#like the amount of times they were complaining in the group chat that they wished she would come in our country for the eras tour was really

[maztemmo98]

i gotta admit that 1989 was the only TS album I ever liked and actually listened all of the songs (the others I only liked like a few songs that were singles) but i cant fucking wait for her to be done with rerelease bc I cant stand seeing/hearing about her all the time.

and haylor fans are gonna be so fucking annoying

[hslllot]

insieme in paradiso

“together in paradise”

rated m | 2.7k words

better late than never, right? this is a short piece for my dear friend’s @harry-on-broadway​ fic challenge (the prompts used are in bold)! It is basically an extended version of this concept I wrote back in 2021... We’ve had such great latam content lately that I feel like I should have adjusted the setting of this, but I hope you enjoy anyways! As always, please let me know what you think. xx shan

———

Was this heaven?

You were certain that you’d never felt more relaxed as you bathed in the Tuscan sunlight. Lounging beside your love, you let your eyes close, the book you were reading abandoned in the sand next to your chair ages ago. Every worry, every stressor, every bit of tension in your muscles that you carried with you drifted away in the winds of the ocean breeze. 

This was the private getaway with Harry you’d been longing for. It seemed like forever since the two of you were able to spend an extended amount of time alone together. 

“Mum just posted this photo. Look. Thea’s getting so big.” Your boyfriend interrupted your daze when he reached out from beside you to shove his phone in your face.  

You opened your eyes slowly and lowered your sunglasses so you could take a proper look. Using your hand to shield the glare of the Italian sun, you saw on his screen an Instagram story his mother had posted of his cousin’s baby. 

“She’s adorable, H.” You responded, adjusting your sunglasses back to cover your eyes. “We should give Ella a call later, maybe we can FaceTime.” All you heard in response was a short grunt as he laid back in his chair, eyes still fixed on his screen.

He was grumpy and you could tell. 

One thing about your boyfriend of three years, which you found incredibly endearing, was that he loved his family more than anything. Unfortunately, when his family was gathered and he couldn’t be there, he’d tend to get a bit pouty. You’d find him glued to the group chat or Instagram to get updates on what they were up to. Sometimes you would catch him ‘liking’ or ‘reacting’ to their posts and stories (on his private account of course) in an attempt to make himself feel more included. 

Birthdays. Weddings. Babies. There was a long list of family events he often had to miss because of his job, and you knew it weighed heavily on his heart. 

A small part of you was slightly annoyed that he wished he were somewhere else. But another part of you, perhaps the more compassionate part, understood that multiple truths could exist at once: 1) He was happy to be spending time with you, 2) he was grateful for his job that took him to beautiful countries and allowed him to live a lavish life, and 3) he missed his family dearly. 

But sometimes you didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just go home and visit them whenever he felt like it. He certainly could afford it, and he had the power in all of his business relationships to take a vacation whenever he felt like it. Sometimes you wished he had more of a ‘diva’ type attitude when it came to certain things, like allowing himself to take breaks from work. However, another thing about your boyfriend was that he was a chronic overachiever and people pleaser with a tendency to overcommit to new projects. And you figured it wasn’t so bad to have a partner in life who was considerate of other peoples’ time and feelings. 

Plus, you couldn’t complain much because his commitment to a new project was how you found yourself at the beautiful, private, Il Pellicano in Tuscany. 

The two of you were finally spending some much needed quality time together. Coordinating your schedules had been an absolute nightmare and it was a miracle that you were able to take some time away from work to join him on this trip. He was technically here on business, preparing for the launch of his Gucci collection with Alessandro. But you had spent the majority of the trip together, watching him model his clothing, sitting side-by-side on the small private beach of your villa, and wrapped around one another in the bedroom.

At the moment though, Harry’s frustration, guilt, and longing to be with his family was threatening to penetrate the bubble of relaxation surrounding you. You could feel the restless energy emanating off of him. Without opening your eyes you heard the way he moved around in his chair and sighed under his breath as he scrolled through his phone and typed away messages in his family group chat. When you finally did open your eyes you found him on his stomach, his head at the other end of the chair near your feet, and his phone two inches from his face. And while this position afforded you a great view of his tanned back and taut muscles glistening in the Italian heat, clad only in a small pair of black swimming shorts, you could feel the tension radiating from him and you couldn’t ignore it any longer. 

You reached across and placed your hand on the back of his calf, rubbing your thumb back and forth against his warm, sun-kissed skin, as if to soothe him.

“Hey baby?”

“Hmmm?” He responded mindlessly, not bothering to look up from his phone. 

“Hey, look at me.” You urged, squeezing his calf to gain his attention. 

“Sorry” he murmured, putting his phone down. He twisted in the lounge chair to face you, sitting up to give you his full attention. You reached for his hand and intertwined your fingers with his. 

“I was thinking… I know we’re supposed to head back to London on Sunday, but what if we took a few days in Holmes Chapel?” He raised an eyebrow at you curiously, wordlessly asking where this had come from. You continued, “It’s been so long since we’ve seen Anne and I miss her… Plus, we’ve only seen Thea once since she’s been born. I think I can extend my vacation by a few days.”

He sat there for a moment silently, teasing at his bottom lip.

“I have a meeting with Lambert and Molly on Monday in London.” He winced, remembering his prior commitment.

“Surely you can do it over Zoom. Or just push it a couple days. You are the boss, aren’t you?” 

Something flickered in his eyes and a slight smirk crept his lips at your mention of him being the boss. 

His gears were turning and you knew him well enough to know the battle going on inside his brain. He probably didn’t love the idea of moving a meeting to go see his mum, but since it was technically your idea it was like a free pass. He could feel less guilty about it because he was doing it for you. 

(Obviously you both knew this was entirely for him… But you needn’t say it)

You thought he might pass on the opportunity, and were startled when he removed his hand from yours and scrambled up from his lounge chair. He quickly moved onto your chair, straddling you with his entire body weight pinning you down. With his forearms rested on either side of your head, he placed quick kisses all over your face. Almost reflexively, you wrapped your hands around his biceps. His hot, sinewy arms flexed in your grip. 

“Yeah,” is all he said before placing a long, slightly wet, kiss on your forehead. “I AM the boss. And I would like that very much. Thank you for suggesting it.” Unable to wipe the smile from his face, he placed one more tender kiss on your lips.

You reached for the sunglasses that sat atop his head and removed them, freeing space for you to run your fingers through his soft brown curls. “You’re welcome, H.” He lowered into your touch, eager for a cuddle. “But you have to get up. You’re squishing me.”

“Right, sorry.” He removed himself from on top of you and took a seat by your feet at the end of the chair. It was his turn to soothe you now, grazing his palm along your calf and up to your knee, which he gave a squeeze before dragging his hand back down.

“I think it’s time we get out of the sun, yeah?” The sly look on his face was all too familiar as his gaze trailed down your bikini-clad body. “You’re lookin’ a little sunburnt.”

“Am I?” You teased.

“I’ve got something I can rub on it back in our room.”

You rolled your eyes at him, feigning annoyance at his flirtation. Nonetheless, you knew where this was headed.

Gathering your belongings hastily, you were both eager to make your way back to the air conditioned room that held your luxurious king bed. You trailed behind Harry, climbing the stone steps up to the private entrance of your villa hand in hand. 

Once inside your room, you dropped your tote bag and walked over to the balcony, sliding open the curtains and the door to let the sunshine and salt air filter through the room. Looking out at the scene below, you could see the private beach where you and Harry had spent your morning and admired the way the Tuscan sun illuminated the sapphire blue ocean ahead. You took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly as you felt Harry come to stand closely behind you.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” You said quietly. Harry wrapped his arms around you from behind, allowing you to rest your chin on his forearms. He nuzzled his face into your neck where he left a delicate touch of his lips.

“Thank you for being here with me.” He responded. 

Any annoyance you previously felt toward your boyfriend’s proclivity for FOMO melted away when you realized how grateful you were to be here with him. In the chaos of his busy life, while he missed his family deeply, he chose to be here with you, together in paradise. 

You turned yourself in his arms, your body flush against his, to find his soft, yet intense, gaze on your lips. 

Harry held lightly onto your hips. Leaning in, his lips parted, and you could feel his warm breath against yours. You placed your hands on his chest, his skin burning under your fingers. With every shallow intake of breath he edged closer, until finally catching your top lip between his.

His hands trailed up your sides as your kiss became deeper, fuller. You felt like you might melt against him, heat racing down to every part of your body that was touching his. He roamed your curves and the expanse of your back, pressing you even closer to him, before finding the strings that held together your bikini. With two gentle tugs, the piece of fabric fell to the ground. 

He broke away from your kiss only briefly to study the sight of you, topless, in front of him. “Bellissima,” he whispered, his voice deep and slow. You saw the muscles in his jaw tick as his gaze burned holes through you. It was your turn, this time, to grab onto him and press him closer against you, feeling his hardness. 

It wasn’t long before Harry’s mouth started to move down your body. Your neck, your collarbone, your chest. His tongue dragged over your nipple before sucking it into his mouth and an intoxicating heat rippled through you. 

“Bed, please” was all you could muster under your breath. Harry reluctantly pulled himself off you and started walking you back, stopping when the back of your legs hit the bed. He gently lowered you onto the bed and resumed his work dragging his mouth down your body, finishing off with a chaste kiss to your hip bone.  

He stood up straight at the edge of the bed, towering over you. Eager for him, you removed your bikini bottoms and tossed them to the floor. 

“A bit impatient?” He chuckled, looking down hungrily at your naked body. You didn’t bother to respond, leaning back on your forearms, you kicked your leg out and toed at the tent in his black swimming shorts, encouraging him to take them off. “Tell me” he said sternly.

“I want them off.”

He pulled his shorts down and discarded them on the floor before climbing on to the bed. You admired the way he wrapped his hand around his cock and began slowly stroking himself, a small sense of relief evident on his face. He lowered himself over you and pressed his lips to yours. While your tongues met, the pads of his fingertips began to explore, trailing delicately down your stomach. Your body responded to his familiar touch, goosebumps racing over you and a fire simmering in your belly. 

You were desperate for him, your body begging for him to touch you as his fingers made their way down to your heat. A heavy moan left your lips when he began running circles over your clit. At that moment, you were completely overwhelmed by him. The way his lips felt against yours, the taste of his tongue, the scent of his cologne, the soft pads of his fingers on your most sensitive spot. 

“I want you,” you whined.

“You have me,” he answered teasingly, his mouth only a fraction of an inch away from yours. He dragged his finger down and dipped into your entrance. “Fuck - you’re so wet.”

“Please…”

At your begging he positioned himself between your legs, removed his fingers, and replaced them with a press of his hips against yours, the tip of his cock firm against your slit.  

Your hands grappled to hold on to any part of him you could, eventually landing on his shoulders. Gripping tightly, your fingertips dug into his skin. You wrapped your ankles around his calves and felt the way his body fit perfectly against yours.

The first thrust inside you was slow. Every inch of your body pulled tight around him as he sank deeper. Your breath hitched as a wave of pleasure raced through you. 

“Fuck,” Harry rasped as he rocked into you. The sound of his voice sent a tingle down your spine. “I love you so much,” he whispered into your skin, brushing a kiss across your jaw. 

You said it back to him as the two of you moved against each other, getting lost in the feelings of love and undulating pleasure between you. 

———

You and Harry spent the rest of the day immersed in one another in your private villa. 

The last go around, you unraveled together with his face buried in your neck while you were clutched tight around him. 

He pulled out and collapsed beside you, trying to catch his breath. 

You turned on your side to look at him, flooded with warmth and giddiness as you acknowledged how handsome he was. You used the tip of your finger to trace the lines of his face. The sharp cut of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the full of his lips. As you were about to trace your thumb over his eyebrow he grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lips. 

“Thank you again for suggesting we go to Holmes Chapel after this,” he said against your hand, still pressed to his lips. 

“Of course,” You moved closer to him and he let go of your hand in order to wrap his arms around you. “You can go home whenever you want, you know.” 

He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “I know. It’s easier to go when I know you’re coming with me.”

You hummed in understanding and pressed your lips against his chest.

“I should give Jeffrey a call and ask him to make the travel arrangements for us… And postpone my meetings.” 

As if on cue, his phone’s ringtone chimed from his tote bag on the floor by the door. He was reluctant to let go of you, but you gave him a look of approval that had him scrambling out of the bed to retrieve it. You took the opportunity to admire his naked body, silently thanking the Italian sun and his morning cardio routine for the glorious sight of him. 

You felt a warmth in your chest, though, at the smile that grew on his face when he looked down at his phone to see who was calling.

“Hey mum, yeah….guess what…I’m coming home.”

———

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think. 

[rin-itoshi]

mc’s departure | obey me

summary: how the brothers would react to MC returning to the human world after a year in the devildom

contains: fluff , angst , ?!!!!&;@;&:idk

♯ LUCIFER

he’s the one to see you off, reminding you of the many things he had taught you so that you’d never forget.

his pride is much too large to admit that he will miss you to death and that he loves you dearly.

after you’re gone, he’s gone for hours at a time, holed up in his room with as much as work as he can take on.

he overworks himself with the intention of getting rid of the heavy emotion on his heart.

everything reminds you of him, even the paper clip on his desk that you had once found under his bed.

he gets easily irritable, feeling rather empty now that you’ve gone and left him alone in this now quiet house.

barely leaves his room, only works.

never cries but gets quite emotional when he finds a belonging you left behind.

♯ MAMMON

he cried every single night up until your departure but never showed you that side of him once

after you left, he cried non-stop, not caring if he looked like a cry baby in front of his brother’s who watched him with pitiful eyes.

once his eyes dried up, he soon never returned home as he partied all day and night.

he forced himself to attend parties after parties in order to forget about you.

it never works because everything reminds him of you.

sometimes he sits in his car and just stares into space, wondering what you’re doing now that you’re back on earth.

literally cannot stand the mention of you or your name or he may break down.

pretends to be okay but can’t go a day without getting upset about your absence.

money soon becomes pointless when he realizes no amount of cash will bring you back to the house of lamentation.

♯ LEVIATHAN

curled up in his bath tub and cried himself to sleep.

stopped leaving his room in general, continuously playing games all day and night.

couldn’t look at his ruri-chan figures because they somehow reminded him of you and how much you used to admire them with him.

every inch of his room has your touch on it and it makes his heart ache painfully.

struggles to attend online school but manages to make it through the day by zoning out in class.

claims he doesn’t care about a normie like you but genuinely misses you

sends you messages, forgetting you can no longer contact him without your D.D.D

writes about how much he misses you on his blog fully aware you’ll never see it.

♯ SATAN

reading. that’s all he does.

he hides in his room and reads every single book he has stacked up along his room, even rereading them if he finished everything.

uses books to get his mind off of you—or more so the lack of you.

will sometimes get excited about a stray cat he sees but stops himself when he realizes he can’t tell you because you aren’t here.

gets angry. a lot.

the smallest things set him off and he can longer feign a smile when he hears your name or anything related to you.

he misses you so much that he wants to tear out his hair and rip apart all these book page by page.

his room is in shambles and he can’t seem to think straight anymore.

♯ ASMODEUS

loses his interest in everything.

forgets his skin care routine and lets himself go without caring about it.

forces himself to go to parties and tries to sleep with someone to feel better but when it fails, he stops sleeping around in general.

like mammon, he doesn’t come home often to avoid seeing the house he had lived in with you happily.

cannot forget about you no matter what he does, and that frustrates him the most.

wishes he had done something to stop you or at least slept beside you one last time.

neglects himself for a while.

♯ BEELZEBUB

poor bby isn’t hungry for once.

can’t seem to eat now that you’re not sitting beside him, giggling about something he had said.

spends a lot of his time doing weight training and exercising to get his mind off of you.

misses all the meals you used to make on the nights you were in charge of cooking.

sometimes forgets you’re not around whenever he’s about to go downstairs to eat dinner.

clings to belphie in hopes to fill the gap in his heart.

accidentally broke down your room door in an angry fit when your absence finally set in.

♯ BELPHEGOR

either he sleeps even more or somehow gets less sleep.

no matter what, he feels sluggish and blank.

locks himself in the attic, almost as if he was never released in the first place.

even though he hated humans, your absence affected him the most after he had grown to love you as a human.

nearly went demon mode on diavolo when he found out that you were being sent back to the human world.

partially wishes he never met you but cherishes his memories with you too much to ever wish for that wholeheartedly.

sleeps in your bed often to hold onto your lingering scent that was fading quickly.

complains to beel that you were nothing but a stupid human who turns their backs on demons like them, but he never means anything he says.

“Why is it so quiet in here?” Diavolo asks as he opens the front door of the House of Lamentation with Barbatos at his side. The man’s golden eyes scanned the entry hall, noticing how it was so eerily dark and quiet that it almost felt like something out of a horror movie. It felt like no one had lived here in over two thousand years. “Hello?”

Upon receiving message from Diavolo, everyone had exited their rooms for the first time in a while, looking like they were dragged through the mud. The state they were in made Diavolo jump with surprise, shocked to find that even Lucifer looked like he was ill. “What happened to you guys?!”

“What is it that you need, Lord Diavolo?” Lucifer asked as he ran a hand through his hair to compose himself a bit in front of the red haired man. “If is nothing important, may I kindly ask you to leave and return another time?”

Diavolo sighed, shaking his head lightly as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know what’s up with you guys, but I brought everyone’s favorite person along with me so sing your praises now!”

Mammon huffed, “If ya’ talking about that butler of yours, ain’t nobody care right now! We got bigger things to worry about!”

Barbatos simply smiled, taking no offense to the sly insult thrown his way.

Diavolo cocked a brow in confusion. “What? Of course not! It’s-“

The person stepped out from behind Diavolo, catching the attention of every single male in the room. The seven brother’s choked, staring at the one person they had longed for these past few days.

“[y/n]!” They shouted in unison, practically flying down the stairs to get to you. Mammon was the first to reach you, wrapping his arms around your entire body as he tackled you to the floor. The other brother’s climbed on top of you two, hugging you so tightly that you feared this would be where you’d die. “You’re back!”

Diavolo chuckled boisterously. “This is amusing! You lot are acting like you didn’t know they’d return today!” His laugh came to an abrupt stop when he saw the flat expressions coming from each and every brother. “Oh- Did I not inform you?”

“Obviously you didn’t.” Belphegor scoffed with a roll of the eyes, burying his face in the crook of your neck to inhale your scent. “[y/n]...”

“Ya can’t ever leave again! I’ll seriously get angry at ya if this happens again! Ya either go to the human world with me or ya don’t go at all!” Mammon snapped, cupping your cheeks while getting dangerously close to your face to yell at you.

“I’ll severely punish you if you ever leave this manor without giving me a heads up as to where you’re off to. You’re not just an exchange student anymore. You’re special.” Lucifer explained, a panicked glint in his tired eyes as he reached out to pat your head gently with his gloved hand.

Satan sighed, pressing his forehead against your back. “If you leave again, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control my emotions, so don’t leave.”

The avatar of lust whined loudly, “my beautiful self can’t handle a life without you! Don’t ever go anywhere without me again!” He clutched onto her waist tightly.

“Don’t... Don’t go anywhere.” Leviathan said with a sad frown on his lips as he held your hand, bringing it up to rest against his cheek. “It’s so empty without you.”

“Let’s eat dinner together, [y/n].” Beel suggested, his voice full of emotions as he drooled at the thought of dinner with you.

A million emotions ran through your veins as you sat there, basking in the warmth of their touch. It was overwhelming to receive so much love all at once but it was amazing.

A smile slowly crept onto your lips as you leaned into their touch, enjoying the way they clung to you as if you’d disappear any moment now. “I missed you guys, too.”

“What a lovely reunion!” Diavolo exclaimed happily, snapping a view blurry photos on his D.D.D to send to the group chat later.

After the heartfelt moment, they quickly disappeared upstairs to fix up their appearance before rushing downstairs to the kitchen where you stood. They clung to you like bugs to a light, hounding you about your sudden departure, only to find out that you had gone up there with Diavolo and Barbatos to help the man experience human world activities he had never gotten to try before. Diavolo was sure he had told them that but seeing as they were genuinely distressed, he assumed the message never reached.

Even though they were beyond pissed with Diavolo and his carelessness, they were just glad you were back. Them being here with you really was their idea of a perfect life.

a/n: UH YEA K GOODNIGHT

[sparklysung]

✨SWALLOW YOUR WORDS – l.d.h.✨

© sparklysung – 2021. all rights reserved. no reposts, modifications and/or translations allowed.

pairing – lee donghyuck x female!reader

genre – smut | non-idol!au, enemies to lovers!au

warnings – switch!donghyuck, switch!reader, lap dance, cumming in pants, grinding, dry humping, cum eating, hair pulling (giving and receiving), spanking, mirror sex, protected sex (reader’s on the pill), degradation, dirty talk, bondage (belt), possessiveness (i guess?)

word count – 6.043 words

summary – it only took a couple of words to make the blood boil in your veins and being the competitive individual you are, you had to prove lee donghyuck, your all-time enemy, wrong.

note – not my best, probably could've done better, but oh well. also this was frkng hard to write, damn, and i may have changed things a bit? BUT, i think it's better like this so… hope you enjoy! btw, i got the idea while reading this, so go check it out –it's good–.

taglist – @prvncejxon, @iwishihadabettername

another friday night wasting your time at some random classmate’s party. you were everything but happy to be there. you didn’t even want to go there in the first place, only finding yourself sitting on the kitchen counter, drink in hand and an ugly scowl adorning your face, because of your annoying best friend.

“hey, i get it, you didn’t wanna come here when you could have been peacefully sleeping in the comfort of your room, but come on, at least try to have some fun. you’re already here anyway.” eunbin –aka your annoying best friend– said, pouting her lips in a failed attempt of looking cute.

you kind of felt bad for her, you suppose it wasn’t exactly easy to deal with your lazy ass. but still, she was supposed to love you and appreciate you just the way you were.

and most of the time she did, just not in this specific situation.

“this isn’t fun at all, i just wanna go home. there’s nothing in here for me at all.”

you brought the red plastic cup to your lips, taking a sip of the bitter liquid eunbin had mixed for you. you weren’t lying, there really wasn’t anything that would make you want to stay, only a few friends of yours getting drunk somewhere in the big house you were currently in.

“come on, please, stay for me,” eunbin fake cried, and for a moment you thought she was going to give up and let you go. “in a bit the guys are gonna play something fun! we should join them, please?” as her last resort, she looked at you with puppy eyes. she was playing dirty and she knew it, you both knew you couldn’t resist them.

giving in with an exasperated sigh, you jumped off the counter to get yourself another drink from the bar in the living room. you were minding your own business until you heard him, the last person you wanted to see at the moment.

“so, i’m telling you guys, she was literally begging me to fuck her, she even moaned while sucking me off–,” donghyuck’s obnoxious voice filled your ears, making you roll your eyes. he was surrounded by a couple of other guys you didn’t know so well but were sure you had seen them before around campus hanging out with him.

“shut up already, dongdong, no one wants to hear it.” you interrupted, walking past him and towards the half empty bottle of vodka on the bar counter.

the group of boys stopped abruptly, all of them turning to look at you, ready for the scene that was going to take place in matter of minutes. donghyuck’s attention also turned to you, biting back a triumphant smirk with a raised eyebrow. he could see past you so he didn’t mind the mocking nickname you used; he could tell you were trying to irritate him enough to make him go away. but he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. he had been eyeing you all night, trying to find ways to get under your skin to catch your attention. and finally, after staying at a safe distance for a while to not spark suspicions, he got what he wanted.

“why so feisty, babe.” the cocky smirk he gave you just made your blood boil, the growing desire to punch it off his pretty face only getting stronger the more you stared at him.

“don’t you get tired of talking shit all day?” you barked, eyes trained on his body while pouring yourself a good amount of alcohol.

you were certainly going to need a lot of liquid courage to get through the night.

“you boast about girls begging for you but i think you’re just trying to hide the fact that you’re the one who has to beg to get laid.”

“i don’t beg, baby.” you rolled your eyes and muttered a ‘sure’. “also, if you’re jealous of me fucking other girls you just had to say it. i wouldn’t be against giving it to you instead.” the stupid wink he threw at you made your body shake in anger, already fed up with the conversation.

“you wish, asshole.”

“actually, i do.”

donghyuck was so fucking annoying, always teasing you and never leaving you alone. your personalities clashed constantly resulting in fights filled with screams and curses, sometimes to the extent of interrupting the class and getting the two of you kicked out of it. he enjoyed watching you struggle and suffer due to his awful pranks, so you were his favorite target. you couldn’t even have a proper date with anyone because he made sure to mess it up either by scaring the crap out of the guy or sabotaging your plans. he almost completely ruined your love life and cockblocked you forever.

you did not get along and everyone knew it.

although eunbin thought it was pure sexual tension and you just needed to get your frustrations off of you with a good fuck.

it wasn’t though.

or was it?

“let’s go hang out with the guys,” your best friend nudged your arm excitedly and you sighed, not feeling like playing anything with them. every time you decided to give in and take part in ‘something fun’ with the guys, it always ended up with you either in trouble or scarred for life.

you had a bad feeling about this all.

“ugh, fine.” she cheered and pulled you through the crowd of drunk people until you reached the basement.

the sound of laughter and screams drowned the music blasting upstairs, there were empty bottles of alcohol sprawled all over the floor and tables and a circle of people in the middle of the room. both of you joined the group with you sitting between eunbin and mark, a close friend of yours that you sadly shared with donghyuck. while you casually chatted and played around with the boy, happily laughing the night away, you could feel a pair of eyes burn holes into your skull. you didn’t have to look up to know who those eyes belonged to, as said person wasn’t even trying to dissimulate.

and by said person you meant donghyuck.

donghyuck hated the way you leaned on mark’s body, how you let his friend rest his head on top of yours and wrap his arm around your waist.

he was jealous, really jealous of your close friendship with the older boy.

mark and you had been friends for a long time now and you could even consider him your best friend, so you were comfortable around each other. you usually hugged, held hands and cuddled, he was used to you wearing his clothes –half of your closet were stolen hoodies that once belonged to him–, he even had a spare change of clothes in his room just in case you decided to drop by for an improvised sleepover. so it wasn’t surprising when sometimes when the two of you hung out on your own, people –even your friends in common– mistook you as a couple.

and the idea of you two dating made donghyuck feel sick to the stomach.

“we’re playing truth or dare, who wants to start?” seoyeon, one of your friends, spoke while looking around for someone to volunteer.

