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hockeywhy · 3 years

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4 times you faked a relationship + 1 time you didn’t; m.tkachuk

WARNINGS: language. WORD COUNT: 17.2k. A/N: So, I didn’t want my effort for this fic to go to waste and I’ve decided to re-write it for Matty because he and the fake dating trope work so well together. I had to, so here it is.

one.

“I’d only be asking Matthew if I had no other options and needed a last resort,” you said. “Until then, I’m not even contemplating it.”

“Kind of sounds like you’ve just about reached the bottom of your list, right around where you’re keeping Matthew, Y/N,” your friend, Anna, responded and though her tone said sympathy, the look on her face reflected anything but sheer elation.

The invitation landed on your tabletop with a loud slap while you deposited yourself in a nearby chair unceremoniously, glaring at the decorative paper as if it offended you. Actually, scratch that. It did offend you. Greatly so. Honestly, it may as well have come in the form of one of those boxing gloves that sprung out of a box immediately upon opening and decked you square in the face. That’s how much it offended you.

The golden letters inked on the thick paper warmly requested the pleasure of your company to witness the love of Josh Reynolds to Louise Jones six weeks from now. The location stated was a hotel you knew only through word of mouth: one of those fancy establishments that served ridiculously priced plates that were more canapes than actual meals.

You doubted there would be much pleasure from your company.

You and Josh called it quits just over a year ago after a relationship that became increasing rockier, significantly more emotionally exhausting. The two of you started dating in high school and if the relationship started off with nothing but the sort of blinding fiery passion only teens could be capable of, well someone missed the memo on giving you the message that all fires eventually fizzle out. Gradually, it was the only way you could see your relationship heading and it seemed that Josh felt it too. It made the breakup easier: it was neat and mutual. Still, that couldn’t be considered an incentive for either of you to invite each other to such grand, deeply personal events. You couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that he found someone he wanted to tie the knot with so quickly but in retrospect, Josh had always wanted that while you were content as you were. That seemed to be the fork in your road with him.

On the one hand, you were angry at Josh for even considering jotting your name down on the list of attendees and on the other, you were angry at yourself for being angry about that. One moment you were dead set on declining the invite and the next, you considering that doing that would simply show you were bitter and unable to be civil about it. Besides, surely it was noted somewhere in the Rulebook of Ex’s that you just couldn’t do stuff like that. That seemed to just about do it. Like hell you’d given anyone the satisfaction of one-upping you.

You needed a plus one. Desperately.

“Ask your brother then. Pretty sure that’s bound to impress anyone there. It’s not often many will get to say they brushed shoulders with an up-and-coming professional athlete.”

“I don’t need that sort of plus one. If I did, I would’ve asked you—”

“Thanks,” Anna mumbled.”

“—but what I need,” you ploughed on ahead, “is, well, something that can come off a bit more serious looking.”

She rolled her eyes. “Saying the word boyfriend won’t jinx you into permanent silence, you know. You need a boyfriend.”

“A boyfriend for a day,” you agreed contemplatively.

She picked up the invitation to look through it carefully and after concluding her inspection, she slapped the papers back down on the table, grinning. “Matthew it will be then!”

Your younger brother, Jake, recently signed his entry-level contract with the Calgary Flames, in a way carrying forward the family tradition of starting a career in professional sports with them. Your grandfather did, your father did and now, here you were watching your little brother take on the mantle. Your family’s involvement in sport and, specifically, the team meant that you were somewhat familiar with the organization whether that meant attending home games or a few events arranged by the team. You couldn’t say you were the best of friends with them, certainly nowhere near the level your brother was, but generally speaking you were fond of the C of Red.

That couldn’t also be said about Matthew, however.

It seemed that from the get-go, there was a personality clash between you. At first, you thought it was just Matthew picking on you, joking around as he disagreed with virtually anything you’d say but progressively, you were pretty sure the two of you didn’t even have the compatibility to keep things civil. Matthew had a way with pushing your buttons and it bothered you he could do that with so much ease, though the more you thought of it, the more it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you: you were all too familiar with his on-ice shenanigans, after all. Whenever you knew you had to be under the same roof as him, you’d tell yourself to not let him get under your skin but that resolve would last for all of ten minutes. Fifteen if you had a particularly good day.

Much to your chagrin, it seemed your brother was closest to Matthew. Though you offered the spare room in your apartment, your brother was so warmly welcomed by Matthew. It was no doubt even Jake found your annoyance with his teammate entertaining.

The thought alone was frustrating enough. If one day, by chance, you caught sight of a white strand of hair on your head, you were dead set on blaming Matthew for it. Matthew and his smarmy attitude; Matthew and his smartass retorts; Matthew and the smirks he threw your way whenever your brother took his side, outnumbering you.

You clenched your teeth, glaring at the invite. From the corner of your eye, you saw Anna’s outstretched hand holding your phone out to you. A groan formed in your throat and you wished you kept in contact with the handful of guys you tried dating after Josh. None really stayed. Or better said, none managed to draw you in. It was as if Josh had put a jinx on you. If that was the case, you hoped that this whammy would disappear if it meant watching him watch someone else walk down the aisle towards him.

Anna waved the device at you insistently. “Do it. Come on. Even you know nothing says fuck you like turning up there with Matthew. Scrappy when he wants to be and he’s not bad to look at either. You know it.”

You arched an eyebrow up at her. “More than Johnny?”

She flushed visibly. Johnny and Anna were still a relatively new thing, dancing around their relationship carefully as if they were both doing this rodeo for the first time. It was pretty cute. “Don’t change the subject.” She placed the device down on the table in front of you then patted your shoulder. “I have a feeling you won’t regret it. If he gets on your nerves too much, well…it can’t be worse than watching your ex get married, right?”

“Ouch,” you winced, but chuckled, knowing you were defeated. Matthew was the last resort, and you knew you were at the bottom of your list before you even started going through it. “You do realize if he declines, I’ll probably make a start on packing my bags and moving to Montana, right? The only time you’ll hear from me is when my handwritten letter goes through the nine circles of hell that is our postal service.”

Anna fixed you with a stare that could only read as ‘do it’. “I wouldn’t be so insistent on this if I knew Matthew would say no. I have a feeling he’ll surprise you.”

With a heavy sigh, you unlocked your phone and scrolled through your list of contacts, thumb hovering over his name when it came up. Anna wasn’t wrong: Matthew wasn’t bad to look at all, that much you could admit. But god, if he turned you down…. you knew you wouldn’t be able to ever show your face in front of him or the rest of the team ever again.

“I think I’ve had enough surprises from him to last a lifetime,” you mumbled but tapped the call symbol anyway.

He answered on the third ring. “Hel—

You didn’t let him finish. “I need your help,” you ground out, eyes closing while you rubbed at your forehead with the tips of your fingers.

There was silence on the other end of the line that had you biting your lip in anxiousness. You shouldn’t have done this. You really shouldn’t have done this. All it would take would be just hitting the ‘resume my account’ link on one of the dating apps you signed up for a while ago. Someone was bound to be attracted not only to you but the promise of an open bar—

“Music to my ears,” Matthew’s response came through. You could practically hear the smile in his voice and knew you’d regret it; you could easily tell from the tone of his voice.

You sighed quietly, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the table, eyes glued to the invitation. Fuck it, you could get someone else; easily, no doubt. The world of online dating was vast and there would always be takers.

“Uh, yeah actually, never mind—”

“No, no. Come on, Y/N. Pretty sure this is the first time you’re calling me first so can we take a moment to just let that sink in?” Silence again, then a chuckle. “Okay, now that we did. How can I help you?”

It wasn’t as if Josh had put you in the position to ask Matthew for a favor but still: fuck Josh, anyway. In a split second of sheer pettiness, you considered aiming to host the most extravagant, unforgettable weddings when your turn would come just to show him who does it better.

“Are you free the third weekend in June?” you asked tiredly.

“Don’t know. Depends what for and who you’re asking for.”

You should’ve asked him face-to-face. At least then, he would’ve had the chance to see you roll your eyes, turn on your heel and walk away. “I’m obviously asking for myself. Could you just be straightforward for once and answer yes or no? You’re making me hold the line for longer than I anticipated and I’m happy to ask someone else,” you lied.

“Let me get this right—” Here comes, you thought exhausted. “You’re calling me for the first time since you have my number to ask me if I’m free the third weekend in June? As a favor for yourself.”

“Matthew, I didn’t stutter—”

“What’s happening in June?”

You don’t know what it was about his words that downed you. It was nothing but a simple question yet the only thing you could think of was: the first boy I’ve dated and so far, the only one, seems to have moved on quicker than I anticipated and while I’m still trying to build myself back up, I’m sitting in my kitchen looking at a wedding invitation and wallowing in self-pity because regardless of how hard I try, of how much I’ve amended my standards, no one seems to do it so what if this is it for me? What if this is just the way it’ll be from now on? And now, I’m resorting to lying just to make myself feel better but also put a façade in front of someone who I know no longer cares about me like that. And really, nor do I about him but here we are. So, nothing much is happening in June, Matthew. Hopefully we get a lot more sunshine though!

What you responded with instead was, “just an old friend of mine getting married and I need a plus one. Nothing serious. Just go there for an hour or two, say some hellos and leave. It’s a quick in-and-out thing.”

More silence on the other end of the line other than the muffled shuffle of what sounded like bedsheets. “Why not ask your brother then?”

“Asked him already, said he’s got something lined up already. So, are you free or not?” you lied, quickly pressing on even if you knew that sounded a lot like desperation.

“For you, at a price.” He was smirking. You knew he was and more than ever, you wished 2021 was the year you could just reach through the phone and shake the person on the other end.

“Uh-huh. Right. No, just forget it. Forget I even—”

You were going to end the call when Matthew laughed, quickly calling out a “no, no! Nothing weird, I promise. Just owe me a favor in return, is all.”

“Do I get a choice?” you mumbled, more to yourself than towards him.

“I think we both know that you don’t. Text me the time and place,” he instructed and then, just as you were really about to end the call, he added, “hey, send me a photo of what you’re wearing also. I’ll match my tie to your dress, free of charge.”

“Can you maybe ditch the jacket while you’re at it? Just want to make sure your tie’s within reach so I can strangle you with it.”

Even after you cut the call, Matthew’s laughter rang in your ears.

Matthew matched his tie to your red dress. The color of the silk around his neck was so striking, you would swear it was made from the same material as your outfit. You sent him a photo of the material of the dress, more as a joke than having any expectations attached to it so you were pleasantly surprised to see he made the effort. For a moment, you allowed yourself to bask in sheer joy knowing that to any eye, the two of you could easily pass as a couple. At least, from looks alone if not from attitude. You were a proud person; fiercely so. Knowing you were now in debt to Matthew however he saw fit dealt a pretty impressive blow to your ego. You don’t let yourself linger too much on that thought, though. It was already difficult enough to loosen up and relax your stance as you climbed into Matthew’s car as soon as he texted you of his arrival.

“You look good,” he commented after you fixed the seatbelt on. He turned in his seat as much as space would allow so he could look at you properly and in return, you arched an eyebrow, refusing to give way to his stare. “Are you trying to one-up the bride?”

“Ha, ha. Funny. You didn’t even see the bride. I didn’t even see the bride.”

“Didn’t see her but I’m seeing you, so,” he shrugged, by way of explanation before correcting his position.

If asked, you wouldn’t deny that Matthew also looked good. Very good. But only if asked. It was impossible that someone with a face like that didn’t know they turned heads easily wherever they went. Matthew’s suit fit him as if it was sown on him. If the two of you had a better relationship, you would even dare ask him what it was he was putting in that hair of his that made it so shiny and gave those curls so much definition, taming them almost perfectly when he really put his mind to it. Whatever it was, you had a feeling he didn’t strain as much as you had earlier that morning to tame your hair and though you could give yourself credit for how well it turned out, your arms weren’t thanking you for it.

Thankfully, much of the drive was pleasant. Though you hated small talk, you decided to make an effort if only to ease your nerves as the navigation system indicated you were drawing closer and closer to that glitzy hotel. You learned that although the season was over, Matthew, Brady and the rest of the family would spend a few weeks in Canada before heading back home to St. Louis. In turn, you told him that some of the days off you booked from work would be spent somewhere just as sunny and warm but with more beaches. It was safe ground. That, you could do although progressively, you were becoming more and more distracted, and less focused on the conversation the two of you managed to keep.

“Want me to pull over?” Matthew asked suddenly.

“What,” you mumbled, turning your attention from the road ahead to Matthew who seemed amused by the situation. “Why would I want you to do that?”

“I’d want you to do that. You look pretty pale and honestly, I’ve just had the interior cleaned so—”

“Fuck you, Tkachuk, keep driving. I’m just a little…cold. How high do you have the AC on?”

He fixed you with a stare while waiting for the lights ahead to turn green, eyebrow arched. “It’s June, Y/N, and uncomfortably warm. If it makes you feel better, though, I could turn it off and we can roll down the windows instead?”

“No, sorry—you’re right. It’s fine. Just leave the AC as it is.”

The laugh he gave was nothing short of incredulous. “Repeat that back for me. Actually—hold on, do that when I can press record on my phone so I can have that on repeat. Did you admit I’m right?”

“God, you’re making me regret inviting you,” you muttered though without heat.

An uncomfortable silence slipped between the two of you or maybe, it was just your perspective on it. Matthew seemed perfectly at ease minding the road, only occasionally throwing a cursory glance towards the car’s navigation system whenever it announced a turn. Doing this seemed more and more like a bad idea. A terrible one. No one would’ve held it against you if you denied the invitation. In fact, you thought that was more expected than accepting it and turning up to the party as if you were seeing an old friend, not an ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t too late though. Matthew could still turn the car around.

“Listen, Matt—”

“You have now reached your destination. Your destination is on the right.”

You released a breath you weren’t even aware of holding, then threw a quick look towards the main entrance of the hotel. Already, a few guests whom you recognized were crossing into the lobby.

“You really don’t look okay at all,” Matthew repeated and there was less humor in his voice and more concern this time around. Even you weren’t ignorant to how much your mood kept fluctuating over the course of the drive: often, engaged in conversation but occasionally, withdrawn, barely just catching on to whatever it was Matthew was saying. Sure, he probably didn’t know you well enough to read you, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out something was amiss. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I felt like there’s more to this thing than you’re telling me. You could’ve asked your brother, yet you didn’t—”

Damn it. You made him swear to play along. You made a quick mental note to get back at him about it whenever you felt energized enough to do so.

“Matthew,” you said, your voice suddenly clear, tone neutral. You didn’t dare look him in the eyes so instead, you kept your stare fixed on the revolving doors ahead. “I’m only going to say this once and I hope that you won’t make me repeat it now or ever again. I’d prefer that you don’t mention it to anyone either. The person getting married today is my ex-boyfriend. Up until last year, we’ve been together since we were teenagers. I loved him. Since we broke up, I kept trying to look for parts of him in others, but I couldn’t find even a trace of who he was. I feel as I’ve been jinxed, and I felt that maybe if I come today, maybe if I see him with someone else, I can confidently say I’m fine with that. It hurt my pride when I received the invitation, so my first thought was to lie. If, for just a few hours, I can pretend I’ve also moved on and I’m not stuck in this…fucking weird limbo, then maybe it becomes true. A fucked up self-prophecy. So.” You pause, clearing your throat. Your mouth suddenly felt dry from your speech, yet you couldn’t feel a pang of regret in your chest or heat behind your eyes. “So. If you want out, that’s fine. After all, I’m asking you to pretend to be my date out of spite, I guess. And embarrassment. It’s childish and unfair and ridiculous but—”

You came to a halt when you felt a finger under your chin, and a gentle upward push forced you to raise your head up a little more. When you turned towards Matthew, you looked at him with a look of confusion on your face.

“Keep your head up. We have a wedding to go to.”

His encouragement sunk in faster than expected and as your expression relaxed, a smile formed on your face.

Yeah. The two of you had a wedding to go to.

The event hall was decorated minimally yet tastefully. It made everything seem even more personal and you received that impression from every detail: from the flower arrangements to the music, everything was a testament to a life united by love. Maybe your emotional outburst earlier accounted for it, but you felt lighter even as you watched the newlyweds glide along the floor for their first dance. Sure, you felt a desperate pang of want but it was distant. Muffled.

Despite your initial thoughts, having Matthew at your side felt very much like a safety cushion. It surprised you to watch him settle into his role with so much ease that eventually, even you didn’t have to remind yourself to not withdraw whenever his arm wrapped around your waist: sometimes loosely, sometimes a little tighter, reeling you in closer.

Fish, here is your bait, you thought wildly as you stood tucked at his side while he accepted flatteries from one of the guests who swore had been a fan of the Calgary Flames since before he could even talk.

“You must be so proud,” the man turned towards you. “Your family’s truly one of a kind to have all played for the team and now—” He gestures towards Matthew as if to say all of this. “Must be something about those Flames!”

You laughed tightly, just as Matthew squeezed your side. By that move alone, you could tell he was eating this up.

“Yeah, just can’t get enough of them,” you concluded, pitching your voice just a little higher towards the end. To the man, it was as genuine as could be, but Matthew cautioned you silently with the slightest narrowing of his eyes, effectively warning you to be more realistic. “Hey, I’ll get us some refills? Try to be a little more inconspicuous in the meantime. Remember this isn’t your day,” you joked.

“Only practicing for when our turn comes,” Matthew responded without missing a beat and released the hold he had on you.

Once at the bar, you allowed yourself some extra moments to catch your breath. Even off ice, Matthew was a force to be reckoned with. He struck conversation with others easily, drew their attention with seemingly little effort and easily set the mood for whatever situation or person the two of you would run into. A part of you thought his profession had a lot to do with his mannerism, but a bigger part knew different: mostly, it was really just Matthew.

He had a way with words and with people that you haven’t been witness to before and couldn’t help but wonder if it was all show. He was, after all, a face for the public: familiar with interviews, familiar with the attention, apparently not overwhelmed even by less conventional questions. Watching him play this role was fascinating to say the least. It certainly took your mind off the circumstances so credit where credit was due.

“Hey, it’s good to see you here.”

You turned from the bar and came face to face with Josh. His jacket was off, and his sleeves were neatly rolled up past his elbows; behind the knot of his tie, you could see he’d undone the top button of the collar. You’d seen him make countless rounds across the entire floor, greeting guests and ensuring everything was running smoothly. Occasionally, you watched him dance either with his wife, or family members, or even guests you recognized as work colleagues.

You smiled. “Thanks for the invite. It was a bit weird to receive it, I can’t lie about that, but I’m glad you sent it.” It surprised you to learn you weren’t even lying about that. Through the course of the evening, it dawned on you that maybe, it was more the thought of being here that made you anxious; the event itself, however, proved just how right you were. It felt…fine. You felt fine.

“Yeah—uh, I wasn’t… I wasn’t really sure but, well, before…” He trailed off into a sigh.

You chuckled softly. “Would you like to buy a vowel?”

That made him laugh. Truly, genuinely laugh. “Sorry. I guess it’s a bit weird for me also. But, well, before you and I were, well, you-and-I, we were friends. I would’ve hoped we’d still be friends even after…” He waved a hand in the air by way of explanation but that was sufficient for you.

“Won’t hurt to be friends. Whatever happened between us—well. Thing of the past. Build bridges and get over them, right?”

“Right. Function of a bridge and all.”

“Hey. Congratulations, by the way! I’m happy for you. Really. I wish the two of you all the best. She seems really great.”

“She is,” he agreed and cast a glance towards the room, eyes undoubtedly searching for her. “Are you—”

“Here you are.”

Saved by the bell. A weight fell around your waist that, by now, was warm and familiar. Unconsciously, you leaned into Matthew, flashing a wide smile at Josh. At first, he seemed surprised by the sudden appearance but then his features settled into something more comfortable; something so much like relief that for a moment, you wished you could just come clean about it. You and Matthew were less than meets the eye.

Before you could even introduce them, a kiss was pressed to your cheek, knocking all air from your lungs and almost making you choke because of it.

What the hell.

“You were gone for some time, so I thought to check on you,” Matthew informed you, all matter of fact. To Josh, he said, “congratulations on the wedding. Must be pretty great to finally get to this point. You two look great together.”

“Oh? Yeah. Yeah, thanks man. So glad you could come along today.” Josh turned to you, an eyebrow perked in interest. “I didn’t know you two were together.”

“Oh we’re just—”

You began but were promptly interrupted by Matthew. “We like to keep it lowkey. It hasn’t been that long for us but that’s not much of a problem when your gut tells you this is it. You know it well, right?”

You were entirely caught off guard. Instead of responding immediately, you bought yourself some time by taking a sip from your glass of—whatever it was. Strong though. Just perfect for the situation you suddenly found yourself in: ex-boyfriend ahead, fake boyfriend to the side, promising sweet nothings that you knew would come back to haunt you at some ungodly hour. You wished you could step on his shoe; pull on those shiny curls of his real quick, knock some sense back into him. There was a difference between play a role well and clearly, playing it too well.

Matthew pushed ahead. “It’s pretty good timing for us though. We could take some notes for when our turn comes, right babe?”

“I’ll let the two of you to it, then. Thanks again for coming.” Josh made a move to step away but before he did, he turned to you and caught your eyes. “I’m really happy for you, Y/N. You look good together. Just make sure you don’t take too many notes.”

“Wouldn’t dream to,” Matthew responded, and you could read the slight bite in his words. When Josh was out of earshot, he looked down at you. “You dated him? Just him?”

“Hey, what’d I say about not bringing that up again? And save your dick measuring contests for the locker room, Tkachuk. Now’s not the time nor place.”

“Now’s definitely the time and place,” he countered, making you roll your eyes but there was a smile on your face you couldn’t quite wipe off. “Come on. Let’s continue taking leaves out of their book.” In one swift motion, he took the glass from your hand and set it on the bar while above, the LED lights dimmed, and the playlist switched to a slower song.

You threw him a cautious look, easily reading where that was going. “I’m not dancing.”

“Sure, you are. You want to give the impression of being happily in love? You need to start pulling your weight in this thing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Atlas. Do your shoulders hurt from carrying the burden of our relationship?” you mocked, yet still allowed him to lead you towards the dance floor. Right in the center of it given the bride and groom appeared to sit this one out; you expected nothing less from him. You weren’t even surprised when he made an entire show out of it, forcing you to do a pirouette when the two of you claimed your spot.

“You can’t even imagine the pain you put me through,” he sighed near your ear as the two of you began swaying to the music.

“Well, you’re still standing so clearly it can’t be that bad.”

“Baby, it’s torture.”

You were grateful the two of you weren’t exactly face to face or you were sure Matthew would never have let you live down the flush you felt rising to your cheeks. Sure, he didn’t use the pet name in a genuine manner, but just hearing it roll off his tongue like that… You stopped that thought before it grew into a whole new different monster.

After a few moments of silence passed, Matthew lowered his head closer to yours, his warm breath colliding with the skin on your throat. “Do you think now’s the right time to kiss? Are enough people watching?”

You stepped on his foot. Not hard, but just with the right amount of pressure to draw a wince from him. Satisfied, you leaned back just a little to look at him properly. “Don’t even think about it, Tkachuk—”

“Thought about it already.”

Through clenched teeth, you hissed, “you. Are. Incorrigible.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprised. “If only you could meet yourself.”

You snickered quietly then leaned back against him. “Thanks for doing this. I know it’s not the most convenient of things… and it wasn’t fair to tell you the full truth of it right on the day of. But—well, thanks.”

“That sounds like it was pretty difficult to let out. It’s very…. heartfelt.”

“Just fucking accept it as I gave it to you, Tkachuk,” you complained, more amused than annoyed.

More silence followed, filled in only by the general buzz of the room and the slow melody. “And now?” Matthew questioned a short while later. You allowed an extended silence to fill in for your confusion. He picked up on it within seconds. “Do you still feel jinxed? Stuck in the same place while he goes on ahead in life?”

You took some time to think through your answer, time during which the song faded into yet another slow one. Matthew didn’t give an indication of wanting to move away from the dancefloor, so you saw no purpose in you doing that.

“Not really,” you concluded. “Just seems like we’re both following different trajectories. Doesn’t mean I’m left behind if I’ve not yet met someone to settle down with like he did. Maybe I just need to be here to come to terms with it. Good for him though. I’m genuinely happy for him and his wife. I think lots of people imagine going through this very same moment.” You ended with a shrug but then, to lighten up the moment, you added, “don’t mock me for it. Between the two of us, I’m the one with the pointy shoes.”

Matthew laughed, a low, pleasant laugh right by your ear. “I’ll give you a free pass for what’s left of today.”

“Your generosity astounds me. Please could you also sign my jersey?”

“Is it my jersey?”

“Why would it be your jersey when I have my last name printed out on one at the expense of my brother being roughed up a little?”

“Don’t tempt me. That favor you now owe me? I might just use it to have you get my jersey so I can sign it since you so generously asked.”

“Your call,” you shrugged. “Just know it’s going straight in the wash right after you scribble on it.”

Matthew took a few small steps back, only to pull you back towards him. You played along and spun as you landed into his hold once again.

“You say that now, but when you’ll see yourself with it—”

“I’ll auction it on eBay.”

The laugh you got out of Matthew stayed with you through the rest of the night and like never before, his good disposition easily transferred to you.

two.

When the elevator doors slid open, your brother and Johnny weren’t the only ones to step into the hotel lobby. Matthew accompanied them, flashing a smug smile as the trio approached and his eyes landed on you. You cast a quizzical glance from your brother, to Johnny, to Matthew and then looked towards Anna as if to ask are you seeing this? She only shrugged at you in silent response, though she was grinning from ear to ear. At least someone was certainly enjoying this.

“Last I remember, there were only two of you,” you commented.

“Was that before or after your third drink?” your brother chirped back.

Instead of humoring him, you shift your gaze to Matthew. “What gives, Tkachuk? Can’t be left at home unsupervised during family vacations?”

“My house training has only gone so far,” he responded smartly, then nodded his head towards Anna and Johnny who were caught in a half-hug, apparently entertaining by watching you and Matthew bicker as if watching a tennis match. “They’re not family.”

Anna feigned a gasp on your behalf. “Y/N and I are part and parcel, Matt. Thought you’d know that by now.”

“Well, the three of us are part and parcel also, Anna. Thought you’d definitely know that by now,” he responded but you were already leading the way out of the hotel lobby and towards the busy square outside.

It was a hub of activity: from street vendors to dance and music performers, there was something to see regardless of which way you looked. Although you arrived at your holiday destination the previous day, the flight south coupled with the warm, sticky evening made you want to steer away from the busier parts of the town. Instead, you opted to lounge by the pool with Anna, having perhaps one too many cocktails to kickstart your vacation. Perhaps you missed Matthew’s arrival at some point then, though for the life of you, you couldn’t remember anyone mentioning he’d come along also. Not that it bothered you greatly.

Since the time you asked him to be your plus one some few weeks ago, the relationship between the two of you warmed slightly. Sure, he still knew which buttons to press to get a reaction out of you, but you saw it as being less ill-intended and more good-natured fun. You kept up with him easily and whenever it felt as if he was cornering you, you conceded with a roll of your eyes but never admitted defeat. You didn’t consider the two of you friends, but something changed on the day of the wedding right around the time you had spilled out your feelings about the entire deal to him. Looking back on it, you found it strange just how easily you did that, no second thoughts, no wishing for takebacks. You knew you owed him the truth given the position you put him in without plenty of heads-up, but you could’ve easily just simplified the entire thing.

It wasn’t difficult to stick together as a group but eventually, you wandered off towards a few stalls on your own that have caught your eye. Though you wanted some more time to have Anna to yourself, it was technically her first vacation with Johnny. You could catch up with her later in the room; surely, she’d have even more swooning to do over him by then. Not that you blamed her. Johnny was an incredible guy.

First, you stopped at a stall selling a range of baked goods that you simply couldn’t turn away from. And for good reason: the sour cherry churro you settled for was a dream come true. From there, you strolled towards a few small stores selling a range of products ranging from colorful graphic tees to earrings made from vibrant, colorful gemstones. You held a blue pair next to your ear, turning one way then another to watch as the light reflected off the gleaming gem.

“Those suit your complexion,” the attendant commented and when you looked towards him, he smiled bashfully.

A gentle heat crept up your neck, unable to keep the grin off your face but you couldn’t look away from him: his skin was lightly tanned, and a dusting of freckles covered the bridge of his nose and upper cheeks. His blond hair was messy in a way you could easily tell was styled to appear as such. He was cute in a sort of conventional way, but you liked the way he smiled at you, all shy but certainly genuine.

“Funny you say that. I always had a feeling blue was my color,” you responded, and his smile widened.

“Here for vacation?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, I just got here yesterday, and I’ll be around for a few days,” you added, a little hopeful.

Hey, if you could score some good company while in the area, then you weren’t going to turn down the opportunity to flirt a little and make good with someone more local.

