#i've got about... two one shots well on their way to being written

[thlayli-ra]

Prompt:

Punkintyre fucking in Cody's dressing room since they nearly got caught it the hallway (maybe it's the day before or of a ppv) and Cody is never in his dressing room. Drew and Punk trying to stay quiet, and they manage to not attract attention despite their activities, until Cody and Roman (Or Randy if you prefer Candy) walk in clearly about to use Cody's dressing room for the exact same thing as Punkintyre.

(I personally think Roman would be funnier since Drew/Punk could get all pissy about Cody banging him:

Punkintyre: ROMAN?? SERCOISLY?! HE'S THE WORST! YOU CAN'T BANG SOMEONE WHO YOU FOUGHT AT WRESTLEMAINA, WHO ATTACKS YOU, WHO INTERFEARS IN YOUR MATCHES?!

CodyRoman: :/

I just think they're funny)

Anyway, love your writing/Art, keep up the great work! I hope you enjoy their Hell In A Cell match <3

Whelp! The same day I tell my brain not to get distracted, I get this amazing prompt and immediately get distracted 😅

I've written Dead Dove Punkintyre, heart-warming hurt/comfort Punkintyre - now it's time to get a little silly with these two. **Warning** - Punk being the ultimate little shit incoming...

Rating - Mature (18+)

Words - ~3k words

'Were you under the ring the whole fucking time?'

Punk blinked up innocently at Drew who was looking more than a little hot and flustered. 'The signal aint great,' he replied with a cute shrug as he held up his phone, pointing to the app that was currently open on the screen. 'I had to be close by for it to work.'

'You mean, you wanted to be close by,' Drew shot back, seeing right through the tattooed man's lies, 'so that you could listen in while you tormented me.'

'And you did so well,' Punk cooed. 'Nobody would have a clue.'

'Please, please tell me you didn't go live on Instagram this time?'

'I didn't, I swear,' Punk put up his hands before muttering under his breath, 'stupid apps wouldn't let me use them at the same time.'

All of a sudden, Drew's entire face scrunched up and he nearly collapsed in on himself. Quickly, he put his meaty arm against the wall for support.

'Oh?' Punk tilted his head to the side, a cocky smirk rising up one cheek. 'You feeling ok there, Big Boy?'

Drew grunted a blasphemy in reply. 'Turn it down.'

'Turn what down?' Punk bent low in order to see the harrowing expression on Drew's face.

'The thing! The damn thing!' Drew pleaded, screwing his eyes shut.

'Turn the damn thing down, what?'

'Fuck you! FUCK YOU!'

'Tut tut,' Punk shook his head and looked back at his phone. 'You know what happens when you disrespect Daddy?'

Drew's brow shot up when he saw Punk's finger slide up the screen. 'NO! WAIT! GAARRRGGHH!' The large Scot fell against the wall, needing both hands to hold himself upright.

'Damn!' Punk's huge green eyes glistened impishly and he practically giggled with glee. He could actually hear the damn thing vibrating like crazy in Drew's trunks. 'It sure packs a punch, huh?'

'TURN IT DOWN! PLEASE! FOR THE LOVE OF THE WEE MAN! TURN IT DOWN OR I'M GOING TO-'

'Shhh!' Punk scolded the Scot, glancing around him. 'You want the entire backstage to hear you?'

'GAH! FUCK! FUUUUU-'

'Dammit!' Punk grabbed Drew by his large shoulders and shoved him down the hallway, away from prying eyes and ears. Heading the first door they passed, he looked inside and found the small locker room empty. 'Here, get in.' Pushing the writhing Scot inside, Punk pulled the door shut. Now that they were safely hidden away, he could focus on torturing his victim even more. 'You can't take a little teasing, you big baby?'

'YOU HAVE THAT THING TURNED ALL THE WAY UP! DON'T YOU?!'

"Don't be dramatic,' Punk scoffed. 'Of course I don't have- oh, wait, yeah I do. Whoops!' He used his finger to slide the curser on his screen down, but only by a tiny margin. Just enough for Drew to stop yelling but still enough to keep his breath coming in those juicy little gasps. 'That better?'

'You little shitebag,' Drew cursed through his gritted teeth.

'What happened to all that self-control in the ring out there?' Punk asked, sidling up to the Scot who was soaked through with sweat, and not just from the exertions of his match. 'Is it cause I'm here now?'

'You wish that- hrrfff!' Drew's words were savagely cut off by Punk's hand grabbing the front of his trunks, fingers curling tightly around his rock-hard cock and balls...

..and the solid silicone ring around the base of his dick!

'Ooh, there it is!' Punk's eyes lit up with mischief. Using his thumb, he slid the curser up and down so that he could feel the difference in vibrations, grinning from ear to ear as Drew's whimpering kicked up into desperate whines and back down again, allowing the suffering Scot to steady his senses for a few seconds. Before jamming it all the way back up again.

'FUCK! FUCK! FU-'

Punk felt a throbbing down south and couldn't resist anymore. Grabbing Drew by the back of his head, he yanked him down to his height and muffled his howls by shoving his tongue into his open mouth. He hummed joyfully as he invaded the warm cavity, giving Drew some vibrations above to match the ones below, and entangled his inked fingers in his wet hair.

A rumble tingled Punk's lips, not from his own throat but from Drew's. He had finally awoken the Scot's inner beast! Large hands grabbed him by the thighs, lifting him clean off his feet and he was slammed against the wall. Drew thrusted his aching groin between Punk's legs, the vibrations of his cock ring now shuddering through the denim of Punk's jeans to excite his own dick.

'Shhhhhhhiiiitttt,' Punk choked out, the strength of the sensation between his legs almost blinding.

'How'd you like that, ye wee prick!' Drew snarled in Punk's ear, ruthlessly pinning the smaller man's groin with his own.

Inked fingers clawed at Drew's naked shoulder blades, ragged nails digging in as the fierce convulsions pulsed through them both. Overcome with animalistic desire, Drew began to dry-hump the older man, growling at every distressed yelp from his trapped victim.

Until-

'What was that?' Punk lifted his head, eyes wide and ears pricked. Drew hadn't noticed and was still grinding his hips against him. 'Drew! Stop! Someone's coming!'

The Scot finally paused. In the silence, they both heard voices right outside the door.

'Shit!' Punk swore as the handle to the door began to turn. He wriggled free from Drew's grasp. 'In here. Quick, you idiot!' Grabbing Drew by the wrist, he pulled him towards a closet in the corner and managed to squeeze them both in right before the door opened. The two men held their breaths as the voices became clearer, drawing closer.

'I meant what I said,' the first voice said, footsteps stomping into the room, 'I'm done with the Bloodline.'

Inside the closet, Punk gulped loudly. He knew that voice. It was Cody Rhodes! And going purely by the sound of the hefty footsteps following him, he was most likely with his work husband, Randy Orton. Or maybe Kevin Owens?

'So you keep sayin',' a deep, rich voice answered, 'but I'm not buyin' it. Nobody is!'

Punk's jaw just about dropped to the floor. That wasn't Orton. Or Owens.

It was Roman fucking Reigns!

'I don't care what anybody thinks,' Cody snapped back. 'I have been fighting the Bloodline in one variation or another since I returned to the WWE. I've watched them hurt the people I care about, I've endured all the punishment they've inflicted on me, that you inflicted on me. I have bled because of you and your family.'

There was a pause. Tension filled the air so thick it could be sliced with a knife. Punk imagined the two men were standing chest-to-chest and feverishly wished there was a slit or keyhole or something in this closet door he could peep through to watch the action. Instead all he had was a six foot five, quivering Scotsman jamming all four giant limbs into him.

'Can you just-' he hissed at Drew but clammed shut when Cody started talking again. Low this time, quiet. Oh, it was getting serious. Punk pressed his left ear against the door - his bad ear but it would have to do - to hear what he had to say.

'Far as I'm aware, I beat Solo Sikoa in Berlin. I beat the Tribal Chief-'

'He is not the Tribal Chief! He may wear the Ula Fala but that man is an imposter!'

'That's your problem, not mine!'

'You are the WWE Champion!' Roman lets his words hang in the air. 'When you won that belt from me, you made a promise to change the WWE for the better. To lead us all-'

'You were the one who made the mess in the first place.'

'I know...' Roman's voice turned small. Defeated. 'I just... want to fix it.'

Punk pressed his ear tighter against the door. Damn his partial deafness! And Drew wasn't helping with his constant whimpering. Two large fingers tugged at his sleeveless shirt, trying to pry his attention away from the other men outside. 'Get off,' he scolded Drew.

The Scotsman gave a pathetic whine.

'Shush!'

'P-Puuuunk!'

'Shut up! Or else they'll hear you.'

There was a long, drawn out silence, a shuffling of feet. By the time Cody spoke again, his tone has softened. 'You have your chance to fix it now. You're back! Go, take down the Bloodline. For good.'

'But, I can't do this alone,' a squeak of a sneaker. Punk guessed that Roman had stepped closer to Cody. 'I've never done anything on my own. Please, Cody. I need you!'

'Puuuuunk.'

'Will you just shut the fuck up!'

God he wished he could see. He was certain that Roman had his arm out, hand cupping Cody's blushing cheek. He knew that sweet sight well. Punk always loved how his pink cheeks contrasted beautifully with his platinum blonde hair.

Cody heaved a sigh. There was a slight shake to it, like he had been caught off-guard. Punk licked his dry lips and used all of his energy to focus. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend,' he said finally. 'Right?'

'Right,' Roman replied, his tone warmer, like he was smiling. 'Anyway, you remember how it was when we feuded. We were good together.'

'We were good together,' the champion had turned a little hoarse. Just exactly how close was Reigns to him right at that second? Punk was dying to know!

Another tug at his shirt. 'Puuuunk. Pleeeasseeee!'

'I swear to Jeebus, if you say one more word, I'm gonna- woah!' Punk had finally turned around to look at Drew and was shocked to see the scarlet face on the larger man, beads of sweat as big as bullets raining down his brow. He suddenly remembered the toy on his cock and the high-pitched buzz filtered back into his range of hearing. 'Oh fuck, I forgot!'

'T-turn it d-down. P-p-please. I'm going to, I'm so close to-'

'Don't you fucking dare!' Punk warned the Scot, frantically searching his pockets. 'Not before I have a chance to-'

Both men jumped a foot when a long clatter boomed out right next to them. Something had smashed into the other side of the closet door. No, wait, not something. The mumbled moans and loud slurps betrayed the culprits as Roman and Cody, making out sloppy style right there on the other side of the thin wood.

Punk turned to Drew in disbelief, mouthing 'holy shit' to the other man. Drew could only reply with a pained grimace.

'Damn, I've missed this,' Roman's voice rumbled, only an inch or two away from the stowaways. 'You always taste so good.'

Cody was breathless already. 'So... so everybody keeps telling me.'

'Is this an expensive suit?'

'No. Why?'

The sound of fabric being shredded bucked life back between Punk's legs. The blood drained from his head, rushing down south fast, making his jeans all the tighter. Then his shirt was tugged again.

'Daddy?'

Oh, fuck! Drew was desperate now! Why now? Why call him that now? When Punk was starting to ache horribly himself but couldn't do a damn thing about it.

'Daddy! P-please h-help me.'

'I'm trying! I'm trying!' he hissed back, sliding his hands into every one of the pockets of his jeans, struggling to fit his inked fingers between the too-taut denim and coming up empty.

Punk went still.

Horrible realisation dawning on him.

Drew arched his brows wretchedly at him, his blue eyes swelling with dread.

'D-daddy?'

Punk slowly met his gaze, lips pursed tight. 'I... don't have my phone,' he whispered fearfully. 'I must have dropped it when-'

Another clatter against the door and both men backed away, wedging themselves as far back into the tiny space as they could. The wood slammed again and again, rhythmic. Punk's brain went into a spin when he recognised the sound of two men fucking one another like wild animals.

Meanwhile Drew let out a pitiful squeal of his own, the intensity on his cock too much to bear. Punk rushed towards him, ramming both of his hands over Drew's mouth. 'Shhhh, hold on. Just... hold on a little longer.'

The rhythmic banging intensified, punctuated by deep strains of Roman's grunts and higher tones of Cody's gasps. All while Drew's warm dog breath fogged on Punk's hands, the buzzing seemingly getting louder, like a swarm of angry hornets surrounding them. Punk was pressed so tightly against Drew that he could feel the sensation of the cock ring on his stomach, jiggling his lower gut like jelly. On a hydraulic drill. During a mag 9 earthquake!

He grit his teeth, tried to fight back against the growth in his jeans but was failing miserably. How the fuck had Drew's dick not exploded from this fucking thing yet?

The Scot was dangerously close though. Teetering right on the edge. A tear ballooned out the corner of his eye and slid down his cheek.

'No! Drew! No!'

Suddenly Punk's hands were useless. Drew's bellows breaking through the inked fingers.

'The fuck was that?'

Punk's heart skipped a beat. They'd been rumbled!

Ten seconds later, the door was wrenched open, light hitting the two accidental voyeurs concealed inside the closet. 'Punk? Is that you? And... Drew?'

The Scot let out a final strangled wail followed by a long, drawn-out groan of relief. His large legs went slack and he slumped to the floor, back pressed into the corner of the closet and head lolled.

'Oh for fuck's sake, Drew,' Punk kicked one floppy tree-trunk leg with the toe of his sneaker. 'You fucking, pathetic-'

'Eh-hem!'

Punk looked up sheepishly at Cody and Roman. Both men were in a dishevelled state, like they had only had enough time to zip up their flies after the interruption. Cody's shirt was torn apart and his cheeks rosy. Roman was panting, his shoulders heaving.

Punk crossed his arms and lowered his brow. 'Yeah?' he glowered at the pair. 'Can I help you?'

'Well, yeah!' Cody replied incredulously. 'You can tell me what you're doing here.'

'We were here first,' he shot back with a shrug. 'What are you doing here?'

'It's my locker room.'

Punk squinted at him, confused. 'Your locker room?'

'It has my name right there on the door!'

'Oh,' Punk withered. 'I... did not see that.'

'Punk,' Cody scrubbed a hand through his hair with a sigh, 'what are you doing hiding in my locker room, with Drew McIntyre of all people?'

The tattooed man bristled at the question. 'What am I doin'-? What about you? What are you doin'? What would Randy say if he found out you were sleeping with the enemy?'

'You're the one fucking Drew McIntyre!'

'Hey! We were not fucking!' Punk protested before quickly returning the conversation back to Cody and Roman. 'And anyway, come on! Roman fucking Reigns? The guy made your life hell? You faced him at Wrestlemania, twice! He attacked you for crying out loud!'

'Drew McIntyre smashed your face into a metal door and left you a bloodied corpse in your own home town!'

'Roman had his third cousin, thrice removed, through wedlock or however the fuck Dwayne is related to him, beat you to the floor and whip you senseless with a leather belt.'

'Oh... my god!' Cody screamed into his hands. 'Are you even listening to yourself right now? Are the concussions finally catching up with you? Do you even remember what the hell happened in Berlin or have you just lost your damn mind?'

'What did you do to Drew?' Roman's booming voice broke through the two men's bickering and they turned to spy the unresponsive Scot.

'Oh, shit! I forgot! Again!' Punk looked around and spied his phone on the floor close to where Drew had lifted him up earlier but before he could retrieve it, Roman picked it up. 'Hey! Gimme that!'

'Hmm,' Roman cocked an eyebrow as he scanned over the controls on the phone's screen. 'Just-Vibing? What is this?'

'Nothing!' Punk failed miserably at looking innocent.

Roman slid his thumb down the curser and Drew let out a sigh of sweet relief. But as he slid it back up, he tensed up again and thumped his head back against the corner of the closet. Then, when he pressed a button, there was a series of sharp buzzing which Drew gasped with in unison.

'Wait, it pulses?' Punk asked in astonishment. 'I didn't know that!'

'Man, old people with technology!' Cody mocked.

'Shut. Up!'

Roman ignored them and walked over to the ragged Scot. 'Hands up, Puppy,' he said and Drew immediately complied.

'Wait, what?' Punk spluttered out from behind.

'He was mine first,' Roman returned. He dipped two fingers into the studded waistband of Drew's trunks and pulled them back, discovering a wet, sticky mess coating the inside of his gear as well as the brightly coloured silicone ring wrapped around Drew's softened dick. 'You got him a cock-ring?'

'He broke my bracelet, so I told him to buy me a replacement,' Punk shrugged with a mischievous grin. 'Told him he could keep it in his trunks like he used to, you know, for old times sake.'

'It's the same fucking colours too,' Roman rolled his eyes.

'Maybe it's about time he returns it,' Cody side-eyed Punk, slyly.

'Huh?' the tattooed wrestler glanced warily between them. 'What are you-?'

'Good idea,' Roman said, reaching into Drew's trunks and slipping the silicon ring off of him, the Scot purring as he was freed. However, Punk's panic spiked and he tried to back away from the impending danger. 'Here,' Roman tossed Punk's phone to Cody, 'since he sullied your locker room, you get to play with him first.'

'Well, if you insist,' Cody grinned wickedly at Punk, who found himself backed into a corner, Roman and the cum-soaked cockring drawing closer and closer.

'Now, wait, we can all talk about this like gentlemen, right? Guys. Guys???'

[madredhattie]

I really should be asleep but instead I’m picking at various fic WIPs I’ve started up in the last month or so. Dropping a snippet down here because while I’m fond of what it’s about, it doesn’t fit the flow. Be free, little snippet!

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Such as his duties as a Subway Boss.

Just a few weeks ago, he’d officially rejoined the Battle Subway - as a Depot Agent, wearing the olive green uniform. Though Nimbasa City had celebrated the return of its lost Subway Boss with great fanfare (and what a feeling that was, to know that he had been missed by so many!) his ongoing patchwork memory prevented him from returning to his old station immediately. 

It was for the best, really - though setting foot inside Gear Station had felt like sliding into a much loved and worn coat, the sheer volume of everything had proven overwhelming. On top of that readjustment, there were certifications to undergo, hands-on training to fill in the gaps that remained in his mind, and all manner of other safety checks before Ingo could truly resume conducting battles with skilled trainers.

He wore the black conductor’s cap still. It was the one thing Emmet had pulled rank on, a visual reminder to everyone who saw Ingo that one day, the twin brothers would once again conduct the battle lines side by side. It would just take time.

[s-awturn]

Day Off || F1 Grid

cw: nothing but superficiality, cuteness, intimate but not obscene moments, sharing moments, mention of gossip. Just pilots resting

starring: LH44, CS55, CL16, LN4, OP81, MV1

a/n: I had this written a couple of days ago, but Tumblr just "ate" the only file I had and I lost everything. I was so mad I didn't even want to write anymore, but damn, This is too good a HC to waste, so okay, let's try again (remembering to save periodically this time 🫡

LEWIS HAMILTON:

You and Lewis had created a reading list to complete throughout the year, you bet there were about a hundred books on the list, titles ranging from classic literature, biographies, poems, and contemporary literature. Books that you and Lewis wanted to read together or the books you thought the other should read.

So it was common for the two of you to spend the pilot's day off reading in bed while listening to blues or jazz on the speakers. You read together, wrote reviews of the books you read and discussed them.

He was reading Percy Jackson and the Mark of Athena and you were reading Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka.

"So? What did you think?" He asked, marking the page he was on, Lewis had just started the last chapter and you had already finished reading.

"He does go through a metamorphosis and it's extremely unpleasant to imagine, but I've read more unpleasant books," you confessed, putting the book on the bedside table. "Four stars, and you?"

He snorted "Piper is so boring, damn she only knows how to think about Jason and how she doesn't like being the daughter of Aphrodite, so boring"

"God, yes! I don't like her either... Anyway, I'll wait for you to finish, and then we can choose the next one."

"Sure, honey," he kissed her temple and returned to reading just as Etta James began to sing "At Last." You settled into it, petting Roscoe as he lay beside you. This is the best way to enjoy your day off.

CARLOS SAINZ:

Carlos was at a stage where he wanted you to learn golf to play with him, after all the sport was a tradition for him and the Spaniard wanted you to be part of it, but you were terrible. You were really bad at golf, but that didn't make he want to teach you any less.

And well, you didn't like golf either, you didn't understand the sport, the scoring was weird, there were at least half a dozen different clubs and you couldn't even cheer.

But at least the clothes were cute and the cars were cool.

"Let's go, amor, I'll teach you," he said, going to pick you up in the golf cart. Lando, who was accompanying them this time, leaned his body on the golf club, waiting.

"Carlos, I'm terrible at this, you know," you grumbled, taking the bat he offered you. Carlos was a persevering man, you had to admit. He stood behind you, teaching you again how to perform the shot, instructing you to separate your legs and take a deep breath.

"I bet you five bucks she'll throw the ball in the lake"

"Shut up, Lando," you both said.

You followed his instructions and hit the ball...

...that fell into the lake.

"I knew"

"Shut up, Lando"

CHARLES LECLERC:

A day off for Charles meant you would get to visit his favorite spots, from a famous restaurant to a little coffee shop tucked away in a city alley. Sometimes he would take you to the south of France to see some chateau, other times he would just rent a chalet for you to be together in privacy, and you had lost count of how many times they had gone to Italy to see the vineyards and villas on the border with Monaco.

This time, you were preparing for a slightly longer itinerary, you had suggested visiting the Grace Kelly exhibit before heading to the cottage he had rented for the weekend.

"Got everything you need, mon cher?" He asked, wrapping his arms around her waist in a sweet hug.

"It depends, I know we're going to see the Grace Kelly exhibit, but I have no idea where we're going after, you say a cottage and I don't know whether to bring a bikini or coats" you mumbled, looking at her handbag.

"Take both just in case, you know spring can have unpredictable weather"

"Are you saying that so you don't give me a hint about where we're going?" You turned in his arms, facing the pilot. "That's not fair."

"You'll like it, mon ange, I promise"

"At least tell me if it's still in Monaco..." You tried to persuade him, sliding your nails lovingly along his chin, making the Monegasque shiver and let out a heavy breath.

"You're not taking me to the siren song, pretty girl." He gave you a quick kiss and a light slap on your ass before leaving. "We'll leave in fifteen minutes."

LANDO NORRIS:

Lando's downtime with you was spent playing games, you thought it was counterproductive to fuel his competitiveness when he should have been resting, but this routine of games with you made him much calmer and more relaxed when he returned to work. Ironic? Yes, but it worked.

You two played anything, Monopoly, Naval Battle, Game of Life, Detective, W.A.R, Uno, even checkers or cards. Any game was fair game.

The problem is that you got really competitive, your friends even gave up trying to play with you because the game turned into a battlefield.

"You lowlife cheater, did you really throw a +4 at your fiancée?!" You yelled at him, Lando laughed and blew you a kiss before dodging the pillow you threw at him.

"You know how things work, honey. Just because I love you doesn't mean I'm going to let you beat me."

"This will come back!" You bought the four cards he forced you to. "I really hate you."

"And you are the love of my life"

"Die, you jerk," you snapped and he laughed.

Lando could feel all the tension leaving his shoulders, playing with you always made him relax, no matter how aggressive and passionate you became in the game.

OSCAR PIASTRI:

Considering that Oscar was always traveling and there were few really usable pages in his schedule, any time the two of you could have together should be taken full advantage of, and For both of them, there's nothing better than an afternoon of movies.

You two had created a list of movies on Letterboxd and the chosen one of the day would be Interstellar.

Oscar was making popcorn while you were arranging the blankets and pillows on the couch, so what if it was the height of summer in Australia? There in the apartment, the air conditioning was hovering below fifteen degrees, keeping the room at a favorable climate for you and your boyfriend to cuddle while watching astronauts lost in space.

"I thought you were going to choose Anatomy of a Fall," he muttered, placing the food on the coffee table, popcorn with cheese, assorted snacks, chocolates and ice cream and of course, lemon soda.

"I was dubious, but you know I love any movie that has Matthew McConaughey in it," you said, getting under the covers, accompanied by Oscar, "and of course, The movie's soundtrack is perfect, I use it to study..."

"Have you watched it?"

"No, I was waiting for you, but I discovered the playlist... I'll send you the link, you'll love it"

He hummed in agreement and you pressed play on the movie, Many times you paused the film to comment on something or express your theories. It made the movie session better, Oscar didn't mind listening to you talk about it and you loved his theories.

It was, without a doubt, the best way to enjoy the break.

MAX VERSTAPPEN:

He would rather be playing, sleeping or, I don't know, watering the plants, but you always dragged him to a skin care session. You spread different creams on his face, plucked some extra hairs from his eyebrows, trimmed his beard.

As much as he denied it, Max learned to enjoy it, being taken care of by you was one of his guilty pleasures. And it all got better when you started gossiping without any trace of shame. He talked about what went on behind the scenes in F1 and you shared news about work and your condominium.

"I'm still sad that Logan was let go, he had a lot of future," you said, sliding the massage stone across his face, spreading the serum into his skin.

"He's a good kid, unfortunately he wasn't ready for Formula One yet, he came in too early and couldn't adapt well... I hope he can find his place" he grumbled, sighing at the gentle massage on his cheekbones.

"Yes... Williams was very ungrateful to him and I won't elaborate on that" you said a little bitterly and Max laughed, you always positioned yourself as a defender of the poor and oppressed.

"Yes... I won't elaborate on that either... It's better"

You both were silent until you clicked your tongue.

"Uh, I almost forgot to tell you, last week there was a horrible fight at the condominium meeting.

He opened his curious eyes "You can tell me everything, dear"

"The neighbor at 1165 caught her husband with the building manager and the building manager's husband in her bed"

"What the fuck?! Are you kidding?!"

You laughed, putting away the massage stone and sliding your fingers firmly over Max's face "you had to see it, she put together a PowerPoint with photos and screenshots of the conversations"

Max laughed out loud "damn, I wish I had seen..."

"It was a real fight, they argued and everything, it was really fun to watch"

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"I will definitely go to the next condo meeting"

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

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[drunk-person]

Burned by you (One Shot)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: After a few months of marriage, the reader tries to see in her always well-composed and taciturn husband the frightening dragon that she was told to fear before the wedding, but without success. Until one afternoon a small incident pushes Aemond over the edge and she realizes her wish to wake the dragon.

WARNING: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, fingering, possessive and jealousy sex, dom/sub tones if you squint, mentions of murder, no description for reader.

Word cont: 1.900 k

Author's note: Hi, this is my first one short published, I've written others, but I never posted them and this one was written this afternoon and I thought "why not?". I usually write better than this, but this was a jumbled part of my mind that I finally decided to share, hope someone likes it. English is not my first language so be kind if you can.

Aemond's stoic manner almost always disturbed his young wife. No matter how much she saw the fire cross her eye, it never burned what was around her. Except in the training yard, she never saw him out of composure, and sometimes not even in the training yard he lost his composure. His hair was always well-groomed, his clothes were well-adjusted and his gaze was always calculated. She got tired. She wanted to see the beast she knew was underneath. She wanted the fire that shone every now and then in his eyes to consume her. She wanted to be burned by the dragon. So she did what she could do best, teased him to death.

She smiled everywhere in the way she knew Aemond didn't like her to do. She walked through the courtyards in her dresses considered most revealing. She would even grant a dance or two to some braggart Lord, but he remained just as stoic. The day she gave Prince Jacaerys a dance she thought she saw his eyes sparkle, but soon he was talking to his sister and she lost sight of his eyes.

Y/n she got tired of that game in which she was visibly losing. She was resigned to knowing that she would never see the dragon she had been warned about when she got married. She was walking calmly through the gardens while thinking when she felt the heel of the boot she was wearing give way on her. And with a gasp she almost fell face first onto the grass in front, but before that, a rough hand caught her.

— Is my princess okay? — The young gardener asked helpfully.

— My shoe broke. — She said while leaning on the boy who must have been a few years older than her.

— Here, let me help. — The gardener placed her hand on his shoulder and crouched close to the ground while removing the shoe from Y/n's foot, who didn't even notice the compromising position in which she found herself with the boy practically between her legs.

Suddenly came the cold and menacing voice from her back, causing every hair on her body to stand on end.

— Wife. — She immediately turned back, stepping with her bare foot on the grass, while the gardener released her and practically fell into a sitting position on the garden lawn. Aemond's eyes were on fire, her jaw was clenched and her body was tense like a rope stretched to its limit.

— Husband, nothing happened. — She tried to explain quickly. — My shoe broke and got stuck on the lawn, he was just…

— Quiet. — Aemond hissed harshly.

— But husband...

— I said to keep quiet. — He spoke with a firm voice as he approached them both.

He guided his hand to her neck and caressed it gently as he closed one of his hands and squeezed it, but not enough to hurt. Y/n looked him in the eyes, scared and without moving a single muscle.

— Go to our chambers and wait for me there. — He practically spat out the words as he released her neck without any delicacy.

Y/n didn't question him anymore, she just turned her back and ran barefoot towards their shared chambers without even looking at the gardener, who was still lying on the grass.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

She walked around the room without even being able to breathe. What would happen? What was her husband thinking now? Where he was? It seemed like hours had passed since the garden. And then without warning the door opened and she immediately turned towards it, but the sight that came was of something completely unheard of.

Aemond walked through the door with her hands, her face and her own clothes covered in blood, a frightening look on her face. Her steps were stiff as he slowly walked towards her.

— Husband, what happened? — She asked worried, but unable to move towards him.

— Do you want to know what happened? What did I have to do? — He asked angrily when he finally approached her and held her jaw firmly in his right hand, squeezing it tightly. — I made that filthy gardener fight me.

Y/n’s heart sank for the poor guy. She knew that no one in the royal guard was a match for Aemond, a young gardener would never be. But why was it covered in blood?

— And when I beat him without any major complications. — He paused before concluding in an even more cruel voice. — I beheaded him myself.

Y/n brought her hands to her lips as she imagined the brutal scene in front of her.

— Sad for your loving wife? — He practically shouted as he pulled her hair back forcing her to look into his eyes. Y/n quickly shook her head in visible despair.

— He was not my lover. I swear husband! He was just taking my shoe off the grass. — She whimpered as Aemond pulled even more of her hair.

— I may have only one eye but I'm not blind, wife. — He growled, looking into her eyes. — That man didn't look at you as someone who just wanted to help you with a shoe.— Husband... — She tried speak, but Aemond slapped her.

— I tried to treat you the best I could, but if you want to act like a common whore, then I'll treat you like a common whore. — Aemond pulled out his dagger and Y/n's eyes widened, he then used it to tear the entire dress she was wearing, ripping it off her in moments, leaving only her undershirt, which he tore with his own hands, making Y/n gasp.

Aemond bent her over the table and before Y/n could understand anything, she felt a new slap on her ass and let out a scream of surprise. Without warning, Aemond violently separated her ass cheeks, making her feel exposed, her whole body seemed to burn with shame. She felt herself heat up even more as she heard her husband laugh evilly and felt his breath against her wet folds.

— A real little whore. — He inserted two fingers at once into her intimacy, making her squirm. — Wet and anxious while waiting to be fucked.

She moaned outrageously as she felt his fingers fucking her without mercy. Her body was lying on the table and while he was fucking her with one hand, Aemond held her firmly by the neck, keeping her in the same position. She felt that the air was running out of her and the pressure in her belly was almost unbearable, and when her husband removed his hand from her neck and took it to the top of her thighs, violently pinching her pearl, she screamed with pleasure and pain as she came against Aemond's hands, who didn't stop his movements for even a second.

The Excessive Stimulation was making her go crazy. Aemond, without caring, slapped her on the buttock, making her grip the table tightly, the slap was followed by another, and another, and another, until Y/n was reduced to a crying and desperate mess.

— Husband. — She begged, babbling and drooling on the table top. - Please…

Aemond just laughed and bit her shoulder firmly, as he penetrated her all at once with his length, she whimpered even more at the sudden intrusion. And without waiting for her to get used to it like he always did, he started fucking her violently. Aemond took his hands to her hair, entangling his hands there and pulling her head back making her face their reflection in the mirror.

The Vision made Y/n moan even more, she was completely naked and Aemond was clothed. His hair was messy and scattered everywhere, his clothes were a mess, his face and part of his skin were covered in blood, and his look... oh, his look looked like that of a mad man. The flame that was there could burn the entire room, and it was certainly burning her.

— I should have fucked you in front of that bastard before I ripped his head off. — Aemond growled in her ear as he fucked her even harder and Y/n cried uncontrollably amid moans and panting. — Maybe I'll ask them to bring his head and hang it in our room so he can watch as I fuck you every night in the seven fucking hells. — Y/n let out a scream when she heard him say those things. The hand that squeezed her waist did so with such force that it hurt, as he went deeper and deeper into her.

— You have to know, wife. — He practically growled as he bit her neck violently. — That you are mine, if I see you dancing with that bastard Strong again I will make sure that an accident occurs and he falls from one of the towers. — He slapped her hard on the ass when he said that.

— If any of these servants touch your skin again, I will rip their head off in front of you. — He gave a strong thrust inside her as he stared at her in the mirror with his eyes burning. — I will kill anyone who dares to come close to what is mine. — He hissed in an almost venomous way as he squeezed her breasts firmly and Y/n felt her whole body shake with the uncontrolled pleasure that erupted through her body.

— Say my name, say the name of the owner of this pussy and this body. — Aemond grunted, slapping her pearl sharply and Y/n saw stars. She came screaming his name at the top of her lungs to anyone who would listen.

— Whore. — Aemond moaned in her ear as he continued fucking her. — Filthy whore. — He bit her ear as she cried amidst her orgasm. — My little whore.

— Yours. — She cried, rubbing herself against him uncontrollably, even with the pain of overstimulation. — You whore, only yours.

And Aemond came deep inside her with a moan that sounded like a growl as he bit and sucked on her neck.

— Never do that again, wife, or I guarantee you I won't be so indolent. — Her husband's breathless voice sounded against her neck.She nodded weakly and with no more strength in her body, she collapsed onto the table again.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

The sun was high in the sky when Y/n woke up the next day, still naked as on her name day, alone in bed and with all her painful limbs. Aemond, as always, had left very early, and she got up from the bed with difficulty, feeling her legs wobble like she hadn't felt since her first night with her husband.

She walked slowly to the mirror and sighed at the image before her, bruises of all colors covered her body, neck, thighs, hips, waist, ass, breasts. All covered in Aemond's handprints or her bite marks.

She smiled mischievously as she watched herself and lightly bit her lower lip as she remembered the other night. She barely noticed the door opening, and only looked up when she heard it close. Through her mirror her gaze met Aemond's and she could see his eyes burning like fire as he addressed her.

She had awakened the dragon, and now there would be no turning back.

[stylesispunk]

"I'll never leave, Never mind"

not outbreak! Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You and Joel met at the hospital that may have sealed your fate.

wc: 16,3k. Longest one I've ever written.

warnings: extreme angst, grieving, death,No proofreading.

a/n: There is no new chapter of 'Silent Strain' tonight, but here is a new one shoot. This is a sad sad and rushed one and it was heavily inspired on 'we live in time' cuz florence and andrew content made me think on it a lot. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Joel and you could have said that fate has its way to interlock threads among people.

Some people met through friends at a party.

Others had their long way from kids, from friends to lovers and getting married.

And others met by coincidence,

When both of them ended up with a broken arm and broken fingers in a hospital.

One breaking up with his lifetime girlfriend.

The other foolish being cheated on.

Joel was leaning back in the chair, his arm in a sling, his expression was pure irritation and pain. Across from him, you sat cradling your bandaged fingers, the sting of adrenaline still fresh from your impulsive decision. The silence felt strange and weird, after all everything was a dream engulfed in fire.

You glanced at the man in front of you, studying his profile, he way his brow furrowed slightly, the tension in his jaw. He caught your gaze and raised an eyebrow in question. Finally, unable to take the silence any longer, you blurted out, "What happened to your arm?"

Joel’s eyes flickered to his sling, a small, almost amused smirk playing at his lips. "A bar fight," he replied, his voice low and gravelly. "Didn't go quite like I planned."

"Sounds like it wasn't your night," you replied, trying to suppress a grin.

He chuckled softly. "You could say that." Then, nodding at your bandaged hand, he added, "What about you? Those fingers look pretty messed up."

You hesitated for a moment, debating whether to tell the truth. "Punched my ex," you admitted finally. "Turns out, hitting someone with rings on isn't the smartest move."

Joel's grin widened, and for a moment, the tension between you both dissipated. "What about?," he asked, leaning back in his chair.

"cheating" You said, with a lazy smaile.

You both gaze at each other, still unaware that the woman your ex had cheated with was Joel's ex-girlfriend. Fate, or maybe the universe, had twisted your lives into a messy knot, and the hospital room was just the start of what would prove to be an unexpected connection between two strangers meeting at a hospital for the first time.

"How can people do that to you?." His gaze grew distant, him not saying the truth behind the statement and you wondered what ghosts were lingering in his past. The thought that you might be more connected than you realized hadn’t crossed your mind yet, but somehow, it felt like this conversation was meant to happen.

"So, what happened?" you asked, a little softer this time. "With the bar fight, I mean."