“i’ll go.” lucas raised his hand and everyone nodded, not minding.

the game went smoothly for a while and eventually, the more alcohol everybody drank, the crazier things got. mark ended up getting dared to lick whipped cream off of yuta’s chest and xiaojun had to cross-dress and dance on a table. everything was fine, you hadn’t been picked by anyone yet so you were pretty much having fun just enjoying the show.

until someone called your name.

“y/n, truth or dare?” jaehyun asked with a smirk.

he had an evil glint on his eyes making you feel suspicious. you knew you couldn’t choose truth or else everyone would make fun of you for being a pussy. and jaehyun just knew you well enough to know you weren’t going to let that happen.

you weren’t one to back down.

still, the way he stared at you made an uneasy feeling settle in your stomach.

what could he possibly have in mind?

“dare.”

seems like your gut feeling was right after all.

“give hyuck a lap dance,” jaehyun said immediately after the words left you mouth, making everyone in the room shake, some in excitement and some –you– in anger. donghyuck wasn’t expecting to take part in the dare, but he really wasn’t complaining either. “thank me later babe,” his shit-eating grin only adding fuel to the fire.

fuck.

just as eunbin, donghyuck could sense the sexual tension. and unlike you, he acknowledged it.

but for him it wasn’t just that.

you two had known each other –or at least acknowledged each other's existence– for a few years now, since high school. he was forced to see you almost every day at school, so, naturally, fondness for you started growing slowly in his chest. but it wasn’t until you both left for college that your ‘enemies’ label was established.

and if someone thought he may possibly like you, they were damn right.

he did.

it all started during freshman year, when he tried to befriend you during one of the classes you shared. you seemed irritated by his advances and wanted him away from you, so after a few attempts of softening your heart, he resolved that the only way to stay close to you was annoying the hell out of you.

childish? yeah. he cared? not really.

“come here, babe.” donghyuck tongued the inside of his cheek, a smirk forming on his lips. as he saw the grim look on your face, he sprawled his legs, patting his toned thigh invitingly, eager to get things started.

the look jaehyun gave you had ‘you’re not backing down, are you?’ written all over.

“shit, i hate jaehyun, why did he have to do me dirty like that?” you mumbled angrily to eunbin and she just laughed, finding the situation way funnier than you.

“maybe tonight won’t be as boring as you thought? maybe you’ll end up getting laid.” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and you only scoffed, “shut up, dumbass.”

“why did you have to do me like that, huh?!” you almost screamed at the older, taking a mental note to beat him up later. he just shrugged and threw you a wink, “asshole.”

mark patted your back to help you relax, he could see you weren’t exactly happy about your dare.

“come on, which song would you like, my lady?” lucas asked, scrolling through his spotify for suiting songs.

“or nah!” yangyang answered before you could even open your mouth. just as you were about to ask for a less sexual song, cheering erupted through the room.

everyone was pumped, adrenaline running through their veins and pushing them to do stupid stuff they would probably regret the next day after waking up hungover. and things just took a rather interesting turn, so they obviously were excitedly awaiting the next series of events.

yay, more stupid memories to regret later.

on the other hand, donghyuck was as doomed as you. he knew the song well, he knew the lyrics by heart but what he didn’t know was if he could control himself with you basically dry humping him in front of a bunch of people to the rhythm of it.

he wasn’t sure it was a great idea.

as soon as you got up to complete the dare, you heard cheering and clapping. and you weren’t going to lie, you wanted to throw yourself out of a window.

breathing deeply in an attempt of relaxing to just get it over with, you made your way towards donghyuck until you were standing a few feet in front of him.

as the music started playing, you started moving. running your finger on the surface of his clothed shoulder, you walked slowly around him, like a predator circling its prey. he tried not to follow your movements, already getting anxious by your closeness and nervously waiting for your next move.

i’ma smoke this joint then i’ma break you off.

i’d be lying if i said you ain’t the one.

you pushed his legs open and settled between them. your hands rubbed his thighs teasingly, fingers drawing closer to his crotch but not quite getting there. you took your sweet time feeling him up, softly scratching his strong arms and leaving red trails behind. donghyuck was so into it, enjoying the sight of you kneeling before him so much that his pants were already starting to feel tight.

heard you not the type that you take home to mom.

is we fuckin’ when we leave the club or nah?

i ain’t spendin’ cash for nothin’ i wanna see you take it off.

and oh how he wanted to see you take it off. all night he couldn’t take his eyes off of your figure, you looked really good in the outfit eunbin had chosen for you.

so good it was almost making him drool.

you sat on his lap, hands going to caress his toned chest and stomach. it was well-known that donghyuck exercised frequently, but it still surprised you. he felt so good you had to bite your lip to prevent a sound from coming out.

when you shifted to sit closer to him, his hands flew to your hips and you could tell his intention was to move them lower to grope your ass, but you weren’t having it.

do you like the way i flick my tongue or nah?

you can ride my face until you’re drippin’ cum.

“if you try to touch me again, i’ll tie you up,” you said with a sweet smile plastered on your face, grabbing him by the wrists and harshly dropping them away from you. donghyuck let out a startled gasp at that, obviously not expecting your attitude. with his hands twitching to grasp anything, he went to grip tightly the sides of the chair.

can you lick the tip then throat the dick or nah?

can you let me stretch that pussy out or nah?

your hips ground against his crotch at such a slow pace that donghyuck was having trouble not pushing you down on him faster. he was getting embarrassingly hornier as seconds passed and wanted nothing more than to fuck you right then and there, even with his friends’ eyes on you both.

donghyuck tried so hard to restrain himself from touching you. he wasn’t one to follow orders, but he tried just for you, he really did.

i’m not the type to call you back tomorrow.

but the way you wrappin’ ‘round me is a prob.

and everything was fine until you kissed him. synchronized gasps filled the room, the sudden show of affection confusing everybody. not even your intoxicated self could understand what the hell were you doing nor who you were doing it with. his breath got stuck in his throat, heart thumping against his chest at an alarming rate. his hands almost tried to bring you closer, but he realized what he was doing on time to stop himself.

he finally broke down when your mouth sucked on his tongue, making his hips grind up against yours unconsciously as his hands grabbed you by your waist, pressing your body flush against his.

that was it.

“you asked for it,” your movements came to a stop as you took off your black leather belt, sticking to your threat of tying him up if he didn’t quit it.

pussy so good, i had to save that shit for later.

took her to the kitchen, fucked her right there on the table.

“oh shit,” donghyuck stirred under you trying to get out of the situation.

this couldn’t be happening.

“no, please,” he whimpered as you fastened the belt until it was wrapped tightly around his wrists, locking his arms behind his back. your audience was unable to hold in their surprise, some mouths falling open. he fought against the restraints to no avail, desperate to free himself, “please, let me go,” he cried out quietly, not wanting the other occupants in the room to hear him.

“stop complaining or else i’ll also gag you,” you spat harshly in his ear, done with his attitude, and he swallowed hard. as you nibbled on his lobe, you felt a strong sense of confidence. it made your chest swell in pride to see the usual big mouth jerk with a smug grin constantly attached to his face falling apart under your touch.

seems like he was the one to beg, after all.

you moved your hips to the rhythm of the music, making sure to press harder against the sensitive tip of his cock, which was already leaking precum. although you weren’t an expert, you’d given a fair share of lap dances, so you knew what you were doing.

and donghyuck could certainly tell.

don’t play with a boss, girl take it off.

take it for a real one.

you gon’ get it all.

“whose bitch are you now, huh?” donghyuck couldn’t speak properly, way too hot and bothered for his brain to come up with any smart-ass response.

you tsked disapprovingly at his lack of response.

“when i ask you a question, you answer.” your fingers tangled in his hair and with a harsh tug you forced him to look up. donghyuck was dazed, lips swollen from you biting on them, eyes glassy from arousal, and mind clouded with lust.

“yours.” he whimpered quietly, forgetting momentarily about your audience.

“good boy.”

you loved how easy it was for you to break him and leave him wanting more, to have him so putty in your hands. specially since hearing comments of other female classmates about donghyuck teasing them almost till the brim of tears was part of your day-to-day life. it felt like you were getting revenge for all of them, so you were enjoying it a lot more than anyone could imagine.

your plump lips trailed down the length of his neck, leaving wet kisses along his honey-like skin, and he threw his head back to give you more access. as you licked, sucked and bit the flesh, donghyuck could hear his heartbeat loud over the music. he usually wouldn’t let a girl suck hickeys on his skin, but the idea of you marking him while everyone watched was rather exciting.

he swore the seconds passed slower than usual. you were just halfway through the song but he didn’t know if he could survive any longer.

donghyuck felt light-headed and painfully aroused, and he wasn’t going to last long if you kept kissing him and moving your hips the way you were.

“i’ma go as far as you let me,” your movements became slower to tease him, making the poor boy want to cry in agony. his jeans felt way too tight to be comfortable and he hoped everyone could just leave you two alone to take it off.

“shit, please,” donghyuck’s eyes closed, head falling forward and hanging low as drops of sweat slid down his forehead. the room felt like an oven and he didn’t know if it was a result of the significant amount of people in such a small space, the alcohol, his choice of clothing or your body pressed closely against his.

probably the latter.

girl, is you sucking me or fucking me or nah?

can i bring another bitch? let’s have a threesome.

“keep saying you’re a freak, you gon’ prove it or nah?” you quietly sang along, pulling his face closer by his hair and grinding down on him harder.

donghyuck was going crazy, he had never expected you to be so sexy, to behave so dirtily. but he loved it, and by the prominent tent in his pants, everybody could tell he was in for the ride of his life.

you’s a ride-or-die chick, you with this shit or nah?

say you not a side bitch, you all-in or nah?

you gon’ make them eggs cheesy with them grits or nah?

you brought him in for a hot kiss that left his head spinning.

donghyuck was growing restless as his climax neared, he was so close he could almost taste it. he couldn’t remember when the last time he got so close to cumming only from some teasing was.

everything was happening so quickly he wasn’t able to stop himself before giving in to the pleasure.

“h-holy fuck,” with a shaky moan that you swallowed, donghyuck shot his load, staining the crotch of his dark jeans. you could feel the wetness seeping through the piece of clothing and dampening your bottoms. his hips gave a few more sloppy thrusts, legs shaking weakly and cock twitching from the confines of his jeans, before falling limp on the chair.

or nah.

as the song ended, he came down from his high. you freed him from the iron grip of your belt, the skin on his wrists was red and slightly swollen. you may have tightened it too much in the heat of the moment, but you weren’t apologizing after giving him probably the best orgasm of his life.

the bewildered expression on his face quickly turned grim as it hit him.

he came in his pants like a fucking teenager.

in a room full of people.

in front of his friends, yours and you.

his friends stood there, both confused and surprised to see donghyuck so affected by your touch. nobody had expected things to end the way they did.

“damn, are you okay my man?” johnny asked, laughing at his friend’s flustered state.

“shut up,” donghyuck answered bitterly. he shot up from his seat, grabbing your hand and shoving you inside the nearest bathroom in the house. he didn’t even care to cover the wet spot on his pants, walking with his chin up and a scowl plastered on his face.

and blame it on how riled up you had gotten from the feeling of his hard dick pressing against your needy pussy, but damn, he looked good.

“i wanna go next!” hendery spoke excitedly. you couldn’t tell if he was just messing with you or if he actually wanted you to give him a lap dance too. either way, it made your lips turn upwards in a smug grin.

once you both made it to the bathroom, he locked the door before pushing you against it, back pressed flush into the hard piece of wood. the ambience took a 180 turn, your confidence faltered slightly at the sight of his angry form.

“you think it’s funny, yeah?” he hummed angrily in your ear. “you think i’d let you do whatever you want and embarrass me in front of my friends just because you feel like it without payback?” the look on his eyes getting darker as the words left his mouth.

“if so, oh baby, you were so wrong.”

trying to test him, you decided to answer.

“you’re all bark and no bite, what else am i supposed to think?” you smirked devilishly when you saw him clench his jaw.

“you’re gonna regret being a brat,” his slender fingers wrapped themselves around your waist and with a harsh tug, he pulled you closer to attack your lips, biting and sucking on them, making your legs wobbly. he tasted sweet and bitter at the same time, probably from the liquor he had been drinking all night, and you couldn’t seem to get enough. his lips were soft and plush as they mingled with yours, teeth roughly clashing and tongues fighting for dominance, “am i?”

donghyuck hissed through his teeth as he unbuckled his pants, letting his cum-covered shaft spring free. he was already hard and you unconsciously rubbed your thighs together to ease some of the tension building up between them. his hand shot to your throat, tightening his grip until you couldn’t breathe properly, before forcing you on your knees.

donghyuck tapped his hard and heavy cock on your lips a couple of times before speaking. “open up, slut,” and you did as you were told, parting your lips and poking your tongue out, waiting for him to slide in.

but he didn’t.

he wanted you to lick him clean, he wanted to see you do as he said, follow his orders like a good girl without complaints.

“clean the mess you’ve done. now.”

the harsh tone of his voice sent a wave of arousal straight to your core. your hands immediately shot up to grab a hold of his length, but before you got too close he stopped you. confusion was written all over your face and for a moment you worried he had changed his mind.

“no hands, i want you to work on it only with that dirty mouth of yours.”

with your hands gripping onto his thighs, your tongue swiped from the base to the head of his cock, eagerly licking him clean. once you had swallowed every drop of his cum, your mouth took him whole, hollowing your cheeks, one hand massaging his balls. donghyuck threw his head back as yours bobbed at a rapid pace, the tip of his cock reaching the back of your throat as you swallowed around him.

when he was about to cum, he pulled away from your mouth, making you whine at the loss. wrapping his hand once again around your throat like a beautiful necklace, he forced you up on your feet. he turned you around before pulling you closer by a rough tug. your clothed ass pressed against his dick, a mixture of his arousal and your saliva wetting the cloth. your hips ground back to both tease him, desperate to feel something, anything. his hands went to the front of your jeans, rubbing his fingers over your clothed clit and a whimper fell from your lips.

“more, i need more,” you pleaded, the barrier of clothes making the feeling less pleasurable.

he surprisingly complied without resistance, dipping the digits under the restricting cloth. a deep groan vibrated against the side of your neck when he felt the wetness that had been gathering inside your panties since your dare.

“look at you, so damn wet,” his mouth watered at the feeling of your needy heat. at this point, donghyuck knew everyone had an idea of what you two could possibly be doing, and although he would enjoy returning the favour by eating you out to his heart’s content, there wasn’t enough space nor time to do so comfortably. but he swore he would make it up to you some time.

“for who is it, baby?” the answer was obvious, but still, he wanted to hear it directly from you. he inserted one long finger until it was knuckles deep inside of you and you let out a squeak, head falling back onto his shoulder.

“for you donghyuck, all for you.”

“that’s right, slut, only i can make you that wet, only i can touch you like this. you’re mine, don’t forget that,” he inserted a second finger and pumped them deeply into you.

“yes,” you breathed out softly, too far gone to fight back with a snarky remark.

although his fingers felt good and you could possibly –with a bit of an effort– cum just from them, you still wanted more. you wanted to feel the nice stretch of his cock tearing your walls apart.

“please, donghyuck.”

“what do you want?”

donghyuck knew what you wanted. fuck, he wanted it too, so bad. he had been waiting for an opportunity like this for a long time and now that he could finally have it, he was going to make the best out of it.

“fuck me,” your core ached to be filled so you swallowed your pride and spoke out.

“condom?”

“we don’t need it, i’m on the pill,” you rushed, stomach twisting and turning in excitement, “please, just fuck me.”

donghyuck’s eyes turned darker, lust clouding both of your minds with the only desire to fuck each other stupid. he pulled down your jeans so they were pooling on your ankles and went back to pump his fingers inside you to make sure you were ready to take him. as he entered you, you had to lean on the sink in front of you to hold yourself up or else you would have faceplanted the mirror.

“you feel so good, fuck, so fucking tight,” donghyuck growled when he was balls deep in you.

whimpers fell from your lips from the delicious stretch of his thick cock. after a few seconds of you adjusting to his size, you backed your ass into his hips to let him know you wanted him to move. he gave a couple of thrusts to test the waters before picking up his pace and you gripped the sides of the sink as he pounded into you. his mouth worked on your neck while you brought one of his hands under your shirt to play with your breasts.

“such a pretty sight, don’t you think?” he tugged harshly at your hair to force you to look at your reflection on the mirror, thrusts never faltering.

your makeup was ruined; lipstick smeared messily all over your lips from the hot make-out session, neck full of bruises donghyuck left to claim you, shirt pulled above your breasts displaying your puckered nipples while one of his big hands grabbed your boob as they bounced with every hard snap of his hips.

“you have no idea how many times i had to control myself not to pounce on you,” his eyes never left your quivering reflection, completely in love with the way your frame molded with his, “every single time you couldn’t keep that pretty little mouth of yours closed and all i wanted to do was shut you up with my cock.”

“f-fuck,” his thrusts turned rougher as his free hand wrapped around your neck, tightening his grip and amplifying the mind-blowing sensations he was giving you.

your asscheeks slapped against his hips, which drilled against you at an unhuman pace, hitting the right spots with every snap and making your eyes roll to the back of your head. you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, loud moans threatening to fall from your lips so you slapped your palm over your mouth to muffle your sounds.

“don’t, i want to hear you,” he gave a particularly hard thrust to try and draw a sound out of you, “i want you to be so loud that all of our friends know what we’re doing, i want them to know how good i’m making you feel.”

specially mark.

but he wasn’t going to tell you that.

“h-hyuck,” you couldn’t hold back the broken moan that fell from your lips, pleasure overtaking your body. your hands gave in and you almost fell forward, but donghyuck reacted sooner and pulled you by your hair, holding you up.

“address me properly, brat,” he growled in your ear. you felt a hard slap on your ass, the skin of the abused area stinging from the impact.

“i’m sorry… fuck, donghyuck,” your cries went straight to his dick, urging him to fuck you harder. he kneaded the flesh soothingly before spanking it again and again until you could make out the imprint of his big hand on your asscheek.

“f-faster, please,” you pleaded in a whine and he tsked, shaking his head, “such a greedy little slut.”

“what would everyone think of you if they could see you so eagerly taking my cock, mm?” donghyuck hummed, “begging for me to fuck you until you can’t walk properly?

shocks of pleasure shot through you, his dirty talk helping you reach your release faster than you anticipated. his grip on you was so tight you were sure you were going to be sore the next day. your moans turned pornographic as you neared your release, your walls squeezed around donghyuck to the point he was unable to move, so he started drawing circles over your sensitive clit to help you get off.

“let go, baby.”

and soon, his touch threw you over the edge, causing your body to shake and a broken moan to fall from your lips, legs weak as your whole weight only relied on your arms for support. he followed shortly after, grunting as he filled you up with his warm and sticky essence.

as he pulled out, a mixture of your slick juices and his seed leaked from your abused hole, dripping down your inner thighs. his fingers slid over to gather the drops of cum and opposite to your assumption, he didn’t push it back inside of you but brought the digits to your face, waiting for you to open your mouth.

“suck.”

and you did, eyes locked with his through the mirror as your tongue swirled around his fingers to lick them clean.

“fuck,” donghyuck sighed, “i didn’t know you were so dirty, sweetheart.”

and the teasing comes back.

“do you want me to remind you how i made you cum in your pants back there in a room full of people?” you rolled your eyes in disbelief and he just let out a breathy laugh.

“whatever. either way, even if they didn’t have the pleasure of fucking you or at least seeing you get fucked, they surely could hear you from how loud you were screaming my name.”

“good thing mark now knows who you belong to,” the words slipped out of his mouth before he could think and both of you shared a look of pure shock.

“did you just mention mark?”

“…no?”

“you did! what the fuck? were you jealous of mark?” you asked, eyes wide as you remembered the disgusted look on his face when you and mark got too touchy with each other during the game.

“i am jealous of mark.”

“what? why?”

“oh my god, you’re so dense.”

“shut up, i’m not.”

“yes, you are. i like you dumbass, that’s fucking why. why wouldn’t i be jealous if you two act like you’re dating but always deny it when questioned? i can give you my hoodies, i can cuddle you and hold your hand, i can spoil you with cute stuff. i can be your boyfriend, it doesn’t have to be him.”

everything was so weird.

you were supposed to be enemies for fucks sake.

but he looked cute with pouty lips.

“well, you sure have got a damn weird way of demonstrating it.”

“shut up, okay?” donghyuck snapped, done with trying to get you to shut the fuck up. “i just didn’t know how to approach you or talk to you at all, alright?” he sighed, a scowl forming on his face. “you always seem to be angry when i’m around.” the change in his voice shocked you, it was much softer now, as if he was afraid of you hearing it.

“hey, don’t beat yourself for it, alright?” you sighed, feeling bad for being so mean to him for no reason. because you really didn’t have a reason. whenever you weren’t at each other’s throats and you got time to observe him from afar, you saw how caring he was with his friends, even if most of the time he annoyed the crap out of them.

donghyuck actually seemed like a good guy… if you ignored his teasing.

maybe you didn’t hate him as much as you thought.

“so, would you be my-,”

suddenly, the sound of banging on the door resonated through the room.

“are you done already? i need to pee.”

you quickly fixed your clothes, embarrassed by the presence of someone outside the door waiting for you and donghyuck to get out and momentarily forgetting about the boy’s proposal. just as you were about to open the door and get yourself the fuck out of the situation, his arms wrapped around your waist to pull you closer and whisper to your ear in a way you could feel your panties get damp once again.

“we’re not done yet, princess.”

–lia:)

[itadorisgf]

creep.

how your boyfriends react when they see someone making you uncomfortable.

fushiguro megumi x gn!reader x itadori yuuji + gojo satoru x gn!reader x nanami kento.

hurt/comfort(?), non-consensual groping, cursing, poly relationships

— fushiguro megumi + itadori yuuji.

the train is crowded with not much wiggle room at all. it’s to be expected of taking the train at this time. fushiguro and itadori are both nearby, the three of you are pressed closely to one another among the throng of other passengers.

you have your hand wrapped around a metal pole to stabilize you from any sudden jolts the train may make. you idly listen to fushiguro and itadori chat, worn out from the day’s outing and content to zone out to the sound of your boys’ voices.

your eyes widen in surprise and your grip around the pole tightens when you feel a hand roughly squeeze your rear end. fushiguro and itadori’s attention snap to your form when they hear the startled gasp that escapes your lips.

itadori’s concerned gaze remains on you while fushiguro’s eyes land on the individual standing behind you on the crowded train car. it doesn’t take long for fushiguro to connect the dots of what’s occurred.

meanwhile, itadori’s still confused. he questions if you’re alright, but you’re still shocked by what just happened to answer him properly. although it’s difficult with so many people on the train, fushiguro gently grabs your wrist until you’ve switched spots and you’re now standing right beside itadori.

fushiguro’s eyes harden and his lips flatten into a tight line as he stares at the older man who dared to lay his hand on another person (his significant other) without their consent. normally, fushiguro would hate to make a scene in public, but he can make an exception for today.

“apologize.”

fushiguro’s grip on the older man’s shirt is firm as he harshly tugs on it. the man’s lecherous smile morphs into a surprised expression, caught off-guard by fushiguro’s actions. by this point, itadori has caught on to what the man has done. his arm is wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close to his side as he watches the situation unfold before him.

“why should—ngh”

the man is cut off when fushiguro tightens his grip, causing the man to stumble a bit. the other passengers look on, aware that a conflict is arising in front of them. the man flounders while fushiguro is the visage of calmness. his eyes reveal the sheer amount of anger he’s feeling at the moment.

“i said apologize.”

the man attempts to break away from fushiguro’s unrelenting hold. “fuckin’ let go of me—fuck! fine! i’m sorry. now fucking let go, man.”

the man trips when fushiguro suddenly lets go and scampers to exit the train as quickly as he can. the prying eyes of the crowd go back to what they were previously doing when the realize that the situation is now dealt with.

fushiguro turns back around to face you and itadori. your face is pressed into itadori’s chest as his arm is now protectively slung around your frame.

“i hate the city,” fushiguro flatly says. it elicits a soft snicker from itadori and a small smile from you. fushiguro slots himself by your side and slips his hand into yours.

luckily, the rest of the train ride passes by smoothly.

— gojo satoru + nanami kento.

as the head of the gojo clan and the strongest sorcerer, gojo’s required to go to stiff clan gatherings every so often. the three of you dislike going, but understand that gojo has certain obligations he must attend to. well, you and nanami understand, gojo doesn’t. (he’d much rather just shirk his duties like usual, but you and nanami have to stress how important it is that he goes, even if neither of you wish to attend either.)

when you arrive at the gathering, you three are swept off into different directions. gojo bounces from person to person, intent on making their lives as miserable as possible to make them regret making his attendance mandatory. nanami is stolen away to chat with some younger jujutsu sorcerers who seem very interested in making conversation with him. you sigh quietly to yourself and make your way over to the refreshment table.

if you’re going to be stuck at this place for the next few hours, you might as well make the most of it. while you’re perusing the table, attempting to decide on whether you wanted to snack on something or drink something, a voice startles you from your train of thought.

“now, why’s someone as lovely as you all alone, sweetheart?”

you restrain the urge to outwardly cringe at the blatant attempt at flirting. you don’t recognize the man speaking to you, but you can guess that he’s probably a member of one the higher up clans. he’s not unattractive (nowhere as attractive as gojo or nanami), but you already dislike him. the certain air of arrogance and superiority that surrounds him is suffocating.

“i’m just grabbing a refreshment before i meet up with my boyfriends.”

you make sure to emphasize the last word as you turn your attention back to face the table. you decide that a snack sounds good for now, reaching out to pluck one of the finger foods provided off of the tray.

“strange, but i don’t see either of them around.”

he roughly loops his hand around your wrist. you recoil when you feel his breath hit your skin.

“how about you and i get out of here?”

you’re this close to fucking breaking this bastard’s entire arm for putting his fucking hands on you when a familiar voice fills the air.

“how about you let go of my lovely partner?”

gojo’s voice is light and airy as it normally is, but there’s a distinct bite to his tone. a clear warning that it would be in this man’s best interest to release you. when his grip on you slackens, you’re quick to tear your wrist away from him.

“such unbecoming behavior coming from the zenin clan.”

you startle for a brief moment at the sound of new voice coming from behind you, but you relax when you realize who it is. nanami’s expression is impassive, but there’s a tight clench of his jaw that indicates his underlying anger.

the man rolls his eyes and has the audacity to scoff before retreating to a different corner of the room, far away from your group. you can make out faint muttering underneath his breath, something along the lines of “fuckin’ gojo and nanami of all people.”

