I would have punched him and left. “We were both hating me for what I did Y/N, and… I know I’m not pardonable, I just want you to understand that I regret and that no matter what happened, I’ll always be there if you need me.”

“I’ll be too Fred, trust me. But you’re right, you’re not pardonable.”

And I left without saying anything else, closed quietly the door between Fred and I, and it felt like it was the definitive end for us. 

_ _ _ 

Something like three weeks later, the situation of the wizarding world had worsened exponentially. Attacks from death eaters were getting more and more common, and this toward muggles, blood traitors and members of the Order. Two weeks ago, I had participated in my first real monitoring mission with Tonks, and that had made me a veritable member of the Order with all the dangers that it implied. My relationship with Fred had become a bit better after our conversation at the Burrow and he had been the first to show worry about me. An hour or so before my departure for the mission with Tonks, he had left the shop to find me and tell me to keep the Dumbledore’s Army galleon so that he could know if I was in trouble. I had accepted because I wanted him to leave but with time, I had concluded that having it with me was reassuring. I would have never admitted it in front of him though. 

A few days ago, Fred had invited me for a special evening at the shop that was organized for the presentation of a new product. He had refused to tell me anything about it and had assured me I would find it hilarious. I wanted to go but the thought of spending an evening with him still made me uncomfortable. Finally, I had accepted on the condition that Ginny was coming with me. 

The first thought that crossed my head when I apparated in Diagon Alley is that never in my life would I have thought it possible to see it so empty, so lifeless. Almost all the boutiques I had visited so many times were closed, some because the owner had stopped their activity for a question of security and others because of much darker reasons. My eyes found the only bright light of the alley and I picked up the pace to reach the twins’ shop quicker. All the customers were hurrying inside, they probably felt as oppressed as I did. 

“Here you are!” exclaimed Ginny when I reached the door. “I was beginning to think you had changed your mind. Glad you didn’t though, George told me what the new product is and it really seems fun.”

I hummed absent-mindedly as my eyes left the floor to wander around me. Trying to convince myself I wasn’t looking for Fred would have been stupid and a loss of time, so I just grumbled once more at my weakness and asked Ginny where her brother was. 

“Probably in the back shop preparing his grand entrance. Come on, let’s get closer to the stage.”

If she didn’t make any comment, I didn’t miss her smirk as she grabbed my hand to drag me through the crowd of customers. We finally reached the stage that was occupying all the space in this part of the shop, and I found an empty spot somewhere on the left. On the stage was a huge white cover that was hiding what looked like a board and a table one behind the other, and I barely had the time to think that it was a very simple installation before the twins made their appearance. Everyone cheered and especially the younger ones and Ginny. For my part, I adopted a small smile that widened when Fred winked at me - against my will, I promise. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” began Fred. 

“Dear customers,” continued George. 

“Let us present to you our latest product.”

“It is the result of a long work of research and development-”

“And your future darling, it’s a promise.”

George waved his wand and the cover disappeared. 

At first, the silence seemed very heavy, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell had happened in their heads to create such a thing in times like these. Then, a kid in the audience giggled, and it seemed to relax everyone; laughter burst and some were already shaking their wallet. Ginny was applauding and shaking her head. The twins’ smiles widened and they got off of the platform to reach out to their customers. 

It was fun indeed, but I couldn’t help but wonder if they truly measured the impact of what they had just done. 

_ _ _ 

“U-no-poo Fred? Really?”

Fred giggled as if I had just told him a very good joke he had never heard before. 

“You have to admit that’s pretty clever!”

“That’s not clever, that’s stupid and not fun at all and- and that’s dangerous Fred!”

His gaze softened, but he didn’t let go of that cocky smirk. 

“Y/N, would you happen to be worried?”

“No, I was just thinking your instinct for survival was better than that.” My averted eyes didn’t mislead anyone though. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for this Fred, that’s all.”

“I won’t, don’t worry.” He hesitated for a second, and our eyes fell on the hand he had lifted and stopped above my shoulder. I didn’t say anything and he squeezed it gently. “These laughter earlier, that’s why we’re taking the risk. You have your way to fight the darkness, I have mine, that’s all.” I didn’t find anything to reply to that. “You know, I didn’t think you would come tonight, even Ginny was doubtful. And given the look on your face when I told you about it I thought you would refuse, really.” Fred paused and his fingers clenched lightly against my shoulder once more. “Why did you decide otherwise?”

That was a good question. Why? I had spent the last few days trying to figure out why the first answer in my head had been immediate and positive, why my heart had first beaten like crazy at the thought of seeing Fred again instead of aching as it used to, why I couldn’t hate him as much as I thought I did, as much as I thought I had to. Suddenly, some customer’s shoulder collided with my back with enough strength to make me lose my balance. The position we ended up in felt natural, as if Fred’s torso had always been there for me to rest my head on it and his hands were meant to be on my back. 

“I had missed this.” I murmured, and I felt his agreement through the vibrating of his body. 

I timidly encircled him with my own arms, and the feeling was so unhoped for, I had craved it for so long, that I found myself unable to move away from him. The more time passed by and the tighter our embrace was until it became almost difficult to breathe. 

“Maybe I should…” muttered Fred before loosening his hold, but without letting go of me. “Never again,” he added with a smile, and it didn’t take long for me to realize what it meant. “I’m not leaving you again.”

And as cliché as it could sound, I read the truth in his eyes. The pain, the regrets, the way he had been hating himself everyday for what he had done, but also comprehension because he knew I had been feeling the same. The Weasley sparkle was here too, bright and vivid and loving, and his smile was wider than every smile I had ever seen. I was probably looking the same, and if I wasn’t, I was definitely experiencing this euphoria that was shaking every cell of my body and making my heart beat so fast. 

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Fred’s voice was low, but it was the only thing I heard.

“Do it then.”

“Let me finish darling. I want to kiss you so bad, but I don’t deserve it, not after what I did to you. Give me some time to earn it, okay? We’ll make it work again, I’ll make it work again.”

I nodded, torn by two completely opposite emotions. I was grateful because Fred wanted us to become a loving couple again, and disappointed because I needed him, so much that it hurt. But after all this time, it wouldn’t have felt right, and after all maybe it was for the best. Suddenly, I became aware again of the noise in the shop: dozens of customers were still talking happily about their purchase and congratulating George.

“I should go back home. It’s… It’s a lot to take in.”

“I know, don’t worry.” Fred smiled and kissed my hair. I gave him my back and took barely two steps toward the door before he grabbed my hand. “Wait Y/N, I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home. It’s dangerous outside and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“You shouldn’t leave your little party, Freddie. Don’t worry for me, I’ll apparate as soon as I can, okay?”

“You have the galleon, right?”

“Yes Fred, I have it, and yes I’ll warn you when I’m home.” 

He nodded and let go of my hand. I sneaked through the crowd of customers and reached the door. I was on the verge of opening it when Fred’s voice echoed. 

“Are you going to leave without a U-no-poo Y/N?”

“Who told you I needed one?”

Fred chuckled, and I only looked away when the door closed. The alley was still somber, and the same dying feeling was floating in the air, but my heart was lighter than it had been in months. I was so happy that nothing could have tarnished my joy, or so I thought. 

It’s my training as a new Order member that kicked in and made me dodge the first curse. As the only remaining window of Ollivander’s shop exploded, two dark silhouettes made their appearance between the twins’ shop and I, making it impossible for me to reach any safe place on this side of the alley. What I feared was confirmed when at least two other death eaters’ feet hit the paving stones. 

All of this had happened in a second, and I reached for the magical galleon in my pocket before anything else. An instant later, I was forced to dive to the ground with my hand still stuck in my jeans. I got up quickly and drew my wand. It was too late. Something burnt my back with such intensity that the heat spread to the core of my body. Through the excruciating pain, my dizzy brain noticed that there wasn’t a sound that left my mouth, and soon my knees hit the ground. My arms refused to obey and I found myself falling forward without anything to shield my head. The shock was brutal as the rest of the scene. The death eaters left without anything else, word or curse, and soon the noise made by their footsteps disappeared. It felt like an eternity before someone else arrived whereas it had probably been less than two minutes. Time definitely seemed to stop when I realized it was Fred. 

“Y/N, what’s- oh god, Y/N, can you hear me? Please tell me you’re still with me… Y/N!”

His arms slipped underneath my limp body. Even the heat he gave me as he was hugging me against his torso wasn’t enough to dissipate the icy cold in my bones. He was calling for help, desperate to be heard as it seemed like we were both glued to the paving stones. 

“Please Y/N, tell me- tell me I’m dreaming. This- This is all in my head, it’s all happening in my head...  Right? Y/N, say something, please!” I wished I could have reassured him, but my strength was leaving me. “I still have to gain back your love, Y/N you can’t leave me… You can’t…” 

Fred was almost sobbing now, shouting to whatever cruel god was watching him that he couldn’t live without me, screaming pleas and crying at this unfairness. His arms were still holding me, and even this feeling was slowly vanishing; soon, I wondered if I had ever felt it and the only answer I could get was the aching in my body that had nothing to do with the curse. 

Death wasn’t that bad, after all, less painful than life, and I wished Fred could read it in my mind.

#rach's1kcelebration #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #tw death

[dinosaurtsukki]

[ it takes two to tango ]

pairing: chuuya nakahara x f!reader

word count: 2.4k words

contains: enemies but they flirt a lot basically, so much sexual tension and teasing, flirty!y/n, fight scenes and dance scenes basically carry the same amount of sexual tension and i will die on this hill

summary: chuuya runs into you, his arch-nemesis, again at a masquerade ball on a mission and reluctantly allies himself with you to fulfill the same goal

a/n: okay here’s ANOTHER chuuya fic from your resident chuuya fangirl. this is my first time writing an enemies to lovers-ish fic and i had so much fun with the setting and sexual tension here so i hope you guys like it 

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chuuya was being watched, he could feel it ever since he walked into the large mansion on undercover mission that mori sent him out to do. at first, he didn’t think much of it since he was going to a masquerade ball, after all. of course there would be a few girls or two who’s eyes he managed to catch. 

except, when he went off on his own inside the mansion to search for info on the enemy faction’s leader, who also happened to be hosting the party, he could tell he was now being followed.  chuuya wasn’t particularly alarmed, he could handle anyone by himself. but he was pretty pissed off when he realized who those familiar footsteps, that grew nearer than ever, belonged to.

without hesitation, chuuya pulled out his knife and whirled around to face a pistol directed at his face. even with the black, feathered mask covering half your face, chuuya would recognize his arch-nemesis anywhere. 

he watched your red lips curl up in a smirk. “fancy seeing you here, nakahara,” you purred.

“fuck, you again?” chuuya growled, not lowering his knife. 

“try as you might, i’m afraid you just can’t avoid me,”  you said, lowering your gun. “so, you’re looking into boss tanaka too, huh? i’m afraid i already searched his office before you came in.” 

“that so?” chuuya snorted, mentally cursing himself for not coming earlier. but then, you were always just one step ahead of him.

you and chuuya had been arch-nemeses ever since you crossed paths at a mission a few years ago. he had never heard of you at all and knew very well that you weren’t part of any organization. rather, you worked alone as a paid criminal: assassinating anyone or stealing information all depending on who your boss was. if you were from an enemy organization, chuuya would have thought better of you. 

“unfortunately not,” you sighed, raising the skirt of your scarlet dress and tucking your gun away in the holster strapped to your thigh. chuuya tried not to let his eyes linger too long on this show off skin and realized, with a lot of discomfort, that you looked really good tonight. the dress you wore complimented the color of your lipstick and fit you like a glove, hugging your curves in all the perfect places. your hair was even done up too.

“like what you see?” you smirked at him, causing chuuya to blush and dart his eyes away, only for you to chuckle at his response. “don’t worry, you’re not the only one enjoying the view tonight,” you winked. unlike chuuya, you were a tad bit more, upfront, about your attraction to him. after all, he was an amazing fighter and ability user, a port mafia executive, and very good-looking to top it all off. and tonight, he was especially stunning in his dark gray suit and the white mask that covered his eyes and part of his left cheek.

oh, if only you two weren’t enemies. but then again, sometimes working together had its benefits.

“boss tanaka’s downstairs mingling with the guests. i recognized a few of his co-executives there with him,” chuuya said, walking ahead down the hallway and back to the dance floor.

“oho? are you suggesting we team up for a bit?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“only until we get what we need, l/n,” chuuya flashed you a look. “after that, it’s free for all, like always.”

“you got it,” you mused as the two of you entered the ballroom of the masquerade ball. you were thankful for the theme giving you an opportunity to look less inconspicuous after you snuck in uninvited. the two of you scanned the sea of masked guests before spotting the unmistakable large figure and bald head of your target in the middle of the dance floor, chatting with a few of his associates.

“alright, follow my lead,” you said, holding your hand out to chuuya. 

“your lead?” he said, looking at your hand with more than a hint of suspicion. you rolled your eyes at him.

“how do you expect us to get close and listen on him without drawing attention?”

chuuya looked from you to the dance floor and understood what you were talking about. still, “no way am i dancing with you.”

“how come? don’t know how?” you mocked, grinning at the infuriated look on chuuya’s face as he grabbed your hand and pulled you with him to the dance floor. 

“you’re following my lead,” he said lowly, placing a hand behind your back and pulling you close. you two were inches apart and up close, you could smell chuuya’s usual cologne and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke. then slowly, the two of you began to move with the music. 

chuuya had only happened to learn dancing, from koyou-san of course, when he realized it was useful for certain missions and mingling with a crowd. he was confident with his skill and maneuvered the two of you effortlessly through the dance floor and getting within earshot of boss tanaka. the whole point of dancing with you was to get in close and overhear his plans. 

except, chuuya was unbelievably distracted by how close you were to him. everything from your the intensity of your gaze as you listened into your target’s conversation, to the warmth of your bare arm against his, to the scent of your perfume, was enough to make him feel more than a little warm. damn it, was he attracted to you now?

“one a.m., tonight,” you suddenly leaned in to whisper in his ear. with a start, chuuya realized you were relaying the info you just heard. “they’ll leave for yokohama tower and conduct the trade there. they’ve got a buyer for the information we’re after. about no less than a billion yen, would you believe?” you chuckled.

“good,” chuuya nodded, leading you away to the middle of the dance floor when he felt your grip tighten.

“you’re not thinking of leaving me here, are you?” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“why? so that you can screw me over sooner?” 

“there’s still a few hours until one a.m, it would be strange for us to leave, don’t you think?” you said innocently, smiling when the live orchestra began to play a livelier music piece. “we’ve got time to kill.”

talking to you constantly felt like making deals with a devil. previous experience told chuuya to drop you here right here and now. but the need to be kept on his toes around you was terribly exciting. it was a different kind of rush that chuuya couldn’t get from fighting even the strongest of opponents.

and you were the only one who could give it to him.

chuuya noticed the shift in the music at the same time you did and without warning, moved his hand down to your lower back and dipped you close to the floor. reading his movements, you smirked and wrapped your leg around his as chuuya lowered you.

“good choice, nakahara,” you said, drawing out the syllables of his name and leaning in to whisper in his ear. “it takes two to tango, after all.”

...

years of running into each other in missions and having to fight only made you and chuuya familiar with each other’s movements. when you danced, you were in complete coordination that you didn’t even have to think about where to move your feet. the fact that your faces were partially hidden by masks did nothing to remove the intensity behind your gazes and by the end of the dance, both of you were breathless.

dancing was almost no different from fighting. of course there was movement involved, a whirlwind of limbs but this time with weapons in hand. and then, there was trust involved. but the trust you placed in your dance partner to lead was very different in the trust you placed with a rival who happened to be fighting for your side momentarily.

“well, well, guess we have no choice but to beat all these guys up,” chuuya smirked, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it carefully against the fire exit ladder. he wasn’t sure if he was going to get a chance to fight some people tonight but the chance presented itself when you two barged into the trade-off on top of yokohama tower. 

“i’m sure you enjoy that immensely,” you sighed, eyeing all the mafioso members surrounding boss tanaka that now had you and chuuya surrounded on all sides.

“why, tired?” he taunted you.

“no,” you snorted, taking out your pistol and loading a new magazine. “i just bought this fucking dress.” 

“do you two really think you could get out of this situation?” boss tanaka sneered. you and chuuya broke in right before the trade-off actually happened and he tucked the USB containing the information you two were after into his pocket. maybe he was right to think that, after all he had one of the largest organizations in yokohama second only to the port mafia itself. he dealt in the illegal weapons trade in the city and you could bet that your new client and the port mafia were hoping to take over that. 

but you were a highly-paid mercenary for a reason  and chuuya nakahara was the port mafia’s best fighter. this was child’s play at most.

chuuya rolled up his sleeves and got into his fighting stance beside you. “try not to drag me down, l/n.” 