“Good. That’s really good to know.” He regarded you for a moment and you were certain that caused your blush to deepen though at the same time, it made you feel a little…exposed. “Hey, are you free—”

“The red ones are nicer.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, frustration quickly replacing the feeling of near euphoria. You could recognize that voice anywhere. Of all times he could have run into you, the universe fixed it so he popped up when you least needed that to happen.

“I prefer the blue,” you countered, then held them up against your ear again though you knew you didn’t need to double check if they suited you.

“No, trust me with the red,” Matthew insisted, and you saw him appear behind you in the small circular mirror you were looking into. He was so close. “Goes well with that little number I got you the other day.”

You sputtered. “W-what?! Stop messing—”

In the mirror Matthew’s eyes flicked from you to the attendant. “Yeah, you know the one. I left the box on the bed in our room, thought to surprise—”

“Tkachuk, just shut up. There isn’t an our room—”

This was so painfully uncomfortable. So frustratingly annoying, you felt the blood warm in your veins, that familiar wave of anger coursing through your body.

“I’ll ring those up for you,” the attendant said, his voice carefully polite while he accepted the red earrings from Matthew’s outstretched hand.

You hated him. Passionately hated him. It was easy for Matthew to play games like those because he could easily get just about anyone, but you? It wasn’t quite as easy to not be a pro-athlete who had pretty much everything lined up and going for them. You tried catching the store attendant’s eyes again but he was busy accepting the cash from Matthew after packing away the earrings in a small paper bag. You knew he wouldn’t catch sight of it, but it didn’t stop you from casting a longing, apologetic glance towards him before leaving the store.

It felt as if for every two steps you took, Matthew only needed one and despite the crowds, he caught up with you easily, holding out the bag towards you while you powered ahead.

“Come on, don’t be mad. The red ones are definitely better than the blue ones,” Matthew tried to reason with you while holding the hand stretched out to you, insistent on his offer. When you didn’t respond and instead, tried to rush further ahead, Matthew pressed on. Him managing to keep up with your pace only added fuel to the fire. “Don’t tell me you’re upset over Ron Jon back there.”

You came to a halt, turning to glare up at him. “I am, Matthew. You didn’t need to do what you did back there. There was no reason for it. It was shitty of you, and I need you to back off while I try to enjoy the rest of my night.” You clenched your jaw, trying to suppress the overwhelming feeling of anger that normally resulted in tears. “You could at least pretend to be sorry about it.”

With that, you turned on your heel and squeezed your way through the crowds, ignoring Matthew’s calls to stop and come back and that he was only joking.

Too late for that, you thought bitterly, making a turn towards a street popular for its dining and bar venues.

The part of the archipelago more popular with tourists was truly a sight to behold as the sun went down, coloring the sky in some of the warmest, most calming shades of orange, red and yellow you ever saw. It seemed as if everyone gathered on the promenade, phones at the ready while taking photos of the sky, selfies and group shots. Even you couldn’t resist it and after taking a few well-centered selfies, a passing couple offered to take your photo which you immediately posed for.

Later, once the sight sunk in, you moved towards a nearby bar, first attracted by the pink, purple and blue neon lights and then, the music. A good cocktail, good music and a gorgeous sunset were all it took for you to feel more relaxed, leaving behind the event from earlier. He wouldn’t be the first cute guy you’d see, nor the last and indeed, it was easy for you to settle in the more crowded area of the locale where people were dancing either solo, with a partner or as part of a group.

Not long after you weaved your way onto the dancefloor, you felt a pair of hands settle on your hips, drawing you in. You went easily, accepting the embrace, accepting the way you were being led into the dance, swaying your hips along with his. You didn’t even miss a beat when he spun you around, but you kept your hands pressed against his shoulders, rather than wrapping your arms around his neck. You were tipsy, no doubt, and admittedly felt touch-starved but you weren’t quite in the mood for anything more. You even dodged his mouth when he tipped his head down to your lips so instead, he landed a kiss on your cheek. Still, he was pretty relentless. The dance took a turn that was significantly more sensual, crossing a line into discomfort, and you felt that was your cue to try and remove yourself from him. It was easy initially. You threw him a small smile and when he caught hold of your hand, you simply motioned you were only going to get a drink, hoping that would keep him where he was with the knowledge you would return.

When you finally pulled away, you made a bee line towards the exit of the venue but again, you were a step too slow. The guy caught you just at the door.

“Where are you running off to, pretty?” he slurred, his voice louder above the thumping of the music.

“Oh—Um, just getting a breath of fresh air, is all,” you said quickly and immediately wished you didn’t venture off in a place like this alone. It was as if you suddenly forgot everything that was common sense, pushed towards it by earlier frustration.

“Doesn’t look like it to me.” He frowned, but there was no clarity in his eyes. He was entirely out of it and his fingers squeezed painfully around your wrist. You flinched visibly, squirming under his touch and even if you tried pulling your arm away, it was useless. He overpowered you even through the drunken haze. “Wanna go? Fine, then let’s go together.”

“No—uh, I’m actually here with my friends. I’ve just—I saw them so I’m going to catch up with them. They must be looking for—”

“Then we can go to them together, sweetheart. Here, point them out to me.”

“No, really. I’m going to them alone,” you emphasized and put all your force into trying to free your hand. It may have taken him by surprise that led to his loosened grip, but as soon as you turned on your heel, you found out there was more to it than just that.

You almost faceplanted right into Matthew’s chest when you tried making a run for it. He stood there, eyes flicking between you and the guy with an unreadable expression on his face. Your heart was hammering wildly in your chest and instinctively, you almost glued yourself to his side. It wasn’t the first time someone tried to force a move on you, but it was the first time it was done so in such a thoughtless, drunken manner. Perhaps your fear was also enhanced by being alone in an unfamiliar place. To see Matthew this time felt like a blessing.

“Babe,” Matthew said by way of greeting, pulling you to him when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

You didn’t realize you were trembling until you stood so close to him, legs suddenly feeling like jelly in front of your salvation. Matthew could easily overpower the guy; even if they were roughly the same height, there was a big difference between the body of an athlete and the swaying one of a drunk guy. Still, it didn’t mean you wanted Matthew to get caught up in anything he’d later regret or would affect him in any way, so you pressed a hand to his chest trying to put some pressure into guiding him away from the scene.

“She yours?” the drunk guy slurred, head tilting back, chin pointing towards your general direction.

“Yeah. So, guess that makes the situation even worse for you,” Matthew responded. His tone was light, seemingly non-threatening to someone who didn’t know him but you did. You knew him and you could read him crystal clear in this moment.

“Matthew, please,” you muttered, looking at him almost desperately while trying to put all your body weight into guiding him away.

The guy scoffed. “You’ve gotta do better than that, buddy.” He snickered. “You’ve gotta keep ‘em on a tighter leash unless you want them to go—”

Matthew made a move towards him, but you quickly stepped in front of him, essentially forcing him to halt. “Matt, please. Let’s go, okay? Please. I really want to leave. Right now.”

He glared at the guy for a moment longer but the hard look in his eyes softened as soon as his gaze fell on you. You took the liberty of placing most of your weight against Matthew, allowing him to remove both of you from the situation and towards a less crowded area. That was easy to find: with the sun having long set, most of the crowds cleared away from the promenade so there was plenty of space for you to collect yourself in peace.

He didn’t pry into the situation, didn’t even make any smartass comments. Instead, he let you slip away from under the safety of his arm while you pace around a small area, trying to work off the anxiety as much as you could. You had to count your breaths, remind yourself to breathe in then out slowly. You were okay. You were far from that guy, and he couldn’t hurt you. At least, no more than he already did. Your wrist felt a bit sore, but you’d take that over anything worse.

“You okay?” Matthew asked at last, tone careful. “I can go back there and pull him out, you know, get him to apologize.”

“No!” you said loudly, desperately, then cleared your throat and lowered your voice. “No, don’t go. Please. I just need a moment, that’s all. Just a little. Could you not leave? I’ll be fine in a moment. Just—just need to catch my breath—"

“Hey, hey—relax. It’s over. He can’t put a hand down on you now, or ever.” Matthew took a few steps closer to you as if apprehensive to approach you in the first place. You knew what you must’ve looked like: pale, still shaken by what happened. He held a hand towards you, palm up. “Can I touch you?”

You looked from it to his face, then said, “don’t get any funny ideas,” but it lacked your usual punch. You took his hand though, letting yourself be drawn to him. Matthew smelled like the sea. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he’d gone down to the beach earlier to take a dip. You wished you did that rather than try and drink your frustration over missing out on a random guy. God, you could sleep right here if sleeping while standing was a thing. “I’m sorry for reacting the way I did before—with, uh—what did you call him?”

Matthew chuckled, a low, deep chuckle. “Ron Jon.”

“You’re awful, Tkachuk.”

“And you have a funny way of expressing gratitude.”

“Sorry—”

He laughed louder. “I’m messing with you.” A pause, and then, “I’m sorry I rained on your parade earlier with the guy back then. If you really liked him…” He trailed off, as if to let you fill in the sentence for him.

You laughed weakly, waving a hand dismissively. “Thanks. Again. Seems like nowadays, I just keep having to thank you for one thing or the other.”

You felt him shrug. “Fine by me. You keep adding to these favors you owe me.”

“It’s only one. Well. Two if you want to be a dick and count this one too.”

You took a step back, detaching yourself from him to run both hands through your hair. You felt exhausted, drained of energy yet relieved. Who would’ve thought you’d be pleased to see Matthew pull another one of his appearing out of the blue acts?

“You give me no other choice but to be one,” he joked. “Come on, let’s go back to the hotel. Everyone’s wondering where you were, so you kind of lost your right to vote on dinner for tonight.”

You sighed heavily. “Let me guess: you all ganged up on me in my absence and settled on lobster?”

Matthew grinned. “Can’t vacation in a seaside town and skip out on that.”

“Ugh. Sea critters.” You pulled a face, drawing yet another laugh from Matthew. It made you feel oddly accomplished but you cut that train of thought there, forcing it to derail elsewhere, to place more familiar to you, more comfortable. “Matthew, I mean it when I said thank you. That was—it was scary,” you admitted as the two of you started walking back towards the hotel. You pulled your wrist into your hand, rubbing at the skin gently. Focused on the road ahead, you missed Matthew frowning down at the gesture. “I don’t know how that happened. It’s just—it’s not my thing to do. Go out alone, especially in a place like that. Good instincts by the way,” you tried to joke but it fell flat.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, voice tight. “I don’t want to think about it again if I can help it.”

You cast a confused stare in his direction but by then, it was his turn to look ahead, a frown marring his features. You didn’t push any further though.

Later that night, after you and Anna decided to call it a day and switch off the lights, you lay in bed glancing a look up at the ceiling above. You didn’t think back on the evening’s events but rather, thought back to how a familiar small brown paper bag was taped to your room’s door before dinner. Anna had fixed you with a knowing stare as you plucked it off the door, tipping its contents into the palm of your hand.

Then, you thought how during dinner, Matthew had claimed the seat next to yours and complimented the earrings you wore, remarking how awfully familiar they seemed though he could swear he didn’t know where from. For the first time, you had an inside joke to share with him and neither of you bothered to offer any clarifications to everyone else around the table as they tried to press for details.

three.

The Flames’ first game of the season was scheduled to take place in Las Vegas and with a few days left of vacation, you couldn’t skip on the opportunity to return to the city you were inexplicably fond of, as well as watching your brother play on the third line. The night promised to be unforgettable, and you wouldn’t miss it for the world. Although there were plenty of things to keep you busy throughout the day, your eyes would occasionally wander down to your watch, counting down the hours until the start of the game. It seemed like most of the city was doing the same.

Often, you’d spot handfuls of people donning Knights jerseys and occasionally, there would be a few Flames fans wandering the streets and locales. You’d only spotted one person wearing your brother’s jersey but that was more than enough for you – he was a fairly new face in the professional league, but he certainly pulled his weight during every shift he had on ice whenever given the opportunity. Luckily, you managed to take a quick photo of their back before they disappeared into the crowds, sending it to your brother along with a thumbs-up emoji.

He didn’t respond immediately, nor did you expect him to. You could only imagine how quickly he racked up pre-game nerves and he had a pretty strict routine, which included avoiding his phone until after the game. You couldn’t really make sense of superstitions even if each member of your family who played, whether professionally or otherwise, had their own. Naturally, you were surprised when your phone pinged, indicating a new message almost half an hour later. Except, it wasn’t quite who you were expecting.

Matthew is that your way of saying good luck?

You frowned, but all it took was a little more attention on your part to notice you hadn’t sent the message to your brother but rather, to Matthew. Lately, he was one of your top contacts for frequent messaging.

You wrong number

You good luck to you too though, i guess :/

Matthew busy?

You don’t you have practice to get to?

Matthew [attachment: photo of an ice rink where a few players were captured in motion]

Matthew [attachment: photo of his skates, taken from the players’ bench]

Matthew on break, where are you?

You hanging around

Matthew what are you wearing?

You [emoji: middle finger]

Matthew ice cold

Matthew nice, i can handle ice cold

You then go handle ice cold so you don’t get handled tonight

Matthew wish me luck too

You i already did

Matthew i need it twice, it’s my superstition

You that’s a bullshit superstition

Matthew if we lose tonight, it’s on you

You [emoji: angry face]

You good luck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Matthew :)

You dropped your phone on the table with a low groan, slouching in your chair. From across the table, Anna shot you a confused stare which quickly morphed into understanding when you rolled your eyes, shooting your phone a look of frustration as if the device itself was to blame.

“Anything interesting?” she asked in a singsong tone.

“If you count Matthew being his usual self interesting, then that’s what’s up. Otherwise, nothing new.”

“By his usual self, do you mean engaging? Funny? Witty? So good with his words that he yet again takes your attention and keeps it while the rest of us, mere mortals, struggle to do that for longer than a few minutes tops?”

You arched an eyebrow, somewhat amused. “All that – just empty words.”

Anna leaned back in her seat, taking her glass with her while twirling the straw, looking ahead somewhat thoughtfully. “You know what the two of you remind me of? Those two kids in the playground who think love can only be expressed through pulling hair and making snide remarks.”

“First of all, that’s a shitty way of trying to get someone to realize you have feelings for them and second of all, love is a pretty big word. You managing to carry it okay?”

“Okay, maybe not love. But like? It has to be like. Say what you want to say but it looks different from the outside.”

“Okay, you keep staying out there and let me know what you’re seeing. I like your imagination. Very vivid,” you commented but there was no bite to your words and Anna threw her head back with laughter.

You didn’t think much of your exchange with Matthew throughout the rest of the day, nor did you try to linger too long on Anna’s interpretation of your relationship with Matthew. You let it wash over you, knowing it’d give her too much satisfaction if you fretted too much over it and anyway, many of your thoughts seemed to fly towards the evening’s game.

By the time the two of you made your way to the arena, however, you moved from anxiety to excitement within the space of mere moments, apparently. Even if this wasn’t your first rodeo and you’d been to countless games before, there was nothing quite like the thrill of an opening game. You and Anna had spaces reserved in the upper stands along with other family members and significant others but both of you chose to watch the warm-ups close-up, so you hung around by the glass at ice level.

The Vegas Knights and the Flames stepped on the ice to a combination of cheers and the thump of a loud electronic mix. You spotted your brother almost instantly. He did a quick lap around the team’s half of the ice before pulling a puck towards him with his stick, sliding it this way and that before shooting it over towards the net. Once sufficiently warmed up, he cast a searching look around the rink and you quickly waved both arms up in the air to try and get his attention. You knew he’d spotted you, but he made an entire show out of looking over you until you smacked a hand against the panel. You knew the sound wouldn’t be heard over the general noise of the arena, but he still laughed. When he skated over, you held your phone up, giving it a quick shake and mouthing “selfie?”.

He flashed a thumbs up and you quickly turned around to take the photo, but it wasn’t until you inspected it afterwards that you noticed you were photobombed by Matthew himself. You had every intention to look up from the screen and somehow try and get his attention only to glare at him, but he was a step ahead. You almost jumped out of your skin when you noticed Matthew standing right there by the glass, smirking at you.

“Asshole,” you mouthed, not daring to voice it out given you were surrounded by kids.

Matthew winked, skated to collect a stray puck then threw it up over the boards towards one of the kids standing right next to you. The kid was clearly thrilled by the gesture, bouncing up and down with the puck held over his head as if it were a trophy. You couldn’t help it: your heart melted at the sight, so you simply nodded once at Matthew, apparently just in time as the warm-up countdown reached zero.

You weren’t surprised the home team were putting on such a show for the opening night. There was a little bit of Vegas in every opening act: from the fireworks set off outside the arena to the showgirls and mind-blowing animations projected down on the ice, it felt more of a Stanley Cup playoff game than the start of a regular season game. This was Vegas and no one did it quite like Vegas did, you had to give that to them.

Both teams were almost evenly balanced throughout the first period but stepping out of intermissions and into the second, the Flames started powering ahead. It was as if something had clicked together even better and they functioned as a well-oiled machine, both in offence and defense. By the end of that period, they were leading the Knights 3-2 and you were more than elated your brother had earned himself an assist. Like all games, tensions formed quickly, and the third period saw both teams play aggressively. On several occasions, you caught sight of players clearly chirping each other even while heading towards their respective benches after the end of a shift. Once, Matthew seemed to be involved in a seemingly endless yelling match with a player on the opposing team. There were more checks against the panels, an impressive number of penalties drawn by both teams, and it felt as if the atmosphere was just tethering towards a fight.

It happened right after the Flames scored the fourth goal with just two minutes left of the game.

The moment the puck was dropped at center ice, you watched as Matthew charged ahead towards one of the Knights players who didn’t hesitate to drop the gloves. Between them, Matthew had the faster instinct, and he landed the first punch, effectively forcing both players to fall to the ice while the referees scrambled to try and split them apart. They were there a moment too late, just mere seconds after you caught sight of knuckles scraping along Matthew’s mouth on the big screens above. At first, it seemed to be nothing more than a graze but once he was separated and made his way towards the Flames bench, you noticed several spots of blood on his jersey on the screens above that made you almost jump out of your seat.

Sure, this was a familiar sight, but it didn’t alleviate the sheer shock and restlessness. Whatever had happened between them must’ve been a pretty big deal to set Matthew off the way it did. There was no way of sugarcoating it: the fight was vicious. More than ever, you wanted the period countdown to reach zero so you could go down to the lockers. It wasn’t just a few nagging feelings towards Matthew that led you to react the way you did. He was a friend, after all, so worrying for him was simply natural. An expected way of responding to a situation like that.

“He had it worse before, remember?” Anna reminded you as you followed the small stream of relatives and friends down towards the players’ rooms.

“Still looked pretty bad to me,” you responded, briefly pulling your lower lip between your teeth. Before she could continue being the voice of reason, you added in a light tone, “I just want to see if he had any teeth knocked out of his mouth this time around.”

It took some time before the players filed out and as you watched them come out one by one, you almost wished you saved this for somewhere less…well, public. Sure, you were just a friend checking on a friend, but you wished you could do that without an audience.

Your brother emerged first, beaming, no doubt pleased with the win, and you hugged him tightly, easily sharing his joy.

“He’s just getting ready to come out now,” he informed you, heading nodding back towards the locker.

You blinked. “What? Oh—no, I’m just. I was waiting for you to say congratulations. What are you even talking about,” you mumbled but inevitably, your eyes were drawn towards the locker room as the door swung open and Matthew stepped out.

His hair was still damp but already curling again. He was dressed in the same suit he probably arrived in, a simple light grey number that fit him perfectly. He had his backpack on also and in one hand, he carried an apparently ice-cold bottle of water while the other was pressing an ice pack to the corner of his mouth. When you made eye contact, he frowned lightly and for a moment, seemed almost hesitant to approach you. This time, you were a step ahead and cornered him before he decided to walk away.

You nodded your head once, indicating in his general direction. “What? You’re trying to add to the family’s hefty dentist bill by getting a few teeth knocked out already?”

Matthew shrugged. “It’s not hockey without a few scraps now and then.”

“For a guy who got a goal and an assist, you sure don’t look too pleased with that.”

At that comment, Matthew’s expression shifted, lightening up considerably. “Are you keeping track of my stats now?”

“What? No, Tkachuk. I was doing what everyone else in that arena was doing: paying attention generally speaking.”

Suddenly, his entire face scrunched up in pain and he almost doubled over as he groaned. Instinctively, you reached out for him, eyes widening a little when bending down a little to try and look at his face.

“Oh my god—Matthew. Are you okay? Do you need me to get a medic to check—”

You frowned as soon as you felt his shoulders tremble under your touch. Slowly, it dawned on you he was laughing. Laughing. You slapped his shoulder lightly, the gesture more a tap than anything else and you started walking down the corridor quickly, trying to catch up with everyone else as they filed out of the arena.

“Hey, hey, wait, Y/N! Come on, don’t be mad,” he called out after you and you heard him jog to catch up with you. When he did, he took a couple more steps ahead then stepped in your path, walking backwards to match your pace. “I was only messing around. I couldn’t not do that. You should’ve seen your face, honestly.”

“My face? Hope you’ve seen yours. I’m not mad. Me being mad would basically mean you managed to get to me which you really didn’t, so don’t give yourself any credit, Tkachuk,” you responded. “You just reminded me you’re still a dick so thanks for that.”

“Give me a free pass. I’m injured.”

“If you’re searching for sympathy, you’re looking for it in the wrong place,” you informed him, side stepping him so that he resumed walking at your side instead. After a few moments of silence, you conceded with a sigh. “Seriously speaking. How’s your mouth?”

“Don’t think I’ll need fillers, let’s just say.” He removed his hand from his mouth, and you looked over.

Thankfully, it seemed that putting ice on it quickly was paying off. The area was somewhat red, but no significant damage seemed to be visible to the untrained eye. He was certainly miles better than he was just months ago.

“Looks okay, I guess,” you shrugged. “What happened? Honestly, it looked pretty intense from the outside.”

Matthew didn’t respond and you didn’t press him for details even after you stepped out into the balmy Vegas night. If he chose to not share with you, then you guessed it must’ve been either pretty personal or pretty stupid. You leaned more towards the former. You didn’t even complain when he followed you to the car you hired, claiming the passenger seat. Before you also stepped inside, a message pinged in from Anna informed you she had taken off with Johnny for dinner but promised to be back in the room in a few to catch up.

You didn’t start the engine when you fixed your seatbelt and instead, leaned your head back against the rest, watching a few other vehicles pull out of the car park. In his seat, Matthew was looking out of the window to his left, heading resting against a loosely formed fist propped up against the door.

“He was talking shit about you,” he said at last, but didn’t turn to you when he spoke.

“Who was?”

“The guy on the other team. He made a comment about you towards your brother at the end of the shift. Something about… I don’t know, something crude, vulgar. Don’t really remember it.”

You didn’t quite believe him on the last part, but you allowed it anyway. “Okay… Well, I don’t know the guy anyway, so it didn’t matter, Matthew. You should have let it slip by or left my brother to deal with it.” Then, out of curiosity, you asked, “why didn’t you?”

More silence. Occasionally, the muffled sound of a passing car would cut through it but it, too, would be gone in seconds.

“Because I couldn’t.”

You pursed your lips and your fingers clenched then unclenched in your lap. You placed your hands on the steering wheel, then dropped them away before settling them back on it after starting the engine.

“Thanks, I guess. You just keep making me owe you favors.”

“You don’t owe me—”

“So, I’ll clear that now with dinner. Just please don’t tell me you’re going to need to be on a smoothie diet. I’ll feel bad eating something really good while you’re there with a strawberry and banana drink. Not that I’d stop eating though, just so you know. But it’s the thought that counts,” you said and finally, finally he chuckled quietly.

“No smoothie diets this time.”

You sighed dramatically. “Maybe no smoothie diets ever?”

Matthew shrugged. He was still not meeting your eyes but that was okay. “Can’t promise that. Kind of comes with the job. Just in case though, I like the sweeter stuff more. Triple chocolate, Oreo pieces, peanut butter.”

“Thanks, Matthew. I’ll file that under information I don’t care to know about.”

“I’m injured. Show some sympathy,” he demanded without heat, finally turning to you.

You cooed then reached out with one of your hands to pat his cheek lightly. “Aw, really searching for it in the wrong place.”

“I’ll make do with what I can get,” he allowed, and you could swear he leaned into your touch, but you tore your hand away before either of you got too comfortable.

four.

Matthew called in his favor after a few of his teammates agreed where to host their Halloween party.

“Kind of sounds like you’re the one asking for a favor,” you commented, planting yourself at your kitchen table while securing the phone between your ear and shoulder.

Matthew sighed on the other end. “Sort of. Who does a themed Halloween party anyway? The theme itself is Halloween.”

“You’re not wrong about that. Could be fun though, a bit more unique. So, what’s the theme for this year?”

“Couple outfits,” Matthew replied without hesitation.

You stilled and were grateful he wasn’t in the same room as you. It took you a great deal more energy over the course of the past few months to convince yourself that Matthew didn’t attract you in one way or another. His looks aside, it was rare you came across someone who could easily keep up with your snide remarks and the more you got to know him, the more you realized that there was more to Matthew than just being a typical athlete with his share of well-deserved fame. He was funny, dedicated and undoubtedly, caring. You had some first-hand experience with the latter. After all, he didn’t owe you anything to make him obligated to jump into whatever weird situation you found yourself in.

You warmed to him little by little. If you found him attractive, well that was for you alone to know though it made everything just that more difficult. Thankfully, Matthew seemed pretty oblivious to it or at least, he was doing a good job at pretending he didn’t catch you staring at him on several occasions or the few times you took a discrete step back if it felt like you were too close to him. Knowing he was asking you to go together as a couple (pretend couple, you corrected yourself) only added to the difficulty of coming to terms with your…crush.

Puppy love, you assured yourself. It’ll go as quickly as it came.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, still here. Guess it sucks another year will go by without the opportunity to bring out your Fortnite costume.”

“Oh, come on. I wouldn’t dress like a game character!”

“Matthew,” you warned.

There was a pause, then, “okay, fine. Maybe I would. So, can you come?”

You shrugged, then remembered he couldn’t see it. “I owe it to you, don’t I?”

“Great! Hey, choose something good for us. There’s going to be a prize for best dressed and I have my eyes on it.”

“I think we can both agree my creativity will not let us down. I’ll text you my idea. You just make sure you actually stick to it, so I don’t end up looking stupid.”

“Don’t worry,” he started, “I won’t dump you on Halloween.”

“Good to know I won’t end up traumatized and have my favorite holiday ruined,” you said, by way of goodbye.

“Hey, spin around for me once. You look good. Blonde’s not bad on you.”

“No color’s bad on me,” you responded but refused to entertain Matthew by complying with his request. Instead, you rang the bell to Noah’s apartment after the door didn’t budge when Matthew tried the handle.

“Come on, just a spin,” Matthew insisted, nudging his elbow into your own then pressed the doorbell himself once again – hard, as if that would make it ring louder.

“Only if you dance for me and do the entire Greased Lightning choreography without missing a step.”

Matthew feigned a groan and you shot him an amused look. Before you could even comment on that, the door opened, and Noah stood at the threshold. The ruckus from inside spilled out into the corridor and from what you could see beyond him, it was a full house of all sorts of characters.

“Wow! Sandy and Danny! Finally, someone with really good taste,” Noah said by way of greeting and he looked towards you pointedly.

You flashed him a grin. “Always a pleasure to exceed expectations,” you responded and stepped into his open arms, a clear invitation for an embrace that was shortly broken apart by Matthew.

“Hey, none of that man,” he said, pulling you back and easily holding most of your weight as you broke into a laugh that had you stumbling into his side. “I didn’t even get to tell her she’s the one that I want.”

“Yeah, well, you better shape up ‘cause I need a man,” you responded, without missing a beat though you couldn’t help but replay his words in your mind. They sounded a lot like a broken record that you desperately wished to stop immediately before this…thing went way too far and spun out of control.

You were both led towards a photo wall and if you had any nerves about striking good poses without at least some liquid courage first, all that vanished. To your surprise, Matthew easily took the lead initially, falling to his knees in front of you in an attempt to recreate the part where a smitten Danny fell before Sandy, completely and utterly overwhelmed by her presence. Despite it being difficult to control your laughter, you played along with ease. At first, you were simply grinning down at him but you couldn’t let all his in-character effort go to waste, so you turned, casting a glance down towards him over your shoulder. To your side, Noah’s flash was going off every few seconds as he tried to capture the two of you from the best angle, together with cheers of encouragement. For your second pose, you rested your arms on Matthew’s shoulders once he rose back to his full height and his hands held on to either side of your torso. Again, the flash went off and again, the two of you changed pose into something more casual: him, standing behind you with his palms on your hips while you place a hand on his face, grinning at the camera. The flash went off again and he whooped loudly.

“I’m never inviting both of you to a party with this theme again,” Noah muttered, feigning disgruntlement. “You can’t come into my home and kill it like that.”