“are you alright, love?”

gojo wraps his arms around your waist from behind, fitting his face into the curve of your neck as nanami stands in front of you with a concerned expression.

“i’m alright, kento,” you assure him, leaning back into gojo’s chest. “i was more annoyed than anything.”

the crease in between nanami’s brows smooths out upon hearing your response. gojo loudly huffs from behind you. you tilt your head to get a better look at his face.

“this is why i hate coming to these,” gojo childishly complains against your skin. you laugh and press a kiss to gojo’s jaw. mentally, you and nanami agree with gojo’s statement.

“how about we leave early then, satoru?”

his demeanor brightens and without another word, gojo’s dragging you and nanami out of the building by the hand. nanami chides gojo for his behavior, but he can’t hide the small upturn of his lips.

you three end up eating at some hole-in-the-wall for the night.

the next morning, gojo earns himself a lecture from the higher ups about how he can’t just walk out from “important clan gatherings”.

[sturchling]

I've read your stories where the Justice League is banned from Paris, and I love them! What if the League and the Avengers were in the same world, but the Avengers didn't ignore them while the Justice League did? I imagine that Steve would convince Tony to help because these are KIDS, like Peter. So, the Avengers help, but since the League and Avengers are at odds, the Avengers don't tell the League. Team Miraculous is perfectly fine with that. (Big Team Miraculous and more users if possible!!)

Team Miraculous had practically begged the Justice League for help when Hawkmoth was still active. But they received no response. But the Justice League weren’t the only ones they reached out to. They also sent the same video asking for help to Tony Stark, who everyone knew was Iron Man, hoping the Avengers might help them. They sent the video with little hope for a response. After all, the Justice League had ignored all their requests for help. Why would the Avengers be any different?

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

Tony Stark received hundreds of emails a day. Emails from people at Stark Industries, SHIELD, and the avengers. But he didn’t often get emails from an unknown address from Paris. That is what initially caught his attention. The message was simple. The subject simply said Avengers, please help us. When Tony opened the email, there was no text to it. Just a video attachment. Tony called the team into the meeting room and played the video. 

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

They watched the video as two kids in animal themed costumes explained what was happening in Paris. These kids couldn’t be more than 14. When the video was over, the group sat in silence for a moment before Steve spoke up. “We need to help them.” Tony sighed, turning to face Steve. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but we can’t just go to Paris and help. Not when they are still discussing the accords. We can’t go unless France’s government asks for our help.” Steve stands up from his seat, angry. “So what? We just ignore this? You heard what they said, France wants to keep this under wraps so they don’t lose the tourists that come to Paris. They aren’t going to ask for our help, then they would have to publicly admit there is a problem!” Tony stands up too, walking towards Steve. “I know that! But our hands are tied. With the UN still discussing the accords, we can’t go making the situation worse then it already is!” Steve rolls his eyes and starts to walk away in frustration. “Oh come on Tony! Those are kids! Those are KIDS who are having to fight against a terrorist all on their own with no training! They need help! If it were Peter in Paris, would you leave him to face this alone?” That made Tony pause. In the quiet, Thor decided to make his opinion known. “I also feel that we should help them. I am familiar with these miraculous. The power they grant users is great. A terrorist powered by one is a sobering thought. I am especially familiar with the Black Cat miraculous, as is Loki. And I do not believe either of us wants to be on Plagg’s bad side again. We should help these children immediately.” Tony just sighs, shaking his head. “I feel like I am going to regret this. Fine, lets go to Paris.”  The Avengers quickly made preparations to go to Paris. Before they left they sent an email back to the kids who sent the video to let them know that help was on the way.

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

Marinette and Adrien could hardly believe the email in their inbox. They hadn’t expected to hear back from the Avengers so soon, or hear that they were taking this seriously. This is incredible! By now, team Miraculous had revealed their identities to each other to make it easier to communicate to each other. Marinette sent out a message in their group chat. Group project meeting. Meet in the usual place, 30 minutes. Half an hour later, team Miraculous was meeting in their secluded area of Chloe’s hotel suite, which had been sound proofed so no one would hear them. Marinette and Adrien filled them all in on what had happened involving the Avengers and everyone was excited. They would finally get some help with Hawkmoth after all these years. It wasn’t long before they received another email saying that the Avengers had landed and asking where to meet. Marinette sent them the location of a secluded warehouse to meet in and Team Miraculous transformed, leaving to meet the Avengers.

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

The Avengers weren’t sure what to expect when they arrived at the abandoned warehouse the kids asked them to meet at. But they certainly weren’t expecting a small army of kids in costume, in addition to the two that sent the video. In addition to the original two dressed as a ladybug and cat, there appeared to be a fox, turtle, bee, horse, snake, monkey, dragon, and bunny. And they were all children. The girl in the ladybug outfit and boy in the cat outfit stepped forward. “I am Ladybug and this is Chat Noir. We lead the miraculous team. Thank you for your help.” Steve stepped forward, being the first to recover from the shock of seeing this army of children. “We are glad to help. We have the basic idea of what is happening from your video, but could you explain in some more detail what the situation is?” Ladybug spent the next few hours going over everything with the Avengers, giving a more detailed picture of the ongoing battle with Hawkmoth and Mayura for the last few years. 

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

At the end of the explanation, the Avengers are horrified. The situation is worse than they thought. And the Justice League had been ignoring these kids? That just made it worse. Tony, his head still reeling from all the information, said “I am glad we got your message when we did, seems things are pretty bad here. We can help you track down this Hawkmoth and end this. But we need to keep our involvement in this quiet. With the UN still discussing the accords, we aren’t technically supposed to be here.” Ladybug looks visibly confused, asking, “Accords? What are the accords?” The Avengers fill them in on the accords and what all it means for them. 

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

Ladybug was shocked that they would even consider agreeing to this. “You all agreed to this? To be monitored by the UN and restricted in what you can do. And anyone that they view as a threat could be imprisoned just because of that, regardless of if they had done anything wrong. That is insane! The Avengers I know wouldn’t agree to that. I remember watching you Agent Romanoff, testify before congress and challenge them to put you in prison. The world needs the Avengers and other heroes to be able to act in a crisis without worrying about if a panel will let them.” Tony tried to argue his point, and Marinette continued to say it was wrong. The two argued for a while, which was concerning for both team Miraculous and the Avengers to watch. But by the end of it, Marinette being Marinette, had managed to convince Tony that he was wrong and that they wouldn’t agree to the accords. The Avengers were a little shocked that this young girl had changed Tony’s mind, but you wouldn’t hear them complaining. With all the discussions out of the way, they got to work.

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

Tony got Jarvis to start running analyses to see who in Paris was likely to be Hawkmoth. It had to be someone with a lot of time on their hands, a large amount of resources, and had to have a supply of these butterflies he was using. He also compared these results with the typical behavioral profile of a terrorist like this. Then the Avengers went over the list with Team Miraculous and started eliminating suspects. Anyone that didn’t already have an alibi was tailed by either Hawkeye or Black Widow until they were cleared. Meanwhile, the rest of the Avengers helped train the kids in combat and how to work as a team in the field so that they were better able to face akumas. It took weeks, but soon, they were down to only one subject. Gabriel Agreste. Adrien didn’t want to believe it, but as the weeks went by and neither Hawkeye or Black Widow were able to clear him, it became clear to Adrien that his father was likely Hawkmoth.

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

 By now, the Avengers knew of the kids identities. All the Avengers felt bad for Adrien, and also didn’t want him to stay in that house a minute longer. Besides how his father treated him, having another miraculous user in that house, especially the Black Cat that Hawkmoth craved was a recipe for disaster. So Tony had his lawyers help Adrien file for emancipation. That made Gabriel frantic. He didn’t want to lose his control over Adrien. He was so close to getting the miraculous and his wish. He could have his family back again. But that can’t happen if Adrien is emancipated and leaves. Gabriel became more desperate with his akumas and became sloppy. That was his downfall.

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

By the end of the week, the Avengers and team Miraculous were facing down Hawkmoth. By this point, Hawkmoth was so frantic, that they fight was easily won. When he revealed why he did all this and what happened to Emilie, Master Fu, who had come to collect the missing miraculous, was able to reverse the damage done by the peacock miraculous on both Emilie and Nathalie. Gabriel was arrested, as was Nathalie, and Adrien was ecstatic to be with his mother again. 

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

Once Hawkmoth was defeated, news of what had been happening in Paris spread like wildfire. It wasn’t long before the Justice League swooped in to do damage control. They landed in the middle of the city, already starting their spiel about how they were here to help with any damage and chaos from the final battle. But they were shocked to see the city in perfect condition, and the police surrounding them, telling them to leave. Over the heads of the police, they see the members of the Avengers standing with some kids in animal costumes. Two of the kids are familiar, from the videos asking for help all those years ago. Batman fumed at seeing the other group of heroes allowed to be in the city while they were being forced out. “Why are we not allowed here, but they are!? They aren’t local heroes.” The girl in a Ladybug themed costume stepped forward through the crowd, “They get to be here because they actually answered our call for help and were instrumental in the defeat of Hawkmoth. They arrived before the ban, followed my team’s lead, and respected the wishes of my team as well as the city. They proved to be good allies. You and your group on the other hand, ignored and denied our requests and now want to come in and do damage control. Now you leave, or we will make you.” While some of the members of the Justice League have the good sense to look embarrassed and back down, Batman got right in Ladybug’s face. “And how are you going to make us little girl?” Ladybug turned around and walked back to her team, not sparing Batman another glance. Batman looked smug, thinking he had made her back down. But when she got back to her team, she turned to the horse themed hero. “Pegasus.” Without another word, the horse sprang into action. All the Justice League heard was him call out “Voyage” before they were back in the watchtower, wondering what had just happened.

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

Finally, it was time for the UN meeting on the accords. When asked if they would sign, the Avengers officially declined to sign the accords so they could actually help in Paris. Team Miraculous watched the live coverage as all of the Avengers said they wouldn’t sign the accords. The head of the UN panel stood up, angry at their defiance. “Maybe we should just go ahead and toss you all in a cell. Clearly you are a threat to the world. While we were discussing these very accords, you went into France without permission and acted as the Avengers. You cause untold damage in each fight, do nothing to fix the damage, and won’t allow for a little over sight to make sure you don’t destroy everything.  Seems pretty dangerous to me.” There were mummers of agreement through out the room. Tony was the last one to speak. “You won’t put us in a prison cell. Here’s why. As Agent Romanoff once said, you all need us. Yes, we have made the world a more vulnerable place. But, we are the ones most qualified and able to defend it. So, if you want to arrest us, do it. You know where to find us. But then you will be even more vulnerable to even bigger threats than us.” Angry voices sounded from around the room, but the Avengers just turned and left. Most other heroes followed suit, officially stating that they would not be signing the accords. Eventually, the UN realized that if they arrested every hero that didn’t sign the accords, they would have no one left to defend the Earth and they dropped the issue. 

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

Things quickly returned to normal, for both team Miraculous and the Avengers. Team Miraculous was happy to have defeated Hawkmoth and not have to constantly guard their emotions. The emotional toll on the citizens of Paris was huge, but the Avengers weren’t done helping. Tony Stark brought in several therapists and took care of all the bills, so all of Paris could have access to mental help as needed, after enduring the trauma of living under Hawkmoth’s threats for years. And the Avengers kept on being heroes and helping everyone they could all over the world. And team Miraculous would often give them a hand with missions as needed. The Avengers and team Miraculous remained close allies after everything and were happy to have helped each other.

[viperbarnes]

The Long Last Summer

[B. Barnes] Oneshot

40s Post-War AU

Summary: With Steve off in America again, Bucky finds himself doing his own version of a USO tour through Italy, boosting morale and friendship, or so they tell him. However, a new stationing in the tiny town of Montecarra gives him more reason to want to stay, when he becomes quickly whisked away by wild, carefree and exuberant you.

Warnings: language, smut, mentions of the war, awful awful Italian probably. The reader has a name, but it's still written as a reader insert.

Note: The reader/character in this fic is a black woman. This fic was originally uploaded elsewhere, so if you're a part of the small audience who read it originally please don't panic, it isn't stolen lol. The story is almost entirely spoken in Italian, but doing italics for every conversation was annoying, so just assume that unless otherwise stated! Thank you for reading!

Words: 19.5k [This is very long.... Sorry...]

The hot Italian sun beats down on the town below, the occasional breeze carried overland from the nearby ocean to the west might have been a blessing if that too weren’t humid and warm. Bucky Barnes thinks it should be a sin for it to be so hot so early in the morning, but he’s long past complaining about it. Leaning against his car door, stopped on a hill overlooking the town of Montecarra, Bucky takes another drag of his cigarette before stomping it out. At least he hadn’t woken up in a filthy, sweltering trench, surrounded by hot bodies after another restless night of gunfire filled dreams. At least he was only required to wear his uniform during official ‘work’ hours.

Giving the town, his newest home, one last look, Bucky gets back in the car and makes his way down.

Being a core member of The Howling Commandos these past years, Bucky had earned himself a certain amount of celebrity, both in America and abroad. Especially in Italy. Given that Steve had returned to the States already, and Bucky had expressed some minor interest in staying in Europe a while longer, Colonel Phillips had happily assigned him as a ‘morale liaison’ while the US and other allies sorted out the peace treaties and demilitarisation of Europe.

It made as much sense to Bucky then as it did now. He had come to realise that ‘morale liaison’ was just jargon for ‘dancing, handshaking, smiling, posing monkey’, seeing as most of his time the past two years had been spent shaking hands while smiling and posing for various photos. Usually with politicians. Bucky hated politicians.

Luckily, his newest post, Montecarra, was far more what Bucky had thought he’d be doing when Phillips had given him his orders; helping people rebuild and reclaim their lives in a post-fascist Italy. As he drives through the small town, Bucky thinks briefly that the bulk of it seemed to be almost entirely untouched by the war, the classic Italian architecture and warm coloured buildings homey and welcoming, the cobbled stone streets and walkways looking every part the idyllic Tuscan town, but then he sees it.

Toward the edges of town, Bucky’s eyes catch on a shattered stone building, utterly destroyed. It’s a small ways from the town itself, a little field between it and the nearest houses, and he can’t help but already feel grateful for the fact it looked to be the only place that had been hit by the violence, though he doesn’t deny the unseen scars that no doubt linger on the people themselves.

He quickly looks away and continues on to his residence.

There was no army base or fortifications in Montecarra, the nearest being in Florence, but The people had kindly offered up a small, newly unowned cottage for the military to house any visiting soldiers in during their stay. When he finally gets to be shown around by the nearest neighbour, a friendly older woman, he’s glad that for the time being, he has it to himself.

He gets himself settled, partially unpacks his bags before getting bored and making his way out to the blooming garden, camera in hand. It had been a gift from Steve, sent for his birthday the previous year when the two had not been able to reunite, and although Bucky had much preferred putting pencil to paper before he’d owned his own camera, he’d found in recent months, as the cold receded and the sun came out, he’d picked up a knack for photography.

The fact that this model was an ‘instant’ model, making it so that after each photo he took, a little slip of paper would spit out and slowly develop the image, certainly aided his newfound love for the hobby. When he had been a kid, his Ma would take the family to have their pictures taken once a year, and the results always took days or weeks.

Lifting the camera to his eye, Bucky peeks through and aims it at a tall bushel of bougainvillea, the bright red against the butter-coloured walls of his cottage making him wish the photos weren’t just black and white.

He snaps a few more floral shots, wondering absently if he’ll be able to buy more photo paper in town. With the sun still high in the sky, he decides that he may as well take a short walk, if not to introduce himself to some of the locals, then to answer his question.

Honestly, the unendingly friendly reception he’d received everywhere he went never ceased to surprise him. Two years ago Italy had been the enemy or the soldiers and government at least. For the most part, the people caught in the crossfire had been weary and scared, but helpful where they could be to Allied soldiers. Still, the warmth they seemed to hold him, and other allied soldiers with was always a little startling at first.

By the time he makes it to the centre of town, he’d been kissed on his cheeks more times than he could count, but interestingly, the people of Montecarra weren’t as clingy as he’d found some other towns and cities… After greeting him, they’d happily left him alone, though with numerous and repeated offers to have him for dinner.

Once unable to stand doing nothing at all, and always on the go, the young man Bucky had once been, had evolved into a quieter, more solitary version of himself. He still liked to have fun, mind you, he’d learnt to take enjoyment and pleasure where he could in the army, but his sniper’s life had taught him contentedness with his own company. Bucky was fine being alone, without chatter or noise to distract him. He’d come to prefer it, actually.

Bucky finds that Montecarra’s central space was a large set of four courtyards, separated by various important municipal buildings and shops, and at the centre point, an old communal well that had been made into a fountain. Without thinking, Bucky lifts his camera to snap a shot of the fountain. He loved New York more than anything, and he couldn’t wait to return home, but damn if he hadn’t fallen hard for European architecture.

He’s still waving the little piece of photo paper back and forth to help it develop when loud laughter and the familiar noise of children playing reaches his ears. It startles him slightly, Montecarra wasn’t exactly sleepy, but it was quiet, and the residence all seemed to be of an older sort, he hadn’t seen many children yet, though a look at his watch tells him that might have been due to school.

A small gaggle of children of various ages come skipping into view across from the fountain, chatting loudly and seemingly unaware of the previous peace that had reigned in the town square. Unlike in New York, however, Bucky notices not a single patron of the nearby outdoor restaurant throws them dirty looks or hisses at them to quiet down, if anything, the people nearby pause to watch for a few seconds, not with disdain written on their faces, but soft, gentle smiles, before they return to their business.

A voice calling out from the back of the group, noticeable for its maturity in comparison to the children’s voices, catches Bucky’s attention and he lets his gaze skip over the scene until it lands on you, and suddenly, he’s breathless.

Bucky Barnes had seen a lot of beautiful women in his time, and had been lucky enough to know a number of them too, but you, you are something else entirely.

It’s your smile he notices first, plush rosy brown lips pulled wide in a joyful grin, so magnetising he finds himself unable to look away. Your hair is long, curly and dark, brushed into waves that the humidity and breeze seemed set on ruining, and with one hand you secure your wide brim sun hat as you chase the kids. Your white blouse is laced around the open collar and both it and the bright yellow of your skirt stand out against your syrupy brown skin, smooth and a little shiny from the sun.

“Here! Roberto, Norma, come sit here a moment! Look at the fountain!” You beckon the children, two strays in particular, over toward the fountain, and much like Bucky, the kids seem magnetised to you as well. You float right up to the water, sitting on the edge as the children all gather around, still chatting and playing loudly, though a little more orderly now.

Bucky watches you swipe a hand through the cool water, smiling and speaking animatedly with one of the children. He wonders if you were perhaps their teacher, but he’s snapped away from his thoughts a moment later.

“That man has a camera! Look!”

Bucky blinks, tearing his eyes from you, even as the children, and you, all now turn your attention to him in varying shades of wonderment. He’s still a small distance away, but it doesn’t matter as not even a second later, he’s being swamped by the pack of energetic youngsters.

“Are you a photographer?!”

“Can I see it?!”

“Will you take my picture!?”

The last request sets off a frenzy, the rest of the children all joining in to ask for their picture taken, and honestly, Bucky doesn’t even think he has enough paper for that.

“Hey! Mascalzoni! Leave the poor man alone!” You appear then, hands on your hips, not even two meters away and Bucky thinks he could faint.

“Oh, they’re—” He cuts himself off, switching to Italian.

“They’re fine, really… I just don’t think I have the photo paper for it…” He explains, trying his best to look you in the eye, but not quite making it. You cock your head in sympathy, and clap once, getting the children’s attention once more.

“Come on, stop it. Can’t you see you’ve scared him?!” You say playfully, though Bucky wants to correct that it isn’t them he’s scared of.

“How are we supposed to get more tourists to Montecarra if you’re all scaring them away, huh?!” You continue, crossing your arms and the kids seem to relent somewhat, whining a little as they back up from Bucky. You give him another, apologetic smile.

“Come along, you all better get home before your mothers’ tan your hides!” You say, making a shooing motion that makes Bucky second-guess his teacher theory. Before any of them can begin to move though, he takes half a step forward, holding up his camera.

“Wait, I can— I can take a photo of you all together…” He says, and watches as even your face lights up, though as the children all begin to excitedly gather in front of the fountain, you step away, to his side.

“You don’t want to be in it?” He asks, throwing you a sideways glance and yep, you’re still just as pretty as before. You smile and shake your head.

“No. Not this time.” he doesn’t know what you mean by that, but focuses back on the children, raising the camera and snapping a shot of the children, smiling brightly.

Chaos ensues once again when the paper pops out of the bottom, further exciting the group as Bucky attempts to hold the picture out of their reach while it develops, unable to stop himself from chuckling at how spirited they were. It had been a long time since he’d seen any kid so carefree. Perhaps that was why the townspeople were so unphased by their noise earlier.

After the picture is passed around for all to see, you clear your throat and jerk your head away again.

“Go on, clear out now.” Far more happily the children bid each other goodbye, a few moving in pairs or trios as they split off in separate directions.

Bucky is all too aware that you’re still standing near him, and he focuses on cleaning his camera lens with his sleeve.

“Thank you.” You say kindly, with a slight bow of your head, and he finds himself shrugging and shaking his head.

“It’s alright, really.” he pauses, and then;

“Are you their teacher?” He doesn’t expect the surprised laugh you let out, shaking your own head vigorously.

“Hell no. I don’t have the patience for that! We were just walking the same way.” Bucky blinks, not expecting your language, though he finds it endearing, a little more grounding. He laughs.

“I see.”

“You’re the soldier, yes? From America?” The subject change catches him out for a moment, but he’s nodding a moment later.

“Sergeant James Barnes, ma’am.” He almost salutes, doesn’t and then thinks better of it, giving you one anyway. You cock your head at him, an amused smile pulling at your lips.

“I thought soldiers wore uniforms?” You fold your hands in front of you, and Bucky blinks, down at his casual civilian clothes, and then back at you.

“Oh, I, well, I do, but only when I’m working, these days…” You laugh good-naturedly at his awkward delivery.

“I was only teasing. I’ve heard from Rome that soldiers spend just as much time out of their uniforms as in them.” You say it easily, with a playful chuckle, but the risque connotations don’t go over his head, his eyebrows lifting high in his surprise.

Were you… flirting…? Or was this just how you were?

“Well, Sergeant Barnes, it was lovely to meet you.” You’re stepping back, giving him another smile (were you always smiling? He wants to know, now), and a little wave before you begin to turn. Bucky flounders at your fast retreat and panics.

“Uh, wait!” You look back, and he swallows.

“What’s… what’s your name?” You chuckle and push your hair behind your shoulder.

“Cristina.” You tell him and he repeats it, trying to roll the ‘r’ like you do, which makes you laugh again.

“People usually just call me Nina.” You offer a moment later and Bucky nods, before giving you his own, more commonly used nickname.

“Bucky?” You repeat, almost unsure, but when he nods, mouth dry at hearing his name on your lips, you smile and nod.

“Bucky. I will see you around, Bucky.” And with that, he watches dumbly, awestruck in his place as you float out of the plaza.

—-

The warm breeze carries through the open windows of your house, sending the scents from the kitchen below wafting around the rooms. You’d already finished your work for the day, and the chores your mother assigned you, and with a slight pep in your step, you finish tying the scarf around your hair and grab your book.

“Mama? I’m going to read!” You call out, pausing for a moment to listen for her reply. You hear a faint humming above the radio and quickly take your leave, skipping down the front steps of your home and out of the walled front courtyard.

Montecarra is hot and warm, like it had been every other day this week, but you don’t mind. The streets you pass through on the way to your nook are quiet, with only the occasional Nonna in her garden, or returning from the markets. There had been more people here once, a long time ago, and in your childhood days you remember visitors, passing through and admiring your home on their way to other places. You missed that deeply, but push it from your mind, trying not to sour your day at the thought of your already sleepy town becoming sleepier.

You reach your normal place quickly, little plaza toward the outskirts of town, many of the houses here empty now. One of the homes, a double storied one like your own, has a tall garden wall that sits in the shade of the tall tree behind it. Midway through the wall, high enough to take some effort to climb, sit a series of three empty archways, glassless windows that give a view of the overgrown garden within, and from the other side of the little square beyond.

Nobody came to this part of town, not anymore, and in recent years, you’d found it the perfect place to sit unbothered. Tucking your book under your arm, you hitch your skirt up a little, and use one of the roots that climbs and decorates the wall with green ivy as a foothold. The archway isn’t high, but you certainly couldn’t get to it without a little help.

Once situated, you lean back against the pillar, bringing your feet up in front of you, and rest your book against your thighs and knees. You lose yourself quickly in the words, devouring the stories of far away places, detectives and mystery and murder. When the Nazi’s had been here, you hadn’t been allowed to freely enjoy such things. You’d been hidden away, scared everyday would be your last, but it had never come. They had left, and you had been safe again once more.

It was why you enjoyed sitting outside, in the sun and warm, basking in a world that was purely yours again.

Well, not just yours.

A quiet, but pointed cough makes you jump slightly, and you whip your head to find the source, shutting your book on instinct before your eyes find him, and you smile.

“Good Afternoon, Sergeant Barnes!” You greet, and the man returns your smile, lifting his hand briefly. You had known he was coming of course, your whole town did. He was helping the men rebuild the old schoolhouse, though he seemed to have finished that task for the day, as you had finished yours.

He was a handsome man, with dark hair and blue eyes, his pale skin lightly tanned on his face and arms from days in the Italian sun. He was young, though older than you, likely nearing his late twenties if you were correct. You hadn’t known who he was during the war, but afterwards, you’d had plenty of newspaper fodder to read. You think most of it must have been trash though, because the man the magazines and gossip columns had labelled as a charming, suave ladies man could not be the same one that stood before you now.

“Bucky. Bucky is fine, Senora Cristina.” He replies, his eyes dropping a little as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Well then you must call me Nina.” You reply, keeping up your smile for when he looks back at you. When he realises you haven’t looked away from him, he quickly averts his gaze again, but clears his throat and looks around the empty plaza, waving a hand.

“Quiet spot?” He asks, and you turn from where your back is pressed against the brick, swinging your legs over the side of the wall to face him properly. You nod.

“Yes. The people who lived in this part left. We don’t know if they’ll come back or…” You trail off, pursing your lips briefly, but shake your head. No. No time to dwell.