“speak for yourself, nakahara.” 

and with that, the two of you sprung into action. chuuya, not letting his ability to give an unfair advantage, dodged bullets left and right before sending kick after kick, knocking opponents down to the ground. he easily dodged a punched aimed at his jaw and gripped a man’s arm before throwing him over his back. once he pulled out his knife to use it, he was even more deadly.

as much as he hated to admit it, you caught up with him with easily. you had both pistols out at ready, firing them at your opponents without missing a single shot. your movements were practically seamless, filling in for each other’s blind spots and hitting targets with just the briefest of signals.

at one point, chuuya whirled around to find one of your pistols pointed at him. without a second thought, he moved his head a fraction to the side as a bullet whizzed past his cheek to hit someone behind him.

“that was a bit too close, don’t you think?” he growled at you.

“you really think i’d be dumb enough to kill you with a bullet?” you snorted, walking past him to where boss tanaka now lay on the ground, bleeding from the gunshot wound. 

“im- impossible. those were my best fighters,” he coughed, staring up at you.

“well, rest assured, they did put up a fight,” you smiled sweetly before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out the USB you were after. “what do you think’s in here?” 

“trade routes, probably,” chuuya said, taking his jacket and slipping into it again before stuffing his hands in his pockets and addressing you. “so, how are we going to do this?” 

“well, i was the one who killed boss tanaka,” you raised your eyebrows at him, tossing the USB up and down in your hand. 

“yeah, but i killed more of his henchmen,” chuuya reasoned.

“those are henchmen. everyone knows it doesn’t end until you take the boss.” 

“any one of those henchmen could have killed you if i hadn’t taken them out first.” 

you sighed. “i really don’t feel like fighting you tonight, nakahara.” 

“let’s just get it over and done with then, l/n,” chuuya cracked his knuckles and before you knew it he had you bent over backwards against the railing of the rooftop with his hand wrapped around your neck. you tried to move but the red glow around chuuya’s body and the heaviness around you suggested that it was futile.

“no... fair... ability,” you choked out. now it was chuuya’s turn to smirk as he had you right where he wanted you.

“l/n, you’re the last person who gets to talk to me about what’s fair,” he said, plucking the USB out of your hand and tucking it into the pocket of his shirt before finally letting you go. you gasped for air, massaging your throat as you glared at chuuya. “that’s what you get for double-crossing me last time.” 

“guess i kinda deserve it after slashing your motorcycle tires,” you laughed. 

“go to hell, l/n.” 

“are you asking me out on a date, nakahara?” 

“you wish.” 

“one last thing,” you sauntered up to chuuya, your bodies as close as they were earlier while dancing. he braced himself for anything else you might pull. you raised a hand and for a moment, chuuya thought you were going to make another grab for the USB, only for you to lean in and plant a kiss on his cheek.

he was beyond surprised and it took all of chuuya’s willpower to appear uninterested when he could feel his cheeks burning from the contact. the amused smile playing on your lips only aggravated him more. 

“the hell was that for?” he scowled.

“just wanted to see how you’d react,” you shrugged nonchalantly, sliding your pistols back into their holsters. “until next time, nakahara,” you waved before stopping by the door that you two came in and looking at him over your shoulder. “maybe sooner than you think.” 

...

chuuya shrugged out of his jacket and took off his mask as soon as he got into his car. it had been a long night, especially after running into you, and he wanted nothing more than to get home, take a long, relaxing shower, and get as much sleep as he could before going to the office later that day. 

but before all of that, chuuya took out the USB that he had spent all night trying to get and opening his laptop to check its contents. however, when he finally opened it to find a single .txt file inside, he knew something was wrong.

“fucking bitch,” he cursed under his breath, realizing that you must have swapped out the actual USB for one that you brought with you when you kissed him earlier. it was even more frustrating when chuuya remembered that he was caught completely off-guard by it. 

after collecting himself, he finally opened the .txt file, even though he knew it would just contain a gloating message from you. but the message was just two words, typed beside what appeared to be your phone number.

chuuya could almost hear your voice as he read it: call me.

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[heliads]

Hometown Memories

Sam Wilson left more behind in Delacroix, Louisiana than just his sister and his family home. Sometimes, memories of the past come more frequently than you’d expect.

masterlist

Sam’s only about half an hour from the harbor when he thinks he sees her.

By all accounts, it shouldn’t make sense. Not every rusted, dented car has to be hers, not every flash of a smile could belong to her. Sam hasn’t seen her in years, and even the memories of them are scarce and far between. Yet with every mile closer to his old home, Sam can’t help but remember. 

The car comes and goes beside him, but it doesn’t matter. He’s already lost in thought.

There had been a girl one street over and four houses down. She was only there half the year, her family always off on work trips and dragging her along. Sam always looked up when he heard the roar of a car’s engine down that road, just in case it was her. Most times it wasn’t, and he’d go back to whatever he was doing before with slightly less fervor, but sometimes it was, and he couldn’t help getting up just to make sure. Just to see if he was right.

She always ran down to the docks when she first arrived back home. You could tell it was her even from a distance, even when her back was turned. She’d jump down onto the wind-washed wooden slats, and pause for a second, letting the sun drown her whole. She’d stand still, and then by some magic she would be able to tell Sam was there and turn around, smiling. 

Back already? He’d ask, and she’d smile. We can only stay away for so long. They were young then, elementary schoolers then teenagers always returning to the water to escape from everything for just a second. Sam chuckles now to think of it. What he wouldn’t give to go back to those days, when the largest troubles seem like nothing now. But, he concedes, he wouldn’t truly be able to go back. You can’t turn back the clock forever, and the past must always stay in the past. That being said, Sam can’t seem to shake the habit of reminiscing.

Y/N L/N was one of many friends Sam made on the docks. She was also the only one like her, in a class entirely by herself. Sam can still picture the smile that flashed onto her face at anything and everything, like any small sunrise or happening was cause for a celebration. In times of worry, Sam sometimes wonders what she’d think of him. Does she know that he’s the Falcon now? Has she put the two together to realize that the broadly grinning boy from the boats is the same man with metal wings and a duty that never seems to stop growing heavier?

To be honest, if she saw him moping over the past she’d probably laugh. She’d cover the smile with her hand a second later, as if trying to force herself to stay serious, but it wouldn’t work for long. Her eyes would dance with the glint of laughter, and then the corners of her mouth would tug up as if they couldn’t stay sober for much longer. He’s seen this exact look before, been witness to the moods that changed like the tides.

Sam can remember one day in vivid history. He’d flopped down onto the beach, and seconds later, a pair of sand-tapped footsteps appeared next to him. She’d sat down, curious, and he’d explained himself. Some worry, some trouble that seemed to swallow the world whole. It seemed major to him, of course, but Y/N could never stay worried for long. You could never catch her with her guard down, her impulses always dancing away from you. 

That’s what made Y/N herself, after all. Never serious for a second. Her parents used to click their tongues and mutter about how she’d be brought down hard by the real world. For some reason, this thought makes the smile die away from Sam’s face. What would she be now? After the Blip, after everything that they’ve been forced to go through, would she have that same carefree smile? The idea of her burdened down by worry, her brow creased as it never had been before, seems so utterly unreal that Sam realizes he doesn’t know what to do if he sees it true. The Y/N of his memories is so different from the Y/N of today that for a second he doesn’t know if he could recognize her at all.

The Y/N from that day would have laughed at him. Of course you’ll recognize me, she would say, I don’t look that different at all. That’s basically what had happened that afternoon, anyway. She’d found a way to spin his troubles into a better light, to give him hope. Then she’d stood up, offering a hand and betting that she could race her sailboat around the coast and make a better time than his boat. She’d been right, but only because she managed to time it so that Sam got stuck behind a group of kayakers that he couldn’t ditch for the world. 

When he’d complained of this, she’d just laughed and said that they hadn’t set any rules about trapping your best friend behind the slowest paddlers on the planet, so she didn’t intend to start now. Sam had considered this for a second, then burst out laughing. You’ll regret that in our next race, I promise. You’ll be so far behind me you’ll need a second boat. Sam can’t remember if his vow held true or not. They’d had countless races, some won and some lost. The outcome rarely mattered, anyways- it was worth it from the second Sam looked across the prow of his boat and saw Y/N, cheeks whipped by the wind and a look of giddy concentration on her face. He’d partaken in a thousand races just to see her smile.

Sam doesn’t know why he’s thinking about her so much. In truth, they hadn’t had that many memories to share. If Y/N was only there half a year, and they were busy most of their days, they didn’t see each other often at all. Yet somehow those few moments were even the better for it, because they were stolen away despite all the work and hubbub of the usual days. 

The signs for Delacroix, Louisiana, are coming up into view now, and Sam turns off onto his exit. Maybe he keeps thinking back to those sunlit days because he’s guilty over how they ended. Sam had left Louisiana for the Air Force, trading out the tide lapping at the beach for heavy artillery fire and too many friends gone. Sam had thought that he’d have more time before being shipped off, but then he’d gotten the call late one night telling him he’d be expected at the base the next day.

So, early that next morning Sam had driven off to the regular crowd of well-wishers. Just before he had ducked into his car, he’d seen Y/N standing at the edge of the group. He’d moved towards her, but she was always one arm away or his path was intercepted by a kindly, too talkative neighbour. Just when he’d reached her, he was being pulled away again lest he arrive late. He had never gotten the chance to say goodbye.

Sam can still see that road before him, see Y/N standing in the edge of his rearview mirror. She’d watched him go for as long as she’d thought he could see her, then turned and walked away. Her steps were sure, her back straight against the chill of the morning air. Sam had stayed in Afghanistan for years, and then spent most of his time in Washington, D.C. after that. The few times he’d visited the Louisiana docks, she was never there or never saw him. That was that, and slowly the memories of the two of them faded from his mind. If he saw her at all, he would have no idea what to say to her.

Sam is saved from conversation by the true reason of his arrival at his hometown. He’s not here to see old friends, or ghosts of his past, he’s here to help his sister Sarah. Sam feels twinges of regret when he sees the new worries creasing her eyes, the new burdens that he should have been there to fix. How do you solve the problems of the years when you were dead? Even the experience of the Avengers can’t help him there. There are two battlefields he must face, Sam realizes, and he’s only replaced one with the other.

Sam’s helping Sarah carry some boxes from the boat to the house. As they walk the faded slats of the docks, though, he can’t help glancing at the turned heads of passing neighbours for any signs of a familiar silhouette. When they cross the roads, he listens for that telltale roar of the engine. Sam does his best to be discreet, but Sarah must be paying attention, because at last she turns to him with a teasing grin.

“You’re looking for her, aren’t you?” Sarah doesn’t have to say a name for Sam to know that she’s talking about Y/N. Who else would he be looking for? Sam nods, eyes still trained on the distance. “I have regrets about how I left. She’s one of them.” Sarah nods, falling silent for a second. “She is here, you know. You were lucky with timing. You’re not the only one who seems to want to spread your wings.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “If that was supposed to be a Falcon pun-” Sarah busies herself with the latch on the door. “I thought it was pretty good. Not that much of a bird-en.” Sam groans. “That was awful. Is this my punishment for not being here as often? I get hit with the bad jokes?” Sarah drops her boxes off in a corner of the room, pointing a finger at him even as she begins to laugh. “That’s not a punishment, that’s a blessing. Keep it in mind.” Sam chuckles in spite of himself. “I’ll do my best.”

As the sun sets on the horizon, Sam finds himself heading back to the family boat. Some part of him is hoping that Sarah will reconsider selling it, that she’ll think of all the family history and be swayed to save it. But Sam knows that the memories aren’t the problem, it’s the bank. You can’t afford to keep the memories of the family boat fresh in your mind if you can’t afford the cost of the boat itself. Sam steps onto the boat, feeling the familiar sway of wood on the water. He stares out at the horizon, at the blue lines of tides and fishing boats returning late at night. Maybe Washington did good things for him, but Sam has a special place in his heart for his hometown.

He stays there a while longer, running his hands over the worn wood paneling and the photos still tacked onto the walls. At last, he relents and leaves, stepping out into the gold drenched sunset of the docks once more. Sam is just turning to step off of the wooden slats when he nearly bumps into someone and turns to check if they’re alright. The apologies die on his tongue when he recognizes the woman. It is Y/N, of course. Sam doesn’t think he could truly step foot back at the bay without seeing her again.

She looks just like the girl from his memories. Her eyes are older now, carry more memories with them. Her parents would be happy, she seems to have learned to scrap by in this contest of a world just like they’d hoped. Yet even with the passage of the years, she still has that glint in her eyes, the one light that could never truly disappear even as she grew up.

She doesn’t have to consider him a moment before a smile curves her lips. “Sam Wilson?” Sam returns her smile, something like relief blossoming in his chest. He hadn’t considered that fear before- maybe it would be worrying if he didn’t recognize her, but something about her not knowing him would be worse. He didn’t think of it before because he was so caught up in the past, but knowing that she knows him is enough to calm a wound he didn’t know was there.

He must have stood there silent for too long, because a slight uncertainty bubbles up behind her eyes. “We used to hang out when we were younger. I’m-” Sam cuts her off. “Y/N L/N. Don’t worry, I couldn’t forget you if I tried. You were always the best with the boats, remember?” Y/N laughs at that, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you’re evidently still the kindest boy to walk these shores. I didn’t know you thought I was the best.”

Sam chuckles. “I didn’t need to say it. Remember when you beat my motorboat in your sailboat?” Y/N smiles too, her eyes glowing as she thinks back to that day. “All because of a trick. I was so proud of myself for trapping you back behind those kayakers. Sometimes I can stand tourists after all.” Sam groans. “It was terrible. I had to explain myself to everybody why I upset so many newbies in boats.”

Y/N’s smiles deepens. “You upset them? It’s not like you mowed them over and left them struggling in your wake.” Sam shudders. “You wouldn’t have known by talking to them.” They stay silent for a moment, reveling in the chance to soak up the old memories, then Y/N speaks once more. “It’s not like you’ve been the worse for the years. You're getting up to some pretty important things, I hear.”

Sam sighs. “It’s certainly an experience. Some days I have to shake my head and wonder how I got into these rooms to speak to these people.” Y/N clicks her tongue. “You know, I’m not entirely surprised. You’ve always had a knack for standing up for people, this is just that at a bigger scale. You and your big heart, always finding a way to look out for more people.”

Sam’s gaze softens. “That’s one way to look at it. Sometimes I worry I do more harm than good.” Y/N places a hand on his arm, the comforting gesture somehow connecting the two of them in a way that words could never manage. “I have a feeling you’ll figure it out. You’ve got a good heart, Sam Wilson, and I’d count on a good heart a thousand times before anything else.”

Sam offers her a hand as they both step off the docks and back onto solid ground. “Will I be seeing you around?” He asks, and Y/N tilts her head. “I don’t know. I never plan on staying long, but I could make an exception.” Sam feels oddly pleased at this. “For an old friend?” Y/N looks back at him, the smile hitting him like a sunray. “For the girl who never got a chance to say goodbye.”

When they go their separate ways and Sam walks back to Sarah’s house, he can’t tell whether or not Y/N feels the same way about him. There will always be more chances to see her again, to remember her little phrases and changes in expression. This is part of going back, of making the commitment to his family and his home and his past. If Sam wasn’t here to see Y/N again, he wouldn’t be here at all. Tomorrow brings with it another day, and Sam has a good feeling that he’ll be waiting for a hometown ghost to take his hand once more.

#sam wilson #sam wilson imagines #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson oneshot #falcon #falcon imagines #falcon x reader #falcon oneshot #tfatws #tfatws imagines #tfatws x reader #tfatws oneshot #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #avengers oneshot #captain america imagine

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober 2021 - October 7th - Blindness

Gift fic for @sassydefendorflower

Fandom: Nightwing, Batman - All Media Types

AO3

Warnings: Head Injury, slight descriptions of blood

---

Slade dodges under the swinging blow of Blüdhaven’s newest sewer monster; born from whatever chemicals a rat has gotten into near some chemist-based super-villain’s old hideout. Now, while it’s not everyday Slade goes out of his way to take down various monsters across the ‘Haven, this time… he feels a little obligated to.

Yes, he is the reigning champion of being Nightwing’s least favorite and most powerful villain, but unfortunately Nightwing is Slade’s favorite and most interesting opponent. He came to the ‘Haven to give the kid a head’s up that he has a mark in the city; a regular challenge he likes to set for the kid to try and stop him. However, when he didn’t find Nightwing along any of his normal routes, nor in his apartment, he turned to the news to see if the kid had left for Gotham or some other city without him noticing; preparing to postpone this mark until he was back in his patron city and away from other bats.