Joel shifted his gaze back to you, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a lopsided smile. "You wouldn’t believe me if I told you," he replied. There was a hint of challenge in his tone, as if daring you to ask more.

"Try me," you shot back, leaning forward slightly.

He chuckled, more to himself than to you. "Alright, then. I walked into a bar to clear my head. Turns out, my ex was there, drinking with some guy who looked like he thought he owned the place. Words were said, and, well… my fist got to know his face better than I planned." He winced, probably at the memory or the pain radiating from his arm.

"Your ex?" you echoed, a strange feeling creeping up your spine.

"Yeah," Joel said, nodding. "She was the reason I needed a drink in the first place. She cheated and we broke up, but seeing her with him… didn’t exactly help. And before you ask, no, I don’t know why I still care." There was a bitter edge to his words, one that made you think of your own ex and the anger still simmering in your chest.

You were about to respond, maybe tell him that you understood too well, when the door to the waiting room opened, and a nurse stepped in. She glanced between the two of you, holding a clipboard. “Mr. Miller?” she called, and Joel raised his good hand.

"That’s me," he said, pushing himself to his feet with a grimace. The nurse gestured for him to follow, but before he could move, he looked back at you, a strange expression crossing his face.

“Maybe when I’m back, we can still have this conversation” he suggested, a hint of a grin returning.

You nodded, feeling a pull toward him that was hard to ignore. "I’d like that," you replied, watching as he disappeared down the hallway.

You had just turned to leave when you heard Joel’s voice behind you.

"Hey," he called out, a little hesitantly. You stopped in your tracks and turned back to face him.

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, clearly not the type to do this often. "I was just thinkin’... I don’t really wanna leave things like this. Mind if I get your number?"

For a second, you were caught off guard. Joel, tough and reserved, asking for your number? It felt like one of those moments where the universe gave you a choice a small step toward something unknown but maybe worth exploring.

You smiled, this time a bit more genuine, and nodded. "Yeah, sure."

Pulling out your phone, you exchanged numbers, the simple act suddenly feeling like a big deal, like some invisible line had been crossed.

"Thanks," he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours again, and for a moment, there was that same unspoken connection between you.

"Guess I’ll see you around," you said, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

Joel gave you a small, almost shy smile. "Yeah. I’d like that."

With one last glance, you turned and walked away, feeling a little lighter than before. And even though you had no idea what would come next, there was something about the way Joel had stopped you that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new.

A new friendship,

A new story,

A new romance.

You didn't know, but there was a good feeling about those big brown eyes of Joel when he looked at you.

Joel had met a girl who made him feel at ease, like being bathed by the warm sun of a chilly autumn afternoom.

And you, you had met a man who made you believe not everyone wanted to hurt you.

Something like golden in color, something like dawn being seen from the beach.

Pure, fearless and sweet.

Later that night, as you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the events of the day kept replaying in your mind. Meeting Joel, the strange connection, the shocking revelation about his ex—it was all too much to process. You turned over, trying to let sleep take over, but your mind wouldn’t settle.

Just as you were about to close your eyes, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You blinked in the darkness, surprised anyone would be texting this late. Grabbing your phone, you saw Joel’s name light up on the screen. Your heart did a small, unexpected flip as you opened the message.

Joel: Hope I didn’t wake you. Just wanted to say… It was really nice to meet you.

You stared at the message, feeling a warmth spread through you. It wasn’t a grand declaration, just a simple, honest text. And yet, something about it made you smile in the quiet of your room.

You hesitated for a moment, then typed back:

You: No, you didn’t wake me. I’m glad we met too. Today was...nice after all.

That's how it started between the both of you.

It was coincidental.

It was legendary.

Three months after talking, two months after running after each other and hanging out.

Joel finally asked you out on a date.

Joel stood in the doorway, scanning your coffee shop before his eyes found you behind the counter. For a split second, the same look of surprise crossed his face as it had the day you first met, like he hadn’t fully expected to see you here. But then his expression softened, and he gave you a small nod as he walked toward the counter.

"A cup of coffee, Miller?" you asked with a grin, trying to hide the flutter of nerves that came with seeing him.

Joel scratched the back of his neck, looking a little uncomfortable, but there was something different in his posture today, like he had something in the back of his mind . "Actually… I was hoping..." he beganhis voice low and a bit hesitant.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. 'What?"

He took a breath, looking almost shy for a man like him, and you could see him working up the courage. "I was wonderin’ if you’d want to go out sometime. Maybe grab a drink or dinner." His eyes locked onto yours, and despite the casual tone, there was a weight behind his words, like he’d been thinking about this since the last time you saw each other.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you found yourself momentarily speechless. The idea of Joel, this tough, guarded man, asking you out felt both surprising and strangely right at the same time.

"You want to take me out?" you asked, making sure you hadn’t misheard.

Joel gave a small, almost sheepish smile. "Yeah, I do. I mean, if you’re up for it. Something fancier, just… somewhere that isn't your coffee hop or a hospital hallway."

You couldn’t help but smile at that. His awkwardness was endearing, and there was something in his eyes that made it clear he wasn’t playing games—this wasn’t just about grabbing a drink. It felt like he was genuinely interested in getting to know you.

"Sure," you said, your voice soft but certain. "I’d like that."

Joel’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he smiled, a real one this time. "Alright, then. How about tomorrow night? I know a good place."

"Tomorrow sounds great," you replied, trying to ignore the excited flutter in your chest. "Just let me know where."

"I will," Joel nodded, and for a moment, he just stood there, the air between you charged with something unspoken.

As he turned to leave, he paused at the door, glancing back at you with that same small, shy smile. "I’ll see you tomorrow."

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you as you watched him walk out of the shop. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

The next evening, you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of your red dress. It was simple, elegant, and just a little daring, something you hadn’t worn in a while. There was a nervous excitement bubbling inside you as you got ready. It wasn’t often you went on dates, and certainly not with someone like Joel.

As you approached the restaurant, your heart raced a little faster. The soft glow of the lights spilling out onto the sidewalk set a warm and inviting tone, but it was the thought of seeing Joel that had your nerves on edge.

When you stepped inside, scanning the room, you saw him right away. Joel was seated near the window, dressed in a dark button-up shirt that suited him well, though it still carried that ruggedness you’d come to associate with him. His head was down, focused on the menu in front of him, unaware that you had arrived.

But then, as if sensing your presence, he looked up—and his reaction was instant. His eyes widened, and his mouth parted slightly in disbelief. Joel sat there, frozen for a moment, his eyes taking in the sight of you in the red dress. He hadn’t expected this. The sight of you knocked the air right out of his lungs.

You caught the way his mouth hung open just a bit, the look of awe in his eyes. It was as if, for a second, he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. You smiled shyly, stepping toward him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks under his gaze.

Joel stood up quickly, almost knocking the chair back in his haste. "Wow," he breathed, barely managing to find the words. "You… you look incredible." His voice was low, almost reverent, like he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

"Thanks," you replied, feeling a little bashful under his gaze but also enjoying how flustered he seemed. "You don’t look too bad yourself."

Joel chuckled, but his eyes remained on you, still taking in the way the dress hugged your figure, the way the soft light from the restaurant made you glow. For a man who was usually so composed and reserved, he was completely undone by you tonight.

As you reached the table, Joel moved to pull out your chair, a little clumsily, but his gesture was sweet. "Here, let me," he offered, still looking at you like you’d just walked out of a dream.

"Thanks," you murmured as you sat down, glancing up at him with a smile. He was still standing, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he finally sat across from you.

For a few moments, Joel was quiet, his usual gruffness replaced by something softer, almost tender. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slightly as if trying to process what he was feeling. "I wasn’t expectin’ this," he admitted, his voice a little rough. "You look… I don’t even have the words."

You laughed softly, feeling the tension ease between you. "I’m glad I could surprise you."

Joel leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his eyes never leaving yours. "You did. And I’m real glad you’re here."

As the evening unfolded, the conversation flowed easily, and despite the initial nerves, you both found a rhythm. Joel’s lingering stares, his quiet admiration, the way his eyes softened every time you smiled—everything felt charged with an undeniable connection. There was something between you, something unspoken but very real.

And as the night went on, you couldn’t help but wonder if the universe really did have its own funny way of pulling people together.

It felt like a movie. Waking up next to Joel felt like living inside a dream you never wanted to end. Each morning, as the sunlight spilled through the curtains, the reality of it all washed over you, how something that started so unexpectedly had grown into this, something solid, something that felt like home. It felt like a movie, the kind where everything was beautifully imperfect, but just right in all the ways that mattered.

You turned in bed, watching him sleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. There was a calmness in his face, a softness that most people never got to see. His hair was a little messier, a few strands falling into his eyes, and you reached out gently, brushing them aside. He stirred, his eyes fluttering open, and when he saw you, a sleepy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough from sleep.

“Morning,” you whispered back, smiling as you traced a finger along his arm. "Feels like we’re in one of those romantic comedies, doesn’t it?"

Joel chuckled softly, his deep laugh rumbling through his chest. "Except I’m no prince, and you didn’t have to kiss a frog to get me."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but the truth was, every day with Joel felt like something special, like fate had somehow woven your lives together in the most unexpected way. You thought back to that first day in the hospital when you’d both been broken in different ways, and now, here you were, piecing each other back together.

"You say that like you’re not the most decent guy I’ve ever met," you teased, settling back into his arms.

Joel tightened his hold around you, his fingers brushing through your hair. "You give me too much credit."

"I don’t think I give you enough," you replied softly, your voice laced with sincerity.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at you with those deep, soulful eyes, the kind that always made you feel seen, really seen. Joel was never one for flowery words, but his actions spoke volumes—the way he looked after you, the way he showed up for you, every single day, even when he didn’t need to.

"Can’t believe it’s been a year," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Me neither," you admitted. "Happy anniversary" you said, kissing all of his face.

Joel smiled as your lips brushed across his face, his eyes closing briefly as he soaked in the tenderness of the moment. "Happy anniversary," he murmured, his voice low and warm, as if the words held more weight than he could fully express. His hands slid up to cradle your face, pulling you closer as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“You’ve made this past year somethin’ I never thought I’d have again,” Joel whispered against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. His thumb traced the line of your jaw, the small, intimate gesture sending warmth through you. “Never thought I’d feel this way.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. "You deserve it, Joel. We both do." You kissed the tip of his nose, then his cheek, trailing kisses along his stubbled jawline. "I’m lucky to wake up next to you every day."

He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as though he couldn’t quite believe it himself. "Feels like I’m the lucky one.

You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him closer. "I guess we’re both lucky, then."

Joel gazed at you, his eyes soft, filled with an emotion that words couldn’t quite capture. "Don’t know what I’d do without you," he whispered, his voice just a little rough around the edges.

"Good thing you don’t have to find out," you teased, leaning in for another kiss, this one lingering, as if the moment itself held a promise. The world outside the bedroom didn’t matter, not right now. All that mattered was this, the quiet love that had grown between you both over the past year.

The kind of love that, even in its simplicity, felt like the most beautiful thing in the world.

Later that morning, you and Joel stood side by side in the kitchen, working in comfortable silence as you prepared breakfast together. The smell of coffee filled the air, and the sound of sizzling bacon accompanied the quiet hum of morning. Both of you had decided to take the day off—no work, no interruptions—just a day to be together and celebrate your anniversary.

As you stirred the eggs, Joel suddenly cleared his throat, drawing your attention. You glanced over to see him watching you with that familiar, warm smile that always made your heart skip a beat.

"You know," he began, his voice soft, "I’ve been thinkin’ about somethin’." He flipped the bacon, pausing for a moment, almost like he was searching for the right words. "I know some people think we’re movin’ fast—bein’ together the way we are after only a year."

You set the spatula down, turning to face him fully. You’d heard the comments before—friends and family making subtle remarks about how quickly things had progressed between you and Joel. But none of that had ever mattered to you. It felt right.

"And… what do you think?" you asked gently, curious where his thoughts were leading.

Joel looked at you, his expression serious for a moment, before it softened into something deep, something real. "I think it’s the happiest I’ve ever been," he admitted, his voice steady. "And I don’t care if people think we’re movin’ too fast. Everything just feels right with you." He set the pan aside and stepped closer to you, reaching out to gently cup your face.

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you in the best way possible. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world. And in that moment, you realized just how much you meant to him.

"I’ve got a surprise for you," Joel added, his voice a little softer, and there was a glint of nervousness in his eyes—something you didn’t see from him often.

"A surprise?" you repeated, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "What kind of surprise?"

He took your hand, leading you away from the stove and into the living room. His grip was firm, yet there was a tenderness to the way he held you, like he was holding something precious.

Joel stopped in front of the couch, turning to face you. He reached into his back pocket and, for a moment, your heart skipped a beat. Slowly, he pulled out a small box, and as he held it in his hand, you realized exactly what was happening.

Your eyes widened, and you brought a hand to your mouth as Joel got down on one knee, looking up at you with that same earnest, loving expression.

"I know it’s been a year, and I know some people might think this is crazy," he began, his voice steady, though you could hear the emotion in it. "But I don’t care about any of that. I’ve never been surer of anything in my life." He opened the box, revealing a simple but beautiful ring. "You make me feel like I’m home, every day. So, I’m askin’… will you marry me?"

Your heart nearly stopped as you stood there, mouth agape, staring at Joel kneeling in front of you with that ring in his hand. The weight of the moment washed over you, and before you could think, your body moved on instinct. You dropped to your knees in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Joel immediately responded, his strong arms coming around you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. The words "Yes, yes," tumbled from your lips, breathless and full of emotion. Without even realizing it, you shifted, wrapping your legs around his waist as he held you securely.

His laugh was soft and filled with pure joy as he stood up, lifting you effortlessly with him. He held you tightly, your legs still wrapped around his waist as you clung to him. "You really mean that?" he asked, his voice a little shaky, but his eyes shone with happiness.

You nodded, burying your face in the crook of his neck, your voice catching as you whispered, "I’ve never been surer of anything in my life."

Joel’s arms tightened around you, his chest rumbling with laughter and relief all at once. "You’ve made me the happiest man alive," he said, his voice deep and full of love.

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. You smiled; your heart full to the brim. "I guess we both found home."

Joel pressed his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper as he said, "I guess we did."

With your legs still wrapped around his waist, Joel gently lowered you to the ground, holding you steady as you found your footing. His eyes never left yours, full of warmth and something even deeper that made your heart swell. He reached for the ring, holding it up with a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Now," he said, his voice barely a whisper, filled with emotion, "let me do this the right way."

He carefully took your hand in his, and you watched in awe as he slid the ring onto your finger. It felt cool at first, but as it settled into place, it felt like it belonged there—like it had always been meant to be.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the ring, sparkling in the morning light. It was simple, yet beautiful—perfect, just like the moment.

Joel’s fingers brushed yours as he held your hand, pulling you close again. "Looks just right," he murmured, his voice low and full of affection. His thumb softly traced over the ring, and then over your knuckles, like he was making sure it was real, like this wasn’t just a dream.

You looked up at him, tears brimming in your eyes, but they were happy tears, filled with the overwhelming joy of knowing you had found your forever with this man. "It’s perfect," you whispered, squeezing his hand.

Joel smiled, pulling you into his arms again, his lips brushing the top of your head as he murmured, "You’re perfect."

For a long moment, the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other, savoring the silence and the weight of what had just happened. It was more than just a proposal—it was a promise, one that you both knew you would keep, no matter what life threw at you.

A month had passed since the day Joel put that ring on your finger, and it felt like you were living in a dream. Every moment with him was like writing your own love story—filled with warmth, laughter, and the kind of happiness you never thought you’d find. You and Joel had started to create a life together, and it felt like the world had finally aligned in the best way.

That night, as the moonlight spilled through the curtains, Joel was already in bed, the soft glow of a lamp casting a warm light on him as he flicked through a book. You were in the bathroom, hands trembling slightly as you looked down at the test in your hand. The two lines were unmistakable. Your heart raced, a mixture of excitement, nerves, and disbelief filling your chest.

"Joel?" you called out from the bathroom, your voice a little shaky.

"Yeah, darlin'?" His voice was calm, unaware of the life-altering news you were about to share.

"I… I have to show you something," you managed to say, your nerves bubbling into a quiet, breathy laugh.

There was a brief pause before you heard the rustle of sheets and Joel's footsteps making their way toward the bathroom. The door creaked open, and Joel appeared in the doorway, his brows furrowed in curiosity. "What is it?" he asked, his deep voice laced with concern as his eyes searched your face.

You turned toward him, holding the pregnancy test in your hand, your heart pounding. With a nervous laugh, you held it out for him to see. "I... I'm pregnant, Joel."

His eyes flicked down to the test, and for a moment, it seemed like time stood still. The realization hit him slowly, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief, and then to something far deeper. His mouth opened slightly, his breath catching in his throat as he processed the news.

"You're... pregnant?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, biting your lip, unsure of how he’d react. "I know it's a lot. I didn’t even expect it, but—"

Before you could finish, Joel stepped forward, pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. His face buried into the crook of your neck, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your skin as he whispered, "Are you serious?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you nodded against his shoulder. "Yeah. I’m serious."

Joel pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his hands cupping your face.

Joel lifted you effortlessly into his arms, his laughter mixing with yours as the weight of the news settled in—a shared joy that filled the room. His eyes sparkled with happiness, and the grin on his face was infectious. He held you close, your legs wrapped around his waist as he spun you in a small circle, both of you laughing like kids.

"I can’t believe it," Joel said, his voice filled with awe as he gently set you down on the bathroom counter, still holding you close. "We're gonna have a baby."

You nodded, the happiness bubbling up inside you, barely able to contain it. "We are," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "We're gonna be parents."

Joel kissed your forehead softly, his hands gently rubbing your sides. "I love you," he whispered, the words filled with a depth of emotion that made your heart swell. "You and this baby—we're gonna have the perfect story”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, but they were happy tears, and you smiled up at him. "I love you too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "We’re going to be a family."

He held you there for a moment longer, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. Then, with a soft chuckle, Joel stepped back, still keeping a hand on your waist. "Guess we better start gettin’ used to this idea. A baby, huh?"

You nodded, your eyes shining with excitement. "A baby."

Joel smiled, still shaking his head in disbelief as he looked down at you. “A baby,” he repeated, his voice soft with awe. "I can’t believe it."

He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of becoming a father again. The joy in his eyes was unmistakable. After all the hardships, after all the loss, this was something he didn’t think he’d ever have again—a chance at building a family, a future.

“Guess we’re gonna have to start gettin' the place ready, huh?” Joel said, a playful tone creeping into his voice. "Crib, baby clothes… We’re in for a lot of changes."

You laughed, wiping away the last of your tears. "Yeah, we have a lot to prepare for."

Joel grinned, stepping back and taking your hand as he led you out of the bathroom. "But I’m ready for all of it," he said, squeezing your hand gently. "Every single part of it."

As the two of you stepped into the bedroom, the quiet warmth of the moment settled over you. Joel sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling you into his lap. His hands rested on your stomach, fingers gently tracing over where your baby would grow.

"Just think," he murmured, his voice low and full of wonder. "In a few months, there’ll be a little one right here. A part of you and me."

The thought of it made your heart swell with love and anticipation. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "I can’t wait, Joel," you whispered. "It’s going to be everything."

For a while, the two of you just sat there, holding each other in the quiet of the night, the future ahead of you bright and full of promise. It was a life neither of you had ever expected to find—but it was yours now, and you would cherish it, together.

Joel kissed the top of your head, his voice soft and full of love. "We’ve got a good thing goin’ here," he said. "And now, it’s just gonna get better."

You smiled, closing your eyes as you whispered back, "Yeah, it is."

Time seemed to pass in a blur after that night. Every moment was a new memory, a new step toward the future you and Joel were building together. As the months went by, you prepared for the arrival of your baby while deepening the bond between you two. Joel was there for every ultrasound, every late-night craving, and every moment of excitement and nerves.

The day you both decided to get married wasn’t a grand occasion but something simple, just the way you both wanted it. You’d been sitting on the couch, going over baby names, when Joel looked at you with that soft, familiar smile and said, “Why don’t we get married before the little one arrives?”

At first, the idea seemed so casual, but the more you thought about it, the more perfect it felt. You didn’t need a big ceremony or an extravagant event. What you wanted was to make things official in the most meaningful way possible, with just the two of you and a handful of your closest friends and family.

The wedding day was intimate, held at a charming little venue not far from home. It was a crisp autumn day, the leaves turning shades of gold and crimson, and you couldn’t have asked for a more perfect setting. Your family and closest friends were there. As you walked toward him, your heart fluttered. Joel, standing tall and proud in his suit, his eyes filled with love and pride, made your breath catch in your throat. You couldn’t believe that this man, who had once been just a stranger, was now the center of your world.

When you reached him, Joel took your hands in his, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. His eyes locked onto yours, and in that moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, standing together, ready to face whatever came next.

When you finally reached him, Joel took your hand, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. The look in his eyes was one of pure love and pride. He leaned in slightly and whispered, “You look beautiful, darlin’.”

The ceremony itself was short but filled with emotion. Joel’s voice wavered ever so slightly as he said his vows, and you could feel the weight of his words as he promised to love and support you forever.

“I never thought I’d be this lucky again,” he said softly, his eyes locked on yours. "You’ve given me more than I could’ve ever asked for."

Your heart swelled, and when it was your turn, you spoke from the heart. "I didn’t know life could be this good until I met you, Joel. You’ve changed everything for me."

The officiant declared you husband and wife, and Joel didn’t waste a second, pulling you in for a soft, meaningful kiss that felt like the beginning of a new chapter.

“By the power vested in me…” the officiant’s voice seemed to fade as you looked at Joel, your heart overflowing with love. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Joel’s smile widened as he gently cupped your face and pulled you into the sweetest, softest kiss. The world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you in that moment, forever bound to each other.

After the small, intimate wedding, life felt like it had settled into a beautiful rhythm. Every morning you woke up next to Joel felt like a dream you never wanted to end, and as your belly grew, so did your love for the life you were building together.

It was a calm morning a few weeks after the wedding, the sunlight streaming through the windows of your cozy home. Joel had already gotten out of bed to make breakfast, and you could hear the sounds of him moving around the kitchen. You smiled to yourself, feeling content and full of love.

You got up slowly, your hand instinctively resting on your growing bump. The baby had started kicking more frequently, and every little movement filled you with awe. You made your way to the kitchen, and there he was, standing at the stove, making scrambled eggs like he did every Sunday morning.

Joel looked over his shoulder when he heard you approach, his face breaking into a soft, adoring smile. "Mornin’, sweetheart. How’re you feelin’?"

“Good,” you said, wrapping your arms around him from behind, resting your cheek against his back. “Hungry, as always.”

He chuckled, placing a hand over yours. “That’s a good sign. I’ve got breakfast ready in just a few minutes.”

You sat down at the kitchen table, feeling the warmth of the sun on your face as Joel brought over plates of eggs, toast, and some fruit. As you both started eating, Joel couldn’t take his eyes off you, his expression full of love and admiration.

"You know," Joel started, his voice soft and thoughtful, "Every time I see you, like this, carryin' our baby… it just hits me how lucky I am."

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. "I feel the same way, Joel. I can’t believe how much life has changed for the better. I never thought I’d get to be this happy."

Joel reached across the table, taking your hand in his. His thumb gently caressed the back of your hand as he gazed at you with that familiar warmth in his eyes. "We’ve been through a lot, but every bit of it led us here. And I wouldn’t change a thing."

After breakfast, the two of you spent the day together, enjoying the simple moments that made your life so full. Joel had taken time off from work to be around more as the baby’s due date got closer, and it felt like every day was another beautiful chapter in your love story.

As the evening drew near, you sat together on the couch, Joel’s hand resting protectively on your belly as the baby kicked softly. He looked at you, his eyes filled with a sense of peace and joy. "You’re gonna be such a great mom."

You smiled, leaning into him. "And you’re going to be the best dad."

Joel pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand never leaving your bump. The two of you sat there in the quiet, simply enjoying each other’s presence, the future stretching out before you, full of hope and love.

Months had passed, and the day finally arrived. You were in the hospital room, your hand gripping Joel’s tightly as you went through the final stages of labor. The pain was intense, but Joel was right there by your side, whispering encouragement in your ear, his voice calm and steady despite the chaos around you.

"You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart," Joel murmured, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. His hand was firm in yours, grounding you as the contractions intensified. "Almost there. Just a little longer."

With one final push, the room filled with the first cry of your baby. Relief, exhaustion, and overwhelming joy washed over you as you collapsed back against the pillow. The doctor carefully placed the newborn in your arms, and when you looked down at her tiny face, everything else in the world faded away.

Joel stood beside you, his eyes wide with awe as he looked down at your daughter. "She’s here," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His hand hovered above her small head before he gently stroked her soft hair. "She’s perfect."

You smiled up at him, tears filling your eyes as you whispered, "Sarah."

Joel’s breath hitched, his gaze softening even more as he took in the name. "Sarah," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before brushing his lips over your daughter’s tiny head. "Welcome to the world, baby girl."

Sarah’s little fingers curled around your thumb as she lay in your arms, her cries quieting as she settled into the warmth of your body. The love that filled the room was almost overwhelming, and you couldn’t stop the tears that flowed down your cheeks.

Joel sat down beside you, his arm slipping around your shoulders as the two of you gazed at your daughter in awe. "She’s gonna have your strength," Joel said softly, his voice filled with pride. "I can already see it."

"And she’ll have your heart," you whispered, leaning into him. "She’s a little piece of both of us."

For hours, you sat together in the quiet of the hospital room, marveling at the tiny miracle in your arms. Sarah yawned, her tiny eyes fluttering open for the first time, and Joel’s face lit up with a joy you’d never seen before.

"You’re gonna be a great dad," you whispered, resting your head against his shoulder.

Joel smiled, his eyes never leaving Sarah’s face. "And you’re gonna be the best mom," he replied, his voice soft but full of certainty.

In that moment, everything felt complete. The life you had built with Joel had come full circle, and now, holding Sarah, it felt like the perfect beginning to something even more beautiful. The three of you were a family, and nothing could ever take that away.

As you both sat there, watching your newborn daughter sleep peacefully in your arms, Joel leaned down and kissed you softly. "Thank you," he whispered. "For all of this. For her."

You smiled, tears filling your eyes once again. "We did this together."

And as the night settled in, the three of you together, you knew that this, this was everything you had ever dreamed of. A love that had grown into something extraordinary, a family you never thought possible, and a future that was full of hope and endless possibilities.

Time had passed, and life settled into a beautiful, busy rhythm. You found yourself balancing the challenges of raising Sarah while managing your work. Your coffee shop was thriving, and although it wasn’t always easy, the love and support Joel gave you made everything seem possible. Every morning, you’d drop Sarah off with her babysitter before opening the shop, your heart swelling as you kissed her little cheeks goodbye.

Joel and Tommy had built up their construction company together, working side by side like they always had. It was their dream, and they took pride in what they had created. Most evenings, they would come home late, tired but fulfilled, dust and sweat still clinging to their clothes, but there was always a smile on Joel's face as soon as he stepped through the door and saw you and Sarah.

It was a happy life, a busy one. Sarah was growing fast, and every day brought something new—a first laugh, her first wobbly steps, her fascination with the world around her. Joel had fallen completely in love with being a dad, always the first one to scoop Sarah up when he got home, carrying her around on his shoulders as she giggled.

One evening, after a long day of work, you were at home, feeding Sarah in her high chair while Joel and Tommy sat at the kitchen table, talking shop over dinner. You couldn’t help but smile as you listened to them go on about their latest project—something about expanding a new office building downtown. It warmed your heart to see Joel so happy in his work, and even more so knowing that you were all building this life together.

Joel caught your eye from across the table, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He stood up, coming over to where you were standing with Sarah. Gently, he wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he whispered, his voice filled with admiration as he watched you interact with Sarah.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “We’re doing this together,” you said softly, mirroring the words you’d told him in the hospital that day Sarah was born.

Tommy chuckled from the table. “Look at you two, bein’ all sappy. I’d say I’m jealous, but I’m just happy y’all found this.”

Joel laughed and shook his head, glancing down at Sarah, who was reaching out for him. “We’re lucky,” he said, picking her up and holding her close. “Wouldn’t change a damn thing.”

As you watched Joel with your daughter, your heart swelled with a deep, contented happiness. The busy days, the challenges, and the long nights—it was all worth it. You had a family, a home filled with love, and a future that was built on the strength of the bond you shared. Every piece of your life had fallen into place, and there was nothing more you could ask for.

Later that night, after Tommy had left and Sarah was fast asleep in her crib, you and Joel sat together on the couch, the soft glow of the living room lamp casting a warm light over the room. Joel had his arm draped over your shoulders, and you were curled into his side, a blanket wrapped around the both of you. The house was quiet, a peaceful kind of stillness that only came after a busy day with Sarah.

You sighed contentedly, resting your head on Joel's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It had been a long day, but these quiet moments together always made it feel like everything was exactly where it should be.

Joel pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hand gently rubbing your arm. “Been thinkin’ a lot about our future,” he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful.

You looked up at him, curious. “Yeah? What about it?”

He smiled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that familiar way that always made your heart flutter. “I mean… look at us,” he said, glancing down at you and then toward the hallway where Sarah slept. “We’ve got a beautiful baby girl, a home… but I wanna make sure I’m givin’ y’all the life you deserve.”

You reached up, cupping his cheek and turning his face toward you. “Joel, you’re already doing that,” you said earnestly. “We have everything we need. We have each other.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes softening. “I know, darlin’. But I’ve been thinkin’ about what’s next for us. I want to keep buildin’—for us, for Sarah. Maybe someday, we could get a bigger place… one with a backyard where Sarah can run around. And who knows, maybe she won’t be the only little one runnin’ around.”

You blinked in surprise, your heart skipping a beat at the thought. “Are you saying you want more kids?”

Joel chuckled softly, his hand finding yours and lacing his fingers with yours. “I’d be lyin’ if I said the thought hasn’t crossed my mind,” he admitted. “But only if you want it too. I just… I love this, our family. I love seein’ Sarah grow and thinkin’ about what’s ahead for all of us.”

You smiled, the thought of expanding your family filling you with warmth. “I love it too,” you said softly. “And I love the idea of giving Sarah a sibling someday. But… no rush, okay?”

He nodded, his gaze full of understanding. “No rush,” he repeated. “I just want us to be happy, however that looks.”

You nestled closer to him, feeling an overwhelming sense of contentment. “We already are, Joel,” you whispered. “But I love that we can dream about our future together. Whatever comes next, we’ll figure it out, just like we always do.”

Joel smiled, pulling you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Damn right we will,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice full of promise.

Life was passing, and you were living it. Every day you woke up feeling the most content person alive, waking up to a wonderful husband and to a beautiful daughter you both had created was the best prize you could have won.

So the time passed, and Sarah’s third birthday arrived. a day filled with laughter, cake, and the joyful chaos of a toddler’s party. The backyard had been transformed into a wonderland of balloons, streamers, and a small play area for the kids, all running around with boundless energy. Joel and Tommy were manning the grill, flipping burgers and laughing as they joked about who had the better cooking skills. You were sitting on the porch, watching Sarah play with her friends, her smile wide as she tore into the wrapping of her presents.

The sight of her beaming with happiness filled you with warmth, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. It had started earlier in the day, a subtle dizziness that washed over you while you were setting up for the party. At first, you brushed it off, assuming it was just the exhaustion of planning and preparing for the celebration. But as the day went on, the feeling persisted, a faint buzzing in your head that wouldn’t go away.

You stood up from your seat, intending to join Joel and Tommy at the grill, when the dizziness hit you again—stronger this time. Your vision blurred, and your legs wobbled beneath you. You reached out, gripping the railing of the porch to steady yourself, but it felt like the ground was shifting beneath your feet.

“Hey, you alright?” Joel’s voice cut through the haze, his hand suddenly on your shoulder, steadying you.

You blinked a few times, trying to shake the feeling. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, offering him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just… a little dizzy. Probably just need to sit down.”

Joel’s brow furrowed with concern, his hand gently guiding you back to the porch swing. “You’ve been actin’ off all day,” he said, kneeling in front of you. “Maybe you should take a break from all this. Let me handle things for a bit.”

“I’ll be okay,” you insisted, though the pounding in your head was starting to grow. You didn’t want to worry him, especially on a day like this, but the unease settling in your chest was hard to ignore.

Just then, Sarah came running over, her tiny hands grabbing onto Joel’s leg as she tugged at his jeans. “Daddy! Come see my new toy!” she squealed, her face lit up with excitement.

Joel gave you a quick look, clearly torn, but you waved him off. “Go, Joel. I’m fine. I’ll just rest for a bit.”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours, before he nodded. “Alright. But promise me you’ll tell me if you feel worse.”

You nodded, watching as he stood up and scooped Sarah into his arms, spinning her around as she giggled in delight. You leaned back into the swing, closing your eyes for a moment, hoping that maybe it was just the stress of the day catching up to you. But deep down, you knew something wasn’t right.

The dizziness wasn’t going away. It was getting worse.

A few hours later, after the party had wound down and the guests had left, you were helping Joel clean up when the room suddenly tilted, and your vision blurred again. This time, the dizziness was so overwhelming that you couldn’t stop it. The world spun around you, and before you could call out to Joel, everything went dark.

When you opened your eyes again, you were lying on the couch, Joel’s worried face hovering above you. His hand was gripping yours tightly, and there was fear in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before.

“Hey, hey,” he said softly, his voice shaky. “Stay with me. I’m gonna take you to the doctor, alright? You passed out.”

You tried to sit up, but your head throbbed, and Joel gently pushed you back down. “No arguments,” he said firmly. “Somethin’s not right, and we’re gettin’ it checked out.”

You nodded weakly, the fear creeping in as the gravity of the situation began to settle. You hadn’t felt like yourself in days, and now it was clear that it wasn’t just exhaustion. Something was wrong, and as much as you wanted to stay strong for Joel and Sarah, the worry was starting to gnaw at you.

Joel pressed a kiss to your forehead, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes.

So the next morning, you decided to go to the doctor alone. You assured Joel over breakfast that everything would be fine, putting on your bravest smile as you sipped your coffee. "It’s probably just stress or maybe… maybe even another pregnancy," you joked, trying to keep things light.

Joel wasn’t entirely convinced. His eyes followed your every movement, lingering with concern, but you pressed a kiss to his cheek and promised you’d text him as soon as you knew something. "You’ve got Sarah to watch today. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine."

As you sat in the doctor’s office later that day, waiting for your results, you kept replaying those words in your head

I’ll be fine. You wanted to believe it. You needed to believe it.

The doctor finally entered the room, a somber expression on his face. You sat up a little straighter, a nervous laugh bubbling up as you tried to break the tension. "So… what’s the verdict? Am I pregnant, or do I just need to get more sleep?"

He didn’t smile. That was your first clue.

"We ran some tests based on your symptoms," he began slowly, carefully. "And… I’m sorry to tell you this, but it’s not what we hoped."

Your heart plummeted, the air in the room suddenly thick and suffocating. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice trembling despite your best effort to stay calm.

The doctor took a deep breath, his gaze steady but filled with sympathy. "The dizziness, the fatigue… it's not stress or pregnancy. The tests show signs of a rare, aggressive illness. I’m afraid it’s terminal."

For a moment, you couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. It felt like the words were echoing in a tunnel, distant and surreal. "Terminal?" The word barely escaped your lips.

He nodded gently. "I’m very sorry. It’s advanced, and from what we’ve seen, it’s progressed faster than we anticipated. There are treatments to manage symptoms, but… it’s not curable."

Your world shattered in that instant. Everything around you seemed to blur and slow, the weight of the news crashing down like a tidal wave. The future you had imagined, raising Sarah, growing old with Joel, suddenly felt like a distant dream, slipping away before you could grasp it.

You sat there in stunned silence, your mind reeling. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, trying to keep some semblance of control. You didn’t want to break down, not yet.

"What… what’s the timeline?" you finally managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

"It’s hard to say," the doctor replied gently. "Months, maybe a year. We’ll need to monitor closely and discuss the best options moving forward."

The rest of the appointment passed in a haze. You nodded at the right moments, accepted the information he gave you about treatment options, but none of it seemed to stick. The only thing you could think about was how you were going to tell Joel. How you were going to explain to him that your time together was now limited.

As you walked out of the office, the afternoon sun seemed too bright, too cheerful for what you had just learned. You felt numb, as though you were moving through a dream, detached from the reality that had just been placed in front of you.

You sat in your car for a long time, staring at your phone, trying to figure out how to text Joel. You had promised him everything would be fine. You had been so sure of it.

But now, you had to go home and face the hardest conversation of your life.

How were you going to tell the man you loved, the father of your child, that you were dying?

With trembling hands, you finally typed a message

On my way home:)

++++++++

You pulled up to the house, gripping the steering wheel as if it could somehow anchor you to reality.

A year.

You had a year to watch your daughter grow, to be with Joel. It felt so impossibly short, like sand slipping through your fingers. Every moment from now on was precious, but how were you supposed to tell him?