“It’s a good place to come to be alone.”

“Oh, I can— I can leave if you’d lik—” Bucky’s face falls into anxiety stricken concern as he gestures with his thumb toward the little road you think he must have come from, but you cut him off quickly, laughing.

“I was not attempting to chase you away!” You tell him, and he drops his hand back to his side. For a few seconds he just looks at you, like he’s unsure of what to say, and so you fill the silence the best you can.

“How do you like Montecarra?” Bucky nods quickly, his body language immediately relaxing somewhat. You wonder if you make him nervous because he’s unsure how to speak to women, or if it might be something else.

“It’s beautiful. I haven’t been able to stop looking, you know? We don’t have towns like this where I’m from.” You smile at his clear enthusiasm, and cock your head. You’d never been to America, you’d never even really been more than a few miles from your home, so you can’t imagine what towns must look like there.

“The people are friendly, I mean, everyone is friendly everywhere, but the people here are… they don’t seem to want to be around me twenty-four-seven.” He adds, and then clamps his mouth shut, as if he’d forgotten who he was talking to. You think maybe he hasn’t been around friends in a while. You shrug, and chortle.

“Oh, that’s just how we are. My Papa used to say that in the cities, nobody can leave each other alone because they don’t make real connections… but here and other small towns, we’re all we have, and after a while, you just get sick of each other.”

Bucky laughs, loudly and heartily, and you think it is a lovely sound. He says something in English, you think you hear ‘christ’, but he sobers, still smiling.

“I’d say that’s about right.”

“Though, you should be wary of signora Cavalli… she’s like a venus flytrap, you know?” You say seriously, but with a conspiratorial edge so that he knows you are only mostly joking. Bucky cocks his head in confusion, but chuckles.

“A what?!”

“A venus flytrap! You know! It’s a plant that looks all bright and colourful, but when bugs land on it it snaps shut!” You clap your hands together in demonstration.

“And then it eats them.”

“Are you… are you telling me signora Cavalli is going to eat me?” Bucky asks, eyebrows high and you take a moment to dramatically look him over.

“No. I don’t think you are her type. But she will start a conversation that will not end until either you or her dies, and trust me, she’s really old.” Bucky laughs again, hand on his belly this time, his head thrown back again, and you can’t help but break ‘character’ to laugh with him.

“Right. Avoid signora Cavalli. Gotcha.” He says as he calms, and again, he seems to have relaxed even more, the little pull that you had noticed between his brow yesterday, and earlier, even when he wasn’t frowning, had all but disappeared.

“Sounds like I need your guidance here. Clearly.” He continues, and you can’t help but feel excited by the prospect. You nod vigorously, and hop down from your ledge.

“Oh, definitely. I have lived here my whole life, I know all there is to know!” You tuck your book back under your arm and step nearer.

“I can show you around! There is more to Montecarra than there looks!” You pause and shrug.

“Well, a little more, at least.” Bucky appears torn for a moment, his face scrunching back into a polite concern as he holds his hands up.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, signora, I mean, Nina…” You roll your eyes and fold your arms over your chest.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, signore, but there isn’t exactly anybody else my age around here… really you’d be doing me the favour…” He opens his mouth, but you quickly beckon him in a direction before he can argue, and you hear a faint sigh, and a few seconds later he’s matching your easy pace.

“I did notice that, actually…” He confirms, and you feel his gaze on the side of your face. His hands are back in his pockets, and he walks a respectable distance next to you.

“Well, there weren’t all that many to begin with but all the boys went off to fight, and the girls either got married and moved away, or left to study somewhere else.” You try to keep your voice light and airy, try not to betray your jealousy or sadness.

You had wanted to move to Paris and study, or London, anywhere, but the shadows of war had already begun, and it had been too uncertain. Looking back, you were reluctantly glad you had not been elsewhere. Your mother had needed you too much.

You come to another small courtyard, with a large tree at its center. It was one of the oldest in the town, and this part of the village had been built around it, as was obvious from the uneven and cracked stone ground, where the roots had grown large and disruptive.

You sling a hand around the trunk, slowly circling it in a careful swing, and Bucky oddly does the same, moving opposite you, so you are always on different sides. Oftentimes you were called childish or immature by others in Montecarra, though they never meant you harm by it. You were young at heart, and always would be. You know it was not proper for young women your age to be so restless, but you couldn’t sit still. Even just walking normally was a little boring after a while. You think it’s nice that this American man doesn’t ask you to stop or to stand still.

“You didn’t though?” Bucky asks, and then hurries to clarify.

“Get married or move away, I mean.” You chortle and lean a little further forward to see his face better as you both continually circle the tree.

“I was not good enough in school,” You lie.

“And no man would have me.” You laugh as you say it, not really meaning it. When there had been boys around Montecarra, you’d had no shortage of prospects, though how many of them would have actually married you was another question entirely.

Bucky scoffs, making an odd noise in his throat, and he fixes you with a look of disbelief.

“Well I know that can’t be right…” You smile, but look away at his kind words, before another thought hits you, and you stop moving, holding onto either side of the tree as you lean around it slightly.

“Montecarra must be exceptionally boring for you.”

Bucky stops moving too, and instead leans his side against the trunk, arms crossing over his chest as he looks down at you casually, eyebrow raised in question.

“To be in such a small town, with no women who aren’t married. Compared to Paris or Rome, I mean.”

You gasp suddenly then, and quickly switch sides, making Bucky have to turn too, and you can’t suppress your cheeky grin.

“Unless of course it’s married women who you’re after. No need to worry about commitment there.” You wiggle your eyebrows and Bucky’s face turns into a molten mess of amusement and bashfulness, sprinkled with pink cheeks.

He uncrosses his arms awkwardly and clears his throat uncomfortably, and you chortle, shaking your head. There was certainly part of him you could see being charming and suave, but for the most part, Sergeant James Barnes just seemed sweet. Eventually he just laughs too, also shaking his head, and he looks off for a moment, before he carefully turns to mirror your hold on the tree, leaning just slightly around it to look at you.

He still wears a coy look of meekness when he shrugs.

“You’re a woman who isn’t married, aren’t you?” He says softly, carefully, as if he’s not sure how you will respond, and does not wish to offend.

Offence is the last reaction in your mind though, instead you feel as if the world stops for a moment, and all that exists is you, this man, and the tree between you. Despite the carefulness of his words, his expression is a little harder, his gaze locked on yours more intense and you have to force yourself to look away, pulling back from the tree just to catch your breath and your rapidly beating heart.

Perhaps Sergeant James Barnes was sweet, but Bucky Barnes was a little more savoury than that. Suddenly, some of the things you’d read make more sense, and you find yourself reconsidering your interactions. Had he specifically sought you out? Or had he just been wandering and it was a happy coincidence. You lean toward the latter but perhaps he had hoped to see you again after your brief meeting yesterday?

You wipe these thoughts from your mind as Bucky too steps away from the tree, and fix him with an innocent smile and a shrug of your shoulder as you begin stepping backwards, ready to move along.

“I am.” You say simply, unsure of what else you even could say, but the moment seems to pass, and Bucky finally tears his eyes from you, watching his step as he makes to follow you again, down another narrow street.

You make light small talk with him as you move into busier parts of town, still a little shaken from his flirting (if that was what it was). He doesn’t seem to mind, and you realise you don’t need to fill the silence all of the time. He seems content to just look and watch, but when you do speak, to tell him something, or point out a particular shop, he listens carefully.

When you make it to one of the central courtyards of Montecarra, near the fountain where you had met him yesterday, you see that the afternoon sellers have set up at the market stalls where you’d been only this morning, helping sell. Jobs and money were hard to come by in your town, everything was so small and insular, and in the aftermath of the war, people had cared less about money to pay for goods and services, but rather taking care of each other in any way they could.

You were luckier than most towns, you’d been spared the massive damage of other places, but with resources still low, and many people still getting back on their feet, feeding each other had become a community job. Bakers would gladly accept trade for their bread, and doing chores or work for others had become a reliable way to not only give back but to earn too. The shops that had managed to remain open were supportive where they could be, and it made your heart swell several sizes to know that the war had not driven your people apart.

Bucky seems to take in the sights and smells of the markets with a dreamily like gaze, his eyes roaming over the leftover morning breads, some meats and vegetables that had not been bought or traded earlier in the week and where now for sale far cheaper.

Your stomach growls, reminding you that you have not yet eaten since your breakfast, and you groan. Usually you’d have set off home for lunch, or brought something with you, before returning to your nook, but being with Bucky had distracted you.

He looks down at you in response to your groan and you scrunch your nose.

“I would suggest we eat, but I left my purse at home.” You explain. Bucky blinks, and looks over at the food, then back at you.

“If you’re hungry, I can, I have my—” You tune him out accidentally as your mind conjures up a thought, and stop suddenly, reaching out and grabbing Bucky’s arm in excitement. He stops speaking and stares down at you.

“I have a better idea…!” You say, grinning widely, and he cocks his head, looking slightly hesitant.

You release his arm only to grab the rolled sleeve of his shirt, pulling him along after you down a sidetreet.

“What— Where are we going…?” He asks, and then continues.

“And why do I feel like it’s going to be trouble?” You laugh loudly, and throw him a look over your shoulder, releasing his sleeve at last when you’ve led him through a maze of tiny alleys and narrow streets and out to the edge of town, near the main road he’d driven in on.

“Trust me.” You say, drawing out the words long and sing-songy.

“Give me reason to…” He mutters, but when you look over at him again, you can see he’s only playing the part of exasperated, his lips pulled up in the corners, and his eyes amused.

He follows you as you lead him up a long road, well away from town and towards where the fields and fields of orchards and vineyards begin. When you veer off the side of the road, toward one of the wooden fences, he stops.

“What are you doing?” He asks, a little more nervous than before, and you turn to face him fully.

“We’re going into the orchard to pick some fruit.” He fixes you with a squinted stare.

“Something tells me that we’re not supposed to do that…” You roll your eyes.

“Nobody will know. Besides, we’ll only take a few.” You bat your eyelashes the best you can manage and watch his resolve crumble. When he sighs, hanging his head while shaking it, you know you’ve got him, so you smile widely and quickly return to making your way up the fence.

Bucky at first seems concerned with you climb, moving quickly over to attempt to lend you a hand, but you hardly need it, lifting your skirt and easily scaling the posts before you land on the other side. Bucky stares at you for a moment longer, before planting his hands on the top piece of wood, and in one large jump, vaults the thing entirely.

You laugh at the sight, and cock your head.

“They teach you that in the army?” You tease, leading him away from where you might be spotted by the road, and into the thick rows of trees.

“Brooklyn, actually.” He tells you, and you spy him repeatedly looking over his shoulder and around, as if suspecting some kind of ambush. You pause, nearly causing him to walk into you, and put your hand on his arm again.

“Nobody is out here. It gets too hot in the afternoons, so they do all their daily harvesting in the mornings.” Bucky stares down at you, the little crease between his brows returning, but he nods at your words anyway.

Turning away from him, you once more gather up part of your skirt, lifting it well above a decent length, to use as a basket of sorts as you start inspecting some of the goods on ‘offer’.

“The peaches are especially good this time of year.” You say over your shoulder, reaching out to gently squeeze a few hanging from the nearest tree.

“I— What…?” Bucky asks, and when you look back at him, you see the vague pinkness back in his cheeks and refrain from rolling your eyes. Instead, you plaster on an innocent smile and hold up one of the fruits you’d plucked from the branch.

“The peaches. They’re very ripe right now. Montecarra always has the juiciest peaches. You can’t eat them without getting your fingers and mouth all sticky.” You look away then, placing the peach into your skirt and fight yourself to keep from laughing. Bucky remains quiet behind you, until you hear him let out a slightly shaky breath.

“Jesus fucking christ…” He mumbles in English, and you wipe the grin from your face before he can see it, as he finally steps closer to join you.

You end up with a nice collection of peaches, apples and some figs. You don’t take much, just a few, and by the time you’re walking the road back into town, your grumbling stomach is sated. You spent a few hours walking along the rows of trees, just talking and eating.

Before you properly enter Montecarra, Bucky tosses your peach pits, and you watch them fly through the air and disappear into some of the empty fields beyond. He looks down at you with a rather cute, proud and expectant smile, and you nod, clapping just slightly.

“Perhaps they will grow and we will have our own orchard.” You tell him, and he sniffs in amusement.

“Or we’ll have to explain where we got the seeds from in the first place.”

“Or that.” You laugh, nudging his side.

You notice he’d stopped keeping quite as large a distance between you when you walked, though you don’t know if it was conscious or not. The late afternoon sun bathes Montecarra in orange and red and shadows, and by the time you’ve walked across town to where you live, the sunset is well and truly in motion.

Sensing your time has come to an end, Bucky slows slightly, stopping when you turn back to him, and point to your house.

“I live here.” You tell him, and he shoves his hands in his pockets with a nod.

“My mama will expect me to help with dinner.” You explain further, though you aren’t sure why. You didn’t need a reason to part with him, it was early evening now and you’d spent the better half of five hours walking and talking and stealing fruit together.

You see Bucky’s eyes drift behind you, past the open archway of the wall that held your home behind it, and then back to you.

“Thanks for showing me around today. You didn’t have to.” He says and you smile, but shrug.

“Of course.”

You hold his gaze for a moment longer before he nods, pulling a hand from his pocket to give you a parting wave.

“Goodnight.” He says softly, and turns, beginning to make his way back.

You step forward without thinking too much and call out, making him pause and look back at you.

“I— I work in the mornings, but you can always find me at the same place, where I was reading today. From about midday on. I’m always there… if you ever want to see me again.” You try to play it off cooler than you feel, shrugging a bit and giving him a nonchalant grin, but he only watches you.

Just as you start to feel discomfort creep in her shifts, dipping his chin slightly and cocking his head.

“I would like to see you again.” He says at last, and it’s just like earlier, around the tree. You feel a thick tension form between you, and even though he’s several meters away from you now, you feel like he may as well have been directly in front of you.

All you can manage is a nervous chuckle, dropping your eyes to the floor and anxiously tucking some hair behind your ear.

“Okay.” You say, and he must take that as your approval, because he smiles softly, and gives you one last parting nod before he walks away.

You watch him go for longer than you’d like to admit, right up until he disappears and you hear your mama call you from the front door.

—-

You see Bucky most days. After you had finished with your daily workload, you would return as normal to your little archway, only pretending to read until Bucky arrived. Sometimes he would bring his own book, and sit beside you in one of the opposite arches, but most days you spent walking aimlessly, talking about everything and nothing.

He would tell you about New York city, describing the streets and the buildings and the people in such detail you could see it in your mind. He’d show you pictures of places he’d been, other cities and towns in Italy and France and you’d been unable to keep from fawning dramatically over each.

You’d been warned by a few of the older local ladies, that American soldiers were notorious for the dalliances with girls, they’d have them and leave them, moving on to the next place as if it were nothing. But Bucky is different, you think. You weren’t so naive to think a man set on simply chasing what he wanted would change for just you, but Bucky never showed intention to chase. Not really.

He was kind, and sweet, and he never spoke to impress you like you’d seen with some boys before. He listened to you, asked for your opinions on subjects you spoke about and never assumed that you weren’t informed. You had revealed your love for reading to him, and he’d not complained once when you’d ranted for far too long about the plot of your newest book.

He never even tried to hold your hand, which was beginning to trouble you. You had given him plenty of opportunity, walking accidentally too close, and brushing your hand by his just slightly. He’d always apologised or ignored it, and you were becoming frustrated. It was not as if his flirting had stopped, when the opportunity arose he’d coyly spout sweet things that made your stomach churn something awful.

You look up from the page you’d been staring at for the past ten minutes without really seeing it, and blink. Perhaps you were wrong and he was just this way all of the time… but then you remember the moments of intense eye contact when he’d look at you and it felt like nothing else in the world existed at all.

No. no, you decide that perhaps you will have to give him a little push.

“Has d’Artagnan won the heart of Lady Constance yet? Or is love dead?” The voice, his voice, startles you so much you squeak, whipping around to find where Bucky has situated himself against the same wall your archway sits in, leaning on one shoulder with his arms crossed over his chest.

Today he hadn’t changed from his morning’s work, and you have to simply give yourself a moment to take in his uniform. It wasn’t the dress greens you’d seen on men in the newspapers, instead he wears a greeny-brown colour, the material slightly thicker in appearance, rougher almost. In lieu of the long dress coat, he wears a jacket that ends just over where you imagine his belt might be, cinching in his form rather nicely. His shirt bears the same colour as his suit, but his tie is a familiar khaki. Pins and medals and ribbons adorn his chest and you want to inspect each one up close, but you refrain.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya, sweetheart.” He flashes a smile, letting you know he’d noticed your long, admiring stare. Sunglasses cover his own eyes, refusing you access to their cool colour, and you hope he takes them off. Your mouth feels dry but you force yourself to shift to face him, hanging your legs over the side of the wall once more.

“Startled is not scared.” You correct, and watch as he pushes off from the wall casually, making his way to where you sit. He’s tall enough that should he so wish, he could climb into your archway no problem, but he doesn’t, simply resting his folded arms on the ledge next to your legs, looking up at you. At this angle, you can see behind his glasses, to where his eyes fixate on your face.

“You didn’t answer my question?” He probes and you have to think back, unsure of what he’d even asked you.

“Has d’Artagnan won over Lady Constance yet?” He reminds you, reaching out to pluck your copy of The Three Musketeers from your lap and study the cover.

“No, I was going to read more last night but the power went out again and I don’t trust myself not to fall asleep with a candle burning.” You sigh, pushing some hair from your eyes. Bucky places the book gently back down and hums.

“Did you come straight from work?” You ask, switching the subject, and as if he doesn’t notice his clothing, he peeks down at himself briefly, before he cocks his head and gifts you another grin.

“What, can’t a guy wear his uniform around a gal to impress her?” He counters, clearly joking. You scoff anyway and lightly shove his arm.

“I think I’m sick of military uniforms…” You had meant it as a continuation of his joke, but you mean the words far too much to avoid the melancholy that seeps in.

You force yourself to look away, and take a few deep breaths.

Bucky had gotten around to asking you the obvious question of how you, with your brown skin and ‘ethnic’ features, had not suffered during the war. You told him the truth; that your neighbours had hidden you and your mother in attics and basements for nearly five years.

He’d been quiet and pensive on your answer, before telling you he understood why you spent so much time in the ridiculously hot sun. He’d made you laugh, something that you hadn’t ever thought you could do when speaking about your time during the war.

A hand gently, feather-light, curls over your own in your lap, and it takes everything in you not to jump. When you look back at him, his features are sad and serious and he gives your fingers a squeeze.

“Me too, darlin’.”

You want to say something, to maybe turn your hand over and feel his palm against yours, but before you can he removes it from yours, pushing back off the wall.

“I had an idea earlier, when we were clearing the rubble away.” He extends his arm to you, waiting patiently for you to make the short jump down from your perch. Linking your arm with his, he turns you to begin walking, but reaches out and plucks your book from you, tucking it into his jacket.

“An idea? I’m not helping with the mess…” You tease, and he gives you a sideways look.

“No. Riccardo said if I were truly suffering so much in the heat, I should go to the beach.” You perk immediately, gasping softly. You hadn’t been to the beach in so long.

“The beach!” You repeat, and Bucky grins, pride showing clearly through at his effort to delight you.

“I was thinking we could grab my camera, and head on down for the afternoon. I don’t think I have anything to swim in but even just dipping my toes…” You’re already nodding frantically, pulling away from his arm as you clap and do a little jump. You really couldn’t help it, you hadn’t been down to the water in many years.

“Yes! Though, did he tell you how long a walk it was? We should be careful of it getting too dark, my mama has already started—”

“—We can just drive.” Bucky shrugs, and you pause, blinking. Yes, you knew he had a car the army lent him, you’d seen it once or twice even but…

“I’ve…” You trail off and stop speaking entirely, shaking your head, and trying to plaster back on your previous excitement, but Bucky had already seen the slight fall to your face, and he frowns.

“What? What’s wrong?” He steps forward, toward you a little, his hand absently out as if to take your arm, though he drops it a moment later.

“It’s nothing. It’s silly.” You attempt to brush him off but he only moves closer still, right up to you now, and this time, the tension isn’t the same as it had been before.

His head bows down toward you, his frame nearly cocooning yours, if anybody were to be standing behind him, they likely would not be able to see you. His hand does touch your arm this time, comforting, concerned and all of it makes your heart flutter like a million happy butterflies.

“I… It’s just that… I’ve never been in a car before.” You admit, and it really is a silly thing to make such a fuss over. Bucky must breathe a sigh of relief that your dramatics hadn’t been about something more serious, but you don’t see his expression or body language change at all for a few seconds.

“... Ever…?” When he does speak, there’s no amusement in his voice, no awe at how backwards and small your growing up had been that you’d never been in a car. He just… asks.

You shrug.

“We don’t need them here…” His face does relax a little, and he must realise how much he’s been crowding you because he clears his throat and shuffles back slightly, letting his hand leave your arm.

“Well… I think you’ll like it. It’s fast.” He says, before frowning.

“Not— not too fast.” He adds, and you have to smile.

“Well… Why don’t I go put my book away, I’ll find some bread and fixings and you can go change, and I will meet you at your cottage?” You suggest. You didn’t want to go all the way down to the beach without some sort of food, even if he said the trip would be fast in his car. It would also give you a chance to change from your day dress into something that you wouldn’t mind getting a little wet or sandy.

Bucky nods.

“Yeah. Okay. You know where it is?” You roll your eyes.

“Of course.” He hangs his head a little, and lifts his hands in defeat.

“Small town, grew up here. Got it.” You laugh. He’d mentioned once how even though he’d spent his whole life in Brooklyn, knew the streets and the major locations like the back of his hand, there were still places he’d never know where to even start looking for.

You part ways then, and quickly hurry home, the excitement thrumming through your veins once again. Not only were you going to get to go to the beach, but you were going to ride in a car!

You toss your book onto your bed without a second thought, quickly undressing and slipping on a lighter, older dress. It’s faded pale blue told it’s age, but the fabric was thinner, meaning you would have no problem if it got wet. You decide not to bother with stockings, removing both them and your garter in favour of feeling the sand with your bare feet instead, and slip your shoes back on.

Before you leave your bedroom, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror and pause. Turning your face from side to side, you inspect your features carefully. You never bothered with makeup, it was expensive and you’d only end up sweating it off, but your eyes do linger on your lips for a moment.

Creeping upstairs, you sneak into your mother’s bedroom. She was out for coffee at one of your neighbours, still, you feel nervousness take hold when you find the small golden tube in her drawer. Taking a deep breath, you uncap the lipstick and lean forwards for a better view, before carefully swiping the deep red colour across your lower lip. You follow suit with the upper, fixing it here and there, and swiping to try and neaten it up, but when you stand back to inspect yourself, you groan in frustration.

You didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard, and your painted lips and bareface didn’t communicate that at all. Grabbing a tissue, you quickly work to remove the makeup, rubbing at your lips until the bulk of the colour is off. However, when you stop to check again, you find the red has somewhat stained your skin. It only really adds a subtle flushed red over your usually brown lips, but it's still noticeable, and you panic, grabbing another tissue and trying again to no avail.

Time ticks by and you check your watch, not wanting to make Bucky wait too long, and so you pocket the stained tissues and take a last look in the mirror. Your shoddy clean up job would have to do. At least the stains were on your lips and not around them.

In the kitchen you gather up a small selection of items in a basket, just some bread and butter and homemade jam, and tuck an old blanket over the top to secure it all, and so that you could sit on it later. Checking everything one last time, you slide the basket to the crook of your arm and close up your house behind you.

You have to stop yourself from skipping as you make your way through the streets, smiling and greeting those who pass you politely and not like a mad woman. By the time you make it to Bucky’s little cottage, you can already see him leaning back against the car, waiting. He straightens when he sees you, smiling as you slow down, feeling almost hesitant about approaching the car.

“Here, lemme take this…” You let him grab the basket from you and watch him open one of the back doors, placing it on the floor, behind a seat. When he shuts the door again with a click, he turns to look at you in a both expectant and patient manner.

“Shall we?” He gestures to the other side of the car, and you let him lead you around it, swallowing as he pulls open the front side door for you.

“There you go. You know, you’re lucky this is your first car ride. This is a nice car, apparently.” You let Bucky take your hand to help you in, and for the few seconds after he’s shut your door behind you, and you see him jog around to the driver’s seat, you feel an immense awkwardness settle over you.

When he’s climbed in beside you, he gestures to something above your head.

“Here, that’s your seat belt. I know a lotta people don’t bother with them, but… better safe than sorry, right?” You nod, and reach out to grab the little buckle, not realising that the sun had been baking the metal since it had come up.

You rip your fingers away from it with a hiss, cradling them to your chest. Bucky jerks and is immediately leaning over to help you.

“Shit! Sorry, I— I forgot to tell you to be careful of the— here, look, you gotta grab the plastic part…” Your slightly burnt fingers are all but forgotten when Bucky leans right over you, directly into your space as he pulls at the belt, drawing it down and across your body, to your hip.

You watch him click the buckle together and blink up at him when he leans back, face still pulled in a wince.

“You okay?”

“Yes… I just wasn’t expecting it… it didn’t really hurt that much…” He looks like he wants to say something more, his eyes darting down to where you lower your hand back to your lap, and your face, but he eventually settles with a nod.

“Okay. Okay.” He repeats, twisting to face frontwards in his seat again as he begins readying the car. You watch him fiddle with the keys, jumping slightly when the engine roars to life all around you, but you only chuckle at the look Bucky sends you. He lifts one hand from the wheel, to hold onto a tall gear stick in the center console, shifting it a few times before you feel the car begin to move.

Despite your nerves, you can’t help but feel the excitement in your bones, and as Bucky starts to slowly drive along the outer roads of the town, toward the western most side, you can’t stop yourself from staring out the window.

It wasn’t as if you’d never seen any of these places before, but it felt different now. You feel Bucky’s eyes flick over to you every so often, a low chuckle you can barely hear above the car reaching you, but you’re too enthralled to do more than return his smile briefly.

You settle down a bit as you hit the main road. It's still a very new experience to be moving so quickly down a road you’d only ever been along at a walk. Bucky seems content in the quiet, but about halfway through the trip, he changes his hand on the steering wheel, to reach down for something on the side of his door. You watch him fumble for a moment, before he behinds winding a little lever, and you turn your gaze to where the window now rolls down, filling the car with fresh air and the sound of light wind.