It was then he noticed the breaking news that a giant, sewage themed rat was wreaking havoc under Blüdhaven’s streets in the downtown areas, near a major subway platform. Nightwing was spotted going in, telling people to stay out, and he hasn’t been seen since.

Of course, Slade went to the fight, and it’s a good thing he did. When he got there, he found Nightwing limp in the creature’s tail, held inches from it’s long and jagged front teeth. Blood trailed down the side of his skull in a steady flow. Slade knew immediately he was unconscious.

He took out one of his pistols and shot at the rat, but the monster was so large and feral it hardly did anything when it went into its arm. It dropped Nightwing like a sack of flour onto the ground, snarling as it turned to it’s newest threat, drool dripping down it’s snout. Slade pulled out his swords and faced it head on.

The creature, while lacking any intelligence, was fast and powerful. Even Slade had trouble ducking under its tail that it used like a club and avoiding its powerful legs and jaw. While it’s disappointing to see Nightwing taken down by a creature as low as this, he can’t exactly blame the kid when it takes himself several minutes to finally get his sword through the thing’s tail. He cuts off the appendage, then while the monster screeches in agony, he pierces its throat.

It goes down twitching and gurgling, its blood bubbling down into the sewer's already questionable streams of water. He whips his swords out, getting off a majority of the wretched blood, then heads over to his unconscious person of interest.

Nightwing doesn’t move as he kneels down beside him, in fact he’s still in the rather undignified position he had been dropped in. Frowning, Slade moves Nightwing into a better position that won't strain his spine and smacks his face lightly to wake him up. He doesn’t even twitch, causing Slade to frown more. His head is still bleeding, which is worrisome. He grabs a tube of smelling-salts from his pouch—usually used to wake up people he’s previously knocked out to get some information out of them—and firmly places it under Nightwing’s nose. A solid few seconds pass before Nightwing’s eyes shoot open under his domino mask; his hands fly out to his face to stifle coughs and he rocks forward so he’s sitting instead of laying down.

Slade doesn’t try to make conversation quite yet, more worried about that head injury. He holds Nightwing by the jaw to tilt his head and get a better look, but Nightwing reacts like the touch was electrified. He smacks Slade’s arms away and jumps to his feet, stumbling back and holding out a single escrima. Slade doesn’t know where the other one went.

“Sit back down,” Slade growls, “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Nightwing flinches at the initial sound of his voice, his mouth dropping open in shock before lowering his single weapon slightly.

“Slade?” he asks, his voice slurred.

Slade resists sighing, and lifts his eyebrow. Who else would it be? It’s not that dark here, even with Slade’s heightened senses. Nightwing doesn’t relax completely though, as if waiting for an answer. Not for the first time that night, another spike of worry rises in his chest.

“Kid, sit down or I’ll make you sit down.”

Nightwing almost goes boneless after that, breathing a single ”thank fuck” before sinking to his ass and putting his head in his hands with a groan.

Now Slade does sigh, even rolling his eyes as he does so, as he once again approaches Nightwing and grabs onto his face to look at the wound. Nightwing hisses and flinches out of his grasp.

“Don’t,” he says, “I already know how bad it is.”

Slade hums, folding his arms across his chest. “How bad is it then?”

Nightwing remains quiet for a moment, biting his lip, perhaps internally fighting with himself on whether or not it’s a good idea to tell one of his biggest enemies about how injured he is. Eventually, Nightwing makes the smart choice and speaks anyway, knowing Slade will find no pleasure in ending him if he's already down.

“Head feels like a war-drum. Feel like ‘m gonna throw up. Voice slurred… ears ringing… I-” Nightwing hesitates. Then sighs. “I can’t see.”

“You can’t see?” Slade repeats, kneeling down to once again take Nightwing’s face in his hands. Nightwing fights the grasp, but this time Slade holds strong and takes off the mask, revealing unfocused electric-blues.

“Nothing, it’s all black,” Nightwing whispers, a slight wobble in his voice that Slade is sure he’s trying to keep down.

He grabs a small flashlight from his tools and shines it in Nightwing’s eyes, frowning as there’s hardly any reaction in the pupils. He clicks off the light and releases Nightwing, thinking of options.

He’s sure the last thing the kid’ll want is to get dumped at the hospital, but Slade’s no medical expert, especially with something as fragile as a normal human’s brain.

He sighs, as only one option realistically reveals itself. The last thing Slade wants to do is risk Nightwing going home all on his own and possibly making this blindness permanent when there could be something that can be done to help him. Nightwing is a competent, talented young man, which is why he’s so intriguing to Slade—and while he has all the faith that Nightwing will find a way to fight even if his sight is forever gone, Slade also knows the loss of sense will be a major blow to the kid’s moral for months to come. He’s seen how far Nightwing can fall with helplessness and depression plaguing him, and honestly the thrill of fighting him leaves when his fire is replaced with a desperateness to prove to himself that he’s still worth something. He needs Nightwing to have a steady support system, and help for this injury.

Nightwing is going to hate him for a while after this, but Slade has no choice. He doesn’t fight against Nightwing to kill him, but because those fights are the only thing that brings a fun challenge. For how human Nightwing is, he fights like a beast, and Slade can’t lose that.

“Up,” he says while returning the kid’s mask; he grabs Nightwing by the arm and lifts him to his feet. Nightwing groans, but doesn’t fight too badly as Slade firmly wraps his arm around Slade’s shoulders. “Where is the best place to exit this place without being spotted?”

Nightwing, with the complexion of the inside of an avocado, talks him through on where to go. He looks one small fit of nausea away from throwing up all over Slade’s armor.

Luckily, he keeps it in his stomach—perhaps the discomfort in his body being something more desirable to deal with than a vomit covered Slade—and by the time they make it out of a small, boarded up and abandoned, exit to the subway line, Slade lets the kid take a break by the nearest dumpster. Nightwing, the poor thing, must have lost everything he’s eaten today in those fifteen minutes.

Now that he’s out below Blüdhaven’s night sky, he’s now the one in charge of leading the way. Nightwing stumbles along blindly—hah—never letting go of his weak grasp around Slade’s neck and shoulders.

Finally, they make it to where Slade has parked the car he had taken into the city. The windows are all tinted to near-illegal levels, but Slade still stuffs Nighting in the back-seats and hands him a bucket he had in the trunk that previously held a few hundred bullets from when he bought them in bulk.

“Throw up on the seats and I’m making you buy me a new car.”

“Bet this one was stolen anyway,” Nightwing mumbles, curled up in the backseats with the bucket touching his stomach like a flu-ridden child.

Slade scoffs and closes the door after reminding him to keep his head down but to stay awake. He takes off his Deathstroke mask, then the top bits of his armor, and shoves them in the truck. Then, after he gets in the driver's seat, they’re off.

Getting out of downtown Blüdhaven should be the hardest part of all of this; both for Slade’s navigation skills and for Nightwing’s gag-reflex. Eventually, however, they make it out of the twists and turns of downtown and eventually make it onto the main roads of the city—still crowded with cars coming too and from various ass-awful shifts of work. Nightwing remains quite agreeable in the backseats, responding that he’s awake every time Slade calls for a status report (about every five-ten minutes), and groaning at every turn no matter how slow Slade takes them.

However, that agreeableness quickly leaves the boy when Slade enters the on-ramp connecting to the north-south interstate.

Kid almost makes himself throw up by how quickly he scrambles to a sitting position; ignoring Slade's commands to lay back down.

“Turn around,” Nightwing growls. And it’s a strong growl too, reminds Slade of a chihuahua. Shaking and all.

“You’re currently blind, you have no idea where-”

“I know the roads of my city, Slade. And you’re leaving it.”

Slade sighs and merges into traffic, then uses one hand to shove Nightwing back town onto the seats. “Keep down, a cop will see you.”

“Where are you taking me?”

Slade remains silent.

“Tell me it’s a secret mansion somewhere and you have your own personal doctor that can help. Or you know a guy that happens to be down south. Or-”

“I’m taking you to Gotham,” Slade says, ripping off the band-aid.

Nightwing looks all sorts of emotions in the span of a few seconds. The one he settles on, however, is anger.

“No.”

“Batman gets injured all the time,” Slade begins to explain, but Nightwing looks frantic now.

“No, don’t take me back- I’ve worked so hard to get him to see that I can do things without him- and he has a new kid now and-”

“Suck it up,” Slade growls. “Deal with it. I’m not like you, kid. I don’t know how to take care of a normal human, and I definitely don’t know anyone who can because I have no need to. What you need is a doctor that can treat you off the record, who knows about your nightlife. Batman has that, doesn’t he.”

It’s not a question, but Nightwing’s silence is still an answer.

“Whatever your old man thinks of you for coming back injured doesn’t matter in the end. Nor does the new kid. What you should worry more about is what I think of you after this. You’re not fighting Batman, you’re fighting me.”

“What if he doesn’t let me fight after this?” Nightwing… Dick whispers as he finally lays back down on the seats. He’s taken his mask off and is rubbing his eyes, perhaps quelling tears or a headache. Perhaps both. “What if my sight doesn’t come back? What if he retires me?”

Slade remains silent for a second, then answers as firmly as he can. “I’ve known plenty of formidable enemies who are missing a sense. You’ll find a way to get back up, and if he doesn’t let you then I’ll just have to break in, kidnap you, and train you myself.”

That startles a laugh out of Dick. “I thought you were no longer trying to get me to be your apprentice.”

Slade shrugs, allowing a smile on his lips, selfishly comforted that Dick couldn’t see it. “You have a lot of potential, kid, I’d rather you use it against me than not at all. I’ll train you and release you like the bird you are, and we can get back to the same ol’ dance we have.”

Dick takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah… okay. I’ll hold you to that.”

-o-o-o-o-

Slade parks the car in an old neighborhood in Gotham that has a considerable drop in crime compared to the rest of the city. All things considered. Though, the sun is beginning to rise and Slade’s positive the Bat knew he was in his city the second he drove into it. Dick knows this too, as he’s telling Slade to hurry up and get out of here despite the boy still looking green around the gills. Slade grabs his mask and armor, then turns to the stolen car he’s about to abandon and opens the back door near Dick’s face.

Suddenly, and rather embarrassingly, he doesn’t know what to say. Thankfully, Dick is a freaky empath sometimes and gives an exhausted smile.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’ll get through this.”

“Good,” Slade replies. “I won't let you quit.”

His grin widens. “Never.”

Then Slade closes the door and takes off quickly, only pausing on a distant roof to watch a large black figure and a smaller red-and-yellow clad child approach the car and catch sight of the injured bird inside.

From there, Slade turns and leaves, not looking back.

He’ll see Nightwing on the battlefield again. No matter what, Slade will make sure of it.

#dick grayson #nightwing #slade wilson #deathstroke #batman #whumptober2021 #no.6 #blindness #fanfiction #jin writes

[kindofwriter]

Hello Skyjacks fandom, may I please introduce you to my favourite thing to do: turn RPG scenes I love into TV scripts. I’ve never done a scene that doesn’t have fluid dialogue before, so this is more of an edit, but aah! Flashbacks, my beloved! From ep 15.

Transcript under the cut:

INT. TAVERN. DAY.

TRAVIS' footsteps echo as he picks his way around upturned tables and towards the bar. JONNIT and GABLE remain by the door.

TRAVIS pauses and lifts up an overturned tankard. He tilts it, and a few dregs drip to the floor.

TRAVIS: Well, we might be able to at least scavenge something.

TRAVIS: Well, we might be able to at least scavenge something.

GABLE: I think our best bet is probably to find the warehouse. Get as many supplies as we can to get us to the next port, then try and trade there.

TRAVIS has reached the bar at this point. He hops over it, then begins inspecting bottles.

TRAVIS: Guess I'll start here.

GABLE makes a move towards the bar. JONNIT stumbles after them.

GABLE: Trav- Hey! This isn't the warehouse!

TRAVIS picks up a tall glass bottle, flips it in the air and catches it again, then begins to pour it into a whiskey-sized glass he found behind the bar. He is beginning to make a Maelstrom.

TRAVIS: Can I get you anything?

GABLE stops just before the bar, JONNIT beside them. They pause for a second, look to JONNIT, then sit.

GABLE: You know what? What the hell. Uh, what do they have back there?

JONNIT tentatively sits beside GABLE.

TRAVIS: Well, uh, do you have a signature drink?

GABLE: No.

A smirk, softer than usual, spreads across TRAVIS' face.

TRAVIS: Would you like one?

GABLE: Uuh...

His own drink poured, TRAVIS begins to mix something for GABLE.

TRAVIS: Jonnit, would you like something?

JONNIT: Uuh, I'll take a pickle?

With his back to his companions, TRAVIS gives another small smile. He turns.

TRAVIS (with a jovial eye-roll): Well, there's the jar.

TRAVIS slides a large jar of pickles down the bar at JONNIT. JONNIT opens it, grabs a pickle, then fidgets in his seat for a moment.

JONNIT: Hey Gable? This is kinda maybe something for a little later, but-

TRAVIS pours something into GABLE's glass that makes the clear liquid begin to smoke. He grabs a shot glass and begins pouring something into it.

JONNIT; I was wondering, when we get back in the air, this thing-

JONNIT gestures to his forehead.

JONNIT: Has been on my mind a lot, and, uh, I just wanted to know: would you maybe be interested in  helping me figure out what it is, how to use it? I feel like it's, it's special. And I wanna be able to call on it when I want, but I don't know how. And it's sometimes a little scary.

TRAVIS sets the shot glass in front of GABLE - it's filled with blood red liquid - then grabs another bottle.

GABLE: Jonnit, from what I've seen you're capable of some incredible things. Things that I know are frightening to you, and I know you have a desire to control. But those things are quite unique to you. As far as I know, perhaps it's divine magic, but it's nothing I've ever encountered. When it comes to magic  the most powerful thing I've found you can do is to allow yourself to do it.

JONNIT: To just... let it happen?

TRAVIS places the smoking glass before GABLE and picks up his own drink. JONNIT and GABLE pause their conversation to look at him.

TRAVIS: To letting ourselves be ourselves from time to time. Even if it is a little painful.

GABLE: Take flight.

JONNIT: Take flight.

TRAVIS: Take flight.

JONNIT crunches down on his pickle. GABLE takes a sip. TRAVIS watches them over the rim of his own glass.

GABLE: This is delicious! It's not often we get to.. have fun?

As TRAVIS downs his drink, GABLE turns back to JONNIT.

GABLE: Just, don't be afraid of it, is what I mean.

JONNIT: I feel like that just ends up with me waiting around for it to happen, and it happens when it wants to, and I feel like I want it to happen when I want it to.

GABLE: You feel that it controls you?

TRAVIS sets his now empty glass down on the bar. He pokes about a little, finds some peanuts and chucks a couple into his mouth.

JONNIT: Yeah. I wanna be in control.

GABLE: That's wise. I'm not sure how much I can help-

JONNIT's shoulders droop, and he tries really hard not to let the disappointment show on his face. To hide it, he takes a bite of the pickle.

GABLE: But I can show you how I do my thing.

JONNIT: Yeah, uh, that'd be great. Thanks, Gable.

TRAVIS wanders out from behind the bar, winding around tables, clearly looking to see if anyone has dropped anything. He reaches a corner, tucked away behind a support beam, where there is a small, square table for playing Illimat. 

TRAVIS runs his fingers over the grain and a slightly glazed look overtakes his face. He begins to take a seat and-

CUT TO:

INT. BAR. DUSK.

The exact same place, only now it's bustling. A shanty plays in the background. The scene is packed with characters. Out the window we can see, across a fog-less mountain top, the sun is preparing to set. 

TRAVIS is sitting in the exact same seat we just saw him drop into, but he looks different. Same coat, but it's newer, better maintained. There's a softness to his face and a lightness to his eyes that we haven't seen before. He looks younger, though of course he isn't.

Across from TRAVIS is sat a burly man with curls pulled back into a ponytail. The two have almost finished playing a game of Illimat.

TRAVIS makes a move, and the crowd that have gathered around them cheer - it looks like he's going to win. The sly look TRAVIS gives his competitor confirms this.

With a flick of his wrist, the COMPETITOR plays his card, and the crowd goes wild. He crosses his arms and leans back, smirking at TRAVIS.

For a moment TRAVIS looks confused, then he begins to reach across the table.

TRAVIS: You cheated!

COMPETITOR (rumbling: )Didn't take you for a sore loser.

TRAVIS: That was the only card you could have possibly played to win. The odds are impossible.