Taking a deep breath, you got out of the car and made your way to the front door. The smell of lunch wafted through the air as you stepped inside, your mind momentarily distracted by the warmth and familiarity of home. Laughter echoed from the kitchen, and your heart ached knowing how much this place had become your safe haven, filled with the people you loved most.

"Mommy!" Sarah’s excited voice snapped you back to reality as she came running towards you, her little arms outstretched.

You bent down, forcing a smile as you scooped her into your arms, hugging her tight, burying your face in her hair. "Hey, baby girl," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion as you held her a little longer than usual.

As you straightened up, you felt Joel’s eyes on you instantly. He was standing in the kitchen with Tommy and his new girlfriend, Maria, preparing lunch. His gaze locked onto yours, concern immediately flashing across his face. He knew something was wrong.

"We’ll talk later," Joel mouthed quietly, giving you a look that said he wasn’t going to let it go. He always had a way of reading you, knowing when something wasn’t right.

You nodded, your heart sinking further as Sarah wiggled out of your arms and ran back to play. Tommy greeted you with a grin, oblivious to the weight of the news you carried.

"Hey there!" Tommy said, tossing a dish towel over his shoulder. "You’re just in time for lunch. Maria made her famous chili. You’re gonna love it."

You forced another smile, but it felt hollow. "Sounds great, Tommy," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Maria looked up from the stove, giving you a warm smile as well. "It’s good to see you. Hope you’re hungry."

But your appetite was the last thing on your mind. You felt like you were moving on autopilot, helping set the table, making small talk, but your thoughts kept circling back to the doctor’s words. Every glance Joel shot your way reminded you of the conversation you still had to have.

Lunch passed in a blur, the clatter of plates and the hum of conversation surrounding you as you tried to stay present. But every time you looked at Joel or Sarah, your heart clenched tighter. How could you tell them? How could you face what was coming?

After lunch, Tommy and Maria offered to clean up, and you were grateful for the momentary reprieve. Joel came up behind you, gently placing a hand on your back. "Come with me," he said softly, leading you into the living room.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Joel turned to face you, his expression filled with worry. "What’s going on?" he asked, his voice steady but laced with fear. "You’ve been off since you got home."

You looked into his eyes, the man you loved more than anything, and you felt the tears welling up. This was it. There was no avoiding it now.

"Joel…" Your voice cracked, and you took a deep breath, trying to find the strength to say the words. "It wasn’t another pregnancy."

Joel’s brow furrowed as he stepped closer, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "Then what is it? What did they say?"

Tears finally spilled over as you choked out the words you’d been dreading. "I’m sick, Joel. It’s bad. The doctor… the doctor said I have a year. Maybe less."

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Joel’s hand dropped from your face, his eyes widening in disbelief. "What?" he whispered, like he couldn’t quite process what you’d just said.

You nodded, tears streaming down your face. "I’m dying, Joel. There’s nothing they can do. It’s a terminal illness, and… and I only have a year."

The room was silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Joel just stared at you, his face pale, as if the ground had been ripped out from under him. "No… no, there has to be something… some kind of treatment." His voice cracked, panic seeping in.

You shook your head, your own heart breaking as you watched the man you loved fall apart in front of you. "There’s nothing, Joel. They can manage the symptoms, but… it’s only a matter of time."

Joel let out a ragged breath, his eyes filling with tears as he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, like if he could just hold on, it would somehow change everything. "No, no… not you. Not now."

You clung to him, sobbing into his chest, feeling the devastation in every fiber of his being as he held you. "I’m so sorry," you whispered. "I’m so, so sorry."

Joel pulled back, cupping your face in his hands as tears streaked down his own cheeks. "We’ll fight this, okay? We’ll fight this with everything we’ve got. We’ll make the most of every damn second." His voice was thick with emotion, his determination cutting through the pain.

Joel's resolve was fierce and unwavering, a beacon of strength amidst the overwhelming sorrow. His hands gently but firmly cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that continued to fall. "We’ll fight this," he repeated, his voice steadier now, a promise amidst the anguish. "I know it's not fair, but we can't give up. We have to make every moment count."

You nodded, trying to draw strength from his determination, though the weight of the reality still felt crushing. "I just want to make sure Sarah has the best memories of us," you said softly, your voice trembling. "I want her to know how much she's loved, even if I'm not there."

Joel's eyes softened, and he nodded in understanding. "She will know, darlin'. We'll make sure of it. We'll do everything we can to give her the best of us, to show her how much she means to us."

The raw emotion in his voice was palpable, and you could see the resolve in his eyes. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch as gentle as ever.

“I won’t lose you” he whispered, to himself mostly.

+++++++++++

The house was quiet, the gentle hum of the night providing a somber backdrop to your restless thoughts. Despite the late hour, you found yourself unable to sleep, your mind racing with the weight of what you’d just shared with Joel. The sadness and anxiety seemed to follow you as you moved through the house, a heavy blanket of worry that pressed down on you.

Driven by an instinctive need to be close to your daughter, you quietly made your way to Sarah’s room. The hallway was dimly lit, the soft glow of a nightlight casting a warm, reassuring light. You carefully opened the door, trying not to disturb the peacefulness within.

Sarah’s room was filled with the soft, comforting clutter of childhood—a colorful mobile spinning slowly above her crib, stuffed animals scattered around, and drawings she’d made hanging on the walls. You stepped inside, your heart aching at the sight of your little girl sleeping so innocently.

She was nestled under her covers, her tiny chest rising and falling with each gentle breath. The moonlight streamed through the window, casting a serene glow on her peaceful face. You approached the crib quietly, your footsteps muffled on the soft carpet.

You stood there for a moment, just watching her sleep, the tears that had previously flowed now subsiding into a quiet sadness. Seeing her so calm and content was both comforting and heartbreaking. You reached out a hand, gently brushing a lock of hair from her face, your touch tender and full of love.

As you gazed at her, the reality of your situation seemed to crystallize in a new way. This precious child, so full of life and promise, was the center of your world. The thought of not being there to watch her grow up was almost too much to bear.

You took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself. "I love you so much, Sarah," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I’m going to make sure you know that, every single day."

The soft rustle of the door alerted you to Joel’s presence. He had followed you quietly, sensing your distress. He stepped into the room, his eyes softening as he saw you standing by Sarah’s crib. Without a word, he came to stand beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in a comforting embrace.

"She’s beautiful," Joel murmured, his voice gentle, filled sadness.  

You nodded, leaning into him, the warmth of his presence a small but significant comfort. "I just… I want to make sure she’s okay. I want to make sure she remembers how much I love her.”

Joel’s breath hitched as he listened to your words, the weight of your statement crashing over him like a tidal wave. He stood silently for a moment, his arm still around you, but his grip tightening as he tried to hold himself together. The reality of the situation—the harsh truth of your illness and the limited time you had left—was almost too much for him to bear.

As your words sank in, Joel's composure began to crack. The tears that had been pooling in his eyes finally spilled over, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. He buried his face into your shoulder, his body trembling as he let the pain and grief flow freely.

"I can't… I can't believe this," Joel choked out, his voice breaking. "You’re not supposed to go… not now. Not when we’ve finally got everything we ever wanted."

You turned to him, your own tears mixing with his as you gently cupped his face in your hands. "Joel, I wish there was something I could do to change this," you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. "But right now, all we can do is make the most of the time we have left. I need you to be strong, for Sarah, for us."

Joel looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of anguish and determination. "I don’t know how to be strong without you. You’re everything to me."

You wiped away his tears with your thumb, trying to offer some solace. "You have to. For Sarah. She needs you just as much as I do. We both do."

Joel nodded slowly, his sobs subsiding into a series of ragged breaths. He pulled you closer, holding you tightly as if he could somehow shield you from the inevitable. "I’ll do it," he promised, his voice hoarse. "I’ll be strong.”

You rested your forehead against his, your hearts beating in sync as you shared this painful but precious moment together. Every second between you both counted.

“Let me be with you through this. Let me go with you to the doctor and take care of you” he pleaded.

+++++++++++

You felt the warmth of Joel’s breath against your forehead, the intensity of his love and fear palpable in every touch. His words were both a comfort and a heartbreaking reminder of the reality you were facing.

"Joel," you whispered, your voice trembling, "I need you to be with me through this, too. I can’t do it alone. But I want to be strong for you and Sarah, and I want you to be strong for us."

Joel nodded, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "I’ll be here. Every step of the way. I promise."

He gently pulled you back from the crib, guiding you to sit on the edge of Sarah's bed. He sat beside you, taking your hand in his and holding it tightly. The simple gesture of his hand enveloping yours was a small but powerful symbol of his unwavering support.

"We’ll face this together," he said, his voice steadying as he spoke. "We’ll go to every appointment, handle every treatment, and make sure you’re as comfortable as you can be. We’ll make every day count."

You squeezed his hand, a faint smile touching your lips despite the tears streaming down your face. "Thank you, Joel. It means the world to me."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I love you," he murmured. "And I’ll do everything I can to make sure you know that, every single day."

You both sat there for a while, the quiet of the night punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of your sleeping daughter. In that intimate space, amidst the uncertainty and fear, you found a sliver of peace. Together, you faced the daunting road ahead with love and resilience, clinging to each other and to the hope of making the most of every precious moment you had left.

Eventually, Joel helped you up, and you both quietly left Sarah’s room, closing the door softly behind you. As you walked back to your own bedroom, you felt Joel’s steady presence beside you, and though the future was uncertain, you knew that, with him by your side, you would face whatever came with the strength and love that had always defined your life together.

++++++++

Time seemed to slip through your fingers, each day marked by the weight of your diagnosis and the ever-present pain of knowing how limited your time was. Every sunset felt like a reminder of the time slipping away—one day less to share with Joel, one day less to hold Sarah. The urgency of every moment grew more intense, and you clung to each precious second.

You and Joel had a scheduled visit to the doctor, and the tension in the air was palpable. The doctor explained a treatment plan that could help manage your symptoms and ease your pain, but the prospect of spending even more time in a hospital filled you with dread.

As you sat in the sterile, white room, Joel's eyes were fixed on the doctor, but he kept glancing at you, searching for some sign of agreement or understanding. The doctor’s voice was calm and professional, but Joel’s anxiety was palpable as he tried to take in every detail.

"You should start this treatment as soon as possible," the doctor said. "It will help manage the pain and improve your quality of life."

You shook your head, your chest tightening. "I don’t want to be in and out of hospitals. I want to be with Joel and Sarah. I want to spend whatever time I have left with them, not stuck in a hospital room."

Joel’s face reddened with frustration and concern. "But this could make things easier for you. You don’t have to suffer through the pain if you take this treatment!"

"I don’t want to spend my days in a hospital!" you argued back, your voice rising. "I want to be with my family, not lying in a bed surrounded by machines and IV drips. Every day I spend there is a day I lose with you.”

The argument grew heated, both of you caught in the clash between your desire to make the most of your time and Joel's desperation to find any way to alleviate your suffering.

Joel’s face was a mixture of anger and helplessness as he tried to make you understand. "I’m just trying to help you! I want you to be as comfortable as possible. I can’t bear the thought of you in pain."

You took a deep breath, your emotions raw. "I know you’re trying to help, Joel. But I need to live, not just survive. I want to hold Sarah, kiss you goodnight, and make memories with you. I don’t want my last days to be filled with hospital rooms and treatments. I want to be where I can be with you both, as much as possible."

The room fell silent, the gravity of your words sinking in. Joel’s shoulders slumped, and he looked away, his hands gripping the edge of the chair tightly. The fight had left him, replaced by a deep, painful realization of the limited time you both had.

Finally, Joel reached out, taking your hand in his with a gentleness that belied the struggle he was feeling. "Alright," he said quietly, his voice weary and tired.

“I don’t want you both to forget me” you said, “I need to know I was important.”

Joel’s grip on your hand tightened, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He looked at you with a mixture of sadness and determination, his voice cracking as he spoke. “You’ll never be forgotten. You are the most important person in our lives. Sarah will know all about how much you loved her, and I’ll make sure she knows how much you meant to me, too.”

You nodded, your heart aching at the depth of his words. “I just need to be sure that I’m leaving something behind—something that tells you both how much I love you.”

Joel wiped a tear from his cheek, his face softening with a pained smile. “You’ve already left us with so much. Your love, your laughter, your strength… it’s all a part of who we are. And it will be with us, always.”

You squeezed his hand, finding some comfort in his words, even as your heart ached with the reality of your situation. “I want to make sure we make every day count. I want Sarah to have the best memories of us together, of our family.”

Joel nodded; his expression resolute. “We will. Every day will be filled with love and laughter, and we’ll make sure Sarah knows how much you meant to her. We’ll make the most of this time, I promise.”

++++++++

The days that followed were a whirlwind of bittersweet moments, as you and Joel made the most of every precious second together. Despite the heaviness that lingered over your days, there was a sense of determination to fill them with love and joy for both yourself and Sarah.

Every morning, you and Joel would wake up early, watching Sarah’s tiny face light up with a smile as you all shared breakfast together. The simple pleasures of family life became even more cherished. You would spend afternoons at the park, where Sarah’s laughter rang out as she chased butterflies and played on the swings, with Joel pushing her higher and higher.

One of the things you enjoyed most was having movie nights. The three of you would snuggle on the couch, watching animated films and eating popcorn, with Joel often making silly faces to make Sarah giggle. You cherished these moments of simple happiness, knowing they would be treasured memories for your little girl.

Joel also made sure to capture these memories. He took countless photos of you with Sarah, documenting every milestone and every cherished moment. There were days filled with arts and crafts, with Sarah’s tiny hands covered in paint as she created colorful drawings that you proudly displayed around the house.

In the evenings, when Sarah was asleep, you and Joel would sit together, talking about the future and reminiscing about your past. There were tears, but also laughter, as you shared stories and dreams. Joel’s presence was a constant source of comfort and strength, and you found solace in the way he held you close, even as you both faced the reality of the time you had left.

On weekends, you would go on family outings—visiting the zoo, going on picnics, and taking long walks in nature. Joel made sure these outings were filled with joy and wonder for Sarah, creating a world where she felt loved and cherished.

As the months passed, there were moments of quiet reflection. Joel would often hold you close while watching Sarah sleep, whispering reassurances and promises to you. Even in the midst of your struggle, you found strength in the love and support of your family.

And when the time came to say goodbye, it was with the knowledge that you had filled your days with love, laughter, and unforgettable memories. You left behind a legacy of warmth and affection that would continue to live on in the hearts of those you loved most.

++++++++++

the moments you shared with Joel became even more precious. Despite the looming shadow of your illness, you both found solace in each other's arms, drawing strength from the love that had always been a cornerstone of your relationship.

In the evenings, after Sarah had gone to bed, Joel would take your hand and lead you to the quiet sanctuary of your bedroom. There, you would spend time talking, reminiscing, and dreaming of a future that, though limited, was filled with love. You’d sit together on the edge of the bed, holding each other close, sharing whispers of gratitude and affection. The conversations often revolved around how much you meant to each other, the deep love you had for one another, and the life you had built together.

“I’m so grateful for every moment we’ve had,” Joel would say, his voice soft and filled with emotion. “You’ve made my life so much richer, so much more meaningful. I don’t know how I’ll manage without you, but I know I’ll carry you with me every single day.”

You’d look into his eyes, feeling a profound sense of connection and love. “You’ve been my rock, Joel. Through everything, you’ve been there for me. I’ve loved every second of our life together, and I’m so glad I got to share this time with you.”

Joel would gently brush your hair back from your face, his touch tender and loving. “I’m going to make sure Sarah knows just how much you loved her. I’ll keep your memory alive in everything we do. She’s going to grow up knowing how special you were.”

You’d smile through your tears, finding comfort in his words. “And I’ll be with you both in every step you take, every laugh, every tear. I’ll be in the memories we’ve made, in the love that we shared.”

On weekends, you and Joel would find small adventures to embark on, just the two of you. Whether it was taking a scenic drive to your favorite spots, having a quiet dinner at a restaurant you both loved, or simply sitting together in the backyard under the stars, you made sure these moments were filled with love and laughter.

One night, after a particularly special dinner where you reminisced about your favorite moments together, Joel held you close and whispered, “I love you more than words can say. I want you to know that you are everything to me. I can’t imagine my life without you, but I’m so grateful for the time we’ve had.”

You snuggled closer, feeling the warmth of his love. “I love you too, Joel. Every day with you has been a gift, and I’m so glad I got to share this journey with you. You’ve made my life so full.”

++++++++++

One evening, you and Joel had invited Tommy and Maria over for dinner. It was a comforting routine that allowed you to share joyful moments with family, despite the shadow that loomed over your days. The table was set with your favorite dishes, laughter and conversation flowing freely as you all enjoyed the meal together.

Sarah was in her high chair, delighting in the company and the food, her giggles adding a touch of lightness to the atmosphere. Joel was by your side, occasionally glancing at you with a mixture of love and concern. Tommy and Maria chatted animatedly, their warmth creating a cocoon of familiarity and comfort.

But as the evening wore on, you began to feel a growing unease. A wave of dizziness washed over you, and you tried to brush it off, attributing it to the long day and the stress you had been under. However, the feeling didn’t subside. Instead, it intensified, leaving you feeling weak and disoriented.

Joel noticed your discomfort immediately. His face tightened with concern as he reached out to steady you. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You forced a smile, but the effort was clearly draining. “I’m just feeling a bit off. I think I need to sit down for a minute.”

Tommy and Maria’s conversation faltered as they noticed the change in the mood. Tommy’s eyes met Joel’s, and the unease was palpable. “Maybe you should go to the hospital,” Tommy suggested gently, his voice carrying a note of urgency.

Joel’s expression shifted to one of determination. He stood up, helping you to your feet with a steadying arm. “We need to get you checked out,” he said firmly, his worry evident.

Maria quickly gathered your things, while Joel helped you into the car. Sarah, sensing the tension, looked up with curious eyes as Tommy comforted her, assuring her everything would be alright.

The drive to the hospital was a blur of anxious thoughts and unspoken fears. Joel’s hand remained tightly clasped around yours, offering both support and strength. The hospital’s bright lights and bustling atmosphere seemed almost surreal as you arrived, your strength waning with each step.

Joel rushed you through the emergency room, the urgency of the situation clear in his eyes. The doctors and nurses quickly took over, guiding you through a series of tests and assessments. Joel remained by your side, his presence a constant source of comfort amid the chaos.

As the minutes ticked by, you could see the worry etched deeply on Joel’s face. He paced back and forth, occasionally glancing at the clock as if willing time to slow down. The tension in the room was palpable, with Tommy and Maria waiting in the hallway, their faces etched with concern.

Finally, the doctor emerged, and Joel’s heart sank as he saw the somber expression on the doctor’s face. He immediately went to the doctor, his voice trembling as he asked for information. The doctor’s words were gentle but clear: your condition had worsened, and it was only a matter of time.

Joel’s world seemed to tilt, and he struggled to hold back his tears as he returned to your side. He sat beside you, his hand gripping yours tightly. “I’m here with you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m not leaving.”

You looked into his eyes, feeling a profound sense of gratitude and love despite the pain you were experiencing. “Thank you for being here with me”

As you lay in the hospital bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the overhead lights, you found solace in Joel’s presence beside you. His hand was still gripping yours, the warmth and strength of his touch providing a small measure of comfort amidst the uncertainty.

Joel looked at you, his eyes brimming with tears, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. "You know," he began, his voice trembling slightly, "I keep thinking about how we first met."

You managed a faint smile, despite the heaviness in your chest. "At this very hospital," you said softly. "It feels like a lifetime ago."

Joel nodded, a chuckle escaping his lips, though it was tinged with sadness. "Yeah, I remember that day.

You squeezed his hand gently. "And now, here we are again. It's almost poetic, in a way."

Joel’s eyes filled with tears once more as he looked at you, the weight of the moment crashing down on him. "It’s just… so damn unfair. We had so much more to experience together, so many more memories to make. I thought we’d have years, not just a few precious months."

The tears fell freely now, streaming down Joel’s face as he struggled to contain his grief. He bowed his head, his shoulders shaking with sobs. "I don’t know how to say goodbye. I don’t know how to live in a world without you."

You reached out, cupping his face in your hands. "You don’t have to say goodbye yet," you whispered, your own voice breaking. "We still have these moments, these precious days together. And even after I’m gone, you’ll carry my love with you. I’ll be in your heart, in Sarah’s laughter, and in every little thing we’ve shared."

Joel nodded, trying to steady his breath as he wiped away his tears. "I’ll hold on to that. I’ll remember every moment we had, every laugh, every kiss. I’ll make sure Sarah knows how much you loved her, and I’ll keep your memory alive in everything we do."

You gazed into his eyes, finding strength in his resolve. "And I’ll be with you both, always. In the memories we’ve made and the love we’ve shared."

Joel leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, his tears mingling with yours. "I love you so much," he murmured. "More than words can ever express."

"I love you too," you whispered back. "Forever and always."

The night wore on, the hospital room growing quieter with each passing hour. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor became a solemn reminder of the fleeting time left. Your breaths were growing shallower, each one a struggle as the weight of your condition became increasingly apparent.

Joel stayed by your side, his hand still holding yours with a steady grip. His eyes, red from crying, remained fixed on you, his face a mask of heartache and determination. He knew this was the final chapter of your journey, and he was determined to be with you every step of the way.

With a tender and measured touch, Joel reached for Sarah, who had been resting in the care of Tommy and Maria. He gently carried her into the room, her small body nestled against his chest. The sight of her, innocent and unaware of the gravity of the situation, brought a new wave of tears to your eyes.

Joel carefully placed Sarah in your arms, her soft, warm weight providing a bittersweet comfort. You looked down at her cherubic face, feeling a surge of love and sorrow. Your heart ached knowing that you wouldn’t be there to watch her grow up, but you were determined to leave her with a sense of your love.

“Hey, my sweet girl,” you whispered, your voice weak but filled with affection. Sarah looked up at you with curious eyes, her tiny fingers grasping yours. “Mommy loves you so much.”

Joel sat beside you, his hand resting on Sarah’s small back. He looked at you with a mixture of pain and gratitude. “She’s beautiful. She’s going to grow up knowing how much you loved her.”

You smiled faintly, your eyes meeting Joel’s. “Promise me you’ll tell her stories about me. About our time together, and how much we loved each other.”

Joel nodded, tears streaming down his face. “I promise. She’ll know all about you. She’ll know how amazing you were, how much you loved her, and how you made every moment special.”

As your breaths grew slower, the room seemed to hold its breath with you. Joel leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m here with you,” he whispered. “You’re not alone.”

You turned your gaze back to Sarah, your voice trembling as you spoke to her. “I’ll always be with you, sweetheart. In your heart, in your dreams, and in every beautiful thing you do. Mommy loves you more than anything.”

Sarah cooed softly, her tiny fingers reaching out to touch your face. You gently caressed her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin. “Be good for Daddy. He’ll take care of you, and he’ll love you just as much as I do.”

Joel’s tears fell freely now, his face buried in his hands as he struggled to contain his grief. He took a deep breath, his voice cracking with emotion as he spoke to you. “We’ll be okay. We’ll remember you. We’ll make sure Sarah knows how special you were, and we’ll keep you in our hearts forever.”

You took a final, shuddering breath, your strength waning. You looked at Joel one last time, seeing the depth of his love and commitment. “I love you,” you whispered. “Forever and always.”

With that final promise, you closed your eyes, feeling a deep sense of peace. The love that had defined your life, the love that you had shared with Joel and Sarah, would continue to live on in their hearts, a testament to the beautiful and profound bond you had created together.

+++++++++++

The room fell into an overwhelming silence after your final breath. The beeping of the heart monitor ceased, replaced by the quiet sobs of Joel and the soft, rhythmic breathing of Sarah, who remained nestled in your arms. The gravity of the moment settled heavily on Joel, and he carefully took Sarah from your lifeless embrace, holding her close as he struggled to contain his grief.

Tommy and Maria, who had been waiting outside, came in quietly, their eyes red and their faces etched with sorrow. They stood at a respectful distance, offering their support and understanding as Joel cradled Sarah in his arms, tears streaming down his face.

Joel gently laid you back onto the hospital bed, his fingers lingering on your hand as if hoping to feel a last trace of warmth. His heart was shattered, but he knew he had to be strong for Sarah. He reached for the small bundle of joy that was their daughter, holding her close and whispering words of comfort to her.

He glanced around the room, taking in the reality of the situation. The once lively conversations, the shared laughter, and the promises of a future together seemed like a distant memory now. It was a stark contrast to the present, a heavy silence filled with the echoes of your love and the pain of your absence.

Tommy stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Joel’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of everything,” he said softly. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Maria nodded; her eyes filled with compassion. “We’ll help you with all the arrangements. We’re here for you, for Sarah.”

Joel managed a nod, his voice hoarse as he replied, “Thank you.”

It was all he managed to say.

+++++++++++

Joel stumbled through the front door of the house, the once familiar warmth now replaced by an overwhelming coldness. Each step felt heavier as he moved through the rooms, his heart aching with the absence of your presence. The house, once filled with laughter and love, now felt hollow and silent.

He made his way to the bedroom, the place where you had shared so many moments of intimacy and comfort. As he entered the room, the emptiness was palpable. The bed, once shared, now seemed too large and lonely. The space you had filled with your presence and love was now a void, echoing with memories.

Joel collapsed onto the bed, his chest heaving with the intensity of his grief. He buried his face in the pillow, the scent of you still lingering faintly. Tears streamed down his face as he allowed himself to fully embrace the sorrow that had overtaken him. The silence of the room was only broken by the sound of his sobs, a raw and unrestrained expression of the depth of his pain.

He clutched the pillow, imagining it was you, and whispered your name through his tears. “I miss you so much,” he choked out, his voice breaking with every word. “I don’t know how to do this without you.”

The room felt like a shrine to your memory, filled with remnants of your life together—the framed photographs on the nightstands, the soft glow of the bedside lamp, and the faint traces of your touch. Each item seemed to amplify the void left behind.

Joel’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and regrets. He replayed moments from the past—times when you had laughed together, held each other, and dreamed of a future that now felt out of reach. The memories were both a comfort and a torment, a reminder of what had been lost and what would never be again.

As he lay there, the exhaustion of the day and the emotional toll finally began to weigh on him. He knew he had to be strong for Sarah, but in this moment, alone in the room that held so many of your shared memories, he allowed himself to grieve. The night stretched out before him, a long and lonely vigil as he wrestled with the enormity of his loss.

Hours later, Joel eventually drifted into a fitful sleep, the weight of his grief a constant companion. He knew that tomorrow would bring more challenges, more pain, and more adjustments to a life forever altered by your absence. But for now, the quiet of the night and the space you had shared was all he had, and he clung to it as a bittersweet reminder of the love that would always remain in his heart.

+++++++++++++

On Sarah’s thirteenth birthday, Joel felt a mix of pride and bittersweet nostalgia. It was a significant milestone, and he wanted it to be special for her. The day had been filled with laughter, friends, and celebrations, but there was one more moment that he had been waiting for—a moment he had kept close to his heart.

After the festivities had calmed down and Sarah was surrounded by her friends and family, Joel gently called her aside. “There’s something I want to give you,” he said, his voice carrying a tender note of emotion.

Sarah looked at him with curiosity as he led her to a quiet corner of the house. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped package. The paper was adorned with a delicate floral design, and a note was attached with a ribbon.

“This is something your mom left for you,” Joel said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “She knew this day would come, and she wanted you to have this.”

Sarah’s eyes widened with surprise as she carefully untied the ribbon and removed the wrapping. Inside was a beautifully crafted jewelry box, its surface intricately designed with floral patterns and delicate engravings. As she lifted the lid, a soft gasp escaped her lips.

Inside the box lay a locket, its surface engraved with the initials “S” and “J,” and a small, framed photo of you and Sarah, taken when she was just a baby. The locket contained two small, precious pictures—one of you, and one of Sarah as a newborn.

Sarah’s eyes filled with tears as she looked up at Joel. “I’ve never seen this before,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Joel nodded, his own eyes misty. “Your mom wanted you to have it on your thirteenth birthday. She wanted you to know how much she loved you and how proud she was of the person you’re becoming.”

Sarah carefully picked up the locket, her fingers brushing the photo of you. “Thank you,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “It means so much to me.”

Joel pulled her into a gentle embrace, holding her close as she cried softly against him. “She loved you more than anything,” Joel said quietly. “And she’s always with us, in our hearts and in our memories.”

As Sarah held the locket close, she looked up at Joel with a grateful smile. “I’m going to keep this forever,” she said, her voice filled with determination. “It’s a piece of her that I can always carry with me.”

Joel smiled through his tears, feeling a profound sense of peace. “She would be so proud of you,” he said. “And she’ll always be a part of your life, just like she is a part of mine.”

As Sarah clasped the locket around her neck, a gentle warmth seemed to fill the room. Joel noticed a soft, iridescent glow forming in the air, gradually taking shape. His heart skipped a beat as he saw what seemed to be a delicate butterfly, its wings shimmering with a myriad of colors that danced in the light.

The butterfly hovered for a moment, almost as if it were assessing its surroundings, before it gracefully fluttered over to Sarah and Joel. It landed gently on Sarah’s shoulder, its tiny wings fluttering in a serene, almost ethereal manner.

Sarah’s eyes widened in awe as she reached out a trembling hand. The butterfly, with its captivating, almost familiar patterns, seemed to radiate a gentle, comforting presence. Joel stood beside her, his tears now mingled with a profound sense of wonder and calm.

“It’s her,” Joel said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “It’s really her.”

Sarah’s face lit up with a smile, her earlier sadness replaced by a serene joy. “Mom,” she said quietly, her eyes fixed on the butterfly. “It’s like she’s here with us.”

Joel nodded, his heart swelling with emotion. “She’s always with us, in every moment, in every memory. This is her way of reminding us that she’s never truly gone.”

The butterfly remained perched on Sarah’s shoulder for a few more moments before it gently took flight, circling the room in a graceful dance. It finally settled on a nearby windowsill, where it continued to flutter its wings, casting a soft glow in the dim light.

Sarah and Joel watched in awe, their smiles reflecting the profound connection they felt in that moment. The butterfly, with its vibrant colors and delicate grace, was a symbol of the love and presence that transcended time and space.

As the butterfly eventually fluttered away into the night, leaving a trail of shimmering light behind, Joel wrapped his arm around Sarah, pulling her into a warm embrace. “She’s always here, with us,” Joel said softly. “And we’ll carry her memory with us, every day.”

Sarah hugged her father tightly, her heart full of the love and comfort that the butterfly had symbolized. “I know,” she whispered. “And I’ll keep this locket close to remind me of her.”

+++++++++++++++

[scekrex]

Consider chasing dick instead of pussy

prompt by @akiriyo

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language & implied sexual intimacy I guess

note: not beta read bc idc

You were completely zoned out, your hand was supporting your head so that it wouldn't slap down on the table.

It was yet another day of Adam complaining - seriously the guy was complaining more about his ex wives than you two were having a normal conversation about anything else. Because no matter what you were talking about, Adam somehow always found a way to talk about Lilith and Eve. And once started, his ranting could go on for hours, there were countless nights without sleep simply because the man wouldn't stop talking about his fucking cheating bitches of ex wives. And with every other sentence he then claimed that ‘he’s totally over it’ and that he doesn't need them anyways.

Fucking bullshit.

“Yo, are you even listening, bitch?” the first man asked all of a sudden, fingers snapping in front of your face to get your attention.

“You should've dated a fucking guy instead of these bitches, y’know. All fucking day you keep complaining about how awful they were, how they cheated on you with Lucifer, how they betrayed you and how you'll never be able to get into a healthy relationship with a woman ever again because of those two cunts. Well then fucking quit chasing after pussy and try dick, you fucking idiot.” In all honesty? You really didn't know where that came from nor were you sure if Adam had been able to understand you because of how fast you were talking but by God it felt good. 

Because for once there was silence. Pure, blissful silence.

“What?” was all that came from your counterpart. His golden eyes were widened, confusion was written all over his face and he seemed truly taken aback. You simply huffed, now that you had started it, you might've might as well finish it.

“Y’know all I hear from you lately is ‘That whore Lilith did this’ and ‘Fuckin cheating cunt Eve did that' fucking quit it already and date guys. If you would've looked at me back in Eden for once, just fucking once, you would've been able to save yourself a lot of trouble. But instead you were chasing bitches that were rather bouncing on fucking Lucifer's dick than yours.”

His expression changed, confusion was replaced with realization and you just thanked God that this man seemed to have enough of his brain left to catch on to what you were saying.

“Fuck, you-” the brunette started. He had sure been expecting something but this? This wasn't something he had been noticing, not until you brought it up that was. “You were visiting Eden because of me?”

“Ding, ding, full points. You want a fucking trophy for being able to follow my words?” you bit back, slightly annoyed by his oblivion. Had Adam really been that blind to not notice the ways you've been staring at him a little longer than friends did? That you were always there for him, no matter how late, no matter what?

Adam's expression soured slightly at your choice of words and he shot a quick “Fuck you” your way. “You could've just fucking said so y’know.” Another huff escaped you as you got up from the chair you were sitting on to be on eye level with him - Adam was still sitting on the chair across the small table. “I could've just said so? Are you kidding? I've been fucking trying to but every time I tried you brought up your ex whores.”

Adam was silent again, he did nothing but to simply look you in the eyes.

That was until he grabbed you by the collar of your robe and pulled you in roughly. You stumbled slightly forwards, your knees hitting against his as your arm shot towards the backrest of the chair Adam was sitting on in order to not collapse on top of him. And then his lips brushed against yours, harshly and firm, far from soft and lovingly. One of his hands wandered to your neck, he made sure you wouldn't pull away too soon. But you weren't thinking about ending the kiss, you had been waiting for thousands of years for this to happen.

Adam parted his legs to pull you in closer, your chest was now flush against his and his hand that had been gripping your collar just moments ago was now on your ass.

And all you were able to think about was that you now had an effective method to shut Adam up properly.

[selfindulgentpoorlywritten]

My Sweet Girl (Matthew Tkachuk Imagine)

This is by far-- I repeat, by far-- the longest reader insert I've ever written. It's my submission for @wyattjohnston 's Winter Fic Exchange, a gift for @matthewtkachuk ! Excellent URL, by the way.

The creative process here went as follows: Shelbs shows me her On Repeat Spotify playlist -> I see The Band Camino on it and remember that I love that band -> I listen to nothing but them for two weeks -> I hear the song Know It All and am struck with inspiration -> I write this and inflict it on everyone else.

I jumped around a bit while writing, so please let me know if there's anything I screwed up! This is also the type of fic that has had 20+ tabs of Wikipedia pages, ESPN articles, and stats pages open on my computer for two months, but there was still information I couldn't find, so please be gentle with any inconsistencies.

Anyway, I truly hope that you enjoy this one! I apologize for being a day late posting, my job sucks.

Rating: M

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuk/fem!Reader

Words: 26, 028

Warnings: a lot of angst

Contains: best friend's brother, friends to ??? to strangers to lovers, situationship, idiots in love, everyone knows but them, Matthew being kind of a dick, guest appearances by the Weinberg-Hughes family and Jane Gaudreau

Summary: As Brady's best friend, it was your duty to love and support him. You're pretty sure falling in love with his brother does not count as "support", but here you are.

-----

You weren’t expecting this to be as hard as it is.

Luckily, you’d been given a little warning beforehand, but apparently a week wasn’t enough to prepare yourself. Was it kind of fucked up that the news had to come from Brady, because Matthew hadn’t bothered to tell you himself? Yeah, kind of. Sure, Brady and you have been best friends for years, but it’s not like you’re not close with Matthew, too.

You hadn’t realized what was going on at first, convincing yourself not to be upset when Matthew’s texts slowed and his calls stopped outright. It had been the beginning of the playoffs, you reasoned, of course he was going to be too busy to talk to you as much. Despite the fact that communication between the two of you had never waned because of the season before. It was his first year on a new team, you’d told yourself, a team with a great shot at the Cup, at that. You could deal with missing him a little more than usual if that’s what he needed.

When you’d called him to congratulate him on passing the first round, he’d thanked you and wrapped the call up as quickly as he could. Seeing the 3:24:41 call duration on your phone afterward had felt wrong. It was one of the shortest calls the two of you had ever had.

You’d brushed it off, chalked it up to him being tired or busy. Then they’d won the second round, and the process repeated itself. A quick phone call, a few scant minutes. It had sounded like other people were there that time, so you’d convinced yourself that he would call you back when he was alone. He never did.

You got to watch Game 4 of the third series, got to watch them sweep Carolina to win the Eastern Conference. Your friend Terri had laughed and clapped as you cheered, jumping up and down like a child. She was a Carolina fan herself, but was good enough of a loser to hug and congratulate you despite it. She’d offered to leave so that you could talk to Matthew, but you’d waved it off. You knew he’d be celebrating with the boys that night, so there was no real reason to try calling. You’d shot him a congratulations text and spent the night smiling so much your cheeks hurt.

