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simonsrosebud · 3 months

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my aftg fox children headcannons (guys be nice to them okay)

Dan & Matt:

They have two boys, Jace and Abram Boyd, one year apart (Abram wasn’t planned hehe) by the time Dan is 32.

Dan/Matt aren’t religious, but they still assign godparents to their kids. Jace’s godparents are Wymack and Abby, Abram’s are Neil and Renee.

At first Neil said no. He didn’t think that responsibility was something he could handle until he eventually got a call from Renee. “I know why you’re calling me” “I figured you would. I warned Matt and Dan that you may not respond in the way they wish, they don’t take it personally,” she’d said. Neil knew it wasn’t personal, but he admitted he also didn’t see the point and couldn’t be cut out for that. “I think you may misunderstand their intentions, may I try to clear it up?” Renee explained that, really, it was only a title, a glorified uncle of sorts, since the boys weren’t getting baptized and they weren’t putting their godparents in their will’s like old tradition did. “It’s a way to showcase the love and trust they have in others; you, me, Coach Wymack and Abby”. “It is an excuse to spoil them rotten,” Andrew had added when he talked to Neil. Renee told Matt to wait a bit, not to push, and a week later when Neil was randomly on the phone w Matt he said “I’ll do it, by the way. The kid thing- The godfather thing.”

Naming Abram was a struggle. They wanted something meaningful since Jace’s middle name was David. It wasn’t until Dan asked Matt what Neil’s middle name was that they got cookin. Neil was in the off season when he was born, so he drove out (accompanied by Andrew) to Atlanta from Columbia and they asked Neil when he got there.

Their backup name was Joshua (aka Josten) in case Neil wasn’t comfortable with Abram. Luckily it only took a few minutes of blue-screening for Neil to shake it off and allow it. Abram was Neil’s one real name, the one thing he’d kept all those years, the thing that made him feel grounded and safe. But Neil was 27. He hadn’t needed the name since he first moved away from PSU at 23 and was alone again. The kid deserved something safe.

ANYWAY. Jace is a certified hetero and goes to University of Miami for college. He grew up playing exy and baseball but once he was a sophomore in high school he quit exy and stuck to baseball all through high school. He’s 5’10.

Abram plays midfielder for soccer and used to play backliner for exy. Abram goes to PSU and rooms with Elliot (Andriel’s adopted kid, just wait it’ll make sense i promise), joins a campus soccer team, then makes the PSU team his sophomore year as a walk on.

Abram is 6’1. Has massive game but doesn’t use it bc he’s kinda oblivious. Very silly and energetic and comes off flirty sometimes when he’s just being nice and goofy. He later attributes it to the fact that he didn’t know he was bisexual until senior year of high school.

Abram fucking fawns over Elliot 3 months into living together bc he realizes he’s kinda in love with him. Never lets it show bc he won’t ruin their friendship and plus they share a room tg. Def foams at the mouth when Elliot comes back sweaty and shirtless from runs. Once Elliot is eating a banana and out of nowhere says “You ever eat a banana and wonder how the fuck girls suck dicks?” in the dining hall and Abram chokes on his drink so bad it comes out of his nose. Horrified.

Neil & Andrew (ik hold on):

Blake (f) and Elliot (m) Nelson.

Andriel had no intention of ever having kids bc no.

However, when Andrew and Neil are 42/43 and living in South Carolina again, Andrew notices that there are footprints in Neil’s garden. Then he sees it again and sees that the footprints continue towards the shed in the backyard. He checks their cameras to see that it’s a young girl coming and going with Neil’s electric bike a few nights a week from 12am-4am. The third time he waits inside the shed and promptly scares the living shit out of her.

QUICK VERSION: Andrew catches Blake sneaking into their backyard shed and borrowing Neil’s electric bike at night a few times a week, lets her use Neil’s old raggedy bike that hasn’t seen the light of day in years, turns a blind eye when she returns it run over, gives her bus money instead, goes back and forth with her for like 1.5 months, points out the bruise & bandages she shows up with one night while he’s sitting outside at 12am (insomnia), doesn’t see her for 2 months, shows up at the 24 hour CVS she works at 3-4 nights a week and sees the bruises on her hand and throat through her turtleneck while she thought no one was looking, threatens to call the police post-shift at 4am and sits with her through a panic attack bc “He’ll- I’m only 15, they’ll make me quit my job and we can’t to afford- and they’ll split us up, and he- Elliot won’t- he can’t- oh my god” and then takes her to his house w consent, briefs Neil bc those kids need to get out of that house but they’re not staying here, Neil who somehow takes it all without a second thought and says “well not forever, but definitely for the night”, takes Blake and Neil (awk first meeting) to Blake’s house and gets Elliot out of the house while their dad is gone (Elliot has a black eye and bruises from rough fingers on his forearm and says dad left in a rampage when he saw u were gone, and i told you that job wasn’t fucking worth it).

Elliot doesn’t trust either of the men after what his sister protected him from and doesn’t know wtf is happening bc he thought Blake had been borrowing her friend’s bike. They stay in Andriel’s guest bedroom for the day, Abby is retired by now but only lives 45 minutes away. Neil takes charge of calling her despite Andrew thinking there’s more pressing matters like kidnapping 2 teenagers. “You didn’t kidnap us, idiot, we came with you” Blake says.

Long story short, the siblings end up staying with them longer than they thought due to lawyers and police and safety.

It becomes kind of a lost and found situation. What was once “while we get legalities figured out” became “until your father’s trial is over”, which stretched into “no way they’re getting sent to XYZ” and “until they can find someone competent enough to handle trainwreck’s, they’re stuck here” and “Dan won’t care if we bring them to Thanksgiving, right?” “Amalia’s been playing exy since she could walk, Kevin, Elliot started a year ago” “Elliot knows Santa isn’t real, right? That stops at, like, 12?” “I’m not teaching her to drive, I’ll get myself killed” “If your mouth gets you kicked out of school, don’t come crying to me” “Addie & Annie keep telling Blake to spend a weekend in Atlanta” “I’m not telling her not to date, she scares me” “Just because your mother wasn’t worse doesn’t mean she was good”

Until one day, two and a half years later, Blake hands Neil an application for adoption, who tilts it towards Andrew, who silently takes it and begins to fill it out.

Blake is 5’0, Elliot is 5’9. Blake is blonde and Elliot has light brown hair, and while they’re not ghostly pale, both of them burn in the sun in .2 seconds.

Elliot does cross country and was training for a 10k when they left their dad so Neil gladly continues that. He’s in awe when he finds out who Andrew and Neil really are, not because he knows their names but bc once he watches their old games it’s like watching gods to him. He’s a true golden retriever which isn’t helped by his ADHD, anxiety and mild dyslexia, which he doesn’t get medicated for until he’s 16.

When Elliot was 13 he almost drowned in a lake bc he was never taught how to swim. When their dad found out he took him back to the lake against his will and kept tossing him in the lake until he kept himself afloat enough to pull himself up onto the dock, nearly coughing up water. It was so traumatic to a young kid that Elliot had a problem with bodies of water after that. Instead of being fine just not going in, he avoids pools or lakes entirely. Beaches are give or take since he can sit far up on the sand.

Elliot watches exy with Neil and feels cool about it; latches onto King instantly and vice versa bc she’s an ESA and his anxiety is through the roof half the time.

Elliot gels very quickly with Jace and Abram when Andriel brings them to Thanksgiving at the Boyd’s house. Once he gets the boys’ numbers they add him and Blake to the groupchat they have with Kateaaron’s, Kevin’s, and Allison’s kids.

Later, when Elliot goes to college at PSU, he and Abram room together. They become even more attached at the hip (impossible) and Elliot becomes infatuated with Abram in a totally normal way that he eventually figures out by spring break is definitely bc he wants to fuck him. But Elliot is chaotic and too anxiety ridden to ever make a move so he bides his time being innocently flirty that comes off as being silly, and doesn’t complain when Abram wraps his arms around him or lets him sleep back to back in Abram’s bed after Elliot has a bad nightmare or can’t turn his brain off at night.

Eventually, sophomore year when they live in a house with 3 other guys, Elliot climbs into Abram’s bed face down after a night out, almost half on top of Abram. They’re literally both so drunk. “You’re in my bed,” Elliot slurs. “S’my bed, babe”. Elliot lifts himself up on his elbow over Abram’s (warm and shirtless) chest. “Who you callin babe?” Abram giggles lowly and Elliot leans down and kisses his cheek, “You can be my babe, babe” he boops Abram’s nose and giggles drunkenly, and his head is dipped low already when he lets his lips lightly press down on Abram’s chin, simply touching, before actually pressing a kiss there after a second. Abram’s hand comes up just as he presses that second kiss down, tangling into Elliot’s hair, and when Elliot pulls his head back up Abram’s grip tightens. Abram tilts his chin up and kisses just beside Elliot’s mouth, pulling him down fully and kissing him deep after the two pause against each other for less than a moment.

Aka, they hardcore make out. We’re talking ass grabbing, lib biting, neck sucking, Elliot straddling Abram, a bit of dry humping, Abram pressing him down into the mattress and moving down to-

Anyway, when they wake up Elliot runs to the bathroom connected to Abram’s room to throw up, and when he notices Abram come to the doorway he says “Dude, you sucked my dick” into the toilet bowl “you’re, like, really good at it, too” immediately wretches again. And it’s probs the hazy hangovers, but Abram says, “Yeah, been wanting to do that for a while” “Thank god, I’ve been dreaming about you doing that since last year… Hey, B?” Abram hums and Elliot doesn’t even lift his face from his arms over the toilet seat before asking “Wanna go out with me?” cue gagging, but luckily Abram splashes his face w water and leans down to just kiss the back of Elliot’s neck “oh that was hot” Elliot mumbles. “Yes, I’ll go out with you” “Thanks… Hey B?” another hum “Can you start the shower and also kill me while you’re at it?” “Whatever you want, babe”

Junior year Abram has to live at Fox Tower but Elliot and the other 3 guys stick together. Except Abram is closer with these guys so he ends up sleeping in Elliot’s bed like 4-5 nights a week. Elliot is an absolute THEIF of clothes too, like if Abram comes over he’s going home without a hoodie.

Elliot calls him B or Bram, most recently babe. Abram calls him baby, El, and sometimes sugar when they’re alone.

Blake is queer too which Neil gets really relieved by because how tf do u give a girl the talk. Turns out Andrew had already done it bluntly and against her will when she first went on a date at 16.

Blake doesn’t go to uni but gets her associates at a community college and Allison somehow gets her an internship with a PR agency, shocking considering her no-filter and sailors mouth.

Aaron & Katelyn:

They have identical twin girls: Annalise and Addison.

The twins are… not planned… they’re 26 and Aaron’s in his last semester of med school while Katelyn is nearing the end of her first year of residency (bc exy players 5th year). Thankfully Aaron had already been matched with the hospital Katelyn was at for his residency.

Aaron gets genuinely terrified when she tells him over the phone like 3 days before he was due to visit. He calls Andrew bc it’s too soon and this isn’t supposed to happen and he doesn’t know how to be a parent when the only one he had was a piece of shit and it’s the first time Andrew hears him audibly diss Tilda without adding “but she was my mom”. Andrew doesn’t say much, but he does say “You had a terrible childhood, yes?” “I mean, yeah” “Good. Don’t replicate it, and maybe yours won’t hate you.” and it’s enough.

All of this is thrown out the window when they find out they’re having twins. Aaron almost faints.

Annalise’s nickname is Annie and sometimes Anna by school friends. She has zero preference between the three options.

Addison rarely gets called her full name other than teachers, gets called Addie.

Andrew calls them both by their full names.

Katelyn has no middle name, so when her and Aaron get married she made Mackenzie her middle name and took Aaron’s surname.

Aaron calls his girls Ad/Addie-baby and Anna-bear.

Addie’s middle name is Mackenzie, Annie’s is Nichola…. you know why🥹

When Katelyn has to full name them she’ll typically yell “Annalise Nick!” and “Mackenzie!”

Aaron didn’t like the nickname Annie bc she’s a redhead and “orphan annie” felt weird bc he and Andrew are orphans. But Katelyn loved the name and it came naturally from others so he got over it.

Addie is bisexual aromantic. Annie is straight.

Addie goes to University of Georgia, and Annie goes to PSU for their really good speech pathology program (the twins are a year older than Jace/Blake and 2 years older than Abram/Elliot so Annie was the first kid to go to PSU).

The twins grew up in Chicago until they were 11, then moved to Atlanta, Georgia. Since they’re close to U Georgia, Addie tells her parents they’re only allowed to visit when she says so she’s not suffocated. Annie is more of a homebody so she not only loves that Dan is at PSU, but would let Kateaaron visit every weekend if they wanted (daddy’s girl).

Allison:

Maybe she gets married maybe she doesn’t, regardless I like to think she doesn’t for a while and ends up adopting a 3 year old named Sabrina.

Sabrina grows up to be a natural honey blonde just like Allison and coincidentally has her same smokey grey eyes.

Queen of nicknames: Sab, Bri, Brina, Briners, Reynolds.

Sabrina never puts a label on her sexuality and is pretty fluid with it, just doesn’t rlly give a fuck.

Grows up in Miami but they go to NYC every winter break and normally 1-2 times every summer. Grew up traveling with Allison but not enough that it affects her childhood.

Goes to NYU. Eventually helps Allison run, design, model for her fashion empire.

Has like a million followers on Instagram, has modeled for Victoria Secret, has been a brand ambassador for Moschino and goes to Paris fashion week w Allison every year once she’s 16.

Since the Foxes go on vacation every summer together, Sabrina grows up very close with the twin girls since they’re the same age. Brina and Addie *experimented* together when they were younger bc they didn’t wanna go to college not knowing anything. Since then, every time they see each other they end up hooking up. They’re very touchy feely with one another, but Brina is kinda like that anyway. Addie only tolerates her and Annie being like that.

They jokingly call their situation “best friends who bone”. Realistically, they’re in a (long distance lol) queerplatonic relationship that just includes sex. Annie secretly thinks Sabrina is aro as well but keeps it to herself bc it doesn’t matter to label it.

Kevin & Thea:

Amalia Day🫶🏼

Youngest of the kids, 3 years younger than Abram/Elliot. They weren’t necessarily concerned with the prospect of kids, so she isn’t born until Kevin is 32 and Thea is 36, not even a full year after she retires due to one too many knee injuries. She goes to Kevin one day after practice and kinda straight up says, “I want a child- No” she cuts him off “I’m 36, I want to be a mother, I want to be a mother with you, and I don’t want to be seventy when she goes off to college” but Kevin just says “She?” “Yes, I’m not bringing another spitting image of Kevin Day into this world”.

Clearly, they do have a girl. Despite Thea’s blunt and sometimes abrasive approach to some things, she takes to being a mother with all the gentle-ness that Kevin remembers of his own, and it’s enough to calm him about being a father (bc we all know Kevin was shitting his pants the whole time).

Amalia is tanner than Kayleigh was, but it’s unnerving how similar she looks to Kayleigh. It makes Wymack a complete pushover for her (though he always says no at first just to say he did).

Amalia grows up playing exy, of course, but also soccer and dance which pains Kevin and Thea reminds him to stfu. Thankfully for him, she’s really fucking good at Exy and gives up dance by the time she’s 8 and soccer by 11.

Plays for the US Teen Exy All Stars team (idk made it up). She plays offensive dealer. Her playing becomes Kevin’s dare I say obsession, but he becomes good (by force of Wymack, Thea, Andrew and surprisingly Jean) at being normal about it- not forcing exy down her throat and pressuring her. It’s good that she’s not a striker living up to Kevin’s legacy.

Amalia makes a Twitter when she’s 16 and it lasts about 3 weeks until Kevin finds out and makes her give him her password to monitor the account. Smart, giving the family’s status and her age, but she acts like it’s the end of the world.

If it wasn’t for Wymack, she would probably be an entitled brat. He keeps her humble along with the other kids.

Terrible fucking driver. Like holy shit.

Thea learned French over the years, so they raise her speaking English and French. As a teen she says she wishes she spoke German instead since Andrew, Aaron, Neil, Nicky, Erik, Annie, Addie, and Blake (eventually) all speak it.

She eventually goes to play for USC Trojans, plays pro, and goes to the Olympics as a 4th year senior in college.

Ages:

Sabrina Reynolds, the twins

Blake/Jace

Elliot/Abram

Amalia

All the kids are one year apart, with Amalia the youngest at 3 years younger than the boys and 5 years younger than Sabrina.

That’s all folks holy shit this was long. Maybe I’ll expand on it soon

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writingonleaves · 8 months

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and all at once, you’re all i want (i’ll never let you go) - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x original female character

warnings: literally nothing. fluff! some minor worship of nina hischier (the goat), a little love letter to my alma mater

title: "king of my heart" by taylor swift

word count: 10.3k

author's note: first fic in the new year is for @wyattjohnston 's winter fic exchange 2k24!! i had the absolute pleasure of writing for @wildrangers <3 taylor, i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed putting it together and demi, thank you for your endless hard work for putting this on!!

four times where jack hughes and ashley grassie showed up for each other and one time where everyone showed up for them

*****

one - two months

“Jack, are you sure about this?” Ashley asks, fiddling with the silver rings on her fingers.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He responds confidently, sparing a look at her from the drivers seat before turning his eyes back on the road. “Everyone’s expecting you.”

“You told them?”

“That my girlfriend was coming with me to a New Year’s party? Of course.” He squeezes her thigh lightly. “They’re excited to meet you. And not while we’re working.”

“I’m excited to meet them too.”

“You sure?” He teases lightly. “You’ve been quiet all afternoon.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.” They stop at a red light, and he leans over to kiss her cheek. “Ash, baby, they’re gonna love you.”

“But you don’t know that,” she protests softly.

“I do, actually. Because everyone loves you.”

She rolls her eyes. “You can’t promise me that everyone’s gonna even like me.”

He shrugs. “I’ll prove you wrong. You’ll see.” He tugs at her gold sweater. “Is this new?”

“Yeah. Seems fitting for the occasion. Sparkles equals New Years, right?”

“I like it a lot.”

“I know what you’re doing,” she deadpans.

He smirks. “And what might that be?”

“Distracting me.”

“Maybe so. You’re so smart, Miss Columbia Grad.”

“Jack,” she whines, making him laugh.

He picks up her hand and kisses the back of it. “Trust me, okay? It’ll be great. And I’ll be with you all night.”

Ashley swallows, before forcing herself to nod.

The thing is, after two months of dating officially (she’s not counting the month beforehand when there wasn’t a label on things even though there should’ve been), there are still important parts of each other’s lives they have yet to experience together. She’s gone to a few of his games, but has never met any of his teammates (except for Luke, but he doesn’t count), choosing to meet Jack back at his place after instead of waiting for him at the rink. She also doesn’t count that one Devils game she had to fill in for, which is how she met Jack in the first place. The few times he’s invited her along when he does go out with them, she’s been busy with other things.

New Year’s is kinda a big time to be meeting new people. People that mean a lot to Jack. But that could just also be all in Ashley’s head. She’s never really done this before. The last serious boyfriend she had was in high school where everyone knew each other. There was no need for introductions.

Jack squeezes her hand. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Coming with me to this. Taking off work early. I appreciate it a lot.”

She shrugs casually. “It’s about time, right?” She pointedly ignores the look he shoots her, because she doesn’t want him to know how nervous she really is.

Before they know it, Jack’s pulled into the driveway of the Toffolis and her hands start sweating again. She gathers the flowers on her lap and the wine bag as Jack rounds the car and opens the door for her. He grabs the bag, presses a kiss atop her head and hand in hand, they walk to the front door. She lets Jack take the lead as he just walks in. They walk into the kitchen area, as Cat pulls her into a hug and thanks them graciously for the flowers and wine.

It turns out that Ashley really does have nothing to worry about. Getting thrown into a whirlwind of introductions and new names is a lot, but she doesn’t mind. A wave of comfort crashes over her as Luke practically hauls her into a hug.

She finds herself besides Nico after he hands her a glass of wine. “You’re a journalist, right?” He asks.

“I am.”

“Do you ever watch Jack’s media interviews?”

Ashley giggles. “I do once in awhile. Trust me, I have my thoughts. I also met him for the first time from that. And you, technically.”

“Right, right. Will we ever see you in the locker room again?”

“Probably not. I was just filling in for Danny. On the rare chance I do sports, it’s usually for the Jets. Besides, better to watch and support you all without any stake professionally.”

“What do you usually report on?” Nico asks with genuine curiosity.

She perks up, like anytime she gets to talk about her job. As she talks, using her hands animatedly despite one of them holding a drink, Jack looks on from a distance with a lovesick look in his eyes.

“She is way too cool for you,” Dawson says, fixing his cap.

Jack rolls his eyes. “Shut up.” But Jack knows his teammate’s right.

Jack’s not clingy, perse, but it’s hard for him to watch Ashley just…be and not be touching a part of her. Even if it’s just sliding up against her so her body is pressed alongside his, he just wants to be near her all the time.

(Quinn once sent some random thing he found on Instagram about love languages a few years back and Jack had remembered absolutely roasting him. But maybe he had a point)

“So,” Nicole starts, refilling both their glasses up with champagne a bit later in the evening. “Why Jack?”

Ashley snorts. “Your guess is as good as mine.” From beside his girlfriend, Jesper barks out a laugh and from next to Ashley, Jack pouts. Ashley laughs, leaning into Jack’s side. “I’m kidding. Mostly. I was hesitant at first though.”

“Oh, yeah. He told me about this,” Jesper says. “Said he chased you down the hall after post-game media and asked you out?”

“Sounds about right.”

“And you said yes to that?” Jesper asks. Jack whacks his teammate in the stomach.

“Not right away,” Ashley admits. “He gave me his number and told me to text him if I was interested. And I ended up being interested.”

“Lucky for him,” Nicole chuckles.

Jack squeezes Ashley’s waist fondly. “Lucky for me.”

She listens on in interest as Nicole talks about how she and Jesper got together. Somewhere throughout the conversation, she can’t help but let her mind drift. They’ve been together for years now, been living together for a bit and are looking to move into a house. She literally moved away from Sweden full-time for him.

Ashley swallows as Jack asks about how their house search is going. There’s a very little chance that Jack will be leaving Jersey anytime within the next half decade. But her mother warned her that his career could take him places in the future unexpectedly.

And in a way, so could Ashley’s. But it’s not as easy.

She scolds herself for even thinking this far. They’ve been dating for literally two months. That’s nothing in the grand scheme of things. They’re celebrating entering the new year today, but she has no idea if they’ll even be together for all of it.

She’s hoping they are. God, she really fucking hopes so. But she could hope until the end of the world and have it fall short. She smoothes her sweater out with her suddenly-clammy hands, chugging the whole glass of champagne before putting the flute down on a nearby table. She excuses herself politely to use the bathroom, which she does, before getting some air.

She definitely looks a bit crazy outside on the Toffoli’s porch in the dead of winter, but she doesn’t mind the biting edge of cold. It’s grounding her, actually.

“Was looking for you.”

Ashley doesn’t even look at Jack, humming as she hears him walking out to stand next to her. “Did my sparkle sweater give me away?”

“No, Neeks did, actually. Said he saw you walking out.” She finally looks at him with his eyebrows furrowed. “You’re not cold?”

“Don’t even think about offering me your jacket,” she warns. “I know you’re only wearing a t-shirt underneath.”

“Then come back inside so we both don’t die.”

“In a minute,” she promises.

He huffs, rubbing his hands up and down her arms to try and generate some heat. “Everything good?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Just, you know, minorly freaking out at her boyfriend’s teammate’s place about the fact that she might be falling in love with him even though it hasn’t been that long and what a future could look like for them and how that future could fall apart in an instant.

So regular New Year’s Eve thoughts.

“Unlike you, I don’t have a college degree, much less two,” Jack grins. “I can’t read minds.”

“And you think I can?” She jokes back weakly. He just chuckles. She continues. “Your friends are nice. I like them a lot.”

He lights up anytime someone he loves gets brought up in conversation. “Yeah, they’re cool. They like you too.”

“That’s good,” she says softly.

He taps her forehead with his pointer finger. “Countdown’s soon. Come back inside?” He laces their fingers together.

“You gonna kiss me at midnight?”

“Think so.”

“You only think so?”

Jack smirks, kissing her deeply. “Shut up.”

Ashley is absolutely floored.

two - one year and one month

Cam’s wedding crept up on her.

Of course, Ashley knew it was coming, but still. Though she was surprised when Jack told her that he was free of games on that particular early November weekend somehow, only having to miss an optional practice and that he would notify the coaching staff far in advance.

It’s not the act of bringing Jack that she’s nervous about. Cam and Amanda, his fiance, came into the city a few months ago and they all grabbed lunch before heading to a game at The Rock that night. She’ll never forget how ultimately “traitor-like to the Bruins” Cam felt, Ashley and Amanda finding it hilarious. They both had a good time though, and that’s all that matters, and Cam, who has always looked out for her even before she had ever asked, subtly gave his approval.

(“I’ll admit my assumptions about him were wrong,” Cam had said. “He’s awesome, and he really cares about you. If he’s the one, I won’t be mad about it. He’s very lucky.”)

It’s more of a particular person that’s going to be at the wedding.

Weirdly, when she and Alex broke up way back when, one of the thoughts that circled her mind months after was exactly this. If and when the day of Cam’s wedding came, and they were both still close to him, they’d both be there. And here they are.

She’s over him — obviously, considering she’s in a happy, long-term relationship and it’s been four years — but how do you prepare to see your ex-boyfriend when the last time you saw him you had just broken up and you were in tears?

She and Jack drive up to Cape Cod early the day of the wedding and she feels a bit bad that he’s driving after he had a game last night and has one in just two days but he doesn’t mind, happy to be driving as long as she’s in the passenger seat next to him. They’re switching off anyways, and she had driven the first half. Cam and Amanda rented out a bunch of rooms at a few inns for their guests so her and Jack will get ready there before heading to the venue.

From a quick rundown Cam gave her a month ago when they caught up over the phone, she’ll at least be familiar with a good amount of people at the wedding. She’s excited to see them all again and catch up, those memories that were bittersweet at some point, all water under the bridge so many years later.

It’s what you get for dating within a friend group. Ultimately, at some point, sides are chosen.

At the end of the day, it’s Cam, someone who has always been there for her since they were 16, even when she didn’t necessarily do the same. He’s given his friendship selflessly to her for over a decade. The least she can do is come to his wedding to celebrate.

And she has Jack with her. Nothing can go wrong with Jack by her side.

“You okay?” Jack’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts as he squeezes her thigh, sneaking a look before focusing back on the road. “You’re quiet. You’re rarely quiet in the car.”

“It’s a 5 hour drive, Jack.”

“I��ve been playing country nonstop for the last half an hour and you haven’t chirped me once.” She starts playing with his fingers and his eyebrows furrow. “Alright. What’s going on, baby? What are you thinking about?”

“You know what I’m thinking about.” She shoots back with no malice.

He sighs, linking their hands together and bringing them up to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “Yeah. I got you though. I’ll be with you the whole day.”

“It’s dumb, really. Four years. And I haven’t thought about him in a long time.”

He shrugs. “He was your first heartbreak, and you haven’t seen him since. This is gonna be some sort of closure, even if it’s four years later.”

“You seem awfully cool about this, considering, you know, your current girlfriend is lowkey freaking out about seeing her ex again.”

“I’m not worried,” he replies easily. “You need this closure. I wasn’t smart like you back then and actually saw my exes probably way sooner than I should’ve. Besides, I’m the one on your arm now. Not him. I’m not pressed.”

She scoffs at yet another country song playing and skips it, snorting when ‘Suburban Legends’ by Taylor Swift comes on. How fitting. “I’m definitely hyping it up in my head. It’s nothing. And Cam told me that he purposefully put us at separate tables, in case Alex says some questionable shit while drunk.”

“No worries about you saying anything questionable?”

“Compared to Alex? No way.” He snorts, amused. But he knows enough about his girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend to not push it. “I wonder if he’s bringing someone. God, I hope he is.”

“Why? Don’t want to rub it in his face that you’re happy and in love?”

“That’s mean,” she says airily. “No. I hope he’s bringing someone because I want to know what kind of girl can tolerate his ass. I did, but I was 20 and stupid. I wanna see what kind of girl can tolerate him at 26.”

“Does he know I’m coming?”

“Cam?”

He snorts. “No. Alex.”

“Who knows? Even if he does, he probably doesn’t care and isn’t overthinking it like I am.”

“I think you’d be surprised,” she looks at him, confused and he bites his lip. “Even if they play it off, guys are affected by that stuff more than you’d think.”

“What is there to be affected by?”

“You,” Jack says simply. “Not that I’m biased or anything, but you leave quite an impact on everyone you meet. And that lucky ass got to date you. As someone who also has had that privilege, I can relate a bit.”