COMPETITOR: Guess fate was just on my side.

That gets TRAVIS' hackles up.

TRAVIS: No, that card was already in the harvest pile, I saw it!

As TRAVIS reaches for the deck a knife is thrown down, pinning the cards to the table.

COMPETITOR: Oi!

The COMPETITOR rises, looming over TRAVIS, who also quickly jumps to his feet.

COMPETITOR: That's not the way we play here.

The energy in the crowd has changed now. People are tense, anticipating a fight.

TRAVIS tries to respond to the man, but instead he bares his teeth, a short, sharp growl emitting from his throat. We see panic flare in TRAVIS' eyes as he notices the sun through the window behind the man's head: it's setting.

The COMPETITOR took this to be a sign of aggression and lunges for TRAVIS. TRAVIS winces, but before any damage can be done two other patrons have grabbed hold of the man. They begin to drag him from the table, mumbling that he's drunk and should head home, not worth it over a visitor etc.

The COMPETITOR reaches to grab something from the table - the money, TRAVIS assumes, and also starts reaching for it. However all he does is scoop a small snuff box up and shove it into his pocket.

People begin to move in towards TRAVIS, asking if he's alright, where he's staying, congratulating him on his skill. TRAVIS ignores them, covering his mouth with one hand as we hear the loud and painful snapping and twisting of his jaw.

With his other hand he scoops up what should have been the winnings and slinks out the door.

CUT TO:

EXT. TAVERN. DUSK.

Now lifting his cravat to cover his mouth, TRAVIS exits the tavern and starts to turn, aiming to slink down an alleyway. Before he does, however, his eyes are drawn to a commotion just past the warehouse. The COMPETITOR is still being guided away, into a bunk house down the street.

CUT TO:

EXT. TAVERN. DAY.

TRAVIS is stood outside the door in the exact same position, looking to the bunk house. Now, however, the tavern is dark and cold.He starts to walk towards the bunk house.

GABLE and JONNIT emerge, clearly confused.

GABLE (hissed): Travis?

JONNIT (whispered): Travis?

We pan out in order to see TRAVIS walking towards the bunk house and GABLE and JONNIT at the door simultaneously.

GABLE (slightly louder): Travis?

JONNIT (normal volume): Travis?

GABLE (yelling slightly); Travis!

JONNIT + GABLE: Travis!

TRAVIS continues to ignore them, having almost reached the door to the bunk house now.

GABLE shrugs to JONNIT.

GABLE: Well, I guess we don't need to go to the same place. Do you wanna go to the warehouse?

JONNIT nods and the pair set off.

CUT TO:

INT. BUNK HOUSE. DAY.

TRAVIS is just pushing open the door to the reception area. There are chairs and tables littered about - untidy, but not in disarray as the tavern had been. It's deadly silent.

Faint light filters in through the windows, but with the thick fog it does little to illuminate the room. TRAVIS reaches up and lights an oil lamp that hangs beside his head. It looks as if he lights it with his finger, but as he reaches to take the oil lamp down we see him palm a lighter.

Taking the lamp with him, TRAVIS makes his way down a corridor at the back of the room, lined on either side with doors. He pushes the first one he comes to, and it opens onto a set of bunks. The beds are unmade and there are a few belongings scattered about, but nothing that suggests a struggle.

We see TRAVIS continue down the corridor, pushing a few more doors, until suddenly he stops.

On the floor of this room, slightly tucked beneath a bunk, is a brass Illimat box, the one the COMPETITOR had laid on the table. The lid has been lost or removed.

TRAVIS crouches and reaches inside, lifting out a small snuff box. He closes his eyes, letting out a soft, slow breath. As he stands he pockets the snuff box, turning on his heel, only to stop in his tracks again. 

We pan round until we can see the back of the door. Etched into it, in thin, jagged letters, is the words 'IT IS TIME!'

TRAVIS pushes the door open and hurries out of the room, back towards the entrance.

#skyjacks #travis matagot #jonnit kessler #gable skyjacks #author's note

[writingsbychlo]

little drummer boy | drummer!dylan o’brien

word count; 10,892

summary; bumping into an old flame from your past with your son can have some odd repercussions.

notes; this made me tear up to write, brace yourselves for some deep feelings.

warnings; a little bit of heartbreak. that’s about it.

“Santa! There he is!” You grinned, gasping a little as your arm was jerked roughly, almost tripping over your own feet as the boy half your size pulled you along with twice your strength, and you were gripping onto his hand tightly just to not let him slip away as he took off.

The line was surprisingly short - but then again - it was the day before Christmas Eve, late at night and just before the mall was shutting, most of the crowds were filled with teens and young adults, meeting up with friends or going on festive-themed dates, before the big holiday date staring you in the eye, and even you had to admit that it was late to do any kind of last-minute shopping. “Baby, slow down! You’re hurting my arm!”

His speed did drop, bright and round eyes peering up at you, bottom lip jutting out slightly as he came to a halt just before the grotto. “I’m sorry, mommy, but look! He’s really in there!”

The teen dressed up as an elf out front did not look best pleased about having such a late-arriving customer, the girl putting down her phone, before doing her best to wear a bright smile as she greeted your son, taking his hand and guiding him towards the curtain covered entrance. You followed behind, snapping a picture of the bright smile on his face when he turned back to look at you, before he was disappearing behind the curtain. There was a loud laugh, a typical ‘ho, ho, ho’, and then the loud squealing of your little boy, clapping of his small hands, and your heart leapt in your chest.

Being a young mother was hard, and being a single mother was even harder, but moments like this made it all worth it, because as you covered your mouth to hide your chuckles so that he didn’t feel as though you were invading on his personal space. He was worth every hard moment, because you loved him with all of your heart, and now, he was pouring out his deepest desires out to the man dressed up as his idol, and you were noting it down.

The usual; chocolates, stuffed animals, a spider-man backpack, a onesie with the feet on. It was all stuff you’d already bought, gifts that you had wrapped up and hidden in your room, under the bed or on top of the wardrobe to keep them concealed, ready to stack up under the Christmas tree for him. You had big plans this year, the last few years had been tough, but with your son starting his first ear with full-time education, you’d been able to get a job, bringing some real money into the household for the two of you, and you felt like your life was finally picking up.

Leaving college hadn't been the bright experience that most people were able to boast of, jobs lines up and careers ahead, but you barely even finished your senior year, and nobody wanted to hire a college graduate who was sixth months pregnant, and ready to go on maternity leave, and you’d never had that same kickstart in life. It wasn’t how you expected it to go, to have a four-year-old by the time you were reaching your mid-twenties, but it was the way it had turned out, and so you’d made it work.

The final request caught your attention, a groan rising in your throat just at the implications of it, and you could already hear the banging on your front door of neighbours wanting to complain, or of the landlord telling you to keep it down, because a four-year-old set loose with a drumkit sounded like a recipe for disaster. You were going to ignore it, push down that desperate urge to make your child happy, but then there was a sign in the toy store just across the road, and you wanted to whine like an infant at the fact that subconsciously, you knew you’d already made the decision.  

The elf was standing at the exit, the pathway lined by candy-cane lanterns, and you made your way over to her quickly. “Can you keep him busy in there for five more minutes?”

“Huh?” She startled a little, looking up, and trying to put her phone away while she was on shift, as if it hadn't already been obvious both times.

You pointed across to the toystore, before looking back to her. “I’ll be right there, I’m going to go and order him that drumset he just asked for. Can you just keep him busy in there for a moment?”

She smiled a little, shrugging her shoulder, before peering back inside and nodding her head. “He’s chatting his ear off about the reindeers, anyway. Cute kid, really chatty, but in that entertaining and funny kind of way.”

You grinned, knowing it to be true, and thanking her, before you were dashing away to the shop. The grotto was still in your sight, you never took your eyes off of it, telling the store assistant that you had to be quick, to which they were more than happy to cooperate. You had it booked, paid for, and delivery set for later that night with the premium option, before you were dashing back over, just as your son was leaving.

He glanced around for a moment, before spotting you, his face lighting up as he dashed over to you, a golden package sitting in both of his hands. “Look, mommy, Santa gave me a chocolate reindeer!”

“He did? Are you serious?”

“Yeah! Look!” He thrust it upwards towards your face, and you took it from him, tucking it into your bag safely and taking his hand. “Can I eat it later?”

“You can have ice-cream or the reindeer, but not both. Which do you want?”

He pouted at you, wanting both, but you knew he couldn't take the sugar rush, and so despite his puppy-eyes, you were forced to be stern with him. “I want the ice-cream.” He grumbled the words out, taking your hand but not returning the squeeze you gave to him, choosing the reason that you had come to the mall in the first place. It had been a trip out for a sweet treat, but then he’d seen the signs to see Santa, and become completely distracted.

“Good choice! I bet they have some rocky-road left, and you love the little marshmallows, right?” He nodded eagerly, the two of you stepping towards the escalators, stepping onto the machines, and he bounced excitedly always loving the moving steps, holding on tightly to the bannister. Live music was playing, a band set up on the stage below, and you couldn’t see much, the large crowd gathered around them making it hard for you to make the name out, but they were pretty good, you had to admit, and your snow as staring at them in awe.

More precisely, he was staring at the drummer, a soft laugh to yourself leaving your lips as you watched him stare on with rapt attention. There was something familiar about the man, even from this distance, you couldn’t make out much about him, and as you stepped off of the machinery at the bottom floor, he was obstructed from your view, and so you shrugged it off.

“Do you want to go and watch the band?”

“Can we really?” He was so excited, and you treasured knowing your child well enough to get that kind of reaction from him, nodding your head and pushing him toward them a little.

“Just for a few songs, then we’ll get ice-cream, before you get tired, okay?”

He hummed his acknowledgement, already distracted, and trying to pull you around the edges of the crowd to get to the front. When he couldn’t get through, the song building as it started coming towards an end, he let go of your hand, small stature making it much easier for him to duck and weave between the people, disappearing from your sight as he headed toward the stage, and your heart leapt up into your throat.

You couldn't see him, trying to remember was he was wearing so that you could start picking him out, nudging through the crowds and past people, panic beginning to build in your throat. Ten minutes passed, the crowd thinning and the songs coming to an end, and yet you still couldn’t find him. Whipping around on your heel, you tried to find him, spinning in circles, feeling like you could barely breathe, before his voice was calling out to you.

“Mommy!”

You could scarcely tell the direction in which he was shouting from over the new, classical hymns playing over the crackling mall speakers. You were looking at the floor, hearing him shout from a little closer, and you looked up, finding him sitting above the crowds. His hands were waving to you, wobbling a little bit from the height, and you were scared in an entirely new way, because he was sitting up on someone’s shoulders.

“Can you see your mom, buddy? Which way?”

He pointed, and you felt a vague spark of familiarity run through you at the muffled sound of the voice through the crowds, before your son was moving toward you as you moved toward him. When you got there, you could have cried in relief, watching as two strong arms lifted him down from broad shoulders, before you were taking him into your arms, holding him to your chest and cupping the back of his head.

You’d never had that kind of scare before, the stinging in the back of your throat making itself known as you tried not to cry, feeling him hug you back just as tightly. Finally, you crouched down, letting him stand on his own two feet once again, before you were taking a deep breath, and pulling back to look at your son. “Don’t do that to me! Do you know how scared I was? You know not to run off!”

“I wanted to see the band!”

“You have to wait for me, alright? Never run off on your own!” He nodded, tears lining his eyes as his head hung, and you felt a pang of guilt for shouting at him, but it was unnecessary evil, and you tried not to cry in front of him, tipping his head back up. “It’s okay, I’m not mad anymore. Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“I’m sorry, mommy.” His voice cracked a little, and you sighed, hugging him close to you once again, and his little arms wrapped around your neck. You took a moment to glance up, eyes narrowing on the man who’d brought you back your son, something like nostalgia washing over you, and he was fixing you with the same look, before his eyes were widening. It only took you a second longer to process it, before recognition was coming crashing down over you, and you were gaping at him. Standing to your full height, you took him in a little more clearly, eyes sweeping over his face, and you felt like your breath had been punched from your lungs.

“Dylan?”

“Hey, sweetheart.” There was a sweet tone to his voice, words you’d heard in that tone so many times before, a dull-aching in your chest, but your lips formed a smile nonetheless, drowning in how it felt to be around him once again.

It had been years, and that time had been kind to him. The baby face you’d known was gone, the sweet smile had matured, a cocky smirk accompanying it, something playful and cheeky, stubble lining the skin that had once been smooth, neat but messy, scruffy in a way he perfected, and the buzzcut he’d always worn had grown out into longer strands, matted to his forehead a little from sweat, and you licked at your lips, taking him in. The one thing that hadn't changed, though, was the way those honey-brown eyes still swirled with some kind of deep affection and emotion that you were drowning in.

His eyes dropped down to your son, and you placed your hands on his shoulders, watching the slightly nervous look that flickered over his features as he met your gaze once again. “You have a son.”

“Yeah, he’s four.” He let out a little sigh of relief, both of you swallowing thickly, before he was letting the tension go, his shoulders dropping, and he was holding his arms out for you. You were quick to fall into his arms, feeling the solid muscle beneath that was a new development, and you felt something shift into place as you were wrapped in his embrace once again. It had been so long, years since you’d seen him, leaving for college and thinking he was just someone who would fade away into your memory, and you’d never expected that you would run back into him at a mall charity performance for Christmas, but at least one of you had achieved your dreams, he was pursuing his music, and you couldn't be prouder.

“Mommy! You know a famous person!”

You both let out a laugh, releasing one another and you tried to ignore the heat crawling up your cheeks at the embarrassment of having almost forgotten where you were. “Yeah, kiddo, this is Dylan. He’s a drummer!”

“I know! I saw him on stage!”

Dylan crouched down before your son, a beaming smile on his face. “You looked pretty good yourself, buddy. Playing air drums! Do you want to be a drummer?”

“Yeah! Santa is going to bring me a drum kit!” Dylan’s eyes flicked up to you, and you rolled your eyes fondly, but nodded your head in confirmation, and Dylan looked back to your son.

“You saw Santa, then? How lucky are you?” He poked at your son’s side, the boy curling up and laughing in a fit of hysterics and being tickled, and having such attention on himself, and you hated the way your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest at the sight.

“Yeah! We’re going for ice-cream, too!”

“Oh, you are? It must be Christmas, look at all the treats you’re getting!” He stood back up, using his free hand to take Dylan’s and you could’ve choked on your own breath at the sight.

“Will you come for ice-cream with us?” You froze, jaw dropping, before looking back over to the stage, and your son was staring at your expectantly, Dylan looking down at the boy, clearly at a loss for words too, and he was tugging at your hands needily. “He can come too, right, mommy?”

“Yeah, sure.” You didn’t have to think much about the decision, and Dylan smiled a little. “You don’t have any more sets to do, right?”

“No, I just have to pack up the drums, the rest of the band can take it out, and I’ll catch a cab home.”

“Cool. We’ll, uh, meet you there, then?” Dylan only nodded, staring at you for a second longer, before you could feel your son swinging your arms with boredom, and you cleared your throat.

“I’ll be there soon.”

You could only nod, pointing out the little store you would be going to on the other side of the mall, and he nodded, walking backwards away from you both, scratching at the back of his neck, and waving to your son before turning back and going ahead to start disassembling the instruments.

You followed after your son, mind spinning, barely able to hear the words he was saying as he chattered away beside you, because you felt like you were drowning in your thoughts. Your son had his face all but pressed to the glass, breath fogging up the cool surface as he stared at the different flavours, the woman behind the counter cooing at him as she held the little cardboard cup in her hands.

When he finally chose a scoop of rocky-road, a scoop of mint, and a scoop of strawberry swirl, you paid for both your own, and another pot, handing her over the money, before grabbing the little plastic spoons and letting him lead you over to the booth in the back, watching him run away toward the hidden leather seats in the back, gripping his pit in both hands, and it was a relief that he simply didn’t drop it.

As he climbed up, you settled in beside him, and he was already pushing a spoon of ice-cream into his mouth, before looking down at your pot. “Why do you get more than me?”

“Because adults and big kids can handle more! You don’t want to get a brain freeze, do you?” His face screwed up at the implication, and you laughed, kissing the top of his head. You pulled away, lifting up your own spoon, and tucking into the frozen treat. You were a little calmer now, trying to sift through your thoughts, and the little bell over the door to the fifties style ice-cream parlour dinged, a familiar body walking through the door, and you felt like you were reliving the last day of senior summer all over again.

He took his seat, eyes widening a little as he saw the pot of mango and vanilla sitting there. “You got me ice-cream?”