“You’ve got one too,” He briefly takes his eyes from the road to point your own window lever out to you, and excitedly, you rush to unwind it. You laugh then, like a child, and lean forward to get a better view, to feel the wind blow over your face. It doesn’t last long though, the second you feel your hair get thrown about, you yip, ducking away with another laugh, but attempting to smooth back your hair again.

Bucky grins over at you, and he shuffles, keeping one hand on the steering wheel, resting his elbow on the window frame casually. With his spare hand, he rests it on his thigh, fingers tapping.

“Lotta women wear a scarf, to keep their hair from getting wrecked…” He tells you, and you make a note for if you ever ride in the car again.

“You were right.” You tell him, finally sitting back in your seat and relaxing. Bucky cocks his head, briefly glancing at you, but mostly he keeps his eyes forward.

“Hmn?”

“I do like this.”

You arrive at the beach in no time at all, the lone western road leading right down to the water. Bucky brings the car to a stop away from the road, on a patch of grass that separates the rest of the land from the sand dunes. On your right, some ways away, the land lifts, creating a rocking cliffside that encloses this section of beach neatly. You knew from your childhood that there were some caves accessible, but you’d always been told to stay well away.

Bucky grabs the basket from the backseat, and you wait for him to catch up with you before you begin treading down onto the sand. The sand is hot and pale, and the smell of sea water calls you, but as much as you’d love to throw yourself toward it, you direct Bucky to a small cropping of rocks and boulders that rested near the dunes, far enough back that the incoming tide wouldn’t reach them, but near enough to the water to be sure your things would be kept safe.

Bucky follows your lead as you kick your shoes off, climbing to the top of the largest boulder easily, it's jagged surface perfect for climbing, as long as you didn’t step on a spike. The boulder stands almost up to Bucky’s chest, and was quite large from a top side view. You beckon him to give you your basket and he watches as you quickly lay out the blanket. When he can see you settling, he joins you, scaling the rock quickly, and taking a seat beside you, where you’ve now begun to pull the bread and spreads from the basket.

“This is a nice spot.” He says scanning the horizon critically. You see his gaze turn up towards the nearby cliffs, scrutinizing them thoroughly with slightly squinted eyes. His face is so intense, you can’t help but look too, wondering what it was he was seeing, but when you turn back to him, he snaps out of it, plastering an easy smile on his face.

You open your mouth to question what he’d been looking at when he grabs the jame, and turns it over in his hands.

“Homemade?” He asks, clearly excited by the prospect, and even though you still want to know what he’d just been thinking about, you let it go, recognising a subject change when you saw one.

“Yes. My mama is very good at cooking. She cooks a lot for other people.” You tell him, buttering a thick slice of bread before handing it to him.

“Do you?” He puts the jam down as he takes the bread and a butter knife from you, beginning to spread some of the sweet, jellied fruit. You scrunch your nose.

“I don’t cook a lot. Mama says I should do more.” You roll your eyes and Bucky snorts.

“Why?”

“So that when I get married my husband won’t be displayed… or something.” You bring one of your legs to a bent position, like you were crossing your legs but only chose to do one, and shift your center of balance to be more comfortable.

The blanket was a nice touch, but it didn’t make the rock you sat on any more homey.

“I don’t understand… why women have to do so much to keep a man. If they love you, shouldn’t they not care about how well you cook or how clean your house is?” You glance at him, genuinely asking. Bucky was, as you well knew, a man, he may have insight you did not. He frowns, mulling over his thoughts as he chews his mouthful.

“I think some guys want a housekeeper more than a partner. I don’t think a lot of mother’s help that, either.” It’s your turn to frown and you cock your head, gesturing he go on. He adjusts a little, and looks off as he speaks, only glancing back at you a few times as he explains.

“It’s a cycle, right? A lady gets married, she looks after her husband, they have kids, a boy and a girl,” He pauses, takes a small bite, chews, swallows and continues.

“Now, as the girl gets older, mother starts to prepare her for when she’ll get married, so she takes on some of the household chores. The son however, he gets looked after right up until he leaves the nest. His food is cooked for him, his room is cleaned, his clothes washed…” You start understanding what he means, and nod slowly.

“By the time he’s serious about looking for a girl, he thinks they should be how his ma and pa were. I’m sure there’s love and affection, but in his mind, if she’s not doing those same things he grew up with, then how much can she really love him?” He ends with a shrug, looking at you, and you have to admit you’re genuinely surprised by his honest point of view.

But he sits up a little straighter then, and points to himself with the bread still in his hand.

“My mother would never let me get away with that.” He tells you solemnly, and you chortle at his deeply serious, over the top expression.

“Oh?”

“No ma’am. When I was sixteen she showed me how to use the machines at the laundromat, and if my room wasn’t spick and span at the end of the week I’d get it.” You laugh at the thought of a woman with Bucky’s same eyes making him remake his bed.

“And cooking?” You press, and Bucky shrugs again.

“I grew up watching her cook, helping her in the kitchen… I ain’t sayin’g I’m good. But I wouldn’t starve.” You laugh again, his stories uplifting on your general view of how things were ‘Supposed To Be’.

“Anyway, the point is, the only thing that makes a good husband or wife is that you care about one another. Everything else is negotiable.” You grin, and nod, look out at the water as he words sink in, before you sharply side eye him.

“Everything except fidelity. I’d cut off my man’s—” You cut yourself off before you can say too much, but Bucky has already begun howling with laughter, leaning all the way back to rest on his elbows, he places a hand to his chest as he guffaws gleefully.

When he calms down, still snickering quietly he nods several times to himself and gives you a look.

“I don’t doubt you for a second, sweetheart.” Your chest flutters again at not just the pet name, he’d taken to using various ones, but the softness in his voice when he says it. It makes you nervous, it makes your stomach feel like the rolling waves of the ocean before you are happening simultaneously in there too.

“Right, well. Let's cool off, huh?”

Bucky rolls his pant legs up to just above his knees before he treads into the shallows, and you lift your skirt just a little as you join him. You wallow about in the water for some time, talking about nothing in particular. At one point, he realises he’d left his camera in the car, and races back up to get it, returning with a piece of photo paper already developing in his fingers.

“Took one from the dunes. It’s a nice view.” He explains as you lean over to peer at the little print. You can make out your figure, distant in the photo.

Bucky takes several more pictures, of the cliffs, of the long expanse of shoreline on the other side… You let him be for a while, moving back up to the rock and the blanket, perching yourself on the edge as you just take in the cool sea breeze and watch Bucky move about, deeply focused.

It was sweet really, though you don’t know how many of the shots look the same.

The warm sun and your general relaxed mood lull you to lie back, fixating your gaze on the blue skies and clouds above. Your skin grows warm and a little moist under such direct sunlight, but it feels nice. You aren’t sure how long you lie there for, you even doze off for a little bit, but some time later, you hear Bucky approaching.

“Can I take your picture?” He asks as you sit up, shielding your eyes for a moment as you do.

“Me?”

“Yeah.” You want to protest that he shouldn’t waste his photo paper on you, but he’s already stepping back and bringing the camera up to check if he’s too close or far.

“Wait, let me move.” You tell him, shifting to sit side on, with your feet on the rock and your knees bent up, like you would sit in your reading nook. Bucky waits for you like you ask, adjusting a little notch on his camera before he lifts it back to his eye, peering through. You expect him to take the photo right away but instead you see his lips part and his tongue swipe out to wet them as he swallows and draws the device away again.

“Uh, your— your skirt sweetheart, it's…” He trails off and gestures at his own thigh, prompting you to glance down at yourself.

Oh.

With your legs up like this, and perhaps with the help of a little sea breeze, your dress had shifted far up the length of your leg, far more than what was proper or should be photographed, and yet, your mind begins to whir.

You cock your head innocently, and hook your finger under the hem, drawing it back even further, until almost the whole side of your leg was on display. As you do, you pop your shoulder forward and rest your chin on it, grinning widely, invitingly.

Bucky just stares for several moments, and you see him swallow again. He seems to fumble with bringing the camera back to his face, and you see his mouth in what you’re certain is English cussing. It only makes your grin that much wider.

He takes the picture, lowering the camera immediately to catch the photo it spits out, though, he keeps glancing back up at you. You only flutter your eyelashes as best you can and make sure to fix your skirt somewhat. You sit forward again, and rest your hands either side of your legs, leaning toward where Bucky still stands.

“May I see?” You ask, and he jerks, starting toward you right away.

“Y--yeah. Of course…” You note with a quiet snicker how he stands at least two feet away from you when he holds out the photograph, and you take it from him, inspecting it.

“This is a good one.” You tell him.

“Yep. Yeah. It is.” He’s aware you’re teasing him now, and you give him a smile over the top of the picture.

“You won’t throw it away?”

“Why… why the hell would I throw it away?” You shrug and hold it out to give back.

“I don’t know…”

Bucky reaches out for it, but just before he can take it from you, you pull it back.

“On second thoughts, I don’t know if you can be trusted with this.” His face resembles a rain cloud, his frown confused and deep.

“What?”

“I think it might end up in the bottom of a box somewhere… I should keep it.” Your lip quirks, and he can see the cogs turning as he realises you’re only playing. He rolls his eyes and goes to grab it from you again, but you pull it away again.

Before he can corner you where you sit, you jump off the rock, ducking to the side as he lunges, making you squeal.

“Come on, sweetheart, let me have it…” You keep moving backwards, even as you turn to face him, the photo clutched to your chest. Bucky has turned to pursue you, though he’s only walking, hands on his hips.

“You’ll have to catch me!” You take off running, unable to keep from laughing as you do, Bucky’s own chortling reaching you as he gives chase.

You duck and weave out of his reach, and even though he’s far bigger and fitter than you, you were smaller, and the drag of the sand didn’t affect you as much. He almost gets you twice, his fingers grazing your dress, and when he does finally catch you, it’s with his arms around your middle, seizing you mid stride and pulling you back.

The momentum sends you both tumbling to the sand, your back hitting it lightly. Bucky falls over you, though he catches himself before he can crush you proper. All you can do is laugh, breathless from the chase and from the fall, and most certainly from the fact Bucky now lays atop you.

He’s laughing too, his face close and his breathe warm. He shifts to lift one hand and pluck the photo from your fingers, still held to your chest, trapped their by his own body. He’s still smiling when he makes a show of placing the photo in his top pocket, and buttoning it close, and then he drops his hand, resting it back in the sand by your head.

“I caught you.” He says simply, and all you can do is nod dumbly. His eyes fall to your mouth, and you suddenly remember the lipstick debacle. You’re about to make an excuse, or explain what had happened, when he leans in, dropping his lips to your own softly. You don’t mean to, but you gasp quietly, heat pooling in your face when you feel Bucky smile, and hear his light chuckle.

He doesn’t stop though, and you gladly return the kiss at last, lifting your chin so he could reach you easier or have more of you, you don’t know. Bucky shifts over you, his knee digging into the sand as he lifts some of his weight off of you, but before you can complain, he’s holding your face, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.

When you part, reluctantly, you’re all too aware of how heavy you’re breathing, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Bucky’s eyes drop to watch for a moment, and you feel goosebumps crawl over your skin, but he looks away, moving to get off of you.

“Uhm… that okay?” He asks, scratching the back of his head a little awkwardly. You’re still just lying in the sand, watching him and trying to catch your breath.

He stands, and leans down to offer you a hand that you accept. You let him pull you to your feet, and by that time you’ve gotten at least a semblance of your sanity back. He’s looking at you cautiously, concerned maybe, but you intend to rectify that.

He hardly has time to catch you as you jump for him, legs wrapped around his middle, your arms around his neck, Bucky lets out a loud, hearty laugh as he makes to secure his hold on you. You lean in and kiss him again, heated at first, but then softer, until you’re only peppering little pecks to his lips.

“I’m gonna go with that being okay, then.” He confirms to himself. You giggle, like a schoolgirl with a crush, and realise he’d been walking the whole time he’d been carrying you. He sets you down atop the rock, hands gliding under where he’d been holding your legs, before quickly removing them, like he didn’t want to overstep.

“You had better not lose that picture.” You warn, making him chuckle, and pat his pocket.

“Oh, trust me darlin’. It’s not going anywhere.”

The sun had already begun to set, and so you make quick work of packing up the small amount of belongings you brought. As you walk back to the car, Bucky carries the basket in one arm, and with the other, he reaches out to take your hand, firmly and securely, interlocking your fingers, and you feel your whole being ascend.

He doesn’t let go of your hand in the car either, reaching out to hold it there too, your intertwined hands resting on your thigh. It’s all too short however, and far too soon he’s parking the vehicle and helping you out.

“I’ll walk you back.” He tells you and you frown.

“What? No, you’re already home, I can—”

“—I’ll walk you back.” He says again, firmer, but with a playfulness that stops you from arguing further.

You wait for him to get your basket from the backseat, and when he does join you around at the rear of the car, his face lights up in realisation.

“Oh! Wait. Hold this for a sec…” He gently thrusts the basket into your hands and you blink, watching him jog into the cottage.

He reappears a few minutes later, carrying something long and cylindrical in his hand, and as he approaches you again, he flips it, catching it smoothly.

“Flashlight. For… for if your power goes out again…” He drops it in your basket before he takes it from you again, and you’re so genuinely touched by the gesture you’re frozen for a few seconds.

“Sweetheart?” Bucky frowns, cocking his head, but you snap out of it, leaning in to wrap your arms around his neck, only a hug this time. His free arms wraps around you instantly, and you aren’t sure you’ll ever get over how nice it feels to be held.

“Thank you. That’s very kind…” You say when you pull back. He just smiles at you, before offering you his arm, and walking you home.

—-

He takes you on a picnic.

It’s such a quaint idea that when he mentions it to you one afternoon, after kissing you goodbye on your doorstep, you can’t help but feel your eyes light up like two cartoonish hearts.

Bucky had assured you he would source the meal and perhaps some wine, but he’d need your basket once more, and the next day you find yourself lounging lazily under the shade of a tree, in the empty fields outside of town.

He’d brought bread, fruit and a bottle of red wine that you’d be very excited by right up until you’d had your first taste.

Bucky burst out in laughter at your expression, nose scrunched and brow furrowed, and he gracefully takes your glass from your hand.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, it's an acquired taste…” He chortles, and you gladly let him pour what's left of your drink into his own, but you notice he doesn’t really touch it throughout lunch.

You talk for hours, clearing up the blanket so you can lie down next to one another and gaze at the cloudy blue sky. You ask Bucky to tell you once more about New York City, and as he speaks you gaze at him, gesturing wildly with his hands and smiling back at you every so often.

He was so pretty, for a boy, his eyes so blue, hair dark and lovely and smooth looking. Even his stubbly chin and cheeks, where you could clearly see he’d shaved just this morning look nice, and without really thinking, you reach out and brush the backs of your fingers over his jaw.

Bucky stops speaking, turning his head slightly to regard you softly, but you don’t stop. From the way he spoke about the war and missing his home, you think maybe it has been a while since he’d felt such gentle touches.

“See somethin’ you like, darlin’?” His smirk is barely a smirk, it's far too soft for that, but there’s still a hint of cheekiness in his gaze that draws you in. Laughing quietly, you rise to your elbow, leaning into his side where he’d previously been lying a respectable distance from you and press your lips to his jaw, then his cheek, and at last his lips.

Bucky kisses you back immediately, like he always did, lips moving softly against your own, carefully cupping the side of your face and pulling you down against him even further. Your heart races when he sits up without breaking apart from you, pushing you back so your positions are reversed. Out here you were practically alone, and even if somebody did come driving down the main road, with the tall grass nobody would be able to see you.

You wrap your hands up behind his head, tugging him down more, until he’s leaning against you fully, his forearms encasing either side of your head, a knee slipping between your own as your tongue slips between his lips. Your nearly come apart thena nd there when he moans, muffled by your kiss, but erotic all the same, and he seems to move more feverishly, kissing your quicker, bearing down against you harder.

You resist the urge to wrap a leg around him, but instead let your fingers scratch gently at the back of his neck, feeling yourself sink further and further into bliss with each tiny stroke of his tongue against yours, and each press of his clearly hardening length between your thighs.

You almost unhook your hands from his neck to lift your dress when he pulls back. At first he simply lays his forehead against your own, his eyes shut tight, and you watch him with rising disappointment and heavy breathing as he gently shifts his weight off of you, and dips his lips to kiss the tip of your nose, and then chastley at your lips.

“I uh… this probably isn’t a good idea…” You deflate, but push it aside. If he did not wish to go further, you wouldn’t pressure him. Still, the gentle ache between your thighs resists, begging for friction, for satisfaction. Bucky looks down at you, lips kissed raw and pupils dilated and it takes everything in you not to go for his pants then and there. He smooths down what he can of your hair, tucking some wilder pieces behind your ear before he kisses your nose again, and lays back down beside you.

On the walk back, the both of you are oddly silent, and although it isn’t uncomfortable, you still don’t like the awkwardness. You always felt like you could be truthful with Bucky, and you didn’t want to change that now, so tugging on his hand a little you slow your pace.

“I would have had sex with you, you know?” You squint at him and he blinks rapidly, face blushing quickly as he checks around to make sure there was nobody else present.

“Wha— I wasn’t—”

“—I’m not a virgin. I know what I’m doing.” You further assert, and he only continues to cough awkwardly, trying to reign in his clear embarrassment.

“Men aren’t the only ones who like sex. You always think us women are so eager to wait and ‘save ourselves’.” You roll your eyes then, and walk past him.

You don’t look back, but soon enough he’s hurrying to fall in beside you once more, taking your hand again even as he swallows.

“I never said you were, I just… I guess I’m not used to ladies talkin’ about it so… well, at all…” You side-eye him wryly and shrug.

“Look around, Bucky. In a town this small, there isn’t much else to do except each other. But all the boys have left now…” You shrug again, and this time Bucky laughs, letting out a slow puff of air.

“I guess.” He wears a look on his face like he wants to say something else, but he stays quiet. You slow down as you approach your home, and you’re about to ask when he stops just short of the steps leading into your front courtyard, and takes both your hands.

“I guess I wouldn’t want to take advantage. I’d want you to be sure.”

You purse your lips and roll your eyes again.

“I’m not a naive little girl.”

He laughs again and draws you near, quickly checking about to make sure no neighbour would spy the kiss he presses to your lips.

“And I’m not a boy.” The words send a thrill up your spine, and now more than ever you wish he hadn’t pulled away earlier. You swallow as he looks down at you, eyes intense and fiery and this time it’s your turn to swallow.

“I— I know…” You manage, and for a moment you can’t stop staring at one another.

Eventually, Bucky squeezes your hands and nods his head toward your home.

“You’d better—”

“—Oh! Yes… Goodnight…”

Bucky watches you as you make your way to your door and tips his hat when you look back at him before you close it.

“Goodnight.”

—-

Bucky can’t sleep.

It's late, he really should have been asleep hours ago, but he can’t stop thinking about you and what you’d said. As much as he curses himself for not seeking out the moment when he’d had you under him in the field, he’s also glad. You deserved more than a quick rut on a picnic blanket, and yet his mind wanders to Parisian nights, except all the women in his memories are replaced with you.

Would you be loud? Quiet? Would you say his name, drawn out and breathy? He decides he wants to find out.

It takes him no time at all to walk to your house, and when he’s climbed the side wall of the enclosed courtyard into the back garden, he sneaks on around to the open window on the first floor.

Surprisingly, you were either far from asleep yourself, or you had been suspecting his visit. You sit up in bed right away, but smile and hold a finger to your lips as you creep across to the window. Bucky leans against it comfortably, holding your hand when you half climb through to sit on the sill, legs dangling out beside him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, though your demeanour seems to be far more girlish, far more pleased-but-scandalised than you had been earlier, talking so frankly about sex. Bucky gives you his best smile and shrugs.

“Wanted to see you. What’re you doing awake?” He nods to your bed, the book and torch clearly lying amidst your sheets.

“I was reading.”

“I can go if you’d—”

“—No!” You whisper, socking him lightly in the shoulder, as if it were a ridiculous thought to even suggest he leave. In the moonlight he thinks you look lovelier than ever, and he scoots closer, until he’s resting his arms across your thighs and gazing up at you softly.

“We have to talk quietly though, my mother’s room is above mine and her window is also open…” You point, and Bucky looks, see’s the curtains billowing slightly out, and he nods.

“I’d let you in, but I think you might dissolve into a blush.” You tease him, and Bucky immediately perks, eyes lighting up at the challenge. He pulls his arms off of your lap and cocks his head.

“Well I’m here, aren’t I?” He asks slowly, letting a hand gently curve up your calf. Your nightdress covers you from the knee up, but he ignores it, reaching underneath to massage softly at your thigh.

You don’t take your eyes off of him, even when he lowers his gaze to carefully push your knees apart. If anything you seem to lean back on your palms, watching him intently. Bucky meets your eye again when he snakes his hand further, forgoing your leg entirely to press the pads of his fingers against your core, eliciting a sharp inhale from the both of you.

“You don’t wear underwear to bed?” He can’t help but ask, pants suddenly restrictively tight and you breathe out slowly, clearly trying to remain quiet as he lets his fingers simply glide through you slick.

“Only when I’m expecting company.” You tell him, and he chortles, stepping closer and pressing his lips to yours.

Your head angles back for him, letting him set the pace of the kiss and gently, Bucky presses one finger inside. You almost gasp, but he kisses you harder, pulling back again just slightly, so your lips brush when he speaks.

“Gotta be quiet, remember?” You nod vigorously, eyes not even opening to meet his, and Bucky leans back further, content to watch your head lull back and mouth part in the softest breathiest moans he’s ever heard as he slowly pumps his one finger in and out of you.

He’s laser focused on the task at hand, even despite his rock hard cock, and soon he’s adding another finger, slowly letting them sink deep into your velvety wet heat, his pride stoked when you further part your legs for him. He uses his free hand to push your nightdress up around your hips, and he nearly groans at the sight. Licking his lips he sets his eyes back on you, leaning in to nip and kiss at your neck, finally letting his thumb press down against your clit, massaging in circles as slow as his strokes, and he feels your muscles flutter.

A third finger joins the others and this time you seem to reactively grip his wrist, your other hand flying to slap over your mouth as your brow furrows deeply. Bucky knows he’s breathing hard, and after adjusting himself briefly in his pants, he pulls at the thin straps of your nightdress, getting it only half down one shoulder, but it’s enough.

He wraps his lips around your exposed nipple, swirling his tongue and nipping experimentally, feeling your hand wrap around the back of his head in approval. He stares up at you, desperately wanting to see your face when he finally pulls you apart and he’s rewarded only a few minutes later, his fingers fucking you far quicker, his thumb working faster.

When you finish, your cunt squeezes his digits relentlessly in waves of pleasure, and you make strained, soft little mewls as you attempt to remain quiet. Your hips shift and twitch and he doesn’t draw away from your breast until you’re blinking back down at him, gently pulling his hand away from your clit with bashful little laughs.

“At least… at least I won’t have to change any bedsheets…” You pant, and Bucky chuckles, leaning forward to kiss your lips properly, feeling your naked chest heave against his when he does. Your eyes seem dazed, and your face warm, but when he pulls away again you swallow and gesture to his own clearly bulging pants.

“I can—”

“—Not tonight…” And he means it.

“I just wanted… I just wanted to see you.” He says, and your gaze shifts from purely lustful to something softer, and you smile, dipping your eyes away for a second.

Bucky takes the moment to enjoy his view, your dress pulled up to your hips, your pussy still clearly on display, and your sleeves hanging well down to your elbows, breasts bare, nipples hardened and exquisite. He fights the urge to reach out and start all over again, maybe get his mouth on you this time…

“S’alright?” He rests his head in his palm and you chortle quietly, nodding.

“Yes. Yes, better than… than anything with other boys before…” He gets the feeling you aren’t just saying that to stroke his ego, the blissed out look on your face and the oddly bashful demeanour you’ve taken on requiring him to believe that he really had just properly blown your mind. He grins triumphantly, and leans in again, kissing your lower lip.

“I told you I wasn’t a boy.” He kisses you full again, loving the feel of your hand reaching up to hold the back of his head to you.

“I know.” You say when he forces himself back. You watch him as he carefully pulls up the sleeves of your shirt, covering you up again, and then fixes the skirt too, until you’re mostly modest.

“You should get some sleep, sweetheart.” He tells you, and you hum, reluctantly climbing back through your window and standing on the other side. He kisses the back of your hand, but when he goes to pull away, you don’t release your hold on him, tugging him back slightly, and he blinks at you curiously.

Your eyes have taken on that same lustful expression from before and you cock your head.

“Will you think of me?” You ask, and at first, it doesn’t quite click.

“When you wrap your hand around your cock when you get home, will you think of me?” Bucky nearly chokes, nearly climbs right through your window and ends all the tension there and then, but he manages to hold strong, realising you were still somewhat teasing him.

“Darlin’ I will think of nothing but you, soaking wet and waiting for me…” He squeezes your fingers slightly, noting the approval in your eyes even before you nod.

“Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

“It has been, yes.” You finally let him go, watching as he clambers quietly back over your side wall.

And Bucky does think of you when he gets home, he strokes himself to the thought of your mouth and your cunt, and your tits bouncing in his face while he has you on his lap. It’s honestly the filthiest his mind has been since Paris nights drowned in alcohol and women he didn’t bother to get the names of. He knows your name though, sighs it again and again as he thinks of you.

He falls asleep hard and wakes up in the morning the same way, unable to stop thinking about you.

—-

In the days following Bucky’s midnight visit, you feel a giddy sort of happiness thrum constantly through your veins. Even now, as you sit up in your archway, trying to focus your mind on the letter you write to your distant aunt (you think you’ve met her all of once, but she’d written to you and your mother regarding your health and wellbeing in the aftermath of the war, so you felt obliged to reply). You find yourself able to write only several lines before you’d look up, searching, hoping perhaps Bucky would show, but even you know it’s too early… he’d still be working.

Part of you debates going to watch, the idea of seeing him labouring away in the hot sun, hopefully with his shirt removed, leaving him in only a singlet top… your stomach stirs at the thought, but you shake your head, and concentrate harder on your letter.

You manage to succeed too, losing yourself in describing Montecarra to your relative who’d never once left England, as she’d explained. It isn’t until some time later that movement catches at the corner of your eye, and you barely refrain from looking up as Bucky finally ambles into the courtyard. He must sense your buys-ness, because he doesn’t greet you as he nears, he just stops for a moment, before he continues forward.