Ashley chuckles before squeezing his hand. “Thanks for coming with me. I know your schedule is really busy with the season and everything-”

“You don’t need to thank me. Isn’t half of having a significant other just bringing them as plus ones to weddings?”

“Fair.” She leans her head on his shoulder momentarily as he pushes the sunglasses on top of his head to his face. “Thank you, though. I feel bad that you’re missing practice.”

He snorts. “Don’t.”

“They didn’t give you a hard time?”

“Not really. It’s an optional, anyways. Nico just told us to have fun and I think Lindy has a soft spot for you somehow. I’m excited. I like Cam. And I’m happy to be here with you.” He smirks, adding. “Come on, baby. Did you think I was gonna leave you to dry when your ex is gonna be there?”

“You don’t know anybody at the wedding. And Cam grew up in a hockey-loving family from Boston. There’s bound to be people who recognize you.”

“So I’m the arm candy for the night. That works perfectly for me.”

They arrive at the inn just past 1, and decide to stop by a nearby cafe to grab a quick bite. Jack decides to take a short nap before they have to start getting ready and head out while she scrolls on her phone and plays with his hair since his head is on her lap. Occasionally she finds herself staring outside the window at the water with a smile. Even if not in the summer, the Cape is beautiful.

Once it hits 4:15, she figures that she should start getting ready, but she can’t move without disturbing Jack since he’s still sleeping soundly on her lap. She gently whispers his name and presses a few kisses on his forehead as his breathing changes, groaning a bit as he stretches and opens his eyes.

“Time to go?”

“In like, an hour. I need to start getting ready.”

He hums, puckering his lips and she takes the hint, kissing him soundly twice before ushering him off her lap. She lays out the few makeup products she has, moisturizing her face before putting light foundation and concealer on. As always, she focuses more attention on her eyeshadow, deciding to add a bit of gold glitter to compliment her pink dress. She clips a matching pink bow in, liking the way it blends with the natural brown of her hair. She decides to save the lipstick for right before they leave and turns to Jack, who’s buttoning his shirt.

“What do you think?” He looks up as he’s buttoning his cuffs. “Too much glitter?” She asks.

“Never too much glitter. You look beautiful.”

She looks at his blazer and tie that he’s laid out on the bed, looking at him with minor confusion. “Since when do you own that tie?”

“Since last week when I bought it.”

She looks at where her dress is hanging. “It matches my dress.”

“Yes it does.”

She looks towards him as he tucks his shirt in, a sudden wave of love rushing through her heart. “I love you.”

He looks up and immediately walks over to her, placing a hand on her waist and kissing her. “I love you too.”

She puts on her dress quickly, smiling when she doesn’t even have to ask Jack as he comes over to help her zip it up, pressing a chaste kiss on her shoulder. His phone ringing interrupts and she brushes her hair before she puts on her accessories.

“Sup Quinny?”

Quinn’s voice crackles through Jack’s phone. “Where the fuck are you going all dressed up on a Saturday? I know for a fact you don’t have a game today, considering Luke just sent a snap of him playing Chel with Dawson 10 minutes ago.”

“I’m in the Cape, asshole. One of Ash’s friends is getting married.”

She peeks into the view of the camera and waves after putting in one earring. “Hi Quinn!”

“Oh! Hey Ash. You look beautiful.”

She beams. “Thank you!”

Jack scoffs. “I’m here too.”

Ashley leaves the brothers to catch up as she starts gathering her things and puts on her lip tint before sitting at the edge of the bed since they still have 15 minutes left before they have to head out and she’s mostly all ready to go. She chimes in once in awhile, always happy to talk to Quinn as Jack shrugs on his suit jacket, ties his matching pink tie and clasps on his watch.

“Looking good, you two.” Quinn says as they both stand in front of the phone. “Matching tie, eh? Good move, Jacky.”

“We look good enough to make an ex jealous?”

She just rolls her eyes as Quinn’s eyes lights up, immediately catching on. “Absolutely.”

“Don’t encourage him, Quinn.”

Quinn just laughs and bids them farewell as Jack smooths down his tie. She puts on her jacket and grabs her boots and slips them on. As she’s about to bend down and tie them, Jack ushers her to sit on the bed and kneels down. He does it too quickly for her to dwell too much on how much she loves him, but he probably knows, if him gently rubbing his thumb over her ankle and the kiss on the inside of her knee tell her anything.

It’s only been a little over a year, but she really does think she could spend the rest of her life with him.

They end up running into Nick in the lobby and even though it’s been…four years since she’s seen him, she corrals him into a tight hug. She introduces Jack and Nick introduces Melanie, his fiancee. The only indication from Nick that he knows who Jack is is a subtle comment that’s delivered in a way that’s so Nick it makes her heart ache — “Jack Hughes. Only Ash would show up after almost five years in the flesh with a professional athlete at a wedding where her ex is gonna be at. Always gotta do some out of pocket shit.” — and makes Jack laugh as she slaps him.

The four of them walk the short seven minute walk to the venue together, with Ashley and Nick mostly leading the conversation. She can’t remember where they left their tentative friendship in their late teens and early twenties when the world was shut down and the future looked the most uncertain it had been. Even though they don’t immediately pick up where they left off, years of rust littered in their interactions and memories, she’s extremely happy to see that he’s doing well.

(Jack’s just happy to be there, holding his girlfriend’s hand as she leads the conversation. It’s nice not having to lead for once. There’s not many situations where he’s the one tagging along)

As they enter the ceremony space, Ashley immediately sees plenty of other people she recognizes. She chuckles to herself as she realizes many of the guys are from the soccer team. It’s touching to know they still keep in touch. Logan, one of said guys, greets Nick goodheartedly, before wrangling her into a hug. As pleasantries are exchanged and people are introduced, she does feel a bit out of place. But that’s natural, reconnecting with people after so long that clearly still hang out with each other and only hear about her through sporadic updates through Cam when they ask.

Sides were chosen, even if not intentionally. Ashley’s learned to be okay with that. Even if she thinks it’s unfair that Alex got to keep a lot of their mutual friends and she didn’t.

As everyone settles down in their seats, she squeezes Jack’s hand, opening her mouth to apologize for…something. Not preparing him in giving the whole lore of how she knows all these people? How the only reason she knows the sport of soccer is so well is because of Alex? Not explaining clearly the mixed feelings of her coming to the Cape this weekend?

But Jack’s enraptured in a conversation with Logan, and she smiles. Of course. Logan played hockey back in high school as well.

(Out of instinct, Jack does squeeze her hand back though, even placing them in his lap even though he’s not looking in her direction at all)

When Alex comes into view, a pretty redhead’s hand around the crook of his elbow, Ashley starts sweating. Thank goodness she has deodorant in her bag. Jack, who’s still talking to Logan, notices, and she’s about to apologize for her clammy hands as he sends her a confused look but the nearby exclamations of Alex’s name answers his question. He just presses two kisses to her temple.

Logan, to his credit, grimaces. “You gonna be good, Ash?”

She waves his kindness away. “Of course. It’s been so long. And it’s Cam’s day.”

And it is Cam’s day, as everyone falls silent watching both sets of parents and the groomsmen and bridesmaids walk down — she chuckles when she sees Sean walking down, forgetting that he and Cam got closer in college even after going to the same high school — before grinning as Amanda walks down in her beautiful A-line, ball gown of a wedding dress. Ashley wipes a tear away watching Cam do the same and she thinks if only 16 year old them could see themselves now.

(She has a moment when she looks at Jack where her stomach flips, thinking of the day they could be the ones at the altar. She quickly focuses her attention back to the front)

Cam and Amanda are pronounced husband and wife and she cheers as he dips her and kisses her, beaming and tearing up and laughing as she hears Nick wolf-whistle. People start dispersing, the large heated patio hosting a cocktail hour before the doors to the reception hall open back up again.

While she’s sipping on a glass of wine, she hears a familiar voice calling her name and she beams, carefully making sure she doesn’t spill any wine on Sean’s tuxedo as he towers over her and hugs her tightly. He introduces himself to Jack and she watches in slight amusement as they talk.

Sean and her never really were friends, more friends by association. He was more in the popular crowd in the school that Ashley herself was never inclined to push her way through. Her and Sean shared plenty of classes together though, and always got along when forced to work together. And in another life, sometimes Ashley thinks that she would’ve had a crush on the blonde boy.

Instead, she dated one of his teammates. And, well, that turned out the way it did.

(Ashley rolls her eyes when Sean makes a comment about how it “makes complete sense that you’re the one who ended up dating a professional athlete” because sure, Sean. Sure.)

Jack may be among many Massachusetts natives who live and die for the Bruins and are not hesitant in chirping him within 5 minutes of meeting him, but he smiles genuinely as his hand instinctively finds a way on her lower back. After dating Ashley for over a year, he’s used to the good-intentioned bluntness of New Englanders. She only starts rolling her eyes when high school gets brought up and stories about her start piling up. In contrast, Jack loves this and just eggs them on, eager to hear the stories.

With a quick glance at the seating chart when they’re all starting to filter back into the reception hall, she finds that the high school crowd is split between two tables, and that Cam kept to his word and put her and Alex at different ones. The tables next to each other, but still. She won’t have to worry about making accidental awkward eye contact with him across her chicken. She’s the slightest bit surprised she hasn’t crossed direct paths with him yet. But there’s enough people that they wouldn’t ever be forced to interact. And maybe that’s for the best.

Dinner passes by without incident, Ashley squeezing both Cam and Amanda tight as they come around to toast every table as Jack gives Cam a tight bro-hug and Amanda a polite kiss on the cheek. The dance floor starts to open up, and as usual, Ashley’s one of the first ones on, dragging Jack and practically their whole table out. She feels light on her feet and happy as she leans into Jack with a big smile. He ditches his suit jacket at the table and his pink tie is loosened and she thinks he looks so handsome. She’s happily tipsy enough where the curious glances and whispers from probably the entire fucking reception hall about why an NHL player is here don’t bother her. She knows he’s used to it. She doesn’t know how.

(Jack may not know everything of the lore and context behind Ashley’s relationship with the people she knows here, but he knows her and how deeply she feels and nostalgic she can get and how that can change her perception of her own memories and how that in turn, can make her extremely self critical.

So this whole evening, he’s tried to make it as easy as possible, talking with her old friends and classmates — which isn’t much of an ask, they’re nice enough — and just squeezing her hand or waist or kissing her temple or cheek when he feels her focus trailing off. If she talks to Alex and wants him there, he’ll be right next to her. If not, he’ll make himself scarce. Whatever she wants)

Ashley’s resting at her chair while Jack’s in a casual conversation with Cam as Alex comes up behind Cam, tapping him on the shoulder. She swallows and sits up straight and Jack automatically places a gentle hand on her back. Cam and Alex exchange a few words she can’t hear before Cam turns his attention back to her and Jack feels a surge of gratitude towards Cam, who looks extremely apologetic.

Jack watches as she stands up and steps towards Alex with a small smile. “Hey.”

Alex blinks. “Hi.” She gives him a quick hug before stepping back next to Jack as he stands up. “Alex, this is Jack, my boyfriend. Jack, Alex.”

“Nice to meet you, man.” Jack says with a firm, polite handshake and he doesn’t really see (or care about) Alex’s reaction before turning back to Ashley again, trying to read her. She gives him an almost imperceptible nod. Jack’s eyes flicker to Cam, who also nods behind Alex and he clears his throat. “I’m gonna get a refill. You two want anything?”

“All good, man.”

“Rum and coke, heavier on the coke?”

“You got it,” Jack presses a quick kiss to her hair before he and Cam walk to the bar.

Jack waves to the bartender for a whiskey sour for himself as Cam gets a gin and tonic. They both lean against the counter and Jack sighs, watching Alex take Jack’s previous seat. “Was that a good idea? Leaving them alone?” Because he knows her, of course, but Cam’s known her longer. And he had a front row seat to her and Alex’s friendship before they got together, their relationship when they got together, and the fallout of their breakup.

“Honestly? I don’t know. But they’re both 26 year old mature adults.” Cam’s eyes flit over to a redhead woman a couple seats away from the bar and waves her over. Jack’s trying to remember if he’s met her tonight

“Hi Cam,” she says lightly.

“Hey yourself,” he nods over in the direction of her and Alex. “You initiate that?”

She snorts, “Of course I did.” She perches herself on a stool and sticks her hand out to Jack. “I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Francesca, but please call me Fran. I’m Alex’s girlfriend.”

Jack gives her a small smile. This is something. “Jack. Ashley’s boyfriend.”

“I’m aware,” she teases. “I grew up in Jersey and my brother’s a huge hockey fan. I’ve been to a couple of your games throughout the years.”

“Always nice to meet a fan,” He responds smoothly and genuinely. “Especially in a room filled with Bruins fans that could honestly poison my drink at any moment and I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky there are no Rangers fans here.” Cam waves him off as Jack and Fran laugh.

“What a way to meet someone for the first time,” Fran says.

“While our exes are talking for the first time in over four years?” Jack says and Fran and Cam both snort. “You could say that.”

She turns to Cam, “Cam, you can go off and mingle, you know? It’s your wedding. Jack and I will be fine here.”

Jack opens his mouth to agree but Cam just shakes his head. “It’s fine. I need a second to breathe anyways. And also make sure this doesn’t go downhill.”

“Ashley seems like a smart girl and Alex isn’t that stupid,” Fran says. “They wouldn’t make a fuss at your wedding.”

Cam sighs and Jack thinks about how thankful he is that Cam has been there for his girlfriend way before Jack even knew her. Jack then turns to Fran and asks how she and Alex met and the conversation starts there, all three of them turning to the two exes from time to time to make sure there’s no flames or glasses being thrown.

Fran talks about how she and Alex met at work and laughs in amusement when Jack explains that it was the same with him and Ashley, talking about how Ashley had been filling in for a colleague for an interview and Jack practically fell in love with her the second he saw her and had to tell himself to not sound stupid in front of the pretty girl.

And honestly, as Jack talks to Fran, he laughs to himself a bit ironically. She reminds him a bit of Ashley. A bit too much for him personally and harsh in a different way than his girlfriend, but decent company nonetheless. So maybe he and Alex are more alike than they think.

Meanwhile, the conversation happening merely 20 feet away between two exes is not as casual. Not as comfortable.

“Been a long time, huh?” Alex remarks.

Ashley tries not to scoff. “Four years.”

Alex curses under his breath. “Yeah. How are you?”

What a loaded question. She goes along with it. “I’m good.”

“Cam mentioned you’re in New York?”

“I am. Moved out there about a year after college for work. Then went to grad school there.”

“Journalist?”

She shrugs. “More or less. The title’s changed a couple times throughout the years but all in that field.”

“That’s awesome.” He runs a hand through his hair and it looks so familiar yet unfamiliar. “I still remember when you told me you got into BU. Seems like the path was always laid out for you, huh?”

She’ll have to unpack that one later. “Guess so. How about you? I heard you were in Portland. Real estate, right?”

He nods, “Yeah.”

“That’s great. I’m really glad you’re doing well.”

“Thanks.” A moment of silence there. “For what it’s worth, it is really good to see you again.”

Ashley lets out a genuine smile. Small, but genuine. “Same.”

The sound of his laughter kinda aches a bit, but not in a way that has her sad. Just nostalgic. There is some easy banter, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Ashley’s remembering a bit of why she loved him in the first place.

There’s a pause in the conversation, before she continues, “I haven’t gotten a chance to meet whoever you’re here with yet, but-”

“Fran.”

“Fran, right.” she says. “But I’ve heard a bit. How long have you two been together?”

“Are we really going to do this?”

She swallows the urge to fire back, shrugging instead. “Why not? And don’t pretend like you’re not curious about Jack either. I figured I might as well just go first.”

Alex laughs. “Around three years for Fran and I.”

“You love her?”

“I do. A lot.”

She smiles. Genuinely this time. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

“How about you and Mr. NHL Superstar?”

Again, she swallows down her instinct to fire back. “A little over a year now.”

“You happy?”

“Very.”

Alex nods once and doesn’t quite smile but has a pleasant expression on his face. “Cam said that he likes him. Which is a lot, considering I’m pretty sure he used to think that he was a cocky asshole.”

Ashley knows it’s not meant in that way because she knows that her boyfriend has somewhat of a reputation, but she gets defensive. “People aren’t always what they seem. Even if he’s a pest on the ice sometimes, he’s a wonderful guy.” You should know, she wants to say. You were the exact same way in high school.

They’re trickling into dangerous territory. She wonders if he’ll take the bait. If he does, she wonders if she’ll be strong enough not to fall for it. She wonders if he’ll apologize, not because she needs it, but because she knows she deserved one all those years ago.

Alex leans back casually, putting his arm over the empty chair next to him. “From me to Jack fucking Hughes. I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.”

Ashley doesn’t know at all how she’s supposed to take that. Like everything he’s always done, he says it casually, taking a drink of water as she’s figuring out how to respond. She doesn’t. For the first time, she feels like she doesn’t have control of this conversation.

He notices she has no response and keeps going. “Hey, he’s a decent player and the money can’t hurt. I’m glad you’re happy.”

She swallows. A gold digger? Is that really what he’s hinting at?

Ashley almost sighs in relief when she catches sight of Jack, Cam and a woman who she presumes is Fran walking back towards them. Immediately she plasters on a smile and introduces herself to Fran, because it’s not her fault that her boyfriend still has the ability to get under her skin even so many years after their break-up. Jack presses a rum and coke in her hand silently and she thanks him quietly before making small talk with Fran. Just having Jack next to her has her blood pressure lowering. Soon enough, they all but shove Cam back into his own wedding and bid farewell as Fran excuses her and Alex and heads over to chat with someone she doesn’t recognize.

Jack leads her outside of the main reception hall into one of the hallways, where there are people sporadically chatting and also getting away from the music for a second.

Jack grabs her drink and faces her with a concerned look. “Ash? You okay? It seemed to get a little…tense at times.”

Ashley shrugs and chuckles. It’s bitter though, and he knows it, immediately placing a grounding hand on her waist. “I was how I always am to everyone.”

“Sure,” he responds skeptically.

She sighs. “It was fine. I’m fine. It didn’t go badly. I don’t know if it was good. It just…was.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “It was fine. It’s not a big deal. It’s been four fucking years and it’s not like I love him anymore. I shouldn’t-”

“Hey. Stop. None of that,” Jack says softly but firmly, leaning in closer and kissing her forehead as she bites her bottom lip harshly. He holds her hand gently and presses it against his chest. “Open your eyes, baby. Take some breaths with me.”

She obeys, looking into blue eyes that have become another home for her and taking deep breaths. “Thanks.”

“Always. Wanna talk about it?”

She debates in her mind. “No. It’s a wedding. Let’s go back and have fun and dance.”

“You sure?”

She nods, before placing a peck on his lips. “I’ll probably be more in my feelings tomorrow about it. Or the next week. But for now, come dance with me.”

“Lead the way.”

Ashley doesn’t even look at Alex’s direction for the rest of the night, instead looking at Jack when she feels like the floor beneath her is gonna get pulled away. The stupidly romantic thing is, she knows he’ll catch her everytime.

three - one year and nine months

“What do you think?”

Jack looks up from where he’s sitting on her bed and his eyes pop open, jaw dropping with it. He tosses his phone to the side. “Ash. Holy shit.”

Ashley twirls around in the yellow ruffle dress. “I like this one the most, but I don’t think it’s fancy enough.”

She looks up to see him biting his lip, eyes scanning her body. She blushes as he beckons her to stand inbetween his legs. “Don’t care. You have to wear this one, please. It fits you perfectly.”

She smoothes down the ruffles. “Are you sure it’s fancy enough?”

“Honey, most of the guys probably won’t even be wearing ties,” she settles her hands in his hair. “Wear this one. I know you love it and you look beautiful in it.”

She lets out a breath. “Okay, yeah. I can pair it with those flower earrings and matching bracelet and I think Scarlett has white heels I could borrow and-”

“Woah there,” he chuckles, rubbing his thumbs on the fabric at her hips. “Did you have too much coffee today? You’re talking a million miles a minute.”

“No,” she drawls out. “I’m just…nervous? This is the first thing we’re going to that’s so…”

“Public?” He finishes for her. She nods. He pushes her gently so that she’s sitting next to him. “I get that. I’m a bit nervous too. But I’ll be there the whole time. And you’ll have my parents and Quinn. And Nico will be there too. Besides, you’re great with people. I’ve seen you in action.”

She shrugs modestly. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what is it you’re worried about?”

She swallows at his tone, because she doesn’t think he gets it. Why would he? He’s not the one that’s going to be scrutinized by his fans. At least not to the degree she would be. “Everyone else’s thoughts.”

Jack nods slowly in realization. He leans in to kiss her lips twice. She has to admit it makes her feel a bit better. His kisses usually do. “You know no one else’s opinions mean anything. Besides, it’s very clear to anyone that I’m happily taken.”

And he has a point. She’s made an appearance on his Instagram with two photos in his annual summer dump — one was just of her in the city and the other was of the two of them by the lake in Michigan — and he hadn’t tagged her, but it was clearly a message to the world that he wasn’t a single man. Social media doesn’t matter and it never will, but it had been a decision they both had come to, Jack approaching her gently and asking if he could post them.

But having it through a screen and having it in real life is different.

“I know it’s stupid,” she says. “But you know me. I don’t particularly enjoy being out of my element.”

“I know, I know,” he bumps her knee with his. “It’ll be fun though. We’ll get drunk the night before and maybe I’ll be hungover the next morning and you get to tell Luke if I do anything embarrassing.”

Ashley laughs. “That does sound fun.”

“Exactly.” He cups her face in his hands. “I gotcha, baby. Always.”

She trusts in that when she lands in Boston a few days later. She trusts in that as she gets swept in a world she’s not quite comfortable in, but finds there are a lot more similarities than differences compared to environments she’s been in. She’s a journalist after all. It’s her job in a way to blend into different lives in order to get the best and most impactful stories. She trusts in that as she’s rolling her eyes fondly at Jack, who’s chatting with practically everyone at the bar. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen this many hockey players in one room. She trusts in that as Jack then always drags whoever he’s talking to so that he can introduce her.

For someone who has always valued their privacy, Jack is making it pretty obvious that the “stunning girl in the floral shirt” is his. Ashley can’t say she hates it, even if it’s a little bold for her particular taste.

“He looks happy, doesn’t he?” Ellen asks as they both watch Jack across the room with Auston Matthews. Ashley’s cousins in Toronto would be freaking out right now.

Ashley snickers. “Drunk or happy?”

“Both?” Ellen raises her glass up to knock it against Ashley’s in a toast.

“I’ll drink to that.”

“Thank you for coming. I know it means a lot to Jack that you’re here.”

“Thank you all for having me,” Ashley responds, suddenly a bit shy. “It’s, been, uh, a bit overwhelming, to be honest.”

“I can imagine,” Ellen smiles sympathetically. “All this hockey stuff, business wise, is more Jimmy’s scene than mine.”

“Really?” Ashley thinks to all that Jack’s told her about his mother and all the warmth Ellen has emitted since they’ve met, not to mention how everyone they’ve talked to — player, coach, agent — has gravitated towards Ellen.

To her credit, Ellen chuckles. “That’s fair. Jack tells me that you know how to work a room, which is something that Jimmy’s always said about me.”

Ashley traces the rim of her glass. “I think Jack gives me too much credit.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Ellen says with a knowing smile. “I read your article the other day. The one about the family who’s had to travel across the country to get care for their child. Quinn sent it to me, actually.” Quinn read it? She doesn’t remember sending it to him. Did Jack send it to him? “It’s an incredible piece of work. How long did that take you?”

“From start to finish? Around two months.”

Ellen grins, placing a motherly hand on her shoulder. “You’re so talented, honey. I try to keep up with everything you write, but you do so much that sometimes I lose track.”

"You really don’t have to do that. But thank you, Ellen. T-that means a lot to me.”

“What does Mom not have to do?” Jack asks, squeezing himself next to his girlfriend.

“Read my articles.”

Jack grins. “Why not? They’re so good. Our family group chat is filled with them. Dad always loves your profiles.”

Ashley swallows. She’s pretty confident that the Hughes family likes her, but the fact that they all keep track of her published articles is a bit too much for her to handle right now. She downs the rest of her beer and waves Jack away when he opens his mouth to ask if she wants his. Instead, he asks the bartender for a ginger ale. Ashley’s grateful.

The next day, Ashley smiles as Jack’s walking the carpet. He’s up for the Hart trophy this year and as he squats down to greet a little boy and sign his jersey, Ashley can’t help but let her love and pride for him soar. She’s as out of the way as she can be, trying not to get overwhelmed with all the voices and flashes around her. It helps that Ellen and Jim seem to always be nearby and she makes fast friends with Nina and Luca, who are watching Nico do similar things.

She gets pulled out of her own world with a familiar hand on her waist. “Hey,” Jack murmurs into her ear.

“Hi.”

“Do you wanna jump into a few pictures with me?” Jack asks softly. “It’ll only take a few minutes. No pressure if not.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

He beams, offering an arm as he leads them over to where the photographers are. She tries not to blink too much as the flashes hurt her eyes and hopes she and Jack are looking in the same direction.

“You look beautiful,” he pairs his sincere compliment with a squeeze of her waist.

She smiles at the cameras for a few seconds before turning to him slightly. “You already said that.”

“I know. It’s worth repeating.”

Thankfully, it’s only about 30 seconds before everyone else — Quinn, Jack’s parents and Nico’s family — are being ushered in for a group photo. She finds herself inbetween Jack and Nico and giggles as Nico tries to blow his hair out of his face. She takes pity on him after a few tries and she reaches up to fix it for him quickly, Nina laughing on the other side of her brother.

“Stop messing with it,” Ashley scolds lightly through clenched teeth, smiling for the pictures. “You’re gonna make it worse.” She giggles when Nico pokes her side a few seconds later.

When Jack wins the Hart, Ashley leaps out of her seat in excitement. To her, he’s always going to be the best player she knows because she sees firsthand how hard he works, but it’s nice that his peers are recognizing it too. He places a quick kiss on her lips before going up on stage and Ashley’s clapping and laughing to herself. He was dreading having to make any sort of speech.

After the ceremony, she just follows everyone to whatever swanky rooftop seemingly the entire NHL is gathering at. She finds herself flocking towards Nina for a lot of the evening as they both exchange fun stories and memories of their own lives over drinks. Ashley thinks she could keep talking to Nina for the rest of her life. She’s just so damn cool.

The next day, she drags Jack around the BU campus and is happy pointing out buildings that she had classes in, cried in, cheered in and lived her life in. They walk from one end of Com Ave to the other, Ashley dutifully pointing out Agganis Arena (“I’m sure Trevor has some good memories in this building”), their starting point.

She stands in front of the College of Communication building and stops. Jack dutifully stops next to her. “This building kinda looks like shit.”

Ashley snorts. “Yeah, I know. Especially compared to all the science buildings.” She bites her lip. “It all started here.”

“What did?”

“The dream.”

And yeah, maybe that’s a bit dramatic. But Jack said similar things when he brought her to Toronto earlier this year, so she knows he understands.

Almost two years together now, she’s convinced that no one will really ever understand her like Jack does.

He nudges her hip with his, the breeze blowing comfortably through her hair and rustling the plants around them. They watch as a student walks through the front doors. “Wanna go in?”

She shakes her head. “Nah, I’m good.” She tugs at his hand while sipping the lavender lemonade from Pavement in the other. “Come on. I’ll show you Bay State. I lived there my junior year after I came back from studying abroad in Dublin.”

Bay State Road is beautiful as always in the Boston summer, Ashley’s hand in Jack’s. She drags him out into the middle of the road and only squeals once when a car is coming and he pulls her to the sidewalk.

Campus isn’t the same when classes aren’t in session, but she hopes Jack can still feel some of the magic in the air through her stories.

“It suits you.”

She turns to Jack. “Hm?”

“This city. It suits you.”

“Oh,” she blushes for some reason. “Thanks.”

“Do you miss it here?”

“All the time,” Ashley admits. “New York is great, but Boston will always be home.”

“Would you think of working here? If given the option?” Jack asks.

“Maybe,” Ashley squeezes Jack’s hand, “But I also have reasons to stay in New York.”

He smirks, but it quickly transitions into something gentler. “Yeah?”

She could throw something snarky back at him, but she looks around the brownstones and lets out a deep breath. This is home, but flashes of Hoboken and East Village flicker in her mind and that’s also home.

She looks at Jack and feels overwhelmed. Oh. It’s Boston. It’s Hoboken. It’s East Village. It’s him. Jack is home.

four - two years

“Big day, huh?”

Ashley just smiles at Carissa, nudging her side. “We’ve come a long way since that phone call at 2 a.m.”

Carissa just snorts. “That phone call got us here.”

“True,” Ashley squeezes her arm as they make their way to their assigned table. “Love you, girly.”

“Love you more. I’m proud of us.”