“Is it still your favourite?” You offered, taking a bite of your own, and he nodded, staring down at it for a second, before raising his hands to pick up the cardboard and the spoon.

“Yeah, it is. I just can’t believe you remember that, is all.”

You opened your mouth to speak, before your snow as taking over, jumping straight into asking your old friend what it was like to be in a band, both of you laughing, before he was beginning to answer all of the questions being fired at him. It was incredible, to watch you son interact with someone else, he often took a while to warm up to anyone else, and your heart was warming and aching at the same time, because it had been so long since you’d had someone in your life, romantically or simply as a friend. After all, you just never had time for it.

His foot stretched out under the table, wrapping around your ankle, and you jumped a little, looking up to him and not realising you’d even tuned out, but he was already looking at you. Stretching his hand out across the tabletop, you slipped your hand into his after only a moment of pause, his thumb smoothing over your knuckles, and you sighed, meeting his eyes for a fleeting second.

He squeezed, trying to pull your attention back to him as the smaller boy wittered on in his ear, finally giving up as he took a deep breath, having talked himself in a circle. Your son was nudging your arm, trying to push up underneath, and you chuckled lifting it up so that he could cuddle into your side.

“What are you doing for Christmas, Noah?”

“What I always do!” He said, a tone to his voice that read as ‘duh!’ and you grinned, rubbing his arm lightly as he covered his mouth to hide a yawn, but he wasn’t overly tired yet, and you wanted to soak up the last few minutes you could with the man you’d lost touch with so long ago.

“Tell him all about it, baby.”

“Well, I always get to sleep in super late, and mommy puts on a movie for me! She makes pancakes for breakfast!” He cheered, and you softened a little, never knowing it mattered that much to him, never actually having heard he day from his perspective before.

“Pancakes with little chocolate stars?”

“Yeah! They’re super good!” Your gaze met whiskey-brown, arching a brow at him, and he shrugged lightly, a sad smile on his face. You’d forgotten the times you’d make them for him, all those years ago when the pair of you were just teens, when he’d stay over at your house, still under your parent’s supervision, sleeping on the couch after a study and movie date, eating breakfast with you in the morning and stealing kisses when your parents weren’t looking before the two of you would sit at the table, hiding your smiles and blushing.

“I bet they are, buddy.”

“Then, we open presents together, and this yearn my teacher helped me make one at school! It’s a secret, but I can tell you if you want?” He leaned over the table, all but crawling across it, holding up his hand to cover his mouth as he whispered in Dylan’s ear, the older man laughing a moment later, before turning to look at you and grinning. When your son had settled back into your side, he took only a moment to ponder where he was. “We watch some more movies, and then mommy lets me help her with the cooking, before we have dinner! There’s turkey, and Christmas crackers! They have crowns in, you know. We are going to call grandma and grandpa, too.”

“That sound fun, Noah. The best Christmas ever!”

“What are you doing for Christmas?”

Dylan looked a little taken aback by the question, gaping for a moment, before shrugging, looking a little sheepish. “I’m not doing anything this year. I’m on tour, and I moved to a new house. I don’t have anything.”

“Not even a tree?” Noah seemed utterly distraught just at the idea, his arms crossing over his chest as Dylan confirmed that he didn’t even have a tree, and you felt bad for him, despite how funny it was to see your son’s reactions.

The conversation moved on after that, until your son was slumping in your arm, eyes fluttering a little, the late hour moving on as the conversation began to circle around you and him, more on catching up and finding out where one another’s lives had gone during college and beyond, and there was a lot more of you listening than talking, not having all that much to add to the conversation. You were happy for him, you truly were, and you wouldn't trade in Noah for anything in the world, but it still stung a little to sometimes hear where your life could have gone.

The hand in your own shifted, pulling you to stand up, and he nodded to the boy in your arms who was practically asleep. He walked with you, mumbled conversation to help him sleep, and you didn’t miss, nor loathe, the arm that wrapped around your waist as you stepped out into the cold and now empty parking lot, fingers tracing over your bare skin as they tucked under the edge of your jumper, a shover running along your body as he did.

When you finally reached your car, you took a moment away to tuck him into his car seat, pulling a blanket up for him, and leaving the door open, his head lolling to the side as he snoozed.

“He’s a really cute kid.” You smiled, brushing some hair out of his face, before looking back up to your old flame. “I can’t believe you have a son.”

“We’re all grown up.” You teased, and he dragged his gaze along you, sighing somewhat dismally, before that cheeky cross between a smile and a smirk was back, the same one that had been subtly combined with flirty comments all evening.

“You grew up real nice, though.” You pushed at his arm, rolling his eyes, a laugh you were accustomed to following as you grinned, and he ran his fingers along your arm, taking a hold of your hand. “I missed you, you know. For so long, I wanted to call you so many times, but we agreed to move on, and I thought that was best for you, but I really wish I’d been a part of your life.”

A lump in your throat, one you struggled to try and choke down, burning in your eye signalling tears, and you blinked them away, shrugging slightly. “We were kids, Dylan. We pinned all our hopes on getting into the same colleges, and that didn’t work out. You went your way, and I went mine. We would’ve been holding each other back trying to make a relationship work from opposite ends of the country.”

“I can see that.” He joked, nodding his head toward the car, and you exchanged sad smiles. Awkward silence took over, a feeling you’d never once experienced with Dylan before, and you hated it, feeling as though you were crawling in your skin.

“Will you still be around here at Christmas? I know you’re on tour, but, are you moving on soon?”

“I actually live in the area, I got a house a couple of months ago. I haven’t got my stuff here yet, I’m waiting until I finish tour for that, but I’ll be here.” You were surprised, to say the least, shrugging a little, glancing back at your son once, before deciding you were allowed to have one selfish decision, seeing as you’d given up everything you had for your child.

“Well, no one should be alone on Christmas Day, so, do you want to come over? We have dinner at about three, but you can come at any time.”

“Are you sure about that, sweetheart?” You knew what he was questioning, the trouble not really being your son, but the both of you, the spark of a flame that had never really gone out coming back to bite back at you with flickering flames, and you considered it for only a moment, already knowing what your answer would be.

“I’m certain, I promise. It’ll be fun.” He used his other hand to fish his phone out of his pocket, handing it over to you, and letting you put your number into it. When you gave it back to him, he smiled down at it, biting the inside of his cheek to contain it, and squeezing your hand even tighter.

“Feels a little like déjà vu to be getting your number again.”

“My number never changed.”

“Yeah, but I deleted it one night when drunk, so that I wouldn’t call you and take it all back.” It was a comment that hit deep, and you pursed your lips, eyes cast downwards, but he wasn’t having any of it, tipping your head back up, and frowning at your glossy eyes. “I’ve always hated it when you cry, please don’t. We’re reunited now, and I couldn't be happier, everything works out one way or another, right?”

“I missed you.” Your voice cracked, and he just nodded his head, leaning in a little to press his lips to your cheek. Stubble brushed over your lips, your breath hitching in your throat, and he pulled back, the tip of his nose dragging to meet your own. His breath was fanning over your lips, you could taste the fruity essence still on his tongue, and just as your final inhibitions made to make an exit, you hear the grumble of your son in his sleep, both of you jumping in surprise.

“Mommy, can we go home, now?”

“Yeah, baby, we can.” You promised, closing the car door and stepping away a little to the driver’s seat door, and Dylan let go of you, reluctantly, finding his own keys. “I hope you call, I’d love for you to spend Christmas with us.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart.”

You beamed, getting into your car, watching in the mirrors as he walked away, before finally, you were starting up the car and heading away towards your home, never having been able to guess when you left a few hours ago that this would’ve been the outcome of the evening.

You were watching your son gather up the wrapping paper littered across the floor, dashing round in his new set of pyjamas with the tag still hanging at the neck, and sweeping up all the wrappers of paper. The drumkit was set up in his bedroom, and he had a slight sugar-high on chocolate coins, the smell of turnkey filling the room, and you’d never been happier. This was by far the best Christmas that you’d ever had with your son, a stable job and the prospects of making your way up in the world alongside your little boy, and so you couldn't have been happier.

Holding the mug in one hand, you placed the half-drunk tea down on the table beside you, catching your son as he ran past with a handful of ribbons and scraps, tugging the tag loose from his collarbone, adding it to the pile of waste in his arms that he was about to attempt to cram into the bin.

There was a knock at the door, your eyes flicking up to the clock, widening a little at the time, not realising just how late it had gotten into the afternoon, and you glanced down at yourself, pyjamas still clad on your body. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed, you were a single mother enjoying her day off on her first successful Christmas Day with her boy, and yet, this was the first time you were going to be reunited with the person who you’d thought was left behind all those years ago.

There wasn’t much you could do now, and so you made your way to the front door, swinging it open to greet the man on the other side. He was wearing sweatpants, and a comfy looking hoodie, hood pulled up over his head but a wide smile on his face as she saw you, and you leaned on the door frame, shaking your head as you looked at him.

“You’re in pyjamas.”

He looked down at himself, ties on his dirty Adidas still unlaced and hanging loose, and he shrugged. “Everyone spends Christmas Day in pyjamas.” He bent down a little, picking up the bags he’d put down, a single brow arching as you looked at him. “You always spend Christmas Day in pyjamas, I remember that.”

You could only roll your eyes fondly, heart racing in your chest, and stepping out of the way to let him inside. Noah was quick to race forwards, throwing himself into Dylan’s body with such force that he stumbled a little, a laugh leaving you as you locked the door up once again.

“Hey, buddy, how are you?”

His hands were thrust up in the air, and Dylan huffed for only a moment, before leaning down to drop the bags and scoop the boy up into his arms. It was an adorable scene, watching the way your son’s face lit up with pure joy at having someone else to interact with, a male figure in his life, no matter how brief or fleeting it may be. Noah was chewing his ear off about everything he'd gotten as gifts, and you made your way through to the kitchen to check on the food.

The turkey was almost done, the potatoes were just growing to be perfectly crispy, and you took the tray of sliced vegetables out of the fridge, slipping them onto the bottom tray of the oven to begin roasting. Your coffee was going cold, and so you swapped it out, lifting a glass down from the cabinet and filling it up under the tap.

You dared to venture back out into the apartment, following the voices along the corridor to your son’s room, the door cracked open, and he was spinning on the new chair set up with his drums, little hands smoothing over the surfaces of the sets, and you’d never seen a smile so bright on his face as he spoke to your longtime friend about his new passion for music. Knocking your fingers on the doorframe, both of the men turned to look at you, curious gazes on their faces, wide eyes and smiles, and you almost could’ve been fooled for a second, about whether or not they truly were related.

“Can an amateur join the experts, or are musicians allowed only in here?”

“Well, we have to have an adoring fan, don’t we?” Dylan teased, and you rolled your eyes, remembering a time when he’d called you such a thing while pressing kisses to your face until you laughed, tucking you under his arm while he was all sweaty and learning his own drum kit a decade ago, and now, he was making money from his music and touring for his latest album. “Actually, speaking of that, I have something for you. Why don’t you go grab the bags from the floor in the hall, Noah?”

The child nodded, bolting away from you, and Dylan raised himself up from where he’d been kneeling on the floor, brushing himself down, and standing taller than you once again. “You got him a gift?”

“Got one for you, too. I couldn’t show up with nothing to offer.”

“Well, you were invited, so it really wasn’t any trouble.” The rapid padding of feet caught your attention, floppy hair caught on the breeze of his movements, before he was skidding to a stop in front of you, crashing into your leg in his excitement, and you chuckled slightly. “Maybe we take a little break on the sugar, huh?”

“It’s turkey time, anyway.” He retorted, handing them over to Dylan, and he sorted through them, lifting out a box with a ribbon tied neatly across the front, and giving it back to the boy. It only took him seconds to tear the ribbon and the wrapping from the gift, before he was tipping it upside down to shake the contents free, paper fluttering to the ground around them as a set of small sticks fell out across the floor. “They’re drumsticks, mommy!”

With one in each hand, he was waving them at you excitedly, the polished wood being far more high-quality than the simple ones that the kit had come with, the set provided making you worry he may get splinters but these were glossed and smooth shining a little, and as he turned them in his hands, he found his name carved into the wood at the base of each handle.

“They have my name in! N-O-A-H! See!” He was thrilled, holding them upside down as he showed them off, and you turned to look at Dylan when the young boy dashed over to pound at his drums with no rhythm or tune whatsoever.

“That might be the sweetest gift that anyone has ever given him. Thank you. How the hell did you manage to pull that off in time for Christmas?”

He tapped at the side of his nose, a smirk on his lips as he kept his secrets, and you suspected that it had something to do with his fame, pulling the card on his name and status just to get it done in time. “I have something for you, too.”

“I don’t need anything, Dyl.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.” He pressed the remaining bag into your arms, and you chuckled, peering into the wine bag first, and grinning at the contents that it held. It was the same bottle of wine that his mother and father used to drink, the same brand that you’d always steal half a glass from each when you tried to have romantic dates in at his house, still too young to drink when you’d been together. “Will you open it, already? I’m kinda’ nervous about how you’re going to react.”

He let out an anxious laugh, holding the wine for you as you fixed him with a questioning gaze, before opening it up. It was large and flat, wrapped neatly in a glittery Christmas gift-paper, and you ran your thumb under the seal, wincing a little bit at a loud crashing of the cymbals from your son. Pulling out the gift, you revealed a sleek black photo frame, a picture of the night sky, marking off a certain star, with a name and a dedication, and some facts about it written underneath, your breath catching in your throat.

It was new, but was just like the one you’d been given so long ago, when you’d had no money and had to buy one another simple gifts, and Dylan had named a star for you and gifted it to you for Valentine's Day, a tribute to the midnight picnic he’d taken you on for one of your first dates.

“Dylan..”

“Do you like it? Because you’ve never really been one for materialistic gifts, and I know how much you liked the first one.” He was rambling, an adorable trait you were happy to see that he'd retained into his adulthood, and you cut him off by lacing your fingers with his own. He went silent, gaze dropping down to your connected hands, before he was looking back up to you, lips forming a sweet smile as he stared at you. Dragging him along behind yourself, he was more than happy to follow, away from the noise your son was making with his new hobby, and opening the door to the room at the end of the hall.

He stepped inside, eyes sweeping over the simple furniture and decorations, before landing on the wall near where you stood, a look you couldn't quite decipher crossing over his features. The original gift, hanging in place on your wall, still in its frame, the paint dull and chipping off, but a perfect match to the new one you’d been given, and he let out a sudden and ragged breath.

“You still have it.”

“Of course, I do.”

He swallowed thickly, gaze flickering over to the image on the wall, for just a moment, before he was turning glossy eyes back to you. Settling a hand on your jaw, his thumb brushed over your cheek in a way that brought all kinds of old feelings rushing back, your eyes closing as your face tipped into his hand. Rough and calloused palm, something you were used to, and you let out a weak laugh. “I have missed you so much.”

“I missed you t-”

“Dylan! Will you teach me a song?” The sharp voice made your eyes snap open, your head snapping back up as heat crawled at your cheeks, your son standing in the doorway and staring up at your both innocently, no idea about the tension between you, and his hand fell from your face, dancing along your arm before taking your hand in his, and squeezing lightly.

“You’ll have to ask your mom, do we have enough time before dinner?”

“Do we, mommy? Please?”

They absolutely didn’t, but with the way he was staring up at you, there wasn’t a chance you could say no, and so you nodded your head, watching as the love before you were stolen away by your cheering son, dragged down the corridor by his hand. He was clearly craving time with another man, just wanting that kind of influence, someone to share his music with, and there was only so much you could do for him before he started craving other people’s company, and you were just glad you’d run into someone from your past who you wanted to welcome, the only person you wanted to welcome.

It wasn’t how you’d expected to have a child, not the way you’d always imagined it would be, and certainly not who you thought it’d be with, but the man in there right not, teaching your son a song from his band as somewhat reasonable music flowed through the home you’d built, was exactly who you’d always pictured it all with, a bittersweet feeling settling over you. Not only were you picking back up emotions you thought you’d left behind, but your son was growing a rapid attachment to him, and you didn’t want to have to break it to him one day when Dylan went back on tour, or settled down with someone else, and break your son’s heart, as well as your own.

You gave them their space, letting Noah soak up all the guy-time that he was going to get, and you lifted the turkey out onto the top of the oven to rest. Everything else followed, the meal falling together as it was all placed into dishes and jugs, plates and cutlery being laid out around the table, drinks following, a plastic cup in your son's place, and an elegant glass in the adult seats.