“Blame the one who came up with this idea in the first place,” Matthew defended, holding both hands up in the air in a gesture of innocence.

It was true. The idea to dress as Danny and Sandy from Grease came to you fairly quickly. You knew the two were a popular go-to, but you enjoyed the movie greatly. Plus, it was a great opportunity for you to pull out a pair of red heels you invested a hefty sum of money into. And, well, admittedly there was something about Matthew that made you think he’d suit the role just fine. When you shared your idea with him, he was on board from the start without complaining or suggesting alternatives. You were grateful for that: when Matthew picked you up earlier, dressed in an all-black outfit, leather jacket and hair styled to rival John Travolta’s, you gave yourself a mental pat on your shoulder. If any photos would go up on the internet, you were pretty sure Instagram would be grateful to you. Certainly, you knew Chantal and Keith would get a kick out of it for sure.

“Guilty as charged,” you acknowledged. “I’m going to look for Anna. Catch you later.” You gave a wave to the both of them before making your way towards the hub of activity where couple costumes ranged from peanut butter and jelly to superheroes.

She was fairly easy to locate, in part because she told you she and Johnny would dress as Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor. The red, blue and gold of her outfit were unmissable even in a sea of costumes. As soon as she spotted you approaching, she made a beeline and wrapped an arm around yours.

“Tell me you and Matthew will recreate the entire You’re the One That I Want scene,” she pleaded. “Please tell me that at some point this evening, you’ll tell us to clear the dancefloor so the two of you can have your moment.”

You rolled your eyes, dragging her along towards a table hosting drinks and small bites. “There’s no moment we’re going to be having.”

“Because you don’t want to or because you want to so badly that you don’t know how to ask him? I’m pretty sure he’ll say yes.”

“Neither,” you muttered but even you’d be able to hear the lack of conviction in your tone from a mile away.

To take your mind off it, you poured yourself a glass of red wine, taking a tentative sip from it. Across the room, Matthew had deposited his black leather jacket away and started making rounds around the room. You took a longer sip from your wine and looked away.

Anna fixed you with a knowing stare which you refused to acknowledge, but she knew you like the back of her hand. “It’s okay to say you like him, you know,” she advised, and you hated the soothing tone she tried to take when saying that. It felt more pitying than anything, as if you hadn’t already had your share of disappointments in love—or, relationships better said.

“Who said anything about liking him? He’s not bad to look at I’ll admit, but that’s where it stops.” You frowned, looking out of the nearest nearby window that gave a broad view of the city below. “That’s where I want it to stop,” you admitted, this time quieter.

You were well aware that you were occasionally trying to look for a narrative that was most convenient for late night thoughts when you had the peace and privacy to think of him as you wished. The reality couldn’t be more different, though, and you knew that. Matthew was helpful to you before because he was good friends with your brother and eventually, you realized that it was just part of his nature. Beyond being successful, beyond his fame and recognition, Matthew was kind and funny and respectful. It was just that you didn’t give him the chance to before and now that you got to know him better, you suddenly realized that…what? You’d like the first man who gives you a helping hand? If that were the case, you should’ve gotten the memo sooner: it would’ve been easier liking the tech guy from work who once debugged your laptop.

It wasn’t doing you any good to try and look for a ‘but’ in every situation: Matthew is helpful because he’s good friends with my brother but it’s not like that should force him to act as if we’re romantically involved not once or twice or thrice but now, four times. Regardless of how you looked at it, that reeked of desperation. You were in that weird period in your life where it felt as if everyone around you was in a relationship, so maybe that mood translated to you.

That’s right, you settled. That’s what was possibly behind these thoughts of yours. You found Matthew attractive – and what? So did plenty of other people. You saw him surrounded by girls after practice, after matches, while out. What you felt was nothing special. It felt easier to think of it that way, even if for a few hours to truly enjoy the party without having that lurking at the back of your mind.

You mingled easily, danced with Anna, danced with other players’ girlfriends and wives, danced with your brother, even attempted a few traditional Russian dances taught by Nikita, Artyom and a few of their friends, that left you breathless by their rapid pace and intricate footwork.

“I’m done!” you declared, breathless and almost swaying on your feet when another Russian folk song came to an end but thankfully, you managed to hold steady before you could catch a ride on the hot mess express. “Absolutely wasted. Knocked out.” You stepped away, tired but euphoric and dropped rather unceremoniously on one of the available couches pushed against a wall.

“Having fun?” Matthew asked and there was a light flush on his cheeks you knew wasn’t from dancing. There was even just a slight slur to his speech.

“The most,” you replied, breathless, and accepted the drink he held out to you. You took a sip without questioning him what was in the glass, only to find out for yourself he was settling for harder stuff tonight. “But never let it be said that anyone can keep up with Russians because let me tell you,” you whistled quietly, “we’re a couple of steps behind. Plenty of steps behind, actually.”

Matthew flashed a lazy smile and you briefly spared a moment to envy him for how kept together he remained despite being evidently buzzed. “’s okay. At least we’re the better dressed ones so we lose in style.”

You took another sip from his glass, holding it out to him with a smirk. “Tell me about it, stud,” you said in what you hoped was a low, alluring tone of voice but no sooner did you think that, and you were reduced to embarrassed laughter. “Forget about that! Forget it, forget it! Where’s the delete button?”

“I didn’t come equipped with that,” he declared proudly, finishing off what was left of his drink. “C’mere, you can show me a couple of those steps you learned.”

He stood, a little unsteadily initially then held a hand to you. You knew he wouldn’t have the strength to pull you up properly, so you stood easily fully intent to actually lead him through some of the steps. Except, Matthew was definitely swaying more than you thought he would. There was something inexplicably amusing about the situation and instead of directing him towards the center of the room, you steered him away from it and towards a small bathroom you were shown to earlier that night when you needed some time to re-touch your makeup.

“Where’re we going?” he asked curiously, looking over his shoulder towards the living room with a look that could only be read as longing.

“To cool down a little and then you can learn as many folk dances as you want. Believe me, you need to be alert for them. Can’t miss a step,” you advised, trying to steady him by wrapping an arm around him though the difference in weight between the two of you couldn’t compare. Still, you managed to get him into the bathroom safely without either of you making a mess of yourselves or the room.

“Are you gonna cool down too?” he questioned.

“Sure thing, definitely need it.”

“Good, we’ll cool down together.” With that, he made a move to open the glass partition for the shower cubicle but thankfully, you were significantly more alert than he was and managed to prevent him from doing anything more than that.

“Not that sort of cool down. Here, sit here,” you encouraged, lowering the lid on the toilet so Matthew could drop down. You doubted you’d be able to hold much of his strength above the sink if you were to help him splash some cold water on his face.

“But I want that sort of cool down,” he slurred. “With you. Us two. You said you want to cool down too. Could be a couple activity.” He grinned, as if proud of himself.

Thankfully, Matthew was buzzed enough to miss the flush on your face, the slight shake of your hand as you arranged a towel around his neck to prevent too much overspill before turning the tap on.

“Can’t do that, Matthew. Here, this will be much better, I promise.”

“Wanna try though,” he mumbled but was still compliant as you pressed a wet, cool palm against his forehead, then either of his cheeks. “Not cool enough.” His complaint was accompanied by a frown which only morphed into a lazy smirk when he leaned back, trying to pull you with him. “C’mon, Y/N. It’s a couple’s Halloween night.”

“Matthew, we’re not a couple,” you said gently, pushing your palms against his shoulders in an attempt to free yourself from his hold. Before it was too late. Before you allowed yourself to get drawn into a drunk man’s ramblings.

“But I wanna be. A couple, with you.”

You put all your strength into breaking away from his hold and thankfully, managed to do so. Your heart was hammering in your chest as if desperately trying to release itself from the cage of your ribs.

“Matthew, you’re drunk. Here, splash some cold water on your face so you can come back to your senses.”

“But I’m not drunk,” he insisted and as if to demonstrate, he stood up quickly. He swayed on the spot, stretching out his arms a little and once he found his footing, he looked towards you with an expression that mixed pride with hopefulness. “See? Definitely okay—”

You frowned, feeling a little caged in. You should’ve left the door open at least. “Okay, then let’s go back out there, yeah? I can get an Uber and I’ll take you home if you prefer that?”

“Yes,” he said, then leaned back against the door. “Only if you come with me.”

You exhaled, suddenly tired as if the exchange was working every ounce of energy out of you. “I’ll come to make sure you’re okay and can make it to your bed okay.”

“I can though. I can definitely make it there even on my own and you know why? Because I’m not drunk,” Matthew insisted and when you shot him a look of disbelief, he peeled himself away from the door. “Look, look I can prove it to you I’m not drunk.”

Before you could even ask him to walk a straight line without stumbling his steps, Matthew’s arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand pressed on the back of your head, bringing you closer until your lips met. Kissing Matthew was like everything you imagined and more. He even did that with the same passion with which he skated on ice, chasing puck after puck. It left you breathless how well he worked his lips against your own as if all along, he knew how to do that in such way that it’d leave your legs feeling like jelly. Beyond that though, it felt comfortable. Not forceful despite him having not asked if he could do it in the first place, yet it still felt right. You tasted sweetness on his mouth and the sharp tang of whiskey. Vaguely, you knew nothing else could compare. It was that thought that made you push away from him with as much force as you could muster, ducking under his arm and towards the door.

“I’ll ask someone to take you home,” you said without even looking his way before leaving dashing out of the bathroom.

“You okay?” Anna asked you when you ran into her. Quite literally.

“Uh—yeah. No, actually. I think I feel a bit unwell so I’m going to head home, okay?”

You made a move to leave but her arm stopped you. “Hey. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Above her shoulder, you saw Matthew emerge from the bathroom, a little dazzled, eyes searching the room. Before he could even spot you, you quickly freed yourself from her hold and nodded. “Will be. I’ll text you when I get home. Don’t rush back, okay? Tell Alex I said thanks for the invite.”

You didn’t stumble a step in your heels as you jogged towards the door, making a swift exit before you attracted even more attention.

+ one.

Matthew left no calls and no messages, but that was fine. You didn’t spend time trying to build your expectations of anything like that happening because drunk words weren’t always sober thoughts. The event was just something you had to deal with and if you had to do it alone, then so be it. Reasonably speaking, you and Matthew went from nothing to friends and if you caught feelings along the way, then that was your mistake for letting yourself slip like that. You were left broken hearted once, you really didn’t want to go through that again especially over someone that wasn’t even really and truly yours to begin with.

So, the next morning, you woke up at a reasonably early hour despite the late night but felt energized enough to sweep through your apartment and collect the garments you tossed carelessly on your way to bed after arriving at home. You said a heartfelt goodbye to Sandy, apologizing that in this scenario, her and Danny didn’t end up driving off in a red convertible. After that, you showered and changed in a fresh set of clothes even if the day would most likely be spent indoors. It was a fitting conclusion to the Halloween weekend, and you could do with some downtime, really.

Anna must’ve stayed with Johnny because regardless of how much noise you made, she didn’t emerge from the room and after fixing a quick breakfast and brewing coffee to continued silence, you knew you were right. It didn’t bother you. You’d make full use of the couch and stretch out on it properly as you flicked through your Netflix account and for the sake of sticking to weekend morning traditions, you selected a lighthearted sitcom. You were halfway through the third episode when your doorbell rang. You could’ve sworn Anna had a spare key of her own unless she misplaced it or forgot it home. Not entirely out of question.

Except, it wasn’t Anna who greeted you when you opened the door.

“Oh.” You coughed lightly, crossing your arms then unfolding them, then leaning one against the doorway before dropping it to your side. “Hey—uh. Hey Tkachuk, isn’t it a bit early for you to be out and about? You were smashed the last time I saw you.”

Matthew looked over your shoulder into the apartment, as if checking to see if you were alone. “Can I come in?”

Defeated, you stepped to the side and cleared the way for him to step inside before pushing the door closed. Part of you wished you’d dressed up as if you were ready to head off somewhere. You weren’t quite ready nor willing to face whatever music Matthew had in mind for you.

In the aftermath of the party, out of the flashiness of the costume, Matthew seemed to be perfectly clear-headed despite the state you’d left him in. The curls atop his head seemed soft despite the natural frizz and as he passed by, you caught a whiff of sharp cologne and fresh bodywash.

“Is Anna here?”

“Are we playing twenty-one questions?”

“No?”

“Kind of sounds like it, though?” You laughed quietly, trying to lighten the mood. It was bad enough the weather outside was gloomy, autumn settling in full force. Now, you had to deal with a Matthew who looked as if he wasn’t sure he came to the right place. “Coffee?” you asked, already leading the way towards the kitchen. You heard him follow behind you just moments later. While you poured a full cup for him, he hovered by the table, making you frown at him. “What’s wrong with you? You need an invite to sit down and relax? Seriously, Matthew, you look like you should be in bed.”

“You left last night without saying anything,” he said instead.

“Uh—yeah. I was kind of tired and I wanted it to call it a night early so—”

“Was it because of what I said or what I did?”

You almost dropped the coffee cup, but fortunately only startled enough for the liquid to slosh over the rim and down the back of your hand, causing you to hiss in pain. You cursed quietly and, in an instant, Matthew crossed over the room and took the cup from you, setting it down on the table before leading you towards the sink. As if used to this, he placed your hand under ice cold water and once the sharp pain numbed, you pushed his hand away, taking a step to the side in an attempt to put more distance between you.

“It’s fine, I’ve got this,” you mumbled, holding your hand still under the jet for a few more seconds before closing it.

It was hardly worth the fuss, but it gave you a reason to make yourself busy with something other than freaking out. It couldn’t be that he remembered anything. It couldn’t be that he was standing in your kitchen, thinking that it was a good idea to just open up that subject when you were so ready to take a shovel to it and bury it six feet under.

“Didn’t you get tired of it at all?” he tried again.

“Tired of what?”

“Of pretending. Of only acting like we’re together for one reason or the other—”

“Matthew, I asked you only once and you know why. I apologized then but if it helps you sleep better at night, I’ll apologize again for dragging you into my mess. I don’t know what the point is of this discussion—”

“The point,” he said, raising his voice but only to cut through your speech. “The point is that I’m tired of it. I’m tired of having to be by your side and pretend. It got to a stage where I don’t even know what’s real and what isn’t, and I feel as if the only time I’ll know that for sure will be when you find someone, so you no longer need to turn to me to pretend.”

“Matthew, I’m not using you, if that’s what you’re thinking. You’re coming at me with this out of the blue and I don’t even understand what this is all about,” you argued, waving a hand between the two of you.

Matthew clenched his jaw. You watched as he flexed it and his eyebrows furrowed. “Do you need me to spell it out for you again? I thought I was pretty straightforward about what I want last night.”

“You were drunk last night, is what you were. You could hardly put a foot in front of the other.”

“You know that’s not true,” he retorts, lifting his arms then dropping them back down to his sides. “I was sober enough to know damn well what I said and why I said it. If you want to keep pretending even now, even at this point, then you go ahead and do that but let me be clear with you again and you take what you want from it: I don’t want to pretend with you anymore. I want to be with you. You want to know what that feels like? It feels a lot like being so close to something you want, literally having that thing dangled right in front of you only to have it snatched just when you think it’s yours. Me kissing you last night? I’m sorry I forced it on you, I could’ve gone about doing it differently but I’m not sorry for what I feel. That was all me and not the alcohol. So, you take this and do what you want with it.”

You stared at him, disbelieving your ears. It wouldn’t surprise you if that was the case: you did wake up surprisingly refreshed even after an emotionally charged night, so for all you knew, you could be dreaming this.

“Matthew, what are you—That’s, you’re kidding me with this right? You can’t. You can’t possibly think that.”

“And why not?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense. Are you even hearing yourself talk?”

“Why doesn’t it make sense? Want me to go about it differently? If you let me pull your hair, I’ll let you push me in the sandbox.”

You were suffering from a strange, ill-timed case of déjà vu. Part of you wanted to laugh at the situation but the bigger part of you triumphed, thankfully. You released a breath you had been holding, bringing both hands up to cover your face, taking some moments to yourself. Or perhaps, you’d lost track of time because eventually, you heard Matthew sigh and felt his fingers wrap around each wrist though he didn’t put pressure to tug your hands down from your face.

“Sorry. I’m just—I’m not doing this the right way. I don’t want it to seem like I’m forcing my feelings on you and that you should accept them. If I misread us—you at any point, then fine. Just, we can drop it here and I’ll deal with it but—”

You shook your head slowly. “No, I just need a moment. Sorry. You really caught me by surprise. I didn’t… I thought everything you said last night…what you did… I thought that was just, well, just the alcohol. So, I did the best thing I knew to do and, uh, left.”

“Drunk words, sober thoughts,” he reminded you quietly and this time, you dropped your hands away from your face so you could look up at him.

He was so handsome. Ridiculously handsome in his casual clothes. Briefly, you thought back to the time you first found safety in his arms and wondered if maybe… Well, why not. You closed the distance between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him, fingers clinging to the thick material of his hoodie while you faceplanted against his chest and breathed him in.

You liked Matthew. You liked Matthew so much that the admission overwhelmed you so much that you squeezed him to you, trying desperately to bring him closer. The gesture seemed to prompt him into action, and he returned the hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and then to the base of your throat once he’d lowered his head there.

“Me too. I want to be with you too. Really be with you. No more of this pretend stuff,” you told him, your voice muffled against his body, but you knew he caught every word.

He chuckled, the sound low and deep, sending shivers down your spine. “We won Noah’s competition last night.”

“Bet he did it because of your long face,” you commented, unable to help yourself. “What did we win?”

Matthew made a move to step back, but you clung to him, much to your embarrassment. It seemed as if your body acted out of sync with your mind, but who could blame it when Matthew stood right there, right before you. Turned out he only took a step back to lift you off your feet and instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his hips, arms resting loosely around his neck. You leaned in and pressed a fleeting kiss to his mouth as he stumbled away from the kitchen while you stole another kiss. And then, just because you could, a third.

“A voucher to a seafood restaurant,” he informed you, breaking into a laugh when you groaned, throwing your head back in sheer frustration even if you had a strong feeling he was only messing with you.

“Remind me to never put so much effort if that’s what the stake are.”

“Noted. Next time, I’ll tell you we could just stay home for Halloween and play by our rules. Outfits optional. Probably not recommended.”

“That’s…really not what I said.”

“I’m reading between the lines. See? We know each other so well.”

You laughed as he carried you all the way into your room without even as much as breaking a sweat. That was definitely some food for thought at a later point.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #*

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

Though I Can't Recall Your Face, I Still Got Love For You

Summary: Spencer’s always been ambivalent about his birthday, but self proclaimed lover of birthday’s Y/N attempts to change that.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Warnings: Spencer’s kind of a sad bitch. Question: Why do I like writing sad Spencer?

Word Count: 2.5 K- ish

Author’s Note: prompts come from here this one is 4,8,25 from @shemarmooresfedora !! please go check out her blog on here and on Ao3!! Also, I’m stilling taking requests for numbers. I’ll update for which ones have been taken 💕

Though I Can’t Recall Your Face, I Still Got Love for You

Birthdays were always hard when all you had to do is go home to an empty house. No sounds of friends crowding the dining room table, no laughter from family members, no well wishes or pats on the back. All there is, is the stillness of silence and the emptiness of solitude. Spencer thought that he was used to it. He remembers the way the sun felt on his face the morning he woke up on his 18th birthday. His first thought wasn’t it’s my day, but it’s the day I put my mom away. The day Spencer became a man, was the first day he really wished he was a little boy again.

Ever since then, birthdays have always been a sore spot for Spencer. They just bring up sour tasting memories of his mother refusing to get out of bed or his father staying late at work to avoid coming home to a wife who doesn’t remember her own husband or a son who he can’t seem to understand. Birthdays, for Spencer, have always been just another day. Or at least, that’s what Spencer tells himself on the long ride up the elevator to the 6th floor of the BAU.

The bullpen is dark when Spencer walks out from the elevator. Paperwork and manila folders clutter the desks. Even Spencer’s workspace seems to reflect himself: frozen in time. He sits at his desk, a photograph of him and his mother placed at the right corner smiles up at him. A newer photograph, one of him and Y/N, sits right next to the one with his mom. There’s one with Derek and Penelope, one with him and Gideon at his Academy graduation, and one with him and JJ, who’s holding Henry. One of him and Luke at a bar, Penelope in the background drunk and singing.

Spencer loves photographs, but recently he’s been obsessed with them. Ever since his mother’s diagnosis, the fear that would ever forget the faces that find a home in his heart paralyzes him. These pictures may very well one day tell a much more older, much more grayer Spencer the story of his life. Today, in his mind, is another day closer to his fate.

His birthday means he’s another day closer to forgetting the way Y/N eyes sparkle when she drinks too much rose, or Henry’s laugh at Spencer’s magic tricks, or feeling when Derek calls him his brother. No one, not even Y/N, knows that Spencer has a drawer filled up of photographs he’s collected over the years. He can’t deal with forgetting the principles of electromagnetism, but forgetting his family? Spencer wouldn’t have anything left, but the smiling faces of familiar strangers, whose names are just out of reach.

Spencer rubs his eyes with the ball of his palm. He knows he’s not going to get work done. Spencer spins in his swivel chair and he’s nearly startled out of his quiet thoughts when his phone rings.

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” he says, swallowing his emotions as he shuts the drawer on the shiny faces.

“You really need to start checking your caller ID, Spence,” Y/N says, with a chuckle. Spencer can practically feel the way she’s smiling. For some reason, her teasing never made him feel bad.

“Well, what do I owe this pleasure?” Spencer asks. He drums his fingers on his desk, waiting for Y/N to respond.

“It seems like we have a missing person case,” Y/N starts, “6’2 male, brown hair, some say his eyes are green and some say they’re brown, so we’ll go with hazel, and he’s like ridiculously smart, but also kind of dumb for avoiding his girlfriend on his birthday,”

Spencer sighs as he launches himself into a long spin in his chair. He’s not surprised that Y/N is calling him; she’s always loved birthdays. She’s always been someone to someone. It’s taken some time to adjust to the fact that Spencer is Y/N’s someone.

“Are you coming to rescue me?” Spencer asks sheepishly. He leans back in his chair, watching the elevator. Y/N might think she’s slick, but Spencer’s sure he knows her better than he knows geographical profiling.

“Maybe, can you tell me how fast elevators can travel up to the 6th floor?”

Spencer opens his mouth, ready to fire statistics on top of statistics, but is silenced by Y/N’s arrival. Spencer tries to remain neutral, remain ambivalent about this day being something more than any other day, but Y/N makes it difficult.

As soon as her feet leave the elevator she launches herself at Spencer, not caring that he’s less than capable of catching anything. In a tangle of arms and legs, Y/N manages to sit herself on Spencer’s lap. His hand snakes around her waist; he holds her so tight that it’s almost like he’s afraid she’s going to get blown out like birthday candles on a cake.

“I can’t believe you thought you could sneak out and come to work, on your birthday of all days,” Y/N says quietly, she threads her fingers through Spencer’s hair. She likes how long it’s gotten and his curl pattern is almost fully restored to their original health from before he went to prison.

“How’d you find me?” Spencer asks, thinking that birthdays might not be so bad if they all involve Y/N sitting in his lap and trying to braid his hair.

“Do you seriously have to ask that? Only the Oracle of Quantico,” Y/N teases and Spencer rolls his eyes, thinking he should have known that Garcia would be the one to track his location for Y/N.

“It’s vaguely illegal for a federal agent to tap into those databases, especially for a civilian,” Spencer counters. Y/N, smiling at him, dips her head down to press light kisses on his eyebrows and down the bridge of his nose.

“So’s an ex-Army Ranger giving me his key card to sneak into the BAU,”

“Luke’s in on this too,” Spencer tries to sound upset, but his heart swells at the thought of Penelope, Luke, and Y/N all instigating for his birthday.

“Of course he is, I had to bring out the big guns for my Spencer’s birthday,” Y/N quips. Her fingers climb up Spencer’s sides, tickling him. She likes the kind of laugh that he lets out when she tickles him. It’s a laugh that’s unguarded and full of life. It’s a laugh that doesn’t hold anything back. It’s a laugh that relieves the pressure that festers deep inside him.

Y/N’s hands may make him laugh, but nothing makes him beam more than hearing Y/N call him “my Spencer”. She says it so simply, like my doesn’t even exist, like it’s an involuntary muscle being flexed. For Y/N, loving Spencer came as easy and effortless as breathing.

“You do love birthdays,” Spencer says, looking up at Y/N. He spins them around in his swivel chair, giggling as she lets out a gleeful squeal. Spencer grows dizzy, but he thinks he’s dizzier from Y/N’s love than from spinning in his chair.

“I love your birthday more than any other day, even my birthday,” Y/N says, getting up from Spencer’s lap to pick up the canvas grocery bags she brought with her.

“I was never one for birthdays,” Spencer says quietly. Y/N, more than anyone, knows Spencer’s challenging past. She knows his fears and she knows his dreams. She haunts his every waking moment; somehow a mercurial threat and a constant promise at the same time.

“I know, but I’m sure I’ll make you grow to love them,” Y/N says, “I wasn’t sure which flavor you wanted so I got all of them. Wawa has a surprisingly good selection of Turkey Hill,”

She takes out three gallon sized cartons of ice cream. One coffee with chocolate chips, one butter pecan, and one Moose Tracks. She hands Spencer a spoon and a napkin before sitting down on the floor and opening a carton of the ice cream.

“I do love dairy,” Spencer says, eyeing the ice cream, but considering the consequences of eating the creamy desert. Spencer shoves the statistics about the effects of dairy on a 40 year old with lactose intolerance down and takes his spot next to Y/N on the floor.

He goes to open his carton of ice cream, coffee with chocolate chips, but before he can dig his spoon into the tub, Y/N grabs his wrist.

“No! Spence, wait. Here, take these. And you need to light it,” she says, plopping a couple lactose pills in his hand and digging out a pack of candles and a lighter from her bag.

“Y/N are you out of your mind! We can’t light something in the BAU, god, Emily will kill me,” Spencer says nervously.

“Spence, do you really think Emily Prentiss is going to give me shit for lighting a candle for your birthday in the middle of the office. That woman lives on the edge,” Y/N waves him off and lights a single candle.

Spencer, staring at the lit candle, listens as Y/N sings “Happy Birthday” to him. Sitting criss cross on the floor of the BAU, he watches as the candle light illuminates Y/N’s face. She looks almost ghostly in the dark with the flickering light making her eyes glow. Y/N wishes the song and grasps his hand and squeezes hard.

“Make a wish, baby,” Y/N tells him. She really believes in wishes. Spencer wishes he could believe in wishes. He desperately wants to believe that Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos are somehow tying knots in the places where his string has been cut.

But more than anything, Spencer can’t bear to forget the face of the women across from. He can’t bear to one day not recognize the way her hand feels in his. He can’t accept the possibility of Y/N being anything less than the person he knows best in this world. Spencer doesn’t particularly care for the metaphor of the light going out. But his fears are put at bay when Y/N leans over and pecks his cheek. He can feel her grinning against his skin and like some virus contracted through touch, it’s contagious. Y/N breaks apart from Spencer and motions for him to eat some ice cream. They sit, shoulder to shoulder, against the front of Spencer’s desk eating their ice cream.

“Thank you, for making my birthday special. It’s been a hard year,” Spencer says, letting the tension in the air speak for itself, “my mom didn’t remember me the other day. I hate seeing her like that,”

“I know, sweetheart. You’ve been through so much. That’s why you need to tell me these things,” She says, setting down her ice cream. Y/N places her hands on Spencer’s shoulders, guiding him to place his back against her chest. His head rests in the crook of her neck. Spencer can feel her steady heart beat against his back. It’s a constant, patterned drum amidst the chaos of his mind.

“Can we take a picture, you know, just to remember this day,” Spencer asks, his voice laced with trepidation. He can feel Y/N nod, and move to grab her phone from her pocket.

Spencer sits up and scoots over to open the bottom drawer of his desk. He pulls out an old camera, one where you have to wait for the picture to appear on the print out. He likes the charm in older things, you really have to work for it. He likes the effort that you have to put into getting the picture made.

“Going old school, I see,” Y/N teases as she catches sight of Spencer’s old camera. He returns to his spot, snuggled against her back. Their legs stick out on the floor, his much longer than Y/N’s. Her arms snake around his torso, holding him tight. Spencer holds the camera out, facing them to capture their faces in some archaic selfie style.

The light flashes before Spencer’s eyes, and Y/N’s kiss on the top of his head burns a hole that instantly leaves him craving more. He’d let her draw any pattern she desires, as long as her kisses are the medium and he is her canvas.

“Can you tell me what you wished for?” Y/N asks, her voice low.

Spencer, looking off into the distance, makes a disgruntled noise. He can feel Y/N’s fingers crawl up his sides and her arms encasing his body. She’s shielding him from his demons, but little does she know that the most menacing foe is his mind.