Ashley grins, looking around as everyone is mingling amongst each other. There are past award winners here and Ashley’s already done some of her internal fangirling, especially when Lynsey Addario came up to her and wanted to talk to her.

She’s still decently new in this industry and knows she has so much to learn, but it’s comforting to see that all of her hard work has paid off.

People are starting to take their seats and Ashley looks around at her colleagues. Everyone’s dressed up and looks so lovely and Ashley smiles, looking down at her midnight blue dress. When Jack had seen her walk out of the changing room in it a few weeks ago, his eyes had popped out.

(“Fuck,” he had said. “Now I’m even more pissed I can’t make it to the dinner.”)

And yeah, it would be nice if he was here. But the Devils are playing the Islanders tonight. It sucks that he’s so close but so far away, but after two years now, it’s just part of the gig. And they make it work. So Ashley isn’t too upset about it, even if Jack is.

She’s a bit confused when there is an empty seat next to her, as it seems like the ballroom is filled. There’s no nametag there either, but her attention soon drifts off to the front. She has to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling too hard.

The Pulitzer Prize Awards Ceremony at Columbia University, also her alma mater in a way. Her 18-year-old-self who was sitting in the front row of Introduction to Journalism in Boston could’ve only dreamed about this day.

Opening remarks start and Ashley really does try to listen, but her eyes glaze over as her mind drifts off. She claps as the first few awards are being presented. She thinks about all the hours that it took to get this piece down, but also all the hours before — in her classes, at her college paper, in her internships, during her job search. The times she wanted to throw in the towel and just do something else. Anything else.

“I didn’t miss too much, did I?” She blinks, turning to the voice next to her. She freezes.

“Jack?” She breathes out. She hasn’t been sleeping much this week, so this could very well be a hallucination.

He beams and she reaches to place her hand on his cheek and she realizes as she scans her eyes up and down. Oh. He’s in her favorite suit of his. And he’s here.

“Oh my god,” she wraps her arms around his neck as her whole table cheers. Thankfully, there’s a lull in the ceremony where the whole room is blanketed in a low buzz. “What the f-don’t you have a game?”

“Technically,” Jack says, nodding at her coworkers with a charming smile. “Took a personal day.”

“What? You can do that?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, like he didn’t just skip a game to be here. He rubs his thumb on her shoulder as he kisses her temple. “This is a huge deal, baby. I wasn’t gonna miss it. I’m so proud of you.”

“Lindy’s not mad? Nico’s not mad?”

Jack snorts. “The second you won, I told Lindy to count me out for the game so he can do what he wants with that. Nico’s lowkey pissed he also can’t be here.” He turns to Carissa on the other side and beams. “Hey Care. Congrats.”

“Thanks, Jack,” Carissa beams. “Surprised you pulled this off.”

“Surprised we pulled this off.”

Ashley looks at Carissa. “You knew about this?”

“Of course. Who do you think made sure he would have a seat?”

She looks between her colleague and her boyfriend. Something creeps up her throat that feels a lot like love.

When her and Carissa are recognized and they have to go up to accept the award and give a short speech, it’s kinda a blur. All she remembers is Jack’s kiss on her cheek and receiving a standing ovation as she and Carissa walk up together. So many hours with her eyes glazed over glaring at the laptop. So many hours interviewing with people and reconfirming facts. So many hours dedicated to this one piece.

She wouldn’t have it any other way.

As Carissa is speaking, she locks eyes with Jack. He’s beaming and his eyes are actually sparkling. His hair tousled and he’s so handsome and he’s hers.

(She almost trips walking back to him)

He chuckles, pulling her into another tight hug. “You’re amazing, baby. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she chokes out. “Thank you for calming me down all the times I was freaking out.”

“Of course. I’m sure all those glasses of cold water helped,” he jokes. She always said the ice cold water he would place next to her laptop would wake up her brain.

She laughs into his shoulder. “They did.”

He pulls away and just stares at her, smile still on his face. Their attention is taken away by someone who wants to congratulate Ashley and has no recognition on their face when looking at Jack.

(Jack looks on with pride)

plus one - three years and four months

Stanley Cups are interesting. Even some of the best athletes of all time have never gotten one. And some that are only slightly above average perhaps were just placed on the right team in the right season.

But this Stanley Cup, in Ashley’s completely unbiased opinion, this one was fully deserved. By every single person on the team.

She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the absolute joy in Nico’s eyes as he lifted the cup in the air to a roaring crowd at The Rock, or how long the hug between Jack and Luke was when the final whistle sounded, or seeing Ellen cry as her two sons beckoned her in for a picture with the cup, her other son and husband standing close by with pride in their eyes.

The picture of her and Jack by the cup as he’s kissing her cheek as she smiles so widely her eyes are shut might be her favorite picture of them of all time.

Ashley had wondered if Jack was going to bring the cup to Toronto or Michigan. He ended up bringing it to Toronto while Luke brought it to Michigan. It ended up being all the same, since they were both present at both.

Jack winning the Cup is obviously a huge celebration. But he’s not the only one with something to celebrate.

Yesterday, when they were out to lunch with some of his extended family, Ashley had found out by phone that she was just promoted to be a director of her team. After her phone call, she had just covered her mouth in shock as she sat down on a nearby bench. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when a concerned Jack came up to her and asked what was wrong, before she told him and he smothered her face in kisses.

The parade around his pseudo-hometown is absolutely insane. Ashley doesn’t even know how she has a voice by mid-afternoon, much less how Jack has one considering that he’s been yelling all day. At some point, she forces him to sit down and chug a giant water bottle.

But she can’t overthink too hard. Her phone’s filled with pictures of Jack with his loved ones and she just feels proud.

Some of Jack’s extended family who still live in the area offered their home to host a party that night with just friends and family. Ashley did all she could to help prepare, which included coming over to decorate the night before and parking herself in the kitchen the second they got there to offer a helping hand. Well, she tried, before every single person pushed her away and insisted she go join the celebrations.

She finds herself in a long, in-depth conversation with one of Jack’s younger cousins who’s thinking about working in media when she notices it suddenly becomes quiet. Suddenly, the light flickers off and Ashley is confused.

Jack then walks in with a circular cake with candles lit paired with his beautiful smile. Ashley blinks in confusion as everyone’s eyes fall on her and before she can ask what the hell is going on, Luke bounds over to her and swings an arm around her shoulder, shaking her.

“Congrats on your promotion, Ash!” Luke exclaims.

Her mouth drops open and she looks around as everyone in the room cheers and shouts out their congratulations. She chuckles in shock as Jack walks closer. And then suddenly, all she can focus on is him.

“What are you doing?” She whispers, suddenly wanting to cry.

“Come on,” he says with the softest smile. “You didn’t think I’d just keep the news to myself, did you?”

“But this is your day,” she chokes out.

“My day. Your day. It’s all the same, eh?” Jack nods at the candles. “Hurry up. My arms are getting tired.”

A watery laugh from her before she blows out the candles at everyone’s cheers. Jack places the cake on a nearby table before smothering her in a tight hug. Ashley’s heart could burst right now at the love she feels from the people in the room and the person in her arms. She gets a chance to really look at the cake, which is white and sage with “Congratulations Jack and Ashley!” in beautiful script at the center. The lights turn back on and Quinn’s the first one who comes up to hug her. As Ellen is giving Ashley a kiss on the cheek, she sees Jack over Ellen’s shoulder, smiling at her.

She swallows as she pulls away, before glancing at the ring on her left finger. Ashley’s never let herself want much in her life. But if someone asked her what she wants with her life, she would just place them in this room. Right here. Right now.

(They cut the cake together. Ashley feels a buzzing joy throughout her bones)

#the winter fic exchange 2k24 #k writes #hockey fanfic #hockey writing #hockey blurb #jack hughes #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #nhl #nhl writing #nhl blurb #nhl fic #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x ofc #new jersey devils

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extremelyblackandwhite · 1 year

Text

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

author’s note: sorry for the delay folks xx

masterlist

now i wish we’d never met ‘cause you’re too hard to forget while i’m cleaning up your mess i know he’s taking off your dress and i know that you don’t but if i ask you if you love me i hope you lie to me

Bucky Barnes was a great many things, a paradox in a single man, many opposite things to different people. For some he was an angel, charity driven and ready to sacrifice himself for everything and everyone. For others, he was a demon, someone who was power driven, filled with the need for success and stepping on anyone he needed to be the first and the best. No matter what both thought, all agreed on one thing - Bucky Barnes was one hell of a charmer. He’d gotten that from his mother - old high class British charm, his father used to say. That combined with his looks made him irresistible to most people. Everyone flocked to him, everyone except for Y/N. She’d vanished from his side a bit later into the night and he hadn’t seen her since. Each time he thought to look for her, someone would need him or catch his attention.

Even with all that, he couldn’t find her. Y/N was an eye catching woman, she was beautiful and if she were anywhere near he would’ve found her. Instead, she was nowhere to be found and he was starting to get annoyed. He wanted to spend the evening with her, or at least he had intended to spend the evening with her, introducing her to the right people who could help her. He continued listening to whoever was talking to him right now - truth was, he wasn’t even sure who that person was. He just usually smiled and kept up simple talks, that was what was required of him so he would gladly keep doing it as long as it yielded results.

As for Y/N, she had almost forgotten who she was here with. Christopher Davis was someone who she always could picture herself with. He was smart, well spoken, well mannered and seemed to have an interest on her. Besides, he had gone through the same thing as her back at Columbia.

- I’m just saying Professor Williams is a pain. - Chris laughed as Y/N explained what her supervisor had said. - If Professor Anderson likes you then you must be a bright student.

- Or maybe I’m just really daft.

- I don’t think so. - he smiled. - Sergeant Barnes doesn’t employ someone who doesn’t have promise.

- Except I don’t work for him ... I mean, not like you work for him, I’m just an au pair. I reckon the only criteria was are you a threat and are you good with children.

- How is it working with Sergeant Barnes if you don’t mind me asking?

Chris looked at her and then back at James whom he didn’t notice had been staring them down until now. He sighed, putting on his best smile, after all, he was trying to impress this girl.

- He’s uptight and a bit controlling but I guess you have to be if you want things to run smoothly. Specially when you work in advertising.

- That’s most CEOs isn’t it?

- Yes but James Barnes is .. different. Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like a disgruntled employee.

- That is fine. Sergeant Barnes has got me on my nerves every once and again?

- Is that so? - Y/N felt the blood drain from her face as she turned around to face her boss. She wasn’t afraid of him per say, but she also knew, she just knew he would probably be pissy for the rest of the evening. - Good evening Y/N, Mr. Davis.

- I will see you tomorrow, Y/N. - Chris smiled at the au pair.

To say Y/N was over the moon was a massive understatement. He liked her, at least she thought he liked her enough to invite her out. She didn’t think she still had it within her, she was usually busy looking over Sadie or with her postgraduate studies - that didn’t give her enough time to think about her sex and love life. That being said, maybe that explained why she was having the weird dreams and fantasies about James; familiarity. Right? It had to be that.

Bucky on the other hand felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Chris was ... well, he didn’t know that much about Chris other than he came from money yet he couldn’t even blame him from that since he had come from money as well. He was just boring, Bucky found him boring. He didn’t take risks, at least not enough risks for someone who worked at advertising. He played it safe. It worked, but it wasn’t revolutionary. Still, Bucky didn’t like him. He definitely didn’t like him for Y/N either. Y/N was smart, innovative, caring and another bunch of positive adjectives which were too long to list. Chris was just boring.

- So how’s that lady? - Y/N broke the silence between the two of them, a bit tipsy on the champagne which she wasn’t used to drinking.

- What lady?

- Delilah? - she looked up through her dizzy, tipsy mind, before snapping her fingers. - Delia. Yeah, that’s her name. How is Delia?

- You would know if you weren’t busy flirting with my employees.

- Oh so you can flirt but I can’t?

- Not when you’re with me. You’re embarrassing yourself and humiliating me.

- But I’m not here with you, am I, sergeant? I am not your date, am I?

- No. - he smiled forcefully. - However if I were going to flirt with someone I would pick someone less boring.

- You work in advertising, Sergeant. Everyone is boring.

(...)

Bucky had never spent a whole night alone with Sadie, not when she was awake. Yet, here he was, left behind by his au pair so she could go and date boring Chris while he had to deal with a very hyper Sadie who was running around as if it wasn’t 8 o’clock yet. He usually had a babysitter or he had Y/N, or Steve yet right now he was by his lonesome. He thought she would’ve settled down if he played princesses, yet, she did not. Instead Bucky now had knotted hair, glitter on his face and probably some on his eye and permanent marker on his neck. He had finally given up and done the worse thing in the eyes of every parenting book - he’d given her a tablet loaded with all the Bluey seasons. Meanwhile he’d taken to watching re-runs of Mad Men.

- Bed? - he asked the curly haired ginger who looked up at him, her hair in front of her face. - I’ll give you 10 dollars?

- No. - she replied before looking back at her tablet. Bucky sighed, looking up at the ceiling. Soon the terrible twos would be done and he’d have the terrifying threes.

- 20 dollars? - he said once again but she ignored him. He sighed, how come Y/N managed to do this? - Sadie, you can either go to bed or you can be tired tomorrow and not go to the park with Y/N. Choose.

She looked at him with the death stare which she had inherited from him, but eventually got up, grabbing his hand. Bucky smiled, picking her up and walking to her bedroom. He pushed the sheets from her bed, carefully rolling her to her mattress before tucking her in, handing her a Bingo plushie.

- You want a story, babe? - he asked her, brushing her curls away from her forehead. - No?

- Light?

- I’ll turn your little moonlight on. - he kissed her forehead. - I love you, Sisi bug.

She smiled at him and it was enough for him to know she meant she loved him too. He tucked her once more before turning off the main light, leaving the room softly lit by the nightlight. Slowly and softly he went up the stairs, grabbing a wick basket and started collecting toys onto it. She had too many toys, still he wouldn’t stop buying them. As he finished it, Bucky sat back down on the couch. He was annoyed. Why did she even go out with that prick? The only thing they had in common was an alma matter and god knows Chris was a legacy student so it wasn’t like he tried as hard to get into university like Y/N had. God, he hated him. Hated how bland and boring he was.

He toyed around with the remote, trying to find something that would get his head out of the idea of goddamn Christopher Davis trying to get her out of the practically translucent dress she had been wearing. Bucky could swear she did it on purpose, just to show off to him in those strap heels and short sheer black dress like a temptress. He changed channels once more, hoping he’d find something ... maybe a pay per view porn channel or something. Yet nothing took his mind of his au pair, his employee who he should have some professionalism with, and that stupid lacy bra he could make out under that dress. Dressing up like that for goddamn Davis.

He stared at his phone, watching as hours passed yet nothing fulfilled. Eventually, Bucky made a mistake, a huge, massive mistake. A mistake which fulfilled itself as he opened the door to show Delia. He handled things badly but right now he needed his fill.

His lips attacked hers as they stumbled towards the bedroom, Bucky locking the door behind him. This was a bad habit, a terrible habit but her lips felt good, her taste was tempting and Bucky wasn’t the one to have good habits. However, today, things were ... different. Her lips leaving lipstick marks on his neck didn’t feel the same. Maybe this was a mistake. He shouldn’t really have a woman in the house when his daughter was asleep upstairs.

- Are you alright? - Delia pulled away from him.

Bucky blinked, he had to be going ... stir crazy. Maybe he’d drank a bit too much whiskey but her features morphed and he could swear that in place of the woman he usually called whenever he needed release, stood the woman he wanted to be here now. The sheer dress a vivid memory in the back of his mind. He ignored her question, moving to kiss her neck and putting his hand over her mouth. His fantasies took full front stage as his mind drew a different reality.

All he could see was her, red lips open wide with soft, high pitched moaned as he kissed down her body, doing away with her dress and her underwear. He wanted to mark her, he wanted to mark this vision of a woman he craved. His hands found the top of his joggers, pushing it down as if he were a horny mess. His cock was painfully hard, slapping against his stomach as he stood over her, this vision of Y/N. All he could think of were all the times she saw her, the outline of her breasts, her collarbones. He didn't pace himself, instead lining up with the woman's entrance before he gripped her hips and slide himself in, without much a second of though. The feeling made him grown, he was insane he reckoned, insane because he knew this wasn't her but all he could see is her. The soft moans, the contracted muscles. He fucked her hard and rough until he felt his release approach. Once he did, he slide himself off, jerking off and coming on her stomach, rolling to the side of the bed. He stared at the ceiling fan of the guest bedroom, his mind lulling him back to reality ... all he could think when that moment was once simple thing - Fuck Chris Davis.

(...)

Y/N didn’t spend the night. He noticed that in the morning as he was getting prepared from work and saw her walk in, with her dress crimped and hair barely brushed. His blood bubbled. If she wanted to fuck old money, she could’ve fucked him.

- Had your release? - he knew he was being mean now, just looking to stir the pot. - Fun night?

- Why? Need some new jerking off material? - she crossed her arms, speaking in a manner and language that almost made him spit his coffee. - Who’s taking Sadie to school?

- Well, if you can still walk I’d say he did a pretty shit job, huh?

- I guess I’m taking Sadie to school. - she rolled her eyes. - And it’s none of your business.

- Well my employee is fucking another one of my employees. Maybe you should go to HR.

- Maybe I should and tell them that the boss is acting like an ass. Are you seriously still upset at me that I flirted with someone at your weird benefit? I’m single, I’m allowed to flirt!

- Not with Chris Davis. Seriously, Y/N, get a better taste in men.

- Because you have such a great taste in women. - she poured herself a cup of coffee. - Since you’re dressed, maybe you should take Sadie to school and see your favourite ego boosting group the PTA mums.

- Maybe I will.

- Picking Sadie up from school or do you want me to?

- Steve’s picking her up.

- Steve?

Steve.

////////////////////////////////////

taglist : @talesofadragon @themermaidscales82 @winters1917 @vladsgirlxx

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan imagine #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky/reader #bucky x reader #bucky/you #bucky x you #bucky/y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky smut

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fettuccin-e · 1 year

Text

The Wonderful Way Things Change

A/N: hi there everyone... shamefully, very shamefully, I have not posted anything original since i think like february. it was an unplanned hiatus! promise it was completely unplanned, this semester just really kicked my ass lol. BUT HERE WE ARE! with matt smut of course how could I not because he is the loml so please enjoy! love you!

Description: Based off this ask, and can be read as a loose sequel to this (my first ever fanfic oh boy oh boy). In which Foggy calls you to check in on Matt, and the sight of your boyfriend all disheveled in a suit is making you a tad desperate. Thankfully, neither of you have the self-control to keep your hands to yourselves.

Tags: Matt Murdock x Reader, afab!fem!reader, no use of y/n, smut like so much smut who do you think I am, fucking Matty in a suit, oral (f!recieving), unprotected piv (pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids) (w/c: 2.5K)

Yours and Matt’s relationship is new, somewhat, but you both know that it’s been a long time coming. It’s only been a few weeks since he finally kissed you for the first time, since he healed your poor, pining heart. It’s not like other relationships you’ve had, with the talking stage at the beginning, where you’re still asking each other about your childhoods, favorite movies, and songs. You and Matt already know everything about each other.

He knows about your shitty job that you hate but manages to pay the bills. He knows all about your childhood, all of your hopes and dreams. Up until a few weeks ago, the only secret you’d kept from him was your frankly ridiculous crush on him.

But you know that it’s the same way for him. You already know about Daredevil, and to Matt’s unending surprise, you accept him, love him for who he is. You don’t want him to give up either side of himself; you’re happy to just have him. Matt is still trying to get used to the feeling of actually having you, instead of just being by your side, letting you slip through his fingers.

Up until a few weeks ago, Matt had resigned himself to only being your friend. The friendship he’d found in you at Columbia would remain just that. Unbeknownst to him, you’d resigned yourself the exact same way. But a misunderstanding and a frustrated and ridiculously dramatic love confession later, you’d finally kissed him like he’d only dreamed of. You’d allowed him to touch you like he’d always wanted, and Matt could swear that he’s never felt anything softer, never tasted anything sweeter than you.

So the relationship is new, but it also feels like you and Matt have just been waiting, settling into routines like you’ve been together for years. You know how Matt is, how he’ll bury himself into cases and recordings and court documents, searching for that one bit of evidence that proves his client is innocent. He sends Foggy and Karen home on nights like these, insisting that they need to sleep, that they work too hard as is.

“He’s gonna be there for hours,” Foggy tells you over the phone. “You’ve gotta get him out of there or he’s going to collapse.” You laugh, pulling on your coat and stepping out of Matt’s apartment.

Ever since you had both confessed your feelings for each other, and Matt had finally, finally taken you to bed, you had more or less moved in. It hadn’t been intentional, nor had Matt officially asked you, but the one time you had broached the subject of maybe sleeping at your own apartment, Matt’s arms had wrapped around you, holding you to him while he pressed desperate kisses all over your face and neck, telling you that his apartment was so cold without you there.

“C’mon, sweetheart, haven’t we spent more than enough time apart?” he had murmured, and you had agreed.

“Yeah, alright Fog, I’m heading over there now. I’ll make sure you have a well-rested partner by tomorrow,” you giggle into the phone, and you laughed even harder at Foggy’s genuine sigh of relief.

“Christ, how did Nelson, Murdock and Page survive without you and Matt together?”

“It’s truly a mystery, Foggy,” you tease, and Foggy laughs with you. He keeps you on the phone the entire walk to their office building, filling you in on the cases he, Karen, and Matt are working on. You could talk to Foggy for hours, really, but he lets you go as you walk up the steps to their offices. With a promise to talk soon, maybe take a trip to Josie’s, you hang up, shoving your phone into your coat pocket.

You can hear the recording Matt is listening to through the door to his office, some judge droning on and on. You enter the room quietly, heart beating wildly at Matt in his sharp suit, without his glasses, hair mussed from his fingers running through it the way they usually do when he’s working through a case. You watch as a smile blooms across his pretty lips, his eyes lifting to your direction as he pauses the recording.

“Hi, baby,” he says, and his sheer beauty in that moment nearly brings you to your knees. This man, with his hair sticking up in every direction, his tie slightly loosened at his chest, big brown eyes and wide smile is yours. All yours. You can’t help how your heart beats even harder at the thought.

You watch his grin meld into a knowing smirk as he listens to the quick pattering of your heartbeat. “Something got you worked up, sweetheart?”

You hum, crossing the room to where he sits in his office chair. “Oh, you know,” you drawl, trying to keep your voice coy and light, even though you know that your heart is giving away your sudden desperation for the man in front of you. “I’m just thinking about all of the things I get to do now.”

“To me?” He’s playing coy too, trying to goad you.

“Always to you, Matty,” you giggle, and he chuckles in return. You swing a leg over his lap, straddling him and relishing in how his chuckle morphs into a choked gasp.

“What- What kinds of things, gorgeous?” his voice is breathier now, beautifully affected by your actions.

“Just how I can do things like this,” you wrap your hand into his tie, tugging him towards your mouth. “And things like this-” you breathe over his mouth, before capturing his pretty, enticing lips with your own.

Matt groans into the kiss, smoothing his hands over your hips before reaching behind you to grab your ass in his big, thick hands, tugging you further up his lap. Your clothed pussy rests just over the bulge of his cock through his slacks, and you can feel it thickening beneath you.

“And you call me worked up, Matty?” you murmur against his mouth, wiggling in his lap and pulling a soft moan from his lips.

“When my gorgeous girlfriend walks into my office, smelling like my apartment and so fucking soft on top of me,” he says, squeezing your ass again, “how can you expect me to be calm, baby?”

Your stomach bursts into butterflies at the title. You’re his girlfriend. He’s your boyfriend. It feels so very juvenile, like you’re twenty years old again and still trying to get through calculus class. Maybe it’s because you’ve been waiting that long. Waiting for him, since you first met him and Foggy at Columbia. It feels so far away now, so different, and yet, you still burn bright and warm with Matt’s attention on you. Calling you his girlfriend.

He shifts his hips under yours, the bulge of his thick cock against your pussy impossible to ignore, and you whine, just barely, but Matt hears. Of course he does.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “So fucking needy.” He lurches forward again to press his lips to yours, licking into your mouth.

“Please, Matty,” you whisper, and he groans into your mouth all over again. He doesn’t separate his mouth from yours as he lifts you against him, using a hand to brush the cumbersome documents and files off the desk behind you, before laying you softly against it, running his hands over your waist and kissing you like you’re something precious.

But you are, Matt knows that you are the most precious thing in the fucking world. And you want him. Matt can hardly believe it sometimes; he still sometimes thinks he’s dreaming when he feels you in the morning, pressed tight against him, your heart calm and steady with sleep.

He licks into your mouth like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, and what a way to go. He could stay in this moment forever, kissing you while your hands tangle into his hair. But your sexy little whines are echoing around him, your hips moving in desperate little circles against the aching bulge in his slacks.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he whispers, and you just whine louder. It’s a nearly painful thing, taking his lips from yours, but he can fucking smell your arousal, and the need to dive between your thighs is suddenly too much for him to handle.

You kind of want to cry when Matt breaks your kiss, but your mourning at the loss of his lips is quickly cut short by his thick, calloused hands pushing your skirt up your thighs, leaving the material to bunch around your waist. He nudges his nose against your clit through your panties, taking a deep breath in through his nose, savoring it, and you nearly black out.

“Oh- oh my God,” you stutter, and Matt smirks in that ridiculously cocky way you hate that you love.

“I mean, I go by Matt, but if you want to call me God-” Matt starts, tugging your panties down your legs.

“Matthew Michael Murdock, I swear-” You want to continue, you really do, but it’s really hard to keep your train of thought when Matt is leaning down and licking a long stripe up your soaked pussy, swirling around your clit and making your hips buck up uncontrollably. He quickly braces a forearm over your twitching body, holding you still with his strength while he eats your pretty cunt.

“So fucking wet for me, gorgeous,” he mutters between your thighs, the vibrations feeling like shockwaves up your spine. “So pretty, baby, could’ve been eating this pretty cunt since college.”

You can barely form a sentence, only able to utter out whines of Matt, Matt Matt, between desperate moans as he licks into you. You can feel him grinning into your cunt, knowing he’s driving you fucking crazy, before he’s drawing up to capture your throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks. He brings his free hand up to sink a thick finger into your needy entrance, crooking it up and pressing into a spot inside that makes white creep into the edges of your vision. He just sucks and sucks, swirling his tongue around our achy clit and playing with you like a toy.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, unexpected and brutal, and you would have thrashed off the desk if it weren’t for Matt’s strong arms holding you steady. He carries you through it, licking at you softly while he keeps his finger inside, giving your pussy something to clutch onto. As your hips finally stop twitching, Matt rises, leaning over you again, and you can’t help but tug at his tie again, dragging his mouth to yours, uncaring of the taste of your pussy covering his lips.

“Please fuck me, Matty, oh god, please. Need you in me, baby,” you whine, and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed at how needy you sound. Matt groans, sounding just as desperate as he licks into your mouth. He takes his hands from your body to reach down, undoing his belt and slacks just enough to tug his aching cock out. He’s so hard it’s nearly painful, the head sticky and red and throbbing with the need to fuck you. To claim you.

You wrap your arms over his back, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as he sinks into your sensitive pussy. As he finally bottoms out, you lean back to look at him, at his big eyes staring just off your face, his mouth slightly agape.

“I thought about this, y’know,” you whisper, your nails digging into his back as he presses just a bit deeper inside. “Every time I brought you guys lunch, I-” you moan softly as Matt thrusts, hard and so fucking deep you swear you swear you can feel him in your guts. “I thought about you, fucking me on this desk, in-in this fucking suit, god, Matt.”

“Shit, baby,” he grunts, rocking into you so hard the desk rattles beneath you. You can barely pay attention to it, not when the tip of Matt’s thick cock is grinding into the spot inside you that makes you scream, your nails digging into the soft fabric covering his back. “I thought about you too, god, you have no idea, sweetheart.” You can only whine in response as he continues, “You’d bring us all lunch, wearing your little uniform, fuck, with that pretty skirt and those heels.”

Matt’s hands tighten over your hips, forcing you to meet him thrust for thrust, and it’s so fucking good. You can’t manage to answer him through your desperate whines of his name and choked moans as his thick cock stretches you out for him, but Matt’s still talking. You don’t know if he can stop.

“I could hear your thighs brushing together under that tight fucking skirt, your heels clicking up the hall, and all I could think about was ruining you. Ripping that skirt off you and making you beg for my cock,” he grunts, driving desperately into your soaked pussy. Your head is swimming, drowning in Matt’s words, his scent, his cock.

“Now I can, baby,” he grunts, voice breaking on a choked moan. “I can fuck you just how I’ve wanted, make this pretty pussy soak my cock. Can wake up to you in my bed, fuck you whenever I want, whenever you want, baby, fuck I’m yours. You hear me, angel? I’m yours.” Matt can feel your pussy fluttering desperately around his cock, and snakes a hand between your bodies to press a thumb over your clit.