The table was filled, and you took your time, making sure it was all perfect, even placing a Christmas cracker on top of the plates. Carrying the turkey through, the table was complete, and you swept up your phone, heading through to call the boys to dinner. The sight that met you wasn’t much further from what you were expecting, but picturing it in your mind and actually having it happen were two completely different things. Dylan was sitting on the stool, Noah on his lap, larger hands wrapped around smaller ones as your son all but screamed with joy every time he was directed into the right places, hitting the drums with force as he learned, guided in his movements.

Bringing up your camera, you switched to filming, catching the two of them on camera as Dylan sang the lyrics to the song lowly, practically mumbling them in tune with the beats of the drums, pausing and dragging them out when the rhythm stumbled, but he paused when he caught sight of you in the doorway. Your son looked up only a second later, the anger at having been interrupted melting away, and he dropped the sticks down.

“Dinner time. Come get it before it goes cold.”

Your son raced ahead, Dylan picking up the drum sticks and placing them on the kit carefully, before following after you, a slight jog to his steps audible as he caught up, a hand placed on your lower back as you walked alongside one another. Noah was already in his seat, sipping at his juice as he stared longingly at the food, imploring the two of you silently to hurry up, because he was desperate for his favourite meal of the year.

You had placed him at the head of the table, with you and Dylan on either side, and he was patting the tabletop gently with his hands, busying himself, but you knew that look. If you were any slower, he would reach out and just start pulling bits off of the bird with his bare hands, ruining the meal entirely.

You started with your son, cutting him off an appropriate portion on the meat and placing it down onto his plate, before letting him fill it up with vegetables, potatoes, and all the extras, as much as he wanted. Dylan was next, mumbling his thanks into your ear as you leaned over him, placing it down on his plate, and then, he was joining your son with filling up his plate. You followed suit, before the chatter was taking over at the table.

Noah wanted to snap the crackers as soon as possible, placing a paper crown on your head as soon as he could, and giggling hysterically at the jokes as they were read out, before reading off a list of other Christmas jokes that he seemed to have somehow memorised. You guessed that they were from school, but you weren’t confident.

He also recounted some of his favourite stories to Dylan, ones you had already heard but were more than happy to listen to again; his first day at school, getting to know his classmates, going to his friend Harry’s fifth birthday party, and how excited he was himself to turn five in a few months. In turn, Dylan told him all about what it was like to go on tour, to be a rockstar and get to travel all over the world.

Pictures followed, and these you were intrigued in, listening to him share about how he was living his dream, all the places and experiences he'd seen and taken part in, and you were happy for him, you truly were, seeing that he had gotten everything he’d ever wanted out of life. There was a time, late nights that could almost be termed early mornings, when you’d be lying with his arm around you, head on his shoulder, staring up at the ceiling in a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt, talking about your hopes and dreams, and while you were yet to achieve your’s he was already living his.

You were no longer still in touch with that many people from your past, having been too embarrassed when you first became pregnant and got left behind to face any of them, and then having been too busy in the first few years as you tried to keep yourself and your son afloat, and now, you were simply too proud. Perhaps they had jobs and a career, but they were mostly still the arrogant youths you’d known in high school or college, but none of them had created a life, none of them were parents yet, or at least as far as you’d known when losing touch with them, but you loved who you were now.

Your son loved him, he never stopped talking, and somehow, Dylan managed to keep up with it. The subject seemed to change with every other sentence, and even your head was spinning, but Dylan never fell behind, skipping between topics and always having an answer to Noah’s questions or statements, keeping the conversation jovial and jolly, all throughout the evening.

Dessert came rocking around, and you were simply left watching, cheeks aching from your smile as you watched the two interact, never having felt more content than you did right now. All little girls dreamed of their futures, of what their wedding would be like, who they’d fall in love with, their house and their kids, and maybe you did things a little out of order, maybe there was a wedding to come one day down the line and you already had the kid, maybe it would be a while before you could afford that dream house, but you knew you’d get there someday.

You began to clear away when the boys made their way through to the living room to check out the rest of their gifts, and to play with all of the little trinkets that had fallen out of the crackers. There was still over half of a box left, and you could hear the distinct popping sounds each time they tore open a new one, only to crack up laughing about the jokes - even if Dylan’s was a little forced, just to match Noah’s - and the pile of toys they must be building.

When they finally appeared in the doorway, it was with multiple hats on each of their heads, Dylan lifting your son up in his arms so that he could place some more onto your head, the paper spilling down into your eyes, before you were able to lift it up. The boys were smiling at you, your son perched on Dylan’s hip, staring at you expectantly, matching grins that weren’t quite the same but were just as cheeky, and you raised your brows.

“What are you boys up to?”

“We made a house of cards from the mini packet in the crackers!” Noah offered, and you beamed, turning off the taps as hot and soapy water filled the basin. “But then it fell down, so we opened the other crackers.”

“Did you tidy up all the rubbish?”

Both of their faces paled a little and it was your turn to smirk, before Noah was wriggling to be set down, and going to tidy up, as he was supposed to. Being left alone, even for just a second, Dylan was stepping a little closer to you, hands on your hips, as he leaned over you to leave a chaste and sweet kiss pressed to your cheek.

“Thank you for dinner. It was lovely.” His breath fanned over your skin as he whispered the words, before he was dipping his head to press a kiss to your shoulder, a moment far too intimate and domestic for you to be able to handle as you thought about the upcoming point of the evening when you’d have to let him go, and so you simply hummed, offering a smile in return, before nodding your head toward the towel on the counter.

“I’ll wash, you dry?”

He grinned, taking up on the offer, and snatching up the material to work alongside you, cleaning away the mountain of dishes that had been created. Once Noah had finished tidying away the rubbish and put away all of his new toys in his room, he was coming in to sit at the table, fixing the stereo to play his favourite Christmas songs, and even helping to put away the dishes that he could reach in the lower cabinets.

As the end of the night closed in, you could hear him resisting his yawns, his singing fading out, before he was crossing his little arms over the table and resting his cheek on top of them, choosing to hum along sleepily as day turned to night. When the cleaning was finally one, the day coming in towards an end, you scooped him up, letting him curl into your body as his face pressed into your neck, clinging to you loosely.

He was exhausted, and he’d been up all day, the sugar high and the thrill of the day washing away, and tomorrow he’d be just as excited to wake up and eat leftovers while getting to know his toys, not having had a chance to fully appreciate them yet, but he would indulge himself in them all over the next few days. The Christmas tree was still sparkling, the room cast over with colourful shadows from the crazy decorations you’d put up, the darkness pouring in from outside, and you turned to face Dylan.

“I’m going to put him to bed, can you turn on some lamps, and such?”

Dylan only nodded, but your son perked up as he heard about his upcoming bedtime, rubbing at his eyes and blinking to try and clear his haze.

“G’night, Dylan.” He was cut off with a yawn once again, and Dylan grinned, stepping forwards and tipping the boy’s head down, pressing a kiss to his hair, before tapping him on the tip of his nose.

“Goodnight, Noah. Thank you for leaning one of my songs, maybe you’ll even replace me one day.”

“We can make our own band.” He whispered in return, reaching out to loop his arms around the man’s neck, and the two shared a touching hug, before you were carrying him away towards the bathroom. Sitting him down on his seat, you helped him to brush his teeth, grinning at the slight mess that he made, before he was holding your hand with every step he took to his bed.

You tucked him in, and flicked out the lights, and made sure the door was pulled shut tightly behind yourself, before tiptoeing along towards the main room, now illuminated with the warm glow of lamplight. Dylan was sitting on the couch, the bottle of wine that he had brought sitting there too, with two glasses empty but prepared, and he turned to look at you as he heard you reenter the room.

“Hey.”

His voice was a little lower as he tried to keep his voice down, an act you so deeply appreciated, and you settled down onto the couch next to him, body twisted to the side and head supported on the hand propped up on the edge of the couch.

“I got glasses for wine, I was thinking we could share it, but if you’re ready to go to bed, I can just head out.” He stuck his hand over his shoulder, thumb jutted toward the door, searching your eyes for your answer, and brightening up a little when he saw you shake your head.

“I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

“Good, because I really didn’t want to leave.” You watched as he leaned away, popping the cork on the bottle and pouting you both a glass, before bringing it back and handing it to you, sitting a little closer than he had been before the drinks, the glasses clinking softly between you both, before you took a sip, and he matched you. It wasn’t the best wine in the world, much better when you were young and naïve and didn’t know any better, but then again, you were sure his mother kept bad wine around in an attempt to deter you both from drinking it, because it always had been a little too easy to steal some of. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure thing, Dyl.”

“When you went to college, did you have fun? I hope you did. You had such a long bucket list of college experiences, and I really hope you checked them all off.” It wasn’t what you were expecting, there was always a usual list of questions that came up when you bumped into someone from your past when you were with your son, polite attempts that were backhanded compliments and questions about what went wrong in your life, even though you only ever saw it as something having gone right.

“I did. I made some friends, met some new people, and had some amazing experiences.”

He smiled, lifting a hand to tuck some hair out of your face, a finger running over your cheekbone, and taking another sip of his wine. He encouraged you to go on, listening to you talk about everything that had happened from the moment you’d parted, all up to and including having your son, to the moment you had once again reunited.

It was a little deeper than the conversations you’d had before, the dwindling bottle of wine accompanying the conversation, slowly shuffling closer and closer to each other, hands wandering and gazes sweeping over one another as you tried to rediscover old flickers of heat and interest, wondering if they were still present, and whether anything would come of them.

He told you the real story of his music, tears welling up in eyes and a slightly painful laugh as he revealed that half of the songs on his first album were written about you, heartbroken and mourning for you, wiping your tears away as you cleared his, before moving on to tell you about his first tour, and this third one, that was now coming to an end.

He’d seen all of the world, and you’d seen none of it, but you had more life experience and dependency than he did, the only person who relied on home as himself, and his manager took care of most things of him, whereas you were fighting it all on your own, and taking your child along with you. Where you had once been exactly the same, two peas in a pod, and now you were entirely different, but your hearts still beat the same. You were grounded and secure, he was flying high and moving with the wind, but every so often, when he came down to land, you’d be here.

Your legs were slung over his lap, he was playing with your hair as you held onto your almost empty glass, the bottle at the bottom, and a buzz running through your system that you hadn't felt in over a year, eyes fluttering slightly with the haze that was settling across your mind.

“I can’t believe you have a son who isn’t mine.” He whispered, your eyes snapping open and heart leaping into your throat, and he shook his head, intoxication delaying his realisation of what he’d just said. “I didn’t mean it like that. God, your kid is incredible, he’s the best, but I always just imagined it would be you and me.”

“I know, that’s how I thought it would be.”

He smiled, shoulders slumping, relieved that he didn’t need to explain himself further, that he hadn't fucked up, but you’d always been able to read just what was on his mind, with only a simple glance, because you knew him so well. “How did you end up alone? Which guy would be crazy enough to leave you, and a kid as wonderful as Noah? I don't get it. Why doesn’t he have someone to love him the way a dad should?”

You choked down the lump in your throat, shrugging slightly, and avoiding his gaze in favour of scratching at the skin around your nails. He nudged your chin up, a finger under your chin, a look in his eyes that said he didn’t want you to feel pressured, but he also didn’t want you to feel scared to talk to him, and you sighed. “I had a fling in college, but he wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. I was going to give Noah up, but when I had him, I was all alone, and then I wasn’t. I was in the hospital, and I heard him crying, and he needed me. He was reaching for me, and then I needed him. He was someone who would never leave me. Or, at least, not until I was ready to let him go.”

It was silent for a few moments after that, and while the memory may have seemed painful, it was one of your fondest moments with your son. You could still remember the way it had clicked in your chest, the moment that everything had slipped into perspective and made it impossible for you to ever give him up.

The name was something you’d worried over, days choosing one as you held him in your arms in the hospital, and you’d entered with the intention to leave alone, and instead, you’d been holding your life in your arms, snoozing in a little pair of cotton socks.

“I never wanted to leave you, y’know.”

“I know, Dylan.” It was your turn to reach out to him, cupping his cheek, and he closed a hand over your own, twisting his head to kiss your palm.

“I never wanted to go, and I think about you all the time.” A wet streak was left along his skin as a tear fell from his eye, and he cleared his throat, a shaky laugh leaving him. “I was so sure I was going to marry you, then all our colleges together denied either one of us, and we ended up on opposite sides of the country. I hated it. I wanted to drop out, just to follow you wherever you went, but my parents wouldn't let me, and I knew you wouldn’t let me either.”

“You’re right, I would’ve kicked your ass if you’d given it up. Look at where you are now.” You smiled, tears lining your own eyes.

“I still think I’d rather have given it all up, just to be with you. To have an apartment with you, and a son with you.”

He watched you for a moment longer, watching the awestricken look on your face, and you couldn't take it anymore, the magnet in your heart that was pulling you back towards him was too strong to resist anymore, and you met him halfway, the gap closing between you both. Lips met, a collision of desperate need and passion, tangling together as your hand tangled in his hair, feeling his other slip to your hip and pull you closer until wine glasses were almost crushed between your bodies and the breath was forced from your lungs.

It felt like coming home, like something that had been missing from your life for so long was finally returning, your heart racing in your chest and yet somehow feeling like you were the calmest you had ever been. Every drag of his mouth over your own, traces of tongues and teasings of more, the same way you’d always been, fire curling in your veins, raspy and desperate breaths until your mind was spinning from the lack of oxygen, and you were pulling away.

He couldn't stay away, leaning in to kiss you again as soon as he’d caught his breath, taking both of the glasses and putting them down so that he could place both hands on your face, pulling you in and holding you to him as something between laughter and tears left you both. You knew he felt the same, you could tell from the urgency of his kisses as wet cheeks slid together, the salty taste slipping into your mouth from tears, and you were forced to pull back.

“I’ve been thinking about that ever since the last time I got to kiss you, sitting in that little coffee shop as you kissed me goodbye after our breakup.”

“Well, I hope that it was everything you wanted it to be, and that today was, too. I hope seeing me once again wasn’t too much of a disappointment. I’m sure it wasn’t what you had planned when you inevitably bumped into me again.” You wiped your hands at your face, delicate skin stinging slightly, and he did the same.

“Why does that feel like you’re saying goodbye again?”

“Because I am.” You whispered, a broken look flashing over his face, one you were painfully familiar with from once before, your heart cracking in your chest at the sight. “I’m only going to end up hurt again when you leave.”

“But, I don’t want to leave.” His tone was pleading, and he shushed you playfully when you opened your mouth to respond to him, taking your hand in his as he shook his head. “I just want to finish this tour, I have three stops left, and then I’m home. I moved here, it’s home now, and I think it’s fate that you’re here too, and that we ran into each other. You’re meant to be with me, meant to be in my life, and you know it, too.”

“You can’t give it all up.”

“I would give up everything I have for you. I missed that opportunity once, don’t make me miss it again.” He was all but begging you, tugging you even closer to him, until you were sharing a breath, his forehead pressed to yours. “I want you, and your son, and I want us to be a family. Don’t walk away from me again, because I’m not letting you go without a fight this time.”

A fresh wave of tears washed over you, and you covered your face, shaking your head in disbelief. “Is that really what you want?”

“More than anything. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, and Noah may not be mine, but I’ll love him like he is, I promise. And, when we do have kids of our own, I’ll love him just as much then, too.” Your sobs had to be muffled by your hand, but Dylan was crying silently, watching you as he tried to decipher what was going on inside your head. “Let me love you, let me love us as a family?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?” He repeated, seeming as though he was filled with utter disbelief, and you grinned, nodding your head and taking his face in your hands, pulling his lips to yours. It was soft and sweet, and everything it was supposed to be, as the love of your life was returned to your arms, hopefully, never to leave again. “I love you, so much, it fucking hurts not to be with you. Ever since we broke up, and now, I feel whole again. I’ve been in love with you for over ten years, and being away from you never changed that.”

“I love you too.” You stood, tugging on his hands, to pull him up, and he followed after you wordlessly, watching as you switched out the lights, checked the front door was locked, and let him trail after you toward your bedroom. He didn’t question it as you sunk down into the bed, dragging him with you until he could settle himself under the covers beside you, or when you placed your head on his chest, because everything was as it was supposed to be.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly, safe and secure, like he’d never let you go again, a silent promise that he wouldn't. You trusted him, you believed him, and in the morning, when Noah woke you up and asked for pancakes again, he didn’t even bat an eye at the sight of a snoozing Dylan still tucked into the bed, just choosing to crawl up and settle down beside you, because even if he wasn’t his father, he knew just as much as you did that Dylan was destined to be his dad.

When he had whispered into your ear that his final wish to Santa was for someone to play his drums with and for mommy to be happy, you thought that maybe Christmas wishes did come true.

#dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien fic #12 Days of AUmas

[tulipjeanohare]

Untitled

PAIRING: EZ Reyes x OC (Sloane)

NOTES: I wrote this during Season 2 and just never shared it but I’ve been wanting to get back into writing. SO, I hope you guys enjoy and I’d love feedback!

WARNING: Mature Themes.

Credit to the person who made the gif @shadesalvarez

WORD COUNT: 6, 370

It was another typical Friday night at the bar; the place was packed wall to wall, a new band was perched on the stage performing a set list of songs she’d never remember, and the regular unfavorable drunks were crowding the bar top. Just another weekend wasted working behind the bar when she’d much rather be somewhere else doing just about anything other than this. The bar wasn’t that bad, really. But it wasn’t what she wanted. It paid the bills and that was all that mattered to her as a single mother.

There was never time for men and she was fine with that. Her son didn’t need any other men dropping in and out of his life. That much she were sure of. So she lived the monotonous life that she had grown accustomed to the last few years. During the week she worked at a local art museum in an attempt to keep her passion for art alive while she couldn’t afford to actually make any then the weekend came and she spent her nights slinging drinks for every lowlife that decided to slither into the dimly lit hole in the wall bar off the highway.

It wasn’t as bad as it seemed, she had regulars that she loved seeing and for the most part everyone kept their hands to themselves and tipped rather well. The whole single mother thing did work to her advantage from time to time. But every now and then some idiot would come in trying to impress whatever frat friends he had drug along with him and made a pass at her. She could normally handle herself pretty well but when they got too aggressive she defaulted to the gruff, muscular man they’d hired to work security.

Tonight was no exception to any of this.

Earlier in the evening she had dropped her son off at her friend’s house and gave him an extra long hug. Promised him she’d see him bright and early in the morning and she was off. It never got any easier to leave him; he was four now and was the smartest kid she’d ever met, she might be a little biased but it was true. Those big brown eyes of his melted her heart every time he gave her the same sad puppy dog face before she left. She knew he was fine there. He loved her friend, she was like family to the both of them. But she still hated to leave him to go deal with a bunch of overly macho men for hours on end.

By the time she got to the bar the place was already crowded and the band had already started to play. As quickly as she could she made her way behind the bar and dumped her bag and jacket in the backroom before making her way to her first customer of the night.

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

EZ had taken off from the clubhouse almost two hours ago without a plan in his mind of exactly where he was going. All he knew was that he needed some space. He needed to forget the life he’d chosen for just a few hours and pretend he wasn’t the man he’d become. The loud engine of the motorcycle roared in his ears as he passed a big black sign reading ‘Big Al’s Roadside Bar, Next Exit’.

That’ll have to do, he thought to himself.

When he pulled into the gravel lot in front of the building there wasn’t a single motorcycle in sight and he felt a weight lift from his shoulders he didn’t know had been there. Before he headed inside he took off the leather cut with his name stitched on one side and shoved it into the bag on the side of his bike. There was no reason for anyone here to know who he was or that he ran with any club.

His watch read half past eleven when he entered the door. Enough time for him to have a couple drinks and maybe make his way to that motel he'd noticed just up the road. The place was loud and the people were crowded inside like a can of sardines so he figured his best bet would be to make himself at home up at the bar, hide himself in the corner there and get a little drunk.

Once he reached the bar though he was a little more than surprised to see such a beautiful woman behind it. All the bars in Santo Padre either had weathered old ladies behind them or former inmates he’d probably seen in passing during his time inside. The woman behind this bar was far more beautiful than anyone he’d seen back home in a long time. She had thick mess of black hair that fell well past her shoulders, he watched as she pulled it back into a bun at the nape of her neck.

She looked real. Not like the girls who hung around the clubhouse in hopes of becoming someone’s old lady. Her face was bare except for the gloss that created a sheen on her plump lips. Lips he’d pay good money to kiss. The black jeans she had on hugged her every curve so tightly he couldn’t help but stare when she turned to hand another bar patron their drink. The T-shirt she wore had the Virgin Mary printed on the front, exactly like the statue that sat inside the clubhouse in Santo Padre, but he was sure if wasnt some funny pun for her because he’d noticed the delicate cross necklace hanging around her neck. One arm had a smattering of tattoos he couldn’t quite make out while the other seemed bare.

It hadn’t occurred to him that he’d been staring at her until she turned to him, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face before leaning her palms against the bar top, “you wanna order something or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“Shit, sorry,” he quickly answered.

A laugh fell from her lips, a laugh that rang over the music. It was sweet and soft, no malice behind it. It made EZ’s shoulders relax a little. “S’ok...not the worst anyone has ever done in this bar. Long day?”

“You could say that,” EZ replied.

Without a word she nodded, reached under the bar for a cold beer and popped the top off before sliding it across the table to him. “Nothing an ice cold beer can’t help, right?”

“Amen,” he smiled, reaching in his pocket for some cash.

Before taking it the bartender eyed it for a second, “you wanna just open a tab?”

“Nah, I’ll take it one beer at a time,” he assured her.

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

The rest of the night went off as usual; the same guys sidled up to the bar to grab her attention for a few quick moments before another pushed his way up to her. But there was one thing that was different tonight. The guy at the end of the bar.

He wasn’t like the others. His eyes were kind and he spoke with more eloquence than any man she’d met in her entire life had. He was polite and quiet, a god send on a night like tonight. So she spent a little more time at his end of the bar than any other. Any time he would finish a beer she was sure to be right there with a fresh one and he would hand her another handful of bills.

One beer at a time.

Things were beginning to quiet down at one when it happened.

She was wiping down the bar top at the other end of the bar when a new guy took a seat. He leaned over a little too close for comfort when she asked him what he wanted. Then when she handed him the class of brown liquor he’d asked for he grabbed her hand in his, which she quickly shook herself free of.

EZ took notice of the interaction. He’d been nursing another beer, trying to decide if it was time for him to head to that motel when he saw the guy grab hold of her hand. He felt himself begin to react before she shook her arm free, scowling at the guy before walking back down towards him.

“You alright,” he asked, his voice low so only she could hear.

A smile crept across her lips as she nodded, letting her elbows rest on the wood top while she leaned over it. “I get five of those guys a night...that’s nothing. I appreciate your concern though...I never got your name.”

“EZ,” he smiled, those pearly white teeth of his on full display.

Standing there across the bar from him, a mere few inches from him, she felt like her heart skipped a beat. There’s got to be a catch here, she thought to herself. “EZ? Interesting,” she smiled, holding her hand out for him. “I’m Sloane, nice to officially meet you.”

When he took her hand in his she could feel the slight blush creeping up her cheeks. She hoped to god he couldn’t see it in the dim lighting in the bar. But the rough, calloused feeling of his palm against hers felt nice. A sign of a real man.

And EZ got a rush of electricity through him as he held her hand in his. He could smell her perfume wafting in front of him when she leaned in closer to him. It was like a field of fresh flowers on a breezy day. “That’s a nice name, it suits you,” EZ said softly.

Before either of them could say anything else someone at the other end of the bar was shouting for her. Quickly she gave him an apologetic look before making her way to the person.

Once again EZ was tempted to watch her; the way she moved was so easy, like she was doing a dance every time she’d spin around to grab a bottle of liquor or reach one way or the other for a glass. The same piece of hair kept falling in her face until she finally pulled the hair tie from her hair and let it fall at her shoulders. Somehow it made her even more beautiful to him. The dark mess of hair she’d had pulled back before now framed her face. Every now and then she’d tuck a piece behind her ear before it fell again.

The way he was feeling towards this new stranger in front of him was different. It had been a long time since he’d felt any sort of way about a woman. His mind had been stuck on one in particular and it was becoming more and more evident that nothing was ever going to happen with them again.

She wasn’t Emily but deep down he felt like she might be better than Emily.

Just as he was getting lost in his thoughts he noticed the same guy from before giving her a hard time. But this time he had a hold of her forearm, hard enough that her skin was white where his hand held to her. He gave her a few seconds, waiting for her to pull free of him again or for the bouncer to jump in but nothing like that happened. The guy kept holding onto her and she was getting more and more agitated as the interaction went on.

“Let go of me right now,” she all but shouted at the guy.

He rolled his eyes, leaning in closer to her, “oh come on, stop playing hard to get and just let me take you home.”

Before she was able to get another word out EZ had his hand on the guys arm and was almost chest to chest with him. “Let her go before I make you,” he said, his already deep voice seeming to drop another octave.

Now it was a tangle of arms in the middle of them. EZ holding tightly to his while the guy still kept his hold on Sloane. And the next thing she knew the drunk guy was headbutting EZ and lunging towards him. With her arm now free her eyes darted around the room in search of her back up, the guy that was generally posted up at the end of the bar to keep his eye on her was nowhere to be found. All she could do now was hope it didn’t get too out of hand.

EZ took a quick swing at the guy and landed his fist right on his chin, knocking the guy back a couple steps. But that didn’t stop him from going at her new friend again; swinging with all his might in hopes of landing something. It was clear to Sloane that this wasn’t EZ’s first fight, he knew what he was doing but the other guy was way in over his head with too much testosterone and alcohol running through him to tell him to stop while he was ahead.

A few more punches had the guys lip bleeding and his already wobbly footing worse. By that time the bouncer had made his way back to the bar and quickly grabbed hold of the swinging drunk and started to cart him out of the bar. He turned to yell at the other man that he’d be back for him but she stopped him, “let him be, he was just stepping in to stop that guy. He’s fine.”

The bouncer glanced from his bartender then to the muscular man standing just a few feet from him, not a single bead of sweat on him. All he could do was nod and continue kicking the other man out of the place.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” Sloane shook her head, trying to conceal the smile attempting to break across her face.

As much as she hated having anyone thinking they needed to defend her honor she had to admit that it was really hot seeing him land that punch. And his body hadn’t looked bad doing so either.

She pulled another bottle of beer from the ice and handed it to him, “this one's on me, as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to,” he started.

Shaking her head she pushed the money he’d started to hand to her back his way, “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

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

The band had long since vacated the stage and people were filing out of the bar by the time EZ had decided it was time to leave. Sloane had been a breath of fresh air for him and he didn’t want to have to head out any sooner than he had to. But he figured she wanted to get the place cleaned and clock out so he’d dropped some cash on the bar top for a tip and started for the door. But soon he heard her familiar voice call out to him.

“Hey,” she shouted, her voice carrying over the soft music playing from above. “How do you feel about a couple drinks...back at my place?”

EZ wasn’t sure he heard her right. Sure, she’d given him a little more attention than any of the other bar goers tonight but he hadn’t even for a second thought she’d ask him back to her place. The room felt a lot quieter as he stumbled with his words, completely caught off guard. “Uh, yeah, yeah...that actually sounds great.”

“Give me ten minutes,” she replied before bouncing off to wipe down the tables scattered around.

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

The two of them fell into an easy rhythm on the drive to Sloane’s place, both of them eager to hear the other’s voice no matter what they were saying. Every now and then she’d catch his gaze lingering a little longer than he’d intended for her to see and it gave her those familiar butterflies from earlier in the night. She was having an internal battle with herself though; this is so stupid...what do you thinks going to come of this, she’d hear the voice in her head ask. But she didn’t care. It had been years since she’d had any kind of relationship with a man, one night would be good for her.

So, a fifteen minute drive later and they were pulling up to the front of her apartment building and he was following her closely up the stairs. To be fair he wanted to press her up against her door the minute they hit it but he restrained himself, he wanted to let the night last as long as possible. He was enjoying himself. Enjoying not thinking about his life back home.

“Place might be a little messy,” she told him, kicking her shoes to the side as soon as she stepped inside with EZ following suit.

While she busied herself in the kitchen searching for the liquor EZ wandered around the living room, taking everything in. The place was immaculate except for a few toys strewn about on the floor; a small blue blanket with cars all over it tossed over the side of the couch hastily, a tiny plastic easel in the corner with a freshly done finger painting clipped to it. Next to it was a larger one with the beginnings of an incredible, vibrantly colored painting.

“You have a son,” he asked, his voice carrying to Sloane in the kitchen as she grabbed a couple glasses.

Biting her lip she nodded, placing the glasses on the coffee table in front of the couch before making eye contact with him. “Yeah, he’s the one guy in my life,” she beamed. “Just turned four last month, he stays with my best friend while I work at the bar on the weekend. Is it weird?”

“Nah, I love kids,” EZ smiled. “Dad in the picture?”

Sloane shook her head, pouring some of the brown liquor into the glasses. “No, it’s probably for the best anyways. We make a pretty good little duo. What about you?”

“Just me,” he said, wincing a little as the hard liquor stung the back of his throat. “Pretty close with my pops...and my brother.”

It was tempting for her to question the little pause he made before he mentioned his brother but she didn’t think it was any of her business having only just met him a few hours ago. She felt so at ease with him though she almost asked, it was on the tip of her tongue to say something but she held back. The smile that lingered at the corner of his lips told her there was good there.

The two of them sat side by side on the floor in front of the couch; the coffee table pushed out a little to give them more room, their bodies turned towards each other so they could talk, the brown liquor getting less and less in the bottle. There had been a handful of moments where EZ had wanted make a move. To rest his hand on her thigh or tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear before leaning in for a kiss. But he wanted to hear more about her and her life and everything about her.

He was enthralled.

And so was she.

She could see the kindness in his eyes. Past the bruise under his left eye and the cut on his cheek there was more to him. When they had left the bar she’d noticed the motorcycle and wanted to ask him about it but she decided not to. There was probably something there she wouldn’t like and tonight she just wanted to have fun. Every time he made even the slightest move the veins in his forearms shifted just the slightest bit and it made her think of how it would feel to have those arms wrapped around her body. Then he’d speak and she was enticed by the deepness to his voice, the diction in the wash he spoke was nothing like she’d heard around there before. The guys there wouldn’t know how to string an intelligible sentence together if their lives depended on it.

EZ was different.

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

Sloane rested her head on the chest of the new man in her bed. One arm of his slung around her waist while his hand gently stroked her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. She let her hand rest on his abdomen before she let her fingers trace lines down the center of his stomach. He was all muscle and she could feel it while he was on top of her, the way his body weighted over her as they moved in rhythm together.

The room was silent except for the heaviness of their breathing. EZ felt chills run up his spine the way she tucked her leg over his bare thigh while they laid there. Her soft skin felt like silk against his and he wanted to stay like this for as long as possible. If he closed his eyes long enough he could still see her silhouette above him in the dark room. He could envision the way her hips moved back and forth as she rode him. His fingers holding tightly to her hips until he finally pulled her down close to him so he could nip and kiss at her skin.

For a second he leaned down and pressed a kiss into the crown of her hair, a simple gesture that spoke volumes, before he spoke. “Ezekial,” he said quietly.

“Huh,” she questioned, turning so she could rest her chin on his chest.

The outline of his face just visible in the moonlight pouring in through the closed blinds. “That’s my name. My full name. Ezekial.”

“I like that,” a smile spread across her face and she wasn’t sure why. She turned her face to nuzzle her nose against his bare shoulder before peppering his skin with a few quick kisses. “Ezekial.”

EZ loved the way his name sounded coming off her lips. The raspiness in her voice and the way he could almost hear her smile as she said it. He’d heard it countless times before but it felt special when she said it.

After a few more silent minutes she got up to use the bathroom and he leaned over to grab his boxers, sliding them on before he turned the bedside lamp on. The bathroom door was left open a crack and he could just barely see her naked frame moving in front of the mirror before she pulled his shirt on over her head. His eyes wandered down her body as she walked back into the bedroom, the shirt of his clinging to her curves and just stopping below her ass.

“You’re incredible,” he grinned, reaching his hand out to her as she moved to the side of the bed.

She couldn’t help but smile back at him. Not because of the compliment but because of the way his face lit up as he said it. The laugh lines next to his eyes crinkled as his smile widened and it made his deep brown eyes even more endearing than they already were.

Thoughtlessly she let him take her hand in his and pull her down onto him on the bed. Her legs rested on either side of him as he let her sit in his lap, his hands resting at the small of her back. If he had it his way this night wouldn’t ever end. He hadn’t thought about the club or his brother or Emily all night and it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“Where’d they make you,” she asked with a hint of a laugh in her voice. “You’re...different. Good different.”

He didn’t answer her with words. He simply just wrapped his arms tighter around her and pulled her into his chest before he pressed his lips against hers once more. There wasn’t any hesitation there; her lips parted to allow his tongue to slide across her bottom lip before they let themselves get lost in the kiss. Sloane’s mind wandered back to earlier in the night after they’d finished their whiskey and their bodies had somehow moved closer and closer to one another where they sat. She could see his eyes move to her lips every now and then while they talked and she wanted to beg him to kiss her about a hundred times before he actually did.