When you’d tried to call Matthew the next day, his voice had been hushed when he answered. You’d given him your congratulations, bubbling over about how well they’d played. It’s not the first time you’d had a phone call exactly like that, him letting you gush about his team’s play and basking in the attention. This time, he interrupted you before you even got a chance to really get going. His voice was still quiet, almost a whisper as he said he had to go. The wind was immediately taken out of your sails and you’d barely had time to say goodbye before he hung up.

At that point, you’d given up convincing yourself that everything was okay. Something was very clearly wrong, and you’d spent the next nine days trying to figure out what it was. You’d reached out to Brady, and he’d told you that he hadn’t noticed anything weird from Matthew at all. Knowing that, you’d tried to downplay what was going on between the two of you, lest Brady go bother Matthew about it. You don’t do well with embarrassment, so you’d preferred that whatever was going on stayed away from any third parties.

The finals started, ending rather anticlimactically ten days later in a 4-1 loss for the Panthers. Knowing Matthew, he was going to go straight back to his hotel room and beat himself up. For the last three, almost four, years, you’d called Matthew after every big win or loss, and this was his biggest loss to date. Yet your finger hesitated at his contact name, hovered over the picture of him with bedhead and a lazy smile. With how things had been going, you knew he probably wouldn’t want to talk to you, even if you hadn’t figured out why yet. But part of you hoped that he would, that everything to that point had been stress, and there, at his lowest, he would talk to you again, and everything would go back to normal.

That, of course, is not what happened.

He hadn’t answered at all. And when you’d tried a second time an hour later, it rang once before going to voicemail. That meant that he’d declined your call, but you didn’t know what that meant.

Two more days passed without you hearing anything from him, so you’d called Brady. All of this had been concerning, but that had been too much. Miraculously, you’d managed to stay calm when you spoke with Brady, sounding impressively level-headed when you relayed what happened and asked him if he’d heard from Matthew. Brady had seemed shocked at the situation, immediately calling Matthew after he’d hung up with you.

Thirty minutes later, when you’d received a text from Brady, your heart had sunk to the pit of your stomach, and it’s stayed there ever since.

Because what the text had informed you of is that Matthew hadn’t lost or broken his phone, hadn’t been sick or depressed or, god, lost in the fucking desert or some shit. It told you that he’d been with his girlfriend, and hadn’t wanted her to see him call or text another girl. Because, apparently, Matthew has a girlfriend now. And just hadn’t deigned to tell you.

When Brady had told you that she would be spending the offseason in St. Louis with Matthew, you’d tried to hide your shock. You’d cleared your throat and told Brady how great that was, even as you wanted to throw up. They’d gotten into town a few days ago, and you’d done your best to keep your distance. But Brady asked you to come to dinner at his parents’ house tonight, citing the limited time you have to see him before he goes back to Ottawa, and you couldn’t refuse.

So now here you are, curled up in a chair in the Tkachuks’ den, across from said girlfriend. Her name is Tessa, she’s 26, and she does remote work for a marketing firm. That explains how she’s able to pick up and go to St. Louis for three months, at least. She’s already recounted the story of how they’d met, a romcom story of spilling his drink on her dress at a party and getting to know each other from there. She talks about the instant connection, the way they clicked so quickly that she knew they were meant for each other. That part of the story was when you’d excused yourself to get a glass of water, just so you could stick your head in the fridge and take a few deep breaths.

Matthew and Tessa are on one of the couches, the older, comfier one. Matthew is propped up against one of the armrests, Tessa curled into his side, his arm around her shoulders. You’ve spent the night pretending not to notice the way Matthew keeps glancing at you.

Brady and Emma are posted up on the other couch, one on either side, Emma’s feet in Brady’s lap as she lounges. Emma is great, and does a great job at keeping the conversation going, despite how little you and the boys are participating. Tessa either doesn’t notice your silence or doesn’t mind, chatting happily about some film she and Emma have both recently seen. You’re pretending not to notice the looks Brady’s giving you, either.

You should really be trying harder. You know Brady wasn’t expecting you to curl up under a blanket and mope when he invited you, and he really is right about time being limited. You should be engaging, enjoying the time you get with the boys while you have it. You would, if you could open your mouth without feeling like you’re going to scream.

Eventually, Chantal calls you all to dinner. It’s easier once you’re all gathered around the table, somehow, and you’re able to talk a little. Chantal has always put you at ease, has always made you feel like just another of her children. If you had it your way, Taryn would be here too. She has a way of lovingly bullying you that always makes you feel better. Unfortunately, she’s visiting some college friends out of state. But you��re doing okay, you think, at acting normal.

Then you lock eyes with Keith, and any sense of ease you’ve gained flies out the window. You wouldn’t be inclined to say that Keith is the most observant person in the world, so the way he’s looking at you– like he knows something is very, very wrong– makes it clear that you’re doing an absolutely dogshit job at hiding your feelings. You look away from him quickly, swallowing hard and forcing yourself to talk even more. 

Maybe if you can just act normal, if you can push down the emotions and act like everything is okay, it will be. There’s nothing else you can really do about the situation anyway. Matthew has made it clear that he’s not interested in talking about it, so you’ll have to suck it up and deal with it on your own.

Dinner goes by a little quicker once you’re actually actively involved in the conversation. Typically, you help Chantal with the dishes after meals, but when you reach for the sponge at the sink, she shoos you away. She sends the girls back to the den, insisting that it’s the boys’ turn to help.

You curl back up in your chair, mind wandering as you operate on autopilot. You’re saying things, contributing to the conversation with Emma and Tessa, but you have no idea what you’re actually saying. Mercifully, they either don’t notice or don’t care.

This entire situation is fucked. What’s really getting to you, though, is how you’d been introduced. You’d walked in, giving out hugs to everyone except Matthew and Tessa. She’d approached you, shaking your hand enthusiastically.

“Matthew said you’re Brady’s best friend, right?” she’d asked. It was simple, innocuous, and true. Brady and you have been best friends for years, and that would be an adequate title in any other scenario. But it felt like a punch to the gut, knowing that after everything, Matthew had told her that you were just his little brother’s best friend. You’d glanced at him as she said it, and the intentionally cool, unaffected expression Matthew had in place still couldn’t hide the guilt in his eyes.

In that moment, you knew that he hadn’t told her anything about you, about whatever the two of you have been to each other for the past few years, and that he never intends to. There was a second where he’d made a decision, a second that you weren’t present for, that had cut off everything you’ve been to him and relegated you back to Brady’s Best Friend.

You want to pull Tessa aside, spill out everything. You want her to know that you’re Matthew’s friend too, that you’ve been more than that. More than that, you want Matthew to do it. You want him to tell her, to acknowledge whatever the hell you’ve been doing for all this time. You want him to admit that you’re something, anything to him.

Instead, you keep it all to yourself. The knowledge of everything between you and Matthew will live and die where it is now, in the minds of the two of you, and nowhere else.

June, 2018

You’re wiping down the counters when the man enters. You force a bright smile at him, still annoyed from the previous customer but doing your best not to show it. He returns the smile, approaching the register. You move to settle across from him, greeting him politely. The shop has a lot of regulars, but you don’t recognize this guy.

“I’ll be honest,” he says, giving a single nervous laugh, “I’m not really a coffee guy. Do you have any recommendations?” It’s not an uncommon question, and there aren’t any other customers right now, so you don’t mind.

“Do you like the taste of coffee?” you ask. He shakes his head. That eliminates about half of the menu, so it’s progress.

“How much caffeine are you going for?” you ask next.

“As much as possible,” he replies. The dark circles under his eyes could have hinted you to that conclusion. He has a laptop and notebook in one hand, down by his side. It’s normal for people to bring work along with them, and he’s definitely young, so you guess it’s probably school work.

“You could always do a triple shot latte with a flavor,” you suggest, your own go-to drink, “The caramel is the strongest. I can put in an extra pump if you want.” Technically, you should charge extra for that, but the kid looks kind of pathetic, and you feel bad. He can have a pity pump this once.

“That sounds good,” he agrees. You do the math in your head and punch in the price manually on the vintage register. The whole cafe is supposed to have a vintage vibe, a real hipster magnet. Math was always your weakest subject, but having to calculate totals in your head has made you a lot better with it.

Once he pays on the very not-vintage card reader, you direct him to the far side of the bar. You start on his drink, pulling shots with practiced ease. You’ve been working  here since high school, so you’ve gotten pretty good at making coffee. He doesn’t try to talk to you while you work, which is nice. There’s something oddly calming about his presence, though, and it’s helping your annoyance fade.

You hand off his drink, and he retreats to a booth in the back corner after thanking you. You go back to wiping things down, bobbing your head along with the music playing quietly over the speakers. It’s later in the evening, so you only get a few customers over the next hour. It’s one thing you like about working the night shift. Not many customers, and most of the people getting coffee around this time are tired enough to not give you much trouble, and are usually extremely grateful for the caffeine.

It’s quiet for long enough that you pull your stool up to the counter, pulling your textbook and notes out from under the counter. You start working on the homework for your summer semester, singing quietly to yourself as you read.

“You have a nice voice,” the guy from earlier says, suddenly standing in front of you. You jump, hand flying to your chest as if you’re a damsel in a period piece. You’d forgotten he was here.

“Thank you,” you say, once the surprise fades. You laugh a little, shaking your head. He laughs too, apologizing for startling you.

“Could I have another?” he asks, holding up his now-empty cup.

“Of course,” you reply, “Same cup okay?” You do your best to be environmentally friendly, so you don’t want to use another cup if you don’t have to. He says that’s okay, so you take the cup and start pulling another shot.

“Y/N,” he says absently as he leans on the counter, “That’s a pretty name.” You thank him again, dumping the first shot into the cup. It’s odd, because people are usually flirting when they say something like that, but his tone isn’t suggestive at all.

“What’s your name?” you ask, feeling like you should say something. You start pulling the second shot.

“Brady,” he says, extending a hand toward you. You look between his hand and your own, feeling rude but needing both hands to pull the shot.

“Oh, um,” you stutter, “Sorry, I’m–” He seems to realize what’s going on and retracts his hand, using it to rub at the base of his skull.

“My bad,” he says, shaking his head at himself, “I’m tired, sorry.” You smile at him, much more genuine than the first time.

“What’s got you so tired anyway, Brady?” you ask, dumping the second shot and starting on the third. His face twists at what you’d thought was an innocuous question. He’s clearly debating something in his head, so you stay silent.

“I’ve got something big coming up in a couple weeks,” he explains, tapping his fingers against the counter, “I’m just trying to be prepared.” You nod, not minding how vague he’s being. You don’t actually need to know every detail of a random customer’s life. There’s a moment of quiet as you dump in the third shot and pour some milk into a metal container.

“And I might be a little nervous,” he says, looking at his hands instead of you. You smile again, beginning to steam the milk.

“Just a little,” you repeat, slightly teasing in a way you usually aren’t with customers.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, looking up at you, “Just a little.” You smile at each other for a second, both knowing he’s seriously downplaying his feelings. You wonder what it is that has him so anxious, sure that it must be something serious. He doesn’t seem to be the neurotic type.

“What are you working on?” he asks as you pour the milk, gesturing toward your books spread out next to the register. You shrug.

“Organic chemistry,” you reply, pumping in the flavoring, “The worst class ever.” He cringes at the mention of it, which you feel in your bones.

“I’ve heard it’s awful,” he says.

“It is,” you confirm. You snap the lid back onto the cup, sliding it over the counter to him. He cradles it between his hands, but doesn’t move to leave. He’s looking up at you from where he’s hunched over, and you can’t help but stare back.

“Do you want to come sit with me?” he asks, “We could be miserable together.” The smile that overtakes your face mirrors itself on his own.

August, 2018

When Brady walks in, right at his usual time, you give him a smile and lean over the counter to hug him. You’ve become fast friends, sitting together a few nights a week, probably talking more than studying. His Big Thing is long past, and he still hasn’t told you what it was, but you don’t really mind. You get to know about his family and his girlfriend and his upcoming move to Ottawa, of all places, but you don’t need to know everything if he doesn’t want to share.

You make two of the usual latte, one for each of you. You grab your books from the shelf, meeting him at the corner booth. You get through some small talk as you both set up, going back and forth with an ease that you were surprised to find has been there since the beginning.

“Matthew’s going to come hang out tonight,” he says as he logs into his computer. He’s spoken about his brother before, so you’re somewhat intrigued.

“Any particular reason?” you ask. To your knowledge, Matthew has never been to the shop, so you’re not sure if something special is going on to spur him into coming.

“He thinks it sounds cool,” Brady shrugs, flipping his notebook open. Maybe you’d know what he’s always working on if you could read his tiny chicken scratch. As it is, you don’t mind letting him have his secrets.

You get four pages into your chapter before another customer enters, laying your pen in the divot between the pages while you go make them their drink. Luckily, they don’t stick around. It’s not awful when other people are around, but you always feel like someone is going to complain about you sitting in the dining room and studying while you should be working. But if there’s no work to be done, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. Unfortunately, not everyone agrees. So you prefer if it’s just you and Brady.

Another four pages drag by, reading interspersed with breaks to talk. Honestly, the breaks are also a way to keep yourself sane as you read unnecessarily complicated science.

When the next customer enters, you spring up from your chair, shooting them a smile as you make your way behind the counter. You give your standard greeting, asking what you can get them.

“What do you recommend?” the man asks. You were kind of hoping he’d have something in mind so that this interaction could go quickly, because he may be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen and it’s making you flustered.

“Do you like the taste of coffee?” you ask. He nods, looking you up and down with a critical eye. It feels personal, feels like he’s searching for something, and you’re not sure if you like it.

“How much caffeine are you looking for?” you ask next. You do your best to maintain eye contact, ignoring the way you have to look up to do so.

“How much you got?” he asks in return. The crooked smile he gives you makes your stomach flip. You grasp for a drink to suggest, all knowledge having fled your mind in order to focus on the curl of his hair over his forehead, the glint of his bright eyes.

“A Lazy Eye would probably be the most,” you say, clearing your throat, “But if you don’t want to have a heart attack, you could do a regular Red Eye.” He tilts his head, smile turning smug, as if he’s noticed your distraction. Something about it snaps you out of your daze, slightly indignant. You’ve seen plenty of hot guys in your day, and you’re not about to look like a fool in front of him just because he’s pretty.

“Red Eye, Black Eye, Dripped Eye, Lazy Eye,” you list off with as much confidence as you can muster, “Each with one more shot than the last. Pick your poison.” Your attitude change only makes him smile wider. Your hand is poised over the buttons of the register, ready to ring up whatever he decides.

“Let’s go with a Black Eye,” he says, bearing a surprisingly sharp canine, “I’ve had a few of those in my time.” That doesn’t surprise you, with his smug face and oozing self-confidence. Something about it feels so disingenuous that it makes your teeth itch. It’s clearly an act, but you can’t exactly call him on it.

You give him his total, he pays, you get to work. You empty the last dregs of coffee in the pot into the sink and set the machine to brew a new batch. No matter how annoying a customer seems, you’re not about to serve them shitty coffee.

“Y/N,” he says, leaning on the counter, “That’s a pretty name.” It’s exactly what Brady had said when you’d met him, which makes you eye the man a little suspiciously. Whereas Brady had clearly not been flirting when he’d said it, this man’s tone is ambiguous enough that you’re not entirely sure what his intentions are.

“Thank you,” you say, dumping the first shot of espresso into the cup. Normally, you would ask for his name in return, but you’re not sure if you want to encourage him talking to you.

“How long have you worked here?” he asks anyway.

“Almost three years,” you reply. You’re not sure you want to tell him anything about your life, but you’re trying to be polite.

“Experienced,” he says, smiling like he’s a lion closing in on its prey, “I like that.” It’s cheesy and kind of sleazy, and you can’t help but scoff in disbelief. He’s watching you like a hawk, studying your reactions to everything he says and does. You dump the second shot, wishing the coffee would brew faster so this interaction could be over.

“I don’t think I want to know what else you like,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. You used to get embarrassed and rattled by customers making comments like this, but at some point something had changed inside you. Now you just get annoyed, no matter how hot the person may be.

“Feisty,” he says, smile changing slightly in a way you can’t parse, “I like that too.” You roll your eyes, making a quiet noise of disgust. It’s not great for business to react to customers this way, but you can’t help it.

“I like it when men are silent,” you reply, able to feel how withering your gaze is. His expression changes yet again, smile getting smaller but more genuine, scrunching the bottom of his eyes up a little. That feels more natural to you, looks more right on his face. Something about the new softness in his eyes soothes something inside of you.

The coffee machine beeps to signal that it’s ready, and you waste no time in grabbing the pot and filling the cup. You hand it off to him, giving your biggest, most obviously fake smile.

“Have a fantastic night,” you say, immediately rounding the counter and heading back to the booth. When you settle back into your seat, Brady is smiling at you like you’ve told the funniest joke in the world.

“What?” you ask, picking up your pen. Brady’s eyes flick up above your head, slightly to the left, staying there, prompting you to turn around. The man is standing behind you, small smile still in place.

“Brady’s told me so much about you,” he says, and it dawns on you, “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Matthew.” Your jaw falls open and you turn back to Brady, kicking him in the shin under the table. He yelps; Matthew laughs.

“You’re both the worst,” you spit, trying to hold onto your irritation and failing. You laugh alongside the brothers, begrudgingly amused by the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Sorry about that back there,” Matthew apologizes, seemingly genuine, “I couldn’t help myself.” You shake your head at him as he bullies Brady further into the booth so he can sit. Brady shoves him back, but moves his things over anyway.

“It’s okay,” you say, pointing at him, “But if you ever pull that shit again, I’m banning you from the shop.” That startles a laugh out of him.

“I didn’t know you had the power to do that,” he replies, using his crossed arms to lean on the table.

“I do now,” you say, tilting your chin up, “Gonna put a picture up of you with a big X on it and everything.” You stare at each other for a second, and he breaks first, ducking his head as he laughs.

“Fair enough,” he concedes, looking up at you through his lashes. Your heart skips a beat, but you do your best to seem unaffected. This is your friend’s brother, for Christ’s sake. You can’t be all aflutter over him. You’re not sure you have a choice in the matter.

June, 2023

You might actually kill your coworker one day. He’s such a smug rat bastard, and every meeting including both of you makes you think you’re going to grind your teeth into dust. It’s just lucky that the job is remote, so you don’t have to be around him physically. Probably best for both your sanity and his safety.

“I mean, at least you were right in the end?” Terri says, sounding uncertain through your headphones. You’re sauteeing some onions and peppers, moving them around more than you should be just for something to do with your hands.

“Yeah, I guess,” you sigh, “I just don’t understand why he wants to make me look bad.” Ian– the coworker– seems to always have some kind of comment on your work, some type of criticism. Constructive criticism is part of the game, but his is never constructive. It doesn’t help that you’re the only two in the graphics department, so he’s always there when you present work. And really, being the only two should mean that you work together and support each other, honestly.

“Because he’s an insecure man-child,” Terri replies easily. You shake your head down at the vegetables, startling as the oven timer goes off. You jab at the button to turn it off, opening the door to remove the chicken.

“I think I’ve had enough of insecure man-children,” you grumble. You cut open one of the chicken breasts with more force than is strictly necessary, grateful that it seems to be done.

“You finally wanna talk about that?” Terri asks, and honestly? No, you don’t. Ideally, you’ll never talk about it, just push it down into the darkest recesses of your mind and bury it there. Unfortunately, you possess some level of emotional maturity, which means you know that you have to talk about it eventually.

It’s hard, because despite Brady being your best friend, you can’t exactly talk to him about this. If he knew any part of what’s been going on, he’d probably go physically fight Matthew on your behalf. Part of you thinks that might actually make you feel a little better. But he’d also probably be mad that you’ve had a not-thing with his brother, and that would make you feel worse.

“She seems like a nice woman,” you say, trying to keep your tone neutral. Terri sighs, and you take your plate of food to the living room to eat.

“She’s not the problem, here,” she says. She’s right, and you know it. You really don’t have anything against Tessa, and obviously you can’t blame her for any of this. Clearly, she had no idea about your not-thing with Matthew, and genuinely fell for him. There’s no point in being mad at her.

“Yeah, well,” you push some food around your plate, “He’s a fuckface and she can have him.” The mention of Matthew has ruined your appetite, the meal now looking completely unappealing. You push the plate to the other side of the coffee table with a huff. You’ll try eating again later, you tell yourself, knowing that you haven’t been eating nearly enough lately. You can’t help it, your inner turmoil chasing away your hunger most of the time.

“He is a fuckface,” Terri agrees, adding, “But don’t pretend you don’t still want him.” Ugh. Friends are the worst, actually, and you should just become a hermit in a cave somewhere. There’s no point even trying to deny the claim, both of you knowing that she’s right.

“I’m not allowed to want him anymore,” you say, voice coming out weaker than you want to admit, “I never should have let myself want him in the first place.” In the beginning, despite being attracted to Matthew, it was easy to maintain distance. He was in Calgary most of the year, and reminding yourself that he was your new friend’s brother actually worked as a deterrent back then.

You can’t pinpoint exactly when you started letting yourself get caught up, but you’d ended up completely entangled with him. Now he’s put that distance back between you, ripping away the strings you’d been tied up in, leaving you with all these empty spaces where he used to be. And it’s making you hate yourself, knowing that if you’d just kept things cordial, restricted your attention and connection to Brady like you should have, you wouldn’t be feeling any of this right now.

“You can’t help who you love,” Terri says, so gently that it only hurts more. You’re not fragile, okay? You don’t need the softness, the careful handling. You’re not fragile. You’re not.

“I gotta go eat,” you say, not wanting to lie, but needing a way out of the conversation, “Bye, Ter.” She says your name, but you just repeat the goodbye. She sighs, says goodbye, and you hang up. What you should do is eat something and go to sleep. Instead, you eye the easel in the corner of the living room. You sigh, heaving yourself up off of the couch to go grab a glass of water to rinse your brushes with.

April, 2019

It’s probably going to become your new favorite day of the year: the day Brady comes home from Ottawa. His plane had landed yesterday, and his parents had even brought you to the airport with them to pick him up. As quickly as you’d bonded last summer, you’d only gotten closer through the season. It feels like you can talk to each other about anything, like you were meant to meet, like he’s the platonic version of a soulmate. You had patiently waited your turn to hug him after his parents, squeezing him as tightly as you could manage. He’d only squeezed back harder.

With their seasons ending right around the same time this year, Matthew had landed the same night. Knowing they’d have to go back to the airport, the Tkachuks had decided to just spend the day out instead of going home. They’d invited you to come with them, an invitation you’d eagerly accepted. They’re quickly starting to feel like family to you, and you love spending time with them. For the first time in your life, it feels like you fit somewhere.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t been able to come along to pick up Matthew. You’d had to work last night, so the Tkachuks had dropped you off at home to get changed and get going. You’d still gotten to spend most of the day with them, which would have to be enough.

You’re going over to their place today, and you decided to bake and bring along cookies. All of their local family and friends are going to be there to welcome the boys home, and you haven’t met most of them yet, so you want to make a good first impression. Besides, it’s just polite to bring something along to someone’s house.

Though Brady still tries to hug you when you arrive, despite your hands being full, the plates need to be deposited on the dining room table before he can get a real one. There are a few people chatting in the room, so Brady introduces you to them.

Most of the next hour goes much the same, Brady introducing you to family and friends, having small conversations with all of them. You know that Brady isn’t trying to embarrass you, but he has a habit of hyping you up to people. He’s more outgoing than you are, and he uses that social ease to brag about how smart you are, how talented. It feels a little like he’s trying to justify being your friend to them, but you know better than to think that Brady cares what anyone thinks of him and his choices.

The kitchen exits onto a large cherry wood deck, scattered with chairs, some of them already occupied. The back yard is sprawling, green grass lined with lush bushes. There’s a pool to the right, not opened for the summer yet, a jacuzzi positioned between it and the house. You’re still not really used to all of this, the casual wealth of the family. It’s so far from what you’d grown up with, something that had astonished you when you’d realized just how far above you the Tkachuks are.

There are a few yard games set up in the grass, cornhole and ladders and something you don’t recognize. And there, in the center of the yard, Matthew is teaching a child how to play ladders. The kid is probably a cousin, of which they have many. Matthew is barefoot, wearing a bright red Flames hoodie and black shorts that only come to mid-thigh. You’ve narrowed your staring down to a minimum, so your eyes only linger for a second or two before you turn back to Brady.

He guides you around to meet the few people braving the chilly spring weather, much as he had done inside. Everyone is so nice, saying how pleased they are to meet you, and seeming to mean it.

Your last stop is Matthew, who interrupts his lesson to hug you. It’s only the second time the two of you have done so, the first having been the last time you saw him before he left for the season. Despite that fact, he squeezes you almost as hard as Brady had, as if you’re his best friend too. Not that you’d presume to be Brady’s best friend, but. Still.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” he says when you pull apart, and the expression on his face tells you how genuine it is. Your smile is almost involuntary, turning up the corners of your mouth and baring just a hint of teeth.

“Welcome home, Matthew,” you reply, “We missed you.” You’re not sure what “we” you’re referring to, but it feels less incriminating than saying “I missed you”. You get the feeling that he understands anyway, beaming at you.

The three of you chat for a few minutes, Matthew introducing you to his little cousin. With there being four of you, you decide to play a game of ladders, to test the little one’s skills. He’s pretty good, for a kid, and you and Brady make sure to throw well enough to convince him that you’re trying, but still let him win. Throughout, Matthew gives him tips and instruction, so kind and gentle that it makes your heart ache. They cheer when they win, high fiving and teasing you and Brady.

You go inside to spend some time with Keith and Chantal. Chantal gives you a big hug, as if she hadn’t just seen you yesterday. Keith gives you a hearty clap on the shoulder. Taryn appears at some point, sneaking up behind you and poking your sides to make you jump. You laugh along with her, enfolding her into the conversation easily.

Time flies by, the sun setting around you, the house lights turning on one by one as darkness descends. Eventually, you end up lounging in the den with the other adult kids. From your visits last year, the chair in the corner has become yours. You’re settled in, legs folded up under you as something that no one is watching plays on the TV. Brady and Taryn get into a heated debate about something or another, and Matthew gives you a long-suffering look as his younger siblings bicker. You just smile back at him, finding the family’s passion entirely endearing.

“Seventeen years of this,” Matthew gripes, clearly not as annoyed as he’s trying to seem.

“And sixty more to go,” you reply. Matthew chuckles at that, looking to Brady and Taryn with such fondness that you almost can’t stand it. It’s the kind of relationship you’d wanted with your own brothers, but that’s best not to think about.

“Hopefully,” Matthew says, turning that fond look toward you. Your heart skips a beat, and you’ve gotten good at ignoring that.

May, 2019

You shouldn’t be this nervous, but you are. Terri is on speaker phone, telling you about her new job. You’re half-listening, staring at the clothing laid out on your bed. You’ve been agonizing all morning about what you’re going to wear, how you’re going to do your makeup, if you should wear makeup at all.

“I’m glad that your boss defended you,” you say to Terri, still tuned in enough to follow her story, “She seems cool.”

“She’s so cool,” Terri gushes, “She’s my favorite now.” You’re so happy that Terri has finally found a good job, especially with how hellish her previous one had been. This one pays almost double what she was getting before, too, which definitely doesn’t hurt. She expounds a little more about the things she loves about her boss, and you decide to hang back up the dresses you’ve laid out. It’s still a little too chilly to wear them, especially after sundown.

“You���re still staring at those damn clothes, aren’t you?” Terri asks, switching the topic suddenly. Your face gets warm as you make a plaintive hand gesture, despite her not being able to see you.

“Clothes are stupid and I can’t decide,” you complain, trying to imagine how each of the final two options will come across. If you try too hard, Matthew might think that you think this is a date, but you still want to look good. You know it’s not a date, but you’re still kind of acting like it is, and it’s embarrassing.

“Definitely wear jeans,” Terri advises, “That’ll make it more casual.” You agree, putting away the skirt you’d paired with the one shirt, trying to picture how it would look with jeans. You move the pants between each shirt, before giving up and just putting them on. You’ll just try on both outfits and see which one you like better.

Once dressed in the first option, you take a picture to send to Terri. You look at yourself in the mirror, turning this way and that. After a minute or two of consideration, you switch tops. You take another picture and send both to Terri for her opinion.

“Oh, definitely the second one,” she says, “The first one makes you look like you’re going to a job interview.” You look at the picture again, and can’t deny that she’s right. You put that one away, settled in your decision. You’re not sure if Matthew has ever seen you in anything but jeans and a t-shirt, so you hope the red tank top layered with a tucked-in sheer pink printed blouse isn’t too much of a change.

When Matthew had invited you to take a walk around the park yesterday, just the two of you. You’ve never spent more than a few minutes alone with him, always having Brady or Taryn or Emma to provide distraction and distance. This time you’ll have nothing to focus on but him.

The time comes soon enough, and you gather your things, not wanting to make Matthew wait for you when he arrives. You’d offered to drive yourself and meet him there, but he’d waved off the idea immediately, saying that he’d pick you up.

A knock comes at your door right on time. You take a deep breath before you open it, settling your frenzied heart. Matthew smiles as soon as he sees you.

“Oh wow,” he says, almost absentmindedly, “You look great.” Your blush is immediate, and you hope he can’t see it. It seems that anything that comes out of his mouth makes you blush, sometimes.

The drive to the park isn’t too long. When you arrive, you gather your bag from the floor of the passenger seat, and by time you move to get a hand on the door handle, Matthew is already opening the door from the outside. It’s a sweet surprise, and you thank him as you climb out of the car.

It’s a nice day, not too cold or windy for once. The two of you walk, talking about this and that, moving from topic to topic as they arise. You point out a few birds as you go, and Matthew listens to the little fun facts you give about them. He seems genuinely interested, but even if he’s not, at least he’s polite enough to pretend.

“I guess we should have left a little earlier,” Matthew remarks as the sun goes down, the light fading around you. The sun sets quickly this time of year, so you’re still a few minutes out from the car by time it’s completely dark. The lights along the pathway bathe Matthew in yellow light, casting warm shadows in the dips and hollows of his face.

“At least I have a big, strong man to protect me,” you joke, elbowing him.

“Oh no, if we get jumped I’m running,” he replies, shooting a shit-eating grin down at you. You gasp and press a hand to your heart, as if you’re truly scandalized.

“You would really abandon me like that?” you ask. His smile softens at the edges.

“Never,” he says, looking so genuine that it makes your heart flutter, pausing before he adds, “Unless we’re getting robbed.” Your combined laughter rings out through the trees.

June, 2023

You’ve managed to avoid any questions about your odd behavior, and it’s getting easier to act normal over time. A couple weeks have passed since your first meeting with Tessa, and you still feel like ripping your skin off when you see her touching Matthew, but you’ve gotten better at hiding it. It’s not your place to be upset, anyway.

The diner is bustling at this time of day, the tail end of lunch rush. You had to wait a little bit to get seated, but now you’re sitting at the end of a booth in a chair they’d pulled up to the edge to make up for all five of you not fitting into the booth. It makes you feel a little left out, the only one not paired off, a fifth wheel to the two couples on either side of the table. You block that out, a skill you’ve had for years, but have had to strengthen rapidly over the past few weeks.

Brady has an arm around Emma’s shoulders, and you can tell by the angle of Matthew’s arm that he has a hand on Tessa’s thigh. You remember when that was you, Matthew touching you so casually, so naturally. Sitting across from Matthew as he nudges your foot under the table, sitting next to him with your shoulders pressed together, fingers tangled together on the seat, where no one could see.

Emma is telling a story about a night out with some of her girlfriends, and you’re laughing along at the antics with everyone else. When she asks you about work, you try to clear the perpetual lump in your throat before answering, succeeding in sounding happy, though the tightness remains.

When your food arrives, you spend most of the time pushing it around your plate to make it look like you’re eating. You never have an appetite around Matthew anymore, weirdly embarrassed about being seen eating in a way you haven’t been since you were a teenager. You’ll take it home and eat it later, if you can stop thinking about Matthew for two fucking seconds.

You’re not sure how long that’s going to be impossible, but you hope it’s not much longer.

January, 2020

You’ve been to a few games when the boys have played the Blues, but you’ve never made the trip up to Canada to see them play each other before. Ottawa is nice, Brady and Emma having shown you around a little when you’d arrived. Your nerves had been shot from the anxiety of traveling abroad for the first time, even though it was just to Canada. The couple seemed to understand, only taking you around for a few hours before bringing you home.

Brady’s apartment is nice, really nice. He’s offered you the guest room for a few days, and you appreciate not having to pay for a hotel. He’ll be home for six days before he has to go to St. Louis for the All Star game, so you’d arranged to stay in Ottawa and fly back home with them.

Luckily, the cafe is pretty cool about rearranging your schedule, so you’ll just have to work some extra days when you go back to make up for what you’re missing. You’d asked for the days of the skills competition and game off as well, Brady having managed to get you a ticket. Your manager has always thought it was cool that you were friends with the Tkachuks, so she had agreed to give you the time off if you brought her a souvenir. Matthew and Brady had offered to sign a jersey for her without you even having to ask, and you’ll owe them for a while, though they insist you don’t.

Matthew gets in that first night, the three of you meeting him at his hotel. You’re not sure how he managed it, but he’ll be staying a few days instead of returning to Calgary with the team after the game. Maybe he got a special exception because this game is the last before All Star week, and he has to go to St. Louis anyway. No matter the reason, you’re glad he gets to stay.

The game the next night is exciting, and definitely worth the trip. With the Senators’ performance in recent years, it’s mostly the diehard fans left, so the atmosphere is electric. You get swept up in the passion and joy, especially when the game ends with a 5-2 win for Ottawa.

The boys have to debrief and get changed, which you know will take a while. Emma and you wait with the WAGs, Emma excited to introduce you to them. Some of them think you’re a new WAG at first, which is honestly kind of flattering. All of the ladies are surprisingly kind and welcoming, and you enjoy interacting with them as you all wait.

Matthew emerges first, guided down the hallway by one of the arena staff. His steps pick up pace when he sees you and Emma, and he shoots a quick thanks to the staff member before jogging over to the two of you. He immediately enfolds you in his arms, squeezing tight and holding longer than usual. You know it’s difficult for him to lose at all, let alone to his brother, so you let him hold you as long as he wants.

Once he lets you go, he meets your eyes. His smile is soft, tinged with a slight sadness that you want to wipe away.

“Hey there, sweet girl,” he greets, and your breath catches at the term of endearment. He’d started using it a few months ago, and it still makes your chest tight. You know that it doesn’t mean anything, but you still imagine sometimes that it does.

He turns his attention to Emma, giving her a hug as well, just one quick squeeze before releasing. The three of you start talking, waiting patiently for Brady. It doesn’t shock you that he takes so long to come out, knowing his unofficial position of leadership in the team. The guys come out one by one, hugging and kissing their wives and girlfriends, the number of ladies dwindling as they leave with their men.

When Brady finally emerges, he heads straight over to give Emma a hug and kiss. He hugs you next, before punching Matthew’s shoulder. They have a little back-and-forth as you all exit the arena, taking harmless jabs at each other all the way to the car.

The main issue with the living arrangements for the trip had been that Brady and Emma were going to have two guests and only one spare room. Matthew had offered to sleep on the couch, but he’s too tall for that, and you don’t want him to end up sore or hurting his neck during the season. You’d insisted that you’d sleep on the couch, but both Matthew and Brady had immediately vetoed that idea. Then you’d found out that the guest room has two twin beds instead of one bigger one, and the answer was simple.

Matthew sets his suitcase and backpack next to the door when you get home. You’ve already claimed the bed on the far side, so he gets set up on the one closer to the door. Emma and Brady are in the kitchen, making a post-game snack for everyone, so it’s just you and Matthew.

“You excited to be roomies for a week?” he asks, unzipping his suitcase. Yours is already open under the window, so you grab some pajamas out of it.

“Depends how loud you snore,” you tease. He shoots you a toothy smile.

“Oh, it’s gonna be loud,” he says. You chuckle a bit, knowing he’s joking. Emma calls for you, then, and you leave your clothes on the bed to go to her. The four of you converse as you eat, seated in a row at the kitchen island. You’ve got Matthew to one side and Brady to the other, and they take turns kicking your ankles. You kick back, grinning at Emma when she kicks Brady’s other side.

Brady and Matthew had already showered at the rink, so they sit in the living room while you and Emma get ready for bed. She uses the master suite, and you use the bathroom in the hall. It’s nice, if small, with a simple stall shower instead of a tub. You go through your routine on autopilot, only realizing when you’re done that you’d left your clothes in the bedroom. You wrap yourself in a towel, doing your best to sneak past the door to the living room.

When you look to make sure your stealth is working, you meet Matthew’s eyes. It stops you in your tracks. You can’t discern the look on his face, and you’re not sure that you care to. He shoots you an easy smile, and you wave at him like an idiot, acting on instinct. It only makes him smile wider, and you scurry off to the room.