At first you think he may approach you to wait, but instead he swiftly climbs into the open archway behind you. You take the time to pause in your own actions to peek at what he’s doing, only to find him sitting in mirror of you, his back to the same pillar yours is. After he settles he twists back and nudges your arm.

“Got any spare paper, darlin’?”

You try to pretend you hadn’t been watching him, but his grin says you’ve been caught out. Gathering a few pages from under your small stack, you hand them back to him, his fingers over your far too suspect for you to think it is anything other than purposeful. Still, you can’t help but smile, even as you settle back to finish off your letter, hearing him uncap a pen.

You find yourself referring back to your aunt’s letter to answer and reply to all of her questions and queries, and once again you almost forgot Bucky is there, until tugging on your sleeve draws you out of your reverie. You turn to look, expecting to be greeted with his lovely face, but instead, all you see is his hand, holding a page folded into a little rectangle.

Your chest flutters at the thought he’d been sitting writing something for you, and so your letter is quickly abandoned in favour of taking the little note. Bucky seems to remain as if he were oblivious to his own actions, humming quietly to himself as you unfold the paper and gaze down at the words.

‘Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?’

Again, your heart stutters, and you can’t hide your smile as you put pen to paper, drawing up your response. You refold it and hand it back the same way he’d offered it to you; tugging on his sleeve and holding it out. The page is plucked from your fingers quickly, and you try to distract yourself by turning back to your true task, only to be pulled from this once more when his hand reaches back, searching. You watch for a moment before he wiggles his fingers expectantly and you snicker, adjusting your hold on your paper, so that you can place your hand in his own.

You sit there like that for the rest of the afternoon, Bucky humming happily, your hands interlocked at an almost awkward angle, and you try your hardest to finish writing your damned letter.

He picks you up from your home later that evening, finds you waiting for him out the front. You hadn’t dressed up in a long time, and so when his gait slows and his eyes roam over you as he approaches, you can’t help but feel self-conscious.

You’d worn a simple red dress, but it was the nicest one you owned, the only one appropriate for dinner out. This time you’d committed to the lipstick, painted your lips red and done your best not to talk yourself out of it. You’d left your hair down, let it fall in loosely styled waves, and all together you felt part-movie star, part-fool.

Bucky whistles lowly, just quietly as he nears, and you have to scoff and roll your eyes, hiding your embarrassment as he draws you in, hugging you just quickly before he pulls back, hands on your waist still, to inspect you closer.

“You look beautiful.” He tells you, voice soft and sweet and you know he isn’t pontificating, or trying to woo you.

“Thank you.” You reach out to smooth over his collar and finally force yourself to meet his eye.

“You look lovely, too.”

You feel lost in a slight high as you walk to the only real restaurant in town, in the main square. In the early evening the streets are quiet, only the occasional passerby, but the cafe remains open, seeing to a few quiet patrons, plus yourselves out on the terrace.

Bucky helps you with your chair and takes your order for you, pours you your drink… it's so normal and yet you’d never really experienced an evening like it. When your food is long gone, he scoots his chair around to sit closer to you and holds your hand softly in his while you talk aimlessly. You aren’t at all worried about being seen or judged, in fact the few moments in which you catch a passing couple take a look at you, you see kind eyes and sweet smiles, only making you feel dizzier.

“You enjoyed your meals, I see?” The owner, an older man named Matteo who you’d known to live in Montecarra for as long as you can remember, stops by to clear up your plates, and you nod enthusiastically.

“Wonderful, we’ll have to come back.” Bucky says, squeezing your fingers as Matteo smiles widely and agrees.

“Maybe next time I will have figured out how to work this named record player, then you will have music as well!” You and Bucky both seem to perk as Matteo throws a thumb over his shoulder, and Bucky straightens in his chair slightly.

“I can give it a look, if you’d like?” He offers, eyes already glued to the record player sitting atop the counter only a few meters away. The older man gives him a shrug and a gesture that clearly reads as ‘go for it’, as he finishes collecting the plates and patters back off to the kitchen.

You watch Bucky move over to the counter, fiddling with the player, though you can’t really see what he does. You know he’s fixed it however, when he throws a grin back at you, and plucks a record from beside the machine, pulling it from it’s sleeve and carefully placing it down on the turntable.

Music immediately begins wafting through the air, an upbeat tune you think you’d heard on the radio before, and Bucky comes speeding back over to you, hands held out even as he pulls you from your seat.

“Dance with me?” He asks, though he’s already wrapping his arm around your waist, and you move yours to his shoulder and hand respectively. There isn’t much room between the tables on the sidewalk, and although the song is happy, it’s not a rousing jazz tune, so you find yourselves simply swaying in each others embrace as the French lyrics begin to join the band.

You end up close, so close you forget anything else exists around you, Bucky’s forehead pressed against your own, your chests similarly compressed, as if neither of you could exist apart.

You have to laugh, thoroughly intrigued and enthralled when he begins softly singing the words to the song. It’s so different to hear him speak in a language that wasn’t Italian or English and it makes your chest ache for a reason you don’t know.

“I wish I could speak French.” You say quietly, Bucky’s lips quirk up but you shake your head.

“You must be so amused by how quaint I am… never been in a car, never left my town… never learnt any languages…” You don’t mean to sound so melancholy, but it hits you then, the ache in your heart stems from just how wonderful Bucky is, and how plain you are in comparison. But he’s frowning as you finish, shaking his head and adjusting his grip on you, wrapping you up even further.

“Never. I think you’re worldy in other ways…”

Your purse your lips, but as he opens his mouth to continue you cut him off, changing the subject.

“Can you tell me about New York again?”

Bucky’s expression falters, then lifts into a sweet smile, and you know his mind has wafted away to distant city streets.

“Of course…” He talks for ages about all the shops and stores available, about all the tiny apartment buildings and the decor, and his home block in Brooklyn. He tells you about the parks and the weather, and a place called Coney Island.

“... I think you’d like it.” He finishes, and you hum, having closed your eyes now, head to his shoulder as you attempt to imagine all that he describes. You feel him open his mouth to say something, to continue, but he doesn’t, hesitating and then remaining quiet, though he holds you firmer again, and you relish in the warmth of it.

Eventually, you have to let Matteo close up, and you bid the old man thank you and goodbye as you walk away hand-in-hand. Before you can get too far however, you stop, tugging on Bucky’s hand so you have his attention, the warm Montecarran breeze blowing your hair about.

“My mama doesn’t expect me home until morning.” You tell him, seeing instantly how his eyes change.

“Why’s that?” He manages to ask, stepping close again and you smile, shrugging.

“I told her I was watching some children in town overnight.”

Bucky hums at your reply, frowns as if in thought.

“Sounds as if you may need somewhere to stay, in that case.”

Bucky takes you back to his cottage, all quiet laughs and lingering touches as he leads you inside, placing his coat and keys down on the table, but any pretence is lost as soon as you kiss him. Clothes scatter around the small space, a gingerbread trail leading to his bedroom where he lays you down and peels the last of your underwear off.

Oddly, you feel less nervous about him seeing you naked than you had in your dress, maybe because he’d already seen you mostly this way, or maybe because at least naked it was real and you couldn’t pretend or hide, it was more honest.

You itch to touch him, but you don’t get the chance right away, his kisses leaving your lips quickly to travel down and soon you’re gasping, hands clutched tightly in his hair as he buries his face between your thighs, hands holding your legs apart as his tongue and lips work quickly over you, bringing you over the edge faster than you even thought possible. By the time he’s kissing you again, your mind is a haze of filth and desire and you guide him into you quickly.

Bucky is an excellent lover, his pace and angle perfect, his weight above you welcome as he thrusts into your warmth, desperate and wanting. He isn’t boring either, doesn’t end the night quickly, instead nearing his pleasure and stopping each time, drawing it out. He instructs you in various positions, making your belly spark with his knowledge of the female body, nearly sending you into a fritz when he takes you from behind, leaves you scrambling to hold on to something as you cry out into his sheets, his cock relentless as he fucks you through your orgasm, finally finishing with you, his hands curled around to pinch at your nipples, making your cunt bear down on him even more as you fall into a sweaty, moaning and panting heap.

He fetches you water, helps you fix back your hair in your still slightly dazed state, and pulls you near again, skin to skin as you drift off to sleep, lips pressed to one another even as your mind begins to wander.

In the morning you wake him with your mouth around his length, swallow him back as much as you can as he’s drawn from slumber by the pleasure, his hand reaching down to messily clutch at your hair. You watch him come apart for you, eyes fixed on his tilted head, creased brow and open mouth as he jerks into the back of your throat, hot warmth spilling forth that you swallow with ease.

He swears and curses as he rubs his eyes and you crawl up to lay beside him once again, finding his eyes looking at you as if to make sure you were real.

“Good morning, Sargeant.” You tease, only to have him cuss more, his chest heavily quickly up and down. You chitter and brush the slightly damp hair back from his head, a kiss to his cheek as you withdraw from the bed.

“Where’re you goin’?” He asks, blinking himself properly awake and you throw him a glance as you hunt for all your belongings.

“I have to go home, my mother does expect me at some point…” You explain, and he rubs a hand over his face once more, seeming to deflate a little.

“Right. Of course.”

You’re fully dressed when he manages to pull himself to sit on the edge of the bed, still naked, still just as fine as the evening previous. He looks up at you as you step nearer, braiding back your hair before you place both hands on his shoulders.

“Thank you.” You say simply, leaning down to peck his lips chastley. He hums against you, kissing you back and quickly you’re no longer pecking his lips, your hands roaming down over his shoulders appreciatively, his hands reach up the back of your skirt, pulling your underwear to the side and—

You gasp, giggling as you pull out of his reach, shaking your head and wagging a finger at him like a naughty child.

“No! No, I have to go home!” You tell him, even as he sighs, falling back to lie on the bed again. You can clearly see his hardening length and you fight yourself to just climb atop him once more.

“I will see you later!” You say pointedly, tossing a shirt onto his lap, to hide him from you, and you see him grin, chortling even as his hand travels lower, removing the shirt and wrapping around— you turn your back, flustered and tempted, but you leave his little cottage, determined to get home before your mama woke, so you could wash and change.

—-

Somewhere in the back of Bucky’s mind, he knew it wouldn’t last forever, but the end comes sooner than he’d expected.

He stares at the small pile of pages in front of him, their words all making sense in his brain, he understands what they all say, what they’re telling him, but at the same time, he comprehends absolutely nothing after the words ‘The United States Armed Forces herby discharges you with honourable service records…’

He was going home. They were sending him home.

At last he’d be able to hug his mother, see his sister, Steve, all the other fellas… he’d get to go home and really start his life post-war. He’d been waiting on this letter for months, a year even, more perhaps. At one time, it had been all he’d wanted. And yet, all that fills him now is a sense of dread, muddled with a bit of guilt, because he knows he really does miss his family, but…

When he sees you later that afternoon, sitting up in your nook like always, he can hardly bring himself to return your smile, sparkling and bright as always, for him. You pick up on his mood immediately, even if you poke fun. He knows he can’t delay, they expected him on his flight home from Rome tomorrow. The army loved their damn punctuality.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, face falling a little when he only half-heartedly chuckles at your joke, his eyes downturned, afraid to meet your own. He swallows, and shoves his hands in his pockets, squints into the distance.

“They’re sending me home.”

A beat passes.

When he finally looks back at you, he catches the tail end of devastation leaving your features, replaced instead with a hopeful, sincere grin.

You grab his hand, pulling them from his trousers.

“Bucky! That’s wonderful news!” You say excitedly, but he can only purse his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that! You don’t want to spend your whole life here, do you!?” You snort a little as you knock him in the shoulder, and he smiles thinly.

No, he didn’t want to live the rest of his life in Tuscany, but he’d been getting used to having a little slice of it around lately.

Your over-excitement fades, and you lean in to him cupping his cheek.

“You’ll get to see your mother, and your city… I know you miss them all…” He can’t help but frown at a spot on your dress, avoiding your eyes like a pouting child.

“I’ll miss you, too, though.” He mumbles, and you smile, scrunch your nose and shake your head.

“In no time at all this will all be a happy memory.”

Bucky wants to protest, lifts his gaze to argue with you, but the sharp, almost panicked look you give him as you shake your head again stops him.

“No, Bucky… Don’t. Please don’t make this sad… you’ve made me…” Your voice is cut off as you sniff, the shininess to your eyes spilling over just slightly, even though you smile softly.

“You’ve made me very happy, for quite some time. Let us leave with that.” You wrap your arms around his neck, hiding your face away and Bucky sighs, pulling you closer too, and resting his head atop your own.

He glares, frowns aimlessly at a nearby wall, barely even seeing it, focusing all his energy on swaying gently with you.

“Alright.” He says, voice a little rough. You sniff into the collar of his shirt, and he smooths his hands down over your back.

“Alright.”

—-

“We rented out your room to a shoemaker. You’re gonna have to sleep on the couch until we can convince him to leave.” Becca says flatly, half her words muffled as she’s drawn into Bucky’s chest. He holds her there tightly for several seconds before pulling back.

“Oh yeah?” He rubs at his chin.

“Don’t think the shoemaker will sleep heads to toes with me?” He wonders, and Becca scrunches her nose, laughing at the image.

Winnie Barnes shakes her head and lightly taps her daughter.

“Becca don’t cause trouble. Bucky, we left everything exactly the way it was.” His mother tells him, before hugging him for the sixth time since he’d landed. He just grins, and hugs her back each time. He’d missed her. So much.

They eat dinner together, Steve and Peggy come too, and afterward, the blond makes Bucky pull out his camera. After quickly pulling some choice images out of the pile, he lets Becca and his mother rifle through, telling them about each photo as he remembers it, the act rather therapeutic. He really had been gone for so long.

“Oh… who's this?!” Becca coos, half reading, half awed, and Bucky absently leans over to get a look.

His heart stops for a moment when he lays eyes on you, your smile wide and full of glee, the wind blowing your hair wildly about, your hand lifted to hold your hat on your head. Maybe he takes too long staring, maybe it’s just something about a sisters’ intuition, but Becca whistles, then gasps as she plucks another photo from the pile now tipped on the floor.

“Here she is again! And here too!” Even his mother gives him a sideways glance, but he can’t bring himself to feel too bashful.

He clasps his hands under his knees where he sits on the carpet and hums.

“Nina. I met her in a little town called Montecarra.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“She is.” he confirms, as Becca continues to find photos with your face peppered throughout. He should be embarrassed about the amount of pictures he took of you, even ones where you aren’t doing anything but reading, but he really doesn’t.

“She your girlfriend?”

“Becca!” Winnie scolds, glaring at her daughter, but Bucky only laughs.

“I wasn’t lucky enough for that.” He shrugs, and his mother fusses.

“James Barnes, any woman worth her salt—”

“It’s not like that Ma… it’s just…” He trails off. He doesn’t want to say something to suggest he didn’t want to be here with them, because he desperately did. But he missed you.

“Well… I came home.” He shrugs, and his mother’s eyes fill with understanding. She purses her lips but frowns thinly, reaching out to squeeze his arm.

Becca frowns too, but she recovers quickly, pulling out a new photo and asking him about the features in it.

She pulls out the ones of your face, but she doesn’t mention them again.

Bucky settles in. He truly comes home. He stops feeling like he’s living out of a suitcase. He finds a job, granted it isn’t hard, with the SSR setting up an office in the city, he barely had to ask for a job. On Fridays he went dancing with Becca, acting more like a chaperone than a participant, and on Sunday’s he went to church with his mother, holding her hand through the service and making nice with the old ladies after.

He settles in. He’s home.

And then, there’s a knock on the door.

It’s well after any kind of appropriate hours for visitors, but not late enough into the night that anybody was in bed. Winnie sits by the radio in the living room, listening to her stories while Becca scrawls out a letter. Bucky had been reading when the knock came, and he waves a hand towards the women when he stands.

“I’ll get it.”

“Who on earth calls at this time?” He hears his mother wonder aloud as he makes his way down the hall to the front door.

Swinging it open, Bucky feels ready to send off whoever it is, but he stops dead in his tracks. All sense leaves him, aside from sight. He’s only able to stare slack-mouthed as you blink back up at him.

He’s never seen you in so many layers before. It was winter in New York, but Montecarra seemed to be perpetually hot, so the most he’d seen you in was a light jacket… standing before him now, on his front steps, you have a coat, a scarf, gloves, a hat and he thinks those might even be earmuffs around your neck.

“I… Hello…” You begin, your voice heavily accented when you speak English, and even though Bucky shakes himself out of his stupor, he’s still dumbfounded.

“Hi…”

“I… I’m new to the city, and I thought perhaps you will… show me around?” You seem to be thinking hard about your words, speaking slowly to articulate them. You scrunch your nose when you finish, clearly unhappy with the outcome.

Bucky can’t even bring himself to respond. He’s down the two steps separating you in seconds, hands cupping both your cheeks as he kisses you, again and again, in quick succession until you’re laughing against his lips.

“What— how— what are you doing here?!” He stops and starts, but eventually gets some version of his thoughts out. He speaks to you in Italian, not wanting you to feel limited, and you shrug, gloved fingers splayed across his chest.

“My Aunt… the one from England… she offered for me to join her in America, for better opportunities…” You trail off, and Bucky decides you could tell him any reason and he’d have been satisfied.

“I’ve been learning English.” You say, and he nods, thumb stroking over your cheek. He can’t stop looking at you, he can’t believe you’re here.

“I can see that.” He replies, in English, and watches as you slowly understand.

“Buck? Who's at the door— oh! I- I’m sorry, I—” Winnie, with Becca just behind her, stops in her tracks at the door, cheeks tinged red at catching such an intimate moment, but Bucky can’t bring himself to pull away. He see’s Becca’s eyes flash with recognition, her face lighting up.

He forces himself to pull back slightly, guiding you forward.

“Mama, Becca, this is Nina… from Montecarra.”

——

“I thought you said you’d worked in all the kinks!?” You whine, only slightly impatiently, though Bucky can understand why.

“Worked out all the kinks, baby. ‘Out’.” You roll your eyes and mutter in Italian.

“I’m going to work you out in a moment…” You say louder, and Bucky relents, holding up his hands as he finishes fiddling at last.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming! Get ready!” He tells you, quickly rushing around from one side of the camera he’d set up on a pile of books, the little wired control he holds in his hand flashing red.

“Come bambino, please smile for Mr Camera!” You bounce the tiny baby boy on your lap, earning a bout of giggles, just as Bucky slides in next to you on the stairs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, and placing his free hand on his son’s back.

“Ready?”

“Five minutes ago…”

“Say ‘Montecarra’!”

He presses the button, and the camera flashes.

Thank You Very Much For Reading!

[hawksky]

You wake up on your ex's fire escape; wc 2.5k

A/N: I don't really know how to categorize this ? starts as funny, gets into angst with a happy/hopeful ending. I might write this again for another character and make it 0 angst but using Megumi just let this get away from me. Thank you @sixeyesgojo for reading through my first draft, it helped me edit a lot since 😘. Although I have not looked over the ending since I wrote it, I'm done working on this fic so sorry if it falls flat.

CW: Mentions of excessive alcohol consumption.

Suggested listening: song 1 and song 2 you can pick just one to cater your experience (they are VERY different vibes) or switch over around the shampoo situation.

Objectively, there were good ways to wake up. In the arms of a beautiful person, with cold sheets and a warm body, or with the scent of your favourite breakfast wafting through the air. No disrespect to mornings at all, there were good ways to wake up, you were mature enough to recognize this.

A perplexingly rough, wet, and warm sensation gliding across your cheek, while last night’s jeans dug into your waist, and there was a pounding in your head? It was fairly safe to say this was not a good way to wake up.

It spoke volumes for how out of it you were that it was only just beginning to register in your brain that you weren’t at home, you were not even on a bed, and that the continued licks across your face were the work of animal far too large to be one of your friends cats.

“Fucking hell you’re supposed to be intimidating” you hear a voice grumble without much heat behind it.

As you forced your eyes open you are met with an excited dog tapping its paws in excitement of your presence, and the man behind the half hearted grumble. His gaze was unmistakably familiar, but his expression could not be more foreign to you.

“uhm, Hi” you croaked out while plastering a wide grin in hopes he wouldn’t murder you.

His eyebrow raised on instinct in response. You knew he was waiting for you to explain what you were doing, but the reality was you didn’t have an answer.

“I wish I could explain, but honestly I’m not sure what happened – last thing I remember was being bought another shot… Wait, where am I exactly?” You were desperately hoping you came off as charming instead of pathetic given the circumstances.

“How out of it are you?” he scrunched his face in confusion as he muttered to himself. “You’re on my fire escape, it’s in Ikebukuro? Tokyo… Japan, in case you needed the reminder”

It felt infantilizing to have him scold you like this, which only made this next part all the more difficult. You were not supposed to be Ikebukuro. You were not supposed to be in Tokyo. You were supposed to be in Yokohama. What was even more concerning is that you were definitely not supposed to be on your old fire escape, the one connected to the apartment your ex still lived in.

As you painstakingly pushed yourself upright, a warm weight laid on your upper thigh, a furry face nuzzling into your stomach – you wondered if she was aware of tension between you and her owner. You scratched behind her ears, letting Jade know she was in fact a good girl despite the earlier reprimand from her owner.

As much as you’d love to spend the day sitting on a fire escape petting your ex’s dog, you had to go home, you just need to call –

Your phone. Where was your phone? You felt around frantically for your phone, only to come up with nothing. A light sense of panic bubbles in the pit of your stomach, only to be swiftly interrupted.

“it’s already charging, I plugged it in last night, you dropped in inches away from falling down”

So, he was still watching you despite having returned inside long ago. It was difficult for you to parse this sort of gesture, how caring could it be to plug someone’s phone in when you still left them to sleep outside? Maybe he was just doing everything he could to get rid of you. It was too much to try and analyze for someone who blacked out and woke up in a different city.

“Why did you come here?” you hear him bite out from inside. It sounds harsh, but it feels like his stange way of inviting you inside.

“I don’t know what you’ve picked up from these circumstances, but not knowing is kind of a part of the problem. Believe me, there’s no amount of conscious desperation that would leaf me to sleeping on a fire escape, even yours”

You glanced around the apartment to avoid his void expression; it was spotless. But it was even harder noticing, the turned over picture frames, your favourite quilt still on the back of the couch – remnants of the past living in the present.

This tension only increased as a mug of freshly brewed green tea was placed in front of you. How thoughtful to remember you hated coffee, to realize your throat was probably killing you – you would have tasted a creeping bitterness from all these emotions, if it wasn’t overpowered by what was the distinct taste of your favourite brand that had to be special ordered.

He had always complained, there were plenty of good options for tea at the grocery store, why wasn’t that enough for you? It was so much extra effort to special order from a tea shop across town, the only place that you were able to charm the owner into ordering for you.

“How are you still so fucking awful at taking care of yourself?” he spat the words out like an insult, it was jarring honestly. Despite the time away from each other, it was no less strange to feel his detachment.

He moved towards the door beckoning Jade to follow. “There’s a towel and change of clothes in the bathroom, you should probably take a shower. If I’m not back by the time you leave, just lock up before you go, I haven’t moved the spare key.” Without looking back or waiting for a response he left.

You were starting to recognize your growing frustration – you had known him how long? Dated and lived together for a not-insignificant amount of time? Yet here you were, no idea how to interpret this strange morning, much less his last comment. Did he want you to be here when he returned? Were you supposed to leave and act like you had never been there? Could he genuinely be as indifferent as he wanted you to believe? It pissed you that your feelings were probably plain on your face.

You searched for your phone, finding it on what used to be your side of the couch. It felt ridiculous to think you ever had a side of the couch, but you were both creatures of habit and slowly without even thinking you both made your own little sanctuary mere metres away from each other.

You awoke your phone, expecting a flood of texts and phone calls from your friends, only to find nothing. Not a single check in from anyone. You open the group chat and furiously tap out a message.

<Hey assholes who let me go home on my own last night? Anyways good job I blacked out and I’m on Fushiguro’s fire escape! You are all absolutely useless to me I swear to god.>

Your phone vibrates rapidly as you place it down but you’re not in the mood to field their questions.

You’re tempted to leave now, just to get it over with, go home and crawl into bed and forget any of this ever happened. But, you felt gross, it was late enough in the morning that you could run into someone you knew, and you missed the water pressure here.

As you got ready for your shower you surveyed your options. You refused to smell like him, but the only other bottle in the shower was doggy shampoo. Surely dog’s fur and human hair weren’t so different right? Jade did have a beautiful coat, very soft and shiny… You reprimanded yourself for the ridiculous idea, but the point remained, there had to be something else for you to use.

Your brain, far more alert than it was 30 minutes ago, thought of all the things he hadn’t changed, all the fixtures still in place. You had always kept an extra set of all your supplies under the sink. By the grace of all that is good on this cruel cruel earth, they were there, in all their dusty glory, your prized hygiene products sat unmoved under the sink. It would have been sick and twisted to have to leave your ex-boyfriend’s apartment smelling exactly like him, left to spend the rest of the day agonizing over whether you should take another shower.

As you entered the shower you wondered more. He had to have noticed the softness in your eyes, the faint smile you wore just having an ounce of his attention again, the way ti widened at every caring gesture, and falling with every biting remark.

Yes, it hurt every day missing him. Yes, it would hurt if he hated you. But none of that compared to the feeling of not knowing. What were you supposed to do with all these residual feelings that have yet to go away? Were they worth the suffocation or should you strip them away?

You were proud of yourself, all these reminders of what you once had, in a place you once loved, and you had yet to break down, not even shedding a tear. If you weren’t wrapping yourself in a towel, you would’ve given yourself a pat on the back. This victory was short lived, everyone’s strength has its limits and you had taken yours too far past it already. But then you saw it, something you were completely unprepared for.

Laid neatly on top the closed laundry basket was THE outfit. It was nothing special to anyone else, just a grey sweater and loose joggers, but how many days had you spent alone breathing in his scent for comfort while he was gone? How many hard days at work had you reaching for these exact pieces as if they were the cure to all your problems?

Unable to support your own weight anymore, you fell to the tiled floor, tears spilling out, as your already sore throat grew even more hoarse – you felt like everything was collapsing around you. You weren’t expecting to see him, and you certainly weren’t expecting to need him in so many little ways. It was easy to forget how easily he weaves himself into your life, encroaching on everything you do.