He leans over you, his tie loose and dangling over your face as he growls, “and you’re mine. Mine.”

And you’re gone, pussy tightening like a vice around Matt’s thick cock, screaming his name. Little tears escape your eyes, dripping down your cheeks as Matt groans your name in return, hips stuttering into yours and flooding your overwhelmed pussy with his cum. You can hear him, just barely, through the roar of blood in your ears as he whispers, “So good, baby, so perfect. Love you so much, so much, you have no idea. I love you, loved you for so fucking long, angel.”

You bring your hands up to tangle your fingers into his soft hair, bringing him to your lips, whispering a soft “I love you so much, Matty,” in return before meeting him in a soft kiss. His smile against your mouth is blinding, endlessly joyful, and slightly delirious.

He’s still buried inside you a few minutes later, when you finally whisper, “I’m not sure this is what Foggy had in mind when he sent me over here.”

“If this is what Foggy had in mind, I might have to send him a fruit basket, or buy him a round,” Matt chuckles, and you smack him lightly on the shoulder before you’re laughing too. Matt smiles, unable to believe that you’re his, before he cuts your giggling off with a loving kiss.

#hey I'm back #with daredevil smut #what else did you expect #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock smut #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil fanfiction

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comphy-and-cozy · 8 months

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love it if we made it - mat barzal

Pairing: Mat Barzal x OC (f)

Summary: Aurora Foster and Mat Barzal are friends. Sometimes with benefits, sometimes with unspoken feelings, but always with a little something extra. When they have the opportunity to close the cross-country gap between them, will they be able to overcome the skinny love and take their relationship to the next level?

Word Count: 9.2K

Author's Note: My first ever Barzal fic written for @thewintersoldierdisaster for @wyattjohnston's Winter Fic Exchange! You are such a talented writer and I really wanted to make this a good one - I hope I managed to get the Garden City details covered correctly. 😉 It was a blast to write for someone new even though I am still reluctantly slowly joining the Barzy train. Enjoy, my dear! Thank you to @smileysvech, @pyotrkochetkov, @jostystyles, and @Demi for all of your help in brainstorming, editing, sending inspirational Barzy pics, and the usual general insanity. Couldn’t do it without y’all. Also, just for the record, Mat has hair in this entire fic. No bald Barzy allowed.

Warnings: Mutual pining, angst, alcohol use (characters get drunk), Mat being a bit of a fuckboy. Smut (18+ ONLY); unprotected sex, general sexual tension/sexual themes. Masterlist

July 2013 - Vancouver, British Columbia

The crackling of the fire melds with the gentle splash of waves on the shoreline, crickets chirping happily amid the cool summer breeze. Smoke billows up, wafting to a deep sky sparkling with stars, not a cloud in sight.

Aurora Foster watches the flames, absorbing the warmth on her legs. There’s a blue koozie on the armrest of her Adirondack chair, holding a Diet Coke. She allows herself to sink into the warm, worn cotton of her Burnaby Winter Club sweatshirt, sighing contentedly.

“Anyone want more pizza? I’ve gotta rock a piss.”

Rolling her eyes, Aurora scoffs as the rest of the group murmurs no’s. “Charming, Fabbs.”

The next voice that rings out is clear. “Anyone wanna go for a late night dip?”

“Yeah, I’ll go.” This time of night is Aurora’s favorite time for a swim, when the lake is all but glass and the water feels like a lukewarm bath; not warm, but certainly not cold after spending a day baking under a bright British Columbia sun.

There are no other takers, so she looks expectantly across the fire. His dark hair is shaggy, unkempt, air-dried after a day in the lake. His brown eyes lock with hers, and he jerks his head toward the dock with a grin. “Race you.”

Mat Barzal.

A name that holds the burden of promise. He’s going to be drafted in a few years, to the Show—and he’s going to be good. Not I’m just saying that because he’s my friend and I’m supposed to say that—no, he’s going to be good, potentially even great.

Here, though, he’s just Mat. He feels weird about the weight his name is starting to hold, not really knowing what to do with the slight level of fame. He’s made a vow to himself that whatever happens, he won’t let it get to him, won’t let it change the fabric of who he is—this guy, right here, feeling the warm breeze through his hair as sprints down the wooden dock, two smaller feet pattering rapidly behind him.

“You first,” he grins, gesturing toward the ladder.

“What if there’s a big monster waiting right there and it eats me?”

“I’ll jump in and save you,” he says, like there’s no hesitation. He glances down to double check that there is no actual sign of danger. Aurora doesn’t notice, her eyes also on the dark water, illuminated only slightly by the brightness of the moon.

“You promise?”

“I promise.” The way he says it is so sure that it actually comforts her for a split second, enough time for her confidence to reach the appropriate level to jump in with a splash.

Her body is immersed in cold for the briefest of seconds before she’s enveloped in warmth. The splash next to her tells her that Mat has joined her beneath the water. He rises to the surface a few moments later, letting out a scoff as he shakes out his hair.

“Shit. You like this?” he asks, swimming out toward the trampoline floating a few meters away.

“It’s nice!” she says, following him. “Refreshing.”

“It’s cold.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a big macho hockey player?”

He ignores her with a roll of his eyes, rising back out of the water to climb the ladder to the trampoline. Aurora opts to swim around a while longer, feeling the weight of the water gliding over her skin. It’s nice, heavenly even, how the water makes her weightless.

When she approaches the trampoline, the blast of cool air against her wet skin makes her shiver, goosebumps instantly covering her body. Mat glances at her, sees the way her arms have wrapped around herself in an attempt to warm herself. He extends an arm, his own skin almost dry. “C’mere.”

His arm curls around her frame, warmth of him already heating her skin. He’s not sure if it’s his heart or hers that he can feel beating—maybe it’s both, beating in a steady, sure rhythm next to one another.

Aurora’s toes nudge his, the gesture comfortable and affectionate; a silent thank you.

June 2018 – Vancouver, British Columbia

By all accounts, it’s a normal Thursday evening in June; Aurora’s housemates are getting ready to go out to the bar—there are plugged-in curling irons, loose cans of hairspray, scattered makeup brushes all over the counter alongside an assortment of cups in varying stages of empty. A half-full fifth of Smirnoff is there too, the cap misplaced somewhere.

On any other occasion, Aurora would be right there with them, blasting Taylor Swift and chattering about if Brad will finally make a move on Carley. Tonight, though, she’s opted out in favor of spending the night on the couch in her favorite sweatpants. Just not feeling a bar tonight, she’d said.

The silence when the door finally closes behind her friends is almost deafening; she hadn’t realized how loud it was in the chaos of the pre-night-out ritual. With a contented sigh, Aurora plops down on the couch and tugs a blanket over her legs, opening Netflix and starting an episode of New Girl.

She's part way through her second episode and her first glass of wine when she gets the text.

[Mat:] what’s the play tn

Mat. Of course. He’s home for the summer now, back after his first year in Long Island, and recently returned from winning the Calder trophy. Aurora still had a hard time connecting that this Mat, the one that she’s known since they were 12, the one who she grew up hearing make stupid dick jokes with his friends, is the same one that just won Rookie of the Year in the National Hockey League.

Instead of typing out a message, Aurora snaps a photo of the wine glass in her hand and blanket in her lap with the TV in the background. It doesn’t take long for the response bubble to pop back up, and soon enough the whoosh of an incoming text sounds.

[Mat:] want some company?

Aurora’s heart freezes in her chest. She hasn’t spent any time alone with him since that sorority formal her sophomore year, the one she bribed him to attend with her so she wasn’t the only girl without a date. It was platonic—that didn’t even need to be discussed—and it had been nice to have a familiar figure by her side; it didn’t hurt that he was starting to make a name for himself in the hockey world as a top draft pick headed for the NHL.

What started as a simple, friendly night ended with her leg wrapped around his waist, leaning against the bathroom door of the venue, moaning his name. She didn’t know how they ended up there, but what she did know was that it was passionate, mind-boggling, life-altering sex.

At least, to her it was. He’d never mentioned it since.

At first, it lingered on the tip of her tongue every time he was around, waiting to be blurted out when the sinking confusion became too much to bear. But one month, two months, three months passed, with no recognition or acknowledgement that anything happened between them.

For a while, she began to believe that she’d dreamt it; that her mind conjured the hottest, dizziest, most viscerally real dream possible. But then she’d see his eyes flick to hers during the sex scene in a movie and feel the spark of electricity when his hand would brush hers. Just briefly, but enough for her to confirm that no, she didn’t imagine it all.

Needless to say, Aurora can’t help the rising suspicion at the seemingly random text. Surely, he couldn’t be thinking about one night years ago when he had the pick of any girl he wanted at his fingertips.

Before she can stop herself, she's typing ‘bring chocolate’ and soon, she hears her front door open. There’s a shuffle, the sound of shoes being shrugged off, before that handsome face is rounding the corner. His eyes land on her in an instant, a predatory gaze simmering behind an unassuming smile. In his hand is a plastic bag from which he fishes out a pack of peanut M&M’s, tossing them at her.

Aurora squeals, eagerly tearing open the packet and immediately tossing three into her mouth. After an expectant eyebrow raise from him, she heaves herself off the couch with a dramatic sigh and runs the short distance to him before launching into his arms.

“Thank you, Matty,” she says, voice muffled by the black Acme sweatshirt he’s wearing. He’s warm. And big—bigger than he was before he left for New York. “And congratulations.”

He hums a response, following her as she resumes her spot, this time making room for him beside her. “You didn’t want to go out tonight? Celebrate that enormous trophy?”

Mat shrugs, placing her feet in his lap and securing the blanket over both. “Could take it or leave it. Can’t leave you to be home alone and bored.”

She rolls her eyes and nudges his leg with her foot. “Shut up. You didn’t have to come over.”

“Honestly, I need a break after that media circus,” he confesses. “So much press, so many questions, so many pictures. It’s exhausting.”

Aurora nods understandingly, though she can only imagine being put on public display the way he is day in and day out, the attention only heightened now that he’s won the Calder. She’s seen the pictures, the articles, all of the buzz, feeling a slight tinge of jealousy—not of him, but that she has to share him with the rest of the world now.

Mat settles in, and casual conversation filters in amidst the episode, pausing at moments to hear the dialogue before another one of them is adding commentary or snorting at someone’s Instagram story. It’s so casual, so normal, his place beside her on the couch; like finally finding that one pivotal puzzle piece she’s been looking for for hours. He’s calm, relaxed, and once again she begins to wonder if she’s been creating something out of nothing this entire time. If the flood of nerves in her chest is an overreaction.

“You still seeing that frat guy? Tim, or whatever his name is?”

The question comes out of nowhere. Aurora can’t help but wonder if she detects a hint of jealousy.

“Was never really seeing him,” she replies, leaving a heavy pause, enough time for him to fill in the blanks. It’s true, but maybe she chose her words intentionally, curious to see if that lilt in his tone really was jealousy.

He doesn’t react much outside of a nod and an over-engineered nice, but she sees the very slight tick in his jaw. She resists the urge to roll her eyes, instead supplying, “You really gonna give me shit, Mr. Hot-Shot-NHL rookie?”

“Listen,” he grins, “it’s not my fault there’s a million single girls in New York.”

This time, Aurora does roll her eyes, if only to hide the sting she feels deep in her chest. She wouldn’t say she has feelings for Mat Barzal, but—well, it’s complicated. It’s always been there, buried deep beneath the surface, veiled as fond affection for a friend who’s grown by her side since they were 12.

“But none of them are as pretty as you.”

Aurora has to laugh, can’t help but laugh, rather than feel the discomfort that sinks in when she processes what he said. He’s always like this—these seemingly harmless, flirty comments—but those are the ones that keep his hooks latched into her, keeping her coming back for more, dangling by a single thread of hope.

“Don’t be a dick.”

“M’not. You’re so pretty it hurts.”

She moves to kick him—playfully, mostly—but his hand catches her foot in an instant. Before she has a chance to protest, barely processing the evil grin that hatches on his face, he’s tickling her arch. Aurora shrieks, legs flailing in protest, doing her best to scramble out of his grasp. Mat’s laugh is mirthful as his strong arms easily overpower her, hands moving to her hips to pin her to the couch.

“You’re gonna—” he pauses to wrestle her down, “—hurt yourself.”

“Fuck off,” she shouts playfully, hands shoving wildly at his hands in a weak attempt to stop him from tickling at her sides. “I—I hate you!”

In a flash, Aurora finds her arms pinned above her head, large hands pressed into her wrists. She shrieks again, but the laughter dies in her throat when she realizes he’s paused, hovering over her. Her legs stop their thrashing, breath caught in her throat while her heart thumps in her chest. She isn’t sure how long they sit like that, frozen in time, staring at one another; she wonders if he’s thinking the same thing she is, flashing back to the night spent inside the dimly lit bar bathroom.

And then he’s kissing her, desperate, his open mouth pressed against hers. It consumes her, the feeling of his lips, in a way that makes her wonder how she’s survived the last two years without his touch. The thought of stopping is unthinkable, unfathomable, unbearable.

Mat’s hand slides down her arm to cup her jaw, thumb brushing against her cheekbone while his tongue finds hers. With her now free hand, Aurora instinctively moves to run her fingers through his hair, soft and smooth. It’s long, long enough that she can wrap the locks around her knuckles, offering a firm hold that has him exhaling lowly against her mouth.

With just the simplest, subtlest move, Aurora’s flipped the switch inside of Mat that transforms him from doting, passionate lover to desperate and unrestrained. His lips pivot to nip at the base of her jaw, offering a subtle bite on his way down to her neck.

She can hear his heavy breath, feels it hot against her skin. His palm draws warmth up her side, rucking up her t-shirt to expose her bare stomach before his hand dives beneath the hem of the cotton to press flat against her ribcage. It’s shameful how quickly Mat can render her little more than a lolling, whimpering mess, back arched eagerly to chase his touch; she wants to kick herself for giving in so easily.

His hands move in tandem with his mouth, caressing, kneading, aiding her slow descent into madness. When he tugs the cotton over her head, grateful there’s no bra impeding his view, Mat swoops down to her breasts like a starving man getting his first taste of food; with a groan, his tongue swipes over a pebbled nipple.

Aurora’s afraid to say his name, afraid that if she calls attention to the moment, he’ll snap out of it and stop.

And she can’t have that.

Hands roam, chased by hot breath and wet kisses, until she’s all but naked on her living room couch, as if she lives alone and doesn’t have roommates that could come home at any given moment.

He doesn’t even bother to take her panties off, instead ripping them to the side and wetting his tip with her slick, teasing her folds for just a moment.

Mat pauses at her entrance, breath heavy in his chest. His eyes trail up to hers, and Aurora’s heartbeat ticks, afraid he’s going to change his mind right now, when she needs him more than she’s ever needed anything in her life.

And then his eyes slink over her body with a smirk, admiring her breasts, her curves, the way her legs have wrapped around his hips—when did that happen? Mat’s dick twitches when he realizes he has nowhere to go but inside the dripping wet cunt in front of him, perfect and tempting and waiting to be filled up. He lets the low groan rumble in his chest while his lips return to the spot he sucked into her neck.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty like this,” he murmurs against her skin. “Always think of you like this.”

Mat waits for only a moment, so brief that it flits by almost unnoticed, before he’s pushing in with a low groan. Aurora gasps at the sensation, infinitely better than everything her imagination conjures when her fingers slip between her thighs at night. Nothing replicates the feeling of him buried to the hilt inside her wet heat.

“How long you been thinkin’ ‘bout this, sweetheart?” he rasps once he grows accustomed to the way she squeezes him. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout you for a long time.”

Aurora’s fingers settle into the dip of his shoulders, breasts pressed into his chest. She tries to answer, but all that comes out is a moan. How can he expect her to speak when his hips are punching into her like they’re getting paid for it?

He’s smug at the way he’s rendered her speechless, entranced by the way she feels. Sensing he might not make it long, Mat focuses on his rhythm, finding the one that has her nails scratching down his back so he’ll have a perfect reminder of her wrapped around his dick.

When her moans escalate, he brings a hand between their bodies, watching the way her eyes flutter shut when he rubs at her clit. “Bein’ so good and so pretty for me, ‘Ror. Wanna feel you squeezin’ me while you come.”

She likes when he talks, judging by the way her breath hitches and her cunt tightens, so he keeps talking, muttering pretty, filthy somethings in her ear while he circles her clit. Before long, his whispers are covered by the sound of her crying out his name—she sounds the same as she did two years ago, sweeter this time now that he knows what she feels like when she comes.

Later, when he slips out into the night, Aurora presses her fingers against the hickey on her neck, memorizing the feeling of his lips against her skin.

July 2019 - Vancouver, British Columbia

Aurora takes a seat in the chiavari chair beside Gina, offering Dante a wave. A string quartet plays softly, ushering in wedding guests taking their seats before the ceremony. She’s there more out of obligation to the Fabbros, the bride a cousin of theirs that she’d grown up with, too.

Mat sidles in far too close to the start of the ceremony, plopping himself into the seat next to Aurora. He bumps shoulders with her, offering a grin when she mouths “hi” as the precessional begins.

The ceremony is sweet, the food is excellent, and Aurora can’t help but tear up at the best man’s speech during dinner. Afterwards, everyone is on the dance floor, moving and grooving to a Bruno Mars mashup.

Everyone except two people.

Outside of the tent, Mat and Aurora are sitting on a bench, watching the sunset. Not feeling this song, Mat had murmured to her before jerking his head toward the tent opening, and who was she to say no to accompanying her friend to take in a Vancouver sunset?

“You think you’ll do all this?” The question is abrupt but curious, like his mind had been wandering and he blurted it out as soon as it appeared in his head.

“What? A wedding?”

He nods, gesturing around. “Yeah. You know, the flowers, the fuckin’… doilies, and shit.”

Aurora’s eyebrow raises as she hides a smile. “Do you even know what a doily is?”

“No, but it feels like something that would be here,” he says with a shrug. Dante’s loud laughter echoes from inside, piercing the quiet reprieve from the music.

A few moments pass, the silence comfortable. “Yeah, I think I’d like to get married someday. Do the whole thing. No doilies, though.”

Mat snorts, nudging her knee with his. “Wonder what the guy's gonna be like.”

Aurora considers for a moment. In the few minutes they’ve been outside, the sun has slipped beneath the horizon, its dim, fading light still splaying out from behind the trees. Dusk looks good on him, she thinks. “He’s gonna get me flowers. And take care of me when I’m drunk. And he’s gonna be really, really good looking.”

Mat hums, impressed. “Damn. Sounds like a catch.”

“Duh. I’m a catch,” she says, to which Mat nods in agreement. “How about you?”

“She’s gonna have a great rack,” he replies, grinning so wide he almost ruins the delivery of the joke before he’s doubling over. Aurora snorts but joins him in laughter with a playful smack to the shoulder.

Inside the tent, the DJ makes some announcement that Aurora only half hears—something about grabbing a loved one. Mat extends a hand, smiles wide, and she ignores the thump of her chest as she slips her fingers against his palm.

The anticipation pangs in her chest as he leads her to the dance floor. She feels a sliver of apprehension as he turns to face her, placing his hands respectfully on her waist. Instantly, there’s a flash of the night on the couch, of his lips against her skin; if he’s thinking about it, too, he doesn’t show any outward indication.

Any trace of discomfort dissipates once she gives in to his gravitational pull, hands lacing together behind his neck. He’s strong, sturdy, solid—the way he’s always been, ever-present and a constant in her life since she was 12. His eyes are warm, enveloping Aurora in his gaze until she forgets that there’s anyone else around.

They sway through the remainder of the song, and when notes begin to slow, she finds herself wishing it would last longer. Fortunately, almost like the DJ is privy to her thoughts, the beat picks up, slow song melding into something more upbeat. Mat blinks, the bubble surrounding them popping unceremoniously. He can’t bring himself to let Aurora go, not when she feels so right in his arms.

With a dramatic pull, Mat spins her around, hand supporting her back as he dips her backwards. Aurora squeals, hand clutching onto his as her footing almost loses balance. Laughter bubbles out of her throat as Mat pulls her back upright, his eyes glowing with amusement. Suddenly, he’s looking to do anything to keep hearing that sound.

It takes a truly revolting love song for them to finally leave the dance floor, beelining toward the bar in search of liquid refreshment and a break. The rest of the evening is easy, full of elation and conviviality, the kind of night that makes your cup overflow and runneth over.

That night, when Aurora slips into bed tipsy at 2AM with a contented sigh, she falls asleep dreaming of brown eyes and a crooked smile.

December 2022 – New York, New York

When Mat saw the text informing him that Aurora had a job interview for a Software Engineering Lead at TekStack in New York, he offered up his spare bedroom before she could even tell him the date. It would be a waste of money to stay at a hotel when he had an apartment he barely used, he said, and she could make a long weekend out of it and he’d show her around Long Island.

The grin on Mat’s face grows the instant he sees her, a gray coat draped over her arm as she wheels her carry-on behind her. He opens his arms and she falls into them, the way she has a hundred times. “Welcome to New York.”

“—it’s been waiting for you!”

“Set you up for that on purpose,” he says, offering to take her bag. “You hungry?”

“Starving,” she replies. “But I really want to get the airplane off me first. Maybe takeout for tonight?”

Mat smiles. “Say no more. I know exactly the place.”

A few hours later, Aurora is seated at Mat’s counter, a spread of styrofoam across the quartz. Her suit is hanging in a garment bag on the back of the door to the guest bedroom, waiting to be pressed before her interview. It’s so familiar, the fondness, the sense of comfort, the shared laughter over a plate—or several—of food, but it’s no longer Dante’s family’s lakehouse or the Barzal family’s finished basement. This time, it’s Mat’s fancy apartment in Garden City, the rent alone more than what Aurora makes in a month.

But it’s still the same Mat sitting across from her. Same crooked smile, same easy laughter, same silly, unabashed personality. Admittedly, she was anxious wondering about how things would be; they’d hung out plenty over the summer, kept in touch via the group chat, but their one-on-one time had been limited the last few years.

Despite the apprehension, Aurora is surprised at how quickly they shake off the rust, barely needing any recoil time before it feels like old times. Of course, the camaraderie and pleasantries aren’t nearly enough to build up an immunity to his gray Lululemon sweatpants or the peek of his sculpted Adonis belt when he raises his arms in a lazy stretch. She wasn’t sure how she’d feel when she saw him, but she reluctantly accepts the steady beat of her heart in her chest that tells her her crush is, in fact, still holding strong.

They stay up chatting far longer than Mat anticipated, bedtime delayed even further when he offers to help her prepare for her interview, shrugging with a, I’m not tired anyway—anything to spend just a little more time with her. He Googles ‘Top Interview Questions’ and spends over an hour posing them to her, letting her work through how she’d answer each. Admittedly, he had never really had much practice in the way of a job interview outside of the pre-draft conversations he’d had with various NHL GM’s, but he had more than enough experience at preparing for an onslaught of questions—and how to shake off the nerves beforehand.

“The thing I’ve learned most is to be concise,” he says, thinking back to when he first did NHL-mandated media training. “Don’t be afraid to take a few seconds after the question to think through what you want to say. That helps so you don’t ramble.”

“Don’t ramble. Got it.”

“And listen to some boss bitch music that hypes you up on your way in. It makes a difference. I promise.”

Aurora raises an eyebrow. “I’m gonna need to know what type of ‘boss bitch’ music you’re listening to pre-game, Barzal.”

“Megan Thee Stallion is my top preference,” he says with a grin, “but if you tell anyone that, I’ll deny it and say Drake.”

“Any last expert advice for me?”

“Get a good night’s sleep,” he says, then glances at his phone at the mention of the time. “Which means we’re about two hours behind schedule. Let’s get you to bed.”

Mat offers to carry her bag to the guest bedroom—decorated straight out of a West Elm catalog—and Aurora thanks him before bidding him good night. After changing into her pajamas, she quickly shakes off the urge to pad down the hallway and slip into Mat’s bed with him, reminding herself that that isn’t why she’s here.

Instead, she settles into the soft sheets, feeling herself slipping right back into the old, familiar flutter in her chest.

—

Serendipitously, the scheduling worked out perfectly: the interview was Friday at 1PM, and the Islanders hosted the Predators on Friday night at 7PM, which meant Dante would be in New York and around for post-game dinner, drinks, and a little mid-season reunion for the trio of friends. Aurora shook away the feeling that fate was somehow intervening.

Friday morning arrives, and Mat has morning skate, so he wishes her good luck with a tight hug before he shoves a protein bar in his mouth on his way out the door. For good measure, he sends a string of emojis (💪👩🏽‍💼✅💰) once he arrives at the rink, hoping they’ll give her an extra boost of confidence.

Practice is relatively easy, more of the opportunity to move his body and run through some plays—nothing intense, preserving energy for the actual game. He’s thankful for a pretty painless practice as his mind continually floats to Aurora, wondering how her interview went. Mat isn’t quite sure why he feels so invested in her landing this role until he realizes that if she gets it, she’ll be moving to New York.

“Barzy, you trying to go out after the game?” Oliver asks across the locker room. Mat’s tugging on a pair of sweatpants, fresh from his post-practice shower.

“He can’t,” Matt pipes in with a lopsided grin. “His girl is here.”

Mat groans, pressing a hand to his face as he points a middle finger in Marty’s direction. Next thing he knows, the chirps and wolf whistles fill the room and he feels Pierre aggressively nudge his shoulder.

“A girl?”

“Yeah, the hot brunette. Total smokeshow,” Casey fills in for him.

“Woof woof, Barzy!”

“Get it, Matty B!”

“Fuck off,” Mat huffs, a dismissive hand directed at no one in particular. “She’s not my… girl.”

“She stayin’ at your place?” Dobson asks. “Gonna be at the game tonight?”

Mat nods, earning another chorus of whistles. He rolls his eyes as he tosses his gloves and practice jersey in the bin, ignoring the no pre-game sex jokes (“Can’t play 3 periods if you’ve already played one in the sheets”).

“If she’s not your girl, I’m definitely gonna make a move, then.”

“Fuck off, Dobber.”

—

Aurora arrives home from the interview to find a jersey folded on the bed, along with a handwritten note–thought you might want to have something to rep the home team. She sends back a text to Mat to thank him and respond to his inquiry about the interview before setting off to change and make her way to UBS.

The game is disappointing, if you’re an Islanders fan. But while Aurora is sporting the blue and orange jersey, she’s waiting excitedly for a Nashville Predator to meet her in the designated area Mat directed her to.

When he rounds the corner, hair still wet from his shower, she runs up to him and leaps into his arms. Dante grins as he embraces her in a tight hug. “Feel stupid now for wearing the wrong colors tonight, huh?”

“I have to support my host,” she says with an eye roll.

The host in question appears as if he’s been summoned, moving to hug his old friend, but not before his eyes drag over the 13 on Aurora’s arm. The three of them together just feels right, the dynamic shifted—but complete.

Once they’ve been seated at a high top in a bar in Rockville Centre, Dante turns to Aurora. “‘Ror, how was the interview?”

“It went great,” she grins, accepting the fist bump Dante offers her. “I aced the coding exercise.”

“You’re such a badass. I picture you like one of those hackers in the movies.”

Aurora snorts, shaking her head. She thanks the waiter who places her drink in front of her. “It’s not really like that, but thanks.”

Conversation flows easily amongst the trio–only one comment from Dante razzing Mat for the 4-1 loss–and eventually the food arrives, along with another round of drinks.

“So… you really gonna join us and become a Yank?” Dante probes over his meal.

“To be honest, I don’t even know if I’d accept it,” she says quietly. Mat watches the way her lip disappears between her teeth as she contemplates; he doesn’t envy the gargantuan decision that lies ahead of her. “It’s a big move to make.”

As dense as he knows he can sometimes be, Mat recognizes this as a pivotal opportunity for him to share his own experience moving across the continent. He doesn’t have much in the way of advice, the distance something he just grew accustomed to in time, but he knows what it’s like; feeling the divide between him and the rest of his life like a bruise that won’t quite heal, the precious few-hour window where phone calls and texts make 5,000 kilometers feel like 10.

In so many words, he tells her so, aided by Dante’s supporting murmurs in a rare serious moment. Aurora absorbs it, if nothing else, comforted by the fact that they understand—kind of. It’s a little different moving cross-continent when you’re going to make millions of dollars, but money certainly doesn’t make the distance less of a burden to carry.

“FaceTime is your best friend,” Dante says, and Mat nods in agreement.

“Oh, is that why I get one FaceTime from you every two months?” she sticks her tongue out at Dante. Mat makes a mental note to FaceTime her more often. If she moves to New York, he won’t have to.

“No, that’s ‘cause you’re not my best friend,” Dante jokes, and Aurora scoffs playfully, eyes rolled in annoyance.

Sensing the end of the semi-serious moment, Mat stands up. “Gotta rock a piss.”