“You’re really not supposed to, but considering you’re my wish I think you have the right to know,” Spencer offers, “I wished that I’ll never forget you. Never forget this life we made together,” He feels his chest constrict. Mentioning his fear makes it seem more palpable; more real.

“Spencer, have you felt that way for a long time?,”

Spencer takes a deep breath, letting the floodgates open.

“I’ve felt like this my whole life, Y/N. I’m terrified to forget you. To forget our children that I haven’t even met yet. Forget who I am. I’m terrified that I’m going to leave you behind in a murky past that I can never remember,” Spencer says. He chokes back the pain. He doesn’t want Y/N memories of him to be marred by fear and darkness.

“This is about your mom, right. Spencer, listen to me. I’ll love you even if that comes true. I don’t need you to recall my face to know you still got love for me. And you're not leaving me behind. I won’t allow that. I’m not leaving you behind, baby,” Y/N says, her voice the most soothing cure.

She’s a power mixture of biochemicals and neurotransmitters. She heals him at an epigenetic level and restores him piece by piece. Her medicine is love.

Or maybe her love is his medicine.

“I’ve never been this scared of losing something, because I never had someone to lose,” Spencer mumbles, he twists his head so his breath is warm against Y/N’s neck. Somehow in this twisted position, Spencer has never felt safer.

“You can’t lose something that can’t be lost, my Spencer. I’m not going anywhere,”

“I love you to the moon and to Saturn,” Spencer says kissing along Y/N’s collarbones.

Like the pictures in the drawer, Spencer tucks away the fears of the future. He swallows the threat of forgetting everything because the promise of love swallows him whole. He craves a future with Y/N with the possibility of forgetting who she is over the life he’d live if he left her behind.

She said it best, even if one day he can’t recall her face, he’ll still have love for her.

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yoimix · 3 years

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haikyuu!! as types of best friends.

➼ ft. hinata, sugawara, bokuto, osamu+atsumu.

➼ playlist. talk too much - coin, higher - banks, romanticism - mrs green apple, me and my friends - james vincent mcmorrow

➼ a/n. these have light bff2l undertones hhn i love that trope, pls forgive me. </3 + there’s some timeskip spoilers for atsumu & osamu’s part.

❀ hinata :-

i wish the childhood best friends trope a very good evening.

no one’s better than hinata at making friends, even if you met after he spiked a ball into your face. you’re childhood best friends too !! so imagine being a child and having to pick up this goofball by the scruff, who has the audacity to ask you to play with him after giving you a scratched up forehead and teary eyes from a ball to the face. but, like, you were the one who said yes so it’s on you :-)

sometimes you bicker but it’s ok bc he would literally go to the ends of the earth for you if you asked. no kidding. he hates sitting still anyway so he’ll just gravitate towards where you are like you’re the sun. also gets you taiyaki in the evenings but climbs in through your window instead of using the front door like a normal person. (he has too much energy </3) if you hear someone yelling your name outside your window and ranting about volleyball games, you know who it is.

ok when he makes you mad with his bullheadedness, you'll be complaining with kageyama (who agrees vehemently) and hinata gets pissy bc you get along a little too well when you're throwing insults about him. (he's not jealous, no, of course not.) but.. how long can you stay mad at this sunshine child anyway?? you'll be pretending you never got mad at all within a few hours and go back to joking around.

he gets distracted if you're watching a match sometimes (bokuto somehow got it into his head that he needs to show off in front of you) so you got banned from watching. he overcomes it later on so you can cheer him on in his jersey too <3

gives you ALL his attention when you talk or even complain about your life. he reacts a lot to whatever you have to say so you have to pretend there aren’t people behind you glaring at hinata for having the same decibel sound level as a jet engine.

you have matching keychains you bought at a local fair !!! (you got a pochacco one for hinata but it’s super worn out by now so he keeps it in his wallet instead.)

he has not won a single multiplayer video game against you (*cough cough* mario kart *cough*) and you don’t even have to be good at it. if you call him a loser, he’ll lose even harder. gets unnecessarily mad at just dance and you have to calm him down.

... you’ve probably kissed bc the two of you (mostly him) were too eager for a first kiss and you got fed up with his pubescent ramblings and ended up kissing him. and then had an early mid-life crisis bc you guys are definitely just friends. (unless.. unless he doesn’t think that way.. surprise surprise 😳) also he's.. kind of bad for make out practice... it’s like kissing a month old puppy.. sorry :/. if you happen to make a lot of offhand comments and tease him about his kissing skills, he WILL turn tomato red and argue in gibberish. only do that in private bc the rest of the world thinks you’re sickeningly cute together >:(

overall, your best friend is a ball of sunshine (who occasionally pisses you off) and your #1 motivation to get out of bed. it's mostly bc he's somehow there to get you out of bed though you've repeatedly told him to not climb in through your window. at least the sun is smiling upon you every day <3

❀ sugawara :-

being best friends with him is such a secure relation !!

he’s your soft place to fall but also would provide gentle (not so gentle) reminders for your wellbeing (STUDY!!! WATER!!!! BREAKFAST!!). doesn’t get mad when you say you skipped breakfast but gives you this look of disappointment which is 100x more effective. still gets a granola bar for you though. also he literally carries bandaids for u and he’s been doing that since second grade bc you fell off the swing ONCE. you know, just in case. if you’re an accident-prone hazard to society, you’re in luck.

BEST HUGS especially if you had a rough day and want to sob into his shoulder. if u damage his $85 hoodie tho, he will make u do his laundry and also buy snacks for him. but like he is so soft (his skin is SUPER soft bc he actually follows a skincare routine now) and cuddly like a teddy bear, it's a small price to pay for salvation.

he will hype you up for anything you do !!!! new outfit? offers to be your personal photographer. scored an A+? will treat u to your fav ice-cream. new job? will tell everyone just how proud he is.

ALWAYS shares the last bite with you and smiles to himself when you eat it so contented. also!!! hanging out at cafes and taking cute pictures is a must <3 even though you’re not dating, you’ll have photos together that make you look a real couple which ensue teasing from daichi and asahi and admiration/jealousy from noya and tanaka. also he gets weirdly protective of you around the team (i’m looking at the moron quartet) and you have to pull the “koushi you’re not my mom” card. it really strikes a chord with him when you say that out loud.

will egg your ex's house with you if you say the word. somehow gets more pissed than you at your ex (if they're a shitty one). it's kind of scary when he's mad too so.... good luck calming him down. he's also really good at sarcastic trash talk so if you happen to meet your ex on the street... send prayers for their self-esteem.

you don't really fight often but if you happen to disagree, he'll go about it in a pretty mature way and talk it out. if you pick a fight on purpose, he'll catch on to it and either tickle you (excessively) or flick your forehead as punishment for trying to rile him up. it’s impossible to prank him!!!!! it’s like he’s got a sixth sense or something so you might as well give up on anything of the sort.

you said you want to get a dog (or cat) with him in the near future and he somehow equated that to having children. turned bright red and started saying it’s too soon to be thinking of that while you had daichi stop you from smacking some sense into your overly imaginative best friend. (i mean, you do need to live together if you want to raise a pet sooo)

his lockscreen is a picture of the two of you so a lot of people who try to hit on him take the hint quick. he says it’s unintentional but you know he can be terribly scheming at times. if you say something like “why don’t you date me for real, coward” he will malfunction and not be able to look you in the eye. (“don’t joke around, y/n” “what if i’m not” “it kind of feels illegal to date you” “what do you mean?!💢”)

anyway you are one lucky mf if you have sugawara koushi as your best friend even if there are both ups and downs (mostly ups). having someone care for you so blatantly certainly makes the question of romance arise but you’re content with the most loving best friend ever.

❀ bokuto :-

you guys are the “two best friends in a room, we might kiss” “yes we will” “what” type of best friends PLS

it doesn’t matter what stage of life you met him, it’ll feel like you’ve been best friends since the beginning of time.

it’s just so easy to make friends with this airhead and by god’s gift, you cannot physically get annoyed at this man. sometimes his friends will complain about him being forgetful or blunt but you’re just there like. yeah. that’s bokuto. love him for it. (you seem to have a lot of patience.)

he probably gets into trouble with authority unwittingly, so save your weekends to sweet talk his way out after accidentally implying the coach has a weak mindset. afterwards, you go get ice cream or something and hang out at the dog park to forget it happened. (the amount of second hand embarrassment bokuto has given you though... you need some hard drugs to forget all of it.)

you probably make a lot of friends through him in high school/college but at the end of the day, it’s just you and him and sometimes akaashi making sure you guys are alive. if you guys are alone together on a friday night, you’ll still be having fun!! very often, it takes shape as karaoke :-) bokuto thinks he’s really great at rapping for some reason (he’s not) so cue you screaming the lyrics in an attempt to ruin your part of the song equally. also he always sets the key wrong??? although you sing the same songs each time?? sometimes he picks a song neither of you have ever heard and the both of you try to guess the melody. he’s terrible at it but at least he’s funny. there’s not a single song he hasn’t had a voice crack in.

if you go clubbing/partying with him, get prepared to be introduced as the friend of “the guy who did four keg stands in a row before proceeding to do a cartwheel unprompted and somehow not throw up”. is on first name basis with the bartenders/hosts and gets you free drinks. also gets hit on often but is oblivious unless they’re being very straightforward. if he’s not into them... you have to pull the s/o card and save his ass. oh also he barks at anyone that gets near your drink.

will always exaggerate when introducing you to new people. “y/n and i met when i saved them from drowning a terrible death.” “it was the children’s pool and you were the one that was screaming.” “and then y/n didn’t really thank me but it’s not like heroes need thanks to do the right thing.” “kou, i will push you into a pool right now, let’s see how well you swim.” (he learned swimming to impress you so joke’s on you.)

he likes to watch you do stuff at the end of the day, so if you see him go o_o at you doing homework, you can just put your earphones on and focus on your work. even if he’s making.. a strangely.. adorable expression. also LOVES to listen to you talk about your day when he’s tired, he says it helps him sleep better (so expect a lot of nighttime calls). moreover, if you say you had a bad dream, he’ll comfort you with his ridiculously confident tone of voice (unless the dream was about something bad happening to him, then he’ll freak out and you’ll have to comfort him instead </3)

ok one thing that’s annoying about him is that he probably leaves food crumbs over your stuff like laptop, bed sheet, etc. you clean it up but bokuto.. is a bit... distracted to notice the mess he’s making. it’s usually pretty difficult to get him to be more aware, but like your glare is enough to make him at least try to be careful from the next time. (either that or he’s become sensitive to your change in mood/emotions bc you know... you’re best friends after all.)

i’m not gonna lie, he probably catches feelings for you at some point. he wants to, like, keep it lowkey bc akaashi told him to take your feelings into consideration too but?? it’s so hard?? you’re literally so pretty?? everything you say is like music to him??? he reacts reflexively to all the firecracker feelings u give him. he probably says he likes you all the time but you dismiss it with “as a friend right :-)”. there’s no climbing up from that one, sorry bokuto.

to summarize, if a moody golden retriever was your human best friend.exe

❀ miya twins :-

they feel like a set. it would be strange to have one of the twins as a bff and not have the other one around whoops 🤷‍♀️

either you and osamu bully atsumu in your free time, or you and atsumu annoy osamu for fun (or both) <3. it’s always a good idea to team up with osamu and prank atsumu for fun btw. (put wasabi in his breakfast pancakes and you’ll get a very pissed off but weirdly cute tsumtsum. you can blame it on osamu if you don’t want to face his wrath.) your alternative is to embarrass osamu in front of strangers with atsumu, have fun with that. (second hand embarrassment also works.)

when you were younger, you pretended to not be able to distinguish the twins bc it would visibly rile atsumu up and then you’d go “ok you’re atsumu”... which would further rile him up. osamu got used to your shenanigans though it ticked him off the first time too LOL. call them the wrong name on purpose and they’ll start a riot; be careful when you’re playing with fire pls.

you guys played a lot of knight and prince/princess/royal when you were a kid and atsumu would always try to make osamu the evil dragon holding you captive. in the end, you were somehow the knight, osamu the prince to be rescued and atsumu the big, bad dragon. (it’s kind of funny in hindsight. your parents have photographs of the three of you fighting like no tomorrow.) also speaking of which, your parents are also friends and have bets on which twin you’ll marry (or if you will at all). it’s tearing your parents’ friendship apart.

these two have DEFINITELY fought over whose jersey number you’re going to wear to the games ( “oi, ‘samu, stop brainwashing my best friend into wearing your stupid double digit number” “you know i’m the best friend, ‘tsumu. they clearly like me better over yer ratty ass.” “what did ya say?!?!? if anything, you’re the one that looks like ratatouille.”) you wore kita's jersey number to games.

imagine sunday picnics with the boys !!! by that, i specifically mean osamu and his perfect bento boxes <3 sometimes the two of you will cook together before your outings while a sulking atsumu stands outside bc you didn’t let him. (let him in, you monsters.) he says he can cook too but the last time the twins’ bickering almost burnt the whole kitchen down. the picnics continue well into adulthood and you get to diss your boss to the twins who will always support your rants. (sometimes atsumu will tell you it’s your fault but you can smack him off. we only need supportive besties here 🙄)

if someone hurts u.... they’re going to need divine intervention to be safe... you have two well-built, physically adept best friends ready to beat the shit out of anyone who deliberately breaks ur heart.

when the twins get into a physical fight...... oh boy. it kinda pisses you off that they’re spewing profanity at each other and you’re the one getting glares. but at the same time, you don’t really want to step into a fight that has nothing to do with you. people should solve their interpersonal issues on their own. they have never fought over you, this isn’t twilight <3

but the question did come up once on which twin you like better; it’s not something to seriously fight over though. if you chose osamu, atsumu will complain for six days straight and you’ll start to regret ever answering the question. if you say atsumu, osamu won’t feed you his onigiri anymore for a few days which is just as bad. the safest choice is to say neither bc it will both be funny and you won’t suffer too many consequences. if you say you love the both of them for being your best friends all this time and go all mushy, there’s a slight chance they’ll go soft too. god help you from the bone crushing hug you’re about to receive 🙏

you make sure to not miss any of atsumu’s official games !! sometimes he’ll wave at you and make the reporters give you hell bc he’s a little shit. just push osamu to them and run away if it gets that bad. (he gets free advertising for his shop, he should be grateful.)

osamu is super good at cheering you up!!! whether it’s with food or with pleasant talk, you’ll be feeling much better with a full stomach and a calmer state of mind. as for atsumu, he’s really good at you cheering you up by distracting you. he’ll talk about his team or this new serve he learnt and the world will seem a lot brighter bc he seems so happy about it. whichever twin you go to, it’s win-win.

in return, the twins take up a good chunk of your time. sometimes atsumu will crash at your place after a game though you’ve told him to not lead the damn reporters here. osamu makes you taste test his experimental onigiri... which are not always good..... no seriously, why’d he put honey and tuna in there ?? but still, your life is ridiculously colorful with them around.

anyway, what can i say except what’s better than one best friend?? two best friends !!!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #bokuto x reader #sugawara x reader #hinata x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #atsumu #osamu #bokuto #sugawara #hinata #rosemi.hcs #kind of all over the place but it's about the vibes thank you #feel free to correct any typos i made im about to pass out gn ;-;

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sagamemes · 3 years

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the sheridan tapes 📼 part two. here and under the cut, you can find over 130 lines of dialogue from the horror podcast the sheridan tapes, specifically from episodes four to six, edited for roleplay purposes. some of these focus heavily on survival, war, science, and spooky stuff, but a lot can be used by anyone. tw: war, unreality, a mention of cannibalism, implications of manic behaviour.

❝ god, i hate snowstorms like this. not just getting caught in them, but the storms themselves. it feels like the earth’s trying to bury me alive every time it locks in like this. like nature’s rightly pissed off at all of us and doing its level best to crush us to death. ❞

❝ that’s what yom kippur means: the day of atonement. ❞

❝ that wasn’t the first time i’ve caught him in my office, going through my stuff. ❞

❝ normally i’d be annoyed at someone calling me young lady. ❞

❝ thank you… you are so warm… thank you for letting me in. ❞

❝ suddenly, everything fell into place. i made more progress than i had in about half a year. ❞

❝ the thing i remember most was catching disapproving glances from my father every time i went to the library. ❞

❝ why does time only run forward? why does cause need to precede effect? ❞

❝ no one knows if they can trust me with casework or not. ❞

❝ i didn’t say i was interested. ❞

❝ [he/i] was taken off duty and sent for psychiatric evaluation the next day. ❞

❝ coffee. i was making coffee. ❞

❝ i didn't mean to get stuck out here. ❞

❝ that just goes to show how small humans really are in the grand scheme of things: take away our tools and our toys and our technology, and we’re still just as vulnerable as we ever were. ❞

❝ she was good at that: making you feel like you were safe, like you could open up to her. ❞

❝ i’m just going to cover that one up. no harm in keeping it out of sight for the moment. ❞

❝ maybe there was someone in the stairs. ❞

❝ i think i did the lion’s share of the talking, which almost never happens. ❞

❝ i couldn’t get to sleep... i figured i’d get a head start today. ❞

❝ i’m afraid i don’t have all of the details of your involvement with the… tragic events in [place]. and i don’t think i’m the only one. ❞

❝ i’m still not sure i understand the whole tradition. ❞

❝ whatever it is, it’s chasing me. i can hear it’s footsteps in the snow, i can hear it— ❞

❝ when you work nights here, the less you really think about them, the better. ❞

❝ honestly, i just can’t get it out of my head. ❞

❝ snow is one of nature’s simplest and most effective ways of killing you dead if you aren’t prepared for it. ❞

❝ i wish you’d tell me what you’re doing here. i could lose my job if anything gets broken or if you end up getting hurt in there… ❞

❝ would you say you… considered her a friend? ❞

❝ would you mind saying your name again? for the recording? ❞

❝ if that was true, then there was something—and as a scientist, i hate to say this—supernatural going on in that lab. ❞

❝ most of them didn’t make it. a lot of them died afraid and alone, too. ❞

❝ i know you don’t like listening to these things, so i just wanted to help you out with… ❞

❝ if i could sleep, then trust me, i would. ❞

❝ i’m guessing the new owners are trying to make this place seem less creepy than it already is. ❞

❝ my schooling was expensive and unremarkable. ❞

❝ a lot of them died afraid and alone, too: ideal conditions for the making of poltergeists, in my experience. ❞

❝ look, i’m sorry, but this really isn’t a good time for anything, so if you wouldn’t mind… ❞

❝ basically, i was picturing a slightly creepier morticia addams. i couldn’t have been more wrong. ❞

❝ now i have to deal with [name]’s aspirations to write drama.. ❞

❝ i promise i won’t get you sacked. ❞

❝ i’ve never been very religious, but for some reason… it made me think of hell. ❞

❝ i think it may have been a thank you. ❞

❝ i’m working the graveyard shift and i noticed the lights were on. ❞

❝ i shouldn’t be here. no one asked me to come in this early. ❞

❝ everyone around here looks at me like i’m some kind of leper. ❞

❝ i had to go home for a few hours. i’m already on thin ice around here, and i didn’t want to get in more trouble for screaming obscenities up and down the wall. ❞

❝ it was… darkness. no, that doesn’t do it credit, the whole place was dark. this was just... void. ❞

❝ if i’d seen her anywhere else, i’d think she was an athlete or a backpacker. ❞

❝ better scientists than me have been bashing their heads into that particular wall since 1927. ❞

❝ i just want you to know that… whatever you really are... you’re safe here. ❞

❝ goats being goats, it would just come back the next day looking for food. ❞

❝ i would like you to leave my office now… and i’ll ask you not to tamper with evidence in the future, understood? ❞

❝ no, of course, i don’t have signal out here, so i can’t just call triple-a. ❞

❝ what are you doing in my office—at four goddamn thirty in the morning? ❞

❝ you ever wonder where the line is? you know, between human and not? ❞

❝ the funny thing i’ve noticed about war: no matter how terrible the fighting is, there always seems to be too much waiting. too much quiet. too much sitting around, bored to tears between fits of chaos and violence, lost in routine while waiting for the other shoe to drop. ❞

❝ a lot of people condemn them for that. we’re so sure we’d never resort to that—that we’d rather die than cross that unspoken boundary. ❞

❝ i’ve been at the [workplace/institution] for ten years now. that’s long enough to know that the ones who ask questions are the ones who can’t cut it. ❞

❝ the program blew every fuse in the lab. including the lights. ❞

❝ it was soon after they left that i began to have trouble sleeping. ❞

❝ perhaps we never knew each other as well as most friends do, but… we cared for one another. ❞

❝ most of her questions are a bit above my pay grade. ❞

❝ i’m trying, i’m trying! i can’t get the door open! ❞

❝ i don’t know why she needed my help: i think she had a better grasp of it than most science fiction writers. ❞

❝ we both had places to be afterwards, so we kind of rushed. i really wish i’d taken the time to say goodbye. ❞

❝ i guess some things just… don’t want to stay buried. ❞

❝ it was completely against orders of course, but no one really noticed or cared that far from the front. ❞

❝ i offered to buy him a cup of coffee. ❞

❝ newspapers praised them at the time: saw them as heroes of exploration and paragons of pioneer courage. ❞

❝ i signed a lot of big, scary nda’s during my time there. ❞

❝ i did the only thing that came to mind: i took a grenade from my belt, removed the pin, and threw it. ❞

❝ i doubt this storm will last more than a couple of days, and once it lets up we can sneak out of here and get going again. very, very carefully. ❞

❝ given enough time, everything will rot away to its elementary components, and that, you can’t reverse. ❞

❝ i really can’t see anything from inside the van. ❞

❝ i knew there were a few experiments that dealt with some pretty high-level theoretical concepts, but i wasn’t directly involved with any of them. ❞

❝ it’s a strange choice, but then again, he’s a strange man. ❞

❝ i know, it sounds ridiculous. trust me, i’ve done everything i can think of to make that conclusion go away. ❞

❝ scared the bejeezus out of a bunch of skiers, but they were nice enough to let me in after deciding i probably wasn’t a ghost. ❞

❝ please… it burns my skin… please… ❞

❝ i forgot how fast storms blow in up here. ❞

❝ it’s not like i felt out of control: it felt more natural than breathing. ❞

❝ i didn’t know what i was doing, not at any conscious level. but one step seemed to lead to another, then the next, and then the next. ❞

❝ it’s called a butcher’s shop in some places, but a mortuary in others. as much as i’d love to imply there was some sweeney todd style recycling going on here, i think the place has just been a lot of things over the years. ❞

❝ god, these things are creepy as hell. ❞

❝ if you wouldn’t mind, please, tell us what happened? in your own time, of course. ❞

❝ it took a few long, nerve-wracking days to work up my courage and visit the section again. ❞

❝ it’s not that odd to think that people ate each other out there. ❞

❝ i didn’t think there was a ghost in my room or anything like that, i just kept hearing noises whenever i was about to fall asleep. ❞

❝ i downed half a dozen energy drinks at 6 and called it dinner—i know, i know, it’s a nasty habit i picked up in grad school. ❞

❝ they told me that the cpu and motherboard had somehow been melted into a solid lump of plastic and silicon. ❞

❝ i mean, [name] was a pain in the ass, but at least he didn’t… ❞

❝ my schedule was full, but i had something else fall through at the last minute. i had your number on my desk, so i thought i may as well call. ❞

❝ i wonder if it was afraid, or if it even realized what was going to happen. it probably didn’t. ❞

❝ i need to get more coffee. or punch someone. whichever’s more convenient. ❞

❝ god, if that’s really how i sound… ❞

❝ people think i write horror, but i don’t really think that’s true. i just write fiction with all of the comfortable little lies taken out of it. ❞

❝ i have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night. ❞

❝ i think he felt something about this place… some influence or power that needed to be destroyed, so he tried to do it the only way he knew how. ❞

❝ well, it’s a tricky thing. the more realistic you make them, the more… unreal they start to look. i think it’s something about the eyes. ❞

❝ i offered to stay late, just to smooth things over. ❞

❝ maybe i can get some writing done while i’m stuck here… ❞

❝ no child could grow up in a jewish home surrounded by books and not read at least one story about golems. ❞

❝ i just wasn’t a good student, despite my love of reading. ❞

❝ i have to say, i like your jane doe. ❞

❝ she was a scientist herself. maybe not formally, but her way of thinking, her insight, her methods... they were scientist’s qualities. ❞

❝ seriously, what do i need to do to get a little privacy around here, a little dignity? hang a ‘ do not disturb ’ sign on the door? change all my locks? ❞

❝ maybe it was stupid, but i figured, ‘ hey, early december, not a cloud in the sky—should still be fine, right? ’ ❞

❝ jesus, [name], i wasn’t born yesterday. ❞

❝ maybe doing this while it’s still dark outside isn’t the best idea. ❞

❝ more than a century and a half have passed, and this place is still just as dangerous as it was then. ❞

❝ now, [mr./ms./mx. name], i’m sure you know why you’re here. ❞

❝ the [event] was a bust—only about a dozen people showed up all afternoon. ❞

❝ i never put much stock in the idea of inspiration, but for the first time in my life, it felt like i wasn’t pushing myself through the muck of miscalculation and guesswork towards a solution. i was being pulled towards an answer that already existed. ❞

❝ it felt like i was a few steps from finding out something fundamental. some truth about our universe that no other scientist had ever dared to dream of. ❞

❝ huh. that’s… that’s weird. i could’ve sworn there wasn’t a sculpture back there before. ❞

❝ apparently, no one had told them what i was doing, and i wasn’t actually cleared to leave. ❞

❝ maybe he’s trying to make amends. keeping watch over these half-living things to make sure no harm comes to them. ❞

❝ i expected the building to be wreathed in shadow and overgrown with cobwebs, but it's actually really nice. ❞

❝ sorry, i was trying to get my recorder working, but it froze up on me so i had to find a tape for this old… ❞

❝ okay. just… don’t get me sacked, alright? can’t exactly retire on this salary. ❞

❝ but if it was real—i don’t know if i somehow created it, or if it was feeding me information about itself before it appeared. ❞

❝ i’ve never had a manic episode before, and i was well below the level of caffeine needed to cause intoxication. as far as i can tell, there isn’t a medical explanation for what happened. ❞

❝ i don’t get the appeal of meeting real celebrities. it’s just a cheap shock of recognition, and nothing more. ❞

❝ whatever this… thing was, it sounds pretty dangerous. ❞

❝ are you familiar with temporal asymmetry? ❞

❝ i just want to make that abundantly clear: this /wasn’t/ the plan. ❞

❝ right then, now let’s get started. please state your name and rank for the record. ❞

❝ though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light. ❞

❝ a cracker of a book, young lady. ❞

❝ no wonder they’re keeping them in storage. they’d give anyone nightmares. ❞

❝ i was just going to finish out my shift unless… you want me to stick around? ❞

❝ i went to the university, but don’t remember much of the years i spent there. ❞

❝ having to study textbooks and essays day in and day out took all of the joy out of reading for a long time. ❞

❝ we call paradoxes paradoxes for a reason: no matter how plausible they seem, they can never really happen. ❞

❝ i don’t know what happened to me that night. i still don’t even know if what i saw was real. ❞

❝ when we look into the void for too long, we find the monsters instead. ❞

#sentence starters #sentence meme #rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #rp meme #* sentences.#* meme.#sheridan #trying some minor new things w/ the formatting #especially for these longer #non numbered sentence memes

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agent-cupcake · 3 years

Text

Garreg Mach Café Episode Two: Lucky Seven (Yuri x Reader)

The first thing you learned about him —one of the very few things you knew about him— was that he liked sugar. A lot. You didn’t work the counter most of the time, you just made the drinks. So, you didn’t know who had ordered the heart attack inducing Ruined Sky Strawberry Frappe, only that someone was looking for a cavity. Vanilla bean coffee, three pumps of vanilla syrup, and strawberry puree with ice blended and topped with whipped cream, hazelnut drizzle, strawberry drizzle, and red sprinkles.

The second thing you learned about him was his name. Or, more accurately, his lack thereof. People regularly used dumb names. It didn’t really bug you, there was no shame in entertaining someone who thought making a barista call out a drink for Phun E. Monki was the peak of modern entertainment. Not so surprisingly, you saw a lot of hipster and nerd traffic through the café so references and jokes weren’t at all unheard of. Really, this one wasn��t even that bad. Comparatively.

“Ruined Sky Strawberry Frappe for Arsène Lupin,” you called, turning around.

“That’s mine,” the waiting customer responded. Shockingly, it was not the top-hat wearing gentleman thief who stood at the counter waiting for his drink. Neither was it the dweeb you expected. Your Arsène Lupin —that is, the man standing on the other side of the glistening lacquered wood countertop— certainly wasn’t normal, but not in the way you had initially assumed.

The third thing you learned about him was that he was disarmingly beautiful. He stood casually; his arms crossed with one of his hands resting lightly on his chin as he watched with a half-smile that you would have sworn had a mischievous glint. Waiting to see if the little joke got a reaction, you figured.