After you’re dressed, there’s a knock on the door. Brady asks if you’re decent, and you confirm that you are, so he peeks his head in. Once he sees that you truly are dressed, he opens the door the rest of the way. He and Emma bid you good night, telling you to just ask if you need anything. You thank them and say good night in return, Matthew entering the room as soon as the other two retreat to their own room. He’s barely two steps into the room before he’s pulling off his shirt.

“Woah there, cowboy,” you say, holding up a hand in front of you. He just shrugs at you.

“Gotta get ready for bed,” he says, bending over and lifting his foot to remove his socks. You’d figured that he would wear a t-shirt and shorts to bed like you, but you should’ve guessed he’d be the type to sleep shirtless, no matter who’s around. He’s naked in front of thirty people every day, who cares about being shirtless?

You do your best to brush it off, turning down the covers of your bed so that you can crawl in. Normally, you would read for a bit before bed, but you’re tired enough tonight that you don’t think you need to. You pull the blankets up to your chin, turning on your side. Unfortunately, you sleep on your right, so you end up facing Matthew’s bed. Is that weird? Should you try sleeping the opposite direction?

Matthew doesn’t say anything, flicking the lights off and crawling into bed. He sleeps on his left, apparently, so he’s facing you too. That’s a little awkward, right? As your eyes adjust to the dark, you’re able to see the glint of his teeth as he smiles over at you.

“Sleep well, sweet girl,” he says quietly. You return the sentiment, grateful that the darkness means he probably can’t fully see the embarrassment on your face. You’re backlit by the window, so you convince yourself that he can’t.

The next morning, you wake to Matthew already out of bed, stretching. Your eyes roam his back, taking in the dips and ridges of his muscles. Only at the last second do you realize that his head is turned to the side, and he’s staring at you through the corner of his eye. You quickly avert your gaze, turning to sit bolt upright on the other side of the bed, facing the window.

The four of you spend the day exploring the city, Brady and Emma seeming to have planned what they want to show you. It’s nice, peaceful and fun. You make them take pictures with you in front of landmarks or cool art pieces, all of you squished together to fit in the selfie.

It isn’t until the fourth night that anything out of the ordinary happens. You’re lying in bed, having turned on your back to stare at the ceiling, unable to sleep. You probably shouldn’t have had that affogato after dinner, though usually they don’t bother you this much. No matter how long you toss and turn, how many sleeping positions you try, you can’t even make yourself tired, let alone actually fall asleep.

“What are you, a rotisserie chicken?” Matthew asks rhetorically, breaking the silence. His voice is hushed, but it still startles you. You turn your head to stare at him, finding him staring right back.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, sheepish, “I can’t sleep.” Matthew’s lips quirk up at one end.

“Me either,” he says, sitting up. You mimic his posture, then scoot back to lean against the headboard. He slings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, and you think for a second that he’s going to turn on the light. Instead, he takes the two steps to your bed, motioning to the mattress. You nod, prompting him to start shoving your shoulder, bullying you into making space for him. You giggle, trying to keep quiet to respect the late hour.

“So,” he leads, taking a long moment to just stare at you before continuing, “Tell me something I don’t know about you.” You’re taken off guard by the request, not sure how to respond.

“I was an Aaron Carter girl growing up,” you pull out of thin air. Matthew’s face breaks into a wide smile, sunshine in the middle of the night.

“Really?” he asks. You nod, mumbling “yeah” in confirmation. That’s all it takes to get you both talking. You trade off back and forth, telling each other small things about yourself that may not come up otherwise, launching into short discussions about some of the statements.

“My favorite color is red,” he says at one point, when you’re starting to think you may fall asleep.

“I thought it was blue?” you reply, remembering Chantal mention that at some point. Matthew starts fiddling with his hands.

“I tell people it’s blue, but it’s really red,” he says. You tilt your head an inch or two, furrowing your brow at him.

“Why?” you ask. He ducks his head.

“Red is an angry color,” he explains, voice quieter than before, “With my reputation, I don’t want people to associate me with an aggressive color. I don’t want to play into the stereotype.” You hum, looking forward. It feels like this isn’t the best time to look at him, like he’ll clam up if you witness his vulnerability.

“It’s also the color of vitality, excitement, love,” you counter, leaving just a breath of a pause, “It’s a good color for you.” The entire room is still for a dragging moment, before Matthew gently knocks your shoulders together.

“What about you?” he asks when you look back to him. There’s a fraction of a change in his face, but you don’t comment on it.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re still sitting up, head resting on Matthew’s shoulder, his head laying on top of yours. You suppress the instinct to startle, not wanting to disrupt him, lest he wake up and move. His skin is warm under your cheek, your arms lined up from shoulder to the knuckles of your fingers. You close your eyes again, trying to keep your breathing steady, as if you’re still sleeping. You’ve been trying so hard to keep distance between Matthew and yourself, but you’ll allow yourself to enjoy this, just for a moment longer.

There’s a shift in Matthew’s breathing, his fingers twitching against yours. It settles after a second, into a different pattern, intentionally deep and even. You’re sure that he’s awake, that he’s doing the same thing that you are. You’re not sure what to do with that information.

The rest of the trip goes by smoothly, Brady and Emma showing you both the touristy things and the better local spots around the city. If the same thing happens the next night, and the night after that, you and Matthew talking in low voices until you fall asleep against each other, neither of you mention it.

April, 2020

While the initial prediction for lockdown was that it would only last a month, it’s clear that it’s going to last much, much longer.

It’s probably lucky that you’d just started a new job, one that can be done remotely, rather than either working at the coffee shop or being laid off. It’s not exactly what you want to do, but it’s at least in the artistic field, so you try to be grateful anyway. It’s difficult being locked away in your apartment, but you’re grateful that you’re luckier than essential workers and people who are losing their jobs altogether.

The thing that keeps you sane in all of this is your phone. More specifically, it’s your friends. You’ve developed almost a schedule with it, calling Terri in the morning for an hour or so before work. At lunch, you facetime Brady and Emma for another hour, not envying them being stuck so far from home. It must be hard to be in an entirely different country than your family.

The highlight of each day is the evening, when you facetime Matthew. Though he spends most of the day sending you videos and memes and updates about whatever little thing he’s doing at the moment, it’s still nice to talk to him out loud. Seeing his face helps your growing loneliness a little bit.

You’re in your living room, your phone propped up against the arm of the couch as you show off the few things you’ve made since picking up crochet a couple weeks ago. Matthew compliments each of them, commending you for your improvement. He’s the only one you’ve shown, too embarrassed to let anyone else see the wonky scarves with uneven stitches.

“You have time to work on any paintings lately?” he asks, once you’re done your little show and tell. The truth is that you’ve got three new canvases drying in the kitchen. The truth is also that the man asking about them is the inspiration for their creation. There’s nothing incriminating about them; it’s not like they’re portraits of him or something. But you’re still hesitant to show him, because even if he doesn’t know, you do.

You show him anyway. The painting of the park is his favorite, and you wonder if he knows that it’s the one you went to for your first time alone together. It’s mostly dark, greens and blues so deep they look black, yellow triangles of light splitting the canvas into section. If you look closely enough, the brush strokes fill in the details of the trees, the grass, the pavement. Your phone camera isn’t good enough for Matthew to see that, but he compliments it anyway.

“You should paint me something for my apartment,” he says after you show him all three. You’re not opposed to the idea, actually enjoy the thought of something you made being showcased in his home.

“What do you want?” you ask, a hundred ideas already flitting through your mind. The only way you’ve seen his apartment is through the background of pictures he sends you sometimes, or little glimpses you catch as he walks around while you facetime. You’re not entirely sure of the vibe, but you’re sure you can figure something out.

“What makes you think of me?” he asks in return. You stop in your tracks in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. The hand holding your phone lowers a couple inches unintentionally, your gaze drifting above the screen, staring into the middle distance. What makes you think of him? Hockey, obviously. Family. Curling up under a blanket on a cold night. Laying on the couch with your feet up on the armrest, your head propped up on a pillow, a sad replacement for his lap. Spruce trees, gold, pitbulls, mushroom pizza, black eyes– both the drink and the wound.

Everything. Everything makes you think of him.

You can’t say that, obviously. You search your brain for something personal but innocuous, something sentimental but still acceptable. You think of all the time that you two have spent together over the past few years, memories springing up, some that you’d even forgotten about. Some that you’ll never be able to forget about.

“Can I surprise you?” you ask. You’re given that familiar smile in response, any iteration of which makes your heart stutter in your chest.

“Yeah,” he says, propping his face up with one hand on his jaw, “I trust you.”

July, 2023

Some people may say that Terri’s apartment is cluttered, but you just find it cozy. She has decorations and knick-knacks on every surface, but the comfiest couch you’ve ever sat on. That’s where you are now, stretched out with your back against the side, Terri mimicking your posture at the other end, your legs tangled together in the middle.

“We should see the Barbie movie when it comes out,” she says, unprompted. You look up from the hook and yarn in your hands, tipping your head to the side for a second and shrugging.

“It looks good,” you say, an indirect agreement. You haven’t been to the movies since before lockdown, so it might be nice to go back.

“D’you think Gabe would want to come?” she asks cautiously, “He could bring the kids.” The mention of your brother still makes ice crawl in your chest, but it’s not as bad as it once was. He’d reached out last year, trying to reconnect with you, and apparently your other brother too. You’ve only seen him a few times since, but it’s more than you’d seen him in the four years prior, combined.

“It’s worth a shot, right?” Terri asks, eyes flicking toward your phone sitting on the coffee table. You look toward it as well, debating for a second. It would be nice to see your nieces and nephews, but it also hurts that they barely know who you are.

“Yeah,” you agree after a second, “Worth a shot.” You grab your phone, feeling as if it’s going to explode in your hands if you move too quickly. There are a few notifications when you wake the screen, which you ignore to unlock it. You open your texts, backing out of your thread with Terri from earlier. You have a picture message from Brady, just a selfie of him and Emma smiling, which you send a heart in response to. Backing out of that thread, you see another new message, underneath the contact name you haven’t had the heart to change. The red and purple hearts next to his name– each of your favorite colors– having been there so long that getting rid of them feels wrong, no matter how it makes your chest hurt to see them.

Can we talk?

You tap the back button as quickly as you can. You can’t respond. You should, to be polite, but you can’t. If you do, you’ll say something you regret. It’ll probably be agreement or the words “eat shit”, and either option will get you into trouble. You can’t respond. You want so badly to talk to him. You want so desperately to go back in time and never meet him.

Your fingers tremble as you draft a text to your brother, typing and deleting and re-typing a few times before you settle on the wording. You have more important things to worry about than Matthew.

August, 2020

The bubble was an interesting idea. It may not be the best idea in the world, despite the safety precautions, but you know Matthew is just happy to be back on the ice. He’s already sent you a dozen pictures of the hotel, of him with his teammates and friends, masked up together in the lobby. You tell him to tell the boys that you say hello, and he texts you each of their responses.

The first round goes well, the Flames only losing one game to the Jets. You know Matthew had been worried about going through all the rules and protocols just to be eliminated immediately, so you’re glad that that isn’t the case.

The series against the Stars starts out with an exciting back-and-forth, the teams trading off wins. Then the Stars win game 5, breaking the pattern. You’re not expecting the last game to actually be the last, convinced that the Flames would at least make it to a game seven. But the Stars pull a decisive 7-3 win, the Flames falling apart in the second period and unable to get themselves back together.

Matthew has called you as soon as he got back to his hotel room after every game, so you’re expecting your phone to ring some time in the next hour or two. You putter around the apartment a little, putting away some dishes and wiping down the kitchen counters. You’d been painting during the game, a commission from a friend of a friend of a friend. You return to that, losing yourself in the meticulous movements of your brush.

It feels like it’s been too long. You try to focus on the canvas in front of you, but there’s a nagging sense in the back of your mind that something is wrong. It sits heavy at the base of your skull as you try to ignore it.

Eventually, it becomes too much. You check your phone to make sure that you haven’t missed his call, but there are no notifications. It’s been a little over two hours. You unlock your phone and pull up his contact in a second, pressing the video icon. Typically, he’ll pick up after one or two rings, but you hear the third ring, the fourth. The call disconnects, shock shooting up your spine. It only lasts a second, your phone ringing with a voice call almost immediately.

“Hey sweet girl,” Matthew greets you in his typical fashion as soon as you accept the call. There’s something off about his voice, and it takes you a second to realize what it is.

“Hey there, darling,” you respond, voice as gentle as you can manage. It’s not the first time you’ve heard Matthew cry, but it breaks your heart every time. As much as he tries to seem tough and aloof, you know how deeply losses like this affect him. Now it makes sense that he didn’t want video involved.

“How are you?” he asks, clearly moving his face away from the receiver as he sniffles, but you can still hear it. You move to the couch, sinking into the cushions, as if you’re as crushed as he is.

“I’m okay,” you reply, “You holding up okay?” You know he’ll say that he’s fine, but you also know that he’s not. He may not be for a while. There’s a pause, a long stretch of silence, only interrupted by his deep, labored breaths.

“I wish you were here,” he says. He sounds absolutely miserable, his voice cracking in the middle of the sentence. The urge to hold him is overwhelming, your arms buzzing with the desire to wrap around him. You want to pull him down into your lap, let him tuck his head into the crook of your neck, let him cry on you as you scratch his scalp and kiss his head. Lockdown isn’t the only reason that can’t happen.

“I’m going to hug you so hard,” you insist, “As soon as I can see you again.”

July, 2023

While you’re still a third wheel with Brady and Emma, it’s better than being a fifth wheel with the entire group. You’d asked Taryn if she wanted to tag along, but she has training to do. Brady had already done his that morning, so he’s free for the rest of the day, and had invited you to spend some time together.

You’re certain that he doesn’t know how you feel about this place, how much it hurts to be here. As far as he’s aware, this is your favorite park, the one you visit with Matthew at least a few times a month every summer. He probably thinks it’s a great choice, something to cheer you up from the slump you know he’s noticed.

Despite the memories tugging at you from every direction, you’re mostly in a good mood. You’d gotten excellent news the day before yesterday, an opportunity you’ve dreamed of for a long time. You wanted to text Brady right after the meeting to tell him, but you’d decided it was better to share it with him and Emma in person. You’re debating something that absolutely doesn’t matter, all of you talking over each other. You’re waiting for the right moment to change the conversation. It doesn’t come until almost an hour into your walk, but you jump on it as soon as it does.

“I have some cool news,” you say, breaking the silent pause that had fallen over the group.

“Well?” Emma replies, “Go on.” The excitement is bubbling up inside of you again at the thought of it, your stomach turning, your chest too full.

“You know that gallery downtown that I love?” you ask, continuing after they agree, “I’m going to do a show there.” They stop in their tracks, Emma immediately enfolding you in her arms. You hug her back, squeezing tight as she bounces on her toes. When she pulls back, she holds your face in her hands, voice high and thrilled as she congratulates you. The smile on your face is unavoidable, happiness from the news mingling with the happiness of your friends being proud of you.

“Cool news, huh?” Brady asks, lightly smacking your shoulder as he says, “What an understatement.” The circle of his arms feels safe, his chest warm against your cheek as he holds you tight. The look on his face when he releases you is the best reaction you’ve gotten so far, his pride meaning more than anyone else’s.

“When is it?” he asks, taking Emma’s hand in his own once again and resuming the walk. You follow along, too excited to be self-conscious of the visible skip in your step.

“August 20th,” you say. There’s an unspoken question there, a silent invitation. You don’t want him to feel pressured to come, knowing that despite how supportive he is of your artistic endeavors, he’s not big on things like art shows. In the end, you don’t have to ask.

“You know we’re coming, right?” he asks, aiming a crooked smile at you, “You can’t stop us.” Though the smile hasn’t left your face since you brought up the topic, it gets brighter in return.

“I’d never dream of trying to,” you reply, and you mean it.

October, 2020

It’s odd to have the boys around at this time of year, the season usually taking them away at the end of August. You’re grateful for it, though. It means that you get to spend time with them, lockdown finally over, freeing you from the confines of your apartment. Your job has stayed remote, so you’re able to be around even more, saving time on what used to be an hour long commute each way.

Right now, it’s you and the boys, Emma, and Terri. You’d introduced her to them less than a month ago, but they already love her, just as you knew they would. She doesn’t always come around with you, considering how you spend nearly every day at the Tkachuks’, but she has some time today.

After twenty minutes of debating what you should watch, you all agree on a true crime documentary. You’ve given up your chair for Terri, squishing yourself onto the couch with Brady and Emma, pressing your cold feet against her leg and laughing when she yelps. She kicks you, only serving to make you laugh harder. Brady playfully threatens to fight you to defend his woman’s honor, and you put your fists up in front of you, jabbing out into the air as if you’re going to take him up on the offer. He chuckles, reaching out to fist bump you instead of punch. You drop your hands, looking past his big ass head.

Matthew is lounging in the second chair, the leg rest of the recliner up despite his legs being crossed under him. It’s the only way the chair will lean back, he’d told you once, and he doesn’t like sitting upright.

The smile on his face isn’t the wide grin you’d expected. It’s small, a gentle turn of the lips. Combined with the look he’s giving you– something unfocused, something unbearably soft– it implies an emotion that you know can’t be the correct interpretation. You swallow hard, turning your eyes back to Brady.

“Press play already, nerd,” you demand, tone playful enough to show that you don’t mean it. He sticks his tongue out at you, but does as he’s told.

Five minutes in, you glance over at Matthew, finding him already looking at you. You look away, slightly embarrassed to be caught. Another five minutes later, you can’t help but peek back at him again, as if your eyes are magnetized to him. It’s almost disappointing that he’s actually looking at the screen. It only takes a second for his eyes to move to the side, peering at you in his peripheral. The corner of his lips quirks up the tiniest bit, almost unnoticeable. But you notice.

You only make it maybe half an hour into the film before Matthew leans forward and snatches the remote from its place next to Brady. The plaintive sound Brady lets out is kind of funny, but you seem to think everything is funny today. Matthew pauses the show, declaring that the group needs snacks.

“Y/N, come give me a hand,” he says, beckoning you to follow him. You grumble a bit, but stand and follow him up the stairs and out of the den. He leads the way through the living room and into the kitchen. They’re fancy, so they have a walk-in pantry, of course. The two of you enter one after another. You start looking at the snack section, deciding what to grab. The good thing about being the one to retrieve the food is that you get to choose whatever you want and there’s nothing the others can say about it.

You’re rifling through the chips and pretzels when you feel a presence close behind you. It’s obviously Matthew, but he’s so close that you can feel the heat of his body radiating into your back. His left hand comes into your field of vision, pressing to the shelves next to your head. You twist your neck to look back at him, confused as to what he’s doing.

You’re not expecting the look he’s giving you. His eyes dark, completely focused in on your face. Your eyes flick from his eyes to his mouth without your permission. He’s not smiling, his lips parted just a fraction of an inch.

He rests his right hand on your shoulder, using it to turn your entire body around to face him. You can feel how dumbfounded your expression is as you stare up at him, your brow furrowed, your mouth slightly agape. He returns the gesture of looking at your mouth, his tongue quickly flicking out to wet his lips. He looks like he’s about to eat you alive. You would let him.

There’s a long, unbearable stretch of silence as the two of you just stare at each other, faces only a scant few inches apart. If this were anyone else, you would know exactly what’s going on, exactly what they want. But this is Matthew, your insanely wonderful, insanely hot, insanely out of your league friend. There’s no chance that he’s about to do what it feels like he is. No matter how many times you steal glances at each other, how closely he holds you, how many times he allows himself to be vulnerable with you, there’s no chance he’d ever want you. And just as you tell yourself that, he speaks.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his breath brushing across your lips from the proximity. Your eyes go wide, your mouth falling open wider in shock. You’ve spent the last two years valiantly suppressing any type of attraction you have to him, trying to respect his station as your best friend’s brother. And now, in just four words, he’s let it all loose. It floods you inside, so overwhelming, so much to take all at once that it triggers a full system reset. You swear your heart stops, your mouth opening and closing as you struggle to tear the words from your lagging brain.

The words won’t come. The look on Matthew’s face is changing, something embarrassed, something guilty. He moves back an inch and you reach out, unwilling to let him go. You cup his face in your hands, pulling him in to press your lips together.

It’s lingering, almost chaste, and entirely sensational. Your lips are tingling, sparks shooting down your spine. Your chest feels cracked open, your innards exposed for his inspection, your true self exposed for his judgment.

When you pull back and open your eyes, his are still closed. He looks like he’s in heaven, like he’s trying to imprint this moment in his mind the same way that you are. After a moment, his eyelids slide up and he looks at you again. His eyes are hazy, unfocused, his blown pupils leaving only a thin ring of blue around the edge of his iris.

“Again,” he says, breathless, “Please.”

Who are you to deny him?

The second kiss is as good as the first, your breath abandoning your body to pant out against his lips. You meet again, his tongue flicking out for half a second to touch your top lip. It makes you breath hitch, makes you kiss him again, makes you gently bite his full bottom lip. The sound he lets out is barely audible, but it only feeds the fire inside of you, an inferno that blazes up from your hips to your throat. You cradle his face in your hands, hold just strong enough to move his head how you want, to slot your mouths together perfectly each time.

“Hurry up, asshole!”

Brady’s shout violently snaps you out of your haze. You jerk backward, trying to step away, but already pressed against the shelves. Matthew doesn’t seem as put off as you, smiling as if nothing happened. You relinquish your hold on his face, dropping your hands to your sides. His hands had wandered as you kissed, one on your waist, the other on the back of your neck. He squeezes once at the base of your skull, dipping in to give you one last quick kiss.

After frantically grabbing random snacks, you return to the den. You can feel how hot your face is, and you can only hope that it’s not too obvious how flustered you are. You and Matthew deposit the snacks on the coffee table, everyone immediately selecting one. You curl back up in your chair, legs pulled up to your chest as you lay sideways, head on the armrest.

Every time your eyes drift to Matthew for the rest of the evening, he’s looking back.

January, 2021

Just as the day the boys come home is the best day of the year, the day they leave for the season is the worst. Sometimes you wish you were Emma, that you could follow them back and forth and never be without them. But St. Louis is your home, is where you have a job and friends and more recently, family.

You’d helped both boys pack for the past few days, but you won’t be able to go along to drop them off at the airport. When Matthew had left for the playoffs, Emma had offered you her spot in the car. You’d told her that she didn’t have to, but she’d assured you she wanted it that way. She has to go along this time, so the car is already overpacked. Besides, you have to work that morning anyway.

You still show up at the Tkachuks’ beforehand, so early that the sun hasn’t made an appearance yet. Matthew had forgotten to pack his favorite sweater, of course. You fish it out from where it had fallen under his bed, straightening up to hold it out to him. He thanks you, deciding to wear it for the flight instead of shoving it into one of his bags. It looks good on him. Cozy.

Brady and Emma are double checking their room as well, one door down from you. Keith, Chantal, and Taryn are down in the living room, waiting as patiently as they’re capable of, which isn’t very much.

Being alone with Matthew used to be exciting, used to make your heart change its rhythm, used to start up a buzz under your skin. Now, it’s just… comfortable. Safe. Right.

When Matthew approaches you, crowding up into your space, you know exactly what he wants. The first time you’d kissed should have been the last. You’re too drawn to him, feel too much toward him, more than you should. More than he will ever return. The two of you haven’t discussed exactly what you’re doing here, but it’s clearly meant to be casual. Matthew isn’t typically the kind to shy away from voicing what he wants, and he hasn’t spoken up to define anything.

Is that what you want? You’re not sure. Making out like teenagers for months has been nice, has satisfied a part of you. But only a part.

You’re avoiding thinking about what you want, too afraid of what you’ll find. Some part of you, buried deep inside, hidden behind a recently built wall, already knows. If you allow yourself to acknowledge it, this will end badly. If you allow yourself to want, you’ll destroy yourself in the process.

The kisses he lays on your lips stay sweet, gentle presses, just a tease of tongue here and there. His arms are wrapped around you, resting on your shoulders, while your hands rest on his hips. You haven’t progressed past kissing, and you’re not sure if he wants anything beyond this. You’ll take what you can get.

Keith calls up the stairs for you to hurry up, lest the boys miss their flights. Matthew leaves one last peck on your lips, just as he always does before you part. You glance around his room a final time, making sure everything is packed. You help him bring his bags downstairs, help him and Emma get their things outside and into the car. You’ll have to go home as soon as they depart, and you’re actually a little grateful that you have work to distract you from the first hours of missing them.

As per usual, Emma is the first to hug you. You squeeze tight so that you can lift her off of her feet for a second, just to make her laugh. Brady grabs you next, as if both of them know that Matthew wants to be last. Brady wiggles you side to side, planting a kiss on the top of your head. You headbutt his shoulder, then kiss the same spot you’d hit. He says how much he’ll miss you, something he always reiterates for a few days before he leaves. You return the sentiment honestly, earnestly. When he pulls back, you punch his chest lightly, and he returns the gesture.

Matthew steps up and opens his arms, and you step into them easily. He doesn’t squeeze too hard, just holds you close, hand cupping the back of your neck, calming your anxiety and dulling the sharp edge of your pain.

“Gonna miss you so much, sweet girl,” he whispers into your hair, just loud enough for you to hear. You try to swallow the lump that has suddenly formed in your throat.

“Miss you already,” you reply, a little uneven, a little raw, “Can’t wait to see you again.” He places a kiss on your head as Brady had, but his lips linger, hesitant to let go. But he does let go.

They all wave as they drive off, Brady, Emma, Matthew, and Taryn all crammed into the back seat. You wave back, watching the car go, staring down the street even after the car turns and disappears.

Time to work, you suppose.

July, 2023

Art has never frustrated you so much in your life.

When you were young, the struggle and annoyance came from trying to get things just right, though they were above your skill level. As a teenager, it was due to the struggle of developing your own unique style. In college, it was not having the energy to paint most days, falling asleep at the easel others.

For the past month, the art has been flowing. You’ve been painting most every day, the ideas coming easily, creating almost a compulsion that you can’t resist. It’s only satisfied when the painting is complete. There are a couple dozen or so canvases scattered around your apartment to dry, the most you’ve ever produced in a single month. But the frustration– the frustration comes from the fact that all of your ideas are about him. All of your paintings are moments with him, things he’d said, how you’d felt, how you’d hoped he felt.

There’s a feeling inside of you, as if you’re right on the edge of catharsis, as if you paint just one more thing, you’ll be able to let it all go. That’s your motivation for everything you’ve been making, just desperately searching for the release that will save you from the pain. At this point, you’re not sure it will ever come.

You’re working on a bigger canvas, the biggest you’ve used in years. You’re glad your current job allowed you to move into a bigger apartment, because you surely wouldn’t have been able to fit something like this in your old shoebox, packed so full of your things that you’d barely had space for an 11x14. You have to stand to reach the upper portion, swiping a brighter red over the dark red base. You don’t want it to be about him. It is anyway.

The show at the gallery is rapidly approaching, only a month away. You’ve been working with the curator to decide which pieces to use, filing through years of work. So far, everything that she’s found compelling has been about him. Things you’ve made recently, things you made years ago when things were still good. One day, you’ll get over this. But not today. Today still just hurts.

June, 2021

With neither of the boys making the playoffs, they’d come home earlier than usual this year. Sadly, Brady is pretty used to it by now, usually coming home around this time anyway. You’re used to getting a few weeks with Brady and Emma before Matthew comes home, but you don’t have that this year.

While Brady sulks for about two days when he gets home, Matthew is far more upset. The Flames had made the playoffs for the last couple years, and he was getting used to being a contender. So not even getting a chance at it this year clearly stung. He moped around for a week or two, face tight and arms crossed over his chest most of the time. The only time he let his arms down, let his guard down, is when the two of you were alone.

You’d comforted him through the couple weeks of upset, even staying the night a few times. It wasn’t intentional, you’d just stayed so late that you fell asleep, and Matthew didn’t have the heart to wake you. You have to get up early to get home for work, so you’d snuck your way out of the house before anyone else had woken. You’re not sure how Keith and Chantal would have felt about you staying the night in Matthew’s bed, but you know what they would have thought was going on, and you didn’t want to put yourself or Matthew in that position.

Once he’d relaxed, taken a deep breath and accepted defeat, he went back to being his regular happy, seemingly aloof self. You’re grateful for it, not a fan of seeing him upset and always wanting to help him through and cheer him up.

June had come kindly, bringing along more sun and nicer weather. You and Matthew had resumed your walks in the park, and the whole group of you spend about as much time outside as you do in the den. Things with Matthew had picked up where they left off in January, him pulling you into a secluded area any time he could get you alone, kissing you senseless. You’d missed the feeling of his lips, of his body pressed to yours.

Tonight is one of the more rare nights where Matthew comes to your apartment, instead of you going to his parents’ house. You’ve offered to make dinner and follow it up with movies. You’re already on the couch, your dirty dishes abandoned on the coffee table. You’re laying on your side, Matthew spooned up against your back, your knees hanging off of the couch with the way they’re bent to accommodate Matthew’s too-long legs. You’re warm and comfortable, enjoying the feeling of safety that he brings, something you’ve very rarely felt in your life before.

The movie is good, but you’ve found that being in Matthew’s arms makes you sleepy, so you’re having a hard time focusing. You manage to mostly follow it, letting out a jaw-cracking yawn when the credits start to roll.

You feel Matthew place a kiss on the back of your neck without comment. Then he’s moving you, rearranging your bodies carefully until you’re on your back, Matthew staring down at you from his position straddling your thigh. The way he’s looking at you is intense, somehow simultaneously fond and hungry. It wakes you up almost instantly, and you reach out to rest your hands on his thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly, reverently. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it feels different now. Maybe it’s the position you’re in, maybe the way he’s looking down at you as if he wants you, as if he–

He takes your hands in his own, bending down as he brings them up to cradle his cheeks. You run your thumbs across his high cheekbones, tilt his head up a little by the jaw as his eyes slide shut. You press your fingers into the soft spot behind his jaw, under his ears, pull him down, down, down.

Kissing him feels as easy as breathing. Guiding his head this way and that to get a better angle, pressing your lips together over and over, longer each time, deeper. Matthew has one hand on the arm of the couch to hold himself up, the other wrapped loosely around your wrist. He’s not trying to move you or take control, just holding on as if he needs something to ground him. You press your thumbs into the hollows of his cheeks, feeling the solid wall of his teeth under the skin. His mouth drops open and he lets out a soft sound. You press your thumbs in harder, between the new gap between his upper and lower teeth, testing how far you can push from the outside.

He squeezes your wrist once and you release the pressure. His mouth stays open, lips wet and shining. He opens his eyes halfway, as if his eyelids are too heavy to get all the way up, eyes hazy and unfocused.

Again, he squeezes your wrist. He’s suddenly standing, using his grip to guide you up as well. He immediately crowds up against you, as if being more than an inch away will kill him. His eyes have managed to refocus, but there’s still a dreamy look in them.

He takes a step backward, using the hand that had instinctively gone to the back of your neck to bring you with him. He kisses you, lingering. He takes another step back, gives you another kiss. He rounds the end of the couch and you realize where he’s leading you, kind of impressed that he can find his way to the bedroom without even looking.

Of course, your heart is a frantic mouse scurrying around your chest, thumping hard like you’re a prey animal facing down a predator. But as much as it freaks out in the cage of your chest, there’s no panic in your head. Being with Matthew calms your mind, keeps your hands from trembling, feels so right that you can’t find a reason for the anxiety that used to plague you around him.

He stops you halfway between the door and the bed, pulling back a couple inches to stare down at you. You’re hesitant to put a name to the look on his face, not sure if reverent is being dramatic.

You flatten your palms against the front of his shoulders, shoving him gently, bullying him toward the bed. He allows it for a moment, but stops after a few steps. He takes your hands in his own, brings them to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. You try to swallow down the desire that grows inside of you, threatening to spill out. He holds your hands close to his face, enough that you can feel his lips move when he speaks.

“You don’t have to be in control, sweet girl,” he says, lays another kiss on the bump of your right middle finger, looks deep into your eyes with such adoration you feel ready to split at the seams.

“Let me take care of you,” he says. The part of you that’s spent your entire life with a fist clenched desperately around any sense of control that it could find, for the first time, relinquishes its hold. And Matthew does, indeed, take care of you.

February, 2022

It’s your first time in Vegas, and the atmosphere is electric. There are hockey fans everywhere, plenty of people wearing jerseys as they explore the strip. Everything is so big, so bright, so fancy. As exciting as it is to be here, it makes you feel a little off, a little like you don’t belong. It reminds you of the first time you’d been to the Tkachuks’ house, amazed at how different everything is from the way you grew up.

Each player was supposed to be allotted two tickets, but they had allowed Brady to take additional tickets for his family, considering Matthew is his brother, in addition to how well-known and beloved Keith is. He’d managed to get Emma included as well, luckily.

You weren’t sure how he did it, but Brady had gotten another player to give one of his tickets so that you could come. Apparently the guy’s family couldn’t make the trip, and he only had one friend that he really wanted to bring. He won’t tell you who it was, but the way that Timo Meier winks at you as he passes the stands gives you an idea. You weren’t aware that the two talked, but there’s always the possibility that he had just gone around and asked everyone. The idea makes something bloom in your chest, as if you could love Brady more than you already do. You’ll have to find a way to thank Timo some time.

The skills competitions are fun, though Brady doesn’t win anything. It’s nice to see the players relaxing and having fun, a well-deserved break from the stress of the season.

You all go out to an early meal before the games the next day. You don’t realize until you arrive that Jack Hughes and his family were joining you, and you trip over your own feet when you see them waiting for you. You’re a huge fan of Jack’s, but more than that, Ellen Weinberg-Hughes is an icon. You stumble with your words when you greet her, shaking her hand and screaming silently in your head. With how the boys are looking at you as you do so, they obviously anticipated your reaction and are incredibly satisfied with themselves.

For the meal, you’re sat between Matthew and Jack. You’re grateful that Matthew is next to you, needing his calming presence as you meet some of your favorite players. The families are friendly with each other, the parents catching up on the news of each others’ lives, the children doing the same in separate conversations.

You spend most of the dinner talking to Jack, Quinn, and Matthew. They tell you all sorts of things, including embarrassing stories about Matthew that you weren’t privy to. You grin at Matthew every time they share one, absolutely intending to tease him about it later. This seems to be what the Hughes boys want, eager to give you more ammunition. Matthew buries his face in his hands at one particularly humiliating story, even as he shakes gently with quiet laughter. When he emerges and sits back up, you take a chance, placing your hand on his thigh. You squeeze once, trying to reassure him. He does his best to not react, but he also rests his hand on top of yours under the table.

“So you’re a painter, right?” Quinn asks at one point, curiosity evident in his perpetually sleepy eyes.

“Yeah,” you confirm, asking “How did you know?” You’d told them about your official job, but you hadn’t mentioned being a traditional artist in addition to a graphic designer. Jack turns a smug smile on you.

“Matthew talks about you a lot,” he says, pleased with himself. You look to Matthew just in time to see his face flush.

“Shut up,” he says to Jack, which only makes him smile wider. Jack’s attitude rubs off on you a little, and you give Matthew a delighted smile.

“How much is a lot?” you ask Jack, feeling Matthew dig his fingertips into your knuckles.

“Like, a lot,” Jack replies, Quinn nodding from his other side. You look back to Matthew, who looks like he wants to crawl under the table and hide.

“I talk about him a lot, too,” you say. That makes Matthew look at you again, bright eyes nearly sparkling in the restaurant’s dim lighting. His expression shifts, a small, grateful smile scrunching his eyes up the slightest bit.

After dinner, you all make your way to the arena. Brady and Jack left a while before the rest of you, needing to arrive in time to get dressed and likely do some more media. Before he’d left, Jack had requested your phone, creating a contact for himself and inputting his number. As he dud, you turned your face away, toward Matthew, opening your mouth wide as if you’re screaming. He looked amused at it, but there’s a sharp edge there. Quinn took the phone next, doing the same thing. You squeezed Matthew’s thigh again, and his expression softened. You’ve been following the Hughes brothers since they were in Juniors, and having them like you enough to want to keep in touch– you can only describe the feeling as elation.

The lines are out the door at the arena, and a few people catch the boys to request photos before you can get to the special entrance for players’ guests. They’re all very kind and courteous about it, taking a few pictures with people, finding a way to move through the crowd even as they do so. You probably should have come a different way, or maybe gotten there earlier, but as long as the boys don’t mind, you don’t either.

The seats are good, the second row of the first balcony. It seems to be the section that they put all of the family and friends, people milling around and chatting with each other. You spot Johnny’s parents a couple rows away, the only people around that you’ve met before. You wave to them and they return the gesture. They make their way down to your seats, greeting each of you in turn. They start chatting with Keith and Chantal, so you continue talking to Taryn and Emma.

The games are great, surprisingly fast. The Atlantic division plays a great game again Central, despite losing by 3. You still can’t help being proud of Brady. You’ve been next to him since his first season, and you’ve loved getting to watch him grow and improve. As long as he’s in the world, you’re going to be proud of him.