“Charming, Barz.”

Dante watches Mat’s retreating figure, eyeing the brown locks until they disappear down the hallway toward the restrooms. His gaze moves to Aurora’s, lowering his head conspiratorially. “Is something happening?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You two. You seem… different.”

Aurora’s eyebrows raise. “Different how?”

“Just… different,” Dante shrugs, then takes another swig of his drink. “It’s not like everyone doesn’t know you’ve been in love with each other forever.”

Jaw dropping in shock, Aurora feels her face suddenly get very hot. “That’s not true!”

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were still in denial,” he says, feigning self-defense and fighting a smile. “My bad. I’ll go back to trying to ignore the way you googly eyes each other.”

“I do not make googly eyes at him!”

“Man, ‘Ror, that acceptance is really buried deep down in there, huh?” Dante grins, dodging the french fry she launches in his direction. Then, he’s back to serious—kind of. “I know it’s a big leap to take when you’ve been friends for so long, but you haven’t been subjected to seeing the way you look at each other. I wish you’d just make out already. It’s disgusting.”

Aurora doesn’t have the heart to tell him they’ve already done far more than make out—multiple times—and part of her is relieved that Mat never divulged that information to his best friend despite every opportunity to. This way, it’s their little secret, something for just the two of them to have.

Mat’s return effectively ends the conversation. They pay their tabs—Aurora ignores Dante’s pointed look when Mat picks hers up without a word—and make their way to the next bar.

Several hours and far too many Palomas later, Mat unlocks the door to his apartment. He struggles slightly under the stumbling weight of Aurora, who’s latched onto him as she drunkenly giggles. He’s not much better off, but the Uber ride sobered him up enough to think to order DoorDash, conveniently arriving a few minutes after they get in the door.

Coaxing her to eat is a bit of a struggle, but he finally manages to get her into a barstool, munching contentedly on chicken tenders.

“C’mon, ‘Ror,” he murmurs once he sees she isn’t going to finish the third tender. He wraps an arm around her waist, helping her out of the seat to stand her up. “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

“Carry me!”

Without any additional warning, she’s leaping into his arms. Mat lets out an oof but manages to secure her in his arms as he carries her to the guest bedroom. When he places her on the mattress, her legs don’t untangle from his waist, and Mat feels the near instant pulse in his groin. Aurora’s eyes are closed, but her hips move, subtly, and he allows himself to revel in the feeling of her brushing against him. It doesn’t take long for his dick to become hard as steel, aided massively by the soft, sleepy whimpers that leave Aurora’s throat.

“Matty,” she whispers, hands seeking out the dips in his biceps.

Mat wants nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and devour her like he’s been aching to from the moment he saw a glimpse of her in a towel coming out of the shower this morning. He’s got just enough booze in his system to cloud his judgment, hand trailing up her side and savoring the warmth of her body against his palm. His dick twitches in his pants when he glides a hand over Aurora’s breast, yearning to tug the cups of that stupidly sexy corset down to repeat his fantasy.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he summons every single ounce of self-restraint left in his body and tears himself away from her tempting frame. Much to his chagrin, Aurora lets out the most devastating, disappointed mewl and Mat swears he can feel his heart (and dick) shatter at the sound.

“‘Ror,” he whispers. “We can’t.”

“Why not? S’not like we’ve never… done it before,” she slurs, reaching to run her hands across his pecs. He indulges in the feeling for just a brief moment, his resolve fleeting with every second.

“Not like this.”

“Y-you—” she hiccups, then frowns when he gently takes her hands off of him, “—you don’t… want me.”

“No,” Mat says quickly. He’s pretty sure she won’t remember in the morning, but if she does, he wants her to remember this. “I do. But I don’t want it to be like this.”

“Only wore this so you’d take it off,” she murmurs, and Mat groans, the devil on his shoulder whispering very strong reasons why he should give into temptation.

Ultimately, the good guy in him wins the battle, ignoring the throbbing of his dick when he helps Aurora to shimmy off her skintight leather pants. He does his best to avoid staring at the flimsy scrap of fabric between her thighs and pretends not to notice how little it covers. Her body is almost entirely dead weight as he tries to figure out how to remove her corset, eventually tugging it over her head; her breasts fall free, and he chokes on his own spit as he desperately looks around for something to cover her with.

Dashing to his room, he grabs a t-shirt—only a little bit intentionally selecting an Islanders tee in order to see her wearing his colors again; on his way back, he pours a glass of water and grabs a bottle of Advil from the bathroom. When he returns, Aurora’s breathing is heavy and she’s lying in the same position he left her in, finally asleep.

Mat places the water on the nightstand, then notices her phone and plugs it into the charger. Gently, he slides the t-shirt over her head and maneuvers her arms through the sleeves, then situates her and tucks her in before pulling the blanket up to her chin. With a kiss on her forehead, Mat quietly steps back to return to his room, ready to palm himself off, the image of her tiny panties and her tits seared into his brain.

Just before he shuts the door, he hears a quiet whisper of his name, a soft Matty in the darkness. He pauses, waiting for her to speak again.

“Stay.”

Something in her voice makes his heart ache. He stands, frozen in place, hesitant to return to her; afraid that he won’t have the willpower to resist her if she makes a move again. Like an unruly stepchild, his dick throbs as he adjusts himself.

“Please?”

Her voice is so sweet, he can’t help himself. His feet move of their own accord, back to the bed before he’s crawling under the covers beside her. Aurora’s arm immediately wraps around his stomach, snuggling into the crook of his shoulder. As he listens to her dozing off, Mat pretends it’s the alcohol that blankets his heart with warmth and not the girl sleeping soundly in his arms.

—

Bright light wakes her first. There’s a few, beautiful seconds of peace before the throbbing begins.

Aurora groans loudly, hand flying to shield her eyes. Timidly, she stretches her legs out slowly, to avoid the wave of searing pain through her skull. She has a memory of Mat’s hands touching her, dragging their way up her body, but she can’t decide if that was real or just a dream. Judging by the empty space next to her in bed, she assumes it was a dream.

She gropes for her phone on the bedside table—thankful that she had the foresight to plug in her phone in her inebriated state—and opens Instagram. Dante’s green Close Friends story bubble is one of the first she sees. The video that lies within makes her groan: it’s Aurora, illuminated by the dim, disco lights of the bar they ended up at in Rockville Centre, making an absolute fool of herself dancing. If you can even call it dancing. It’s more like a series of unhinged, discombobulated movements that barely follow the pulse of the music playing over the speakers.

But Mat Barzal is in the background, watching her like she put the stars in the sky. His eyes are warm, and the smile on his face is soft, relaxed; a look of adoration. Of love.

[Gina:] Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you and Mat? [Gina:] Dude is looking at you like you just birthed his firstborn on Dante’s story [Gina:] Wait, he didn’t knock you up, did he?

Aurora snorts at the texts from her pseudo-sister.

[Aurora:] Funny enough, your brother asked me the same thing [Aurora:] And no, he did not knock me up [Gina:] Still waiting on the answer to my first question

Aurora is halfway through typing a message (“I’ll call you when I get home”) when she hears the front door open and close. A few seconds later, there’s a gentle knock at the door before a messy-haired Mat pokes his head in. “G’morning, sunshine.”

She groans, throwing the blanket over her head in an attempt to shield herself. “Can you stop yelling?”

He laughs, and though it’s lovely, the sound pierces her brain with a fiery stake. “So you don’t want me to tell you there’s bagels in the kitchen?”

Aurora peeks her head out from under the comforter. “Bagels, you say?”

“Bagel sandwiches,” he corrects. “Best on Long Island.”

Contemplating for a moment, Aurora glances at the glass of water on the nightstand, along with the two Advil sitting by it. He must have put them there this morning. She downs then, throws on a sweatshirt, and trudges into the kitchen behind Mat.

Aurora is convinced the bagel sandwiches have magic in them, reinvigorating her brain and hitting just the right spot. The two of them chew in silence for a while, Mat choosing to give her a few minutes to come back to life.

When he senses the medication might have kicked in, he speaks, slowly. He isn’t sure why he’s feeling so nervous. “Are you sure you have to go back today?”

She laughs and nods. “Sadly, I do have to get back to my actual job that I haven’t quit yet.”

“Just saying, you can come and be my roommate–free of charge. You just gotta do the dishes and help with a little laundry.”

Aurora’s eyebrow raises, taking a long sip of the hot mug of coffee he’d placed in front of her ten minutes ago. “So you want a live-in maid?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Mat trails off with a laugh. “Really though. When are you supposed to hear back?”

“They just said in a couple weeks,” she shrugs. Only a few more weeks before life could change forever.

Something in their goodbye is different; a little bit timid, maybe even hesitant, but neither call it to attention. Mat gives her a squeeze in the departures lane, wishing her a safe flight, and Aurora promises to keep him updated on the job.

He watches her slip between the sliding doors, watching her figure retreat until he can’t see her anymore.

January 2023 — Vancouver, British Columbia

Aurora huffs, blowing the hair out of her eyes as she concentrates on her phone in her hand. She types, deletes, then re-types her message.

I got the job.

Her finger hovers over the button to send, heart pounding. She doesn’t know why she’s nervous, not exactly, but she knows there’s a lot of weight behind those four words, knows that they have the potential to change everything. For her. For him. Everything.

[Mat:] Congratulations! Told you you’d kill it. 😊

The text is followed by a gif of Buddy the Elf, and Aurora almost snorts at the stupidity of it. She takes a breath, almost… disappointed? If nothing else, she was expecting a bit more excitement, more fanfare.

Aurora presses down on the message and gives it a thumbs up.

Three hours later, she’s on the phone with Gina, gushing over the excitement of her job offer. She hasn’t even accepted it, but she’s still wistfully dreaming of how she might decorate her Manhattan apartment, anticipating the charm—among other things—of being in the greatest city in the world.

Gina senses Aurora’s hesitation before she even says anything. “But…”

“…but if I go, I’m pretty sure I’m going to get my heart broken.” She can hear Gina contemplating on the other line, probably debating how to deliver her latest blow of hard-hitting advice.

Gina’s next sentence is quiet, but confident. “You just need to talk to him, ‘Ror.”

“I know.”

Aurora’s phone buzzes, but it isn’t until she gets off the phone with Gina a few minutes later that she sees the second text appear on her screen.

[Mat:] so, we gonna do this? [Aurora:] do what?

She watches the text bubbles appear, then disappear. The seconds feel like an eternity before a FaceTime call is popping up, a photo of 17-year-old Mat with upside down sunglasses on. Sliding to answer, she’s greeted by the sight of Mat, arm resting behind his head, silver chain peeking out of the hem of his white t-shirt. His hair is ruffled, and he’s looking at the camera with a knowing smirk.

“You and me,” he says simply. It takes Aurora a few moments to realize he’s responding to her text—and a few more before she realizes what he’s saying.

“You–are you—what?”

“You know, give it the old college try.” He offers a cheeky shrug of his shoulders, a flash of his charming smile.

“Mat, are you asking me out?”

“Were you expecting a grand proposal with roses and champagne?”

She ignores his snigger, too frenzied to acknowledge his sarcastic quip. Instead, she opts to get to the real question she has burning a hole in her chest. “Where is this coming from?”

“I’ve been waiting for a chance with you since we were 15, ‘Rora. Jus’ never had one ‘til right now.”

Aurora’s jaw drops, words completely absent from her brain. This was everything she’d wanted to hear for the better part of a decade, and here he is, as casual as if he was asking her to pass the salt at the dinner table.

Mat’s waiting for a response, so she shakes off the surprise and does her best to gather her composure. She isn’t sure what to feel: elated, irritated, and skeptical, and everything in between. “And you never thought to tell me you felt this way?”

He shrugs. “Jus’ did, didn’t I?”

Aurora resists the laugh at the simplicity of his Boy Brain. “Mathew Michael Paul Barzal, if you are fucking with me and this is some shit idea of a joke—”

“Why would I joke about something like that?” he says, then a glint takes over in his eyes. “I would like to be fucking you, though.”

An exasperated sigh leaves her throat, though she begrudgingly notes the way her stomach flips at his statement. “Can you not do—that—for five minutes, please? This is a lot of information to take in.”

Mat hums an apology, not really sorry. He watches the way she puts her phone down, his view now the slowly spinning ceiling fan in her apartment bedroom. He can hear the sigh, the sound of her feet padding slowly on the hardwood floor–pacing.

“I’m serious, Aurora.” He announces it out, loudly, maybe a little more formally than he expected.

Her forehead peeks over the camera, frizzy, unstyled post-shower waves falling over her face. “Fuck, Mat.”

“You could come live with me in Garden City,” he says. “Take the subway in on the days you go into work. Could set up an office for you in the den.”

“Mat, I’m not fucking moving in with you when I don’t even know what this is,” she says, exasperated, ignoring the thought he’s clearly put into it all. She hears the words he’s saying, but after almost a decade of missed connections, crushed hopes, and mixed messages, she’s hesitant to really take them to heart. It’s a defense mechanism, not willing to trust him even though she’s pretty sure he’s serious. “Do you realize how insane you sound?”

“M’not,” he says, shakes his head for emphasis. “It’s always been you, Ror.”

At that, Aurora has to sit down, the weight of the words smacking her clean in the chest. She can feel the magic, the warmth, the fuzzies enveloping her heart, ready to soar into the clouds at what he’s saying. At the same time, she’s confused, uncertain, maybe a little angry. More frustrated than mad, really, but she knows she deserves an explanation all the same.

“Why haven’t you said anything this entire time? It’s been years, Mat. I’ve loved you since we were fifteen—waiting this whole time to hear you say this, to give me any fucking clue that maybe you felt the same way.”

He looks like a puppy who has been scolded for destroying a roll of toilet paper. Then, “You think I don’t want to be with you?”

“You never gave a sign. You never even acknowledged what happened between us.”

It’s the first sign of any remorse when Mat sighs, his eyes cast down from the camera. “I—I thought it was casual. We’ve lived so far apart I just thought—”

“—thought it wasn’t worth it?”

“No,” he says quickly, looking up to meet her gaze. “I thought you wouldn’t want to do it. The distance.”

“Thought you regretted it,” she admits. Her voice is so quiet Mat barely hears it.

“Regret sleeping with the girl I’ve been in love with since I was in high school? Yeah, okay,” he snorts. “My only regret is that we haven’t been doing it all this time.”

Aurora hums, overwhelmed by his confession—if you can call it that—and the influx of feelings that have inundated her chest. What he’s saying makes sense, in a twisted, boy-math kind of way.

“What does being—” she swallows the word girlfriend like a disgusting cough syrup. “—together look like?”

“Whatever you want it to look like.”

“What do you want it to look like?”

Mat hums. He thinks, envisions what calling Aurora his girl—for real, not just when he’s getting razzed by his teammates–would look like. A picture of waking up with her in his arms, sleepy and smiling. Eating takeout on the couch, her feet in his lap, sporting one of his t-shirts while they catch up on Succession. Seeing her in the stands at UBS, wearing his number on her back. Laughter, comfort, happiness. Home.

In other words, the entire weekend he spent with her.

“Don’t say something stupid like, ‘unlimited sex’,” she adds, the dreamy smile on his face alerting her to the idea that some of his thoughts may, perhaps, be unsavory.

“Wasn’t gonna,” he replies, “but now that you mention it…”

“I’m going to hang up.”

“I’m just joking, ‘Ror. I mean, don’t get me wrong, that would be top of my list. But you gotta know that you’re way more to me than just great tits and a fat ass.”

“Mat!”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” he says, holding a hand up as if to defend himself from her scathing tone. Aurora’s eyes roll and she scoffs, though Mat swears he sees the corner of her lip turn up just slightly. “I’d… want it to look exactly like this.”

Aurora blinks, not expecting such a simple answer—not that she had any idea of what to expect out of his mouth, ever. The concept that they’re already there, minus the labels, is… overwhelming. A little bit unnerving, because everything that flicks through her mind just feels like more and more evidence that he’s right. Dante, Gina, everyone else saw it—she’d just been blind to it the whole time.

“So,” he says slowly, afraid to pop her thought bubble. “What d’you say?”

“Wish you were here and not on FaceTime,” she mumbles, embarrassed at the vulnerability that slips out.

“I’ll get a flight to Vancouver right now, if it helps.”

Aurora smiles melancholy, and it tastes bittersweet. She knows he’s serious, would be by her side as soon as humanly possible, if she asked. But she also knows his influence will only sway her in one direction, and she needs to make sure she’s making an unbiased decision.

“Ror?”

“I–I need some space, okay?”

“I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

—

The next week is a blur, a mess of emotions and running through the same scenarios in her head over and over again. Aurora sits at the countertop on FaceTime with Gina, dissecting the options for what feels like the thousandth time.

“I don’t know what he doesn’t understand about space but this sure isn’t it,” she says, glancing at the bouquet of flowers sitting in a pretty—and expensive—glass vase.

“I think it’s sweet,” Gina insists. “Besides, we all know he isn’t the smartest.”

“It feels like he’s pressuring me, Gin,” Aurora says.

Gina rolls her eyes. “So he wants to show you he cares after years of burying his feelings. Sue the guy, why don’t you?”

Dusting a crumb off of the kitchen counter, scrolling through the relocation document TekStack had sent her along with her offer, Aurora sighs. Gina’s right; other than the flowers, he’d cooled it on everything else, and she missed it—the stupid memes, the goofy texts, the random (and gross) Snapchat series of him peeing in different cities. Missed him.

“Can’t wait to visit you. Keep the sex to a minimum while I’m in the guest bedroom, ‘kay?”

“Shut up!”

February 2023 — New York, New York

Mat fidgets, wiping his hands on his sides before glancing at his watch for the 16th time in five minutes. 3:17pm. Any minute now.

When he sees her coming down the catwalk, he doesn’t think twice; his strides quicken, along with the tick of his heart, and his fingers itch in anticipation. When he reaches her, he ignores the look of surprise on her face, hands cupping her jaw and pulling her mouth to his in a kiss that takes her breath away.

“I love you,” he says breathlessly when she pulls away, an expression of pure shock on her face. “Should’ve been telling you that for years. Please, please, please be mine. For real.”

The corners of Aurora’s lips twitch before they curl into a smile, and Mat has to resist the urge to kiss her again before she can even answer.

“Thought you said you weren’t gonna do an elaborate proposal,” she says with a laugh.

“Would, if that’s what it took,” he mumbles. He knows he’s being a simp, but he’s not missing this chance now that it’s right in front of him, so close he can taste it—literally. Her chapstick lingers on his lips, subtle but enough that he knows it’s all her.

“Lucky for you, Barzy, I think an airport love confession is the perfect amount of elaborate.”

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year

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All These Years [Part 10: "The Weight of Grief"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 5.4k

a/n: This one is quite heavy on the angst. Also--if you haven't realized already, the timeline and events of this series aren't exactly canon. Just for clarification. I split this installment into two parts so the next one is actually going to be titled "Last to Know." Feedback is always appreciated! And I have not published this to AO3 with whatever is going on, but I will whenever things have calmed down over there. I just didn't want to leave everyone hanging when I had updates ready!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine

“How about you let me take you out for dinner Saturday night?”

Shouldering your phone against your ear, you continued to distractedly chop vegetables for the late dinner you were making in your kitchen. A smile made its way onto your lips at the prospect of a third date already.

“How bold of you, Adam,” you teased. “Three Saturday nights in a row? A girl might think you like her.”

“Maybe I want the girl to think I like her,” he teased back.

Pausing your chopping, you set the knife down on the cutting board before wiping your hands on the towel next to it. Grabbing your phone from your shoulder, you turned and rested your back against the countertop. Chewing your lip, you felt a faint blush rise to your cheeks.

You’d met Adam through a speed dating event that Karen had dragged you along with her to. That had been about a month ago now. You’d thought the whole idea was terrible and you’d made her promise not to say anything to Foggy or Matt, not wanting either of them to judge you for going. You figured it would make you sound desperate because you were sure Karen wasn’t really having trouble in the dating department. It was clearly a ploy to get you to go in the hopes of finding someone instead of Matt to think about.

And you and Karen had considered the experience successful because you’d instantly clicked with Adam that night. From the moment he sat down at your table and smiled at you, you’d been hooked. He was a veterinary technician with a big heart and a love of animals, something that had immediately won you over with him. He was cute, too. And funny. And he seemed like he was close with his family. With Adam, you found you weren’t actively trying to forget about Matt and push him out of your thoughts. Something that had you instantly drawn to him because no one else had ever accomplished that since you'd met Matt back at Columbia.

And ever since Matt and Elektra had surprised you at your apartment a few months ago, you'd tried hard to let your feelings for him go. There would never be anything more between you and him, you knew that now. So now you were doing your best to focus on just letting Matt be your friend, especially while you tried to adjust to the new knowledge about his heightened senses and him being the masked man running around the streets of Hell’s Kitchen at night performing heroics. Though now he’d recently become known as Daredevil in the news ever since he'd gotten that protective new suit made for him. And you were glad he had because you'd worried a lot less about his well-being; he was visibly sporting less injuries at least.

But you didn't spend as much time with Matt as you used to, even if you had stopped actively avoiding him. He was often busy with his vigilante endeavors, and it just felt weird and uncomfortable being around him knowing he knew you had feelings for him that he didn't return. And from your knowledge, he had spent the past few months helping Elektra with something. You were certain they were back together again even if you'd never asked and had it confirmed. You didn't want to even think about it.

And as for what he was helping her with–you didn't ask about that either. You weren't as in the know about what was going on as Foggy and Karen seemed to be, and frankly you didn't want to be. Despite having come to accept Matt's secret alter ego, you didn't want to know about anything that involved Elektra. So whenever the topic of her came up, you usually asked about the bare minimum and found a way to quickly exit the conversation–especially when you’d later overheard that Elektra had died, but also apparently had been resurrected from the dead. Which had confused you too much to want to try to understand.

"Well I am free Saturday night," you answered Adam.

"Should we try that new Italian restaurant?" he asked over the line. "You were talking about craving pasta earlier this week."

The smile on your lips grew wider. You'd told him that offhandedly on the phone three nights ago and apparently he'd remembered.

"I would like that," you told him. "I'm–"

A few knocks on your apartment door interrupted you, your attention shifting to it across the room. A frown settled on your mouth. It was after seven on a Thursday night, who would be stopping by? You hadn't been expecting company.

"Hey, Adam, someone's apparently at my door," you told him. "Mind if we finalize the details tomorrow?"

"Not at all," he told you, the smile apparent in his chipper tone. "I'll call you in the evening? After work?"

"That sounds great," you told him.

You exchanged goodbyes before hanging up, setting your phone onto your kitchen counter. Eyeing your door curiously, you made your way across your apartment towards it. It took you a few moments to unlock the door, unlatching the deadbolt before pulling it open.

Your eyebrows rose up high onto your forehead at the unexpected sight of Foggy and Karen standing there. Both of them had red, puffy eyes that were glistening with tears on their sullen faces. Heart beating harder in your chest, your hand tightened around the doorknob you were still holding. Whatever had brought them here couldn't be good, not with the way Foggy’s lips were suddenly trembling as he opened his mouth, clearly struggling to form a sentence.

And that's when you knew what this visit had to be about. You'd felt the rumble and shaking earlier tonight when you'd been grabbing food at the store on your way home from work. Everyone had been saying it had been an earthquake at the time, but you'd later heard something about a building collapsing nearby in Hell’s Kitchen.

Something must have happened to Matt. There was no other reason for both of them to be standing there looking at you like they were. Not in the state they were in.

Tears immediately stung at your eyes, a feeling of dread washing over you as your gaze danced between the pair of them before you. It felt like your throat was closing up, making it almost impossible for you to swallow. Shaking your head, you felt the first tears fall.

"No," you said, voice breaking on the word. "No, don't tell me he got hurt."

A choked sob fell out of Karen instantly, your heart feeling like someone had crushed it in their fist at the sound. One of her hands rose up to cover her mouth as she turned away, unable to look at you. Beside her, Foggy sent you an apologetic smile when your eyes met his, but he couldn’t hide the tears present and ready to spill over.

"There was an–an accident," Foggy said softly. "Matt he was–was out helping those others like him. The ones we'd told you a bit about. They were over at Midland Circle." He paused, exhaling a shuddering breath. "Trying to destroy that Hand group. And they–they blew up the building."

Both of your hands flew to your face at the tremble in Foggy’s voice and the implication of his words. You felt like you were going to be sick.

"No," you repeated, shaking your head more firmly. "No, no he's okay. Tell me he's okay, Foggy!" you shouted.

Foggy said your name softly, stepping into your apartment slowly with his hands raised placatingly as if he was approaching a wild animal. A painful grimace was on his face as he approached you and you took a step back, still shaking your head as more tears streamed down your cheeks.

"He didn't make it out," he whispered.

"No," you growled through clenched teeth. "No, don't you tell me that! Don’t you fucking tell me that, Foggy!"

"The others said he stayed behind," Foggy continued gently. "Trying to save Elektra."

It felt like you’d been barreled over by a city bus at his words. Matt had stayed behind…to save Elektra? He died for her? The heartless woman who’d only toyed with him? The woman who didn’t even know the beautiful, fragile heart she held in the palm of her hands? Who’d never truly loved him, abandoning him back at Columbia with a shattered heart? The very same heart you’d spent months trying to help him piece back together just for him to give it back to her years later to permanently destroy?

He died for her?

You collapsed to your knees, hot tears steadily pouring down your cheeks. It wasn’t until Foggy was kneeling on the floor before you, his hands gingerly grasping your shoulders and drawing you towards him, that you realized you were screaming. You fought Foggy’s attempts to soothe you, struggling against him as he tried to hold you still. The entire time you heard him repeatedly croaking out ‘I know, I know’ over and over, emotion thick in his own voice.

“He’s not dead!” you wailed, still thrashing against Foggy. “He’s not dead! Matt’s not dead!!��

“Hey, hey,” Karen said gently, her voice breaking as she kneeled down beside you and Foggy on the floor. “I–I know it’s hard to hear,” she whispered, “but Matt he–he didn’t make it. They–they said they saw him stay behind.”

“Well maybe he made it out!” you cried hysterically, sniffling loudly as the tears didn’t stop falling. “They’re wrong! It’s–it’s Matt we’re talking about, guys! He’s–he’s like a goddamn superhero! He isn’t dead! He can’t be!”

There was no way you would believe Matt was gone. That his smiling face wouldn't still greet you if you headed over to his apartment right now. That he wouldn't be calling you tomorrow night to see if you wanted to grab drinks with him, Foggy, and Karen at Josie’s. That he wouldn’t be making one of his stupid blind jokes to you over a few beers.

He wasn't dead. You'd have known if he was. Felt it somehow.

Matt wasn’t dead.

You shook your head, pulling away out of Foggy’s embrace and roughly wiping the backs of your hands against your tear stained cheeks. Sniffling loudly again, you ignored the pitying looks on their faces.

“Was there a body?” you asked, trying to calm down.

“What?” Foggy asked you.

“Was there a body?” you repeated, forcefully enunciating each word.

“No, not yet,” he answered. “But they just started trying to sort through the rubble. The emergency responders said it could take days for them to sort through the mess.” Foggy’s frown deepened as he said your name again. “It doesn’t sound like he made it.”

“No,” you said firmly, rising back up to your feet and wiping at your eyes again. “I’m not believing it until there’s a body. He’s alive, I know he is.”

Karen sent you a sad smile, tears still falling down her own cheeks. “Okay,” she said softly with a nod. “Let’s give it a few days. Maybe–maybe they were wrong.”

You were kneeling, bent over the pew before you with your forehead resting against your clasped hands. You'd lost track of the time a while ago, unsure how long you'd been here. But your back was now stiff from however long you'd remained stationary in prayer, your knees aching.

Praying wasn't something you did. You'd never been the religious type, though lately you'd often found yourself seeking solace at Clinton Church. Because it was Matt's church, the place where he told you he grew up going to. The place he had told you he frequented for advice from Father Lantom–who you'd met now with all the time you'd been spending here since Matt had gone missing. The orphanage he grew up in was just next door to this church, too.

Coming here in the recent days since Matt had disappeared had always made you feel closer to him for some unexplainable reason. Like you could just feel him here in the walls of the church somehow. It was comforting to you, the only comfort you’d come to find over the past couple of weeks.

Despite the fact that everyone had told you he'd been in the building when it collapsed, and that he'd been missing for over two weeks, and the fact that you'd gone to a memorial service for him at this very church just a few days ago, you still absolutely refused to believe Matt was dead. There had never been a body found among the wreckage of Midland Circle–for him or Elektra. Which only cemented it in your mind that he was out there alive somewhere.

But your friends were not of the same mind. They’d tried to grieve him at his memorial service, and they’d spent many conversations already trying to convince you that the facts all pointed to Matt having passed in the building’s collapse. Foggy had even asked you to explain why Matt wouldn't have reached out to let any of you know he was alive if he really had made it out of the building. All you could think was that he was lying horribly injured somewhere and unable to reach out. That had to be what was going on.