Well, who were you to deny him that? Pushing down the instinctual nerves of talking to someone who belonged more in the technicolor light of your two-past-midnight Instagram escapades rather than the academia chic café, you smiled back. “Here you go, Monsieur Lupin.”

That made his lips twitch in amusement, which shouldn’t have been as gratifying as it was. “Thanks,” Arsène said warmly, wrapping his fingers around the cup. It wasn’t like you were intentionally trying to notice, but his fingers were long and thin, the nails neat and manicured. Pretty hands. Attractive hands. You wondered if they were soft, or as strong as they looked, or what they might feel like-

Nope. No. You needed God.

Or Tinder

“I hope you enjoy,” you said, trying to act like you hadn’t just committed some obscene thought crime. He was supposed to leave after that. People got their drinks and either sat down or left. But he didn’t, meeting your eyes with an even gaze. Their violet coloring was striking, drawn out by the purple eyeshadow smoked out over his pale eyelids. The makeup should have been off-putting, you were less than uninterested in the pierced hoard of e-boys that had saturated the modern alternative dating market, but it wasn’t. Not on him, at least.

“This is a cute place,” Arsène said. But he wasn’t looking around the cafe, he was staring directly at you. Which… you weren’t sure if you were to buy into your ego telling you he was flirting or your paranoia that he was laughing at you. “Is it usually this busy?”

Flirting was better, for your sanity’s sake if nothing else, so you smiled, doing a quick check to make sure you weren’t missing any customers. The guy working the register was looking at his phone under the counter.

“You know, you shouldn’t pick such an obvious pseudonym when you’re canvassing a business,” you said playfully. “Charm will only get you so far.”

That made him laugh, his appraising eyes sparkling with amusement as he stabbed a straw past the whipped cream of his drink. “In my experience, charm will get you anywhere.”

“For you, maybe,” you allowed, feeling a little more emboldened by that response. Lowering your voice slightly, you leaned in as if to conspire. “I guess the real question is what you’re stealing, Monsieur Lupin, hearts or jewels?”

“Jewels, usually,” Arsène told you without missing a beat. “I have no need to steal the hearts.” He shrugged one shoulder carelessly, casually. “I collect enough of them as it is.”

A corny, over-confident line like that should have made you laugh. Unfortunately, you kind of believed it. So you raised a skeptical eyebrow. “That goes against the spirit of being a Phantom Thief, doesn’t it?”

“Why, do you want me to steal your heart?” Arsène asked. He didn’t sound serious, exactly, but neither was the question joking enough to keep a flush from crawling up your cheeks.

“Baristas don’t have hearts,” you told him theatrically, rejecting your silly reaction. “It’s a void of caffeine, student debt, and the disappointment of our parents.”

Arsène was about to respond when you heard the door jingle open. You turned, looking over your shoulder at the customers who had stepped up to the register. “It looks like you’re needed,” he said, following your eye line.

“Yeah,” you said, feeling a strange stab of disappointment. Which was dumb. A little bit of banter with a handsome stranger was nice, but it shouldn’t have been anything else.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back,” Arsène said, smirking in a way that made you think he’d seen your dismayed reaction. “Thanks for the drink.”

He raised the cup like a toast goodbye, and you wished him a good day. It was completely ridiculous, but that quick and strange interaction played on loop in your head for the rest of the day. You went from embarrassed, to amused, to insecure, and back again dozens of times. By the next day, you weren’t sure what to think about it and you hated to think that you were watching for him, but-

Well, you were.

The fourth thing you learned about him was that he had a schedule, a specific time slot that seemed to be allocated to getting an overly sugary drink at your little cafe.

“Noa Fruit and Caramel Macchiato for Mr Pink,” you called, already expecting to see his smile based on the name alone. Not that the preparation did a whole lot in lessening the effects. Today Arsène, or Mr Pink, wore a dark striped button up tucked into black pants. The top buttons were undone, showing off the elegant column of his neck and the framing lines of his collarbones. His skin was so pale, like it had never seen the sun, the color perfectly even and milky.

“That’s mine,” he said. Redundantly. Of course it was his.

To think that you’d done your makeup with more care than usual today was embarrassing, but you were glad for it as you passed the drink to him. “Reservoir Dogs, right?” you asked, forcing yourself to not be flustered.

“Very good,” he said in a voice that was borderline condescending.

“You thought I wouldn’t know? I serve coffee in downtown, knowing Tarantino is practically a job requirement,” you said. Arsène laughed warmly, a sound that was somewhere between amusement and mocking, a sound that invited a mess of fluttery nerves to dance around in your stomach which you covered with a smile. “Mr Pink, though… he’s a long way off from being a gentleman thief.”

“Let’s just say that I’ve fallen from grace,” Arsène said, his smile an odd combination of mirth and mystery. “Lupin is... more of an ideal. Reality is hardly ever so romantic.”

“Cheers to that,” you said wryly.

“Although if I had to emulate one of them, I’d far prefer it to be the gentleman,” he said, dropping a few dollars in your tip jar. Cheeky. “Thanks for the treat.”

“Oh… Yeah,” you said, not even thinking to point out that it was your job. Unless he wasn’t talking about the coffee, which was even more baffling. “Have a nice day.”

After that came a lineup of sugary drink orders under the names of famous thieves. Some references you knew immediately, others you had to google later. And always, always, he just about made your heart stop with that smile.

It was… Maybe a week later? Your Arsène had become something like an expectation. Which was ridiculous. And stupid. But it was true, and he hadn’t been in the day before which affected you far more than you dared admit. Seeing the familiar purple head in the lineup of waiting customers was more relieving than it should have been.

A Vanilla Wyvern Wing Latte for Danny Ocean, this time. Unfortunately, there was a swath of customer’s orders that needed filling so you couldn’t give it to him personally, sliding it across the counter before rushing back to the blender. That kind of disappointed you, especially since you hadn’t seen him the day before, until you realized that he had taken a seat along the bar, writing something in a notebook and sipping on the creamy white latte.

Waiting for you? Pushing down the spark of excitement you felt about that, you finished up the orders. After that, you took a breath, grabbing a rag to at least seem productive as you inched towards him.

“You’re awfully far from Vegas, Mr Ocean,” you said. Although you called him that, you still thought of him as Arsène Lupin. Your Arsène.

He looked up from his notebook, the end of his pen pushed against his lip in a distracting way. They were so pink. And shapely, his top lip curved by a perfectly symmetrical cupids bow that no amount of lip kits could falsify. And… And you were staring. Again. He obviously noticed, what with the way he grinned when you forced your eyes up to his, but he gracefully didn’t point it out.

“Casinos are nothing more than a party trick,” he told you lightly, flipping his pen through his fingers before letting it drop to the paper. “I’ve got my eye on something far more valuable.” His eyes were burning into yours as he spoke.

That was the fifth thing you learned about him. Arsène could make anything sound like a double entendre. You thought of yourself as being somewhat difficult to ruffle, but even the most innocuous of comments from him could make your cheeks warm. It was the tone of his smooth, lovely voice. Always speaking under his breath, or low enough that you found yourself leaning in.

“Jewels, right?” you asked, playing it cool because you refused to fall prey to what you knew was a purposeful attempt to throw you off balance. “I heard there was an exhibit coming to town.”

“I’m not really interested in that sort of thing,” Arsène said with a little wave of his elegant hand. “You know the reprehensible means they use to get them, don’t you? So beautiful... but stained with blood. Not too dissimilar from myself, I suppose.”

That momentarily tripped you up. He sounded so genuine, even with the little quip of a joke. Most people couldn’t pull off saying something so nakedly edgy. Maybe it only worked because he was pretty, and you were a fool. So you just smiled. “You really ought to work on this whole subterfuge thing.”

Arsène’s eyes met yours. So intense. “And how would you recommend I do that?”

“Misdirection,” you told him, refocusing on wiping up the counter to avoid his gaze. “The names are bad enough. You’ve gotta at least pretend to be an upstanding member of society, right?”

“Do you think I’m not?” he asked lightly, his head falling to the side, hand braced against his cheek casually. “And here I thought I was perfectly amicable.”

“Oh,” you said. Did he sound offended? You quickly backtracked. “I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t think you are, it’s just that what you said-”

“I’m kidding,” Arsène said, the slightly concerned expression slipping from his face like an easily discarded mask.

You winced, internally kicking yourself. “Ah, sorry.”

“Don’t worry. That was cute,” Arsène said with that oddly infuriating unreadable grin and shutting his notebook to stand up.

“You’re leaving?” you asked, almost confused that he’d wait only to cut the conversation short.

“Haven’t you realized? I’m a wanted man. As much as I’d love to stay and chat, I’ve got things to do,” he said. “Speaking of that, I hope you didn’t miss me too much yesterday. This project is more difficult than I anticipated.”

“That’s fine, it’s not like I expect you to come by,” you said. You lied.

“No?” Arsène asked. He didn’t believe you, that much was obvious. “Fine, then. I’m not afraid to admit that I missed you. I’ll definitely see you tomorrow, though.”

“Can’t wait,” you said. And, despite the half-sarcastic affect you tried to put on, you meant it.

It only settled after he’d already left what he really had said. Missed you. Not for the first time, you toyed with the idea of giving him your number. Then again, maybe you were misreading the situation. After all, you didn’t even know his name.

Still, true to his word, he came around the same time the next day.

This time, it was a Cinnamon Dust Frappe for Garrett. Arsène, or Garrett, was wearing a sweater today in a nod to the rainy weather. Just like everything else he wore, it was entirely in service of his allure, a dark knit with leather elbow patches. White clips kept a section of his hair out of his face, which was curling at the ends. From the humidity? Or perhaps he usually straightened it?

“It took me a minute,” you admitted as you handed him his drink, “Garrett. That’s Thief, right? I have to be honest; you don’t really strike me as the gamer type.”

“I’m full of surprises,” he responded. After a moment, he added, “I haven’t got much time for games these days, but I have some fond memories from when I was a kid.”

“Probably why you’re a criminal,” you said.

If you weren’t mistaken, his eyes widened for a fraction of a second in something like surprise before that was composed into something else, his laughter driving it away. “You might be on to something with that. Video games do make kids violent, after all.”

“So, tomorrow, will it be Ezio? Or Corvo… He’s got a bit of thievery under his belt.”

Arsène scoffed. “I’d never do the same trick twice.”

That made you smile. “I look forward to it.”

After he left, you realized that you’d learned the sixth thing about him. It was such a small and mundane detail, but there was something charming and oddly intimate to imagine Arsène as a kid playing video games.

The next day, you were working register while helping to train the newbie in making drinks. It was cold. Slushy snow half-heartedly sprinkled down outside, and the heater was desperately trying, and failing, to keep the cafe warm. The repairman wouldn’t come until the following morning. All in all, your mood was rather poor.

Until the door opened and a familiar face stepped up to the counter.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up here,” Arsène said.

“Desperate times,” you said with a shrug. He smiled at that, looking up at the menu contemplatively.

“I’ll have…” he said, “a Mockingbird Mocha Hot Chocolate. Medium.”

“And who might you be today?” you asked professionally, the Sharpie point poised over the side of the cardboard hot drinks cup.

“Prometheus,” he said without hesitation.

You blinked, caught off guard for a second as you tried to figure out the reference. That was… clever. The original thief. You couldn’t help but shake your head in amusement as you scribbled that on the side of the cup. The newbie already knew how to make the drink, leaving you with nothing to do. The cafe was quiet today, a rarity. It was the poor weather. People dropped in to get hot drinks, but you didn’t blame them for not sticking around. Arsène was dressed for the cold, wearing a white cape coat that was either incredibly trendy or strangely fringe. Of course, it worked perfectly on him. He looked ready to hop into a new age fashion catalog for outerwear.

“From gentleman thief to a gangster to god… Moving up in the world, are we?” you asked to fill the silence.

“On the contrary,” Arsène told you “There’s no power in being a god nobody believes in.”

“I’d definitely believe in you if you could warm it up in here,” you told him. “I’ve been freezing all day.”

“I’m sure I could think of a few ways to warm you up,” Arsène said, smirking, his eyes dancing with mischievous amusement. “After all, I’m the one who stole the first flame.”

A shaky exhale left your mouth, becoming something like an awkward laugh because he definitely had you going for a second and you knew it was on purpose but still. “That’s what you meant. Right.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What did you think I was talking about?”

“Here you go,” the newbie said with absolutely perfect timing, handing Arsène his drink. At least your blush was keeping you warm.

“Thank you,” Arsène said, meeting her eyes. You were pretty sure you saw her swoon, which made sense. That was the most practical response to him, after all. He looked back to you. “Try to keep warm, I’d hate for you to be calling in sick.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you said. He grinned, wishing the both of you a good day. And you did warm up. By thinking of all the ways he could keep you warm. At this point, even God Himself probably couldn’t do much about your sinful thoughts.

The next day was another cold one, meaning that it was slow. Because of that, your boss had decided that only one person was needed, and you didn’t mind if that was you. Paid hours were always welcome. More than that, and you hated yourself for it, you hoped to see your Arsène. You’d been scrolling on your phone under the register when the door opened. Winter rushed in like it had been chomping at the bit for the chance, called forth with the jingling of bells. Arsène had arrived right on time, wearing that white cloak coat and tall white heeled boots. Snowflakes shined in his hair, quick to melt in the warmth of the repaired heater. By now, you should have been immune. But you weren’t.

“Alone today?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Eerie, isn’t it?” you replied, gesturing to the empty cafe. “Not that I mind, now that the heater is fixed… What will you be having today?”

“A medium Caramel Leclair Latte,” he said.

“And your name…?”

“Yuri,” he said, which you scribbled onto the cardboard.

“All right… Just gimme a second,” you said. The drink was oddly tame for him, and a lot easier to make. You were pretty sure you could whip up a latte in your sleep. He waited without saying anything, but you could feel him watching. The music was too quiet to be a distraction and you were incredibly aware that it was just the two of you which was stupid because the counter practically put you in a different realm of reality, but-

You forced your thoughts to focus on something else, considering the name he’d given you. It was oddly unassuming, at least by the standards of other names he’d given you. You couldn’t recognize it as anything in particular, either. It was Russian. Or Japanese. It being the name of a Russian thief probably made the most sense contextually, but you were drawing a blank as to the specific reference.

“I can’t figure it out,” you admitted when you finished the drink and set it on the counter between you, “who are you impersonating today?”

Arsène blinked, a second of confusion passing before his lips quirked up just a bit. “Myself, actually. I figured it was time to give you my name. You can call me Yuri. Yuri Leclerc, to be precise.”

That was the seventh thing you learned about him. Your stomach clenched. Out of nerves or excitement or happiness, you couldn’t tell. You smiled, feeling something giddy fuzz in your head. “Well... It... It’s good to meet you, Yuri Leclerc.” Yes, you liked that name. It was better than all the others, even better than Arsène.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Yuri replied smoothly.

“So… Is there a reason for this momentous revelation?” you asked.

Some of the mirth drained from his eyes as he slid two of the little coffee straws into the lid. “I’m leaving town.”

The disappointment that struck you was beyond silly, it wasn’t like you had any claim to him. You’d only just learned his name for God’s sake. “Did the police finally catch up with you?” you asked with a smile, trying to be playful.

“Not yet,” Yuri said. “I prefer to leave before they catch wise.”

“I can never tell if you’re joking or not,” you told him, shaking your head. Sure, he was smiling, but, well, he smiled a lot. It was always unreadable. Amusement at something. Life itself, maybe.

“For your own sake,” Yuri said, his eyes fixing on yours, “you should always assume I am.”

Because that really cleared it up. You decided not to worry about it too much. “But you are leaving, that’s not pretend?”

“Yeah.”

Your heart sank all over again. Stupid, stupid. At least you finally knew his name.

That made for seven things you knew about him. That was enough, wasn’t it? Lucky sevens and all that? Without thinking too hard about it, you grabbed one of the embossed café cards and a pen, scribbling your name and phone number on the back. “If you’re ever back in town or whatever, this is me,” you told him, handing it over. “Or I dunno, I get vacation time. Maybe it’d be fun to take a trip to Almyra or Albinea or wherever gentleman thieves go until the heat dies down.”

Yuri looked at the card for a long moment before tucking it into his wallet, smiling. You felt like you could read this smile, it was warm and friendly. More real than his others, the emotion catching in his eyes, too. “I wonder, do you mean that?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I might.”

“Then I do,” you said with a shrug, like it was easy as that and unsure exactly how much of what you said was strictly playful. It didn’t really matter because it made Yuri smile all over again and the look was fond enough to make your heart seize.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “Until then, do you by any chance watch the news?”

“The news?” you asked, confused by the shift in topic. “Not if I can help it.”

“Well, you should, at least for a few days.”

“Am I gonna turn it on and see your mugshot slapped all over some headline about a bank robbery or something?” you asked, mostly joking. Mostly.

“What would have ever given you the impression that I’d do something like that?” he asked, feigning a tone of offense.

“Steal something?” you asked.

“Get caught,” he corrected.

You laughed, thinking of something clever to respond with. Unfortunately, the door opened to admit a trio of bundled up students, killing the moment before you spoke.

“That’s my cue,” Yuri said, picking up his coffee. “Don’t miss me too much until we meet again, yeah?”

“Only as long as you promise not to forget me,” you told him.

“It’s a deal, then.”

“Goodbye, Yuri.”

“Goodbye,” he echoed, his eyes meeting yours and voice gentle. Intimate, almost. Then he was gone, a flash of violet and white disappearing into the winter cold.

It was silly, but you kept an eye on the news like he told you, curious to know if anything would come of it or if you’d just fallen for a cute guy’s ruse. But, no, something did happen. A huge theft. The jewel exhibit that had been about to roll out downtown had been robbed. Such a feat was meant to be impossible, there was seemingly no way it could have been done. But it had and there were no suspects, no public leads. And, not surprisingly, no mugshots.

#fire emblem three houses #fe3h #yuri leclerc #yuris leclair #fe yuri #yuri leclerc x reader #yuris leclair x reader #fe yuri x reader #YOU'VE BEEN HIT BY #YOU'VE BEEN STRUCK BY #ive had this idea in my head for so long #admittedly i'm not sure it turned out the way i wanted but i can't tell why #iS thIs a pERsoNa rEFeRenCe? yes

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btsqualityy · 4 years

Text

Heaven Sent; Part 2

Jin x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings: None to note.

A month in and the grieving process hadn’t gotten any better for you. In fact, it seemed to get worse. You were barely eating, barely showering, and barely taking care of the house. The only thing that was keeping you going was the reminder that Aera needed you, and that was only barely helping.

Your family and friends had been doing their best to try and be there for you, but you had begun to isolate yourself from them. You didn’t mean to, it was just easier to do that than to have people pitying you and trying to tell you how you should grieve, especially since you still had a daughter to take care of.

The fact that you didn’t want to be around anyone didn’t stop your parents from checking up on you almost daily though, which is why your head instantly began to hurt when you heard a knock at your front door.

“Y/N-ah,” you heard your mother Chae-won shout. “We know you’re in there!”

“We just wanted to check on you,” your father Ji-tae call out. Sighing heavily, you pulled yourself up from the couch and walked over to the door, grasping the handle and yanking the door open.

“There? You happy?” You snapped, not waiting for them to reply before you were turning around and heading back to the couch.

“No, we’re not happy,” Chae-won sighed as she walked into the house, your father following behind her and shutting the front door. “Why aren’t you answering our calls?”

“I’m grieving,” you replied simply, flopping down on the couch.

“Where’s Aera?” Ji-tae wondered.

“Aera!” You shouted out, fast little footsteps accompanying your words as Aera bolted into the living room.

“Papa, Nana!” Aera squealed, rushing over to your father who swooped her up into his arms and pressed multiple kisses to her little cheeks.

“God Y/N, you look like you haven’t eaten in days,” your mother whispered as she sat down on the edge of the couch next to you. “Maybe even weeks.”

“Haven’t been hungry,” you shrugged.

“And Aera?” She wondered and you whipped your head to the side, your glare hard and intimidating.

“What kind of mother do you think I am?” You demanded to know. “Does she look like she’s lost weight to you?”

“No,” your mother shook her head. “You’re just so deep in this depression, I couldn’t be sure.”

“I may be falling apart at the seams because I lost the love of my life, but my daughter is still my whole life and I’d appreciate it if you could remember that,” you snipped and your mother nodded her head immediately.

“Ji, why don’t you take Aera in her room to go play while I talk to Y/N-ah?” Chae-won said and your father nodded.

“Why don’t you show me some of your toys?” Ji-tae suggested and Aera’s eyes widened excitedly.

“Ok! We can have a tea party with my dolls!” She exclaimed happily, making your father chuckle as he carried her out of the living room and down the hall to her bedroom. Once your mother heard the click of Aera’s bedroom door shutting, she instantly reached out, setting her palm on your cheek gently.

“My baby,” she whispered. “It’s breaking our hearts to see you like this, you know?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say Mom,” you murmured.

“I don’t want you to say anything,” she told you gently. “I just wish you’d let us help you.”

“Why, so I can be pitied every time that you and Daddy look at me?” You scoffed lightly.

“We don’t pity you, but we are sad for you.”

“What’s the difference?” You shot back. “I just....I need to work through this by myself.”

“But-”

“It’s not going to help me to have you and Daddy, or anyone else for that matter, breathing down my damn back,” you muttered through grit teeth, trying to contain your annoyance that would surely give way to anger if you let it. “Give me my space to deal with it how I see fit.”

“Ok honey, ok,” your mother relented. “At least answer the phone when we call so that we can know that you’re alright?”

“Fine,” you nodded.

“How about if your father and I take Aera out for some ice cream?” Chae-won suggested. “It’ll be fun for her.”

“Yeah, alright,” you agreed easily.

“And I’ll stop by the store and grab you some groceries while we’re out,” she added, and you turned to look at her with a raised brow. “Don’t even bother lying to me. I know you’re running low by now and I doubt you’ve been to the store.”

“Mom, you don’t have to do that,” you sighed. “I’ll go while you guys have Aera.”

“You sure?” Chae-won checked. “Don’t feel like you need to push yourself.” You almost laughed then, because that’s exactly what you were doing. The last thing that you wanted to do was go out to the store, to face people; but you also didn’t want to be a burden to your parents, which you already felt like given the fact that you had caused them to worry about you so much.

“It’s fine, I got it,” you nodded, putting on a fake smile in order to help reassure her.

“Ok, suit yourself.”

......................................

That’s how you found yourself wandering the aisles at the nearest supermarket, taking a quick glance at the list your mom had made for you. You didn’t have the attention span or patience necessary to take stock of your fridge and assess what you needed but your mom was kind of enough to do it for you, handing the list off to you before walking out of the door with your father and Aera.

As you moved towards the section of kimchi, you took a few seconds to glance over the multiple brands available. You couldn't help but to chuckle to yourself, knowing that if Hae-il were with you, he’d scold you for even looking at the store bought kimchi. “The best kimchi is always homemade”, you remembered him telling you several different times throughout the years. It was funny how grief worked, because you never expected to be tearing up in the middle of aisle 4 over kimchi.

“Y/N?” You heard someone call and you turned your head to the right, seeing Seokjin standing there. Your eyes widened, reaching up and wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of the hoodie that you were wearing.

“Jin, hi,” you chuckled awkwardly. “What are you doing here? I figured you would’ve been back in Japan by now.”

“I uh, I actually just moved back last week,” he revealed, making your eyes widen slightly in surprise.

“Really?”

“Yeah. With everything that’s happened,” he motioned with his hand and you knew that he was talking about Hae-il. “I realized that I missed home and life is kind of short to be stuck in Japan with none of my loved ones around.”

“I get it,” you nodded in understanding.

“How are you doing?” He wondered and you squared your shoulders, preparing yourself to tell the lie that you always did whenever people had asked you that question over the last month.

“I’m doing ok,” you told him and it looked like he wanted to challenge that, if the raise of his eyebrows said anything, but he didn’t. A few seconds of awkward silence passed between the two of you then, before he suddenly spoke up again.

“It was the kimchi, wasn’t it?” Jin asked and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What?”

“Before I called your name, you were crying,” he said softly and you immediately began to shake your head.

“I wasn’t.”

“It’s ok, I’m not judging you,” he replied gently before a small smile came across his face. “You were thinking about Hae-il and his crazy agenda against store bought kimchi, weren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed breathlessly. “You knew about that?”

“Knew about it? Where do you think it originated?” Jin laughed. “When we were in college, there really wasn’t space to make kimchi the old fashioned way so we had to buy the store kimchi and Hae absolutely hated it. It got to a point where he stopped eating kimchi for almost the entirety of our college career, except for when we went home for holidays.”

“That sounds like Hae,” you giggled. “Over-dramatic as all hell.”

“Ridiculous,” Jin chuckled. Another silence fell over the two of you, but it wasn’t as awkward as before.

“Well, I should finish this shopping so that I can get back home before my parents bring Aera home,” you said.

“Alright. Tell Little Heart that I said hi?”

“Sure,” you nodded, moving to turn away.

“Y/N?” Jin called and you turned back to him again. “If you ever need anything, anything at all, you can call me.”

“Jin,-” you started to say but he shook his head.

“Don’t feel pressured or anything,” he assured you. “I’m not forcing you. I just wanted you to know that I’m here if needed.”

“Ok,” you replied softly. “I don’t have your number though.”

“Oh! Just a second,” he murmured, reaching inside of his suit jacket and pulling out a business card. “That has both my office number and my personal cellphone number. Feel free to use either.”

“Thank you,” you whispered and Jin shrugged dismissively.

“No problem. Have a good night Y/N,” he smiled.

“You too,” you responded, sliding his business card into your pocket before turning around and walking away.

......................................

After getting home and getting Aera from your parents, you managed to get the groceries unpacked and put into their proper places throughout the kitchen. However, you noticed that it was getting late and that you needed to start fixing dinner.

The problem was though, that you just couldn’t find the energy to actually cook anything. You knew that you should (given the fact that you had ordered way too much take out over the past month) but between dealing with your parents and making an unwanted trip to the grocery store, you just didn’t have the energy to do anything extra.

Just as you moved to grab your phone off of the kitchen counter, there was a knock on your front door. Furrowing your brows in confusion, you walked out of the kitchen and through the hall, stepping up to the door and pulling it open.

“Jin?” You greeted him, confusion laced through your tone. Jin was standing on your front step, a large Tupperware box in his hands as he fidgeted nervously. “What are you doing here?”

“I know this probably seems really weird,” he started and you cut him off by nodding your head rapidly.

“Extremely,” you agreed. “Did you follow me home?”

“No, of course not,” he shook his head insistently. “I couldn’t remember where the hell you even lived. It took me 20 minutes to find an area that looked even vaguely familiar and I knocked on this old lady’s door by mistake and I still think she might come after me to kill me because I think I woke up her husband or something.”

“Jin?” You interrupted him, making him stop talking. “You’re rambling.”

“Right,” he chuckled nervously. “Well, when I saw you in the store earlier, you looked exhausted. No offense.”

“None taken,” you shrugged, leaning against the doorway and crossing your arms over your chest.

“I went home and made dinner but I always make too much because I like to cook but it’s only me at my apartment so I figured that you and Aera might like some,” he summed up.

“Jin, you didn’t have to go through the trouble,” you sighed heavily.

“It was no trouble at all,” he assured you. “I make way too much, remember?”

“What is it?” You wondered.

“Some samgyeopsal and japchae,” he said as he extended the Tupperware towards you, and you straightened up as you took it from him.

“Aera’s favorites,” you smiled lightly. “That’s a coincidence.”

“It really is,” he laughed. Just then, you felt tiny hands pushing your leg to the side and when you looked down, you saw Aera pushing her way into the doorway as well.

“Hi uncle Jin!” She cheered and Jin grinned widely as he bent down and held his arms out, Aera falling into them immediately.

“Hi little heart,” he cooed, taking a second to press a quick kiss to the side of her head before pulling away from her. “How are you?”

“Good! I had ice cream today with my Papa and Nana!”

“Did you get our favorite?”

“Yep, strawberry!” She nodded and Jin chuckled. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, I just brought you and your mommy some food,” he shrugged. “Some samgyeopsal and japchae.”

“That’s my favorites!” She chirped excitedly, making you laugh at her.

“I know little heart,” he nodded.

“What do you say to uncle Jin love?” You reminded her gently.

“Thank you!” She told him, leaning forward and kissing his cheek.

“No problem,” he replied before standing up straight again. “Well, I should get going.”

“You don’t want to stay for dinner or anything, do you?” You offered, remembering your manners and he smiled while shaking his head.

“No, I’m fine. I just wanted to help you out,” he responded. “See you later.”

“Bye,” you said.

“Bye uncle Jin!” Aera waved her hand wildly, making you smile as you turned around and guided her back inside of the house, shutting the door behind you.

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spine-buster · 4 years

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 29

A/N: There’s somewhat of a double update this week 🙊You’ll understand why at the end of the chapter 🙊

May 26th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was frantic.