The final is awesome too, and you jump up to cheer when Jack scores in the first. When the Metropolitan wins, you high-five Taryn, glad that Jack could win when Brady couldn’t. Not a bad consolation prize.

The group hangs around for a while after, and you get to meet a bunch of new people. Everyone is so nice, making you feel welcome, feel like you belong. When you finally start up the stairs to leave, Johnny’s mom Jane stops you for a second. She pinches your jersey and gives you a sly smile.

“Just a family friend?” she asks, not a question but a suggestion. A few years back, Matthew had given you one of his jerseys to wear to a game, and you’ve worn it tonight, despite him not playing. You realize now how it could be interpreted, ducking your head for a second to smile at the floor, before looking back up to Jane.

“Just a family friend,” you say, firm and definitive. She holds your gaze for a moment, looks behind her at Matthew, who’s waiting patiently a few steps up. He’s looking at you, that soft look he gives you sometimes. After a second, he smiles brightly at Jane. She waves and turns back to you.

“We’ll see,” she says. She pats your shoulder twice before making her own way up the stairs with Guy. Once you process the statement, you shake your head and make your way up to Matthew.

“What was that?” he asks as you enter the corridor. There’s no way you can tell him the truth, and honestly, you’re not sure what the fuck that was either. You just shrug at him, continuing your way out of the arena.

The comment sticks with you, no matter how you try to brush it off. Johnny is Matthew’s best friend, and you’ve met Jane a few times before. If it had been a stranger, you would’ve dismissed it outright. But to hear it from someone who actually knows the two of you? That’s harder to let go.

July, 2023

Laurel, the curator for the gallery hosting your show, is a lovely woman. She’s also very, very good at her job. You’ve been to countless shows at this gallery, and they’re always perfectly compiled, excellently arranged. You’ve brought her your most recent paintings today, which makes you glad that you have a car, because hauling them through the city would be a nightmare.

The only problem you have with Laurel is that she seems to see straight through you. You’re not used to someone looking past the professional figure you present, let alone someone seeing every part of you that you put into your art.

She’s staring at your offerings, examining every last detail. She’s already chosen about half of the pieces that will be displayed, creating a theme with your relatively impressionist style. She moves one canvas to the side, away from the others. She takes an extra few minutes to consider one of them, the largest one. It just finished drying yesterday. Having to see it every day as you passed it in the living room has been torture.

“Everything except that one,” she says, gesturing to the one she’d set aside. If she wants all of these, that’s likely going to be everything for the show. With everything else she’s chosen, this is all they have the wall space for, considering the way that you’ve seen Laurel arrange the art in previous shows you’d attended.

“That one is the centerpiece,” she adds, hand against her cheek as she continues staring at the large canvas. You swallow hard. Of course. Of course every painting she likes is about him. Of course the centerpiece will be him. No matter what you do, you’ll never escape him.

She asks a bit about your inspiration and motivation for the piece, and you give her vague answers that sound more philosophical than the real thing. The two of you discuss some of the minutiae of the show, trying to get everything finalized ahead of time. There’s less than a month left, and your excitement is starting to pair itself with dread.

When you get home, you go straight to your bedroom and throw yourself face first onto your mattress. You bury your face in a pillow, finally letting out the scream that’s been stuck in your throat since you learned of Tessa’s existence. It helps.

You make and have dinner, barely aware of what you’re eating. At least you can eat without getting nauseous now. You don’t feel like watching TV, probably wouldn’t be able to pay attention to a real show right now. Instead, you sit on your bed, leaning back against the headboard. You scroll social media mindlessly for a while, the ghost of Matthew next to you, his invisible arm pressed against yours.

February, 2022

Despite your better judgment, the first time you and Matthew had slept together wasn’t the last, either. It had continued through last summer, then again when he’d come to play the Blues. Now you’re in Calgary, in Matthew’s apartment for the first time, in his bed again.

A lot of people idolize the first time they sleep with someone, comparing every subsequent time to the first and often coming out disappointed. You had no reason to do so, because the sex only got better over time. As you and Matthew learned each other’s bodies, figured out what got the best reactions, the sex kept improving. Even if you wanted to fall back on your morals and resist him out of respect for Brady, you know you couldn’t stay away for long. It’s irresistible.

And it’s not just the sex. It’s the way he holds you after, lays on his back so that you can rest your head on his chest. It’s the way his breath ruffles your hair as you fall asleep together. It’s the things he says to you.

It’s the nights like this.

You’re in Matthew’s bedroom, the dark dead of night offering only the moon to light the room. Your head is on Matthew’s chest, his arm around you to keep you close, as if you would ever willingly leave. Your breathing had returned to normal a while ago, your body cooling off and beginning to recover from the rush of feeling. Matthew kisses the top of your head every so often, and you return the sentiment by tilting your head to lay kisses against his sternum.

“I wish I could keep you here forever,” he says, so hushed that you almost miss it. He’s always so quiet when he talks like this, as if he’s afraid to say it. He says these kinds of things anyway, but never above a whisper, not willing to share the vulnerability with anyone but you. Again, you press your lips into his skin.

“I wish I could stay here forever,” you reply. It would be nice, wouldn’t it? To stay here, with him. No need to be quiet so as not to wake his family, no having to sneak out in the morning, no work to keep you away. Just laying here, together.

“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” he says. There’s desire in his voice, of course, but also earnesty, like he really means it. Part of you would like to believe that he does, but another part knows how important it is to not get caught up in the fantasy. It’s easier said than done.

“Not any of the other girls you’ve had?” you ask. You’d meant for it to come out teasing, but your honest curiosity wins out. Then there’s a hand on your chin, fingers gently guiding your head up until you’re looking Matthew in the eye. It’s not exactly comfortable to crane your neck like this, so you prop yourself up on one forearm, resting the other hand where your head had been as you stare down at him.

“Never,” he replies, insistent. He looks so serious, sounds so sincere. You don’t say anything, can’t think of anything. There’s something in the wide roundness of his eyes that speaks to you, pulls you in, encourages you to search deeper. It takes a second to figure out what it is that’s hiding in there, but… it’s fear.

“I never want this with anyone else,” he says, tangling his fingers with yours over his racing heart. There’s a question you want to ask, something you’ve been wanting to ask for a while, but the fear in him has mirrored itself within you. You should just shut up, keep it to yourself. The words come out before you can convince yourself to stay quiet.

“What is this?” you ask. You’re not sure what answer you’re expecting, but you know which one you’re hoping for. He takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and for the first time, you don’t divert your gaze to admire the sheen of them, unable to look away from his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he says, pauses, presses your entwined hands harder to his chest, “But I never want to give it up.”

May, 2022

Again, Matthew is the second to come home. Brady returned almost a month before in April, the Senators not in the playoffs, as usual. You feel bad sometimes, because Brady is genuinely a great player, but his team has just struggled to gel together. Even through all of their trials, Brady insists on keeping hope. He loves his teammates, and that’s what really matters to him.

Matthew, on the other hand, isn’t so great at dealing with failure. The Flames make it to the second round, which is an achievement all on its own. But after winning Game 1, they’d lost four in a row and been knocked out. It feels to Matthew almost like they got swept, he explains over the phone after the final loss.

When he gets home, he once again spends a week sulking. You mimic what you’d done last year, though staying the night is intentional this time. So long as you sneak out before anyone wakes up, you’ll be fine.

On the eighth day, you tell Matthew for the hundredth time how proud of him you are. He shoots you a bittersweet smile and says that he’s proud of himself too, and you know he’s bouncing back. It doesn’t help that he’s been debating for months whether to re-sign with the Flames, an agonizing choice for him. He loves his boys, but he’s not sure he belongs there anymore. You’ve assured him that you’ll support him no matter what decision he makes. Johnny hits free agency next month, and if he moves, you’re not sure that Matthew will have the motivation to stay.

The next couple of weeks go by the same way that they always do, with you spending as much time with the Tkachuks as possible. At least, you think you’re doing a good job of acting like everything is the same as years past. No one knows about you and Matthew, and it seems like he wants to keep it that way. You like having this little secret life with him, getting to have him all to yourself. You’re okay with the way it is, you convince yourself.

June came quickly, having begun only four days after he’d returned. The weather improves, you and Matthew once again resume your walks in the park. You play yard games and watch trash TV with Brady and Emma. You help Chantal cook dinners, help Keith clean up afterward. Everything is back to the summer standard.

The day had been nice, sunny and warm. The light had turned the leaves of the trees golden during your walk this afternoon. The sun is long gone now. Nighttime has become your favorite part of the day, the only time you get to indulge in whatever it is that you and Matthew have. The only time you get to touch his skin, to hear the low sounds he can’t help but make, to feel his warmth against you, inside you.

It’s been some time since you’d finished, but you can’t quite fall asleep. Matthew is spooned up against your back, face buried in the nape of your neck. You’re not sure if he’s asleep or not, too distracted to bother trying to figure it out. You’ve been thinking about it since your visit to Calgary. Any time Matthew called, or texted, or even crossed your mind, you thought of it. It made your heart leap into your throat, your breath catching as you choked on it.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing together, what you are. He didn’t give the response you’d been hoping for, but he didn’t outright deny it either. Sometimes you think it would have been better if he had, if he’d said that it was just sex. Then you could start working on moving on. You wouldn’t have to lie awake at night, wondering.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his groggy voice making you startle and snapping you out of your head. You take a deep breath, debating yourself for a couple seconds before you decide.

“Nothing,” you reply, patting his forearm where it’s snaked around your waist, “Go back to sleep.” He takes a quick, deep breath, the air rushing out over your skin. You’re helpless to resist when he starts moving you. If you did put up a fight, push back against his hands, you know he would stop. But you’re tired.

“What’s wrong?” he asks again once you’re flipped to face him. He looks tired too, the exhaustion of the season still lingering. The moonlight paints his face in silver. It makes his skin shine, almost glowing in the darkness.

“I’m afraid,” you say. You wish he hadn’t turned you around. It would be easier to speak it into the wall than it is to say to his face. You say it anyway, watching his brow furrow, admiring the way the silver light adds contrast to the wrinkles the expression creates.

“Of what?” he asks. You could make something up. Telling him that you’re afraid of monsters under the bed would be less embarrassing. You’ve never been very good at lying to him.

“The day you move on,” you whisper, invisible pressure on your throat making the words come out tight and unsteady. The surprise on his face surprises you in return. He’d refused to put words or labels to whatever this is, of course you would think that he’s going to leave eventually. You’d have to be an idiot to think that he means it when he says forever.

“I won’t,” he says, resolute. You can only manage a half-smile for him.

“You’re not the first man to say that,” you reply. He reaches up and cradles your cheek in his wide palm, warmth seeping into your skin.

“But I’m the first one to mean it,” he says. You close your eyes. They begin to prickle at the corners, but you refuse to cry about any of this. He’s so adamant, so steadfast in his insistence. You try to remind yourself of what this isn’t, what it will never be, but you’ve never trusted someone the way you trust him, and you can’t help believing him anyway.

August, 2023

You hadn’t anticipated this happening, let alone how hard it would be, but finally, finally it’s a little bit easier.

You’re not over Matthew, not by a long shot. It’s going to take months, years. It may never happen, who knows? As long as you can cope with it, can keep your friends around, that’s all that matters.

The first half of the day was spent with both boys and their girls. You didn’t have to curl up so tightly on your chair, didn’t have to force words out so they didn’t think anything was wrong. Conversation was relatively easy, topics changing and flowing naturally. You’d smiled, laughed, and a couple of times you actually meant it.

Matthew had apparently planned a date for Tessa and himself, so they excuse themselves in the late afternoon. Brady, Emma, and you stick around the den for a bit, continuing to talk. Eventually, Emma stands, stretching dramatically.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggests. You’ve spent too much time lately sitting at an easel or curled up in bed, and a walk sounds like a great idea.

You expect it this time when Brady takes the three of you to the same park. It’s easier when you’re not blindsided by it, and you have the lovely memory of the last time you were here with the two to focus on, instead of Matthew. You walk for a while, music playing softly from Emma’s phone, tucked in her back pocket. Once you’re deep into the wooded area of the park, she stops dead in her tracks. You follow suit, spinning around to shoot her an inquisitive look. She takes the two steps forward to close the space between you two, grabbing you by the shoulders and walking you backward. You stumble, trying to look behind yourself to keep from falling. She pushes until the backs of your knees hit a bench on the side of the pathway and you fall onto it. You gape up at her, befuddled by the behavior and the way her arms are crossed over her chest.

“What’s going on,” she demands, not a question. You furrow your brow, at a loss for words. You know what she’s talking about, and you know that she knows that you know. But why would she wait until the day that it starts to fade, the day that you can finally think of something else, to ask you about it?

“C’mon, Y/N,” Brady says, plopping down on the bench next to you, “We know something’s wrong.” You had accepted the possibility of this back in June, but you weren’t expecting it to take almost three months for it to happen.

Your first instinct is that you absolutely can’t tell them. You’ve been keeping this secret for years, and if Matthew has his way, you’ll keep it forever. If Matthew gets his way, you repeat in your head. That’s it, isn’t it? All this time, you’ve been so focused on what Matthew wants that you ignored your own wanting. What do you want?

You want to tell someone, to finally have this horrid pain out in the open instead of keeping it caged up around your heart. You want your best friend and his wife to hug you. You want them to understand.

“Matthew,” the name tumbles out, and you don’t want to stop it. Brady and Emma are still looking at you, waiting for anything you want to tell them. God, Brady is your goddamn best friend and you’d convinced yourself that you couldn’t tell him something? That there was anything on this earth that he would shun you for?

It all comes spilling out in a rush. Everything from the first time you’d met him. Hell, some information that isn’t strictly necessary, but they don’t interrupt you or complain, so you venture on. It takes long enough to recount that Emma sits on the metal armrest of the bench. Brady’s holding one of your hands in his lap, Emma taking the other to do the same.

You’d promised yourself more than once that you wouldn’t cry about this, but you don’t really care enough to stop yourself now. The tears come two-thirds of the way through, falling silently as you recount some of the things Matthew had told you, the things he’d promised you. You’re not outright sobbing, so you manage to power through the rest of the story. Your eyes are squeezed tightly shut by the end, like closing them will block out the memories.

It takes a couple of minutes for the tears to stop. The three of you let the silence hang as you wait for it, nothing but the leaves rustling in the trees, something scurrying in the bushes. When you can safely open your eyes to face the world again, you look over to Brady. He looks devastated.

You watch his evolving emotions morph the expression on his face, from heartbreak to anger and back again. The anger makes your heart skip a beat, suddenly afraid that maybe the whole “I slept with your brother” thing will be a problem after all.

“Do you want me to kick his ass?” he asks, startling a laugh out of you. You know he’s dead serious, too. Part of you thinks it might be cathartic to see Matthew get beat up by his little brother, but your soft heart doesn’t want anything bad to happen to him. After everything he’s done to you, you still don’t want him to have to feel even a fraction of the pain you do.

February, 2023

This year, the boys don’t have to bribe anyone else to get you to the All Star Game. Each of them is allotted two tickets as per usual, but Taryn is too busy with school to come. She’d aimed a satisfied smirk at Matthew through the camera of her phone, saying guess you’ll have to take that one along as her eyes darted slightly to the left, clearly looking at where you were on the screen.

Since your work is remote, you’ve brought along your laptop. You spend the morning of the skills competition working, still averse to using your PTO if it’s not completely necessary. The boys have to do media, so there’s no one around to bother or distract you. You kind of wish there were.

The special skills competitions are as fun this year as they were last. You especially love Sidney Crosby in the dunk tank, seemingly having the time of his life. You may not know him personally, only having met him once in passing, but after everything he’s been through, you think he deserves some carefree fun.

The sun has set by time you emerge from the arena after the regular skills competitions. The days are shorter at this time of year, even in Florida. It is warmer than St. Louis, though, which you’re grateful for.

Jack is in the competition again this year, so you meet up with the Weinberg-Hugheses again that night. You’ve gotten much closer with Jack and Quinn over the past year, building relationships on texts and calls and dinners when they play the Blues. Luke has tagged along this time, and you get on with him just as well as his brothers.

Matthew shoots Jack a look when he slings an arm around you on the way back to your hotels after dinner, but Jack just grins at him. You’re still not sure what that’s all about, but you’re just going to stay out of it.

The games the next day are fantastic. You’ve never gotten to watch both of your boys win at once, and you love it. When the Atlantic wins the whole thing, you cheer so loudly your voice cracks. Emma laughs at you, but you just laugh along with her.

You stick around for a bit after the game again, Keith and Chantal mingling while Emma shows you the decorations she’s planning for the wedding on her phone. After a while, someone taps you on the shoulder from behind. You turn your head, immediately recognizing Jane. Johnny had made it again this year with his new team, so it would make sense that she’s here too. You stand, reaching up to hug her in her elevated position.

“Matthew got you a new jersey?” she asks, referencing the All-Star jersey you’ve got on. You wish you could say that you bought it for yourself, but it had indeed been a gift from Matthew. It shouldn’t be embarrassing, so you act like it’s not, even though it is.

“Yeah, he’s a great friend,” you reply, shrugging, “He likes to take care of me.” The thing about Jane is that she’s not really a jerk. Sometimes the you-and-Matthew comments bother you, but she’s generally a very sweet woman.

“It’s good to have someone like that,” she says, smiling gently at you, “Matthew is a good boy.” Jane had been at enough Flames games for you to know her, and definitely enough for Matthew to become a pseudo-son to her. They don’t interact much anymore, save for when she pops up in the back of Johnny’s facetimes, but you know she still has a soft spot for him. You don’t blame her.

“He really is,” you agree, nodding. The two of you make some small talk, and you get some updates on Johnny’s new life on the Blue Jackets. You give her some updates on Matthew in return. After a bit, Guy shuffles up next to Jane, telling her that it’s time to go. She acknowledges him quickly, turning back to take one of your hands in her own.

“I know he takes care of you,” she says, patting the back of your hand with her second, “But you take care of that boy, too. Okay?” You just nod, smiling and bidding her goodbye. Her and Guy retreat up the steps and out of view. You’re not sure why she feels the need to say these things to you, and you’re not sure why you take them to heart.

You meet Matthew and Brady outside the player entrance, the boys immediately scooping up you and Emma, respectively. Matthew sweeps you off of your feet for a moment, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Once you’re free, you start to dip forward, realizing what you’re doing at the last second and changing track to make sure the kiss lands on his cheek.

He beams at you, and you’re absolutely certain that you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to make him smile.

April, 2023

The day Brady comes home is the best day of the year, you remind yourself for the thousandth time. You’re excited to see him, you are. The way your chest has felt rent open for days isn’t his fault in any way. You’re not going to make him pay for being the messenger.

Once you all get the couple home, you go upstairs with Brady and Emma to help them unpack. They don’t really need help, obviously, but it’s an excuse to spend time together. Brady talks a little about the season, but mostly focuses on his plans for the summer. He talks about wanting to go see G, maybe even take a trip out to visit Tim.

For the most part, you just fold clothes and listen. Eventually, they switch to the topic of the wedding, Emma showing you even more pictures. She’d asked you to be a bridesmaid forever ago, so you’ve already seen most of it, had even helped her pick half of it out, but you’re never going to squash her excitement.

Exhausted from their travel, the two make their way down to the den after everything is put away, collapsing onto the couch. You curl up in your chair, allowing the couple to choose what you watch. They pick something or another, nothing that you can pay attention to right now. Instead, you find yourself examining Brady, picking apart his features, finding all the things he shares with Matthew.

It’s the best day of the year, you remind yourself again. The light of the TV highlights Brady’s jawbone and your skin crawls.

August, 2023

The show is going exceptionally well, exceeding your expectations. The space is filled with strangers, friends, and even your brother and his family. There are critics and collectors, some that you’ve seen at other people’s shows, some that you don’t recognize. Everyone wants to talk to you, and you don’t get a spare moment to breathe for the first few hours.

When you do get a chance to exhale, the rich couple that had been occupying you finally walking away, you catch the color out of the corner of your eye. You’ve been all around the building all night, mingling and networking in equal measure. You hadn’t realized where you ended up until right this second. You turn to the piece, staring as if you’d never seen it before.

You don’t need to look over to see who steps up next to you a minute later.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Matthew says. It doesn’t feel like an accusation, though it is one. All you can do is sigh.

“What did you expect me to do?” you ask, not expecting an answer. You glance at his hands out of the corner of your eye, noticing the wine glass in one hand, water glass in the other. Without a word, Matthew holds the water out in your direction, still fixated on the painting. You take it, feeling odd that not only does Matthew know that you forget to drink enough water, but also that he’s still trying to take care of you.

“It’s me,” he says after a pause. You’re both facing the largest canvas, the centerpiece. Swirls of bright red spread across a crimson background, highlighted with orange, accented with a royal purple. There, in the center, are two comparatively small, even circles of icy blue.

“They’re all you. Or about you, at least,” you say, seeing no need to deny it any longer, “About us.” It’s obvious that Matthew hadn’t expected you to admit it outright, thrown off for a minute by the admission.

“Can we talk?” he asks as you take a sip of water.

“We’re talking right now,” you reply, feeling petty. It’s his turn to sigh. He sets his wine glass down on the nearest horizontal surface before returning to your side, facing you this time.

“Somewhere private,” he clarifies, pauses, “Please.” You may be mad at him, enraged, incensed, but you’ve never been able to deny him anything, and you still can’t, even now.

You shut the storage room door behind you, flicking on the light to chase away the darkness. Matthew has his hands shoved in his pockets, looking around as if there’s anything interesting in here. You cross your arms over your chest, waiting for him to nut up and look you in the face.

“Listen,” he begins, rubbing the back of his neck but still not looking at you, “I know I should have gone about this better.” You snort. No shit. The sound finally brings Matthew’s gaze to meet your own.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Matthew says, motioning with his raised hand, “I didn’t think you’d care that much.” You can feel how incredulous your expression is, and you don’t even try to hide it.

“In what world would I not be upset?” you respond, “After everything?” You can hear yourself, know you sound like a bitter, jealous old ex, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and looks away again. When he looks back, there’s an almost pleading look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says, more sincerely than the first time, “You shouldn’t have had to find out from Brady.” You avert your gaze, working your jaw for a second before you raise your chin and square your shoulders.

“No,” you agree, “I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry I stopped talking to you,” he says, motioning helplessly with his hands, “You have to know how hard that was.” You shake your head, almost disgusted.

“Imagine how hard it was for me,” you reply. Your fingertips are digging into your own arm, fingernails biting into the skin. The fact that he would stand here and imply that this was a struggle for him– as if he expects you to offer sympathy– makes your stomach churn. The guilt in his expression makes you sickly satisfied.

“Listen,” he leads with that word again, as if he has any right to ask it of you, “I didn’t want to upset her. You know how some girls are.” You do know. And it’s still not an excuse.

“You didn’t tell her about me,” you say, anger and hurt straining your voice, “You said that I was just Brady’s best friend. You didn’t even tell her what we had.” You want to scream it at him, just want to scream in general. Maybe if you did, if you released your tight grip on control in a different way than you had with him, maybe it would make him understand.

“What did we have?” he asks. His voice is quiet, just as yours had been when you’d brought up the topic all those months ago.

“I don’t know,” you say, turning his own words back on him. It’s true, anyway. You’ve never known what any of this was. You’d only known what you wanted it to be, what you stupidly, fruitlessly hoped for.

“We never dated,” he replies, voice still low but seemingly not bothered by the uncertainty, “We never called it a relationship. You were never my girlfriend.” It’s a simple fact. It tears your heart out of your chest.

“Just because we didn’t name it doesn’t mean it was nothing,” you insist, squeezing your eyes shut for a second to push down the urge to cry before admitting, “I stopped dating.” He looks even guiltier at that, but it doesn’t soothe anything in you.

“I didn’t look at another man,” you continue, embarrassed and ashamed but unable to let him continue through life without knowing, “I didn’t even want to look at anyone else.” The shame makes the fiery anger burn brighter.

“I gave you three years of my fucking life,” you say, voice raising just enough to make Matthew flinch. You keep it reigned in enough that no one outside will hear, not interested in sharing this conversation with anyone else, especially not potential business contacts. The flames engulf your chest, lick up at your throat, threaten to consume you.

“I never asked you to do that,” Matthew replies, solemn. Your jaw drops, just half an inch, enough to part your lips as your breath hitches. He never asked. He never fucking–

“You–” you begin, breath catching in your throat as your eyes burn with tears you refuse to let escape, “Everything you said, everything you did, and you expected what? For me to just move on?” Your nails are digging so deeply into your biceps that you’re surprised they haven’t drawn blood. Matthew doesn’t respond right away, and you can’t tamp down the impulse to be petty.

“But I guess that’s what you did, huh?” you jab. Matthew shuts his eyes tightly, fists clenching like he wants to fight. It should be threatening, but you’ve always known that he would never dream of laying a finger on you in violence. But then again, you’d thought you knew a lot of things about him.

“Why do you care?” he asks, shoulders tense as he opens his eyes to stare you down, “You don’t even want me.” That shocks a laugh out of you, so completely ridiculous that you can’t help it.

“That’s the most fucked up part– I do want you,” you respond, simultaneously an answer and an admission. His brow furrows as he continues looking at you, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Did you seriously think I didn’t?” you ask, more of a demand, slightly offended because, “Do you think I said all those things for fun? For shits and giggles?” You can’t read his expression, don’t even bother trying. He can feel whatever he wants. That’s not your concern anymore. All you care about is the cold spreading through you, crawling up from the tips of your fingers, freezing your arms, creeping into your chest and beginning to extinguish your rage.

“I loved you, dickhead,” you continue, the words spilling out of you starting to sound pathetic, no matter how hard you’re trying to hold on to the anger, putting the last grasp of it into the words, “Stupid fucking idiot asshole, I loved you.” Matthew gapes at you, hands going lax at his sides. His jaw moves as if to say something, but nothing comes out.

“I loved you and you threw me away like garbage, and didn’t even have the balls to tell me yourself,” you force the sentence out, feeling like you’re choking on every syllable. Matthew’s breathing stutters. You’re expecting annoyance, irritation, maybe even shame or guilt. You’re not expecting his wide eyes, his eyebrows turned up in the middle, his slack jaw.

“You loved me?” he finally asks after a few agonizingly long seconds of silence. There’s something in his voice that you tell yourself you don’t care to analyze.

“Of course I did. How could I not?” you say, huffing as you look upwards, needing a momentary break from this staring contest, “The pathetic part, the part that makes me hate myself, is that I still do.” It’s physically painful to say, no matter that the hurt is psychosomatic. You’ve spent the last few minutes breaking open your ribcage, one bone at a time, revealing to him the space you’d made for him inside of yourself.

“You love me?” he asks, so dumbfounded that he’s repeating himself.

“Yes, Matthew,” you say, facing up to the dread inside of you, the one fact you’ve been struggling with the most since you’d found out the news.

“And I’m terrified. Because I’ve always loved you,” you pour out, barely able to hold yourself together as you meet his eyes, “And I’m afraid that I always will.” There’s not even space for half of a breath before Matthew speaks.

“Please do,” he says. His hands are open, palms facing your direction, as if pleading.

“What?” you ask.

“I didn’t know,” he says, and apparently he’s decided it’s his turn to reveal himself, “I was surprised that you wanted anything to do with me at all. But then you kissed me, and I spent the next three years waiting for you to leave.” The confusion comes over you so quickly that it almost masks the hurt.

“Why would I leave?” you ask. There’s been nothing subtle about your feelings. You’ve told him that he’s the only one you want, that you want to spend the rest of your life by his side, that he’ll always be the only one. How could he hear all of that and think that you would ever leave?

“Because you’re smart and kind and funny and hardworking–” he starts listing off.

“Tessa is all of those things too,” you cut him off. It doesn’t come out as resentful as you would’ve expected a sentence like that to. As you’ve told Terri, you really have nothing against Tessa. Besides, she really is everything he’s saying.

“But she’s not you,” his response comes immediately, emphatically, “I don’t want just anyone like that; I want you, and you happen to be that way.” You’re stunned into silence.

“It’s not the traits, it’s you,” he says, insistent, like he’s trying to convince you of your own worth, “And I kept waiting for you to find someone else, someone who wasn’t hotheaded and self-centered and–” He stops himself, swallowing so hard you can see his throat stutter under the thin skin of his neck.

“Someone better,” he finishes. The thing is that Matthew doesn’t have low self-esteem. He knows he’s a catch, and yet… And yet, he’s standing here, admitting that he’d still thought of you as being so far above him that you could never want him. And it’s not that there isn’t probably someone out there better than him–

“I never wanted someone better,” you tell him, voice almost a whisper. Growing up, you’d created this picture of the perfect man, told yourself that you’d find him one day, would never settle for less. Then you’d met Matthew, and he was nothing like that imaginary ideal. He was flawed; he was real. And you couldn’t help but love him for it.

“And I never wanted anyone else,” he replies, his own voice hushed to match yours, but no less certain, “I still don’t.” Three months ago, you would’ve given anything to hear that. But things are different now.

“I thought that if I went and found someone like you, someone close enough, that I could fall for them too,” he confesses, shame making his face tense, “I thought that if I stopped talking to you, if I kept my distance, that I could get over you.” A fraction of the anger buds in your chest at the idea.

“So you’re using Tessa,” you accuse, instantly offended on her behalf.

“No!” Matthew denies emphatically, pauses, shakes his head, “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” If he is using her, at least he seems ashamed about it. Something in his posture makes you think he isn’t, that he really thought he could love her.

“Look, she’s great. She’s amazing. She’s too good for me, too,” his shoulders have been hunched up to his ears, but they fall now, defeated, “She talks about that spark she felt when we met, the way she feels about me now, and I want, I really want to feel that way too. It would be easier if I could.” Believing this entire time that he truly loves her has been hell for you, but it’s still somehow worse to know that he doesn’t. That he did all of this, hurt you so deeply, for someone he doesn’t even love.

“As much as I’ve tried, I don’t. And I can’t,” he says, turning his gaze to the floor, “And if I’d ever thought that I had the slightest chance with you, I never would have dated her to begin with.” All these years, all those words, all the touches you’ve shared, and he’d still never taken you seriously. It’s not your fault, you know. But you realize now that for every time you’d indirectly confessed your feelings to him, he’d said the same things back. He’d returned every sentiment readily, easily. And as much as he’d apparently had the same idea as you, that the other could never love you back, you hadn’t seen it either. You’ve been just as ignorant of his feelings as he was of yours, just as deep in denial. And now there’s this rift between you, a deep chasm that keeps you apart, all for no reason.

“So, what now?” you ask. There’s nothing else to ask.

“What?” he seems genuinely confused.

“What now?” you repeat, too tired to be upset anymore, “You break her heart? Or do you keep pretending? Fake your way into a wife and kids and a house in the suburbs?” His confusion persists, tongue darting out to wet his lip the way it always does when he’s anxious.

“I thought–” he shakes his head the tiniest bit, as if he can’t believe what’s happening, “I mean, I love you. I want to be with you.” There’s a sadness sitting heavy in your chest, only getting deeper at his words.

“I love you too,” you say, tipping your head an inch to the right, perfectly aware of how melancholy your smile must be, “But you hurt me, and now you have to hurt her too. I thought you were better than this.” You’d thought the world of him. You don’t hate him now, could never force yourself to. But you are disappointed in how everything has played out.

“I thought you didn’t want better?” he says, not really a question. Your lips turn up another centimeter at that.

“Listen,” you say, turning the word back on him. You inhale deeply, exhale slowly. He stays quiet.

“The opportunity of a lifetime is on the other side of that door,” you gesture vaguely over your shoulder, then let your arms relax, your hands fall to your sides, “I don’t know what to do with any of–” you give another vague gesture, “--This.” The devastation is writ clear on his face, telegraphed by his posture, bared in the forefront of his miserably beautiful eyes.

“Out there?” you say, smile still in place, “I know exactly what I want. So I’m going to go get it.” you pause, take another deep breath, “And maybe you’ll be there tomorrow, and maybe you won’t.”

“I will,” he jumps in. You huff an almost-laugh.

“We can figure this all out later,” you say, sure a definite, “For now, I have to focus on the things that I’m sure of.” He nods, looks at the floor, raises his head and looks back at you.

“Did you used to be sure of me?” he asks, an uneven, shaky whisper.

“Yeah,” you say, your entire being feeling so heavy that you can barely hold yourself upright, “I used to be.”

September, 2023

While Brady had departed yesterday, Matthew doesn’t leave until tomorrow. It took some internal debate, but you’ve decided not to go along to drop him off at the airport. His family will think it’s weird if he doesn’t hug you, and you’re not sure if you can handle him touching you yet.

You’re curled up on the couch with a book, letting yourself get lost in the story. A knock comes on the door and you startle. You mark your page and stand, rounding the couch to open the door. When you do, Matthew is standing there.

“Hey,” he greets, giving you the same bittersweet smile you’ve become accustomed to over the past few weeks. You’d given him a key to your apartment right after you’d moved, but you appreciate him not using it right now. You welcome him in with a gesture of your hand, turning to lead the way. You get four steps away before he speaks.

“I broke up with Tessa,” he blurts out. He doesn’t seem happy about it, but he doesn’t seem particularly sad either.

“Why?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, “You’re that sure that I’ll take you back?” The anger comes and goes as it pleases, and it’s starting to sneak through the space between your ribs.

“No,” Matthew says, looking so unbearably fond of you, “I think you’ll tell me to get fucked.” Some days you want to.

“Then why did you break up with her?” you ask. Part of you has been wondering if, despite everything he’d said, he would stay with her. You’re not sure you would have been able to keep the conversation to yourself if he had, but you would have at least tried.

“Because none of this is fair to her,” he answers, shrugging, “She deserves someone who feels the same way about her that she does them. Someone who’s obsessed with her. She doesn’t deserve to be settled for.” You examine his expression, his stance, and realize that he’s truly being honest. He genuinely wants the best for her.

“How’d she take it?” you can’t help but ask. It makes him grin down at the floor for a moment.

“Honestly?” he asks when he raises his head, “Not great. Could have been worse, though.” As much as you love Matthew, you would have been proud of Tessa if she had slapped him.

“Probably should’ve been worse,” you reply. He grins again, tilting his head as he admires your face.

“Probably,” he agrees. For long moments, you both stand still, eyes locked.

“What now?” you ask, the same question as a couple weeks ago. He shrugs again, but he doesn’t seem as miserable or desperate as he had at the gallery.

“I don’t know,” he replies, that same phrase that you’re still trying to make peace with, “I know what I want. Same thing I’ve wanted this entire time. So I guess it’s up to you.” After three years of him encouraging you to give up control, to let go and follow his lead, he’s handing you the reigns now. However this ends or continues is completely your decision.

“You leave tomorrow,” you say, though you’re both viscerally aware of the fact.

“Yeah,” he gives you the crooked smile that had captured you the first time you’d met, “Don’t suppose you want to come with me? The winter weather’s nicer in Florida.” You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head at him.

“If you’d asked me that last summer, I probably would’ve said yes,” you admit. You kind of expect him to react with sadness, but you prefer the hope that blooms on his face.

“Maybe I’ll ask you again next summer?” he suggests, offering you the option. At this point, you have no idea where your relationship will be at this time next year. You don’t know if you’ll even have a relationship, of any kind. But if he’s willing to try, so are you.

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling wider than you have in a long while, “Next summer.”

June, 2024

The Hughes brothers are a funny trio. Seeing Jack’s upbeat, outgoing energy bookended on each side by two reserved, perpetually exhausted brothers is always kind of funny. You’d run down the pavement from the Tkachuk’s door to the driveway when you’d seen Quinn climb out of the car’s driver seat, immediately sweeping him up in a hug. The boys had decided to road trip around this summer, so of course you’d strongly suggested that they visit you.

You help them haul their bags out of the trunk, taking Luke’s backpack in hand and insisting on carrying it in for him. The three of them had started teasing you the instant they saw that Matthew hadn’t come out with you.

“Come on, I heard him at the All Star game,” Jack pesters, voice taking a mocking edge as he croons, “Sweet girl.” You laugh brightly, stopping the careful steps you’re taking backwards up the pathway to the house.

“We weren’t dating, I swear,” you insist. Plenty of people over the years have accused you of dating Matthew, but at least he’s funny about it. He stops in front of you, lifting his chin and giving a shit-eating smile.

“Wait, weren’t?” he asks, “As in, past tense?” You feel heat begin to crawl up your face. You’d intended to tell them, of course, but not the second they got here.

“Yeah,” Matthew calls from behind you, and you twist around to watch him close the space between you, “Past tense.” Jack’s glee is overt, but you can see the little signs of happiness on the other two boys’ faces too. Matthew lines himself up against your back, wrapping his arms around you, the gaudy Cup ring on his finger glinting in the light.

“Hey, sweet girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss into your hair. You can’t see him, but Jack’s smug face makes you sure that Matthew is staring straight at him. “My sweet girl,” Matthew says. It might be the best thing you’ve ever heard.