The world disappeared behind each shallow breath, and an endless stream of tears you couldn’t control. Your fingers scratch against your forearms repeatedly, trying to ground yourself in some reality you could no longer grasp. It is so exhausting trying to be over him, going through these cycles of strong emotions, over and over and over again.

Suddenly, for the second time in as few hours, you felt an overwhelming weight encompass your body.

Of course, his stupid fucking perfect dog would still know how to bring you out of a panic attack like he had spent so much time training when you started dating. You clutched to Jade as your breathing slowed, but it did nothing to stop your sobs, if anything it was just another painful reminder of everything you let go.

“Uhhh….” Megumi was frozen at the door, for the first time today he didn’t know what to do. His indifferent façade dropped as he observed the scene on his bathroom floor.

There’s nothing left to lose, not for a moment that he has seen this morning have you possessed more than an ounce of dignity, “So that’s it? You don’t know what to do either? You know it’s been a whole fucking year and I still haven’t figured out how to live without you. A whole year and I’m still a mess. I can’t survive being reminded of us, look at me. And yet every attempt to get over you was a knife twisting because they’ll never be you. Now I’m here and I get to witness the wonderful Megumi Fushiguro, unaffected, and you… you have it all together.” You trail off, giving to him everything left in you.

You weren’t expecting the confused and indignant expression on his face, “You think this is having it together?” His voice lightly raising with each word “This place might as well be a sealed shrine to you and our relationship. I haven’t thrown a single thing out, moved any furniture, bought anything new – the only thing that’s ‘new’ is your stupid tea I keep buying even though I hate it, and for fucks sake y/n I should’ve moved out. Every part of me that looks like I have it together is just my version of a mess.” He brushes a stray strand out of your face, his own face moving far too close for this to be purely platonic anymore “y/n I’m no better off than you are, I’ve just kept everyone from looking”.

“So what are we supposed to do with all this?” Your eyes shining, naïve hope seeping through your defenses at the confirmation that he couldn’t live without you either.

“We could try again” Somehow, it wasn’t quite what you needed to hear. “I, am going to get dressed, and then we’ll talk, I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” He nodded lightly, pulling himself up and exiting with Jade on his heels.

Dressed in the clothes you thought would burn your skin to even touch let alone wear, you let out a long sigh as you sit on at the breakfast nook. “Look, Megumi, I need to know if you’ve worked through it, any of it? I can’t, I can’t wait another three years for you to tell me you can’t say the words I love you, that you can’t commit to more than a yearly rental, I can’t just have you here I need more security than that”

He pursed his lips, unsure of what he could say to that, how he could make sure you didn’t leave again.

“Megumi, I don’t need you to say it to me today, I don’t need you to commit to anything today, but I have to know you’ve tried that I can’t keep waiting for you”

“I… Just give me a minute, please” his voice weak pleading with you. You waited, knowing better than to rush him, laying a hand on top of his assuring him you weren’t going to run out the door.

“y/n, I’m supposed to be honest and vulnerable, I’m supposed to tell myself that people won’t abandon me just because I give them access to who I really am. I want to tell you I love you, because there’s no other explanation for feeling this way. For feeling like your eyes outshine the stars, that your mind is more brilliant than the sun. I’ve tortured myself for a year with the idea of you meeting someone who could give you everything I couldn’t, and selfishly I prayed they were awful, I wished you were miserable so I pretend the truth wasn’t real that I was not enough for you, that I couldn’t give you what you needed. I’ve never seen a loving relationship, certainly not for long enough to form memories, but I look at you and I can’t imagine anything else”

Your thumb reaches to brush away the stray tear sliding down his face as he spoke to you. Manoeuvring yourself around to be on the same side of the nook as him, you pull him into you, letting him bury his head into the crook of your neck. You placed a gentle kiss into his hair before whispered into his ear “You were always enough, I just needed you to know it too.”

not not a tag list: @satosuguslut @sandyscastle

[wing-ed-thing]

Group Project (Shino x Reader x Kisame x Temari)

Request: 

Word Count: 2,282

Tags/Warnings: Language, Alcohol Mention, Gender Neutral Reader @brokennerdalert​ @narahanabi​

Notes: I have never written for Temari before. I think I got her spot on tho. This was actually too fun to write. Enjoy, y’all.

The only time that worked for everyone was 10 o’clock. Which, by the way, sucked ass. At least, that was what Kisame said in the groupchat just ten minutes before you dragged yourself out of your dorm and into the rain. You trudged through the puddles, holding your jacket closed over your body to protect your backpack-encased laptop. Shino had a night lab. The earlier he finished his work the earlier he could leave. Temari had been insistent about that. She had some sort of circle and you remembered Kisame asking her why she couldn’t just skip for the week only to be met with a passive aggressive response. And Kisame himself had hockey practice. Even the sports houses were off campus, only impeding your scheduling efforts.

When you got to the longue, Temari had already set up all of her belongings. She sat herself in a cluster of four shallow armchairs and spread out a flurry of papers on the long coffee table. With the packed schedule that she threw into the chat, you wondered how she got there so quickly. Temari looked up at you with one long, slender brow raised.

“Oh good, at least you’re here.” Unsure, really, of what to make of her backhanded compliment, you sat down in the chair across from her and wordlessly unpacked your laptop.

You never liked general classes. At the end of the day, you worked on a few big, group projects, ultimately learned nothing, and your grade depended on the work ethic of others. You glanced over at Temari. She likely didn’t even have the same major as you. Granted, that was probably the point of the class, but nonetheless, it weighed on your already drooping eyes knowing that you’d have to pour so many late night hours into a project that would amount to nothing.

You pulled up your school account and sifted through your notifications.

“I signed us up for a research question. I thought that censorship in the classroom was an easy and relevant one. I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to get into the intricacies of drones at this time of day.” You couldn’t help but nod. Temari sure pounced on top of things quickly and for that, you were thankful to have received an easy prompt.

“Sounds great,” you mused and the heavy door from the outside to the longue slammed shut. You glanced over your shoulder to find Kisame, still in athletic clothes grinning as he approached.

“Well this is bullshit, isn’t it?” Those were the first words to come out of his mouth and you could practically hear Temari groan in exasperation. Kisame plopped down in the armchair beside you, offering you a wink as he did. “What kinda professor assigns a project on Tuesday only for it to be due Thursday? Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

You averted your eyes back to your screen, pretending to sort through your notifications. You hummed in response, too easily flustered and too tired to process. Temari’s fingers flexed over her own keyboard.

“It’s the beginning of the semester. It’s to test out organizational skills and teamwork,” she managed through half-gritted teeth. You looked between your two teammates, wondering what exactly happened between them that made them so hostile to each other. You made a mental note to not get in the way of whatever that was. Kisame scoffed, sitting back in the arm chair and reaching for his own computer.

“I don’t really care what it is and why it is. What I care about is that I’m wasting my Wednesday night…”

“Ah, yes, Wednesday night,” Temari repeated mockingly, “Because I know that I like getting plastered in the middle of the week.” Kisame leaned towards you on his left arm cushion.

“Soy Sauce over there is just sore that her brother picked a fight with one of my boys and lost. Sasori’s a short guy too, you should link with us sometime.” You heard Temari scoff.

“Yeah, like Kankuro would lose to any of the thugs you hang around—”

“Who are you calling a thug?” Temari met Kisame’s pointed glare. Even so, he sank farther into his seat, lifting one ankle to rest on his knee. “Though, I think it says something that you knew exactly what I was talking about—” He punctuated every word with a smug swing of his head before Shino walked in.

“Nice to see that things are lively in here.” He made his way across the lounge before plopping down next to Temari. A white piece of cloth hung out from his backpack, something that Temari didn’t miss as Shino prepared his materials.

“That’s a hazard.” She bit the inside of her lip.

“Don’t listen to her. She’s been grumpy since before you came here,” Kisame quickly explained, much to Temari’s disdain.

Looking across from you, you almost wished that you had just been paired up with Shino. You didn’t know him that well, but he seemed smart, capable and overall, quiet. Temari had drive, but her approach felt intense. Meanwhile, Kisame seemed like he couldn’t care less about the project. Or perhaps, it was more that he couldn’t care less about Temari.

“So the paper,” you began out of sheer nervousness. “And the presentation…” The three sets of eyes turned to you. You glanced at the clock. You had already wasted more than a half hour.

“Let’s be real here, a five page research paper is nothing,” Temari said, also crossing her legs. “It’s the presentation that we should worry about.” Kisame let out a breath.

“Well, here I was about to say the opposite.” He turned his neck to the side and you heard a few audible cracks. “What about we split it up if the paper is so easy for you?”

“I’m not just doing the paper by myself. Besides, I’d need to find sources and by the time I’ve found sources and written everything up, I’ll have done most of the work.” Temari wrinkled her nose at your partner next to you. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what you were banking on.”

“Here.” Shino’s low voice broke through the room. With one exaggerated click on his keyboard he looked up at the three of you. “I just put a list of sources in the shared doc. There’s ten of them which should be more than enough. I pulled a few articles and a few academic papers which should meet the criteria from the rubric.”

Temari blinked down at her computer, furiously switching tabs. Her lips formed a round ‘o’ shape.

“Nice work, Shino,” you praised only to receive a shy nod. “I think if we take an anti-censorship stance, it’ll make out work easier given the time that we have to finish. Maybe Temari, you can start the paper and I can start the slides.”

“I can help you with that,” Kisame offered and you typed his email into the share box.

“I’ll help Temari with the paper,” Shino said with another nod.

“Start with the counterarguments. I’ll work from the top, you work from the bottom.” Temari gestured widely to Shino’s screen and you let out a relieved sigh. Maybe you’ll be able to get all of this done after all.

Time flew during the late hours of the night. You didn’t know what it was about the nighttime that made time feel quicker than usual. Soon enough, the clock struck one. Temari plucked ferociously at her laptop and it surprised you that Kisame hadn’t asked her what she was punishing her keyboard for. Shino, on the other hand, liked to stand. About an hour ago, he had stood up from his seat, and with one foot on the low level of the coffee table, kept at writing his part of the paper. Temari and Shino didn’t speak much. Rather, their side of the table mostly sounded of clicking.

Meanwhile, you and Kisame were having a great time. He made you laugh much to Temari’s annoyance, but knowing that you were getting your parts done, she didn’t comment. Despite his outward physique, Kisame had a sense of style when it came to design and organization. You flew through fonts and images quickly and by the time you had cleared the first few slides, even you were impressed by how professional it looked. The clock read two o’clock.

“This was your conclusion, right?” You turned your screen in your hands to face Temari. She squinted over and her eyes lit up.

“Actually, that’s a way better wording. Imma just steal that…” She clicked some more. “That’s some great work.”

“It was actually all Kisame.” And to your surprise, he didn’t gloat. Instead, he remained eerily focused. Temari glanced at him before glancing away.

“Like I said, great work…” she muttered.

“We’re almost done with the slides,” you announced, “Do you guys need help with the paper?” Shino shook his head. You found that he preferred non-verbal answers.

“We’re wrapping up over here, too,” Temari answered.

“Good, because I’m fuckin’ starving.”

And with the one mention of food, you all looked up at each other.

***

There was only one place open this late at night and it was one block away from campus. Fast Food, of course, but no one in your group complained. The dining halls were closed and most of you didn’t keep your rolling pantries stocked with anything worth eating at two in the morning, so you packed up your things.

It felt odd walking down the road with this group of people. You chattered amongst yourselves about anything other than your assignment.

“Me? I’m a biology major. I want to study beetles but I have to get my undergrad before I can do anything really specific.” By far, Shino had to be the most interesting of you all. You made your way off of campus, the restaurant in your sight. And as the walk continued, so did your conversation.

“I’ve wanted to try the new place that they opened up by admissions but they’re always closed when I try to go.” Temari pouted and you crossed the street together. You wondered if spending four straight hours having to communicate with any three people could make talking to them this easy.

“Marine biology?” You stared up at Kisame. “I don’t think I would have guessed.” He let out a hearty laugh that sent a few birds flying.

“Oh yeah, they have us go out of labs for the whole day. And when I say the whole day, I mean the whole day. I’ve always loved the ocean, but I think I’d have to transfer if I had to wake up at seven and come back at eight for more than one day a week.” Kisame reached for the handle, only for it not to budge in his grip. He tried again.

“Are they closed?” you asked, getting slightly agitated at the prospect.

“No.” Shino cupped his hands around his eyes as he stared through the window. “Wet floor signs are out. This must be the time that they clean the dining room.” Shino hardly had to finish his sentence before Kisame was already on his way to the drive thru.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Temari yelled after him as she jogged to catch up. “You can’t just walk through the drive thru.”

“Sure you can.” Kisame stood directly in front of the speaker with his hands in his pockets. “There are no cars around and even if there were, they’d have to take our order to get us out of the way… Hello?” The speaker crackled and Kisame shot a pointed look at the rest of you before moting for you to come closer to order.

“What can I get you?” the apathetic worker droned.

“Can I get a number nine?” Kisame started.

“Oh me too,” you whispered to him, not entirely sure why you spoke with such a hushed tone. He crossed his arms with a smirk.

“Make that two number nines? One large—” He stepped back to let Temari come up to the speaker.

“May I please get a number six with extra sauce, please? And, uh, a number seven too, please.” Like Kisame before her, Temari stepped to allow Shino to talk.

“Two number forty-fives, one with cheese and a large soda.”

With nowhere else to sit, you claimed a spot in the empty parking lot. Temari ended up paying. You put up a fight, but she insisted. You were secretly convinced that she was loaded anyway.

“You two got a lot of food.” Kisame handed you your fillet burger. Temari hummed, taking one of her backs and folded it behind her.

“One’s for my boyfriend,” she said, and before Kisame could get out a snarky comment about how Temari could ever land a boyfriend, Shino answered,

“I just usually eat all at once. Can’t usually grab dinner while doing night labs.” You all grimaced to yourselves. You knew the feeling of skipping meals because of your schedules.

You looked out at the city. Your school sat on a hill just outside of the twinkling lights. You found comfort in the blinking that came from below and your surroundings made the atmosphere feel completely still.

“You know, if we have a choice, we should just stick together for the rest of the semester.” Shino’s monotone voice cut through the air. You turned to the rest of them. Temari shrugged.

“It’s less of a gamble since we know each other, I suppose. I know that most of you won’t mess up our assignments…” You and Kisame nodded along, both stuffing your faces with french fries.

The decision was unanimous.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: 

Shino’s lab coat was in with his regular supplies which is technically a hazard when working in chem and bio labs since lab coats should be sealed. 

Not all fast-food places well take your order without a car, but if you block the line they’ll give in (that’s what I did). Don’t blame me if you get arrested for doing that though. 

"I'll have two number 9s, a number 9 large, a number 6 with extra dip, a number 7, two number 45s, one with cheese, and a large soda."– Melvin "Big Smoke" Harris

[shihalyfie]

The difference between the friend dynamics in the Adventure and 02 groups

This is a point I’ve reiterated in a lot of my 02-based metas, but there is a fairly distinct difference between the Adventure Chosen Children having a tight, deep bond and yet not quite being friends in “social life”, whereas the 02 group was a much tighter group on a social level. I always feel that I need to be really careful about saying this, because if I don’t word it carefully, it sounds like I’m trivializing the Adventure group’s bonds (plus, a lot of Adventure diehards will get very upset at you for suggesting this no matter how you put it), so I thought I should write something a bit more in-depth about it.

I think a lot of of this ultimately ties into what each series was about. The fact that Adventure was meant to be a series about “self-recognition of the individual” whereas 02 was about “relationships with others” has been pointed out by many a fan (and official staff too, while we’re at it), and it naturally lends to how the characters and the relationships between them will have a fundamental difference.

The idea that the Adventure group wouldn’t be the type to get together all that easily never really took that long after Adventure to set in. Of course, Our War Game! having this as a plot point also had a meta purpose (basically, limiting the number of people who could participate in the Diablomon battle), but it also has a very important point behind it: the Adventure kids’ social lives were never all that intertwined.

Again, this is something that sounds really awful to say without further qualification. What do you mean, the Adventure kids weren’t friends? Does that mean their entire adventure was for nothing? Did they go through all that only to forget about each other right after it?!

Well, no, that’s kind of exaggeration. I think to properly flesh out the nature of the issue, it’s important to define the differing ways you can be friends with someone. Imagine that you go on the best vacation in your life. You meet a handful of people there. You swap stories and get life-changing advice. You take commemorative photos after some really spectacular experiences. You swap numbers and social media contacts and then you go home. Are you going to keep in touch every so often with the people who gave you some very important advice, and maybe check on their important life events or organize a reunion sometime in the future? Very possibly! Does that mean everyone you met at that trip will now be regularly going out for lunch with you every week now?...Probably not, especially if you already have friends from school. That doesn’t mean you aren’t friends with the important people you met during that best life-changing vacation; it just means that they fill a very different niche in your life from the friends who don’t necessarily understand the life-changing vacation but have the free time to chat with you over lunch.

When the Adventure group found themselves pulled into the Digital World during summer camp, they had already come from very different social spheres. In short:

Taichi, Sora, and Koushirou were the only ones with a background of knowing each other beforehand, thanks to being in the soccer club;

Yamato went to the same school as the others but was a stranger to them, to the point people didn’t even realize Takeru was his brother at first;

Mimi had her own friend circle (see Adventure episode 29);

Jou was assigned as Mimi’s camp group leader but had no other prior relation to her, and Yamato didn’t even initially know his age;

Takeru wasn’t even supposed to be there since he didn’t go to their school and was only tagging along with Yamato;

Hikari was brought halfway into the adventure by virtue of being the eighth Chosen and Taichi’s sister.

Although six of the eight come from the same school, you can see that they’re basically “kids brought together by a certain circumstance” -- they’re not kids who would have normally come into each other’s purview had it not been for this. Which also means that as soon as their adventure ended and some years passed, the aspects of their real lives and social circles started kicking back in:

Taichi continued soccer;

Yamato formed a band (and presumably had a good relationship with his own bandmates);

Sora quit soccer for tennis;

Koushirou quit soccer for the computer club;

Mimi moved to the US;

Jou started attending a private school outside Odaiba;

Takeru and Hikari were never in their age group to begin with.

In the case of Taichi, Yamato, Sora, and Koushirou, it’s representative of how, although they originally had a shared interest in soccer, ultimately, they started to drift into their own specialties. Again, remember that Adventure was a series fundamentally about finding yourself and finding your own path, and all of these choices actually tie into their character arcs: Taichi is a straightforward person and a natural, charismatic leader, meaning soccer was good for him to begin with; Yamato learned to become more sociable and make friends at school; Sora started playing tennis as part of properly reconciling with her mother, and Koushirou decided to pursue a club relevant to his actual interests instead of one purely so that he could have minimal presence in it.

Mimi’s moving to the US is an interesting case because it’s likely because she’s often described (by both fans and official staff) as someone who is easily likeable and can get along with practically anyone. Considering that she’s constantly considerate of others and lacking in condescension or malice, it’s easy to see why; her infamous bouts of complaining were largely because she was under a lot of stress at the time of Adventure’s events (it’s even said that her cracking under pressure was meant to be representative of how an ordinary child her age would react to the situation), and otherwise she has no problems making friends -- hence why she was shown in Adventure episode 29 as already having friends in Taako and Mii-chan that she presumably hung out with prior to the events of the series. So in moving to the US, the point is made that Mimi could move to an entire other country and still hit it up with people there (and she does, given how she makes friends in Michael and the other American Chosen without issue). So thus, Mimi’s moving is also part of her own path -- becoming an effective “ambassador” between international Chosen as they start to pop up all over the globe.

As for Jou, his character arc has heavily to do with the fact that he’s always been on the “elite” academic track -- Japanese school entrance exams stretch back as far as high school, so the fight to get into medical school comes back as early as here, and since the events of Adventure helped Jou come to terms with why he wanted to be a doctor rather than just following his father’s wishes, it’s understandable that he would now be putting everything into that goal -- even if it means going to a different school outside Odaiba and committing himself to the prep school life. And, generally speaking, the other kids respect that too, given that the only time they tried to pull him from it was a time they were literally suffocating on the spot and needed Ikkakumon’s specific backup badly (02 episode 16).

And finally, Takeru and Hikari? The fact that they’re that much younger than the others in this group really is a big deal. When they’re on something “purpose-based” like an adventure, of course the others will have no problem keeping them around, and of course they’ll be happy to participate with these older kids. But if we’re talking about mundane, ordinary life -- there’s not a lot of evidence to suggest they really would prefer the company of kids so much older than them for conversations over lunch. This is especially because it’s hard to imagine they didn’t have other friends at school, too.

Not that they mind being around all these older kids when the time calls for it, but as far as socialization goes, they have their own lives to live. And that’s fine; again, Adventure was a narrative about kids coming to terms with themselves and what they wanted, and it’s not their fault for prioritizing those paths and forming their own social circles rather than insisting on being a specific eight-person group (no matter how much the fanbase wants to have the romantic image of them sticking together all the time no matter what).

Plus, it’s not like they all completely drifted apart and cut each other off!

Just because they’re not “daily life friends” doesn’t mean they’re not still important to each other. 02 episode 38 has Taichi, Sora, Jou, and Koushirou show up for Yamato’s concert -- it’s unlikely they were attending every single one of his concerts, but this was a very important one that was going to be broadcast on TV, so it’s only natural that even Jou (who, again, doesn’t go to school in Odaiba anymore) would still come to support him.

In fact, the fact they can come together when a situation like this happens even without necessarily meeting up every single day of their lives is probably a testament to how strong that bond is in itself. They don’t need to hang out once a day or week to maintain their friendship, and having other friends they’d rather hang out with throughout the day or invite to events doesn’t necessarily mean the other Adventure kids are less worthy friends to them. That experience in August 1999 was so impactful on all of them that they will never forget it, so even if they spent quite a long amount of time not interacting with each other, when a circumstance that necessitates them coming together does bring them together, they can hit it off like nothing happened. Think about how you might have an important friend that you may not chat with on a daily basis, but you talk to them once in a while and hit it off like you never had a break in the conversation. But because that strong bond is based on that one very specific experience that happened in one specific summer, it’s only natural that the majority of meetups over this are going to be based on something to do with that experience, like Digimon incidents; for ordinary things like “band concerts” or “club activities”, it’ll naturally be easier to stick around friends who have more similar social interests, like fellow band or club members.

On the other hand, this is very much not the case for the 02 group.

To understand why the 02 group has a fundamentally different dynamic, we need to dial back to a little before the actual “adventure” part of 02 started.

Right off the bat, we see:

Takeru moves to Odaiba from Sangenjaya, and specifically to the same building Miyako and Iori live in, meaning he’ll be walking to school with them every day;

02 episode 7 indicates that the Motomiya and Yagami families live in the same apartment complex, meaning Daisuke and Hikari are also likely to walk to school together;

Miyako and Iori are established as having already long hit it off with each other as neighbors;

Daisuke, Hikari, and Takeru end up in the same class (with Daisuke and Hikari having known each other already).

In other words: Even before anything to do with Digimon had been introduced (or re-introduced, technically) into their lives, the kids were already being thrown into each other’s social circles. You could technically argue that Daisuke wouldn’t have necessarily met Miyako and Iori if not for the Digimon incident coming into his life later in the episode, but Takeru being neighbors with them basically fills in all of the gaps here -- unlike with the Adventure kids where the adventure in August 1999 threw them together when they likely wouldn’t have been in the same social circle otherwise, the 02 kids are the social circle even independently of the Digimon incidents. In fact, due to being functionally neighbors, there are a lot of ways these kids’ social lives intersect, with Daisuke and Miyako being Taichi and Koushirou’s juniors, Miyako working for Yamato’s band, Yamato being classmates with Miyako’s sister Chizuru, and Jun and Miyako’s other sister Momoe being classmates.

Since, again, 02 was a series fundamentally structured on examining relationships, you can basically view Adventure being a series about “bringing some people together as they find self-assertion even when they’re from different social circles” while 02 follows that up with “so if they were in the same social circle, how would they deal with that?” -- especially since 02 makes it clear that certain kinds of emotional baggage associated with that can actually make it much more complicated.

A lot of 02′s first half is dedicated to the 02 kids doing completely mundane things that have very little relevance to the Digital World conflict -- watching TV in the computer room (remember: this was before they realized the “genius boy” being covered on the news was actually relevant to this), or having a picnic in the Digital World. Mimi even explicitly points out that this kind of thing wouldn’t have happened with the Adventure kids, but it’s not just because of the fact that Adventure involved a lot of running for their lives! It’s easy to dismiss a lot of what happens in these early episodes as “filler”, but a lot of this is dedicated to depicting how the 02 kids were constantly spending time with each other for reasons completely separated from Digimon incidents. This even includes completely ordinary things like soccer games -- Takeru, Hikari, Miyako, and Iori come to support Daisuke with an obvious motive of seeing him do well, so it’s apparent that they’ve come to enjoy hanging out with him beyond just obligation.

Part of this is because of the different nature of the Digimon conflict that they experienced. The Adventure kids had an experience that really was, functionally, “one” experience -- an extremely formative and important one, but one condensed one that they all experienced together. The nature of what the 02 territory war and conflict was, on the other hand, meant that what the conflict “was” to the 02 kids was of a completely different nature. This wasn’t summer vacation; this involved going back and forth between the fight and real life, to the point where Digimon fighting became integrated into “daily life” -- so of course you’d probably hope that the people you’re fighting with are also people you like to bond with on a social level. “Digimon life” and “social life” became synonymous to them.

And when it all comes down to it, it’s hard to pinpoint a “single experience” that the events of 02 embodied, or at least in the same way August 1999′s adventure was. As much as they were running for their lives, the Adventure kids have the luxury of looking at the events of their series as a formative singular time for them, one that they could even look at nostalgically, but for the 02 kids, it’s hard to condense everything into one singular experience (it’s easy for the audience to see it as one series, but for the kids themselves, it’s a very long chain of vaguely connected events). Actually, most of the year involved fighting with someone who ended up becoming their important friend and the other involved helping him deal with his trauma, so it’s not like everyone would be likely to have the most romantic image of this experience itself to “bond” over as much as they care more about the take-home they got out of it: each other.

One thing that 02 doesn’t really spotlight front and center with its starter cast of characters is that, unlike the Adventure kids, who either came with their own social circles prior to Adventure or eventually developed their own in the course of their lives, it’s heavily implied that the 02 kids actually had difficulty making other friends even on a social level, or at least were likely to be in a situation where the other 02 kids really were better company than their other options even for mundane situations. This is especially in the case of the newly introduced characters, who are, effectively, a bit socially “displaced” from others and likely to have struggles fitting in.