Because Matt Murdock wasn't dead. He just wasn't. You didn't care that Foggy looked at you now with a different and more infuriating sympathetic look on his face whenever he saw you, one that wasn't just because you were in love with Matt and he didn’t return those feelings. He thought you were in denial and delusional now, unable to accept reality.

Maybe you were, but you weren’t going to accept his death without proof of a body.

You heard movement nearby as someone came and sat down in the pew beside where you were kneeling. Almost immediately you recognized the scent of incense and smoke and you already knew who’d taken a seat–Father Lantom. Over the past few days he’d been stopping to chat with you, having recognized you from Matt’s memorial service and realizing you’d been showing up often.

With a sigh you lifted your head, turning and glancing at Father Lantom in the pew. He was smiling at you, the expression somehow reassuring and comforting just like the church itself. Pushing yourself away from the kneeler, you settled into the pew beside him, your focus on your hands in your lap.

“You’re back again today,” Father Lantom observed.

“I come every day after work,” you muttered.

“You do,” he agreed lightly. “And how’re you feeling today?”

Your hands clenched into fists in your lap. “Furious,” you answered, eyes still focused on your hands. “I’m still angry. Probably more angry than anything lately.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Father Lantom nod. He shifted in the pew, turning to face you more fully.

“Anger is a common reaction when a loved one is taken from us,” he told you. “Especially when the loss is so unexpected.”

Your head darted up, your eyes brimming with tears as you focused on the priest beside you. “He’s not dead,” you stated, shaking your head firmly. “I told you that. He’s not dead.”

Something flickered across Father Lantom’s face briefly before his lips pressed into a thin line, his expression becoming something neutral. He nodded his head just once.

“So much like Matthew yourself,” he mused. “He was always stubborn. Ever since he was a boy, really. When he had an idea in his head you couldn’t shake it from him for anything.”

A tear slipped out of your eye, your hand darting up to quickly wipe it away as your focus shifted to the large crucifix at the front of the church. It was the one thing you didn’t like about Clinton Church–the way Christ was always staring back at you from within the sanctuary, battered and bleeding on the cross. It felt too much like Matt.

“I miss him,” you whispered, eyes falling back down to your hands in your lap.

I still love him.

“Well,” Father Lantom began slowly, “the most we can do for those we’ve lost–however it is that we’ve lost them–is to keep on living. I believe Matthew would want that for you. To keep living your life. To move forward.”

“I feel like all I’ve done is move backwards,” you admitted quietly, your fingers twisting around each other now. “I barely sleep. I can’t focus at work. I broke things off with the guy I was seeing not too long ago because I just can’t–can’t pretend everything is okay. Because it’s not, nothing is.”

Father Lantom sighed loudly, shifting in the pew beside you to clasp his own hands in his lap. His mouth opened as if he was about to speak, but you saw his focus shift towards a nun, your own eyes following the movement. She looked quite stern as she eyed the priest beside you, almost like she was trying to tell him something with her eyes, but when her attention turned to you her expression softened. You swore she offered you a smile before you ducked your head, tears once again threatening to fall.

You abruptly rose to your feet, the threat of tears urging you to seek the solitude of your apartment before you broke down publicly in the church. That was usually your cue to leave.

“Going already?” Father Lantom asked in surprise.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, turning away from him and making your way towards the other end of the pew. “I’m sure I’ll be back tomorrow, though. And the next day.”

Matt’s hand tentatively reached out, fingers brushing over the cool stone of the statue. He could feel the grainy texture of it under the pads of his fingers. Each and every little divot in the stone. His sense of touch hadn’t really been affected by the collapse of Midland Circle, not quite, but what a shitty and useless sense to have retained. All it did was make him further aware of how uncomfortable the cheap cotton clothes he was wearing felt on his skin, and how scratchy the little bed he attempted to sleep in every night felt underneath him. It only brought him further discomfort and pain to match his injuries.

His hearing hadn’t fully come back to him, either; it was often touch and go. Sometimes he’d hear a ringing in one or both of his ears if it didn’t sound like he was underwater. He also hadn’t regained his heightened sense of taste–didn’t matter what food Sister Maggie brought him, it all tasted like blood and ash. And his sense of smell was basically nonexistent. He hadn’t been able to smell a damn thing besides smoke since he’d woken up in the undercroft of Clinton Church. He was utterly and pathetically useless without his senses. Just plodding around clumsily with a cane and tripping over his own goddamn feet in the church’s basement.

Yet for some reason, he still found himself trying. Which is what he’d been up out of his bed trying to do now as he attempted to map out the space he was in. He had no idea what time of day it was–it’s not like he could hear much besides the room he was in to even gauge time–and he was becoming stir crazy trapped in this church basement trying to heal. So he’d been up the past few minutes wandering around, his cane left hanging off one of the statues somewhere in the room. He honestly didn’t even know where, which wouldn’t have been the case if he’d been back to his normal self. Something that only further pissed him off.

Matt took a handful of careful steps forward, focusing intensely on where he was going. But as he took one more step, his foot hit something solid and he lost his balance. He fell to the floor, his hands flying out to try to brace himself for the impact, but he’d cut his palm on the corner of something sharp before he landed roughly on his side. He groaned out, his eyes closing as he curled into a ball.

He wished he’d have died in that goddamn building.

But that wasn’t quite true. What he’d really wished was that Elektra hadn’t been so dead set on getting her hands on what the Hand had been after. That she hadn’t become the Hand’s puppet when they’d resurrected her as the Black Sky. If she’d have just listened to him he wouldn’t have stayed behind. He wouldn’t have felt the need to try to save her. Because despite the hurt she’d put him through, despite the way she’d broken his heart those years ago, he couldn’t just leave her to die. That wasn’t him. But ever since he’d woken up after he’d been dragged out of that wreckage, he’d hated her for having made him make that choice. For not just leaving with him and everyone else. For choosing to die trying to get what she wanted, and in true Elektra fashion, dragging him down with her.

But it wasn’t Elektra he’d been thinking about when the building had collapsed and he knew he was about to die.

It was you.

Every moment he’d ever had with you felt like it raced through his mind in a matter of seconds. The first time he’d stumbled on you on campus, when you'd stopped to help that stranger pick up their spilled belongings and you’d been so unbelievably kind. All that time he’d spent searching Columbia's campus for a sign of you afterwards. The unexplainable excitement when he’d accidentally ran into you at the library and finally got your name and your phone number. And every good memory he had of you ever since then; all of those Saturday nights he’d spent with you and Foggy, and the times he got you all to himself when Foggy had inevitably passed out early in his bed. Every conversation at meal times in the dining hall. He recalled graduation night when he’d almost kissed you, almost told you he loved you–and he regretted it so much right now that he’d never just said it back then.

He recalled every moment with you that he could–every single one of them. Because he wanted you to be his dying thought.

As the building fell around him, Elektra had been shouting something at him, trying to rile him up one last time, but he hadn’t been paying attention to her because he’d been trying to remember the way it felt when he held you in his arms. You’d always fit so perfectly against him. He’d tried his hardest to recall the scent of your shampoo–something faintly floral and sweet, but never overpowering–and the softness of your hair the times he’d been bold enough to press his nose into it. You almost always buried your face into his left shoulder when he embraced you, a small random detail, but one he always remembered nevertheless. Your arms always wrapped around him so hesitant at first, but then you’d almost melt into him for a moment, expelling the softest little sigh that he always wondered about, even then in that moment.

And that’s what Matt believed would be his last thought. The memory of that soft, contented sigh that always confused him whenever you hugged him.

Except it wasn’t his last thought because he hadn’t died in the explosion. He’d somehow been spared. Saved. But all he could think about since he had woken without his senses was how absurd that was considering God had clearly turned his back on him. He’d been spared for what? What was the point of him without his heightened senses that he’d always thought God had bestowed on him?

So he’d decided to let Matt Murdock die at Midland Circle. He figured he would finally listen to Stick–he’d cut out the people in his life he cared about who cared about him in order to keep them safe. Foggy, Karen, and you.

You were all safer without him. Safer thinking he was dead and gone.

And then he would just be Daredevil. Nothing left to live for, nothing left to lose.

Matt heard the faint, muddled sound of footsteps hitting his ears as someone descended the church’s basement steps. The sound pulled him from his bleak thoughts. Gradually he pushed himself upright, leaning against the stone of whatever it was he’d tripped over. He wasn’t surprised when he heard Sister Maggie’s voice speak a moment later. It was only ever her or Father Lantom that checked on him down here to begin with.

“What on earth are you doing on the floor?” Sister Maggie asked.

Matt huffed out a frustrated breath from his place on the hard floor. He could hear Maggie’s footsteps approaching him and he tried to focus on them, attempting to lock on to her movement in the room.

“Falling, apparently,” he muttered bitterly.

He heard the way Sister Maggie sighed, the noise coming from nearby. He realized she’d lowered to sit on the floor next to him a few seconds later when he registered her body temperature near his right side.

“I brought you something,” she told him.

“I’m guessing food?” he asked flatly. “Not like I can smell anything still. Everything tastes the same too–like blood and ash.”

Matt felt Sister Maggie press something into his hand. It was long and cylindrical. Wrapped in something like a wax paper wrapping.

“It’s a sandwich from the deli nearby,” she said. “Thought you might enjoy it more than the soup Sister Ethel made tonight for the children.”

Matt’s fingers ran over the paper wrapper for a moment, trying to ignore the stirring in his chest at the kind gesture from Sister Maggie.

“Thank you,” Matt murmured.

He heard her unscrew the cap of something next. It sounded like a pill bottle; the sound of a few pills rattled out of it and into her hand.

“Brought you water, too,” she continued. “And you need to keep taking these.”

Matt held out a hand expectantly, waiting for her to drop the two pills into his upturned palm as she came down here to do every few hours. When she did, he quickly tossed them into his mouth. Holding out his hand again, Sister Maggie handed him an opened bottle of water. He drank down the pills, frowning as he swallowed and stared blankly ahead.

“How’s the hearing?” she asked.

Matt made a face, the fingers of his left hand absently fiddling with the sandwich wrapper again. “Still can’t hear for shit,” he replied.

“Well your body took quite a beating,” she told him. “Everything’s swollen. Maybe your hearing will come back when it goes down.” There was a brief pause before she added, “Or maybe it’ll come back when you finally take your head out of your ass.”

A sharp, bitter laugh fell out of Matt at her words. He hadn’t been expecting that, but she'd been full of crass and unexpected comments like that since he'd woken here.

Humorless laughter subsiding quickly, a heavy silence fell around the pair of them. Matt didn't need his extra senses to know there was more she wanted to say. And he had a feeling he knew what it would be, too.

"What?" he asked.

He briefly registered the sound of Sister Maggie’s shoes lightly tapping along the cement floor, almost like a nervous fidget. Matt's frown only deepened as he waited in silence.

"She was back again this evening," she eventually said.

Matt's eyelids slowly lowered, his heart feeling like it sank to the floor beside him. She didn't have to even say your name, he knew she meant you. Father Lantom had told him he'd seen you every day here for over a week now. Always bent over a pew in prayer–which was odd because he knew you weren't religious and you weren’t a parishioner at Clinton Church.

"Who is she?" Sister Maggie asked curiously. "She comes here everyday grieving over you. I saw her at your memorial service with those friends of yours that you refuse to call friends.”

“Just someone who used to be a friend, too,” Matt mumbled morosely.

“Seems like more than a friend with how often she frequents this church because of you,” Sister Maggie replied. “Paul seems to think so, too.”

Matt’s head darted towards her at her words, his brows furrowing. “Father Lantom has spoken with her?” he asked. “He’s never told me that.”

“Mmm, oh yes,” Maggie answered. “Often. She comes around the same time every evening. Just after work. Always praying silently in the same pew. Paul says she doesn’t believe you’ve actually died.”

Matt’s brows drew together even further on his forehead, his mouth going dry. “What?” he breathed out.

“She refuses to believe you're dead without a body,” Sister Maggie explained. “And she’d be right, because you aren’t dead. But you are stubborn as hell, though. Tormenting your friends like this. Letting them think you’re dead and forcing them to mourn the loss of you. Letting that poor young woman up there put her life on hold–”

“She’s not putting her life on hold,” Matt cut her off sharply. “She’ll move on soon enough.”

Sister Maggie drew in a deep breath, silence once again falling between the pair of them. Matt’s attention shifted back to the space in front of him. His fingers were still absently fiddling with the sandwich wrapper.

Why were you coming here every day praying for him though? Refusing to believe he’d died? Why not just mourn with Foggy and Karen and move on already? Just forget about him. He wasn’t any good for you anyway. You deserved a better friend, one who wasn’t in love with you and keeping your secret from Foggy just because he was selfish.

“Was she more than your friend, Matthew?”

The question broke through his thoughts, Matt’s face scrunching together in confusion at the unexpectedness of it. Why would she even ask that?

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “She’s just a friend. From Columbia.”

“Hmm,” Sister Maggie hummed curiously. “But you love her, don’t you?”

Matt’s teeth grit together, his jaw clenching in frustration at that question. He had been trying his best to ignore those feelings. And also–how the hell could she possibly know that?

“You flinch everytime Paul or I say her name,” she clarified. “Every time we tell you she’s been by the church crying again. It hurts you that she’s hurting. I can see it plain on your face, Matthew. It’s killing you.”

“She’s not safe being around me,” Matt ground out.

Sister Maggie scoffed loudly. “That’s bullshit and self-pity talking,” she shot back. “Clearly the woman loves you, too. Why keep up the lie? Why keep hurting her?”

Matt shook his head, his fist tightening around the bottle of water in his right hand. “She’s in love with our mutual best friend. She’s told me that already,” he gritted out. “And she’ll move on from the loss of me.”

He heard the frustrated sigh come from the nun beside him, vaguely aware of her rising back up to her feet. For some reason the thought of her leaving him alone again down here had him grinding his teeth harder together. He didn’t want to be alone. But it was better if he learned to live like that.

“I think you’re being foolish and stupid,” Sister Maggie stated bluntly. “Causing undue harm to those you love most–and it's only going to backfire on you. And if you really think that young woman repeatedly coming here doesn’t have feelings for you, you’re more foolish than I ever thought.”

Sister Maggie’s steps slowly grew fainter and fainter until he could no longer hear them anymore. His focus shifted down to the sandwich in his lap that she’d brought him, his fingers carefully tearing the paper open.

She didn’t know what she was talking about, he thought angrily to himself. Sister Maggie couldn’t possibly understand the decisions he’d made or why you kept coming to Clinton Church. He’d been one of your best friends–a shitty one, truthfully–and you were grieving. That was all.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fic #daredevil x reader #matt murdock

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peterman-spideyparker · 8 months

Text

my tears ricochet (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader) 3/5

Author’s Note: Hi! This part is more angst, I’m sorry. I promise things will turn up eventually! I wouldn't put everyone through all this angst for nothing! Enjoy!

Summary: You're alive, but barely. Matt blames himself.

Warnings: Angst, unresolved feelings, canon-typical violence, vague wound descriptions/unconsciousness, friends arguing, post-season two/pre-Defenders era Matt, swearing

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson

Word Count: 1,193

Matt’s thankful for every beep on the monitor that he hears, but he can’t help but hate it. The robotic, cold monotone mocks him. It announces his shortcomings, his failures. He wasn’t strong enough, fast enough, good enough to save you or Elektra that night. Elektra’s dead, and the doctors aren’t exactly sure where you stand. You made it through surgery, a long surgery, but there was a lot of trauma and blood loss. A waiting game, they said. He’s always hated that phrase. Nothing attached to those words has ever been fun, only painful. And now it’s attached to you and your life.

He remembers when he first met you at Columbia. You had walked by him in the hall, your pomegranate and honey shampoo catching his attention. When he went into his next class about a half hour later, you were there, second row to the front, just off center to the right. Matt’s feet led him to the open seat next to you, using his cane to push the guy with the expensive cologne away from the coveted free seat to your right. He gave you a small smile as he sat down, and he could tell you did the same, softly introducing yourself and making small talk until class began. It took you a while to tell him about your family and your background, and he could tell that you were nervous as you did, waiting for some kind of shoe to drop when you finished—maybe that you expected him to ask for money or if you could help him get a job somewhere. You didn’t expect him to appreciate you for you, only what you could potentially do for him. When he gave you a smile and cracked a joke, saying that he still wouldn’t let you pay for ice cream next time you guys walked through Central Park, you let out a little laugh. His heart skipped a beat when he heard that, how your posture relaxed, and when he sensed how you smiled back at him. After that, it was always you, him, and Foggy, and if Foggy wasn't around, Matt would manage to find his way to your side—it was a pace he never wanted to leave. A place that felt like home. Something he hadn’t really felt since his dad died.

But when Matt met Elektra, everything changed and he pushed you away. Part of Matt always thought you’d be there for him—you’re his friend through thick and thin, why wouldn’t you still be there for him? But when that relationship went up in flames and Matt needed refuge to lick his wounds and work through his feelings, you were long gone, tired of waiting for him to come around, hurt by the last person—the only person—that you thought you could really, truly trust. And now you’re here, barely hanging on because you re-entered his life at the wrong time.

He's a real fucking lucky charm, isn't he?

Matt leans back in the uncomfortable hospital chair, letting out a long breath as he lets a new wave of shame roll over him. Foggy puts a hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“Two people I love are hurt because of me,” Matt croaks, hanging his head. “Elektra is dead, and (Y/N/N) is barely hanging on.”

“We’d be in worse trouble if you didn’t do any of what you did on the rooftop,” Foggy tries to console him. Matt’s still surprised he’s in the same room as him after how he has treated his best friend and partner.

“I ruin everything I touch, huh?” He angrily wipes away a tear.

“Matt, this was beyond anything anyone could have imagined. It—.”

“It’s the best if I stay out of all your lives. That way, no one else gets hurt. I won’t let anyone else down.”

“Matt, don’t be obtuse, that’s ridiculous.”

“But it’d be effective.” He sniffles and stands, putting his glasses back on. “It’s the way it has to be. It’s the only way I can keep people safe.”

“So what’s gonna happen when (Y/N/N) wakes up and wants to talk to you? ‘Sorry, he’s ghosting everyone because he’s going full Batman broody.’ She’ll need you—you were with her that night, you’re the only person who knows what kind of trauma she went through—.”

“And that’s exactly why I should leave!” he snaps. “You heard the doctor—she barely had enough blood in her to keep her organs in salvageable when she got here, and the blade absolutely shredded her internally. It barely missed her spinal column. She could have been paralyzed if it was a half inch over. It’s better for everyone if I disappear. She doesn’t have to see me and remember anything from that rooftop or remember everything I’ve done to her.”

“You don’t think she’d think about that without seeing you? And what about when she sees her scars? What about when she needs to talk to someone, to have a shoulder to cry on, because everything from that night haunts her? Who’s she gonna call when she has nightmares? No one knows what she went through but her and you. You can’t leave her alone again.”

“I didn’t leave her the first time.”

“Bullshit. You left. You chose not to stay. You cut her out cold. You weren’t around to see it, but that’s when she changed. That’s when she closed herself off, started to do everything her parents wanted. That’s when she lost herself. It was heartbreaking to watch that, Matt, but you wouldn’t know, because even after Elektra, you didn’t care enough to rebuild that bridge and see the damage you did.”

Matt’s voice is cold and low when he speaks next: “You have no idea how much I cared.”

“You say you care, but you’re so ready to let her suffer alone.”

“You don’t have a goddamn right to say shit like that. She didn’t want to see me.”

“How do you know? Did you try?”

“Foggy—.”

“There was still half of the school year left for you to fix things. You didn’t even try to—.”

“We’re done talking about this.”

“Right. Walking away because it’s easier and because it didn’t go your way. God forbid you actually have to address your feelings!”

“Excuse me?”

“You couldn’t juggle school and Elektra, so you were ready to throw it all away. Hell, you almost did. This time, you couldn't juggle your job and Elektra, so you walked away from the people who needed and relied on you. Now, when that fell apart even further, you’re walking away from the consequences and once more, the people that need you most." Foggy scoffs, venom dripping from his words. "You know what? It is probably best that you’re not here when she wakes up, because if you’re not even the person I called my best friend for years, you’re sure as shit not who she loved in college.” Foggy grabs his things as he walks toward the door, leaving Matt alone with his consequences that weigh him down like cement bricks in the Hudson.

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bunmurdock · 2 months

Note

hey bun :) what you said ab performance anxiety got me thinking... i love the new/young lawyer take, but may i present to you: bitter academic rivals w dark!mean!matt

you’re an anxiety-ridden student at Columbia Law and you have a visceral hate for Matthew Murdock. he’s always been cocky and smug, sometimes even downright mean with the snide comments he makes about your test scores falling just short of his. you have no clue what the hell you did to make an enemy of him, but when two weeks pass and he still makes an effort to contradict every point you make in front of the entire class, you’re over him being a menace and start being snippy back.

thus begins a long, long semester of the two of you trading thinly veiled insults and barbed comments, only cordial when in front of professors (and sometimes Foggy, who’s become something of a neutral mediator that both of you had an unspoken agreement to respect).

but as finals approach, you’re starting to work yourself into a frenzy. your caffeine intake has skyrocketed. you barely eat, and when you do, it’s granola bars and chips and sometimes fruit roll ups (i.e. library snacks that can be easily stowed in your bag), not actual food. you’re always in the library, leaving in the early hours of the morning to trudge to your dorm to catch a few hours of sleep before dragging yourself out of bed to get to the dining commons as soon as they open, scarfing down whatever is quickest, and then hightailing it back to the library before it gets packed.

it’s become something of a routine for you, to the point that even Matt has noticed. and far from being relieved that his academic rival was driving herself into the ground trying to beat him (which strokes his ego, i’m sure), Matt is more… irritated? like, you and Foggy are the only people he really keeps a metaphorical eye on. it’d be hard not to with Foggy because that’s his roommate, but with you, he’d actually had to put some effort into getting to know you (i.e. stalking recon), so he’s more than a little miffed that your downfall is going to be at your own hands instead of his own. sure, he’d still win this little cat and mouse game you two have been playing, but it wouldn’t be as satisfying, you know?

the day before your final, you’re barely even functioning. you’ve been running off caffeine and empty calories for so long that your memory has started to suffer, a fact you’d become forced to come to terms with when you got to the library and realized you’d been in such a hurry to leave that you’d left your laptop—which held all your notes and court documents—on your desk, charging.

you’d been close to tears as you made the trek back to your dorm, feeling as though everyone you passed was staring at you, aware of your monumental mistake.

as you fumble with your keys in front of your door, you could already feel yourself choking up, your vision blurry as the tears well up in your eyes. god, you’d been working so fucking hard for the past week. you were in the home stretch now, the second most important day of the semester (the first being actual day of the final, of course) and you somehow managed to screw up in the most pathetic way possible. it was your fucking laptop, for god’s sake! how stupid could you be to forget the one object that was arguably the most important thing in your life at this moment.

sniffling, you just managed to get your door open when you hear someone say your name behind you. you turn around and see Matt of all people. you’re too sleep-deprived to be mad (or wonder how he’d gotten in your building without a key, or how he’d even known what building you lived in), and it takes all your energy to tell him, “i’m not in the mood.”

it comes out more defeated than you’d wanted it to, but you’re too tired to care, hurrying inside and going to shut the door—only for Matt to shoot out a hand and stop it just before it closes.

“the fuck do you want, Murdock?” you ask, your voice shaky and exasperated. “i promise you can’t make my day any worse than it is, so don’t waste your time.”

his expression is one of contemplation, his eyebrows furrowed behind his dark glasses. “you’re upset,” he states, sounding almost… disappointed?

you can’t help but laugh wetly at how fucking pathetic you must be for the blind guy to notice. “and?” you challenge, the word feisty despite your obvious distress. you try to shut the door again, but he doesn’t let you, an aggravated noise leaving you as the conversation is prolonged. “why do you care?”

he pauses for a moment, weighing his words carefully. “you need an 89% on the final to stay at an A,” he says evenly, and you’re too tired to wonder how he knows your grade. “if you want to go up to an A+, though, you need at least a 94%.”

your eye twitches in irritation, and you get the strong urge to punch him right in his stupid face. you manage to control yourself though, gritting out, “get to the point or i’m breaking your nose.”

it’s a bluff. you’ve never punched anyone in your life, but you know how to make a fist without breaking your thumb and you’re angry enough to not be worried about the consequences of violence against another student—a dangerous combination as far as you’re concerned. Matt, however, seems delighted at the prospect, his eyebrows raising in silent challenge as the cocky grin you’ve grown to hate slides onto his face.

“my point,” he says slowly, as though explaining it to a child, “is that i’m already going to get points taken off my final because of that little stunt i pulled last week.” he’s referring to last Wednesday, when he’d gotten so pissed off at the professor’s reasoning for a case he’d been a judge for that he’d blatantly insulted him in front of the entire class, and had been swiftly told that points would be docked for ‘unprofessionalism’. “so even if i ace the test, i won’t be getting any higher than an A in the course.”

you blink once in the 10-second silence that follows, understanding what Matt was saying but not understanding why he was saying it.

Matt sighs, as though not sure why you weren’t quite getting it. “you want to beat me, right?” he asks exasperatedly.

“well, duh,” you say, though your thoughts are admittedly more along the lines of physically beating him rather than beating him academically.

“so stop fucking crying,” he spits condescendingly, leaning in close to hiss the words mere inches away from your face.

you’re not totally sure what comes over you, but your fuse is so short that you don’t even hesitate, flinging the door open and smacking him across the face. the sound echoes through the deserted hallway, and in the silence that follows, you’re not sure who’s more surprised, you or Matt.

apologizing is out of the question. he was being an asshole. he’s been an asshole to you all semester, and though you’d done your best to give as good as you got, it was tiring to have to mentally prepare yourself for every 2-hour lecture just because Matt was going to pick on you. he was an asshole. he’d deserved it. but still, smacking a blind guy who had no real way to defend himself didn’t exactly sit right with you.

for a moment, you both stare at each other, jaws dropped, and in the next, Matt has surged forward, crashing your lips together. the kiss is rough and messy, but you’re too tired (and he’s too horny) to care. his foot kicks the door shut and he spins you around so that you’re pressed against it, caging you in with his body. you have half a mind to try and shove him off, to hit him again and tell him to get the fuck out. Matt had been a pain in your ass since day one, constantly taunting you and belittling your knowledge of the law. he wasn’t someone you’d ever pictured yourself doing this with… but then he shoves a leg between yours, chucking menacingly at the strangled sound that leaves you, and your mind begins to spiral with a mix of fatigue and—surprisingly—arousal.

“always so fucking difficult,” he mutters between kisses, his fingers already dipping beneath the waistband of your sweatpants. “if i’d known all it took to shut you up was some goading and a kiss, i’d’ve done this sooner.”

he dips his head to kiss you again, and you bite at his lip and palm at his hard on in retaliation, smugly noting the way his hips twitch and his jaw clenches.

“funny,” you say breathily, all thoughts of the library and studying and your forgotten laptop drifting away. “i was about to say the same thing.”

both of you are breathing heavily, sharing the same air, but you gasp as Matt’s fingers slip between your legs, gently running along the hem of your underwear, as though the stitching was a boundary he wouldn’t dare cross without permission.

“i have a proposition,” he says, his tone strained. “every time i make you come, you get three hours of sleep.”

you blink, surprised. “t-that’s your proposition? you want me to get more sleep?” the next moment, your eyes narrow, your sleepy, paranoid mind wondering if this is all some ploy to get you to study less and do worse on the final. “are you trying to make me fail?”

Matt huffs out a laugh, and—weirdly—your heart skips a beat. “i’m trying to make sure you don’t.”

you lick your lips, thinking quickly. “counteroffer,” you say, your own mischievous grin mirroring Matt’s. “every time i make you come, you get a question wrong.”

a triumphant smile makes its way onto your face as Matt’s grin falters, his eyebrows jumping up in surprise. you’d been around Matt long enough to know that he’d have no problem acing the test, but with the professor already docking points for his antics during class, if you could get him to intentionally answer 1 or 2 questions wrong, his grade would drop to an A- or maybe even to a B+, giving you the chance to finally take his spot as #1.

“you can’t be serious,” he says, seeming astonished that you would even propose that.

you make a nonchalant noise, shrugging. “you’d be surprised,” you say, impressed with your own ruthlessness. “if you’re not willing to take the risk, though…” you trail off, pointedly removing your hand from the bulge in his pants and smirking at the way his mouth immediately twists into a scowl.

you’ve got him—hook, line, and sinker.