[lumi-nescentt]

Electric Touch

Part 1 - What Would You Do If I Went To Touch You Now

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 1.7k

Summary: y/n's affection for Lando hasn't gone unnoticed by the Australians she works with but despite their encouragement, she's convinced that finding things to dislike about Lando is the only way to save herself and her job.

A/N: Well hello there, it's been quite a while. I've been terribly busy with school things but I'm finally free so I'm gonna try and start posting again. Most of my WIP are xmas' themed (that's how long I haven't written for) but I have other ideas so bear with me pls :)

After joining McLaren in 2021 as Daniel’s PR manager, the girl had found a routine in her work with the papaya team, some comfort and calm in a world that always seemed rapid. That had, however, all been blown to pieces when Daniel had announced he wasn’t coming back the year after. With this new piece of information had come the sadness of losing someone she had grown accustomed to calling a friend more than a coworker but also the uncertainty of her place within the team without the Australian.  

Luckily for her, the arrival of a rookie in the team also meant that the PR manager position she was occupying was still available and so she kept her job. If Oscar and Daniel were both Australian, the resemblance pretty much stopped there. Where Daniel was all loud laughs and obnoxious jokes, Oscar was quieter and understanding his humour had taken some time. 

Despite that, Oscar and y/n became friends quickly. The girl was always there for him when the car wasn’t working like Zak had promised it would and even when they had media to attend and her work should have been her priority, she always made sure Oscar was 100% okay before sending him into the lion’s den. It made her a good PR manager and an even better friend. 

Being level-headed was a necessary part of the job and y/n liked to pride herself in how well she dealt with tricky situations without ever losing her cool or at least without showing any signs of it. It seemed like nothing or nobody could crack her. Except one person with a dimpled smile and green eyes that mostly sparkled with a hint of mischief whenever their eyes met.  

Falling for someone who worked for the same team had never been in y/n’s plans, especially not falling for a driver and yet that was the predicament she was in now.

From the moment Lando had grown out of his timid shell, y/n had known she was done for. Lando was everything she liked in a person, he was funny, kind, smart and so beautiful it made her head spin. If the situation had been different, maybe she would have allowed herself to feel like that but she couldn’t risk her job for what she hoped was some silly crush that would pass. 

However, the crush never faded and the more time passed, the more she found to like about Lando. She tried her best to ignore him, to ignore how her stomach felt when he was around and how she seemed to just forget how to act, how to be when he was close. She had hoped no one would notice it but the problem with spending so much time with a driver was that they got pretty good at reading you over time. 

Daniel had caught on exactly as it happened and he had teased her relentlessly for it when he knew she was in the mood for that. When he noticed how she was beating herself up over something she couldn’t control, Daniel offered a reassuring smile and a hug, reminding her that she was only human and having feelings for someone, no matter how great they were, wasn’t worth getting all worked up about and feeling guilty for.  

For the two years they worked together, Daniel tried to convince her to shoot her shot because if the longing glances his teammate was always throwing their way said something, it was that Lando was in the same predicament as her. No matter how insistent the Australian was, y/n never agreed to do anything to make her feelings known or even test the water with Lando.

In the end, Daniel gave up on her side and instead tried to convince Lando to do something. Just like she didn’t believe Daniel, Lando didn’t believe him when he told her that making a move was a good idea. Lando wasn’t confident enough to risk getting rejected, especially by someone he saw every time they were at the track. Before the Australian could make what he thought was a great love story happen, he stepped down from F1 and despite being a reserve driver for half of the season, he wasn’t there or had enough time to play Cupid so he just prayed that the two idiots he called his friends would wake up one day and realise how stupid they were being. 

When Oscar took his seat and started hanging out with the two of them, it didn’t take him long to put two and two together and realise that they were both painfully into each other but too blinded by their fears to actually see the whole picture. He found it sweet at first how Lando would always keep a seat for y/n in meetings, acting like he hadn’t meant to when she came in or how he would always make sure her favourite coffee was available in the McLaren hospitality when she worked trackside. He could tell that despite being scared, Lando desperately wanted something to happen. All the Brit needed was a little push and Oscar was determined to be the one to do it. 

When Oscar had told y/n that he knew about her feelings for Lando, she had wanted the ground to swallow her whole right this instant. Working with a new driver that didn’t know her or Lando had let her hope that she could pretend easily but Oscar wasn’t blind. The girl had immediately answered that her feelings would soon be old news because she had made a plan to be over Lando by the end of the 2024 season. 

Her so-called genius plan was simple: if she managed to find things to dislike in Lando, enough for her to have the ick, her feelings would certainly go away all at once. So this season, she was determined to pay attention to Lando’s every move and find negative things to say about it. Despite thinking that the plan was terrible and wasn’t going to work, Oscar knew he had to somehow warn Lando. He couldn’t break her trust by telling him so he had to convince Lando that he absolutely needed to make a move before somebody else did and stole y/n’s heart away. 

Oscar decided to start his master plan before they filmed a few challenges for McLaren’s youtube channel. Lando and him were hanging out in an empty meeting room, waiting for the shooting to start so it was the perfect opportunity to talk freely.

-“  I think Logan has a crush on someone at McLaren.” Oscar stated out of nowhere

-“ Why do you think that ?” 

-“ He’s always hanging around the garage. He says he’s there to see me but he doesn’t really talk to me when he’s here. He mostly talks to y/n. Actually, he only talks to her.”

-“ So you’re saying he’s interested in her ?” 

-“ I think so. We never really talked about this kind of thing but it looks like it.” Oscar lied, knowing he would have to warn the American about the lie he had just fed Lando

-“ Oh, okay.” Lando paused, toying with the hem of his sleeves “ Do you think she likes him back ?” 

-“ I don’t know if he’s her type but I don’t see why she wouldn’t. She’s always with me and Logan is too so that has to mean that she enjoys his company a little. Otherwise she wouldn’t hang out with us.” 

-“ Did she ever talk to you about her dating life and stuff ?” Lando asked, trying to look uninterested 

-“ Well, I know she’s pretty shy so she’s not one to make the first move, even if she likes a guy.”

-“ Yeah that sounds like her.” he smiled fondly, remembering how she had been her first days at McLaren, all soft spoken and keeping to herself, not wanting to bother anyone

-“ So, let’s say if somebody likes her, he better make a move soon because she’s not going to do it herself and also there’s other people who may be interested…” 

-“ What are you insinuating, Oscar ?”

-“ What do you think ?”

-“ I do not like y/n like that.” Lando argued

-“ So it wouldn’t bother you if I set them up on a date, then ?” Oscar said, pretending to take out his phone to text either of them

-“ Wait !” Lando exclaimed, grabbing Oscar’s wrist before letting go of it like he had been burnt “ Please, Oscar. Don’t do that.” 

-“ See ? I knew you weren’t dense.” 

-“ I’m not. I just don’t want to ruin our friendship or how comfortable she feels at work right now.” 

-“ That’s not going to happen and anyway you won’t know what she thinks until you actually ask her out.” 

-“ What if she says no ?” 

-“ What if she says yes ?” Oscar mimicked his friend with a knowing smile

-“ You’re so annoying.” Lando scoffed, rolling his eyes

-“ Does that mean you’re going to at least try to ask her out before giving up ?” 

-“ I’m going to think about it.” 

-“ No, that won’t cut it. You have to promise me you’ll try.” 

-“ I don’t owe you shit, Oscar. Why are you so persistent anyway ?” 

-“ I’m doing this in the name of love, mate. I just heard through the grapevine that she might like someone and from all the time I spend with her, I’m saying you should shoot your shot.” 

-“ What does that even mean ? Why are you being so cryptic ?” 

-“I can’t explicitly tell you because that would make me a bad friend but you have to trust me on that one. Just ask her out”

-“ Alright, I’ll do it. But don’t you dare pressure me or anything. If I’m doing this, I’m doing it on my own terms and that’s it.” Lando caved in, pointing his finger at the Australian’s face

-“ I’m so glad you said yes. I hope I at least get to be the godfather of one of your kids.” he laughed as Lando became bright red and slapped his shoulder

-“ So you’re going to tell Logan not to go for it ?” 

-“ I don’t need to.” 

-“ What ?”

-“ I don’t need to and you don’t have to worry about him.” 

-“ Oh my God. You lied !”

-“ It was for a greater cause so it’s okay, right ?” 

-“ Greater cause, my ass ! You just like to torture me.” 

-“ Maybe…” 

-“ I’m gonna–” Lando started before being cut off by someone calling them both to start filming, saving Oscar who just smirked and walked away.

He might have lied to have what he wanted but it wasn’t selfish if he just wanted his two friends to be happy so he didn’t feel too bad.

[bluewxrld07]

Hurt My Feelings (Ethan Edwards)

Warning(s): mutual pining, angst, cheating, making out, groping/touching

Ethan Edwards x femalebff!reader (there's also a little bit of Luke Hughes x reader oops ;) )

Summary: Based off of Tate McRae's song Hurt My Feelings :)

She wears your number, but I've got what you like

She's got you right now, but I'm still on your mind

The rink was cold. It always was. No matter how many times she's sat in one, whether it was for a tournament or for just one game, she still was cold no matter what.

She was wearing her UMich gear; supporting a hockey sweatshirt in the the familiar navy blue with yellow lettering underneath her jacket, a pair of grey jogger sweats with their team logo, a UMich hat, and a pair of UMich mittens made by the famous Edwards mother herself. A gift from her two birthdays ago after learning y/n would be attending the same college with Ethan.

Y/n found her seat in the third row opposite from the benches, wrapping her blanket around her legs as she sat. Once she was situated, she looked around the arena, watching as people piled into their seats. Some making their way down to the glass to watch the boys warmups up close.

That's when her eyes stopped and did a double take, following back to the familiar head of platinum blonde hair standing right behind the glass, standing directly across the rink from where y/n was sitting. She wore the oh so familiar home jersey with the number 73 on her back, with leather skinny jeans.

Her makeup looking a tad too overdone, a large sign sitting front of her and her friends with a thirst quote written out on it in big letters. The chomping of the girl's gum also being very noticeable. Y/n fought the urge to roll her eyes as she watched Ethan's girlfriend rave with her friends, probably bragging and talking about the boy himself.

Ethan was not someone who enjoyed signs with messages such as the one written on his girlfriend's board. Course the signs were fine when it was younger kids coming to watch, but he always said it looked desperate.

When y/n and him would lay outside talking about life, he always stated that he would want his future girlfriend to be the one sitting in the stands with his family. Not the one behind the glass with a cliche sign. Sure he didn't mind it when it came to fans, but when it was his girlfriend, it was a different story.

He wanted to be able to come out for warmups, search for her and smile when he did. Be able to look up at her every so often in between drills, waving, making gestures, mouthing something out to her, anything like that.

Y/n was lost in her thoughts when Ethan's mom's voice rung out happily. "Ugh I'm so glad you made it before me! I thought I was gonna be too late and we wouldn't get our usual spots." she jokes, a large smile on her face as she sat next to the college girl pulling her in for a bear hug.

She supported a homemade sweatshirt customized with her son's number and name on the sides of the sleeves, mittens with 73 on both of them as well as a UMich tie blanket.

"You know me, I like to be early thanks to always having parents fashionably late to everything," y/n chuckles as they pulled away from one another.

Ethan's mom gave her a look, knowing exactly what she meant. "Oh sweetheart trust me I know. Why do you think I always tell your parents an earlier time nowadays? So then they're actually on time to things."

"Yeah no kidding. I'm always the one stressing."

As the pair talked, the seats and the edges around the glass began to fill with students and fans. Before they knew it the music started to blare out, cheers increasing as the teams came out for warmups.

Y/n clapped alongside the elder woman, the pair still conversing as they watched the boys skate around the ice.

Y/n's eyes fell to the familiar head of brown hair poking out of the helmet he wore, watching as he shot into the net a few times. Not6 long after did her eyes find his girlfriend once again, seeing the girl bouncing up and down like a toddler and banging on the glass eyeing Ethan as he skated around.

She watched as her and her friends banged on the glass and shook the sign made, trying to get him to notice it.

"She's absolutely embarrassing." y/n hears next to her, looking over to Ethan's mom, whom has a disgusted look on her face while staring at the platinum head of hair across the rink.

"Not a fan of her?" she asks, watching the woman shake her head immediately.

"I tried giving her a chance. I truly did. But she is just not anywhere near his type. Or even respectful for that matter," she admits while shaking her head, finding her song back on the ice. "She got drunk at dinner with us the first time we met her. The second time we met her she got into an argument with my husband." Shay says.

Y/n stays silent and just chuckles lightly, focusing back to the boys on the ice.

Ethan peers up at the stands, scanning them before his eyes find her own. He smiles largely with a goofy smile and nods his head up as if saying 'what up'. Y/n feels her face heat up, butterflies in her stomach.

She nods back at him with a humored smile playing on her lips. His gaze falling to his mom next to her blowing her a kiss. She smiles warmly at her son and sends a million kisses back and cheers for him, watching his focus go back to drills.

Y/n wanted to take that and rub it in his girlfriends face, whom was still desperately trying to get his attention. Yet she was better than that, so she just stayed content in her seat as she watched the boys.

After a while, it was nearing the end of their warmups as her and the older woman had small talk about how school has been. They kept their eyes on the team in front of them, soon seeing Ethan skate up towards the glass on their side of the rink, eyeing y/n whom looked at him with a questioning expression.

He points towards the tunnel where they came from as if saying to meet him over there, her nodding immediately as she unwrapped herself from her cocoon.

She tells the woman next to her she will be right back, the woman shooing her off with a knowing smile.

Y/n makes her way down the steps towards the tunnel, feeling a certain blonde's eyes on her, making her try to hide a humored grin on her face. Ethan skates over slowly and greets some of the younger kids waiting by the entrance for the players.

She leans over the railing with a small smile on her face, watching as he makes his way towards her removing his helmet to look at her clearly.

He reaches his hand up as she re moves her mitten and reaches her own hand down, doing their little handshake together.

"You cold over there Rudolph?" he jokes, earning and eyeball from her.

"Yeah yeah, haven't heard that one before." she scoffs and he laughs at her expression.

"You want to meet the guys and I for dinner afterwards? We might hit up Bell's Diner," he says, and she immediately feels her insides warm.

He's asking her to join him. Not the blonde who was insanely upset on the other side of the rink. Her.

"Yeah I might be up for it." she shrugs, earning a smack to her hand that still hung with his.

I should've known better, you should've known better than me

"Ow, okay, ow, Ethan! Stop that hurts!" Y/n cries out with a laugh, the boy now sitting on her as she was laying on the couch, video game controller in his hands.

"No you stay here." he laughs.

She squeaks out and tries poking at his sides to get him off of her, watching as he twitches from her hands. "Ethan I have class in like fifteen minutes! I swear if you don't get off of me, I'm-"

"What? You're in no place to call the shots, you can't move," he jokes out looking down at her in amusement. Her arms fall other sides, looking up at him with a scowl, then crosses her arms over he chest.

Ethan laughs down at her before unpausing his game, y/n's mouth dropping offendedly. She begins to huff and puff dramatically, her head turning away from him as her sighs get louder each time her ignores her.

Once she sees that her dramatic sighs are not doing the trick, she conjures up a devilish grin.

It's a few moments of silence, but then before Ethan knows it, the girl underneath him begins screaming. He immediately jumps up in surprise from the loud yell she conjures up, the girl now scrambling off the couch and up the stairs to get her bag for class.

She hears his footsteps coming up the staircase as well as the calls of her name with some empty joking threats such as ones like 'I'm gonna throw you into the pool' or her favorite, 'I will force you to play in my spot the next home game'.

She's zipping up her jacket and throwing her backpack over her shoulder by the time her reaches her, an amused smile on both their lips.

"Ethan, no." she giggles, watching him stalk closer to her. She puts her arms out to keep him away. Her breathing getting heavy in between laughs as he gets closer.

She finds herself backing into a wall, completely screwed now as he now stands directly in front of her. His hands find her waist while his eyes are piercing down into her own, a devilish smile on his lips.

The closeness between them made her insides churn with excitement and nervousness, unsure of what was next to come.

"I wanted to spend time with you," he drags out, she rolls her eyes. "I don't see you much anymore."

"I was here yesterday."

"Okay but still, You get so busy with classes this time of year, and I have Hockey. So I don't see you a ton." he says, leaning his forehead on her own, giving her waist a squeeze.

She swallows lightly, her breathing becoming heavy as her heart. pounds in her chest. "I miss you." he mutters, his eyes finding hers.

Her eyes look into his, their faces so close now. Her heart was yelling at her to close the distance, but her mind kept screaming back and chanting girlfriend girlfriend girlfriend.

She watched him close his eyes, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

Y/n closed her eyes tight, taking a deep breath before place a hand on his chest and lightly pushing him back. "I've gotta go Eddy." she sighs, and walks away from him.

Ethan stayed in his spot, her scent still there, captivating as ever. Once he hears the front door close, his head drops back as he lets out a groan and rubs his hand on his face.

"Fuck"

I'm tryna tell myself I'm gonna stay away from you

I should've known better, you've got a way that's gonna weigh-weigh on me

It was New Years Eve, and of course the Hockey team was throwing a big party. They threw one every year. Y/n always helped plan them, per Rutger and his girlfriends pleas.

This year made it harder for her to say yes. She's been avoiding Ethan as much as she can, ignoring his texts and calls. Trying to distance herself from the need she had for him inside. She thought she was doing what was best for the both of them. Their want and need for one another was climbing. So she put a stop to it. At least is trying to.

The Hockey house was definitely bumping, the time being eleven o'clock. So close to ball drop. Y/n accepted that she would either end up kissing some random guy at midnight, or better yet, nobody at all.

Each year, she wished for Ethan to be that one she kissed. To feel his lips on her own. Yet it always ended up being nobody.

Of course Ethan knew she never had a new years kiss, so he would place his lips on her cheek after midnight and claim that that could count as her new years kiss.

She doubted she would get that now. After she had been avoiding him like the plague, stating she was so busy with classes and homework. Or that she was too sick to answer the phone sometimes.

She knew Ethan would see right through her each time though. Even if he wouldn't admit it, he knew her well enough to know her tell when lying.

So now here she stood while So High by Doja Cat played, next to Rutger in a game of beer pong against a couple of the Football boys, in a dress that she felt was too short. But was complimenting her figure so good per Rutger's girlfriend.

She was tipsy, but not drunk. She really didn't feel like throwing up tonight, better yet not having to deal with being hungover the next morning. It was enough of a buzz that she was able to feel at ease, and let loose for the night.

Rutger pulled her in for a hug as they cheered, her sinking the Football guys' last cup watching as they chugged it down.

Y/n a sip of her own drink, Rutger saying he was going to take a break and dance with his girlfriend, Y/n nodding and shooing him away to go be with her.

The girl made her way through the crowd after she finished making another drink, the crowd dancing as if in slow motion with the colored lights flashing around.

As she took a sip of her drink, she stopped in her tracks seeing the familiar boy she had been avoiding.

He was dancing up against his girlfriend, the girl basically grinding all over him as he kissed her neck. One hand gripping the underside of her breast while the other stayed glued lowly on her hip.

Y/n rolled her eyes, feeling the bile in her throat as she looked around the room to find someone. She thought it would be better to try getting over Ethan, by getting under someone else.

The crowd cheered as Rude Boy by Rihanna began to blare through the speakers, her lips turning up into a smirk. Y/n downed the rest of her drink and set her cup down on a nearby table, her eyes finding a familiar pair of blonde, curly hair.

"Hughes," she calls over the music, his head snapping over and down to her with a smile. "What's goin on little y/n/n?" he says back.

He was leaning against a doorway while talking another buddy of his, she held her hands out for him. "Come dance with me Luke," she challenges, his eyes scanning her figure as he bit his lip. Luke hands his cup to his buddy, immediately sliding his hands into her own, watching her lips move and sing along to the lyrics of the song.

They found a spot in the crowd, her eyes still locked on his. Sure Luke was attractive, everything about him was. Which is why she didn't mind how it felt dancing up close with him.

His hands slid away from hers, the girl turning around so her back was up against his chest while his hands found home on her hips.

Her hands slid up over her stomach, to her waist, over her own breasts before finally reaching behind her and sliding them into Luke's hair. The pair swayed together to the music as she sang along to the lyrics, Luke's head falling to the crook between her neck and collarbone.

Luke was tall, only a had a couple inches on Ethan, but still pretty tall nonetheless. His head fell over her collarbone fully, his lips finding a spot right on the bone that made her sigh deeply and grip his hair tightly.

Her eyes began to search in the crowd for the familiar brunette, stopping when she found him with his girlfriend still in their same position.

His eyes, though, staring into her own. Y/n knew she had him in a trance now. Her lips still singing along to the lyrics.

But that's when something else snapped in her. Her eyes leaving Ethan's and looking back down to the boy who was breathing heavily into her neck.

"Lu," she breathes, the boy humming and squeezing her hips as an answer. "I need you to help me out." she admits and he nods, his eyes finding hers for a second. He watches her eye dart towards the brunette and his own girl, Luke's eyes slowly fading over to Ethan and the blonde.

Luke's chin sat softly on her shoulder as they still danced against one another. The boys stared back at one another, Ethan's eyes looking into his best friend's with warning, as if daring Luke to test him.

Luke was always one to help stir the pot if it needed to be. Especially when he knew how both y/n and Ethan felt about each other, but danced around it for many reasons.

So of course when Ethan gave him those eyes, Luke's mind was more than happy to push his best bud past his limits.

Y/n's stayed on Luke's side profile while he stared at Ethan with a smirk blooming onto his face. As they swayed, the bridge to the song came in and Luke's hands began to move. One hand slithered its way to y/n's throat and gripped lightly, causing her to sigh at his touch.

The other hand slithered up too, but stopping on her left breast, squeezing and toying with it over her dress. The feeling of Luke's hands in the right spots made y/n's head rolled back onto his shoulder as she let out a sigh mixed with a breathless moan.

She knew Luke was still staring back at Ethan, who still held eye contact with him as well, Ethan's nostrils flaring.

Luke's eyes broke their stare a moment later, finding home on the soft spot in the crook of her neck he found earlier. Ethan watched y/n's chest heaving up and down as his best friend touched her and kissed her like that.

"Shit, Lu," she sighs into Luke's ear. She could feel him poke her backside as they ground against one another. "Who knew you knew what you were doing." she chuckles breathlessly, earning a hum from the curly headed boy.

"Gotta do what I gotta do to pull his head out of his ass, huh?" he says back to her, his head lifting up to stare back at her.

His hand left her throat, and began to slide down her waist, her hips, to her thighs, his hand moving towards her inner thigh and sliding back up slowly.

Her breathing was starting to become messy as he got closer to where she was dying to be touched. Whether it was Luke or Ethan, in which she hoped Ethan would be the one to do it, but wasn't complaining when Luke knew how to push her own buttons.

Before Luke could finally reach where she desperately needed it, she was snagged from his arms and thrown over a shoulder.

She looked back up to see Luke standing there, tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he saluted to her. She smirked at him in amusement, knowing exactly whose shoulder she was over.

Y/n was taken up the staircase and into the familiar brunette's room, the door shutting and locking behind them.

Ethan set y/n down on her feet once they were in his room, the girl’s eyebrows scrunched up in a frown. That frown changed when she saw his facial expression. 

She couldn’t pinpoint all the emotions running through his mind, but the ones she could see were anger, sadness, annoyance. 

Lust. 

His anger was what she could see the most running through his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. “Did you need something?” She retorts, testing the waters that were already running high. Ethan scoffs down at her, his arms being thrown up in anger at her. “You’re fucking with me right?” He snaps, making her shake her head at his tone. 

“I’m not doing this,” she chuckles bitterly, trying to walk past him but he grabs her arm. “Of course you won’t. You haven’t wanted to in weeks! I don’t hear shit from you, and the next thing I know I'm watching both of my best friends all up on one another? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Y/n lets her tongue run over her teeth, not daring to make eye contact with him. She might’ve been buzzed, but she was not drunk. She was sober enough to be aware of her surroundings, but so aware of them that she was holding back her actions. Because liquid courage was surely a thing right now, and she could not hold back much longer. 

“Hello? You gonna answer me y/n/n?” He says in a short tone, making her snap out of her trance. 

She could hear Rutger’s voice downstairs saying fifteen seconds till midnight, y/n really wanting to get out of there before she couldn’t control herself anymore. 

All these feelings have been building up, her avoiding him not helping her case. Actually made it worse, because of the way her body and mind craved his presence and touch. 

“I can’t right now, Ethan.” She musters out, not making eye contact as she says it. Ethan frowns at her, confusion setting in. “Do what?” He asks. She shakes her head at him, the boy watching as she swallows hard, her chest heaving. 

“Ethan,” she says, her tone was one he had only a few times. It was a warning tone. She still wasn’t looking at him in the eyes. The sound of everyone downstairs counting down till midnight and the music blaring being heard. “You should really get down there,” she says and motions to the door. “Your girl will be wondering where you are at midnight.”  

Ethan storms up to her, annoyed that she won’t even acknowledge him or look at him. 

“Look at me,” he says, his tone stern as he grabs her jaw softly but enough to force her to look at him. Her eyes catch his, he sees that she’s got a certain emotion running through them. 

“What’s going on, y/n?” He mutters to her softly this time. "Why won't you talk to me? What did I do?" he pushes, watching as the gears turn in her mind.

He watches her lip quiver, soon biting it to hide the way it shook. It shouldn't have made him feel a way, but it did. He wanted to be the one biting that lip. Let alone taking away the pain he could see in her eyes.

Y/n rolls her eyes as the crowd yells out ‘one’ followed by a ‘happy new year’. She looks back at him, still staying silent. He says her name one last time sternly. 

“Y/n.” 

“Goddammit Eddy.” she snaps before her hand wraps around his neck, pulling him in for his lips to finally slam onto her own. 

He didn’t take any time to process what was going on, just instantly kissing her back with just as much passion as she did. His hand going to both sides of her head, their lips moving in sync. 

The way his lips felt on hers was nothing like she's ever imagined. They felt like they belonged on her own. What caught her off guard the most, was the fact that he didn't even hesitate to kiss her back.

That's when she realized he felt the same way she did. The attraction was there.

His tongue grazed hers, making his hand slide down and grip her backside. When her mouth opened in a gasp, he slid his tongue inside to let it massage hers.

Her soft moans were like music to his ears, his hands roaming anywhere and everywhere. He wanted to hear them over and over again. It was him making her make those noises. Not Luke. His lips left her own and trailed down her neck, stopping on the same spot that Luke's had once been on. Y/n didn't think it could feel any better, but Ethan made it feel insatiable.

Her hands ran through his hair as his hands roamed wherever they could reach, her gasps and breathless moans going into his broad shoulder. But as he kissed along her entire chest, her conscience came creeping in.

"Ethan," she sighs, the boy's hands raising the hem of her dress slightly, gripping her thighs trying to get her as close as he could in that moment. All that was on his mind was her. She tried his name once again, the brunette still not answering her as he searched for her lips to shush her.

"Ethan hold on," she says in between their kisses. He whimpers in her mouth, making her feel so incredibly weak. She wanted to cave so bad. Wanted to give him all of her. Let him have his way with her, and her with him.

But she couldn't. She couldn't do that.

"Your girlfriend, Eddy." she mutters as she pulls away, putting her hand on his chest. They're both breathless, Ethan going in one last time, teeth going down to drag out her bottom lip which earned a moan from her mouth.

He takes a moment with her, chests heaving against one another.

"You stay here," he whispers, his hands coming up to squeeze her waist.

She just hums with a slight nod. "I'll be back." he says, placing one last kiss on her lips, leaving her in the middle of his room in a disheveled state.

He didn't return that night.

She's where you're waking up, she's got you making up such pretty boy excuses

Oh but I know one thing, she can't stop it happening in my mind

It had been two weeks since the New Years incident. Two weeks since y/n and Ethan had shared that moment in his room. Two weeks since he left you there, only to not return.

He had been the one avoiding her now. But in this case, not under his own choices.

Every time y/n showed up to the Hockey house, she was there. Every time y/n went to a home game, she was sitting in your spot, going to see him at the tunnel instead of y/n.

When she'd text him to meet, he'd say the same things.

E :)

I can't today, I'm trying to focus. I've got a lot going on rn.

E :)

I wish I could, but I've got some stuff going on with the boys.

E :)

I would say yes, but the gf and I have plans tonight!

She knew it wasn't him making the choices, or sending those texts. He always dropped whatever he was doing to see y/n, to be with her.

The boys would've invited her to come with for one, and for two she had planned on seeing some of the guys that night. So y/n knew it was a lie from him.

The classes y/n had with Ethan and the boys was what made it more obvious. He always made up an excuse as to why his girlfriend needed him to sit with her. Or she would already be sitting in y/n's spot, so she'd find somewhere in the back to sit.

Y/n's heart began to ache. She knew deep down that it wouldn't have just happened so easily between them two, and that she couldn't stop him from making that choice. It just hurt because she should've composed herself better that night, then maybe they would've turned out being back to normal at this point.

Y/n sat in the library with Rutger's girlfriend, the pair doing homework in one of the study hall rooms. Y/n had been zoned out, her eyes locked on Ethan and his girlfriend, whom sat outside in the main study hall area talking all happily with one another.

It should be her he is sat with. Them two laughing at some stupid joke Ethan tried making about classes or the assignment at hand. It should've been her getting the quick kisses stolen in between work.

"You really need to get better at hiding your emotions, y/n/n," Rutger's girlfriend says.

Y/n snapping out of her trance and looking up at the girl whom had the whiteboard marker in one hand, the other on her hip with an unfazed look on her face.

"What emotion? I'm fine." Y/n says, her tone squeaky and uneven.

"Yeah and I'm a hockey wag," the blonde girl jokes, making y/n shrug.

"Technically speaking, you are. Unofficially," she pushes, nearly dodging the marker thrown her way.

"Not the point!" the girl laughs, y/n smiling at her comment.

She comes and sits next to y/n, sighing as she sees what her friend was witnessing. Then turns back to look at her a few moments later.

"What happened on New Years?" she asked, watching her friend pale and look at her lap.

"You cannot say a word," y/n says. "I won't-"

"Not even to Rutger."

"Damn that bad huh?"

Y/n nods. "We kind of sort of," she trails off. "madeoutinhisroomandIhadtobetheonetostopitfromgoingfurther"

The blonde looked at her like she had two heads. "I cannot decipher your fast speaking tone, so slow it down for me thank you."

Y/n sighs. "We made out in his room, and I was the one who had to try and stop it. Because if I didn't, we would've kept going." she admits, watching her friends eyes light up.

"I was wondering why he looked so dazed and why his lips were swollen when he came back." she says in a knowing manner.

"Seriously, you cannot say a word! He didn't even come back to me that night, so it means nothing." y/n says as she closes her books, packing up her stuff.

"Girl, he didn't come back because his girlfriend knew something was up."

"I kind of figured with how she's been about me lately."

"Yeah trust me, everyone has noticed." y/n threw the whiteboard marker back at her friend who laughed.

"Don't stress about it seriously. She is just jealous of what you guys have," she explains as they begin to leave the room. "I'm not one to be for cheating, trust me. But with how she treats all of us behind the scenes, I'd say your secret would be safe with me."

Y/n shook her head, her eyes finding Ethan once again. "Yeah well," He must've felt someone staring because his eyes look up from the platinum blonde girl next to him, smile dropping when he finds the familiar girl's stare.

"He can count his day because he's breaking my heart doing it." The two girls then walk away, Y/n's eyes leaving Ethan's.

His eyes following her still as she left the hall.

She's got you right now, but I'm still on your mind

[lastgreatamericanlyricist]

the house of snow | coriolanus snow | @starryevermore royal au series...unfinished, but has me on the literal edge of my seat at the end of every chapter. PHENOMENAL writing style! has such a way of creating unexpected tension between coriolanus and reader. you have me sobbing with this story and hands down my favorite of the month!

it don't need your loving, it just needs attention | coriolanus snow | @casualhedonists post book/film series...completed. the tension between the reader and coriolanus is impeccable. and the smut...*bangs table*...got my heart stopping. WELL DONE!

losing your memory | coriolanus snow | @kasagia post book/film mini-series...completed (i think). again, the tension between the two is chefs kiss. they way that lingering feelings are conveyed in the both of them through unexpected ways has me shaking.

gone | billy the kid | @whitehotforeva one shot...for your first fic...*thunderous round of applause*...has me getting teary eyed. he's so tragic about leaving the reader and I love it.

wherever you go | billy the kid | @tomblythismyhusband one shot...this was so cute and fluffy and it just made my heart melt. billys character always has a way of being selfless even when he can't help it.

this blurb | billy the kid | @spideyhexx blurb...unleashed something in me that I didn't even know was there. love the way that the dialogue is written, even in the small pieces.

you are in love | tom blyth | @robinbuckleysfringe social media au series...unfinished, (maybe). i've never done a social media series, but this fic makes me want to. the storyline is well organized and the comments on the posts are so cute.

[penkura]

hey! how are you?

hope you're doing well :)

I wanted to ask, If you could pretty please write a one shot about Sanji and reader, I'm watching the Zou arc now, and I really want to know how it would be If reader was with him in the moment he finds out about the marriage and leaves the note, she would cry and beg him to stay or something, you can decide If they were already in a relantionship or not.

Anyway feel free to ignore it if you don't want, and take care of yourself <3

PS: sorry If something got wrong, english it's not my first language.

Omg the Zou arc, pain with Sanji geez. I'm so happy for this request tho, I've not written this scenario before! I had an idea for their relationship as soon as I read your message too, so I hope this is what you were looking for! I kept it open for a part two if you'd like later on as well! I hope you enjoy it!

You and Sanji had been close ever since Luffy recruited you shortly after him. Something about the blond had just drawn you in and he was glad to entertain you and spend his free time with you. Even when you’d sit and watch him cook in total silence, Sanji welcomed it, he was happy to have company and someone to listen when he started talking out loud about what steps were next. You learned his most common dishes so well that you were able to rattle off the directions yourself, causing Sanji to become smitten with you quickly.

You’d fallen in the same way, after spending time with and getting to know Sanji. Despite his perverted tendencies at times, you found yourself drawn to and falling completely head over heels for your crew’s chef. He kept somethings about his life before meeting Zeff from you, the most you knew was that he was one of five children and from the North Blue, you didn’t dare pry too much farther. You didn’t want to push him away and ruin the friendship you’d built with him, especially once you realized your feeling for Sanji were more than just friendly.

Not like you’ll ever tell him, if you have it your way. You weren’t going to make things difficult for not only you and Sanji but your whole crew too. You’ve become content to just admire and pine after him, no matter how many times Nami tells you to just say something to him about your feelings, you refuse to do so. You won’t make things awkward, not when everyone is focused on their goals and now looking towards taking down an Emperor of the Sea in Kaido.

“The main event is a wedding,” Bege takes out an invitation and opens it for Sanji to see, “Between the third son of the Vinsmoke family and the 35th daughter of the Charlotte family, Pudding.”

You were content until this new development. A tea party invitation and requirement from Big Mom, a wedding to a girl he’s never met, the last name he’s never once told you about. You just believed he didn’t have one, like Nami or Usopp, it didn’t matter to you if he did or didn’t. He’s Sanji, he’s not this Vinsmoke Sanji. Your mind is reeling as he flat out refuses the invitation, while your crewmates shout their disbelief at this situation, you can’t even seem to join them. Everything moves so fast, the next thing you know, one of Bege’s crew members has whispered something to Sanji that’s got him going rigid, being getting a pen and piece of paper to write something down. You don’t even notice fully that he’s taken and ripped a piece off it, ignoring the looks he gets from the others around, wondering what he’s doing.

While Sanji slips the note he’s written to Nami, you try so hard to finally speak but the words won’t come out. He can’t leave, he just can’t! He’s so important to your crew, to Luffy, to you, Sanji can’t just go off and marry some random girl he’s never met! It’s not fair, even though you’ve never made your feelings known to him, you have no claim on Sanji. You’re able to get back into focus as he speaks to you all again when he hugs you.

“Please know, I never meant to keep anything from any of you.” He grips your shoulder just a bit tighter than he has before, and that’s what finally gets you to speak.

“Sanji, wait! You…you can’t go! I…I lo—”

He stops you with a smile and placing his hand on your head, nodding just a bit. “I know…but don’t worry, I’ll come back…and then we can talk, okay?”

You don’t believe him, even as he forces the four of you out of Bege’s castle, giving everyone a smile and promising to be back later. He’s never lied to you before, why shouldn’t you believe him? You have every intention of running after Bege as he goes to escape, but Nami reminds you that it’ll be pretty hard to do anything when you’re still chained up like the rest of them. Even after the Minks free you, you want to go after them, but she stops you again, with a hug that finally makes you start to cry over not being able to stop him.

At least, until you feel the scratch of paper on your shoulder and realize that’s what he was doing, when Sanji gripped your shoulder tighter. He was slipping you a note separate from everyone, now you can take it and see what he was telling you that he kept from everyone else. You don’t read it until you’re back to the room you and Nami are sharing thanks to the Minks, and all it does is make your heart ache and feel like you should’ve done more, because now you truly don’t believe he’s coming back.