The NHL had announced their Return to Play plan. Toronto was the chosen hub city for the eastern conference, naturally. They were Toronto. She’d be back at work.

None of that mattered.

William was back in Toronto.

But he was in quarantine. The government had instituted the policy and he was going to stick to it, obviously. And so was she, especially since he traveled from Florida, even though it was going to be hard. It meant that he was in Toronto, and Aberdeen knew he was in Toronto, but she was unable to see him. They’d have to communicate the same way as they did when he was in Tampa Bay, still, even though he was only a ten-minute walk away from her.

It killed her. It hurt worse than when he was in Tampa.

“The plan is already set,” he explained to her on the phone. “After the fourteen days I get to go back onto the ice. I think a few of the guys who stayed in Toronto will be there too. No more than five, though.”

“Yeah. Those are the rules.”

“Will you be there with Brendan?”

Aberdeen hadn’t even thought about it. She and Brendan had obviously kept in touch throughout quarantine, but he hadn’t mentioned needing her at Scotiabank Arena should any of the guys go in for a skate. “I don’t know, actually,” she admitted. “I’d have to ask.”

“Please ask,” he said quickly, causing Aberdeen to laugh. “If you’re there that day, when I’m back on the ice, I…Aberdeen, please just ask.”

“I will.”

***

May 29th, 2020

“Do you need me in that day, by the way?” Aberdeen asked Brendan on the phone, super-casually but also super-connivingly near the end of their call.

“Which day?”

“Any of the days, really,” she said, trying to sound even more casual than before. They’d gone through all the players, their whereabouts, and all the dates they would be available to go skate at the arena. “The seventh, the ninth – any of them.”

“Well…it’ll be nice to see your smiling face,” he said, and she knew by his tone he was looking down at his calendar. “How about you come in on just one of the days. You choose which one.”

“I’ll come on the ninth, the Tuesday,” she chose quickly. “Sunday is a day of worship, Brendan. You should know better.”

Brendan laughed on the other end. “It’ll be good to see you again, Aberdeen. Bring some of that humour with you. We’re gonna need it.”

***

June 3rd, 2020

“Six more days, minskatt.”

“Not that we’re counting.”

“When I get my hands on you…”

“Not if I get my hands on you first.”

***

June 7th, 2020

“Forty-eight hours.”

“It’s been sixty-one days, you know.”

“Sixty-one days?! Fuuuuuuck, Aberdeen.”

“You haven’t been buried in my pussy for sixty-one days, Willy.”

“Aberdeen—”

“My pussy’s so wet for you Willy.”

“You’ve gotta stop teasing me.”

***

June 9th, 2020

“A blazer, Aberdeen?” Brendan asked as he watched her walk into the office, a giddy smile on his face – not that anyone saw. Everyone was wearing a mask, and he was no exception. He wore a Leafs branded one, naturally. He had a bunch to give to Aberdeen, too – one for every day of the week. She walked into the office wearing a plain black mask. Typical of her.

“I needed to feel professional,” she said. “I’ve been in my condo in sweaters and tights for three months. Give me this moment.”

“Fine. Have it,” he smiled. “Set your stuff down and come with me. We’re going down to the ice.”

Aberdeen felt shivers running up and down her spine, and it wasn’t because of the ice. They made their way down to the locker room first, actually, where they saw Kyle on the way. She and him caught up quickly, with her asking about Leo and with Kyle asking about her writing. But then, like pure magic, and completely unannounced, there he was, in his hockey pants and socks. She swore her heart stopped beating. Sixty-one days.

William stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her. He was wearing a mask, so she could only see his eyes. “Aberdeen,” he said, nodding at her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said. “Long time no see. How was Tampa?” she asked.

Only she could see the indignant look he was giving her with his eyes. It was a look he only saved for her when she was being ridiculous – in any way she could be ridiculous – so Brendan and Kyle were none the wiser, though she was sure if they really looked, they’d probably see it too. “It was good. Nice spending time with the siblings, you know. Were you okay here?”

She nodded. “Yeah, everything was fine on my end. Just stayed holed up in the condo, really. Kasha was working a lot from home so it was mostly just me writing and keeping quiet so she could still earn a living.”

“Well that’s good that she didn’t get laid off or anything,” he commented. “And your family? They’re okay?”

“They’re fine. Siena’s back at my parents’ place and finished off the school year. Camden is too, though school in general is a bit of a shit show right now.”

“Is that Aberdeen?!” a voice suddenly called out from inside the locker room. Before their dumb conversation could continue with Brendan and Kyle watching, she saw a maskless Zach Hyman in his full gear barreling towards her. “Aberdeen!” he extended his arms for a hug.

“No no no!” Kyle and Brendan screamed at the same time, putting their arms up like a forcefield around Aberdeen. “No hugging! Social distancing!”

Zach’s brows were furrowed before he finally remembered, rolling his eyes at himself. “Sorry. I’m so dumb. I completely forgot. I’m just excited to see you!”

“Me too, Zach,” she smiled, wishing he could see it. She hoped he at least saw her eyes crinkle from it. “It’s nice to be back, isn’t it?”

“You’re telling me,” he said. She didn’t even have to see his face to see he was smiling from ear to ear. He lived for hockey. “You coming out onto the ice with us?”

“If I’m allowed,” Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders, looking to Brendan and Kyle who were nodding their heads. “Might sit on the bench and pretend I’m Sheldon for a bit.”

***

did u tell kasha ur working late?

Yup

come over right when brendan lets u leave i can’t wait anymore

me neither

i got a boner just seeing u today in your work clothes

LOL WILL

minskatt im 100% serious this isnt funny

I’m actually dying Willy Thank god you were wearing your hockey pants We’ve waited over six weeks, you can’t wait longer?

NO I CAN’T MINSKATT

***

There were butterflies in Aberdeen’s stomach as she made her way into William’s condo building, into the elevator, and through the hallways. Still in her work clothes, she knocked frantically on his front door.

She didn’t have to wait long.

She didn’t even get the third knock in before he swung the door open, obviously waiting for her, grabbing her arm and pulling her in. She dropped her bag as he pulled her into him and immediately planted his lips on hers aggressively. Hands and lips and tongues happened all at once, and they were everywhere, and when the front door shut behind them William pushed Aberdeen up against it, lifting her up in his arms with her wrapping her legs around him. Aberdeen wrapped her arms around his shoulders and began running her fingers through his hair. It had gotten so long. So long. She’d seen the progression of the length on their FaceTime calls, but it was different seeing it in person. Sixty-one days. Sixty-one days since she’d seen him and she barely took in the sight of him when he opened the door.

“God I fucking missed you,” he mumbled quickly as his kisses moved from her lips to her neck.

“Let me see you,” she mumbled, stopping her hands from running through his hair to place them on either side of his face. She pulled his face away from her neck so she could look at him, really look at him. His eyes were as blue as ever, glossed over with love and lust and everything in between. His hair was as blonde as ever, long and luscious and every girl’s dream, really. A light stubble covered his face, and the stupidest mustache sat atop his lip, but because he was William, she couldn’t say a bad thing about it. It looked ridiculous, but she loved everything about it. His lips were pink and puffy and wet as she ran her thumb across them ever so gently. He was here. He was actually here. “Hi,” she said softly, their chests still heaving from the hot and heavy start.

“Hi minskatt,” he whispered back equally as softly, pursing his lips slightly as if to kiss her thumb.

“You’re here,” she smiled. “You’re finally here.”

“I never want to spend that much time apart again,” he said. “I can’t stand being away from you.”

“Me neither.”

“It was torture,” he continued. “All I thought about was you. How much I love you. How much I wanted to hold you in my arms like I’m doing now.”

Aberdeen smiled again, biting down on her bottom lip slightly. “Show me,” she said. “Show me how much you love me.”

He planted his lips on hers again, just as frantic and fiercely as the last time, continuing where he left off. Aberdeen began shimmying out of her blazer, letting it fall to the floor as he adjusted her in his arms and carried her through the apartment, setting her down finally on his couch. Hovering over her now, with her legs still wrapped around him, Aberdeen tugged at his hoodie. “Take this off,” she mumbled, pulling it over his shoulders and throwing it behind them.

Reluctantly, William’s lips left Aberdeen’s as he pulled back and started unzipping her pants. “Willy,” her chest heaved up and down. He was working quickly. He ignored his name as he pulled her pants off. When they were off, he hooked his fingers into her underwear and pulled them off too. “Willy—”

William was a man possessed. There was nothing Aberdeen could say – instead, she watched as he gave her one final look with his blue eyes before he dove into her pussy. She bucked her hips almost automatically but William brought his arm up to hold her down. “Ooooooh fuck, Willy,” she sighed out.

“I missed this,” he mumbled, humming against her lips as he lapped and sucked, making her squirm underneath his arm. “You taste so good for me.”

“I missed this too. I missed your mouth on my pussy,” she strained to get out, trying to savour the feeling as much as possible since she hadn’t felt it in sixty-one days. When he looked up at her from in between her legs, she smiled. “You look so good between my thighs, baby,” she cooed, running her fingers through his hair and gripping it slightly.

He hummed again, sending shivers down her spine. “When you touched yourself was it like this?” he asked.

“No,” she responded automatically, because nothing was the same as having William’s lips and tongued glued to her pussy. “Nothing is as good as this, Willy. Nothing.”

“Can I put my fingers in your pussy?”

She nodded furiously. “Please Willy.”

He pushed two fingers in slowly as he sucked on her clit, making her squirm even more so than before. “Oooooh, Willy,” she moaned. He curled his fingers inside of her like he always did and she gasped. “Willy—Willy—”

“Feel good?”

“Feels fucking amazing,” she said. “Willy, I—I—”

“What do you want, Aberdeen?”

“I want to suck your cock, Willy,” she admitted. “I want to suck your cock so bad.”

He chuckled, and she could feel it, and his eyes narrowed as he could practically feel the shivers run through her body. “Not yet. Not until you come on my face.”

Aberdeen gulped. “But Willy—”

“No. Not until you come on my face, baby.”

“Willyyyy—” she begged, until she felt his fingers curl inside of her again. “Oh fuck, Willy, fuck – please,” she huffed.

“Let me taste you, Aberdeen. I need to taste you.”

As he continued his lapping, Aberdeen moaned and cried out at every opportunity, and when she began tugging on his hair and pulling his face even further against her wet pussy, he knew she was close. With a few more curls of his fingers and sucking on her clit, she cried out his name over and over again as she became a screaming, writhing mess on his couch. He lapped up every single last drop of her as he watched her chest heave up and down from the pleasure, from the pleasure he caused. When he was finally finished, placing butterfly kisses against her pussy and thighs, he made his way back up and gave her a hot, slobbered kiss.

She could taste herself on his lips, and she loved it, but what she wanted more was to taste him. So when his lips left hers, she made sure to look him in the eye. “Sit,” she said, putting her hands on his chest.

“Minskatt—” he said, placing a hand on hers.

“Sit,” she ordered more sternly, pushing him back so he’d listen to her command. He sat on the couch with his legs spread apart and watched as she climbed on top of him but made her way between his legs. She took off her top, leaving her just in her lace bra that she wore especially for him. Her hands went to the waistband of his sweatpants and she pulled them down, along with his boxers, as eagerly as ever. When his cock bounced up, already hard, she smiled up at him. “Mmmmm,” she hummed, running her fingernails up and down his thick thighs. “I’ve been dreaming about your cock in my mouth, Willy.”

“I’ve been dreaming abo—oh fuuuuuck,” he groaned as Aberdeen wasted no time in licking the underside of his cock from the base to the tip before covering the tip with her lips. “Aberdeen—”

William couldn’t finish his sentence – or thought, really – because Aberdeen took his cock in her mouth, swirling her tongue around expertly. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The amount of times he thought about this very thing while in Tampa…and now it was happening. He shuddered thinking about it, feeling it happening right now. “Your mouth feels incredible on my cock,” he managed to get out, looking down at her with hooded eyes.

“Pull my hair, Willy,” she said quickly, putting a quick kiss on the tip of his cock.

It was his turn to gulp. He ran his fingers through her hair – the hair he loved so much – and tugged on it slightly, pushing her back down onto his cock. She moaned in response. “That okay?”

She nodded even though his cock was halfway down her throat. She looked up at him again once she came back up – once he allowed her to. “Harder, Willy. It’s okay. I want your cock down my throat.”

“Ab—”

“It’s okay, Willy,” she dug her nails into his thighs. “I want it.”

A deep growl rose in his chest as he tugged on her hair again, pushing her mouth down his cock slowly. As he watched his cock disappear into her mouth, his pupils dilated. When she looked up at him with her beady eyes, he almost lost it. She began bobbing her head up and down his cock with his direction, the tugging of her hair and the slight force he was using making her wet all over again. Much like William, Aberdeen derived pleasure from knowing she was giving William that same pleasure, so seeing his chest heave, seeing him lean his head back in pleasure – it was all she wanted, everything she dreamed of for the past sixty-one days away from him.

“D’you want to come down my throat?” she asked, his cock slick and wet from her spit.

“No,” he said sternly. “Get…get up here.”

“Willy—”

He tugged her by the arm, bringing her back up so he could kiss her and pick her back up again as they made their way to his bedroom. He plopped her down to the bed, opening his bedside table drawer to get a condom. She stole it from him, ripping it open with her teeth and rolling it on herself before laying back down on the bed, unclasping her bra herself and throwing it across the room.

William bent down and took one of her nipples into her mouth, sucking gently as he grabbed at her hands. He raised them above her head, holding them both there with only one of his own. He saw her smile. “You like that, don’t you?” he asked, his own grin showing how he felt about it.

She nodded her head. “I want your cock so bad Willy. “Give me your cock. I need your cock.”

He slipped into her easily, quickly, her wet pussy still slick with her juices. They both moaned in pleasure, and once he was fully in her, they both took a moment to savour the feeling of being together again – physically, mentally, emotionally, everything – and looked each other in the eye. “God you feel so good,” he whispered, giving the tip of her nose a light kiss. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” she said, her voice breathless, the feeling of him filling her up almost too much to bear after not having experienced it for so long. “I love you so much, Willy.”

“I promise you,” he said. “I promise you I’ll never leave you for that long again. We’ll never be separated like that.”

She nodded her head. She understood. “I never want to be. I always want to be with you, Willy. Wherever you are, I’ll be.”

He began moving in and out of her, slowly, trying to make the feeling last as long as possible. But eventually, when Aberdeen began rolling her hips along with his movements, even though her arms and hands were still pinned above her head, he couldn’t control himself, moving quicker and crashing harder against her body. He watched as her eyes rolled to the back of her head, the moans escaping them freely and loudly.

At some point, William forgot about holding her arms above her head. At some point, they escaped free, and she dug her nails into his shoulder blades and scratched them down his back. At some point, after hearing her moans and cries and screams of his name for what felt like hours, he lost himself, and he lost control, and she lost herself, and she lost control, and they came together, bodies close, arms around each other, his head buried in the crook of her neck, hearts beating together.

***

“Did you mean what you said?” William asked as they lay in bed together, still recovering. He knew there was going to be a round two. And a round three. And however many more they saw fit until they were satisfied, although deep down he knew neither of them would ever be satisfied. But before all that, he needed to clear something up. He needed to hear it from her. “Wherever you are, I’ll be?”

Aberdeen looked over at him. She knew what he was asking, because he was in hockey. He could be shipped off somewhere tomorrow. He could be shipped off in the off-season. As she learned in May, and saw for herself, virtually half the fanbase wanted him gone (the dumb fanbase at least, she thought). But much like when he asked her if she would really come to Sweden with him, she knew there was a deeper meaning to this. There always was with William with questions like this; he was still learning to talk to her – to express his feelings like he promised he would after that game against Carolina. “Are you listening?” she asked, what they would always ask each other when they were about to say something important.

“Yes, minskatt.”

She looked him in the eye and nodded her head. “Of course I did.”

He tried not to show it, but he took a sharp intake of breath. She could see his Adam’s apple bob. She knew he was trying not to get emotional. But when he moved to kiss her, she could feel a tear.

***

June 13th, 2020

“I saw on the news that William is back!” Camden exclaimed into the phone. Aberdeen had to go so far as to jerk the phone away from her ear. From the other side of the couch, William giggled silently. “Did you get to see him, Aberdeen?!”

“I did,” she laughed. “He says hello.”

“Did he have a good time in Tampa?”

“I think so. I mean he was with his siblings,” Aberdeen laughed. “Aren’t you happy with me and Siena are home?”

“Sometimes.”

She snorted. “Anyways, have you finished the last of your work for school?” she asked. “Siena told me you forgot about a math assignment.”

“Oh my God, I forget about one assignment and I never hear the end of it!” he complained. William threw his head back in silent laughter. “You guys never let me hear the end of it!”

“But it’s math, Camden! Math is your favourite subject!”

“Don’t you guys remember I’m working at like, two grades above my level in math anyway?” he reminded her. “I’m already, like, gifted in math. You weren’t gifted.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Is Auston back yet?” he asked.

“I don’t know buddy. He’s still in Arizona. But I assume he’ll be coming back soon. I’m sure there’s ice rinks there he’s practicing on.”

“Is he staying safe?”

“I’m sure he is Camden. I’m sure he is.”

***

June 19th, 2020

@simmonssteve: POSTMEDIA EXCLUSIVE: Auston Matthews has tested positive for COVID-19. My breaking story: torontosun.com

***

Aberdeen thought she’d seen Brendan Shanahan angry on her interview day when he was demanding to his former personal assistant that the article written about his daughter be pulled from the Toronto Sun. She thought she saw Brendan Shanahan at his angriest when she entered his house while he was having a fight with his daughter and the subsequent day when he sent her on a wild goose chase throughout the city to find Niklas Lidstrom’s Swedish jersey.

Those were a walk in the park compared to how she saw him now, dealing with the leaked information that Auston tested positive for COVID-19.

She was sure he was ready to burn down his office, the floor, the entire building, the entire Scotiabank Arena. She knew he wanted to revoke the media access and credentials of the reporter, Steve Simmons, because he had so many strikes against him over the years (Aberdeen would have to research this when she got home), but that he would look like a vindictive and spiteful president if he did so. She knew he had been on the phone with Auston and his agent and his parents and Kyle and Brad and just about everyone else important within the organization to deal with it.

And all she was doing was sitting in a chair in his office with a mask on.

She felt her phone buzz in her hand, and when she looked at the screen she saw “Head Empty” on the screen followed by a message.

hows it going over there?

She took a quick look at Brendan and he was still barking into a phone. She unlocked her screen and began to type.

It’s a shit show. Have you heard from Auston?

yea mild symptoms but hes angry doesnt know how it leaked

Who could it have been?

no clue, honestly not like any of us would say something

“Aberdeen, Kyle is coming in,” Brendan said quickly. His voice was stern but softer than how he was speaking to whoever was on the phone. He had his hand over the receiver. “Can you go get us some coffee, please.”

She nodded and got up, making her way out of his office and to the Starbucks where she always went to get their regular orders. As she took the staircase down to the main floor, her phone began to ring loudly, echoing in the empty space. She stopped and looked down at her phone. Auston Matthews.

“Hello?” she asked, truly confused as to why he would be calling her.

“Hey,” he said casually. “How are you?”

“I’m…fine,” she replied, still confused. “Is everything okay?”

“Depends,” he said. “Can you be honest with me?”

She stiffened slightly. “I’m always honest with you.”

“I know. But can you be honest with me right now?”

“Yes, of course.”

He paused. “Do you know who leaked it?”

She closed her eyes. She let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding in. “No, I don’t. But trust me when I say we’re doing everything to find out. Kyle’s heading over right now and I can only imagine what he and Brendan are going to do to…I don’t know, mitigate this disaster.”

She could hear him sigh on the other end. “I hope whoever it was gets fired, honest to God.”

“I hope so too. Pretty sure Brendan wants to get Steve Simmons fired, too, for what it’s worth,” she said. There was a moment of silence between the two of them before her mouth began speaking quicker than her brain told her not to say anything. “You don’t think it was me, do you?”

“No, not at all,” he said. “We all trust you with anything and everything. We know if something ever got out, it would never be you.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked, genuinely curious. It was a feat in and of itself to have the utmost trust of absolutely everybody in the locker room.

“Because we know and understand that we all have our secrets, Aberdeen.”

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emospritelet · 3 years

Text

Heatstroke - chapter 17

I tweaked the prompt a little :)

[AO3]

Before leaving the city for small-town Maine, Lacey had told herself she wasn’t going to spend every night drinking until the early hours, as she had in New York. Since moving to Storybrooke she had mostly kept that promise to herself. During the week, anyway. Weekends were a different matter. Ruby usually had Friday nights off from the diner, but that inevitably meant that she worked on Saturdays, and while Lacey wasn’t bothered by going to the Rabbit Hole by herself, it was much more fun to have Ruby’s company while she slowly went out of her mind. Saturday evening found her at the bar in Granny’s Diner, drinking her way through a few tall glasses of ice-cold oblivion and telling Ruby about her latest unsuccessful encounter with Gold.

“So he wasn’t even dressed?” Ruby set a vodka and orange in front of her, leaning on the bar and resting her chin on her hands. “At that time in the morning? Not like Gold.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Lacey, stirring her drink with a straw. “It was weird, Rubes. I was all bracing for insults and sarcasm, and it was like he couldn’t even look at me.”

“You can’t tell me you wanted insults and sarcasm.”

“No,” she admitted. “But I think I’d choose that over being ignored.”

“Oh God…” Ruby shook her head. “Would you just ask him out already? Ask him to Zelena’s stupid dance.”

“I told you, he’s not going,” said Lacey impatiently. “And even if he was, it’s obvious he’s not interested. I mean it was obvious before, but now…”

“Maybe you just disturbed him doing something?”

“Like what?” Lacey stirred her drink moodily, and looked up. “Oh God, you don’t think he had someone there, do you?”

“Like a - a woman?”

“Maybe, I don’t know.” She took a drink, enjoying the tart taste of the orange juice and the smooth heat of the vodka in her throat. “I bet he did. I bet he had someone stay the night and I woke him up from a round of hot morning sex, good God!”

“Lacey.” Ruby leaned on the bar with a patient expression on her face. “Apart from you, the only person lusting after Gold in this town is Zelena. And he would never.”

“Okay,” Lacey nodded, feeling a little better. “That’s a fair point. But it could have been someone from out of town.”

“Maybe he’s sick,” suggested Ruby. “You could have pulled him out of his death bed.”

“Hey, that’s a point.” She perked up a little. “Yeah, maybe that’s why he was off with me. Great!”

“There you go.”

Lacey groaned, slumping on the bar with her chin pushed into her folded arms.

“God, I shouldn’t wish ill health on the man, should I?” she said dolefully. “What’s wrong with me, Rubes? I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“Yeah, it feels that way to me, too,” remarked Ruby.

“Why am I like this?” demanded Lacey, pushing upright again. “Past Lacey was never like this. Past Lacey would find a hot guy, have a good time, and move the hell on! Past Lacey would have been like ‘pfft, so he’s not interested, his loss’. That’s always how it was before.”

“So maybe it’s something more meaningful this time,” suggested Ruby. “Maybe present Lacey wants an actual relationship, not just hot crazy sex.”

“Oh no, present Lacey totally wants the hot crazy sex,” said Lacey, snickering as she reached for her drink. “I just need him to want me back, that’s all.”

“I told you, the ‘you seeing him naked’ thing put him off,” said Ruby. “Guys like Gold need to feel like they’re in charge.”

“Hmmm.” Lacey grinned widely. “He can do that if he wants.”

Her grin widened at the thought of Gold taking charge in a number of very delicious ways, and Ruby rolled her eyes.

“You got it bad, girl,” she observed.

“I can’t help it!” said Lacey, slapping the bar with her palms. “First time we met I saw his junk, and believe me, it was absolutely no hardship as far as I’m concerned. And since then I’ve been checking him out every chance I get.” She took a slurp of her drink to wet her throat. “I thought he looked pretty good full frontal, but did you see his ass in those pants? Biteable.”

Ruby’s eyes had gone very wide.

“Lacey, shh!” she hissed.

“What? It’s true!” Lacey waved a hand. “I always thought you’d need a big hammer to bang in a nail that size, but nope! Almost as cute and pert as mine.”

“Yeah, that’s a great point you just made about - uh - carpentry,” said Ruby loudly, and Lacey felt her brow crinkle.

“Carpentry? What the hell are you - it was a metaphor, Rubes!” she insisted. “I’m talking about how Gold should man up and nail me!”

“Hey Mr Gold!” said Ruby brightly, a somewhat desperate smile on her face. “What can I get you?”

Lacey felt as though a bucket of iced water had been thrown in her face, the shock of it making her catch her breath with a gasp. A ball of lead the size of a small watermelon appeared to have dropped into her stomach and was trying to drag her down through the floorboards and into the diner cellar. She was tempted to let it. He’s right fucking behind me, isn’t he?

“Miss Lucas,” Gold’s lazy drawl made her close her eyes in horror. “Just the rent, if you please. I leave minor - uh - carpentry jobs to those with more inclination for the task.”

Lacey wanted to die. She slipped from the stool, snatching up her bag and coat. Perhaps if she didn’t open her eyes, he wouldn’t be able to see her.

“Later, Rubes,” she muttered, and almost ran from the diner.

Gold watched her go, slim legs moving remarkably quickly considering the height of her heels. Turning back to the bar, he favoured Miss Lucas with a tiny smile, but she was glaring at him, dark eyes flashing.

“Are you stupid?” she demanded, and he frowned.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, in a freezing voice, and she threw up her hands.

“That poor girl just said out loud how much she wants to bang you, and your response is to be all snide and cutting? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What are you talking about?” he snapped. “I know full well Miss French has no interest in me other than as an object of ridicule!”

Miss Lucas put her hands on her hips, glaring at him.

“Don’t you have eyes?” she demanded. “You telling me you haven’t seen her staring at you?”

“Oh, I vividly remember our first encounter,” he said dryly. “I also remember hearing her discuss it with you afterwards. You’ll forgive me if I’m not turned on by mockery.”

Miss Lucas sniffed.

“Look, if you’re getting your cock out in public you have to expect a little teasing.”

“I did not get my cock out in public!” he snapped. “It was on my own property, and frankly it’s no more your business than it was hers!”

“Yeah, well she wasn’t mocking you, she was just - surprised.”

“Oh please!” he said, in a disparaging tone. “I’ve no interest in whatever game you two are playing.”

“She just said you should man up and nail her! You heard her!”

“Really?” he said dismissively, tugging at cuffs that didn’t need it. “Hilarious, if one understands the context, I’m sure.”

“Oh my God…” She shook her head. “Blind, deaf and stupid. I should have just talked to Neal.”

“What does my son have to do with this?” he demanded, and she shrugged.

“Just saying. Something tells me he’s not as dense as you.”

Gold glared at her.

“Are you gonna give me the rent, or do I have to consider raising it?”

“Fine, resort to empty threats all you like,” she sniffed, turning away.

She unlocked the drawer beneath the counter, taking out the envelope of rent money, and slapping it on the counter. She was still glaring at him, and Gold took the money with an unpleasant smile, opening it up and beginning to count out the notes.

“She likes you,” said Miss Lucas, making him pause. “Lacey likes you. Weird as it seems to me, and as much as I don’t want to hear about her many fantasies involving you, she likes you. She likes you a lot. As in she wants to have sex with you. Also a lot.”

Gold had lost count the moment she mentioned Lacey’s name, but there was no way he was about to admit it. He gathered up the pile of bills, stuffing it back into the envelope and retrieving his notebook from his pocket.

“It’s all there,” he said stiffly, flipping through the pages.

“Just ask her out,” went on Miss Lucas. “Or go to that dance of Zelena’s if you’re gonna be a wuss about it. Then you don’t even need to ask her out. You could just - you would be there, and she would be there, and the two of you could - you know.”

Gold could barely see what he was writing, but he pretended that he knew what he was doing. He wrote the date out with such a flourish that it tore the paper, and slipped the notebook back into his pocket. The envelope of money followed it, his hands shaking a little.

“Thank you, Miss Lucas,” he said, his tone hollow. “Do give my regards to your grandmother.”

Turning on his heel, he fixed his gaze on the door and limped towards it as though it was the path to his salvation.

“Why are you both such idiots!” called Miss Lucas, and he flinched as he grasped the door handle.

Getting out into the cool summer evening, he let the door close behind him, and exhaled slowly, head rolling back as he let the soft breeze caress his skin. Surely Miss Lucas wasn’t being serious? Admittedly Lacey had said something extremely suggestive about him, but what if it was part of their banter, the joke that never got old. Gold and his naked body, forever an object of ridicule.

What if it wasn’t? A voice in his head whispered to him, a faint spark of hope igniting deep within him. What if she actually likes you? You could go to that tedious charity ball. By the sound of it, she’ll be there, no doubt reporting for the Mirror. You could ask her to dance. That wouldn’t arouse anyone’s suspicions. Maybe not even hers. And if she does like you...