“fine,” he grits out, taking off his dark glasses. his voice is aggravated but there’s a bit of a manic pride to the smile that makes its way back onto his face, as though he was reveling in the (minimal) danger posed by your suggestion but also proud of that you had thought of such a scheme.

you barely get the chance to celebrate your victory—and admire just how pretty his eyes are—before his lips are on yours again, his fingers rubbing at your clit until you’re a panting mess. you come once against the door, your moans muffled by his mouth on yours. by the time you’ve quieted down, he pulls back, suave and cocky once more.

“one.”

leading him to your bed takes a while, as you’re both shedding clothes while simultaneously trying not to trip on them as they’re discarded. your fingers are fumbling with the button of his pants when he shoves you down onto the bed, kneeling down and resting your legs on his shoulders as he dips his head down and starts licking and sucking at your still-sensitive clit, easing a finger into you as he works you back up again. he’s able to fit three of his fingers in your pussy before you come again, this time having to use a pillow to muffle the sounds you make and avoid being found out.

“two,” Matt pants, his voiced strained as he rests his forehead against your thigh, his cock throbbing.

it’s halfway to your third orgasm that he finally breaks, spilling inside his boxers like a fucking teenager as he eats you out, the taste of you on his tongue too much for him to handle. you raise yourself up on your elbows, half-surprised and half-flattered at the dark spot on his front.

“one,” you giggly teasingly, your mind so foggy with both fatigue and pleasure that everything seems funny.

Matt only grins in response, quickly shucking off his pants and boxers as he catches his breath, a wicked gleam in his unfocused hazel eyes.

“i'm still winning,” he says, catching his breath. “i’ll take those odds."

long story short, you sleep 9 hours, the irresistible tug of sleep trying to pull your eyes shut almost immediately after your third orgasm, your body completely wrung out. Matt makes you drink some water before he redresses, pulling a granola bar and some fruit gummies from the bag he’d had slung over his shoulder and placing them on your nightstand, knowing that at this point you're really only half-conscious and trying to get you to eat now would be impossible.

he dresses you in his shirt and helps you back into bed, chuckling softly as how you immediately burrow beneath the blankets, snug and warm and... cute. he brushes the hair out of your face in a movement that’s much too fond for what’s supposed to be a casual hookup borne of spite. you think you feel soft lips ghost against your temple right as your eyes slide shut, but you’re probably just imagining it… right?

-⭐️

BROOOO YOU WROTE HIM LIKE A MEAN VERSION OF COCKY!S1 MM SOBBBBING SO HARDDDD

matt murdock who is doubly cocky and triply intelligent and will play cruel, twisted mind games with you but not let you sabotage yourself WHIMPERING SO LOUD SMOKE COMING OUT OF MY EARS BANGING MY FISTS ON THE TABLE

also:

“so stop fucking crying,” he spits condescendingly, leaning in close to hiss the words mere inches away from your face.

H- HEY. *visibly shaking and tearing up* HEY UM WHY.. HOW DID YOUR BRAIN THINK THAT UP AND NOT EXPLO- *explodes*

reader in this fic is so so cute i’m gnawing on my fist. i love the way you characterize both of them, it’s hypnotizing. and maddeningly hot how toxic he is before they hook up whimper.. ꩜_꩜

ANYWAY, THIS FIC IS MY LAST STRAW OKAY. i’ve been getting many a masterpiece in my inbox, i will be creating a masterlist soon so followers can read and reread these posts, attributions to respective emoji friends and all. this is too good to get lost in my inbox tag. thank you so much for sharing, please come back.

share your mm thoughts

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #dark!mm nonnie is back.. im making a mf shrine in my apartment in hells kitchen for u holy fuck #⭐️.txt #inbox #bunny brain #>500 words #matt murdock angst #dark!matt #mean!matt #college!matt #student!reader #shy!reader #!degradation #!oral #!impactplay

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im-sleepdeprived · 4 months

Text

Seasonal • Pt. 2

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: inspired by the taylor swift song ‘peter’ where you and peter discover just how hard it is to hold on to something from your past, no mater how much you love each other

a/n: things are progressing :)) right now im picturing this series as 5 parts, also i’ve been getting tons of requests and TRUSTTTT that as soon as this series is over I’ll be working on those🫡

warnings: none really, some (lots) angst, some pining, there are some time skips both forward and backwards and I don’t have them marked (sorry !) but theyre pretty easy to spot imo, healthy family relationships :(

masterlist, read part 1 here

You blew out a breath as you set down the last box. “Ok, I think we’re done sweetie,” said your dad from his spot across the room.

You collapsed on the bed, exhausted from hauling boxes into your new dorm. The place you’ll be living for the next school year. “Your mom’s already in the car, said she couldn’t handle this part.”

You sat up and smiled. “Yeah, I don’t know if I can either.”

Your dad chuckled. “Come here kiddo.” You stood up and walked over, your dad pulling you into a warm embrace. “If you need anything, just let us know, we’ll be here faster than you can blink.”

“I’ll be okay,” you whispered.

“And…try to make friends honey. It’s a new place, new people. Get out there, okay? Promise me you won’t just lock yourself in here all the time.”

“I promise,” you pulled away. “I actually have an orientation to get to in about an hour, I’m sure I’ll meet tons of people there.”

“I love you,” he squeezed your shoulders for emphasis. “I know this was hard for you, breakups-”

“Dad I promise I’m fine.” You didn’t want to talk about this at all, let alone with your father.

He stared at you for a while before seemingly giving up. Your dad let out a sigh, “Fine. But if you decide this isn’t for you, if you think college completely sucks I’ll come pick you up in a heartbeat.”

You smiled and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, Dad. Tell Mom I love her.”

“Will do kid,” he ruffled your hair. “Now let me get outta here before I start sobbing.”

You laughed and gave him one last hug before waving him off. You fell onto your bed again and let out a sigh. Across the room stood another bed, empty. For now. You hadn’t met your roommate, and you didn’t really want to. You weren’t in the mood for introductions and small talk. You weren’t even sure if you were up for going to that orientation you’d told your dad about, it was recommended, not mandatory.

There was only one person you wanted to talk to, whose voice you craved to hear. The problem was, it was the one person you couldn’t call.

Columbia definitely wasn’t going how you thought it would.

Your first week flew by, you’d met all of your professors and for the most part, they were all pretty nice. You’d even made some friends; a girl named Marissa and another one named Lola. You’d met them both at the freshman orientation andthey were really sweet. You ended up going after your dad had sent you a little reminder (you wondered if he had known you were lying) and you figured it couldn’t hurt. They were nice enough people and it was good to get to know your peers. Your roommate, Lindsay, had come in on your second day, but apparently, she was dating some dude who owned an apartment right off campus and she spent most of her time there.

Clubs and all different frats and sororities were camping out in little booths all around campus trying to get new members. Seeing the photography club’s booth sent a sharp jab of pain through your heart every time. It was even worse when you realized one of the biggest photography classes was in the building right next to the English building, which is where most of your classes would be taking place. For your whole time there.

It was one day a couple of weeks into your classes, you were exiting a class where you been debating whether it was better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all. Some students were talking privately, but the teacher had overheard them and made it a class discussion, exclaiming that she thought it was 'a trendy enough subject to raise engagement and break the ice’.

Then as you stepped out of the doors to your class, a flyer flew in from beside you and landed right at your feet. When you picked it up you realized it was a flyer for the annual photography competition. It was actually a pretty big thing around here and you’d heard a few students talking about it.

You didn’t usually believe in signs but these seemed pretty clear.

Without overthinking it, you pulled out your phone.

hey

saw something abt photography and thought of you lol. how are you hows school so far ?

You bit your lip in anticipation. You weren’t expecting him to reply right away but…you were nervous he might not have even replied at all.

He was the one who’d said maybe no contact for a while might help, but he’d also said you could call him whenever, and he’d be there for you, no matter what.

i was just thinking about you

The words made your heart skip a beat as you saw them sprawled across your screen.

school’s great, still trying to get the hang of things but it’s gotten easier

my roommate’s kinda boring, but maybe that’s for the best. he could be a crazy person

You laughed until another message showed up on your screen.

how’s columbia? is it everything you dreamed it would be?

no of course not. we were supposed to go here together, we were supposed to BE together. i can’t go anywhere without thinking of you and all i want to do is call you and hear your voice and for things to be okay between us again.

But you couldn’t send that.

yeah ! it’s great but like you said, lots of adjusting haha

are you happy?

And you weren’t sure what it was exactly, but something about that text made you tear up. Were you happy? The answer should’ve been an automatic yes, you’d gotten into your dream school after stressing all year about it, you had got the classes you wanted, and everything was seemingly fine. Great even. But you couldn’t shake the hollow emptiness you’d been carrying since graduation.

You’d gotten what you’d wanted, yes. It just wasn’t how you’d imagined it.

yeah i am :)

glad to hear it ace

look ive got to go i have a class starting. talk to you soon

bye pete

bye

It wasn’t normal. At least, it wasn’t your normal and you hated it. But maybe now, it was.

Your heart raced when you saw the notification. You were so close to tapping it, reading the whole thing but you held back. Columbia’s acceptance emails went out today and you and Peter were supposed to open yours together.

You were waiting for him on the fire escape bouncing your leg up and down anxiously. Checking your phone for the time again, you decided you’d just call him.

“Hey Ace,” you heard his voice through the speaker, along with an array of other noises.

“You’re out. Are you out? It’s okay, we can talk later.” You replied quickly.

Peter chuckled on the other end. “No, it’s fine. I’m just swinging.”

You frowned. “I thought we agreed, no swinging and talking. You get too distracted Petey.”

“No you agreed Ace, I just politely listened.” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Peter,” you said in a warning tone.

“Sorry, sorry.” He laughed. “I’m on my way.”

“Oh?”

“Duh. I know what today is, I got my notification. I’m almost there.”

“Have you checked?”

“‘Course not Ace,” he chuckled. “Have you?”

“No, no way, of course not.”

“Great, I’ll be there in five.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then,” you pulled the phone away to hang up and you could hear his protesting. Quickly, you yelled into the speaker, “Watch where you’re swinging babe!” And you hit the red button.

He always said he preferred swinging on call with you, but there’d been too many close calls of him almost swinging into a building or in front of a car for you to be okay with it.

Sure enough, in almost exactly five minutes Peter landed on your fire escape, feet on the ground, perfectly contact.

“Good, you're here.” You rushed over and pulled him into a hug, kissing his cheek as he swiped his mask off.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “Thank you for waiting Ace, I’m sure it must’ve driven you crazy.”

“No, I’m good.” You said too quickly to sound true.

He laughed. “Okay,” he pulled away and gripped your shoulders. He shook you slightly and grinned. “Let’s do this!”

You sit down on the floor cross-legged and unlock your phone. Peter followed suit as you stared at him. You both pulled up your applications, ready to see the change in your status.

Accepted or denied.

A new door to your future, either opened or slammed in your face.

“Ready?” He asked you gently.

“Yeah, are you?”

He nodded. “Okay on the count of three. One. Two. Three.”

You clicked. You almost didn’t want to read and you were sure if Peter weren’t there you would’ve stalled a little more, but the words were in front of you now.

Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

Congratulations! It is a pleasure for me to inform you that you have been accepted for admission to Columbia College.The faculty and staff would like to commend you on your past accomplishments, which formed the basis of our admission decision in a highly competitive pool of applicants. We look forward to working with you in your future academic endeavors. Please visit the Welcome to Columbia website at:

You stopped reading. Your mouth hung open and you couldn’t believe it. You kept rereading that first sentence over and over as if it would morph before your eyes and call you out for believing it in the first place.

You looked up. Peter had a similarly awestruck expression on his face as he met your eyes.

“What does yours say?”

He laughed. “Nuh-uh. I asked first Ace.”

Silently, you hand him your phone, letting him see for himself because you can't even form the words. You got in.

It didn’t take him long, probably only reading the first few words before he put the phone down and pulled you into a tight hug.

“I’m so proud of you Ace,” he whispered. “See? I told you you’d get in.”

You squeezed him. “I love you so much Petey, but come on you need to show me yours, s’only fair.”

“Don’t wanna,” he mumbled into your hair.

Your brows furrowed. Why wouldn’t he want to show you? It would only make you happier to read his acceptance letter as well. You pulled away and reached for his phone on the floor. Peter didn’t stop you.

Dear Peter Parker,

The Committee on Admissions has carefully reviewed your application to Columbia University, and we are sorry to inform you that we cannot offer you a place in—

You couldn’t believe it. You read it over and over and over again. Never once in a million years did you think Peter wouldn’t get in. The boy was a fucking genius and you couldn’t believe they would reject him.

“Ace it’s not that big of a deal, honestly-”

“What? Of course it is,” you looked up at him, anger coursing through your veins. “They’re fucking idiots. They’re pieces of shit and this,” you held up his phone, “this is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever seen.”

He cracked a small smile. “Actually, that’s my phone. With you on the lock screen mind you.”

You weren’t feeling it. “Peter, they suck.”

“Obviously not if they accepted you.”

“Nuh-uh,” you shook your head quickly. “I don’t wanna go.”

“What?”

“No,” you shook your head some more. “I don’t trust people with such terrible judgment to lead me into my ‘future academic endeavors’. I don’t trust those little shits at all.”

“Ace come on, you don’t mean that.” He gave you a look.

“No, I totally do. Actually, I might just-”

He cut you off, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your mouth. But just as soon as it’d begun, it was over. Peter leaned back, “That always works whenever you’re too worked up.”

“Peter,” you said, and your voice sounded defeated.

“Ace listen to me,” he cupped your face and stared straight into your eyes. “You are going to go to that school, and you’re gonna love it. There is absolutely no way I’m running this for you.”

“You’ll ruin it by not being there,” you mumbled.

“No, I won’t. Because you’re going to be too busy blowing everyone's mind and being the absolute best version of yourself that you can be.”

You laughed softly but it held no humor in it. “But we were supposed to go together.”

“But that shouldn’t stop you from enjoying it without me. So what if I didn’t get in? I applied to other schools, greatschools. And if I really feel like it, I can always transfer, it’s easier that way isn’t it?”

“And what about us?” You bit the inside of your cheek anxiously.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to us Ace,” he smooshed your face making you laugh. “Just because we aren’t going to the same school doesn’t mean we have to break up.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You weren’t aware of just how terrified you’d been for the future of your relationship until he’d said that. You know people had little to no faith in high school relationships but…something was different about you and Peter. You were sure of it. You’d get through this.

You made your way through the halls. You were in an old building, one of the campus’ firsts, and you were on your way to the newsroom. Today was your first official day and to say you were nervous was an understatement. You knew how serious this was, they were the second-oldest college daily paper in the country, and they didn’t just let anyone onto their team. You were ready to prove yourself and prove that you’d be a great addition to the news staff.

Also, you needed something that would get you to stop thinking about Peter. You’d talked a few more times after that first week, and it was always you who initiated your chats. They never went past simple hey’s and how are you’s and then one of you (usually Peter) had to run off. It was so strange for you to think that once you two could’ve talked about nothing and everything for hours and now you could barely get past simple greetings.

You stopped in front of a door, checked the number beside it to make sure you had the right one and took a deep breath before turning the handle.

You heard all the commotion before you saw it, confirming your suspicions that this was the newsroom. Before you, the room was filled with desks, each one supporting its own computer and keyboard, most of them filled. Some desks were neat and tidy, their chairs empty, looking as if they hadn’t been touched. Others were the complete opposite, you couldn’t see the surface of them, they were covered in stacks and stacks of papers, loose pencil shavings, and various other items.

There was a whiteboard on the same side of the wall as the door and it was almost completely covered in lists, locations, and time stops for certain activities. There were copies of different editions of the paper framed and hanging on the wall. You smiled, this was perfect.

Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around and came face to face with a guy who looked to be a couple of years older than you. He had cropped black hair and stubble covering the entire bottom half of his face.

“First day, right?” He asked you.

You nodded quickly and offered him your hand. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

He accepted it and nodded. “Yeah, I remember you Y/L/N, your try-out piece was good. Really good.”

Pride bloomed in your chest and you gave him a smile. “Thanks. Where do you want me?” You gestured at the room.

He narrowed his eyes slightly before giving you the smallest of smiles, a little quirk on the sides of his lips. “Straight to business, I like that. Think we’re gonna get along pretty well Y/L/N, come on.” He started walking you through the room and introducing everyone and their roles. “I’m Brandon, the editor, over there we’ve got our photographers, that girl,” he pointed to a redhead working at her desk, “Alyssa, she’s editor-in-chief. Helps with things I can’t get around to and when there’s an overload of articles, like now.

“It’s not usually this crowded in here, usually the only people always in here are the writers but, you know, start of the school year,” he gestured vaguely, “lots of new editions, things to be sorted.” He stopped in front of one of the desks that looked like it hadn’t been touched. “This is your place. Actually, we already have something for you to work on.”

You sat in your chair and got adjusted. “Great! Anything.”

He smirked. “We need someone to cover the new bathrooms opening near Kent Hall. Good luck,” he tapped your desk before heading off to deal with other things.

You stared for a bit, when you’d said anything that wasn’t really what you meant, but you figured you had to start somewhere.

“Don’t worry,” a voice spoke from beside you and you turned towards him. “They do that to all the newbies, it’s like a right of passage or something. Write the shitty articles for the first few months, prove your worth, or some bullshit like that.” He rolled his eyes and gave you a small. Holding out his hand he said, “James Blake, nice to meet you.”

You returned his smile and shook his hand, “Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you too James.”

He grinned. James was blonde, he had a dazzling smile, and striking green eyes. Honestly, he looked more fit for a magazine cover, not a newsroom. “Well Y/N, I was in your shoes last year. It gets better,” he sent you a wink.

You laughed, “Actually, I don’t mind. I’m just happy to be here.”

“That’s the kinda attitude that’ll make you editor in a few years if you want it,” he clicked his tongue and leaned back in his chair.

You tried not to blush, his gaze was intense and you had a feeling he was trying to gauge what kind of reaction you’d have, though you weren’t sure why. “Right now the only thing I’m worried about are those new bathrooms near Kent.”

James laughed. “Fair enough. If you need anything, I’ll be right here. Don’t be shy to ask for help.” He winked at you again and you thanked him before turning on your computer and getting to work.

Your first day in the newsroom was mostly getting used to everything. The people were cool, you had a great time getting to know them all, and you could definitely see yourself working here for the rest of the year, even longer than you hoped. You’d written down the keynotes for your article and had planned to start working on it later that week after you walked over to Kent Hall and got a look for yourself. It was a lousy topic, sure, but that would stop you from trying your best and proving yourself.

It was true what they said, your first semester does fly by. Or at least that’s what you’d heard and now you understood. It was December now, almost winter break, and you almost couldn’t believe it.

Your first article on the Daily Spectator had gone over pretty well. It was small, practically pointless as it was shoved somewhere in the back where almost no one looks, but Brandon liked that you didn’t just half-ass it and he’d started to (gradually) give you better topics to work on. You were hoping that by the end of the year, you might get your hand on one of the campus hot topics.

You’d gone out a few times, Marissa and Lola from your first week were always inviting you out to different places andyou envied their easygoingness. You’d accepted a few times but you always went home earlier than them, you never seemed to really fit in those places.

Tonight, you were going out with a few of your friends from the newspaper. Over the past couple of months, you quickly became close with some of them, especially Alyssa. Even James, who was an okay guy, if a little cocky, but overall they were all good people.

One of your favorite things about Columbia was its campus and the fact that it was in the city. Walking around now, the snow glittered under all the lights, reminding you of the stars you and Peter used to watch together. You looked up at the empty sky and wondered if he could see any stars where he was now, if they reminded him of you.

You walked into the restaurant and took off your coat. You were wearing a simple sweater dress with a high neck and a pair of ankle boots. You spotted Alyssa sitting at a table waving you over and you smiled as you walked towards her.

“Hey everyone,” you took a seat beside Alyssa. Directly across from you, James shot you a grin.

“Hey Y/N, we’re still waiting on Nikki and Gavin,” Alyssa said. Her phone dinged and she checked it before saying, “That was her, they’ll be here in 5.”

Conversations flowed around the table and soon, Nikki and Gavin arrived. Everyone was laughing and having a great time and when the waiter arrived to take your orders, it took you a second to notice.

“Let me guess your order,” James leaned over the table with a small smile as the waitress started going around the table.

You grinned. “Go ahead.”

“Hmm…” he opened up the menu in front of him and pointed to a listing of words. “Shrimp?”

Laughing, you shook your head. “No.”

“Okay, okay. Are you vegan? Any food allergies I should know about?” He wondered.

“I’m getting the Fettucini Alfredo, what about you?” The way he gasped you thought you’d asked him to take his pants off right then and there.

He shook his head, “I can’t believe you ruined the game. I was supposed to guess Y/N.”

You winced. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, have you ever tried their steak?” He gave you one of his infamous smiles, “It’s great.”

“No actually, I haven’t been here before.”

“Really? Alright wait,” he held up a hand and turned his head. You hadn’t even realized the waitress had gotten to you. “I’ll have the ribeye, medium rare. And same for her,” he pointed towards you.

You stared as the waitress turned toward you. “Any sides?”

“Um, the seasoned fries with a cherry coke please.” You weren’t really sure what to order anymore, James had just completely thrown you off.

When the waitress finished up and walked away to hand your orders in, James turned toward you again. “You’re gonna love it, you’ll see.”

Jokes were shared around the whole table throughout the whole dinner and you were glad you got to have a night like this before finals week. James kept asking what you thought about the steak and while you didn’t hate it, you didn’t love it either. It wasn’t what you had wanted. But you didn’t want to hurt his feelings so you smiled and told him it was great.

By the end of the night, you were stuffed and ready to go home. “You sure you don’t wanna join? Nikki said she hooked up with one of the security guards once and she thinks she could get us into the VIP section.” You had just finished paying for your food and Alyssa was currently trying to convince you to head over to some club with them. And you might’ve been tempted if your phone hadn’t just buzzed in your hands. When you looked down you saw that it was a message. From Peter.

Your heart fluttered in your chest. He texted you.

“Sorry Lyss, I’m not up for it,” you made a face, “I’m pretty sure I’m about to start my period and I’m feeling a little off.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the complete truth.

She nodded in understanding. She pulled you in for a hug, “Alright, well if you need anything, let me know. And if you change your mind, the address was sent in the group chat.”

You smiled at her when you pulled away. Alyssa had the sweetest soul of anyone you’d met and you were glad to call her a friend. “I will thank you, and that goes for you too. If you need a ride or anything, let me know and I’ll come pick you up. And turn on your location.”

“Already done,” she grinned. You returned the grin and said your last goodbyes to everyone before making your way to the door, you were itching to step outside and open your phone. But instead, a hand gripped your shoulder. You turned around to see James smirking as he looked at you.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

You nodded, “Not really up for clubbing tonight, but you guys have fun!” You made to pull away but he held you back.

“You sure,” he furrowed his brows, “it’s not that late. If you come, you don’t even have to stay long.”

Smiling, you nodded again. “Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks for asking though.”

“Anytime,” he shot you another grin but…it wasn’t quite right. He still looked handsome as ever, sure, but if you didn’t know any better you’d think he looked a little disappointed. “Well, have a good night Y/N.”

“You too James, bye.” You waved at him and walked out the door without looking back. As soon as you were out the door, your phone was opened and in your messages app, opening you and Peter’s chat.

hey ace, how’ve you been?

hey pete <3 i’ve been good, just finished dinner with some friends. what about you ?

that’s nice I hope you had a good time.

i’m good thanks.

actually i wanted to ask what your plans for winter break are

nothing actually, you ?

i’m coming back home and i was wondering if i could see you

Your heart almost stopped. He wanted to see you.

You tried not to get your hopes up, it probably meant nothing. Obviously, you were still friends, or friendly, and maybe he just wanted to catch up. You could only share so much over text. Or maybe….maybe he’s been missing you just as much as you’ve been missing him and he’s realized all this was a big dumb mistake.

Maybe you were getting your hopes up.

i’d love that

when do you get here ?

You two stayed texting back and forth your whole walk home. He sent you a picture of his ticket and told you he and May would love to have you over the next day. You couldn’t fight the giddy smile that took over your face. You were ecstatic he reached out to you and you realized your texts together had probably been off because he was nervous. You knew how anxious he could get sometimes, and you hoped you could resolve that when you saw each other.

You settled in your dorm that night with your heart full and your face lit up. You hadn’t felt this overjoyed in a long time. You wondered what made him bite the bullet and ask, but you could ask him that when you see him. God, you were gonnasee him. This was all you’d been wanting since the summer and now the opportunity just fell into your lap.

You sat on your bed and fell asleep staring out the window with a smile on your face.

Graduation was right around the corner. The last week of school was a blur. Everyone was throwing parties, teachers were cutting you extra slack, and people who’d never hung out once in the four years they went to school together were all over each other now. It was sweet in a way. As much as you’d all complained and whined about everything, there was a sense of familiarity here, with each other, a community that was coming to an end and it was nice seeing people try to savor it while they could.

Peter had gotten into Duke. You were beyond excited and proud of him and you knew he was excited as well. But you couldn’t help the tiniest part of your brain that selfishly wondered what that meant for you. And honestly, you were scared to ask.

Peter hadn’t brought up anything about your relationship changing or anything else of the sort, so you thought he’d come to the same conclusion you had; you were going to try to do long distance.

Sure, it might be hard but honestly, it was better for you than the alternative, which was ending things. You would definitely choose long-distance over that. So you tried not to worry too much, he was probably thinking exactly like you.

You were sat in a booth at an ice cream parlor with MJ and Ned sitting across from you, and Peter beside you, arm slung over your shoulder. He’d been acting a little weird lately and you hoped this would help cheer him up, it was probably all those end-of-the-year jitters. You were all laughing together, going over all your (least) favorite memories from school.

“Who remembers when Flash brought all those stink sprays to school?” Peter said.

“Oh my god,” Ned started in his seat. “Some kid tripped over his backpack in fifth period and set them all off! The whole class smelled so bad they made us evacuate!”

Everyone cracked up but Ned wasn’t having it. He shook his head quickly, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why are you laughing? It’s not funny! I smelled so bad my mom wouldn’t let me in the house, she made me rinse with the hose in our front yard!”

That just made you all laugh even harder. “Oh my god,” you wheezed out. “I can’t breathe.”

MJ reached across the table and grabbed your hand. Looking you dead in the face with a serious expression she said, “Breathe girl.”

The whole table roared with laughter again. “Why did he have all those bottles of stink spray anyway?” wondered MJ.

“Knowing Flash he probably thought it was cologne,” grumbled Peter, making you laugh again.

Once you’d quieted down Ned leaned back in his spot and sighed. “I’m really gonna miss this.”

You looked around, trying to fully take in this moment. You had no doubt you would all manage to stay in touch but when was the next time you would all be hanging out like this? MJ was headed to Sarah Lawrence, Ned was going to MIT, you (of course) were going to Columbia, and Peter was going to Duke. Five hundred miles away from where you were going to be. 8 hours 27 minutes and 36 seconds.

Sure in the grand scheme of things, you were all still relatively close to each other but…you’d have separate lives. For so long your lives were so intertwined with each other’s and now, you’d have to fight to keep that connection otherwiseyou’d lose it. You reached under the table and grabbed Peter’s free hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. You would fight.

Peter squeezed your hand and you leaned in closer to him. “I’m gonna miss it too,” he said in a soft voice.

“Not me, I can’t fucking wait to get out of there. You guys keep talking though.” MJ said straight-faced making you giggle. You were thankful for her brutal honesty cause you were pretty sure if the conversation kept going in the other direction, it would end with you crying, and you didn’t want that.

The group of you finished your ice cream while talking, got even more ice cream, talked some more, and suddenly you could see the sun setting outside.

“Holy fuck,” you muttered, shoveling a spoon of double chocolate chip into your mouth. “I really thought we’ve only been here for five minutes.”

“Well, now we know what you need to work on before college, Y/N. Your time awareness, we’ve been here for hours.” MJ smirked.

You all laughed except Peter, who squeezed your shoulder and frowned. “She doesn’t need to work on anything, she’sperfect.”

You smiled and leaned over to kiss his cheek, “Thank you, Petey.”

He grinned cheekily at you, “Anytime, Ace.”

Mj rolled her eyes and cut you off with a loud groan. “Oh. My. God. We get it, you are disgustingly in love.” But you didn’t miss the small smile gracing her face.

“You’ll live,” you deadpanned.

She grumbled something you couldn’t make out but before you could ask her what it was, Ned’s phone started ringing. He picked it up and answered.

“Hey mom…already? But…” his voice quieted down. “Ok, ok I’m sorry. Yes, ma’am. Bye.”

He hung up and you were all quiet for a moment before he said, “I changed my mind, I’m so ready for college.”

He dropped his head into his hands, grumbling about something like it’s not funny! while you all laughed. Finally, he stood up. “I actually really do have to go though.”

You all stood up as well, saying your goodbyes. “Yeah I think we should get going too, what do you think?” Peter asked you.

You nodded as you pulled away from your hug with Ned. “I still need to pick up my cap and gown from the dry cleaners.”