And once he finally did they were quickly moving to the bedroom. Her bedroom she hadn’t shared with anyone but her son in a very, very long time. They’d stumbled down the hallway attached at the lips before he finally grabbed ahold of her and pressed her up against the wall. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as they both yearned to be closer to each other.

“Is this okay,” EZ had asked, his lips trailing down her neck while his hands held tightly to her back side.

It had made her smile; it had been a very long time since any man had ever asked her permission for anything let alone this. So she had placed her hands on either side of his face and pulled his attention back to her face before speaking. All she said was a breathless yes before they stumbled their way to the bedroom.

By the time Sloane was able to pull herself back to reality, back from her thoughts Ezekiel had flipped her onto her back and was pushing his shirt up over her chest to let his mouth wander over her breasts. A shiver shot through her at the feeling of his soft lips kissing and sucking at her skin. She let her fingers run over the smooth buzzcut of his as he traveled farther and farther down her body until she could feel his warm breath between her thighs.

Before they had both been so hungry for each other all they wanted to do was get off and quickly. But now they wanted to take their time. EZ wanted to explore her body; he wanted to hear the way she’d moan the first time she felt his tongue on her, he wanted to know how it felt to have her body wrapped around his while they made love. Sloane wanted to hear his gruff voice whispering to her while he was inside her, to feel the weight of his strong body on top of hers once more.

The room had fallen silent except for the sound of the shaky breaths she was taking as he gave his full attention to her core. His tongue lapped at her lips teasingly before she felt his teeth graze the sensitive little nub tucked inside. A whiney moan escaped her, her back arching at the new sensation. His hands held tightly to her thighs with his face buried between them for what felt like an eternity and by the time he pulled back her entire body was shaking on the edge of an intense orgasm.

“Ezekiel...please,” she almost pleaded with him.

A smile curled at the corners of his mouth before he peppered the inside of her thigh with kisses, “be patient, baby.”

And she tried to stop herself from letting out the sound that came next but she couldn’t help herself. The moan was throaty and full of lust, her lips parted perfectly and bright cherry red from how she’d been biting on the bottom lip. Hearing him call her baby was more than enough to encourage her to hold off for him. If she was honest she’d do just about anything for him right now.

Once more his lips trailed her skin but this time he was heading upwards, leaving the spot between her legs he’d made himself at home at and making his way to her breasts. The pink colored skin of her nipples was pebbled and hard from just the light nibbles he was giving her skin. But he hadn’t forgotten about her needs; while his mouth made quick work of her nipples he let one hand slip between her thighs and slipped two fingers inside of her which elicited a sharp intake of breath from her.

Her body writhed underneath him in an attempt to hurry along her orgasm because she knew once she came like this he’d been inside of her. And her body felt like every inch of her was on fire the way he was working her core with just his fingers. The tips of his calloused fingers were gliding over her gspot repetitively while his thumb rubbed back and forth over her clit.

Just as her back began to arch off the sheets below her EZ moved his attention from her chest up to her neck and then let his lips rest against her earlobe before he spoke. “Can you come for me,” he whispered, his free hand caressing her side.

In her head she had a witty line to reply with but she couldn’t get it out. The wires were crossed because her body was in overdrive the way he was fucking his fingers into her. So she settled on a lot of eye contact and a quick, almost pleading, nod of the head.

“Good girl,” he cooed.

At that her legs began to shake and she let her nails dig into his bare back as she began to hit her climax. A few throaty moans broke the silence in the room before he pressed his lips to hers, letting his mouth swallow her audible pleasure as she came down.

For a few short moments the two of them laid there tangled together allowing each other to cool off. But she could feel how hard he was as his erection pressed into her hip. Without a word she slipped her hand between the two of them and slowly stroked him, his hips absentmindedly working in motion with her hand. “I need you,” she breathed, pressing her lips to his temple.

They both knew one of them should’ve reached for a condom. It wasn’t anything new to either of them to use protection but they couldn’t be bothered in this moment. Both of them ached to feel that closeness between the two of them again. They each wanted to feel the slow movements of the other while they were so intimately joined together. Before had been quick and sloppy. But this, this was going to be slow and needy for both of them.

They hadn’t spoken of it but they both knew the other needed this intimacy. He was looking to forget his life back home for a while and she was holding off on reality herself. She wanted to remember what it felt like to have a man’s gentle touch, to be with someone who wanted to be with her.

EZ lifted his head until their foreheads were resting against one another, his nose grazing the tip of hers as he repositioned himself between her legs. He pushed her legs wider with his muscular thighs, his cock grazed her lips for a second before he slowly slide inside of her.

In unison they both let out shaky moans; her hands gripped onto his biceps as he hovered above her, their faces still touching. His eyes studied her face for a few more moments before he began working his hips against hers. The soft sound of skin on skin filling the quiet bedroom. One hand of his slipped beneath her to grab hold of her backside while the other slide up her neck until it was placed just under her chin, the slightest amount of pressure applied.

“Ezekial,” she sighed, her lips curling into a smile at the feeling of his hand around her neck.

He had to clinch his jaw to keep his composure. Hearing his name fall from her lips like that, with the visual of his hand where it was placed was too much for him. And the way her body moved in rhythm with his as he fucked her slowly only made him more sensitive. To keep his mind occupied, to hold himself off as long as possible, he busied himself kissing up her jawine until he buried his face into the crook of her neck. The faint smell of her perfume lingered there.

Sloan let her eyes flutter closed as he allowed himself to rest on top of her, bringing them closer together as they fucked. One leg hooked behind him to keep them close while her hands held tightly to his broad back. His skin was soft to the touch and he smelled like sandalwood, she couldn’t imagine anyone like him ever being in jail but he’d divulged that to her earlier. If it had been anyone else she would’ve ended the night but not with EZ. No, for some reason even after he told her about his past she still felt safe with him.

“You feel so fucking good,” he finally spoke again.

She smiled against his ear, nibbling at the skin, before pressing him back from her and back onto the bed. For a split second he fell from her but she quickly straddled him and guided him back to her core. A shutter went through her at the way she stretched around him. “I could do this all night,” she finally replied, her breathing uneven.

That beautiful smile of his spread across his face and she couldn’t help but smile back. Even in the darkness of the bedroom she could still see how perfect it was, she could still map out the little creases at the side of his eyes that formed when he smiled.

Resting her hands on his chest she began to buck her hips back and forth quicker now. His hands found their way to her hips and held onto her as he watched her from below, his hips working up against her. Her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted at the feeling of him slipping deeper inside of her. EZ’s eyes were fixated on the way her breasts bounced up and down with every movement either of them made.

The tattoos that littered her skin on display as she rode him and he wanted to kiss every last one, trace them with his fingertips while they laid naked together. He wanted to know about the little one that sat on her left hip all the way up to the lotus flower at the nape of her neck.

Soon he was pulled from his thoughts when he heard her call out his name once more. This time it was needy; her brow furrowed together as her body leaned down closer to his. Instinctively he placed his hand into her mess of hair and pulled her down even closer until they were chest to chest. Again their foreheads hovered close together as he began to take control.

It was her turn to watch him as he fucked up into her in an attempt to get them both off. Short, choked moans came from both of them as they got closer and closer. She could see the neediness behind those brown eyes of his. And she could feel it in the way he was holding onto her, his fingers digging into the skin of her ass.

Slipping a hand between them she began to work her clit in time with the way he was working into her and it made her breath catch in her throat. The sudden newness of the pressure against the bundle of nerves drove her closer to the edge. And he could feel it in the way she tightened around him so suddenly.

Again they locked eyes as he fucked into her a few more quick times before he felt her tighten against him. Her mouth fell open as she let out the most lust filled moan he’d ever heard. Which only egged him on more, thrusting into her at a punishing pace until he finally released inside of her. Her lips rested against his earlobe as she let out a few more soft, whiny moans while he slowly continued to work into her.

The two of them went at it like this for the next few hours until the sun began to creep into the room through the blinds. He held her close against his chest as they spoke in hushed tones as if someone could hear what they were saying. It took everything in him to finally make himself leave her. But he knew he needed to start home or else he’d have more missed phone calls on his cell.

She pulled the sheets up over chest while she watched him pull his jeans on and search for the shirt of his she’d pulled on earlier in the night. The way his muscles moved under his clothes only made her want to pull them off again but she knew he had to leave. He had a life somewhere else and she had a son she was missing more than she realized at that moment.

“Last night was,” EZ paused, trying to think of the right word to us.

#ezekiel reyes x oc #ez reyes x oc #mayans mc #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes #ez reyes imagine #ezekiel reyes imagine

[sankyeom]

𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜 // 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚘𝚗𝚎

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍!𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚠𝚘𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚞

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚗𝚘𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚠𝚘𝚘. 𝚘𝚛, 𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚠𝚘𝚘 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌.

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 // 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝

Sunwoo was a little drunk.

That much was clear just by his appearance alone. His eyes, usually sparkly and warm, were rimmed with red and caused Sunwoo’s vision to be slightly blurred under the effects of the alcohol he had consumed that evening.

He didn’t intend for that night to happen that way. Originally, Eric had brought Sunwoo to the party to cheer him up after moping around for four days. Sunwoo was so upset about what happened that he wouldn’t even tell Eric what it was. Still, his best friend figured that if it was bad enough, Sunwoo would just tell him what happened eventually. The party seemed like the perfect solution, especially since all of their friends would be attending as well.

Y/n had been doing somewhat better than Sunwoo.

She had refused to believe their short disagreement over text was a break up, and was simply waiting for Sunwoo to calm down enough to have a proper conversation with her. This seemed to be the mature thing to do, even if she wasn’t sure she believed it.

Some time at the start of the party, Y/n ran into Bomin from high school and her legal studies class. She was all too happy with the distraction. Bomin was equal parts funny, kind and had the opposite personality to Sunwoo’s. As such, he made the perfect form of entertainment for the evening. His gorgeous smile helped cheer her up a little, too. Eric had joined the pair after noticing them, remembering Bomin from high school and all too enthusiastic to catch up with him.

Just when Y/n wanted to leave and find Kevin – a result of Eric and Bomin speaking entirely about baseball and little else – she spotted Hyunggu greeting Hyunjae in the corner of her eyes. Recalling that she hadn’t seen him since their legal studies final, Y/n excused herself to greet the older man.

“Hey,” she appeared beside Hyunjae, smiling widely at him and Hyunggu. Hyunggu’s eyes lit up with delight after recognising Y/n. “Good to see you again,” she told Hyunggu, accepting the warm hug he was holding his arms out for. The two had become quite decent friends over the semester.

“You too! How was your break?”

As Hyunggu and Y/n conversed, Hyunjae smirked and left the two alone in favour of finding his friends, spying on them from a distance. The pair hadn’t even noticed Hyunjae leave, which made him giggle as he approached Sunwoo, Kevin and Chanhee.

“What are you smirking about?” Chanhee wondered, sipping on his drink with a raised brow.

“Hyunggu and Y/n,” Hyunjae sang their names, pointing them out in the crowded room. You were leaning your ear closer to Hyunggu’s lips so you could better understand him over the music, bursting into laughter once you understood him. “They’re in their own little world over there.”

Sunwoo’s heart dropped into his stomach, and not just from the alcohol he had consumed that day.

Chanhee grinned. “They’re actually pretty cute together,” your friend allowed. “But I saw her with Bomin earlier, and they’re way cuter together.”

“Choi Bomin? He’s one good-looking guy. Him and Y/n would have gorgeous children. Still, I’m team Hyunggu.”

Sunwoo couldn’t help but bite his bottom lip to suppress a scoff. That Bomin guy again? Surely you weren’t just spending time with all the men that were interested in you for no reason.

Kevin, having noticed Sunwoo’s silence and knowing the truth about your relationship with him, intervened. “Let’s not start shipping Y/n with every male around her,” he tried to joke. “She’s her own person.”

“Of course,” Hyunjae nodded. “Besides, she said she wasn’t interested in either of them. I wonder why she never even went on a date with Hyunggu…”

Sunwoo downed what was left in his cup and frowned. “I’m just gonna-” without finishing his sentence, he made his way to where you stood.

Hyunggu saw him before you did. “Oh hi,” he greeted. “It’s Sunwoo, right?”

At the sound of your boyfriend’s name, you tensed. “Yeah,” Sunwoo nodded. “Could I have a minute with her?” he motioned to you. Hyunggu shrugged and you let Sunwoo lead you out of the house and to the front porch, away from prying eyes.

Chanhee, Hyunjae and Kevin watched. “Well that’s new,” Chanhee said, surprised by Sunwoo willingly speaking to you. “I’ve certainly never seen them voluntarily interact before.”

Once you were outside, you felt the bite of the late January air against your skin, even through your sweater and jeans. Noticing this, Sunwoo took off his sherpa-lined leather jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. “Are you doing this on purpose?” he asked, breaking the silence as he zipped the jacket up.

You exhaled. “Doing what, Sunwoo? I don’t want to play games. Just tell me what you mean.”

The combination of the jealousy and alcohol in his system made Sunwoo’s head slightly foggy. “Hyunggu, Bomin,” he listed off. “Everyone likes you and wants to go out with you.”

“That’s not true,” you denied. “They’re my classmates; friends I made over the semester. Hyunggu asked me out and I decided not to go because of you, remember?”

“Friends,” Sunwoo scoffed. “Do all of your friends flirt with you?”

Frustrated with his behaviour, you bit back “Well, they wouldn’t flirt with me if they knew I had a boyfriend. But you don’t want to tell anyone so I don’t have any reason to tell them to leave me alone.”

“Don’t have any reason?” Sunwoo echoed. “So you’re saying that you just let them flirt with you even though we’re dating? That doesn’t seem fair.”

“You want to talk about what’s fair?” you exclaimed. “Fine! Let’s talk. But I’m not wasting my time to explain to you that I can have male friends even though we’re dating. They’ve never crossed any line that made me uncomfortable or compromised my relationship with you,” you bit your bottom lip. “You do that on your own just fine.”

“Nice,” Sunwoo rolled his eyes. “Really nice. Thanks for that.” As he tried to sit on the front steps, he lost his footing and nearly fell.

“You’re drunk,” you realised, stabilising his balance by taking ahold of his arms. “Go home, Sunwoo,” you said, feeling disappointed. “I’m not going to pointlessly argue while you’re drunk.”

“So now you’re mad about me being drunk? Am I not allowed to go out and have fun?”

“I’m not mad that you’re drunk!” You felt like your words were falling on deaf ears. “I’m mad because you never deal with your feelings,” you explained. “I’m mad because you say that you’re dating me and you love me, then you just ignore any conflict that arises and act out like this!”

You still had more to say, but someone else’s voice stopped you dead in your tracks. “Did you just say you’re dating?” Eric asked, voice ablaze with confusion and anger.

You almost stopped breathing in that moment.

Turning to face where your brother had just exited the house – most likely to find you after speaking with Bomin or check on how drunk Sunwoo was – you found Eric glaring at Sunwoo. “Eric,” you stammered. “I- I can explain. I know you’re probably upset with me for-“

“How could you?” Eric exclaimed to Sunwoo, tears welling in the corners of his eyes.

You had expected Eric to shout at you, maybe call you a liar and be angry at you for keeping things from him. What you hadn’t expected was Eric to be gazing at Sunwoo as if he had betrayed him, tears leaking out of his eyes and dripping down his cheeks.

Eric cried often. It was one of the many things you loved about your brother: his sensitivity and ginormous heart.

And yet, you never saw this coming.

“Eric,” Sunwoo said quietly. “I-“ he closed his mouth, unsure of what to say. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

“No,” Eric shook his head, angrily wiping the tears away. “I’m sure you didn’t want me to find out at all, did you? I bet that you thought everything would be fine as long as I didn’t find out. That it wouldn’t be a breach of trust if I had no clue.”

The way your brother’s words hit close to home only served to confuse you further.

“Please don’t be mad,” Sunwoo’s voice shook, suddenly desperate and panicked at having been caught. He stepped out of your hold to approach your brother. “Please don’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Eric, I just-“

“You broke your promise, Sunwoo,” Eric sobbed. “You promised you wouldn’t do this.”

Promised?

“What are you guys talking about?” you demanded.

please don’t kill me for that cliffhanger... see you in four days lol

also stan golden child and pentagon pls thnx

#tbz #the boyz #sunwoo #the boyz imagines #sunwoo imagines #the boyz texts #the boyz fanfic #the boyz fic #the boyz fake texts #the boyz scenarios #the boyz social media au #social media au #kpop social media au #sunwoo x reader #the boyz x reader #the boyz imagine #sunwoo imagine #fic: break your rules