The idea of Lacey actually returning his feelings was too heady to contemplate, and Gold shook his head, striding off down the street. No. He would think about this intriguing possibility when he was in the safety of his own home and with a large glass of something strong. He definitely needed a little Dutch courage to plan his next move.

#fic: heatstroke #golden lace fic #golden lace #my fic #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #timelordthirteen

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uwua3 · 4 years

Text

price of being a dad.

🍁💸 furuichi sakyo

summary: you may not have a birth father, but you do have a family.

warnings: abandonment issues, abuse (mentions), angst with happy ending, birthday, daddy/parental issues, food

author’s note: for everyone who grew up with no father figure in their life, a dad who didn’t do shit, or a man who never loved them, this is for you ♡ sakyo loves you! (reminder this is a completely platonic/fatherly figure one shot)

word count: 2,859

music: since the day i was born – lostcrowboy

You wished your father loved you.

Maybe, you stay up late into the night, staring up at the ceiling, wondering why he left. Why did he selfishly pack up and go forever? How come he didn’t want to play the role of your father anymore when you needed him most, sobbing and begging for a second chance even if it wasn’t your fault? Or on the other hand, you may be hiding away in your bedroom, shaking and asking why he stayed. Why would he abuse the entire family with his violent, aggressive presence? How did he have the nerve to put a picture–perfect front in the public with the sting of his hits burning into your cheek?

Did he say he’d come back for you one day? You couldn’t remember anything—not his words or what he looked like. Your dad was gone, it didn’t matter how, he left you. He gave up, he was a quitter.

You said you hated your dad, but you knew, you’d take his love back in a heartbeat if you could.

Especially today, since it was your birthday.

It was another day in your calendar, another day to be alone and angry over something you couldn’t control. You would never admit it, but you wanted a happy birthday for goddamn once. The ridiculously cheesy triangular hats strapped on your head, a store–bought ice cream cake with your name in icing on top, a crowd of your friends and family singing the traditional song off-tune with big smiles. It would’ve been something you wished for, if only you had the appropriate amount of candles.

As you woke up to nothing, you couldn’t help but bear the weight of immense disappointment you experienced every year. For some unknown reason, a small, childish part of you wanted to wake up to a “Happy Birthday!” from your loved ones. It wasn’t their fault, though. You did everything possible to make sure no one knew it was your birthday so you wouldn’t be let down again.

First thing in the morning, and your thoughts already trailed back to your deadbeat father. How nice. You sighed, not exactly having the energy to wake up and face your own fears before a harsh knock sounded at your door. Did one of the boys need help setting up for the latest play or something? You hurriedly rushed to open the door, about to ask what was wrong before you stopped, meeting face to face with a familiar pair of black, square glasses and a blank expression.

It was Sakyo, infamous yakuza with a glare that could kill. He stood before you in his usual black turtleneck and grey suit, his arms across his chest with his foot tapping against the ground, a sign he was growing impatient. Before you could slam the door closed and run the hell away, Sakyo seemed to notice and stuck his foot right between the opening, pinching his nose bridge with a frustrated groan. Of course, the yakuza had quick reflexes for his old age.

“Rookie, learn some proper manners for once!” Sakyo barked, prying open the door against your very insistent will. You eventually let the door slam against the wall, knowing it was a losing battle because once Furuichi Sakyo put his mind to something, he’d always win. With something akin to satisfaction, Sakyo met your eye with a huff, pushing back a strand of blonde hair covering his vivid purple eyes.

“Good. You’re awake, I would’ve had to kill you if you were still sleeping.” Sakyo cursed casually, blinking at your sudden flinch from his words. He paused, before adding a “Nevermind that... Anyways, get dressed”, closing your door quickly and disappearing down the hallway. You took a moment to process what he just said, before quickly preparing for the day with a million questions running through your head.

Why would Sakyo need you for anything? He was more than capable of ordering Mankai, nevertheless Autumn Troupe, to do the dirty work around the dormitory. After all, no one wanted to deal with the backlash of Sakyo’s (unfortunately correct) criticism about how twenty plus boys couldn’t just live like they were all teenagers. So, why you? You grabbed all your proper necessities for an outing, knowing damn well a job done with Sakyo wasn’t just a short trip.

Reaching the main lobby, you noticed Sakyo pass a list of some sorts to Izumi, who glanced over it and nodded. She was about to say something before her eyes landed on you, sending you a bright smile and waving good morning. You couldn’t help but notice how much they looked like parents sending their children off to school, the observation causing a deep sense of sadness to settle as you looked away uncomfortably.

You missed the way Sakyo’s hand hovered over your shoulder for a moment before dropping it to his side, clearing his throat to get your attention. You turned to him, seeing the car keys already in hand and an itinerary written in his planner. Oh no...

“You’re here quick, good job.” Sakyo mentioned offhandedly, pushing his glasses up with his free hand as he reviewed his own list. You didn’t know why, but you almost felt overwhelmed with being praised by Sakyo so early in the day. A warm sensation of pride filled your chest, replacing the previous melancholy from before. You tried not to make your smile obvious, but Sakyo narrowed his eyes at you.

“What are you laughing at, rookie?”

“Nothing, nothing!”

“That’s what I thought... kids these days.”

(You weren’t the only one who tried to hold in your laugh, though some did better than others. Luckily, you weren’t at the receiving end of a harsh threat from Sakyo.)

Sakyo was only thirty (30) years old, but sometimes, he acted like an old man despite his impressive agility and athleticism that challenged the teens. You admired this as Sakyo ordered for the car keys from Sakoda, catching them smoothly with his hands gripping them without fail. You were certain you would never witness Sakyo drop anything in this lifetime, and dutifully followed him to his car, saying your goodbyes to the rest of the company.

Weirdly enough, Sakoda didn’t follow, but stayed behind with the group who was oddly awake already. You didn’t have the guts to question it, as you moved to sit in the back of the car. Sakyo was about to start the engine before he stopped, looking in the mirror with an almost confused glint to his eyes.

“Why are you in the back?” Sakyo asked, to which you blinked as if it was most obvious thing in the world.

“I don’t deserve to sit in the front.” You retorted immediately and Sakyo frowned, a deep furrow to his eyebrows as you wondered why he reacted the way he did.

“Who taught you that?” You didn’t respond to the question, so Sakyo just exited the car, opening your door with the same displeased look. Yet, it wasn’t aimed at you, it seemed to be distant and cold.

“Get in the passenger side, sit anywhere you want.” Sakyo demanded and who were you to refuse? You slid into the seat beside him and Sakyo drove off, the Veludo Way scenery passing by you. You glanced at the dashboard and of course, he was driving at the safe speed limit. A yakuza who obeyed the law, how uncommon.

Ten (10) minutes must’ve passed before you shifted in your seat, fidgeting with your fingers. Sakyo sighed tiredly, as if he hadn’t slept at all as he slowed down to a stoplight.

“You know, you don’t have to be so uncomfortable around me, rookie.” Sakyo said calmly, tapping his fingers on the wheel with his eyes trained on the lights.

You were constantly being taken by surprise today, all because of Sakyo Furuichi. Before this, you hadn’t shared more than a few sentences at a time with Sakyo. The most you’ve said to him was during a financial budget meeting for the staff, mostly to halfheartedly support Yuki & Tsuzuru’s demands of a larger budget. Yet, here Sakyo was, acting as if you both were... family.

You swallowed down the bitterness from the thought of your actual family, before looking over at Sakyo. Sakyo was already looking at you and attempted some sort of smile. Even though you wanted to laugh at how hard he was trying to appear normal, you appreciated the effort. Sakyo naturally had a dad–like smile, how fitting.

Sakyo’s smile grew genuine at the sight of yours and before he said anything, a car horn cut off his thoughts. You didn’t know when the light turned green, but Sakyo quickly drove off while muttering a curse at the impatient line of cars behind them.

“Sakyo, where are we going?” You asked after you realized the roads were leading directly to the shops. Sakyo pulled into a parking spot carefully, but with the ease of someone who’s driven a thousand times and more. How did he just parallel park like that? You tried to hide it, but you were always impressed by Sakyo.

“Where does it look like?” Sakyo opened his door and slipped out, looking out of place during the daytime. You watched him before snapping out of it, hurriedly clambering after him as he barely looked over his shoulder. Sakyo was already halfway down the sidewalk before you caught up, knowing he must’ve been running on a tight schedule doing god knows what.

“What are you shopping for?” You questioned, trying to maintain your breathing. Sakyo finally looked down at you, furrowing his eyebrows before relaxing his face, noticing your worried expression immediately. You easily read the smallest signals from people, and it wasn’t hard to wonder why.

“We,” Sakyo emphasized, making a point to include you as he stopped, nearly making you bump straight into him. “are going to every store in this place. I need help buying... a gift, for someone. You pick, got it?”

You couldn’t help but imagine a father buying a gift for their child. This was the closest you would ever get to that dream—that dream of being loved in such a parental way. You just nodded, knowing if you spoke, your voice would crack. Sakyo didn’t ask, but his eyes lingered on you for a moment before searching the random assortment of stores.

“They’re like you. I’m sure they’ll like whatever you choose.” Sakyo tried to comfort you, but his tone fell flat and he seemed out of his element. Before the silence got too awkward, Sakyo gestured towards the food court. “Forgot breakfast this morning. Let’s go.”

Who were you to argue with Furuichi Sakyo? You followed him, even if he was a bit lost. Sakyo must’ve avoided the mall for its crowds of people, because he did a full 360 as he read each menu.

“... What place do you like?” Sakyo finally asked, peering down at you to catch the smallest movement. You barely glanced at some breakfast display before he made his way over, ordering for you. For some reason, you were flattered at how Sakyo actually knew your favorite breakfast option. You didn’t even have to correct him, he just knew.

When you both sat down at a table (after Sakyo embarrassingly demanding a wipe to decontaminate the dirty spaces malls offered), Sakyo glanced up every once in a while to make sure you were eating a full meal. Sure, mall food was less than ideal, but you seemed so content that he didn’t mind the overpriced options, surprisingly.

“Thank you for the food, Sakyo.” When you thanked him for the meal quietly, Sakyo felt a pain in his heart from how nervous it was. Sakyo just waved his hand as if to say it was nothing, looking away. Why did Sakyo suddenly feel so proud all of a sudden?

As you stood before all of the stores, not knowing where to start, you heard a sentence you never thought possible from Sakyo.

“Today, price doesn’t matter. Go choose whatever you think is best.”

In fact, today was possibly the worst day to be shopping with Sakyo. Anytime you picked something up, he would attempt to buy it without you looking, thinking mere observation was interest. You had to explain to him that just because you complimented something, didn’t mean you wanted it to be the choice.

“How many gifts are you planning on getting this person?” You laughed, a part of you jealous of this mystery person. Sakyo must’ve really cared about them. Sakyo just shrugged, putting back a shirt you thought was fashionable. Sakyo was truly unfamiliar in this new territory. Sakyo really wasn’t a person who spent money, so being inside a mall was enough to make him on edge at all times. But... Sakyo contentedly watched you as he made sure no one was following. Sakyo would never get used to a mall, but it wasn’t so bad today.

Sakyo breathed a sigh of relief when you finally chose something, most likely fed up with the number of people at any given place. You were surprised that Sakyo didn’t even check the price and swiped his card. Yakuza money must’ve been a different lifestyle, you thought. At the register, the cashier checked the item out and looked up, politely making small talk.

“Are you shopping with your father today?”

You looked around and realized they were asking you. The cashier thought Sakyo was your father. You both froze, shocked at the simple question. You failed to recover, attempting to adamantly deny the conversation with a nervous laugh.

“N–No! Um... he’s—” “Yes, I am their dad. It’s our special hang out this month.” Sakyo replied smoothly, seemingly unbothered by your reaction. The cashier seemed touched by the fact you two went out monthly, sending you both their congratulations. Sakyo took back the credit card and purchase, thanking the cashier for their service as he escorted you to the front of the store.

You were still in shock by the time Sakyo made you sit down on a bench. You couldn’t process the words even if you kept hearing them in your head. Sakyo confirmed he was your father, and although you knew it was a lie, you felt proud. Why did it make you so happy to hear Sakyo say that? Why did Sakyo even say that? Was this what being someone’s child felt like? You couldn’t even remember the last time your father was publicly proud of being related to you. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your head.

Sakyo was... patting your head? Sakyo seemed caught off guard, even if he moved to do so. It must’ve been subconscious because Sakyo took a moment before ruffling your hair, the action unfamiliar to both of you.

“Don’t blank in a public space. It’s not safe.” Sakyo said firmly, looking at his hand. On the same hand, he was wearing a watch. Reading the time, Sakyo’s eyes slightly widened before he stood up, quickly mentioning something about being late to an event. You nodded as Sakyo scrolled through his phone, the buzzing consistent as some sort of group chat was blowing up his device.

“Okay. Let’s go home.” Sakyo casually mentioned but you experienced a warm sensation of pride once more. Home... you hadn’t had a place like that in so long. You followed Sakyo to the car, noticing he checked to make sure you were following this time.

On the way home, Sakyo properly made sure all roads were safe (Sakyo let you turn on the radio this time). When Sakyo pulled in and stopped the car, he pulled the bag from the back of the car and shoved it into your hands. Even though Sakyo pretended it wasn’t a big deal, you saw his embarrassment on his face. Sakyo didn’t give gifts often, but when he did, it meant something.

“This is for you. Keep this, okay?” Sakyo pulled at his collar when you finally smiled, unable to deny it when it was a token of your time spent together. Before Sakyo could leave the car, you pulled Sakyo into a hug with a big grin.

“Thanks, dad.” You accidentally let slip out, but Sakyo awkwardly patted your back. “Of course, rookie. I’ll see you next month for our hang out.”

That was the start of hanging out with Sakyo every month, and it all started on your birthday. When you walked into the pitch-black dorms, all you heard was a “Happy birthday!” from every person in the company. While everyone began singing, You noticed Omi and Izumi carry out a homemade cake with the right amount of candles, the flames dancing in front of you. You blew them out ceremoniously, smiling as Mankai cheered.

(For once, you didn’t wish for anything. You had everything you needed, right here.)

When you spun around, you saw Sakyo wearing a dumb party hat and that’s when you knew: Your home was with your second family, Mankai.

You didn’t have your birth dad, but you did have a family.

#furuichi sakyo #sakyo furuichi #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! one shots #act! addict! actors! one shots #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! sakyo #a3 sakyo

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atsukashii · 4 years

Text

❝chance encounter❞ // k. takami

SYNOPSIS: ➛ bickering with Japans number 2 hero about ice cream flavours in a supermarket wasn’t how you expected to spend your Friday night

» CHARACTER PAIRING: keigo takami/hawks x reader

» WORD COUNT: 2.9K

» GENRE: normal?

» WARNINGS: swearing & fluff and just crack really

« masterlist || ao3 »

You had been craving mint chocolate ice cream literally all day. But then again, craving anything with exceedingly high levels of sugar and crap-loads of chocolate wasn’t anything new recently. In times like these, owning your own bakery was both the best decision you’ve ever made, and a huge mistake. Considering you had been up since three am baking away in the kitchen of your cafe and had snacked on basically one of every sweet thing that came out of the oven and anything you had in the display cabinet, if you kept this up you’d have to get a gym membership. But right now, you wanted mint chocolate ice cream. You look down at your stomach and for a moment, the thought of eating healthily crosses your mind. The thought is, however, instantly pushed out by the idea of you, on your couch, in your pj’s, with a pint of mint chocolate ice-cream, watching TV and de-stressing about the absolutely crappy day you had. That sounds way better.

Walking straight down the candy aisle of the supermarket, you don't even bother glancing at your basket as you toss in chocolates, chips, soft drinks, and any unhealthy food you can physically get your hands on. Out of the corner of your eye, you see an old lady coming towards you with a trolley, who looks up from her list, and eyes your basket with disdain.

Cut me some slack, you want to snap at her, I’m heartbroken and pissed off!

You ignore the dirty look she gives you, and snatch a bottle of Coke off the shelf. You were very much aware that you currently looked like you had been digging through garbage all day. Your clothes - even though you wore an apron - no doubt have flour on them, your hair looks like a rat made its home on your head, and your eyes dry and itchy from crying. You knew you looked like a mess, you have just surpassed the threshold of actually caring about your appearance. Like your ex didn’t care about showing up at your shop with his new thing after dumping me only two weeks ago…

The second your friend and co-owner of the cafe saw him in the store, they kicked him out, wielding the broom like a weapon. You had wished that they smacked him in the face with it, but fearing assault charges - they didn’t. He didn’t leave however, until after he had flaunted his new relationship in your face. You had thankfully moved on past the whole, ‘why’ stage of the breakup, and came to the conclusion it was purely because he was a trash human being. However, to say that it didn’t hurt seeing him holding another girl’s hand and acting like he used to do with you, with someone else - well that would be a lie. It had been two weeks after all, and considering you had been together for two years - it felt as if those 24 months had meant nothing to him.

So now, you wanted to drown your pain in chocolates, and mint chocolate ice cream and no one was going to stand in your way.

You walk over to the freezer section of the store with confidence in your step, suddenly excited to get home and start bingeing the romance section on Netflix. That enthusiasm quickly dies as you reach for the handle of the freezer, your eyes locking onto the empty row where your favorite ice cream flavor always sat. You’re joking… You blinked at the glass as if trying to force the food into being before you.

There. Is. None. Left.

“You’ve got to be kidding me right now,” you groan. Of all days for there to be a shortage, it had to be today. You look down at your basket of Oreos, pocky’s, soft drink, chips, and everything else you had craved the second you saw it on the shelves. I’d trade it all for ice cream though… Resting your head on the cold glass of the freezer, you let out a groan of frustration. This was just the topping to an already crappy day. It was ironic when people say not to cry over spilled milk - and here you were wanting to cry over ice cream.

“Tough day?” A voice startles you away from the fridge. Following the sound, your head snaps to your left where your eyes immediately meet a golden pair that have your lungs spluttering and frantically, trying to figure out how the heck to breathe. Okay, he’s attractive. Like really attractive. His golden eyes are practically glowing at you with amusement, his hair looking like liquid gold - and super soft. You kinda want to touch it. In washed-out black jeans, a white t-shirt, and a denim jacket stopping the cold from the open freezers, he looks too attractive to be real. But then your eyes lock onto the red wings, peeking from behind his shoulders and you know who he is in an instant. The question though, was why the heck the number two pro hero Hawks was even currently talking to you right now. Realizing you hadn’t answered him yet, and instead, were just checking him out instead for god knows how long, you clear your throat and reply.

“Tough week.” You correct, pulling yourself together before looking down at your basket again, hoping it doesn’t look as pathetic as the rest of you. “And to top it off, there’s none of my favourite ice cream left.” Letting out a groan, you shift on your feet. You don’t know why you just said that maybe you didn’t want the attractive blonde hero to go just yet.

With an over-dramatic wince, Hawks leans his shoulder against the glass, as chilled out as the food inside the freezer. “Ouch, I know that feeling. That’s true betrayal,” he says, his eyes playful. It brings a small smile to your lips, and he takes that as an opportunity to stick out his hand to you. “Keigo Takami,” Hawks introduces himself as if you didn’t know who he was. Maybe he doesn’t think you would know… With a friendly smile and butterflies flying frantically inside your stomach, you shake his hand.

“Y/n Y/l/n. It’s nice to meet you,” you reply, trying not to think about how big his hand is compared to your own. God, was there flour on your hands right now? You prayed you had managed to wash it all off fully and that you didn’t suddenly look as run-down as you thought you did. Quickly -but not too fast to make him think you didn’t want to touch him- you drop the handshake and wipe your hands as inconspicuously as you can, on your jeans.

“Beautiful name,” he glances at the empty ice-cream shelf. “But a girl with questionable choices in ice cream flavours.” You gape at Keigo in utter shock. Oh, he did not just say that.

“You did not just say that.” You repeat out loud.

“I’m afraid so.” He answers, one hand in his pocket the other holding his basket, and a care-free smile covering his lips. “Who likes mint choc anyways?” For a moment you sputter for a response at this blatant ridicule against the best ice-cream flavour to ever exist. You will happily fight anyone on that, including the number two pro hero in Japan.

“Intelligent people, that’s who.” You argue back. “I bet you’re the kind of person whose favourite is vanilla.” His golden eyebrows shoot up at your words.

“What’s wrong with good old fashioned vanilla Y/n?” Your name slips off his tongue like pure honey and it would normally send shivers down your spine. No, you will not look past this obvious disrespect against your ice cream preferences, not even for hot guys. No, you will not.

“It’s the most boring flavour to ever exist.”

“And mint choc isn’t?” He asks like it's a loaded question. Shaking your head at both his uneducated taste buds and this whole conversation, it begins to dawn on you that you’re smiling. When was the last time you smiled a lot recently? You question yourself, trying to wind back through your hazy memories of the past two weeks - and coming up with nothing.

“Mint chocolate is the best. You should tell your taste buds that what the ice-cream they think they enjoy is crappy ice-cream.” and Hawks is grinning at you, it’s a smile that is contagious, and has your own growing bigger with every passing word.

“I’ll be sure to let them know.” God this whole conversation was one of the weirdest you had ever had in your life. And the fact that you had it with a pro hero, and Hawks for that matter...that just made it thirty times more strange. Looking back to the freezer, you decide you still want ice cream and settle for strawberry and cream, which earns a look from hawks as you put it in your basket.

“Shut up,” you defend, fake glaring at the blonde. Holding his hands up feigning innocence, Keigo shrugs at you.

“I didn’t say anything sweet-cheeks.” Your cheeks in question flush hotly at the term, and you quickly fiddle with the handle of your basket, giving you something to do so you don’t stand there looking like a complete idiot at his blatant flirting.

“But if you’re going to question my taste buds, then yours must be just as bad. Because last time I checked, Wagon Wheels were still way better than Oreo's.” His eyes meet yours, delight swirling inside his liquid golden irises and you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out your lips, shaking your head slightly.

“Okay, you’re definitely crazy.”

“Only a little bit,” Keigo smirks before his smile falls at the contents of your basket. You square your shoulders, knowing that there’s a chance that he might give you shit for its contents like that old lady from before. But the words that do come from his mouth surprise you.

“Was that the last KitKat?” Immediately, you look at the red packaging of the chocolate block inside your basket, and then back to the pro hero who is now gazing at it like it's made of diamonds. Hawks look’s like you imagine you had when you’d grabbed it off the shelf, seeing that it was the last one and deciding that it had to be some sort of sign that things were looking up for you. That was, of course, before you had seen the travesty of the empty mint chocolate shelf of the supermarket freezer.

“I’ll trade you.” Keigo suddenly says, making you eye the man. “I’ll trade you the KitKat for this,” he finishes, reaching into his basket and… pulls out a fucking tub of choc mint ice cream. Are you kidding me??

“You’re joking.” Staring at him, at the sheepish smile across his face, you shake your head.

“Afraid not.” He tilts his head at you. “That is unless you don’t want it…” going to lower the tub back into his basket, a noise comes out of your throat that has him smirking again. Embarrassment flooding your features, you shift slightly and glare at the hero.

“I thought you didn’t like that flavour?” You point out, wanting to know what the hell was going on.

“Oh no I do - it's one of my favourites. I just needed a reason to keep on talking to you,” Keigo admits unashamedly as you feel your cheeks warm again. If I was ever questioning if he was hitting on me…

“Oh,” is all you can manage to get out before your brain begins to catch up with the world again. “Well, in that case, I’ll trade.” Agreeing, you pass him the chocolate block and he gives you the tub of ice cream, your hand brushes him and you try not to act like a crazy person about how attracted to him you are.

“Thank you,” you try to say but it comes out as a slight whisper. His mouth morphs into a cocky smile, which just makes you flush even more.

“No, thank you y/n” he says, shaking the Kit-kat for emphasis in his hand. “They’re the best chocolate to ever exist.”

“Finally we agree on something,” You laugh, finally turning you back on the freezer and begin to walk backward, away from the hero. When he notices you moving from him, with every step away from that you make, he takes one forward, following you through the store.

“No, we agreed on the ice-cream too,” he beams.

“That’s right because really, you were just being an ass and hiding that fact from me.” You sass back, spinning around so you can see where you’re going.

“In order to keep talking to you, it was a sacrifice I was willing to make.” He says, hurrying forward until you are walking side by side down a different aisle, moving slowly towards the checkout. Your footsteps are both slow and leisurely as if neither of you wants to reach the check out just yet. “But it worked, didn’t it? So I’d say it was worth your glare.” You turn that ‘glare’ back on him and raise an eyebrow at his antics.

“You could have said something else you know.”

“Such as?” He asks, genuinely curious. You weren’t an intimidating person, so you weren’t sure as to why a guy such as Hawks would be wary of approaching you. Especially when the reality is that those roles are definitely reversed. Was your resting bitch face that bad?

“You could have said, ‘Hey, I think you’re cute. Can I have your number?” Rolling his eyes at your words, disbelievingly.

“You’re telling me that line would work on someone like you?” Unsure if that was a compliment or not, you stop in the middle of the aisle causing him to stop next to you. You look into his eyes, trying to judge where his mind is but he’s hard to read. The only thing you knew, was that his smile seemed genuine and very amused by you. That was good enough for you.

“Try me.” You test, confidence coming up from who knows where. With raised eyebrows and calling your bluff, Hawks smirks at you.

“Hey y/n, I know we just met but I think you’re really cute. Can I have your number?” He teases.

“Sure.” Keigo blinks at you for a moment, then two - as if he can’t believe the words that came out of your mouth. First, it comes out slowly, then all at once, the corners of his mouth pull up into a dazzling smile, and a deep laugh rumbles from his chest. It’s the smile though, and the happiness that seeps from him that has your head feeling dizzy. A small smile cracks across your face as you begin to rattle off your number. Keigo scrambles for his phone and quickly types it in, not missing a beat for a second. One he slips it back into his back pocket, you move your basket to your other arm and walk away from the hero. Only looking over your shoulder when you’re a few feet away.

“It was nice to meet you Hawks.” Keigo runs a hand through his blonde hair, a delighted chuckle slipping past his lips that has you grinning. He had so underestimated you.

“You’re going to keep me on my toes aren’t you?”

“Oh, you bet bird boy.” You say, turning away from him and walking to the checkout. Today might not be that bad after all, you think as the older lady scans your items and bags them. It’s only then that you realize again that the whole time you had been talking to Keigo, your crappy day had been forgotten and you had actually laughed. The entire thing, he did because he noticed you frazzled and looking down. Your respect for the hero grew, and it took everything in you to not turn around to where you knew he was now standing a few people behind you in the line. Instead, you left the store, the smile not moving from your face. You don’t even make it a few feet from the glass automatic doors of the supermarket before your phone pings, vibrating in your jacket pocket. Reaching inside you look at the new text, immediately knowing who it’s from.

From Unknown: Want to go get dinner with me sometime this week? - the KitKat fiend.

You giggle at the way he ends it, and quickly tap out a response.

As long as it’s not seafood I’m there. You reply, before you turn around, looking through the glass windows and finding his golden hair quickly. In the midst of a conversation with the store clerk, he suddenly reaches for his pocket and grabs his phone with furrowed brows. Suddenly, a beautiful, bright smile that even has the shop lady hesitating with her scanning just to witness it, stretches across his face. Keigo quickly fiddles with his phone before putting it away and turning his attention to the blushing woman behind the counter. Looks like he has that effect on everyone. Your phone vibrates in your hand.

To bird-boy: It's a date.

Who would have thought a small chance encounter with the number two hero where you bicker over ice cream would change your life in such a monumental way.

#hawks fluff #keigo takami #takami keigo #bnha takami keigo #mha hawks #keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #keigo takami fluff #takami keigho fluff #lolsplaysbingo

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queercapwriting · 3 years

Note

Hi Cap! I've really missed your weekly Sanvers drabbles. How about something cute with them doing a secret santa and they draw each other's name? Maybe they aren't even together yet but by the end of the gift exchange, they get a great/perfect gift plus a girfriend! :D

Maggie had no idea how her name even got added to this God-forsaken drawing, but she strongly suspected M’gann.

“Was this you?” she asked, halfway through her third round of beer. M’gann paused in wiping down the camera, face the picture of mild curiosity and innocence.

Maggie was pretty sure she knew better.

She flashed her phone toward the bartender, details of the DEO’s Secret Santa exchange on it. M’gann heaved the most affected shrug Maggie had ever seen.

“Was what me?”

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“It paired me with Danvers, M’gann. I suppose that was you, too?”

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” M’gann nodded at someone down on the other side of the bar. “But I did hear her sister talking about how much Danvers used to like surfing.”

Maggie most certainly did not picture Alex Danvers soaking wet in the ocean.

No, she most certainly did not.

+++

“Kara.” Alex was lying on her back in her little sister’s living room, with her feet up on the couch. An open box of pizza was sitting on her stomach. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe start with sitting up while you eat, Alex, you know what happened with that pop tart when you were a senior in high school.”