Ned nodded, “I got mine earlier today.” You high-fived him and he walked over to Peter and you watched as they did their complicated handshake. They’d claimed otherwise when you’d said exactly that, stating it was just advanced, which you’d said was just geek for complicated.

You snorted as they did their little finger guns. “Dorks,” you muttered. But you loved it.

“You can say that again,” MJ agreed, and you knew she loved it too. Staring at her for a few seconds, you launched at her with your arms open and pulled her into a tight hug. She tensed up right away. “I know of your aversion to physical touch, but right now I don’t care,” you murmured, “you’re my best friend and I love you.”

To your surprise, she relaxed into your hold and even hugged you back. “I know I give you a lot of shit,” she whispered back, “but I love you too. All of you. And I’m gonna miss you like crazy.”

“We’re definitely gonna hang out, like all the time, don’t even worry about it.” You reassured her. It was already a pain that Peter would be so far away, you weren’t going to take your closer friends for granted.

She hugged you tighter, “I’m gonna hold you to that Y/L/N.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Jones,” you pulled away and gave her a wicked grin which she returned. Peter approached the two of you, placing a hand on your shoulder he said, “Ned just left.”

“Bye Parker,” she held out a closed fist for him to bump with his, “you’re pretty decent. She bumps you up to Okay.” She nodded towards you which made you blow her a kiss.

Peter chuckled as he fist-bumped her. “Thanks, MJ, I actually think you’re pretty great.”

She nodded, “Yeah, whatever. Still pretty decent.” She moved past you guys and waved as she exited through the door.

Peter sighed and leaned his head over to press a kiss to your hairline. “Hey,” you started, “at least you're ‘pretty decent’ Ifeel like it could’ve been worse.”

“That’s actually exactly what I was thinking,” he said as the two of you walked out of the ice cream shop. You laughed and leaned in closer to him. “I’m not ‘pretty decent’ to you am I?”

You looked up at him seriously, “Do you think I’d be here right now if you were?”

Peter laughed and you could see those crinkles around his eyes that you loved so much. You always measured how good your jokes were by how deep they were and right now, they were pretty deep.

He squeezed your shoulder, “Whatcha staring at Ace?”

You shook your head, “Nothing, you’re just really pretty Peter Parker.”

You could see him blush out of the corner of your eye and it made you smirk. He smiled again, deep and beautiful as ever, and the crinkles were back. “I think you’re prettier Ace.”

Shaking your head, you smiled, “Not a chance pretty boy, you’ve got me beat.”

Peter’s face turned beet red at the nickname and you knew you won. “Hey,” he said in a voice that let you know he was trying to change the subject, “you what you said to MJ back there? Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“Well, you told her she’s your best friend.”

“Okay…” you trailed off as you weren’t quite sure what he was trying to get at.

“Well, I thought I was your best friend.” That made you smile, but when you looked up at him again he was doing the opposite and you just wanted to kiss it away.

“Petey,” you said softly. You would’ve laughed if he hadn’t genuinely looked so dejected. “You are my best friend and so is she. It’s like how Ned is your best friend, but that doesn’t mean I’m not your best friend too. I think a person can have more than one best friend.”

He frowned and it was obvious your answer didn’t appease him. “Ned is not my best friend.”

Your mouth fell open. “What?! Of course, he is Peter, what are you talking about?”

He shook his head, “But he doesn’t outrank you. He’s my friend but you’re more.”

Now it was your turn to frown, “Outrank? This isn’t a competition sweetie. Where’s this coming from?”

He sighed and paused his walking. You leaned in and pressed a palm to the side of his face. “Peter,” you pressed in a gentle voice.

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to your palm before sighing again. “I’m sorry, that was stupid, it didn’t even make sense. It’s just…everything is changing, y’know? And I’m scared. ”

Your heart twisted. “I know Pete, it is scary. But we still have each other, this doesn’t have to change anything. I’ll always be here for you no matter what, no matter how far away you are. Plus, we still have all summer before we have to worry about that.” You gave him a small smile. Peter stared at you for a moment and the silence made you anxious. His eyes looked sad like he was already saying goodbye. Finally, he leaned in and kissed your forehead.

"Promise me no matter what, you'll remember I'll always be your friend."

Your brows furrowed but you agreed. "Of course, I promise."

He blew out a long breath and pulled you into a hug, “I love you, Ace. Always.”

“I love you too Peter.”

Today was the day.

Today was the day that the past twelve years of your life had led to. All those sleepless nights, insanely late nights, hours upon hours spent hunched over books and worksheets and essays. This is what they were for.

You had woken up early to get ready, but also because you couldn’t sleep you were too excited. You had already done your hair and makeup and were scrolling on your phone until it was time to get dressed when a message from Peter popped up on your screen.

morning ace ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

MORNING !!!!!!!

excited huh?

SUPER !!!!!

i love you

cant wait to see you

The plan was for Peter and May to come over and take photos before you all left for the actual ceremony.

I LOVE YOU MORE XOXO

literally, what are you waiting for come over right now

way ahead of you

Right after you read the text there was a tap on your window, making you jump in surprise. You rushed over and pushed it open, letting him in.

“Hey Ace,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“That was quick,” you replied.

He sat on your bed and patted the spot next to him signaling for you to sit as well. Taking up the spot beside him, you grinned at him and leaned in to pinch his cheeks. “What’s wrong Petey? Aren’t you happy you’re graduating?”

He smiled but his eyes didn’t crinkle like they normally do. “Hey,” you pressed with a gentler voice, “sweetie is something wrong? You can tell me.”

He blew out a breath and fell back onto your sheets. “I don’t know how.”

You played on your stomach and propped yourself up on your elbows, “That’s okay, we can figure that out together,” you ran a hand through his hair, admiring the softness of his curls. You always liked it like this, and when he got it cut, he’d started to keep it a little longer than he used to because he knew you liked it.

He looked up at you and you realized how tired his eyes looked, he must’ve been spending more time on patrol lately. You made a mental note to make sure he spent the rest of the summer sleeping well.

“How did I get so lucky to have you?” He murmured and you felt your face heat up at his words.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “wished upon a star maybe?”

He grinned. “Maybe, because there's no way you’re not magical.”

You matched his expression as you leaned down and pecked his lips softly. When you moved to pull away his lips chased yours, refusing to let you go that simply.

Somehow, you don’t even remember how, you’d moved and suddenly you were straddling his hips and his hands cupped your ass. You moved one of your hands up to his hair, letting your fingers slightly tug at his curls, making him groan into your mouth.

You could feel his hands gently pulling you down and you obliged, grinding on him as your lips attacked each other. All of a sudden, those same hands on you were being used to flip you over and the next thing you knew, Peter was towering over you, panting, lips plump and red, face flushed, and eyes hazy.

You pulled him back down but there was a knock at your door, making you both jump. Quickly, you held up a finger to Peter’s lips, making sure he didn’t make a sound.

“Y/N honey, are you up?”

“Yes Mom!”

“Alright, well get dressed and come out for some breakfast, we’re gonna need to leave soon.”

“Okay I’ll be right out.” You waited until you heard her footsteps retreating before you moved your finger. “Sorry about that.” You whispered.

“It’s fine Ace,” he smiled and leaned down to press kisses all over your face and neck. You giggled but then remembered he came over for a reason.

Pulling him back by the hair, “Wait, Pete, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

He stared at you in shock, as if he couldn’t believe you remembered. “No um, actually, it can wait. Go eat breakfast,” he kissed right beneath your ear, “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

You grabbed him and pulled him in for one more long kiss. “I love you,” you smiled sweetly at him, “and I’m so proud of you.”

He stared at you for a moment before he grabbed both your hands in his, “I love you so much Ace, and I need you to know that please.” His expression was almost pained, as if the thought of you doubting him for even a second caused physical hurt.

“Of course I know that Pete,” you frowned slightly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” He smiled. Or tried to smile, because once again those crinkles beside his eyes that you loved so much weren’t there, and you had a feeling there was something he wasn’t telling you. But you trusted him, if there wassomething that needed to be said, he would’ve said it.

“Okay,” you leaned in and kissed him, “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye Ace,” he said and walked to the window before crawling on the wall. The first time you’d seen him pull out that trick you’d told him he looked like a lizard.

Finishing getting dressed, you stepped out to have a quick breakfast so you could see Peter faster. Soon, Peter and May were in your apartment and she and your parents were all fawning over the two of you. Peter had given her his camera and she was on picture duty for the day since he would be occupied.

“Okay enough,” you said, taking off your cap and situating your hair. “It’s graduation you guys, not prom. Enough with the poses.”

“Oh, we all remember that,” Peter rolled his eyes making you smirk. The three of them had driven you guys insane with all the poses, the fussing, your dad’s jokes. And you and Peter had surely antagonized them to no end, rolling your eyes and grumbling. It was almost like being split into teams, sometimes, and you found it disgustingly cute how May got along so well with your parents and you and Peter always had each other’s backs.

“We should probably get going, we don’t want to be late,” your mom spoke up and you shot her a grateful look.

Peter looked at you. “You’re riding with me?”

Grinning, you answered, “Duh. I’ve got the playlist completely ready.”

He beamed at you and held out a hand, “Let’s go graduate Ace.” You took his hand and shot a smile over your shoulder towards the rest of your group. “See you!”

“Be safe!” You heard your Mom yell at the same time May said, “Drive carefully Pete!” But you and Peter were bounding down the stairs, your faces lit up like the 4th of July.

“Do you have the keys?” You asked him once you stepped out the door of the building. He smirked at you, “I thought we get there another way,” he flexed his wrists.

“Absolutely not, Peter.” You backed away from him, “Possibly the worst time to swing anywhere.”

He laughed and grabbed your hand, pulling you into his hold, “Relax Ace, I was only joking.” He fished out the keys to May’s car from his pocket and waved them in front of you. “I can’t wait to hear your playlist.” He dropped to give you a kiss before leading you to the passenger’s side door and opening it for you.

“Good,” you smiled as you pulled your seatbelt on and reached for the aux cord. “‘Cause I’ve been working on this for weeks.”

Peter just smiled from beside you and started up the car as you pulled up your playlist. “Okay, I know this probably fits more for after graduation, but I’ve been dying to play it so we’re listening to it now and on the ride home,” you informed him before pressing play on ‘The Spins’ by Mac Miller.

“Whatever you want Ace,” he said as he placed his hand on the head of your seat, turned his head, and turned the wheel as he backed out. Blood rushed to your face as he pulled the car out of its designated parking spot. “But I wanna hear that One Republic song.”

You knew which one he meant. “Already in the playlist and cued up to play next pretty boy.”

He smiled softly and shot you a look from the corner of his eye, “You’re absolutely perfect, y’know that Ace?” Reaching over the center console, he grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers.

You lifted your enjoined hands and pressed a kiss to his. “I know, and you’re not too bad yourself Peter Parker.”

He squeezed your hand and held it tight for the rest of the ride as you sang your heart out as if he was scared that when he let go, he wouldn’t have the privilege anymore.

When you arrived at the school, Peter rushed out to open your door and the two of walked hand in hand to the auditorium where all the students were to be gathered until they walked out to the football field where the ceremony was being held.

Entering the auditorium, the place was flooding with students and as soon as you saw MJ you were flying out of Peter’s grip and pulling her into another big hug.

“There’s gonna be a lot of these,” you warned her.

“You wouldn’t be you if there weren’t,” she remarked but held you just as tight.

The two of you took a seat over by the chairs while Ned and Peter hung out closer to the doors. As you were talking with MJ you noticed that it looked like they were in a deep, heated conversation and…were you crazy or did Ned keep glancing at you?

“Any idea what they’re up to?” You nudged MJ and jutted your chin in their direction.

“Probably talking about how their bromance will make it through thick and thin,” she rolled her eyes but when she noticed you still staring confusedly in their direction she placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Relax Y/N, really, I’m sure it’s fine.”

You could’ve mentioned how Peter had been acting weird for weeks now, that he always seemed to be in a different placelike something constantly plagued his mind. You were sure if anyone had noticed it would’ve been MJ since there was no one you knew who was quite as observant as her. You could’ve mentioned these things and tried to gauge her opinion on it, but just as you were contemplating whether or not you should, your principal walked in and started guiding you all to the doors. It was time.

As students began filing out into the hallways, it was hard to keep track of anyone in the wide array of blue caps and gowns. You had a funny thought of how it kind of looked like a tsunami.

You needed to find Peter and wish him luck one last time, the poor boy had been basically losing his mind for the past few weeks leading up to today and you wanted to make sure he was alright. Standing on your tiptoes looking around while everyone moved ahead, you finally spotted him.

Shoving your way through the bodies you made your way right beside him. “Hey!”

He jumped a little, looking paler than he did before and your heart deflated seeing how affected he was by today. “God, Ace. Scared me.”

“All those super senses and for what? Anyway, listen,” you placed your hand on your shoulder and pushed him so the two of you were to the side of the hallway and the rest of the line moved freely.

“Peter, are you okay?” You asked in a more serious voice, hoping he would just come out and tell you what had been bothering him.

You had no idea why but his face got even whiter. “What do you mean? I’m fine.” He chuckled nervously.

You sighed and gave him a big hug. “It’s gonna be fine Pete, pretty soon we’re gonna be high school graduates driving home.” You grinned up at him.

He tried to reciprocate, he really did, but you could see the strain on his face while he did, which only tugged on your heart more.

“I know Ace,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “come on, we have to take our seats soon, I don’t want you getting in trouble.”

You wanted to make a joke about how you weren’t sure you could even get in trouble anymore, but it felt like the wrong time. As the two of you walked onto the field, you kept looking up at him but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. You couldn’t wait for this to just be over so you could get your Peter back.

There was a stage set up at the head of the field, with chairs flanking each end and a podium in the middle. The stage faced all the chairs for the graduating students, which is where you would be in a minute, and the bleachers, which werebehind them, were where all the friends and family were sitting.

Peter walked you to your assigned seat and you pulled him into one last hug, “I’m proud of you Petey.”

He squeezed you so tight you wondered if he knew you’d be seeing each other right after this ceremony. “I’m prouder than you’ll ever know Ace.”

You waved him off with a smile on your face as he made his way through the crowd. You took a deep breath as you sat down, in a few minutes, your principal was up there giving some speech that you zoned out of in favor of finding your friends in the mass of blue all around you.

You found MJ with no problem and she flipped you off as soon as she caught your eyes, and you gave her heart hands and a cheesy grin in return. Ned wasn’t far from her and you gave a little wave which he returned with a sad half-smile. Weird…but it was Ned so you didn’t take it to heart.

When you saw Peter he was already gazing at you with an unreadable expression. Hoping to ease him up a little, you sent a storm of air kisses and you watched as he laughed and pretended to catch them all.

Pretty soon they were calling the names. You clapped for everyone, cheering a little for kids you were closer with, but going all out for your closest friends.

When MJ was called up you were hollering like a maniac, smashing your hands together as hard as you could. When it was Ned’s turn you whistled as loud as you could and when Peter was called up, you jumped up, lifted your hands over your head, and screamed.

You watched his knowing smile as he made his way across the stage, he’d heard you, and after he’d trapped his diplomahe caught you staring and mouthed an ‘I love you’. You smiled happily as you blew him more air kisses.

You didn’t have it in you to be embarrassed at all. Everyone was going the extra mile to cheer on their friends and whileyou might’ve tried to be less obnoxious on any other occasion, it was your graduation and Peter deserved some obnoxious cheering for how much he’d been stressing lately.

When it was your turn the cheering was returned tenfold. Peter, Ned, MJ, and all your other friends were clapping and yelling for you. You spotted your parents sitting with May in the back and you waved to the three of them excitedly. You heard Peter give an extremely loud whistle as you grabbed your diploma and shook hands with your teacher, which made you grin absurdly. By the time you made it back to your seat your face hurt from smiling so much.

You were buzzing with excitement as you waited for it all to be over so you could go and celebrate with everyone. It seemed like a lifetime till you heard the huge “Congratulations!’ on the speakers and everyone was standing up and throwing their caps into the air.

The atmosphere was amazing, everyone was buzzing with an energy different than you’d ever felt before and you knew right then, you’d always look back fondly at this moment right now.

MJ was beside you in an instant and you almost burst into tears at the fact that she was the one to hug you this time. “You were taking too long,” she mumbled and you felt a few tears slip out.

Soon Ned and Peter were on the two of you and you shoved into a big group hug, which had MJ rolling her eyes. “I only wanted her,” she stated, but you knew that wasn’t true.

You slipped out when you noticed Ned and MJ congratulating each other and took that as your chance to tackle Peter in a huge bear hug.

“You finally did it!” You laughed, arms hooked around his neck as he lifted you slightly.

“We did it, Ace,” he said and you almost melted into a puddle right then when you pulled away and noticed he was smiling. The crinkles were back.

But they didn’t last long.

The two of you made your way over to where your parents and May were awaiting you and they all pulled you into a fierce hug. Your mom was a mess and you tried to calm her down telling her if she didn’t stop, you’d be crying right beside her. Your dad was a little more composed but you could still see the emotion on his face. “I’m really proud of you kiddo.” He mumbled as he held you tight.

“Thank you, Dad,” you sniffled a little. You were barely out of that when May was crushing you with her arms, making you laugh. She was always good at that, cheering you up.

“I can’t believe you just graduated high school!” She said in disbelief. “I know,” you replied equally as confused.

Laughing, she pulled you in tighter and pulled Peter in as well. When you looked up at him he looked a little green in the face, making worry flood through you completely. What could it possibly be now? You had yourself convinced, and he did too, that it was just nerves about graduation, that the celebration was reminding him of the reality of growing up and your lives truly starting was hitting him a little harder. You thought that once it happened he’d relax a little and give himself a little time to breathe. Apparently not.

You pulled him away once you weren’t out of May’s grasp and she was talking with your parents. “Peter,” you whispered, your voice filled with worry for him, “you have to tell me what’s going on.”

“Yeah,” he croaked, eyes turning slightly red which didn’t help your anxiety at all. You watched as he stared past you andwhen you followed his trail of sight, you saw May staring at the two of you with a solemn expression.

Oh no.

You knew in your heart what was about to happen, and yet you wished with everything in you that it wouldn’t.

“Come on,” he mumbled, grabbing your hand and leading you back towards the school. You followed him wordlessly as he opened the door and pulled back into the halls, the same halls you had comforted him just a bit ago, before the two of you had officially graduated you realized.

“Peter,” you repeated, a little breathless this time because no, there was no way. He couldn’t be doing this right now, not…not after everything.

“Ace,” he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away.

“Peter,” you repeated but your voice was harder this time, letting him know that you were done with him beating around the bush. If he was going to do this, he could come right out and say it.

“I leave in 2 days,” he said quickly. It felt like a slap to the face.

“What do you mean?” Your brain couldn’t comprehend what he was saying.

He continued as if he hadn’t heard your question, avoiding your eyes as he did so. “Well technically I leave tomorrow, but I arrive the day after so…? I’m not really sure what—”

“Peter!”

He sighed and grabbed your hands, looking you in the face. “Ace, I am so sorry, like so, so, sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner I really did, and I tried! But every time it felt like it would just ruin everything and I couldn’t, I couldn’t ruin it, so I waited and—”

“Peter I swear to god if you don’t tell me exactly what the fuck you're talking about I will leave your fucking imprint on one of these lockers.”

You watched him gulp and you felt a strange sort of satisfaction seeing how you scared him. “I’m leaving,” he said in a quieter tone. “I got accepted into one of Duke's scientific summer programs and I leave tomorrow.”

It felt like a fucking punch to the gut.

“What program,” you said in disbelief, your mind reeling with all this information. “You never said anything about a program.” You looked up at him with a hurt expression.

“Ace, you’ve got to believe me when I tell you I thought I had no fucking shot getting in, I mean,” he squeezed your hands as he spoke, “really. You should see how exclusive these things are. I wasn’t even going to apply but the dude who gave me my tour around campus convinced me, and then I forgot about it until I got the email, and—”

You shook your head quickly, trying to comprehend everything. “Wait but your tour was months ago.” You looked up at him. “When did you find out you got in?”

His eyes widened and your heart fell at the realization that he’d been keeping this from you for so long. When he didn’t answer you pushed “When Peter?”

“Not that long, I promise, probably a few weeks but I just—it’s been driving me crazy how to bring this up. There was no right time, I mean, I didn’t want to do it before graduation—”

“Well how thoughtful of you to wait till right after,” you snapped back. “No, really, didn’t even give me a chance to get out of the cap and gown!” You pulled away from him and scoffed, not wanting to be anywhere near him.

“Come on Ace, please,” he pleaded, and you dropped your head into your hands. You didn’t want to cry, today was supposed to be a happy day, and it had been! Before all this.

“When do you leave?” You whispered. You were sure he’d mentioned it but you were also sure your head wasn’t working right.

“Tomorrow. At night,” he spoke in an equally quiet voice, as if the softer the sound waves, the softer the blow they would deliver. That wasn’t true.

You held back a sob.

“When do you get back?” An equally important question.

“I…I don’t. The program ends as soon as school starts…May’s shipping my things there.”

It felt as if he was physically tearing your heart out of your chest and stomping on it.

One day. All this time you’d been shoving away dealing with the reality of the situation because you wanted to be able to enjoy your summer, because you believed you still had summer left together and now he was taking that from you. It didn’t even feel like he had pulled the rug out from under your feet it felt as if he had shattered the whole ground.

“Congratulations Peter,” you said sincerely. This was breaking your heart but deny that this was an amazing opportunity. If anyone in the world deserved it, it would be him.

“Ace wait,” he moved in front of you, grabbing your chin and lifting it so you had to see his sad face. You wished he hadn’t, you didn’t want to watch him cry. “Please don’t be upset, I won't be able to go if you're mad at me.”

“Well I am upset Peter! Not that you got in, I’m so excited for you, but you didn’t tell me, and you leave tomorrow!” Your voice broke and you could stop the tears as they flooded your eyes and streamed down your face. How could this be happening? Everything was perfect and now this?

Peter pulled you into his arms, “Please don’t cry Ace,” he begged, which in turn only made you sob harder. “I’m so sorry, so sorry,” he murmured as he kissed the side of your head.

“But this isn’t forever. I’m going to come back and I’m going to find you,” he pulled away and held you by the shoulders, making sure you were looking at him, “You’re the only person I want Ace, you’re the love of my life. And I don’t want to hold you back from the amazing life you're going to start at Columbia, I can’t have you going to your dream school with one foot out the door,

“We’re going to grow and learn, and I might not be there for all of it, but we’re going to be together eventually because I want you. This is just goodbye for now.”

You closed your eyes and savored his words. You wanted nothing more than to believe every syllable.

“Promise?”

“Of course Ace.”

And maybe if you hadn’t been such a fool in love, maybe if you hadn’t been so desperate to hang on to anything that promised the two of you would find each other again, you would’ve known promises like that were rarely lived up to.

hey, sorry but i can’t make it back for winter break. weather issues :(

Your heart fell.

You were so looking forward to this, seeing him again, spending time with him and May, for things to feel like they were, even if it were for a brief moment.

You took a deep breath and stared at the two presents on your nightstand. No point in them now. You had gotten the message earlier this morning, around when he was supposed to board, but your phone had been dead.

that really sucks pete, im so sorry

maybe next time <3

He didn’t respond, the only indication you had that he’d even seen it was the little read receipt at the bottom of your text, glaring at you mockingly. You remembered sometime last year when he’d confessed you were the only person he turned them on for.

“Wait why me?”

“You can’t seriously be asking that Ace.”

“Well…I am asking.”

“Because I love you, duh.”

He hadn’t turned them off. You wondered what that meant.

You knew you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up, knew you shouldn’t have gotten so damn excited, but…god, you really thought things were going to change.

But he had still wanted to see you, he’d still asked you to come over, and it wasn’t his fault his flight got delayed. Talking yourself up a little, you put on your shoes and coat. Grabbing your phone and the presents, you left your dorm. You were going back home, you could drop off the presents at May’s, stop by and see your parents, maybe call Peter if he was feeling up to it, let him know you really had wanted to see him and you were sorry you couldn’t.

It was cold outside and you could see your breath fogging up before you as you walked, but not of it even so much as fazed you. Hope was a beautiful thing, it could change lives, and it was so, so important. Hope was going to be what got you through this time without Peter, and it was going to be the thing that brought you back together.

Because you believed. You believed him back on graduation. You believed that that hadn’t been the end of your story, itcouldn’t have been. You believed when he said he’d come back for you, that you were the only person he wanted, because you felt the same. And…maybe right now he physically couldn’t but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. You believed andyou hoped. With your whole heart you—

You stopped in your tracks. It felt like your breath was snatched from your lungs and was being held just above your head, so you couldn’t reach it no matter how hard you jumped. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

Because when you turned the corner, you saw Peter walking down the street beside his Aunt, laughing like he hadn’t justcompletely shattered your heart.

What?

You scurried backward, still unable to catch your breath but thankfully aware enough to make sure you got out of the way before either of them could spot you.

Leaning against the wall of the building behind you, you finally let out a breath, watching silently as it floated and then dissipated before you. He was here…

And he didn’t want to see you.

You tried to rationalize it as you looked around, it was clearly snowing, and it was getting thicker by the hour. So it wasn’t far-fetched that his flight really was canceled, plus he had sent you that message earlier this morning, so it was equally possible that he might’ve boarded after all, or found another flight altogether.

And maybe through all that commotion, he had forgotten to update you. Highly unlikely since you’d never known Peter to forget anything, especially when it came to you. But…you’d also never known Peter to lie, not without good reason at least, like about being Spider-Man, or that time Ned got him a birthday gift he didn’t really like, but said he loved it anyway, or any other time he’d lied for the sake of either keeping someone safe, either emotionally, physically, or both.

He didn’t tell you, and it hurt. But something deep inside you trusted him. Maybe it was naive, maybe it was wishful thinking and nothing more but you knew Peter. You’d know him his whole life and never once would you think he purposefully did something to hurt you, hurt your feelings, or anyone’s actually.

Looking down at the wrapped-up present you held, your heart tugged a little. You’d gotten him a Lego set, it was a Map of the Constellations Lego set and it was customizable, so you’d made sure it had all of the ones he’s taught you about. The ones you’d stayed staring at for hours on that hill, talking about everything. It even came with customizable Lego people, which you’d made look like you and Peter (or as much like you as you could with Lego bits), and a little telescope.

You felt like a total idiot.

You could’ve gone anyway, could’ve walked right up those stairs, could’ve said you were there to visit your parents andPeter wasn’t the only thing waiting for you here. But while you may have been feeling idiotic, you weren’t a completeidiot. You knew when you were unwanted. Even if he had just forgotten, if he really wanted you there, he would’ve remembered. And he didn’t.

You were tired when you got back to your dorm. Dropping off the presents, (Peter’s going under the bed, you didn’t want to see it at all, and May’s going on your desk. You’d take it with you when you went to exchange gifts with your parents). It was empty and you were thankful that Lindsay wasn’t there. She was a sweet girl, very bubbly, and you could definitelysee the two of you being friends if you ever got to spend more time with her, but for tonight, you just wanted to be alone.

The end of your bed was against a window and you were grateful for it. Ever since things went south with Peter, you ended most nights sitting at the window. You didn’t know what it was, but you always found yourself looking up at the sky. Maybe it was the fact that anytime you needed him, he would be out your window in minutes, if not seconds. It could be that the sky always reminded you of him. But you figured the simplest answer was probably the right one. You missed him.

It didn’t matter which window, it didn’t matter where you were, sometimes in certain buildings you could barely see the sky. Most times, you couldn’t see any stars at all. Almost every time. But it didn’t matter. Without fail, every night youwould look out the window.

Maybe you’d see him swinging around, maybe you’d catch a glimpse of those stars you both had loved so much. You weren’t really sure what you were waiting to catch. You silently hoped the silence on both ends meant nothing and he still felt the same. You hoped he meant what he’d said to you all those months ago, that he really would come back and find you. Even more, you hoped that what had happened that night was a dumb mistake, or at the very least had a solid excuse to back it up. You knew teenage romances were almost always doomed, but isn’t that why you’d broken things off? So you both could grow, and earn perspective, learn more about yourselves, and when you met again, you’d share everything you’d learned. Every new experience that had ultimately led to the reunion of the two of you. You could handle this for now, the not being together, if it meant you could have him later. That all this waiting and hoping wasn’t for nothing. You had to hope that even though you were leading different lives, in different galaxies, you both clung to the same dreams, otherwise you’d already lost him.

You supposed that’s what you sought comfort in every night. You’d look up at the sky and know it was the same one that blanketed him, wherever he was. You shared the moon, the stars, and your hearts.

You were always a dreamer, a hoper. So without fail, every night, you’d turn on your lamp and sit by the window.

read part 3 here!

‘seasonal' taglist: @keira-kaz2y5 @imafangirlofeverything

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