No matter what happens next, I love you. I’ll tell you in person when I come back.

You’re going to help Luffy get him back, your mind and heart are decided.

[lowkeyremi]

Haikyuu men as fathers :D

Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4

FT. Hinata, Bokuto, Suna, and Kenma. (If you guys want other characters lmk, i'm just not in the mood to do a bunch rn)

SO I JUST READ LIKE THE CUTEST HAIKYUU FATHERHOOD ONE SHOT AND NOW I WANNA DO HAIKYUU CHARACTERS AS DADS, HEAD CANONS (More of the earlier stages of fatherhood, when they first experience it)

This is the first thing I've written on tumblr pls spare me...

Warnings: Indication of relationships and marriage and some angst (mentions of abortion) for a few characters (just put that there just in case) Enjoy lovelies <33

Also sorry for any typos or grammar errors. I'm too lazy to reread through it and check lol.

...

Hinata Shoyo:

He was quite surprised at the announcement of your pregnancy that he passed out

He was soooo excited none the less, being a father sounded pretty fun

He definitely started reading books to try to help him figure things out

He was a terrible diaper changer (like no fucking joke, I think he'd be scared to change another one), he'd seen you do it so many times but for some reason he could never avoid getting peed on

Would brag to everyone about how cute his little baby is, "My baby just got their first tooth, and they're learning how to crawl! They've also got the cutest little chubby cheeks."

If the baby looks like you he would literally talk about it all the time. "Beautiful, just like your mama."

He's had experience with babies because well... Natsu <3

He got the baby a matching jersey so you two could watch his games :)

Bokuto Kotaro:

After finding out you were pregnant he would tell EVERYBODY The two of you were walking together to get ramen and you guys walked into the restaurant and got seats. The waiter came to you two and asked what'd you like to drink. "Hey, guess what? My wife is pregnant! Isn't that amazing?! We're gonna have a baby!" You had to hide your face from embarrassment but the waiter just giggled, Bokuto is def a himbo, your himbo.

He enjoyed decorating the room for your baby

He would dead ass miss practice to go to your appointments for the baby

The first time he held your little bundle of joy he cried like a damn baby, he couldn't help it. It made him so happy that the two of you brought a life into the world.

He didn't let Kenma hold your child for awhile because he was scared he'd drop the baby :')

Very protective of your little one

He wanted the baby's first word to be "Volleyball" but it was "da da" which still made him very happy

Bo is very proud of the baby you two have created so I'm 100% sure he takes a bunch of himself with the baby to post on his social media

He was scared to change diapers but he soon got the hang of it

100% would get up in the middle of the night when the baby is crying, just to let you sleep. "The baby." You sigh loudly as you hear your little one cry over the baby monitor. "I'll go check on them. You get some rest." You turn your head to face him, "You sure?" He just smiled at you and kissed your temple. "100%"

Suna Rintaro: (ofwhuowghwoqrwq do i need to say anything else?)

He thought you were joking when you said you were pregnant (oops) "That's a good one." He turned his attention back to his phone. "Rin... I'm serious. Do you wanna see the ultrasound?"

A little more on the hesitant side. He didn't want to believe it, but you had the proof so like...

He was low key scared to fuck up, his father was not a very good father so he was scared to be the same way his father was.

He didn't even hold the baby for the first few months. "Rin, come on. You aren't your father. You have me to guide you through the process. Come hold our little one." He stalked up the stairs, "no."

After awhile you finally convinced him to have physical contact with the baby "The baby.. i-is smiling at me?" You giggle at him, "of course they're smiling at you. They love their daddy of course."

After he finally started being around the baby, you literally could not tear him away from that child.

Some days he'd take the baby to practice, to the grocery store, everywhere.

You had to pry the child from his arms most days. "Rin, give the baby here.." He looked at you like you just told him to give away his prized possession. "Hell no." You sighed. "Rin you have to go to work!" He shrugged his shoulders, "the baby can come with me, Komori enjoys taking pics of them during practice." Jeez.. this man truly is something.

Overall he was scared for nothing. He was a great father ;)

Somehow he convinced you to have another one... (weren't you the same one who didn't hold your baby for months?) he wanted to make up for the few firsts that he missed

Kozume Kenma: (oh Lord)

He asked "Are you sure it's mine?" (yeah... virtual slap rn)

He told you he wasn't ready and asked if you'd consider an abortion or adoption, it made you really sad but you realized Kenma wasn't ready

It really hurt him to hear you cry about giving up your child which made him wanna try for you

Did not know how to hold the baby for the life of him "Umm.. am I like- holding it right..?" You burst into laughter at the sight. "Ken, you gotta support their head." He looked down at his baby. "Oh..."

He decided that he needed to do research before he ventured further down the path of fatherhood.

Kenma was confused with diapers. "You... you want me to change its diaper?" You scoffed at him handing him a fresh diaper. "Our baby is not an 'it' Kenma!" He groaned as he took the diaper from you. "Why can't you change it?" You rolled your eyes as if it was obvious. "Because I won't always be there to do it myself, duh."

You were out with a friend one day which meant Kenma was on babysitting duty, he was tempted to call Kuro to come watch his child but he'd say something like, "Kenma, it's your responsibility as a father, blah blah blah.." So he and the baby just kind of sat there staring at each other. "What do you wanna do?" He asked the baby, knowing they can't talk. The baby proceeded to poke Kenma's cheek and yell out, "DA DA DA DA." Kenma thought it was cute and laughed softly. "Yep, that's me." The baby repeated saying 'da' for awhile until they tired themselves out. "You're a lot like me." That day it clicked, he finally understood what it was to be a father

He wasn't very affectionate but he tried to show his baby that he cared the best way he knew how

You saw the changes and it made you happy

You caught him cuddling the baby once, when you accused him of being affectionate he rolled his eyes half awake and said, "M'not being affectionate! Go awayyyy."

Doesn't want to admit to being soft for his baby :)

That's a wrap! If you want more characters lmk! I'd be happy to do a part two, this was fun for me :)

[erisweekofficial]

We're thrilled to shine a light on @zenkindoflove!!! Amanda is an absolute gem in the Elucien fandom AND Eris fandom and has also blessed us with Alexius, her incredible OC for her Eris x OC fics.

Alexius stands out as one of the few male OCs in the community, and the dynamic between him and Eris is nothing short of captivating. Think forced proximity, delicious yearning, witty banter, political intrigue, and all the tension you could dream of. You can see them in both Summer Heat (which has Elucien) and Pull Me in Deeper, which... y'all you gotta read this asap😍🤭🥵 Also the mods are begging you to read Taste of You, a short and delightfully smutty one shot.

And PLEASE admire this amazing art of Alexius and Eris!

Read more to learn about how @zenkindoflove was inspired to create content about Eris AND her extremely helpful tips for writing content about him. (We're taking notes)

What inspired you to start creating content about Eris?  I became curious about writing Eris after he was featured in some of my Elucien fics. When I started my multichapter Elucien fic Summer Heat, I decided that I would give him a male love interest in that fic and create an OC - which ended up being Alexius who you see featured in all of my Eris work. I originally intended for it to be a background relationship, but I decided to experiment and write the scene of their first meeting (a very smutty scene) just to do some character exploration. I didn’t intend to include it in the fic, but then once I wrote it, I knew that it was something special and Eris x Alexius became a true B storyline in that fic with a fully fleshed out love story. After that, I wanted to expand and write fics that focused on them which I've written several now and more to come for Eris Week! It's a bit niche. Hardly anyone writes Eris x Male OC but I'm obsessed now.

What's your favorite piece you've created featuring Eris and why? 

That would be my Eris x Alexius multichapter fic - Pull Me in Deeper. I love it because it was a way for me to explore Eris’ character when he is out of the watchful eye of his father and others in Prythian. It’s also just a fun action/adventure/romance story and I got to explore more lore and character building for my OC Alexius as well. Alexius was designed to be, in my opinion, the perfect person for Eris and that means often standing in contrast to a lot of his personality traits and pushing him outside of his comfort zone. So it was an incredibly fun dynamic to explore. And it’s two gay men who are on a quest to find out (*spoilers*) if unicorns exist XD.

How do you approach writing dialogue for Eris? 

I tend to lean into Eris being more careful with his words - so he is sharp, concise, and efficient in his word choice. Depending on who he’s sharing a scene with and the context, he can be severe and short or he can be long-winded and eloquent. And of course, he has banter and jabs a plenty. So I try to balance all those sides of him depending on the context.

Do you have any advice for other creators wanting to make Eris content? 

Eris inhabits a unique space in canon where he is truly a free agent when it comes to relationships. So, I would recommend if you want to write romances with Eris to lean into self-indulgence and write the pairing/story you really want to tell and try to let go of what you think will be popular. And if that ends up being Eris x OC rather than a canon character, know that it can actually be such a rewarding experience even if you don’t have a built in audience. Creating an OC to pair with Eris has been immensely fun and has broadened my creativity. Eris is a complex, interesting character with so many layers and building someone to fit him and find out what is underneath all of those layers can lead you down quite an obsessive path. But a fun one. 

Please give us a name for one of Eris’s Brothers

Kian. He is the third oldest and is more of a scholarly type. Now that second brother Conan is dead, he is next in line after Eris.

Please give us a name for one of Eris's Dogs.

Lithia. She just had puppies in PMID and Eris is worried about her. 

[sacchiri]

I recently bought the jp volumes of Hellsing along with the guidebook, and since I'm reading the series in its native language for the first time I might as well share some random things that stood out to me in no particular order.

This isn't meant to be an analysis of translation differences, I'm too lazy for that. Also it's been 12 years since I've watched the anime and read the low quality fan scans of the manga so some of these comments are just "Lol, forgot this was a thing"

Volume 1

... I really want to know who this guy is at the beginning, yelling at Alucard in overly familiar language to "Get your shit together!" and "You're the only one we can count on!!". We know from the style of speech that it's a dude, probably just some Hellsing rando, and maybe it's not all that strange since he has probably been working with the same soldiers for years--but it's still funny.

"I know, it's just so nice out :("

..The way "HELLSING Organization" is spelled out like this reminds me that apparently the name is supposed to be an acronym. No really.

...

God they're so silly.

Now that I think about it, the only thing Seras has done this chapter since being turned into a vampire is say "I'm sorry" over and over.... girl you got shot in the lung, why are you apologizing

Not a huge difference, but what Integra actually says here is "Leaving a corpse here for 20 years... You're a terrible person too, Father" and not "What were you thinking, Father?" as the Dark Horse translation suggests (note the lack of question mark in the raw version). I thought that might be of interest to some.

Something else I thought was interesting is the first line Alucard ever says to Integra, and how uncharacteristically polite he sounds.

O-kega wa gozaimasenka- That's two honorific 御's back to back! (He even said them in kanji, even Walter isn’t that straightlaced and he’s literally the butler.) This is also the only time Alucard uses this overly flowery gentlemanly language with her, and good thing too because it would be so annoying if he spent the whole manga ending his sentences with ~gozaimasu.

What I'm trying to get at is, after seeing this sentence in the Japanese version, I'm like 100% sure he actually heard her when she was mumbling to herself about hoping to find a knight in shining armor, and he was totally going the extra mile in playing into that role for their first encounter. Which is kind of sweet.

Lol they misspelled Alucard on the top left... or rather, they incorrectly spelled it right?

One would normally expect Alucard to be written アルカード, and indeed pixiv dict lists アーカード as a misspelling (the u sound is weak in Japanese, so it's easy to mishear arukādo as ākādo). Hirano was definitely aware of the correct spelling though, since he used it in the pilot chapter and in his old character sheets. It was only when the manga officially began that he switched to the アーカード spelling. I doubt it was because of copyright issues because there is already a long precedent of vampire characters named アルカード in various old manga, OVA, and games in Japan that have coexisted without issue (like this guy Hirano mentions in volume 1's afterword).

Most likely Hirano simply thought it looked better, or was a means of differentiating his character from the others somehow. It certainly makes life easier for Japanese fans searching for fanart since アーカード is only going to bring up Hellsing and not the Castlevania character.

Jan Valentine even pokes fun at the spelling discrepancy later in volume 2, but since there wasn't a good way of expressing this in English it was left untranslated.

(Speaking of spelling inconsistencies, there's a lot of minor details I'm noticing now, like half the time the furigana for 吸血鬼 is written バンパイア and the other half it's ヴァンパイア... anyway)

Um, just noticed literally everyone's wearing glasses What should I do

Hirano's habit of jotting random comments underneath his panels is one of the underrated perks of reading the manga

The Dark Horse translation almost makes it sound like she's looking forward to seeing this battle play out, while in the Japanese she simply sounds apprehensive. Almost as if she's worried about them? And she's going out on the field personally to make sure nothing bad happens? Aww

Ok this is a weird tangent, but I just noticed the scans of the Dark Horse version I've been looking at use a slightly larger image range than the Japanese version does. It was only noticeable when I got to this part:

The second image is what the Japanese version of the scan looks like and I can confirm that this is what it looks like in my physical volume as well. You shouldn't be seeing the messy borders of the inking on the bottom like that.

Manga manuscripts are set up so that there are a few millimeters of bleed border around each page. You're supposed to color and line all the way up to (4) while keeping in mind that printing and paper cutting may result in the image being trimmed up to (3).

Either Hirano didn't color his lines all the way to (4) (this man has been drawing manga for years but this is Hirano we're talking about so it's very possible), or Dark Horse didn't honor the original bleed borders of the manuscript. I'm kind of leaning towards the former since there was a Hellsing exhibit in Japan a few years back where you could look at Hirano's original manuscripts and there's one where you can clearly see that he spilled a mug of tea or coffee across the entire page

Anyway, it's weird, and I'm curious to see if someone that owns a physical copy in English can confirm whether theirs actually looks like that. It's volume 1, page 141.

[starchaserdreams]

My fics on AO3

Alright, so I deleted my AO3 account a few months ago (thinking I was done with this) and orphaned all of my works. Well, now I deeply regret that. But I have collected as many of them as I could find here for anyone who's interested.

Jegulus/Starchaser

Temptation Eyes (Now Complete!) - My Jegulus Regency AU. Completed, being posted one chapter twice a week. James enters the London season hoping to find a wife. What he finds instead is Regulus Black, and he never looks back. But as implied by the era, it won't be easy for them. Background wolfstar, shown as a different approach to a queer relationship in the regency era.

Get Regulus Out - 82k, Rated M, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Working Through Trauma, No War/Riddle AU, background Wolfstar, background Marylily. James tries to convince Regulus to leave Grimmauld Place as Sirius once did, and save himself from his parents.

How to Spot Signs of Jealousy - 4k, fake/pretend relationship, mutual pining, miscommunication. After Regulus gets fed up with people asking him out because of his family name, he and Barty agree to fake date. For some reason, James Potter seems livid...and Regulus can only guess that it's because he's homophobic. That's got to be it, right?

But Where's Regulus - 1k. James on laughing gas after getting his wisdom teeth taken out and talking about how much he likes Regulus

Waking Up Slowly - 2k. James wakes up in bed with Regulus in the Gryffindor dorm, something Sirius might not take kindly to.

I've Read Your Book - 1k. Two one shots based on the same premise: Writer!James didn't even know Regulus knew about his book, let alone had read it, but Regulus comes up to him and says "I've read your book" aka the most exciting words of all time to start a conversation for a writer.

Little Ball of Fire - 1k. Regulus gets into an argument with Snape. Regulus begins threatening him, so James picks Regulus up and carries/drags him out of the room before anyone gets hurt.

Prongsfoot/Bambibelle

What's in a Name - 5k, Soulmates AU, secret crush. In a world where soulmates exist and can identify each other by the feeling they get when they say each other's names, it's pretty easy to identify who your soulmate is. But for Sirius and James who only call each other by their nicknames, it takes a while to finally know.

The Bachelorette - 15k, mutual pining, Bachelorette AU. Sirius and James are both cast as contestants on the Bachelorette. Although their stated goal was to woo Lily and capture her heart, they don’t quite manage it. They fall for each other instead.

A Real Marriage Under Wizarding Law - 6k, mutual pining, fake/pretend relationship, drunken shenanigans. Sirius and James get a quickie drunken marriage in Knockturn Alley. When they wake up in the morning, they decide not to get it annulled so that they can save Sirius from an arranged marriage.

The Only Transfer Students to Ever Come to Hogwarts - 9k, arranged marriage, hijinx, angst with a happy ending. Sirius is upset to learn that not only does he have to transfer to a new school, but his parents have set up an arranged marriage for him. James assures him that's impossible, but Sirius knows his parents don't make empty threats. (Written for Prongsfoot Bingo)

The Smell of Water - 4k, Amortentia, idiots in love. Sirius and James argue about what they're smelling without realizing that there's Amortentia in the room. When Sirius realizes, he becomes a whole mess about it. (Written for Prongsfoot Bingo)

Wolfstar

Wolfstar Microfics Theme: Love - 8k, a collection of 22 microfics themed around love

6x James Found Out, and 1x Harry Did - 10k. Six ways James could have learned about Sirius and Remus' secret relationship, and one way Harry could have learned about it. *This is specifically ATYD fanfiction, and it's set in that universe.

[therandomficwriter]

Crossing All The Lines

Who: Aaron Hotchner

What: Reader has feelings for Aaron and dances around them with quick glances when you think he’s not looking. Then reader gets hurt and accidentally confesses in the heat of the moment.

Request: Nope

Warnings: Typical canon criminal minds violence, talks of getting shot, blood, Slight age gap but otherwise age isn’t mentioned, etc. (Let me know if I missed anything!)

A/n: I know its been forever since I've written anything but I’m back into my criminal minds binge and currently have Hotch brain rot so yeah,,, n e ways please feel free to enjoy! A/n 2: Ngl I've been working on this one since June of 2023 and barely finished it now (Feb. 2024) so this was a loooooong wip but besides that i really hope you guys like it!

You guys have been going at it for hours now. The sun had set long ago and many of the officers have gone home, the new shift well settled into their stations.

Despite the amount of time you and the team had spent trying to get to the bottom of the unsub’s reasoning, which would bring you guys one step closer to finding out who it might be, you are no closer to figuring it out now than this morning.

Reid is going off on another one of his tangents and you are trying desperately to pay attention and keep your mind from wandering, the late hour not helping you much.

Everyone is in a different form of concentration but, none the less, in a similar state of exhaustion. Morgan is slouched in his chair, head in his hand, Rossi on his fourth, maybe fifth, cup of coffee, but there’s one person you can’t help but let your eyes wander towards.

Hotch stands at the head of the table, arms crossed on his chest, tiredness prominent in his features. Your eyes follow him as he moves across the room, removing his suit jacket and discarding it onto a chair. Moving back to his original spot, he rolls his sleeves slightly up to rest upon his forearms, then loosens his tie ever so slightly.

He leans over the table and opens his mouth to begin talking but, if you are being honest, not a single word is heard by you. Your eyes stay glued to his arm, his muscles flexing slightly from the way he is gripping the edge of the table.

You try to pay attention, really you do, but it is no use. Your sleep deprived brain is not allowing you to focus on anything but the man in front of you. If you are being honest, you have grown feelings for him but you don’t dare act on them. I mean how can you blame yourself? There is just so much you admire about him, you can possibly go on for hours just listing off the reasons.

As your mind seems to drift off, you don’t seem to notice Hotch has caught on to what you were doing.

Feeling eyes on him, he glances around the room and soon catches your eye. Upon meeting his eyes, yours slightly widen and you quickly look down, willing your face to not heat up at being caught with your shameless stares. You swear at yourself thinking if he brings it up you’d blame it on the late hour and lack of proper sleep.

Unknown to you Hotch’s lips quirk up, amused at your reaction to being caught, chuckling softly to himself. He looks around the room once again, taking note of the tired faces of his team and decides to speak up.

“All right team, let’s call it a night. We’ll pick this back up in the morning when we’re all rested. Maybe then we will be able to think about this more clearly.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, the team quickly gathers their belongings and heads out of the station towards their shared vehicles.

The ride back to the hotel was uneventful as everyone split off into groups between the two SUVs. You opted to ride with Hotch and Rossi taking advantage of their silent personas, definitely not because you favored the first of the two.

Taking your place behind the passenger seat, you quickly got as comfortable as possible on your way back to the hotel. Usually you would try to fill in the silence with different topics varying from the case you guys were currently investigating to what book you were reading at the moment, but right now you could barely form coherent sentences with your sleep deprived mind.

You could feel yourself slowly drifting off, the smooth ride and the sound of the car moving along the street help bring you into a deep slumber.

Unbeknownst to you a pair of eyes traveled across your sleeping form, glancing back and forth between you and the road. A small sigh escapes his mouth as he notices your breathing even out.

Hearing someone clear their throat, Hotch casts his eyes toward the passenger seat where Rossi is sitting with a knowing look on his face. His eyes turn back to the road.

"Dave..." he says quietly, tone coming out as a warning.

Rossi raises his hands in defense, keeping his voice down as well "I didn't say anything."

"I know that look. You have something you want to say," Hotch mutters, face annoyed.

"Aaron in know that look on your face. How long are you planning on keeping her in the dark? You deserve to be happy and I can tell she is the reason your mood has improved a lot lately," Rossi keeps his voice low as to not wake you up.

Hotch moves his eyes towards you one more time, taking in your features, he notices the slightest content smile on your face not having a worry in the world while sleeping. He lets out a deep sigh eyes leaving your figure and focusing completely on the road.

"Because I am her boss and she is my subordinate. I can not cross that line even if i wanted to. I can only imagine what the higher ups would say if they found out."

"Besides she deserves someone better, someone closer to her age, someone her could provide her with everything she could want or need. Why would she want someone like me," he finished off.

Rossi shook his head, "You, my friend, are completely clueless. How could she not want to be with you? Have you seen the way she looks at you? And don't give me that B.S. about your status as her boss, as if that matters. Trust me Aaron, that girl would follow you through hell and back if you asked her and i know you would do just the same."

Hotch let Rossi's words sink in. He kept his head forward, choosing not to reply in order to completely shut down this conversation, not wanting to get his hopes up too high.

Luckily the hotel quickly came into view and Hotch felt himself relax slightly. As soon as the suvs were parked everyone got off and split up and made their separate ways into their hotel rooms. Getting off, Hotch made his way to the back passanger side to wake you and send you off to sleep in your room.

He got to his own room, going through his normal night time routine before slipping into bed. Despite the late hour and lack of proper sleep the night before, his mind seemed to run non stop. It wasn't the unresolved case or fact that the unsubs motive was hard to pinpoint.

No, his mind seemed to be full of you. The conversation with Rossi seemed to have kickstarted his thoughts into a spiral. Eventually he drifted off to sleep his final thought of you and what he believes could never be.

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

Eventually you and the team had finally managed to find the link between the victims and his motive became clear. Richard Cornwall, a local who lives in the outskirts of town on his family ranch had been taking the victims and making them weaken enough to use in his own version of "hunting."

The evidence pointed to you all that he was a narcissist that believed he was too good at hunting the local game that it no longer was fun to him. So he thought that using real people would provide more of a challenge, that way he could really prove he was the best and what he did.

Currently on route to the Cornwall family ranch, y'all prepared yourselves. It was common knowledge that he was a hunter so you knew he had to have a surplus of weapons as well as being on the look out for and traps he might have left around the property.

Parking the suvs in front of the main house, you split up to survey the property looking for Cornwall and the latest person he had kidnapped.

While the rest of the team searched the two story house, you, Hotch, and Reid had taken the left side of the property going straight towards the barn, stalls, and the field. You noticed a deer blind a little ways away in the field making a mental note to take a sweep of it after checking out the barn.

After clearing the stalls, you guys made your way though the barn with no signs of Cornwall or the victim. Reid noticed a corner of the barn that seemed to be where he left the vicitms to bleed out. The deep red was splattered on the walls and completely covered the floor. Hotch took note of it saying he would get forensics to take samples of it.

As you guys began to exit the barn after clearing it you turned your head towards Hotch and Reid to tell them about the structure you saw in the middle of the field. As soon as you opened your mouth, the sound of a gun shot rang though the air.

You were down within a second, the shot hitting you right in your left shoulder causing you to let out a scream, your other hand reaching out to hold onto the wound. You began to feel lightheaded, the blood coming from your shoulder seemed to be never ending.

Hotch and Reid quickly crouched down taking cover in the barn as another shot rang out. They each grabbed one of your arms pulling you inside to safety with them. The yell you let out was worse than anything Hotch had heard, he could only imagine the pain you were feeling right now.

He radioed the rest of the team and the rest of the officers to let them know to be on the lookout notifying them you were currently down. They only know the general direction the shot came from, not too sure where Cornwall was.

"The blind" you let out weakly.

Reid spotted the deer blind a little ways out in the field and let everyone else know the location so they could proceed with caution.

You on the other hand, felt like you would pass out any second now. You felt like you were on fire, your shoulder growing heavier by the second. Soon your vision started getting spotty, white dots littered your sight as you tried to blink them away, tears streamed down your face from the pain.

Hotch turned to look at you to make sure you were alright but quickly noticed the flushed look on your face, your lips were pale, a sign you were soon to faint.

"Hey, L/N, look at me. You need to stay awake for me." he urged, shaking your head a bit to stimulate you.

The sound of his voice was coming in and out, growing louder then getting harder to hear, your ears no longer wanting to work. You blinked a bit trying to focus on him and what he was currently saying to you.

"Y/N, you're losing a lot of blood, they might have to do a blood transfusion at the hospital," he ushers out, desperation evident in his voice, "What is your type?"

In your current state, you tried hard to process what he was asking you. You vision was quickly growing worse and it was getting harder to hear him. You let out the first thing that came to your mind.

"You."

The last thing you heard was JJ's voice over the coms informing they had got unsub in custody and finally found the last victim who was luckily alive. Black soon consumed your vision and you were out like a light.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The feeling of the ground rumbling beneath you was the first hint to you that you were slowly gaining consciousness.

Soon the low sounds of a siren could be heard, slightly muffled to you. You tried desperately to open your eyes but you couldn’t find the strength. But you could feel a weight in your hand and you tried to flex your hand, your fingers twitching slightly.

At that you could have sworn you heard what sounded like your name. You tried to focus your hearing a bit more.

“Y/N,” you heard a man say.

You know that voice. You’ve heard it before somewhere. The sound of it seemed to make you calmer. At the sound of his voice again you tried once more to open your eyes.

A blinding light above you is the first thing you see, yet everything still seemed to be foggy. You glance at you surroundings, your eyes barely open a crack. That is when you see him.

He looked absolutely ethereal, you could’ve sworn he was an angel here on earth. The bright glow from the lights casted a halo around him. But there’s no way he could be here right now. He opens his mouth to speak again.

“Y/N, are you alright? Do you need anything? We are heading to the hospital right now, we should be there any moment.”

You stared at him for what seemed like forever just taking him in. His sentence went in one ear and out the other, as if he never said anything to begin with, as if he wasn’t even then, a mere figment of your imagination. You couldn’t wrap your head around what was going on or where you were. The only thing you could say was what you were currently thinking.

“I dream of you so often, I don’t know if you’re even real.”

And with that you felt yourself slowly slipping back into unconsciousness. The sound of that man’s voice imbedded deep in your mind.

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

A low beeping lulled you out of your unconscious state. Your eyelids felt heavy, as if they were made of concrete, not allowing you to open them just yet. You stayed there unmoving, trying to get accustomed to your surroundings, willing yourself to try and feel anything around you.

You could feel the soft pillow underneath your head and the, somewhat, stiff bed underneath you. In your head, you knew your were laying in a bed somewhere, but for the life of you, you could not recall a single thing that happened to you or where you could possibly be at this moment.

Racking your brain, you tried desperately to remember what was going on. The last thing you remembered was that you and the team had a case you were working on. Where was it? Oh, right, you guys were currently in Texas. The unsub was a fisherman? No, wait, a hunter.

As you started to recall more and more of the case it all started to come back to you. You, Hotch, and Reid were searching the barn. That's right, you were right on his trail and then... he shot you.

'Wait Hotch, Reid, are they alright?'

Your eyes suddenly shot open at the thought of your friends hurt. Wincing at the sudden bright light around you, you blinking trying to get used to the sight around you.

At the same time, all your senses rushed back to you all at once. you could hear that constant beeping again but this time a little louder. Looking towards your right, you noticed the heart monitor displaying your heart rate. You stared at it for a little bit and watched the line move at a rhythmic pace before you realized that your left hand felt a bit heavier that usual.

Your fingers twitched, slowly flexing, trying to grasp at what was resting in your hand. You turn your head slightly, glancing down at your hand, only to notice another hand placed over yours.

Eyes widening at the slight, you move them from the hand, up the arm and towards the person it belonged to. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight before you.

In the chair next to you, Hotch was leaned back into the chair. His left arm was slung over his abdomen and his right arm was stretched out resting on the side of your hospital bed, hand intwined with yours.

He look so peaceful in his sleep, which was a stark contrast to his usual stoic expression, despite the slight furrow in his brows. How he managed to look so comfortable in that hard plastic chair was beyond you, but you were sure that the exhaustion of the events the night before finally caught up to him.

You watched him for a while, your heart strings pulling at the thought of him so worried about you that he actually slept in that uncomfortable chair all night when he had a nice warm bed back at the hotel you guys were staying at.

The sounds of someone clearing their throat pulled you from your thoughts, as you glance towards the doorway where the sound came from. Rossi stood there leaning against the door frame, a knowing smile gracing his features.

Feeling the heat rise to your face, your eyes dart away from Rossi and down at the blankets the covered you. David knew of the feelings you harbored towards the man to your left, having caught you staring at him a little longer that usual a couple of times. He soon got the truth out of you after a night of drinking, to which you spilled your heart out to the older man in hopes of getting advice from someone that knew Hotch inside and out.

"How you feeling kiddo?"

Hearing his question spoken softly, you glance back up at him and clear your throat feeling it dry from not speaking for hours on end.

"Alright. Just a little sore I guess," you rasp out quietly.

He raises his eyebrow, "A little? Kid you got shot with a rifle, I don't blame you if you said you it hurts like hell, which I'm pretty sure it does."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," you chuckle softly at his words before glancing back down.

You can't help but let your eyes travel back to where your hand was intwined with Hotch's, letting out a little sigh. Rossi's eyes follow yours, then travel up to where his friend slept soundly.

"You know," he starts with a small smile, "he was really worried about you kid. He's been with you since the ambulance pulled up. He refused to leave your side and even rode with you the whole way over here. We even had a hard time trying to get him to go shower or even change. He insisted that he had to be here when you woke up."

You shift your focus up to Hotch's face, taking in the words Rossi was saying, heart melting at the thought. Your mind raced at the implications of what this all meant but you quickly shut them down, not wanting to get your hopes up.

"I'm sure he would've been the same if it were any one of us," you replied, shoulders slumping a bit at the thought.

David rolled his eyes at your words, "You know what I mean Y/N. Sure he would've been worried if it happened to any of us, but I doubt he would be sleeping if those god awful chairs all night if it wasn't for you."

At that you could feel the hand in yours start to twitch, Hotch moving slightly as he began to wake up. Your breath caught in your throat as his eyes started to flutter open. The first thing Aaron saw as he fully woke up was Rossi standing in the doorway staring right at him.

"Dave? What are you doing here?"

Rossi chuckles softly, shaking his head as he pushes himself away from the door frame to stand up straight.

"Oh nothing, figured I should probably go get a bite to eat and maybe a cup of coffee. It seems like you guys have a lot to talk about," he finishes, nudging his head in your direction.

The look of confusion quickly washes away from Hotch's face as his head snaps in your direction. He takes in the sight of you wide awake, a slight flush on your cheeks that he assumes is because of your injury. He could feel your hand flutter underneath his as he glances down at it. The sight of your hand wrapped with his causes his heart to skip a beat, the moment it resumes he swears he can hear it pounding in his ears.

Rossi clears his throat once more gaining the attention of the two, "Well I better be off, let me know if either of you want something. I hope you feel better kiddo."

You let out a small 'thank you' and he smiles at you then sends Aaron a knowing glance when you aren't looking before turning and making his way out. You both sat there in silence, not knowing what to say to each other.

"How are you feeling?" Hotch finally asks, breaking the silence between you.

"Honestly, I've been better," you let out a little chuckle, trying to ease the tension, before turning solum again remembering your current state.

"I'm sorry for worrying you. I should've know better, if only I-"

Hotch cuts you off with a reassuring squeeze to your hand.

"Don't," he says firmly, "Don't you ever blame yourself for something that is out of your control. You did all you could and your observations helped us catch the unsub and the last victim was found alive."

"I know, but I just feel bad cause you had to sleep on that," you say, gesturing towards the chair he was sitting on.

He lips quirk up ever so slightly, "Don't worry about it, I should be used to it now because of all the late nights I spend at the office. Besides, I wanted to. I wouldn't do this for just anyone," he says, starting to gain the courage to tell you what is on his mind.

"Hotch-" you start, only to be cut off by him.

"Wait, just let me say this," he holds his hand up. you nod encouraging him to continue.

"Y/N, you are the bravest person I know, not to mention the most caring and thoughtful. You always tend to put others first, but are still able to stand up for yourself and voice your needs. I admire so much about you that I could possibly go on forever. What made me fall for you is beyond me, but I know what I'm feeling is real. I kept telling myself that I shouldn't love you, that I shouldn't cross that boundry, but its not as simple as it sounds. No matter how hard I tried, you made me fall harder and faster without doing much," he sighed, "Even if you don't feel the same, i just needed to tell you."

At the end of his speech your eyes were shining with unshed tears. Never have you heard anything as sweet and poetic as that. You could feel every one of his words in your soul as if he was speaking right to it. He had put his heart on his sleeve for you and you thought it was only fair you did the same.

"Aaron, when I first met you I thought you were just a cold, stoic, blunt man,"

Hotch could've sworn he felt his heart ache at the words leaving your mouth, but that soon changed as you continued.

"But, then I met you and learn a lot about you. You actually had a similar sense of humor as me and know how to dish out a joke as well as take one. Your wit is one of the things that surprised me the most about you. Not to mention that you protect the ones you care about with your life. You come off as nonchalant when in fact you care so much about each and every one of us on this team. And despite what you think, you're the best dad Jack could ever ask for. You really are his hero and I don't blame him. You say you admire me but, oh boy, you have no idea how much about you I cherish and appreciate."

"At first I thought it was nothing more than just a silly little crush, but it turned into so much more than that. I couldn't stop thinking about you no matter how hard I tried, it happened without me even realizing it. You are the first thing on my mind when I wake up in the morning and the last thought I have before I drift off to sleep at night, its like you're all that's in my mind. My heart has yearned for you longer than I knew it myself and now that I know that its not just me, I'm willing to cross that line as long as you're there with me," you finished giving his hand a loving squeeze.

Aaron stared at you with loving eyes and you could've sworn your heart stopped at the sight. You looked at him shyly with the newfound revelation of your feelings towards each other being mutual. You could feel yourself slowly leaning towards him and him doing just the same.

As the distance between you grew shorter and shorter, you both were stealing glances at each others' lips. Just as you were about to close the distance, a sharp pain shot right through your shoulder causing you to wince and pull back.

Hotch looked at you with worry helping you lean back into the hospital bed. His eyes scanned your face for any traces of discomfort as you got situated back into place. Your eyes met as if he was ask you a silent question, you nodded letting him know you were fine as he sighed in relief.

Chuckling a bit a the situation, he shook his head slightly before leaning down and placing a tender kiss to the crown of your head.

"Let's wait till you get out of here for that," he smirks, "Besides I need to treat you out to a nice dinner before we could have some dessert" he finished with a swift kiss to the knuckles of your hand that was still interlocked with his.

You couldn't help the heat that quickly rose to your face at his comment. Never, did you think Hotch could be that smooth. Rolling your eyes, you gently slap his arm causing him to laugh softly.

"You're so corny."

"Well you better get used to it cause you're stuck with me now," he replies with a smile.

You shake your head with a giggle, "Can I take that back?"

"Nope," he says, smile growing wider as a mischievous look glints in his eyes, "Besides you said I'm just your type."

The memory of what he was talking about quickly floods into your mind.

Your face flushes a deep shade of embarrassment and you quickly cover your face with your hands, "Oh my god!"

A/n: I really hope you guys liked it! It took me quite a bit to write but i really love the way it came out! I honestly think this is probably my favorite one I've written so far! Just to let y'all know i do have quite a bit planned out so be on the lookout for that and hopefully I'll be able to put out little thing here and there! Once again if y'all want to be added to the tag list the link is here ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ and just fill it out for whatever you want to be tagged for and if you don't know what I write for just checkout my masterlist or leave and ask and I will reply as soon as i can get to it!

Taglist: @uraveragegorewhore @drayshadow @wlfstxr @nikkitc0703 *The ones in red are the ones I couldn't tag so if you want to be added again or removed just fill out the form or comment on here!*