Alex scowled. “It was a defective pop tart.”

“Alex.”

“I don’t even know what kinds of things she likes.”

Kara plopped onto the couch and swiped the box of pizza off Alex’s stomach. Alex glared, but worked her way up onto the couch. She took the pizza box back.

“Sure you do, you’ve been spending all that time playing pool together at the bar. And working all those cases. You can’t possibly only talk about work, Alex.”

Alex squinted. “I mean, we pretty much can. And do. She... she’s from Nebraska. And she... likes aliens? Not like in a fetishizing way, I mean, just - it - and guns. She likes guns? Sort of? It’s complicated. But she does like scotch. And beer. And -”

“And you are not getting her an alien or a gun for Christmas, so maybe we can do more brainstorming.”

+++

“Danvers.” Maggie tried to keep her tone even the next day, working some scene or another with Alex. Normally, she’d know everything about everything about where she was and what she was doing. Today, she was coasting on prior knowledge and the ability to... well, to detect.

Because if Alex Danvers was distracting under normal circumstances, well, knowing she’d have to give her a damn present at the end of the week was a whole new layer of brain scatteredness.

“Sawyer.” She thought maybe there was a smile in Alex’s voice - who did she get for Secret Santa? - but no, she was definitely projecting. Wishful thinking. Alex wasn’t even into girls. M’gann was being ridiculous. Sweet, but ridiculous. Because even if Alex was into girls, this was Alex damn Danvers. So far out of Maggie’s league.

“What’ve we got?”

She tried to follow Alex’s words rather than just the pitch of her voice and the way her body moved. The way she squinted her eyes almost like a glare when she was concentrating, or pushed her hair out of her face almost like she was annoyed by it when she was trying to see something closer. Or the way she licked her lips sometimes, and she’d probably taste like -

No, no, nope, absolutely not.

“So Danvers, um. Doing anything special for the holidays? You going home for Chanukah, or?”

“Pfft, no.”

Maggie tilted her head, but said nothing. She just passed Alex the dusting powder she’d been looking for, wordless, because more and more these days, they weren’t needing words.

Alex sighed. “My mom and I aren’t a great combination around the holidays. Especially since my dad’s been. Um, gone.”

“I’m sorry, Danvers.”

Alex smiled, more with her eyes than with her mouth. It made Maggie’s heart break and heal at the same time.

“We’ll get together when it’s not the holidays - less intense, less expectations. But I will miss the ocean. It’s always nice, going home to the ocean.”

Maggie watched something like regret flicker across her face. But only for a moment.

“What about you, Maggie? Going home?”

She ignored the way her stomach always flipped when Alex used her first name. When Alex just existed at all.

She made herself chuckle. “No, definitely not. Wouldn’t be welcome even if I wanted to. Home... home is wherever I happen to be at any given time, which is pretty much everywhere and nowhere all at once.”

“Sounds lonely.” Alex paused her analysis of whatever it was she was examining - Maggie had long since lost track of their scene - and met her eyes.

“Not all the time.” She said it while she held Alex’s gaze. She said it before she could think. Dammit. Now Alex was going to -

“Good. You don’t deserve to be lonely.”

Maggie wasn’t sure if she was grateful or enraged when the rookie she was training ambled up to them, asking for guidance on how to file one piece of evidence or another.

She thought Alex looked disappointed, but she was almost definitely projecting.

+++

“Merry holidays, Danvers.”

The sound of Maggie’s voice made her jump way too high to just be startled. She wished, not for the first time, that she had a much higher degree of chill around this woman.

“Sawyer.” Oh crap, did her voice squeak? Who was she, Winn? “What uh, what are you doing here?”

She glanced around the DEO like Maggie was about to be tackled by -

“Vasquez let me in.”

Ah. No tackling, then.

“Is everything okay, what -”

“Yeah, no, I just um. You’ve all got that holiday party thing tonight, and parties really aren’t my thing, so honestly, I’m gonna skip it, but I - I got put into that Secret Santa thing, and I got your name, so I just wanted to um -”

How Alex hadn’t noticed that Maggie had been holding something behind her back the whole time, she had no clue. Maybe because her hair was down, and she was fidgeting a little and it was more than a little bit cute, and -

“Happy Chanukah, Danvers. Or, Christmakuah, or whatever.”

She was pressing something into Alex’s hands, and she was smiling that little titled smile, and she was walking away, and -

“Wait, you’re not coming tonight?”

Maggie stopped but didn’t turn around, not all the way.

“They’re not really my thing, Danvers.”

“But how will you get the gift from whoever drew your name?”

“M’gann’s going. I asked her if she would -”

“I don’t want to give your present to M’gann.”

Dammit. Had she sounded desperate, or ridiculous, or -

Maggie turned fully around, now. “You drew my name, too?”

“Um. Yes. Merry Christmas?”

Maggie laughed. Alex tried not to hate how much she loved that sound.

“You’re not a party person? Fine. Take this -” Alex held out the package Maggie had pressed into her hands without looking at it. “And bring it to the bar tonight, before the party. We’ll exchange our gifts then. Okay?”

“Okay.”

+++

“You didn’t only enter my name in the damn pool, you arranged it so Alex and I would pull each other’s names?”

“Maggie, I really have no idea what you’re going on about, but I’d love it if you put some of those motorcycle mechanic skills to use on the ice machine right now,” M’gann said without looking at her, keeping her eyes on the garland she was stringing along the tops of the bar.

She thought about arguing with her only friend - well, maybe except Alex Danvers - in National City. She thought better of it, and contented herself to muttering under her breath while she fixed the ice machine and waited for Alex.

At least it gave her something to do.

“So you’re the person we all have to thank when M’gann can put ice in our drinks?”

Alex’s voice made her jump so hard she hit her head on the damn machine.

“Oh, Maggie, no, I’m sorry, come here.”

Before she could so much as say “ow,” Alex’s hands were on her, tracing the spot where Maggie had banged her forehead, so gently it was easy to forget how easily - and happily - this woman carried a gun.

Because of course - she was a doctor, too. Why wouldn’t she be a little bit of everything intoxicating?

“I’m okay, Danvers.”

“You’re okay when I say you’re okay,” Alex muttered, almost more to herself than to Maggie. But there was a small smile on her lips.

“Alright then. You think I’ll make it, doc?”

“Only time will tell. But you’re good enough for now to at least give me my present.”

Maggie hated the way it felt when Alex took her hands away from her. She would gladly conk her head and dignity on an ice machine every day if it meant Alex’s hands on her. Well. Maybe there were less painful ways... no. No no no nope. Just a gift exchange. Nothing more.

“So it’s pretty silly, really, but you said you miss the beach. So um.”

Maggie shoved the small package back into Alex’s hands and pretended not to hold her breath.

It turned out that watching Alex’s eyes mist over with the sensation of home was all Maggie wanted to do, like... ever.

“You like it?” she asked. Her voice didn’t sound like her own, but it also had never sounded more like her.

“Maggie,” Alex whispered. Maggie gulped, and smiled - because yeah, she’d actually done a pretty cool job.

It was a snow globe - sort of. Sand globe? Something.

She’d commissioned Brian to make it - the artistry he pulled off planet tended to look like magic on Earth, and that was exactly what she’d been going for - he’d owed her more than a few favors, anyway.

The snow globe was an exact miniature of a beach, complete with seagulls and sand dunes and way too much seaweed accumulating on the shore. She hoped that maybe, it looked like home.

“If you put your hands on the glass, it should transmit -”

“How is that possible?” Alex asked. The awe in her voice told Maggie it was working. Maybe she was the one who owed Brian a favor, now.

Because if the look on Alex’s face was any indication, the sound and smells of the beach were flooding her senses through touching the glass - just like she was there.

“It’s not much, but it’s -”

“It’s perfect. Thank you. Thank you. It’s... you...” Maggie’s heart leapt. Alex cleared her throat. “You’re going to have to explain exactly how it works to me.”

“Nerd.”

“Wait!” Alex set the globe down reverently, reluctantly, it seemed, which made Maggie happier than she’d care to admit. “Your turn.”

She gingerly placed a little red bag onto the table between them, looking anywhere but Maggie’s eyes as she opened it.

“Do you like it?” Alex asked, way too soon. Because speaking was not something Maggie remembered how to do, just then.

It was a Triumph, a perfect little replica, with gears that Maggie could already tell actually worked. With a license plate that spelled home, with an earth label instead of a particular state. Maggie held it close to her face, examining it with a reverence she didn’t know how to explain.

“It works, of course. There’s a neural link, in the bag, that you can just kind of put on your temple, and you can drive it around with your thoughts, sort of. It’ll connect to your real life one, too, in case you ever need your bike to come to you. And it says home, you know, as planet earth instead of just one state because yeah, it can be really lonely to feel like nowhere is home, but I don’t want you to feel alone, or lonely, and it also means that you’re your own home, and that’s actually pretty badass, and amazing, because if you were my home, that would be amazing, and oh my God please make me stop talking now -”

“Danvers.”

“Oh, thank Rao.”

“Why did you do this for me?”

“Because you’re my Secret Santa?”

“Danvers.”

“Sawyer.”

Maggie wanted to ask if she could kiss her. She wanted to ask if she could kiss her, and not stop, and take her home, and kiss her some more. She wanted to ask if she could show her exactly how perfect she found Alex’s ridiculous rambling, how perfect she found... her.

She wanted to ask, but this was good, this was amazing, and if she asked, it would ruin everything, and -

And then Alex’s lips were on hers, because Alex Danvers was nothing if not act first, talk later.

A whoop from across the bar sounded suspiciously both like Supergirl and Alex’s kid sister Kara. She smiled into Alex’s mouth.

“This is okay?” Alex asked, shyer than Maggie had ever heard her.

“Yes.”

“The present was good then?”

“The present isn’t why I’m kissing you, Danvers.”

Alex pulled back. “So it wasn’t good?”

“Oh my God, Alex, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

She leaned her forehead onto Alex’s, because as much as she needed to keep kissing her, she also needed to breathe.

But it was the holidays, and they had motorcycles and beaches and each other, and there would be time for all of it.

“Worked better than mistletoe,” she thought she heard M’gann mutter, and honestly, she couldn’t disagree.

#sanvers #sanvers fic #sanvers holidays #oh wow it's been a while #fuck now this song is in my head #anyway #remember all this?

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writing-gifts · 3 years

Text

datura (moth!bruno x butterfly!reader)

—–

A/N: a pretty chill chapter!

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Reader is gender neutral!

—–

[Early Winter]

The first few days at Bruno’s home are disorienting. Your sleep schedule was already poor for a diurnal creature, but staying with the moth was pushing it one step further to full nocturnal. Even when you would try to sleep at night like you were supposed to, the sound of Bruno and Narancia moving throughout the house would sometimes wake you up.

Along with that, where Bruno’s home was located and because of the weather, daylight felt like it lasted a tick within the actual span of the day. You could see but it felt darker than your home on an overcast day. So even though you naturally felt more alert in the day, there was always a tiny feeling of needing to go to sleep within you.

On the brightside, you could spend more time with the moth this way. It had only been a few days but the both of you had gotten closer--in the non-platonic sense--ever since you kissed. You loved it and sometimes it felt too good to be true. But at the same time, even if you try to push it down, you still feel unsure. What exactly were the two of you now? You were partners, right?

You had to be. Now that the fully platonic barrier was gone, you both were always touching. Whether it was holding hands, cuddling or just leaning against one another. And between the flirty quips and the teasing looks, you would kiss...a lot. It was nice.

While thinking about this, you stare out the bedroom’s small window as you lie in bed. Only your face is exposed in the blanket cocoon you put yourself in.

Today you had woken up while there was still light out but were reluctant to actually get up. When you first woke up you literally felt like you couldn’t, but now suddenly the bed felt too empty. And the small image you see of the snow piled up outside makes you rethink staying in bed. It must have snowed a good amount while you were asleep.

You yawn. Abilene momentarily pops into your head and you wonder what they’re up to. They were definitely up way before you that’s for sure. You hope they were keeping extra warm.

It takes a moment but when you finally force yourself out of your covers, you immediately think to go outside. In fact, the alluring and bright beauty of the snow almost has you running out of the house completely unprotected from the cold. You barely stop yourself and head back into Bruno’s room to grab one of your blankets and put on a pair of shoes.

After slipping the simple shoes on, you let your wings droop so you can wrap the blanket around yourself.

You head back to the main room and quietly open the door to avoid waking up either Bruno or Narancia. Walking out, you shut the door behind you. You had barely been outside since you arrived here so it was nice to get some fresh air.

Shuddering the moment the cold hits you, you wrap yourself completely with the covers and take in your surroundings. The snow had piled up a good amount, And you wonder if Bruno had moved the snow out of the way earlier since the ground in front of the door lacked any.

You climb up the small slope of snow to get a better view. Everything felt brighter with the fresh layer of white everywhere. You even found that you could see farther into the distance between all the trees.

For some reason you get the urge to touch the snow on the ground under you, but immediately pull your hand back when you feel a sharp chill shoot up your arm. Snow was pretty to look at but not nice to touch which you already knew, but every year you’d find yourself making the same mistake. However, you were still hoping to eat ice cream later in the season.

You wander around a bit in front of the house before stopping in a spot where more light manages to break through the bare branches of the trees. It must get extremely dark in this area when the trees are full of leaves.

Time escapes you and you don't realize how long you’re outside until you try to move your leg and your knee is almost locked in place. Your eyes widen and you immediately shuffle back to the house with your stiff limbs, almost slipping down the slope in the process.

Once you’re inside, you accidentally bump the door closed too loudly with your body but continue to awkwardly move forward.

So cold, holy crap! Need more covers.

Before you can even leave the main room Bruno walks in. His eyes immediately take in your strange stance and he gives you a confused look..

You'd jump if you could. “Y-You're awake?”

“I had a feeling I heard the door close shut.”

You internally sigh at your carelessness.

“You're shivering really bad. Are you okay?”

"I m-m-might have gone outside f-f-for a tick or m-more."

Bruno gives you the most exasperated look you've seen in awhile before pinching the bridge of his nose. But right after, he reaches out towards you.

“Come here.”

You move towards him and he leads you over to the giant open space in the middle of the main room and gently prompts you to sit down on the rug.

"Be right back.”

You rub your legs and try to bend them as you wait for the moth to return. When he does, he has many of your blankets and pillows within his arms. You watch as he unfolds a few of the covers on the ground which you crawl onto while he places the pillows against the front of the couch. Once the moth’s done, he sits down and motions you over so he can pull you against him. He then covers you both with the rest of the blankets before leaning back against the pillows.

“Is this okay?”

“Y-Yea.” You felt less cold but it might take more time for your body to warm up to a comfortable temperature.

Suddenly Bruno’s body begins to vibrate rapidly.

“W-What?”

He rests his head in the crook of your neck. “This will warm you up a little quicker.”

“Oh, o-okay.”

You both sit there for a while and the vibrating starts to lull you to sleep. The combined warmth of his body and sweater was just too cozy for you, and you weren’t going to try to keep your eyes open if you didn’t have to.

You wiggle in Bruno's arms and the moth gives you a questioning hum.

“Just changing positions. I feel like I’m going to fall asleep on you any second…”

You turn so you can properly lay against Bruno's chest and press your face against the fluff around his neck that was sticking out from his sweater.

So soft.

Bruno’s arms close around you again once you're situated and you sigh. It was partially one of content but also a bit of uncertainty. You wouldn't say you weren't enjoying this but you still had that one worry in your mind.

You lightly play with his fur. "....Are we doing this as friends?"

You knew what you were saying was absolutely ridiculous but you weren’t sure how to ask what you wanted without sounding awkward. Where did both you and Bruno stand after that kiss? You’re enjoying how much closer you two had become over the last couple days but you need a straightforward answer to completely relax.

"____."

"Yea?"

"I need to tell you something--"

Before Bruno can finish, Narancia suddenly runs into the room. He yells before jumping onto you which forces a grunt from your throat. He was definitely heavier than you look.

Bruno looks down at his son. "Narancia why did you do that?"

"I wanna be--I wanna join too!"

You move from your comfortable position so the little bee can properly lay against you. “At least I'm fully awake now.” You yawn. “Kinda”

Narancia looks up at you. “Are you guys married now?”

You almost choke on your own spit from the sudden question. Well you couldn't blame him. You and Bruno weren't exactly conspicuous with your affections.

You look at the moth and he answers for you. "Well we aren't married but, maybe one day. If ____ wants to."

You struggle to keep yourself from gawking.

The bee nods in understanding. You wish you could accept things as easily as children did.

You want to ask Bruno to further elaborate on that but Narancia starts an enthusiastic conversation with you about flowers. The bee wasn’t able to visit them on his own yet but he seemed quite excited too.

“Do you have any favorite flowers Narancia?” you ask.

He mules it over for a moment. “I like the big ones.”

“Like a sunflower?”

He tilts his head. “What’s that?”

You raise a brow a bit surprised.

“There's no sunflowers around here,” Bruno chimes in.

You nod. To find them you have to go to an open field, so there must not be any nearby. And you remember Bruno saying that carrying Narancia could be troublesome.

“How about I take you to see some in the Summer? They love the sun, hence the name. But you have to promise you won’t move too much when I carry you okay?”

God forbid the bee managed to squirm out of your grip.

The bee nods enthusiastically.

All three of you keep one another company in your pile of blankets and pillows. But eventually Narancia starts to get restless from listening to you and Bruno talk about “boring adult stuff” and runs off to his room.

You lay on your stomach on the ground and look at Bruno. You can tell that the moth was ready for bed.

"You can go to sleep, you know."

"I’m not that tired--" he yawns.

"Sure you're not."

"Well I am but I want to spend more time with you."

You weren't completely used to such sweet words so you aren't able to respond right away.

“...I do too, but I’m going to be here after you wake up. Unless I go to sleep right after.”

“I’ll try to wake up in the afternoon before that happens,” Bruno says. He leans over and presses kiss on your cheek.

You lay there once Bruno leaves and you feel yourself drifting off until Narancia runs in with a container of blocks to play with you. It mainly consisted of you trying to build something and the bumblebee knocking it over though.

You spend up until almost noon playing with him and trying to keep him entertained. At that point he wants to go outside, which you were honestly hoping to avoid but you suck it up and agree.

After dressing yourself up properly, making sure to protect your hands and layer up, you help Narancia dress himself too before heading outside.

You hug yourself as you watch Narnacia run around and play with the cold snow. He squats down and makes a small pile from it before turning to you.

“Let’s make a snowbug!”

Oh jeez.

Even though you rather not mess with the snow after your brief contact earlier today, you nod. It would be fun. Probably.

You ignore the cold of the snow through your gloves and help Narancia start the head for the snowbug before you move on to rolling up the body. Once Narancia is done with the head he helps you with the body.

After moving the body to a good spot, according to Narancia, you move to find the head but can’t.

“Narancia where’s the head?”

“There...” he points to a weirdly shaped pile of snow on the ground.

You walk up to it and raise a brow. “Um...What happened to it?”

The bee looks off to the side. “I tried bu’ it wasn't round. An’ when I tried to fix it, it fell apart…”

You nod, “That’s okay let’s remake it now.”

You help start it again and have the bee roll it up again, coming in to help when necessary so the shape would stay spherical.

“Okay now roll it closer to the body so I can put it on top.”

Once Narancia rolls it over, you pick it up and place it on top of the body. The snowbug is now at least a head taller than the bee.

“Now we decorate it.”

“Can we pu’ a scarf so he won’t be cold?”

You chuckle a bit. “Sure. Do you have an extra one?”

The bee nods before running inside. While he’s gone you look for something you can use as the arms. While you're looking, Narancia comes back with a white scarf speckled with blacks dots.

“That looks good, help me find something for the eyes and mouth too!”

With that Narancia runs back inside.

You keep looking around and find some long dead grass sticking out of the snow next to the trunk of a tree. You go over and feel it. It was hard and thin so you surmise that it’ll be good for the arms. You yank out 2 pieces and break each one in half to create 4 arms. You also grab another one to make the bug’s antenna.

After sticking the arms in the body of the snowbug and the antenna into the top of the head, Narancia finally returns.

“Here!” He holds out something in his little hands to you.

“Thanks--Wait these are my buttons.”

The bee smiles at you and you shake your head but take them to create the face of your snowy creation. Slightly crouching, you grin a bit at the different color buttons making up the eyes and smile. It was kind of cute.

“I wanna pu’ the scarf!” Narancia exclaims.

You lift him up so he can better reach the neck area and he wraps the scarf around the snowbug.

Afterwards, you back up a bit to get a good look at you and the bee's creation. “He came out pretty good!”

“His name is Jon!”

“That’s a good name Narancia.”

And he smiles even wide at your praise.

You hug yourself and rub your arms. “Okay let's go inside, I don’t think my limbs can take anymore of this.”

-----

When Bruno and Narancia were asleep you'd spend most of the day working on some type of clothing. Your main focus was Bruno’s top though since you didn't want him to see it before it was done. You had been nervous to start on it but you didn't want to be stuck making little squares forever.

You hold out what you had so far in front of your lantern. It was barely anything and you had spent so long on it. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to put sleeves on it or not either…Other than the color you had pick--black--you weren’t really sure about anything.

"What are you making?"

You bring the lace close to your chest before turning towards the moth behind you. “Nothing!”

"Is it another top? It looks really intricate.”

You ignore the moth's curious tone. You mentioned making a top for him offhandedly but you wanted this to be a surprise more than you wanted to show off.

“It's nothing. You really need to stop sneaking up on me.”

"Okay mio amor keep your secrets."

Bruno smiles playfully at you but you just pout and put the lace out of sight in your satchel. It was getting dark anyways and your eyes were starting to hurt

You turn your attention back to Bruno. “What’s up?”

"I saw that Narancia is still in bed, and I was wondering if you want to read with me? If you're not tired that is."

“Oh that sounds nice!” You get up to do a couple stretches since you've been sitting down for so long.

"What are we reading? A romance?"

"Yeah, Abilene actually lent it to me."

Your smile becomes slightly tense knowing how some of the stuff they read could…get. Hopefully it's nothing too out there.

Bruno places the lantern a bit closer to the couch before making himself comfortable and beckoning you over. You decide to sit next to him but the moth looks at you.

"It would be easier to sit on my lap you know?"

You laugh a bit awkwardly from not sitting there in the first place but move onto his lap.

Bruno opens the book and you relax into his chest. The warmth coming off his body has any tension leaving you.

"How are you so warm all the time? It’s too relaxing..." You rub a hand against the soft wool of his sweater’s sleeve. For a split moment you think about cuddling up to him when you sleep in bed.

Bruno places an arm in front of you. “As long as you're comfortable.”

“Yea, but I don't want to drift off too quickly.”

The story starts off relatively normal, and you and Bruno quietly read together while you silently signaled when he could turn the page. But as you get further the expected supernatural elements kick in. You almost want to cover your face at the more explicit parts but push through genuinely invested in the plot.

Suddenly, you burst out laughing. “Abby why?”

"What?” Bruno asks. You seemed to have surprised him with your laugh.

"It’s just that this is so ridiculous. I still like the story but come on!”

Other than the transformations and dead coming alive, the miscommunication seems almost fantastical. Looking from the outside in, it seemed so easy to avoid.

“It’s a little frustrating isn't it.” Bruno says.

You hum. “Yea but I can't pretend I’m above it though.” It made for good drama and interesting situations.

As the two of you continue the book, you end up moving positions multiple times. And by the time you're really struggling to stay awake, you're almost laying completely on top of the moth.

Your head rests against his chest as he reads outloud to you since you were having a hard time keeping up with the words.

Bruno softly touches your back. “____?”

You grunt, half awake.

“Are you still listening?”

“...Yea, the mantis is about to risk a one night stand with another cannibalistic mantis.”

“...What?”

“Oh wait, maybe I half dreamt that.”

Bruno closes the book. "Okay, we are going to bed."

"Nooo, I don't want to move."

"We can't sleep on the couch."

You pout but reluctantly get up from your comfortable spot on the moth to make your way, along with your lantern, to Bruno's room. Once you're there you immediately place the lantern down and flop on top of the bed.

Bruno comes in a moment afterward.

"Don't you want to change into something more comfortable?"

You half reply mumbling something incorrehent.

Bruno sighs and walks over to you removing your scarf off your neck. He then carefully helps you out of your sweater struggling a bit to get your wings through since you won't sit up.

"I'll just leave the rest of my stuff on."

You crawl up farther into the bed before getting under the covers and resting your head on your pillow. You then watch Bruno fold up your clothing before placing it on top of the dresser. Before he can leave the room though you call out to him.

Bruno stops at the door frame and turns towards you in question.

“Um, are you going to bed?

It was quite late. So you would probably end up sleeping until late morning the next day.

“Not just yet but you don't need to worry and force yourself awake tomorrow. I'll just sleep in Narancia’s room until you wake up.”

“Well…”

You struggle to finish your sentence though. You want him to stay but was it okay for you two to share the bed already?

You barely dwell on that question though.

Who were you kidding? You didn't care if it was appropriate or not. You didn't want to sleep alone. And there was no point forcing Bruno into Narancias room when his giant bed could easily fit the two of you!

”I want to share...the bed,” you mutter quietly.

Bruno’s brows raise. “Sorry mio amor can you repeat that, I couldn't hear.”

You give him an unamused look when you realise what he’s doing, but he simply smiles and waits patiently for you to repeat yourself.

“I want to share the bed with you!”

“Oh, that's what I thought I heard just wanted to make sure.” He walks up to you and presses a kiss to your furrowed brow and you immediately relax your face.

The moth makes his way over to the floor length mirror and you watch him take out his hair clips and undo his braid.

“Your hair looks nice like that you know.”

“Really?” His fingers comb through parts of his hair.

“Yep! You look cute.”

He removes his fingers from his hair. “Well I guess I can leave it like this for now then.”

Bruno goes to take off his sweater and you immediately look away, but then you remember that you have seen him shirtless for most of the time you’ve known him. Something about this felt more private though.

“What’s wrong?” Bruno asks when he sees you looking off to the side quietly.

You struggle to explain though.

Realization dawns on the moth though from your few mumbled words and he chuckles. “You're so cute.”

“I know, I k--wait no, I thought you were going to say something else...”

Once Bruno gets in bed, you reach up and twirl some of the wavy strands of his hair as he looks down at you from his sitting position.

“____ I need to tell you something.”

You hum dropping your hand and doing your best to keep yourself from falling asleep just yet.

“I know it's not very romantic. But I guess when I’m with you I feel a little more impulsive. I really like you, and I want us to be together….as mates.”

That gets rid of some of the sleepiness you feel and you feel your face getting hot.

“I should have said this sooner. I don't want to pressure you into anything--”

“Bruno I've been all over you since I got here, you would definitely not be pressuring me.” You sit up. “I--I’m actually really happy! I really like you too! It’s dumb but, I’ve liked you for so long--”

This was the first time you'd seen the moth look flushed and it was sight to behold. A giant part of you already wants to cause it to happen more.

Bruno gently grabs your hand when he realizes you're looking at him and clears his throat slightly before smiling at you.

“Now I’m kind of curious mio amor. How long, if you don't mind me asking?”

You grimace a bit looking away from the moth. “It’s kind of embarrassing...But kinda first sight. I thought it was a silly crush that would go away but it just got more intense. It got really bad in Fall.”

Bruno massages the back of your hand with his thumb.

“What about you?” you ask.

“I’m not exactly sure when they started but I realized I felt feelings that were different than platonic in Fall after you got hurt.”

You nod. Part of you wonders how Bruno reacted when he found out what happened from Abbacchio, but most of you was okay with not knowing.

“...Now I have to give that season more credit.” You give the moth a small smile which he returns. “I’m glad that's out of the way now. Now I can clearly call you my mate.” You giggle, feeling a little giddy.

You can't keep down the smile on your face even if you wanted to.

“Ready for bed?”

You nod. “...You can shut off the lantern if you want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yea, I know light like that can be distracting to fall asleep too.”

Bruno shuts your lantern, and you find yourself not minding the dark so much when he pulls you into his arms and you stare into his glowing eyes.

Your fingers feel at the soft hair at the back of his neck. Apparently, you couldn’t stop yourself from playing with his hair. “Are you even tired Bruno?”

“Not really but that's okay, I just want to lay here with you.”

Your chest thrills from the words. “...How do you say things like this so easily?”

“There’s no shame in what I feel for you. And I want you to know these feelings.”

You yawn and shut your eyes. “I...I hope I can be more like that...one day.”

“Well, you did ask me to get in bed with you.”

“But...that was so...hard.”

“We just got together so give it some time. And either way, you show you care in your own way.”

The moth presses a quick on your lips and you sleepily grin.

“Goodnight ____.”

#idk what long fic to pic up next #or go back to after this #we aint in kansas is just staring at me waiting for me to give it a proper outline lol #bruno buccellati x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno x reader #jjba x reader #reader insert

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