There are quite a few signs that Daisuke had serious difficulty making friends prior to the events of the series (with Hikari being the closest thing he had to one), and the fact that the 12-year-old Miyako is portrayed as constantly hanging out with the 9-year-old Iori, brought together by being neighbors, rather than people closer to their own ages stands out. Iori is particularly interesting in that, unlike with Takeru and Hikari, who were portrayed as kids likely to socialize better with those their own age, Iori’s unusual maturity for his age heavily implies that he would actually be out of place with his classroom peers (a very common phenomenon for some people in real life, too!). 02 episode 3 depicting him left alone in the classroom with only a teacher to watch him while his stubborn fixation on principles leaves him slow to finish his lunch says a lot -- his own behavior is liable to isolate him from others, and it’s thus not all that surprising he ended up bonding with some kids who are older than him and more accepting (and even treat him with proper respect, too).

Takeru and Hikari, too. There’s been a lot of arguments over whether the two of them would theoretically be closer to the Adventure kids or the 02 kids, but I would honestly say it’s technically both at once -- they have the same “not socially close, but intuitively understanding” relationship that the Adventure kids all have with each other, but hold the other 02 kids as part of their social circle and hang out with them in “daily life”. So in other words, they have the Adventure kids’ relationship with the other Adventure kids, and the 02 kids’ relationship with the 02 kids. This is presumably why Takeru and Hikari end up hitting it off so well at the start of 02 even though they didn’t interact all that intimately in Adventure; not only do they have that shared experience they intuitively understand, they also were able to start hanging out in day-to-day life and actually, well, socialize.

This applies to them in relation to the rest of the group as well. While neither of them were necessarily portrayed as having social problems, one common thread between the two is that they’re both very emotionally closed-in. Takeru’s response to negativity is to cover it up with smiles, until he can’t hide it anymore and bursts (which scares the hell out of Iori in 02 episode 19 and ultimately forms the basis of their Jogress arc), whereas Hikari has issues vocalizing whenever she’s hurt or in pain (said by herself in 02 episode 31, but with precedent from Adventure episode 48). That means that, even with potential social circles at school, it’s unlikely they necessarily would have had someone they could emotionally bond with deeply off the bat (especially since Takeru had just moved from Sangenjaya), and it’s likely why they kept gravitating towards each other (despite never truly talking about anything in-depth for most of the series) up until the Jogress arc.

In other words, while the Adventure kids’ adventure of self-actualization meant that their relationships to each other were mainly formed on simply understanding that they had a similar experience and empathizing, the 02 kids -- full of a group of somewhat socially maladjusted and out of place kids, plus two who had been on the prior adventure but were young enough to now still be carrying some deep-seated, unresolved emotional baggage -- were in a position where they arguably needed each others’ help to grow.

Jogress isn’t just an obligatory evolution gimmick; it’s something very important to 02 as a series and understanding what it wants to say about relationships. I think one thing that makes me very sad is how often its constant pigeonholing as a gimmick makes me hear people saying that Daisuke and Ken was the only plot-relevant one and the rest were forced “spares”, saying that something like Takeru-Hikari and Miyako-Iori would make more sense. But when the point of the series is about building your relationships from scratch and learning to grow together, I really don’t feel that a story about relationships that naturally existed already would have helped it nearly as much. It’s not like Daisuke and Ken was that likely of a friendship, either!

This is especially in the case of Takeru and Hikari, who certainly were vibing pretty well with each other, but were still very emotionally closed-in with a lot of emotional baggage until the more to-the-point Miyako and Iori were able to break through their shells. (02 episode 13 is so often considered a “Takeru and Hikari bonding” episode, but while it does do a lot to show off the depth of their relationship that hadn’t been depicted much besides them just hanging out all the time, it also does not solve Hikari’s core problem in nearly the same way Miyako gets to the bottom of it in episode 31.) This is also why Takeru and Hikari have such a different relationship with the 02 kids compared to theirs with the Adventure kids; while they were largely tagging along with the older kids and learning a bit about inner strength back during their summer adventure, the 02 group is the one who not only provided them with friendship on a more equal peer level, but also poked deeply into their emotional issues that they very much needed others to help them out of. These are friends who finally get them.

That Ken ultimately becomes yet another addition to this group of kids in need of friends finding support in each other should go without saying -- after all, it’s made abundantly clear he was very lonely and friendless until Daisuke and the others reached out to him -- but it ultimately culminates in them choosing to integrate this lonely boy from Tamachi into their social life. (Remember: Ken is the only of the six 02 kids to live in Tamachi and not Odaiba, but the last quarter of the series has them going out of their way to meet up.) The episode that establishes that everyone has truly made their peace with Ken and wants to unequivocally support him (with the most originally stubborn against it, Iori, graciously accepting him) is sealed off with a Christmas party. A completely ordinary Christmas party that has nothing to do with the Digimon incidents at hand, where they can play meaningless card games and celebrate the little things like Ken laughing, because it’s not just forgiving him or learning to work with him, but actively enjoying his presence and supporting him.

The Digimon Animation Chronicle profile for Ken in Diablomon Strikes Back refers to him as Daisuke’s “best friend” (親友). Usually, the word for “friends” within Adventure and 02 would be nakama (仲間); you may have heard this word from One Piece fans, but this is a word that roughly means “one of us” and has a stronger emphasis on being in a certain group, or being like-minded. Thus, “you’re a Chosen Child like us,” or, more pertinently, “you have the same goal as us and we’re in this together” (after all, it’s not like being a Chosen Child was ever an exclusive club or anything).

But in the case of Daisuke and Ken’s relationship, it’s not just about having happened to gain a deep bond over the course of 02, it’s that Daisuke now really does have a sense of emotional closeness to Ken that the two are considered best friends by default -- in any situation, despite him living all the way in Tamachi. Even though the franchise loves to put them in the category that “protagonists and rivals” usually get, where most others are ones who tend to have friction but understand each other in the end, Daisuke and Ken are unique in that they’re not like that at all. They have a very straightforward sense of emotionally confiding in each other, at worst maybe lightly bantering a bit, but they are friends before anything else, and that extends to the rest of the 02 group as well.

The aftermath

On its face, it sounds like the 02 kids are getting a pretty luxurious deal -- they got a fun adventure of emotional growth out of it, and they’re tight friends with each other at that! Well, that probably sounds great, but there’s a flip side to all of this.

Firstly, as I mentioned earlier, the Adventure kids’ adventure in 1999 was a lot more “romantic” than the 02 kids’ eight-month-long ordeal. Sure, a lot of it definitely was stressful, what with the running for their lives and the scary villains and the emotional conflict, but there was also the part about getting to meet Gennai and the other friendly Digimon around and getting to explore villages. They were on summer break, so they didn’t even really have to worry about school (especially once they realized time dilation was a thing); it’s basically the epitome of the romantic coming-of-age story. (Fun fact: Stand By Me is really culturally influential in Japan.)

02, on the other hand, was an eight-month-long ordeal of having to fight a territory war crammed into the after-hours of school, juggling fighting this war with keeping it from parents, in a fight that would retroactively turn out to be against what would later become a heavily traumatized and beloved friend, plus eventually watching him get subject to even worse trauma. Oh, and the series also ended on witnessing a bunch of deaths (or in other words, the worst New Year’s Eve ever). While it seemed like the kids had the luxury of enjoying the Digital World in ways the Adventure kids couldn’t at first, actually, they didn’t get to enjoy as much of it at all, since they never got to form any lasting relationships with anyone like Gennai or Elecmon. These kids were basically too busy trying to keep each others’ heads on straight to really be able to focus on that.

The comparative mess that the 02 kids went through, and the messes that they kind of are, means that they’re rather dependent on each other for emotional support. This is not inherently a bad thing, mind you; the fact that some people are more independent than others is a simple fact of life, and the 02 kids (whether it’s from naturally being a bit misfit or from the degree of their experiences) being the type who grow together with mutual support isn’t inherently anything bad. It does, however, mean that they’re likely to have some difficulties ahead coming out of 02 as “growing up” conspires to make it more and more difficult for them to stick together -- after all, how many people have actually been able to stick with their elementary school friends all the way into adulthood? This is especially because Japanese high schools admit students by examination, and rank by academic ability; it’s not particularly common for those from the same elementary/middle school to attend the same high school, even if they live close to each other, and it’s very unlikely that all of them will be sticking together in school by that point.

So, how did they fare?

Well, before we get into anything else, we should probably bring up one thing that seems like such a tiny little detail but is actually very important for this: Technology didn’t stagnate at 02′s D-Terminals, and by the time of Kizuna in 2010, smartphones and group chats existed! (Earlier than they did in real life, at that.) This is actually really important because of how much it does for that question of “how to keep in contact when circumstances like school keep you apart” -- especially when the Adventure group would certainly appreciate the method to keep in touch despite their lives largely getting increasingly separate. That, and even more so if other similar technological things like social media existed; there’s a lot of ways to keep in touch despite physical and circumstantial distance.

Of course, they’d been keeping in touch via email since 02, but a group chat is much lower pressure and actively encourages everyone to keep in touch; think about how useful group chats have been for connecting with your own longtime friends. It’s ambiguous whether the 02 group was privy to this particular chat from To Sora given that they were clearly on call for incidents like the Parrotmon one, but it’s also entirely possible that this is a room for The Ones Who Went on That One Adventure in August 1999, especially since they use the Crests as their icons, and the 02 group has their own (let’s be real, they totally would; think about how many Discord servers with overlapping people you might be in right now). This, combined with the fact that the Adventure and 02 groups seem to have formed a sort of recon squad for the increasing number of Digimon incidents in Tokyo, means that there are actually a lot more opportunities to stay involved with each other than ever before!

As it seems, the Adventure group does seem to be rather emotionally close to the point that Taichi is willing to reach out to Yamato simply to dump his emotional troubles about his future career prospects on him (despite them going to very different universities at this point). Yet, at the same time, there’s still a palpable sense of distance going on here, and a depiction of Taichi and Yamato having developed separate social lives and their own friend circles -- Taichi with Morikawa and Nemoto, and Yamato with Abe (their names come from the novel), who are also acquainted with each other enough to talk about career and worry about each other.

When Taichi and Yamato talk over beer, they don’t even have updates on the same people (Yamato has to update Taichi on Sora and Takeru’s status), and ultimately, Yamato comments on their drifting -- saying that it’s a potentially inevitable part of choosing one’s path. It’s not hard to see why he says this; it’s been a recurring theme for them since after the events of Adventure. Sora and Mimi haven’t been around for Digimon incidents lately because of their careers, and it’s highly likely Jou hasn’t either; Koushirou keeps in touch, but our only depictions have been in the range of business and Digimon incidents.

But for the 02 group? Absolutely not.

The Kizuna drama CD has a lot about what the 02 group was doing (and planning to do) during their little “vacation” in New York. In fact, there’s a lot to go on about here:

Daisuke and Takeru show up together even though Iori was allegedly said to be “first” approached, meaning the two of them were basically hanging out anyway.

Daisuke insists on going on a trip that’s about his own personal career with friends -- and not just any friends, but specifically the group of himself, Ken, Miyako, Iori, Takeru, and Hikari. He also wanted his seniors along, but they were too busy -- but it’s pointed out that the other 02 group members aren’t exactly full of free time either, meaning that these five have a special place of importance to Daisuke in his ramen career trip.

Even the Digimon are aware of what the other humans (the ones that aren’t even their partners!) have been up to lately.

Miyako and Hawkmon say that it’s only natural for them to show up when the group is getting together -- i.e. being with this specific company is a fact of life to her, to the point she invents D-3 gate exploitation to be with them.

The group keeps saying “it’s been a while” for periods of time in which it is made pretty obvious it’s actually not a lot of time at all. (Miyako had just left for Spain to the point her coming back elicits an “already?!” kind of reaction, yet that constitutes “a while”, and the most likely very short time between the trip planning and the movie is also apparently “a while”, and it’s very likely that Takeru’s “a while” in greeting Iori may well have not been that long, either.) It really makes you think about how often the people in this group must be meeting up to think that this constitutes “a while”...

Hikari is ready to fight people for denying her the chance to play with Miyako.

Beyond that, they’ve all apparently been regular enough presences in Daisuke’s life for completely offhand comments and actions to have major impacts on his career thoughts.

In the movie itself, Miyako refuses to take on the exact same request that she ultimately gladly participates in with the rest of the 02 group in New York -- presumably, because the fact her friends are there makes it all better.

As it turns out, despite everything -- despite everyone going in completely different directions with their careers, attending different schools (Iori’s still in high school while everyone else is in university!), the 02 group has been maintaining this attitude of going out of their way to hang out with each other, in a sort of “we do it together, or we don’t do it at all” sense. Of course, that’s not to say they’ve all stayed so socially maladjusted that they’ve become completely incapable of making any other friends at all, but there is a very clear, strong preference of them wanting to be in each other’s specific company to the point that they would do ridiculous things to make it work.

So, you might be asking: what’s the trade-off?

Yamato attributes the alienation between the Adventure group to “choosing one’s own path”. Inherently, this is not quite right (nor is the sentiment that “choices are bad” in general), especially considering that Daisuke, Iori, and Hikari already made their choices in path a long time ago, yet are still behaving like this. The question is actually more of priorities; notice that while the older Adventure characters are mainly portrayed in Kizuna as aggressively pursuing career prospects, the 02 characters, despite having their current educational statuses listed in their profiles, simply seem to have this as not an object.

Iori’s still in school uniform; he’s arguably cramming this all between school club obligations. Ken, Miyako, Takeru, and Hikari don’t have their current educational status involved at all, and even though Daisuke’s ramen trip is technically for his future career, he’s also happy to just “play around” about sightseeing (and, again, there’s also no reason he needed to bring his friends for this). Takeru’s working on his novel, but he hasn’t actually decided it’ll be his career yet. It’s not about whether they’ve made choices or not; it’s about the fact they’re going about this remarkably casually to the point where maintaining their relationship with their friends is more important than career. And this extends to the 02 epilogue as well; compared to their seniors’ more prominent history-making careers, the 02 group’s is more low-scale and community-oriented (the only exception being Sora, but even that ties into individual ambition more than anything else, considering that not succeeding her mother is already a pretty big deal in itself).

The take-home

Adventure and 02 are both very well-known for showcasing people with different personalities and goals in life, and celebrating their differences. I think, personally, the difference between the Adventure and 02 groups’ dynamics is also something that reflects on the different ways to live one’s life as well. This is especially something that most of us can probably understand well now that we’re adults looking back at this, especially in light of Kizuna.

There are some of us who really want to do large-scale things in this world, and will need that understanding of the self to get there but may struggle with maintaining consistent friendships on that turbulent path, and have to adapt by managing the different levels of their relationships and learning to get along with different people in different ways. There are some of us who gain happiness more from mutual support with the people around us even if it means not ostensibly achieving as “great” things, and feel most comfortable with a single consistent set of friends. Some of us are in between, or feel elements of both as we try to experiment with things in life (actually, I’m pretty sure that’s probably most of us to some degree).

Think about your own life and future prospects right now, and then think about the friends you may be in touch with, or haven’t been in touch with for a while, or the ones you talk to for different purposes or fulfill different niches in your life. We’re all trying to straddle this balance; there’s no one right way to live.

[brockadoodles]

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

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

Pairing: brock boeser x female OC 

Word Count: 38,421

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

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

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

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

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

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

Olive is always late. Be there soon. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You busy tomorrow morning? 

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

For you? Always free 😚 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reminds me of Elias.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm?” She answered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey Ollie,” Brock sighed into the phone as he stood up. 

“Okay, what’s wrong,” Olive laughed, not meaning to make fun of Brock but noticing immediately the melancholiness that he was hiding in his voice.

“If I tell you, you can’t laugh at me,” Brock joked, switching the call to FaceTime so that he could see her. Olive smiled at him through the screen, her messy bun sitting almost perfectly on top of her head and her glasses pushed up on her forehead. He couldn’t help but notice that she was wearing his old sweatshirt, the one that she had brought to Thanksgiving but never actually gave back. Seeing her in his clothes was almost like he had a piece of her, something that he knew he wanted. Olive rolled her eyes slightly, a teasing smile on her red lips as she urged him to continue. All Brock did was show her the mess he had made on the floor. When he flipped the camera back to him he could see that she was walking, and he heard keys jingling in her hands as she moved around her apartment. 

“Senseless: Lacking common sense,” she teased as she struggled to lock her door one handed, adding, “I’ll tell you what, I will forgive you for obviously not being able to take me out to a fancy restaurant in Yaletown tonight to celebrate my dissertation if, and only if there is Greek food on the way to your place by the time I get there and you get those horrendous lights somewhere that I will not ever see them.” 

“Deal, babe,” Brock laughed, already moving to throw the tangled lights back into the bin that they came from.    

When Olive showed up at his apartment 30 minutes later complaining about the traffic, he already had Greek food as promised from her favorite place sitting on the counter waiting for her. She walked in, wearing his old sweatshirt and a pair of grey leggings, hair up as always and even in her relaxed state he thought she was the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen. 

“God, what did I ever do to deserve you, Brock Boeser?” Olive moaned as she pulled herself from his arms and started opening the bag, the delightful smells filling the air around them as she handed him a container. 

“Careful, you might regret that statement when you start helping me decorate,” He said as he took the container from her hands, letting his fingers brush hers gently. 

“I get you, Christmas decorations, and Greek food, nothing could ever be better than that, Brockadoodle,” She smiled and Brock nearly melted into a puddle on the floor, the stupid nickname toasting his heart each time she said it. Olive was so different from him in so many ways, she was smarter, louder, and more sure of herself than he ever was or had been. But his favorite thing was that he no longer could count on one hand the things he was starting to love about her, he found himself studying the small mannerisms that you don’t notice about a person until you’re falling in love, and while there was still a metaphorical fence separating the two of them, he was already building an arsenal of tools to start tearing it down. 

The two of them decorated for hours, laughter and distractions coming between them as the sun went down and the city lights illuminated through the room from the floor to ceiling windows in his living room. Olive let out a satisfied sigh as she flicked off the living room light, letting the white Christmas lights sparkle around the room. The moment felt almost too domestic, especially when Brock came up behind her and wrapped his arms around the middle of her, pressing a soft kiss onto her shoulder and muttering a soft thank you to her. She placed her hands over his and patted them lightly, her smile growing along with the butterflies that he always seemed to put into her stomach. 

“They’re going to love it,” she whispered, her heart heavy with the realization that this wasn’t for her, this wasn’t a Christmas that they were spending together, because they weren’t together. Olive slipped from his arms and went over to the couch, settling in next to Milo who was currently sleeping. She shook any heaviness from her heart as she patted the spot next to her and Brock walked over. 

“Are you staying tonight?” He asked, hopeful that the answer was yes. 

“Mhm,” Olive nodded, pulling the blanket over both of their laps and settling back into his arms while he turned on the TV. She snuggled closer to him, resting her hand on his thigh underneath the blanket as she curled her legs behind her and let her eyes close. 

“Enrapture: give intense joy to,” She smiled into his side as she gave him another word for how he made her feel. The words written in her notes slowly become variations and synonyms for the same concept, her falling in love with Brock. It was the only way she knew how to express it to him, giving him subtle hints of it as she drifted asleep, knowing that with the three squeezes he gave to her hand that he felt the same. 

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

A few days later, Brock found himself bickering with Petey as he tried to get the last bit of his Christmas shopping done before the team went on a road trip, coming back just the day before Brock’s whole family came into town.

Brock opened the door to the old bookshop and held it as Petey walked in, the scent of old books lingering in the air. He had been hunting for a first edition copy of Jane Eyre, Olive’s favorite book for weeks. He had sent countless emails to various shops around Vancouver and Victoria, and made several phone calls inquiring about the book before he found this shop, a quaint small family run bookstore on Vancouver Island. When he got the email from the owner saying that they had one copy he was already out with Petey, having no choice but to bring him along or risk the one present that had been the most important for him to find being gone by the time he could come back. So, he asked the shop owner to hold the book, and dragged Petey to the ferry to get to the Island. 

Petey to Brock’s surprise didn’t ask too many questions about how the plans for the afternoon had shifted, and Brock for once was thankful for that stupid Mr. Sensitive nickname that the team had dubbed him with because now he could use that as his excuse for why getting Olive, someone who was just his friend now, such a sentimental Christmas gift. Elias wandered slowly into the bookshop, looking much too modern in his beige Essentials sweatshirt and dark pants in comparison to the warm shop. The shop was something straight out of what he imagined a store like this to look like, with books scattered along old wooden shelves, and a velvet couch sitting at the center of the room, a small black cat sleeping on its cushions. 

Elias walked over to the cat, reaching down to let the small animal sniff his hand and get acquainted with him before scratching it softly behind his ears. 

“That’s Leo,” a sharp but friendly voice called causing both Brock and Elias to look up toward the woman who was coming out from between two shelves, a stack of dusty books cradled in her hands and glasses hanging from a cord around her neck. 

“Well hello, Leo,” Petey greeted the cat, continuing to softly pet him until he heard soft purrs. Brock watched on with an unrecognizable look on his face, not because he didn’t like cats, but because he had never seen a cat in any sort of store before. Petey noticed his friend’s confusion and did not pass up on the opportunity at making a joke to him about it. 

“I know you only like dogs, Boes but you don’t have to stare at poor Leo like he’s ugly,” Elias commented, Brock immediately groaning slightly in response. 

Brock continued to ignore his friend, instead he paid for the book, thanking the woman profusely behind the counter. Elias watched and listened and they spoke, his mind wandering as the words sank in.

“We don’t normally have something like this in stock so when I got your email I knew we had to hold it. Must be for someone special to go through all this effort,” the woman smiled at Brock, a fondness present in her voice that he recognized. Brock smiled softly thinking about it, for a moment he forgot that Petey was within earshot and he almost let himself confess to this woman who owned a quaint little bookshop, something that Olive had always wanted to do. But then Elias came walking up, grabbing the book from his hands and he remembered that he couldn’t say how he truly felt, instead masking his feelings as best he could as he nodded. 

“Just a friend,” he smiled and Elias scoffed, knowing that this gift was far too special for it to be for just a friend. 

As the two of them walked out of the store, Elias didn’t say anything. He chose to live in his own world of denial, one that ignored the events that had just happened because if he were to face them he would have to face the fact that his closest friends had been lying to him and had gone behind his back in the exact way that he practically begged them not to. Instead he did what he knew how to do best, cracking a joke about Brock being too sensitive for his own good and then changing the subject as they continued with the rest of their shopping. 

Days later, Olive was sitting in her kitchen, frustration growing within herself as her own procrastination had taken over. She took a sip of the now cold coffee that had been sitting on the table next to her as another far too confusing video about how to hand bind a book played on her computer screen. There were papers scattered everywhere, various notes and lists of words that reminded her of Brock and how he made her feel, some that she had read in books of her own and others that she went searching for because her own feelings became too much and she needed the simplicity of putting them into one word for him. It was late and she had to literally give him this tomorrow, cursing herself for procrastinating so badly on his gift. Brock had made her feel so many of the things that she never knew another person was capable of making her feel and even if it took all night until her fingers cramped, she was determined to bind this damn book for him. 

She nearly cried as she held the finished book in her hands, the binding was terrible, and the writing on the inside was messy but she had finished it, and for it being nearly two in the morning that was enough for her. Olive was never one for crafts, her artistic abilities had stopped with horrible crayon drawings that her mother used to display on the fridge from when she was five. She was a reader, a philosopher when it came to spoken and written words, she wasn’t a crafty person by any means, but she was proud of this and hoped that Brock was receptive and not off put by the gift. 

She chose to wrap it in a small bag, setting it on the counter by her keys so that she wouldn’t forget it the following morning when she left for his house. She went through her nighttime routine, a small smile on her lips as she thought about seeing Brock the next day and giving it to him as she fell asleep. 

Olive was nervous as she drove the now familiar route to Brock’s condo. She knew that his family was in town and had told him that they could exchange their gifts after the New Year once things had settled down, but Brock was insistent that they needed to do it before Christmas. So, Olive found herself driving through the windy streets on a small detour on her way out of the city to her own childhood home in Kelowna. She had her favorite Christmas album playing softly from the car stereo as she rationalized and talked softly with herself that this wasn’t a big deal and she might not even meet anyone in his family. 

She typed in the gate code that she had memorized over the last few months and pulled her car into the guest spot, seeing Brock’s Range Rover parked next to it. She rolled her eyes, thinking again about how impractical that car was and reminding herself that Brock wasn’t exactly normal as she stepped out of her own car. She smoothed out her tights, a dark green suede skirt falling a few inches above her knees, a cream colored oversized knit sweater keeping the top part of her warm. Her hair was in her signature messy bun on top of her head, and glasses resting on her nose.

She anxiously brushed the stray hairs from her eyes with one hand as she held onto the small wrapped bag in the other as she stepped into the elevator. She walked slowly out of the elevator and down the hall to the front door she had seen many times over the last few months as she tried to give herself an encouraging pep talk about how this wasn’t that weird of a situation and Brock would surely like the gift she had picked out for him. She bit her lip slightly as she raised her hand to knock on his door, the gold bracelets on her wrist dangling as she knocked three times. When the door opened she was met with a familiar face that she had seen in many photographs scattered through Brock’s condo. 

“Dad, I got it!” She heard Brock’s voice from down the hall, his footsteps coming quickly after. Brock’s dad smiled at her warmly, stepping aside so she could come in. She looked around, noticing the tree set up in the living room with a humble amount of presents underneath it. There was a beautiful flower arrangement on his counter, something she only assumed his mom must have picked out since Brock was hopeless when it came to flowers, and the Christmas decorations that she had helped him with just days prior sprinkled throughout the kitchen and leading into the living room. She could hear various voices coming from around the corner and she felt a bit awkward and like she was invading their family time as she stood there in his kitchen, a bit out of place.

Brock rounded the corner and her eyes widened at the sight of him. He was wearing an ugly Christmas sweater, with a reindeer on the front of it, dark jeans, and bright red socks. His hair was sticking slightly out of the black beanie that he had on his head and she could tell he had freshly shaved. He looked good, even in his tacky yet endearing holiday sweater. But what caught her attention most was the little boy in his arms at his hip. She recognized him immediately as his nephew who he had told her so much about, and her heart dropped to her stomach at the sight of Brock with the toddler. Seeing it in photos was one thing, but with him standing in front of her, a bright smile on his face and his nephew in his arms, she might have collapsed right there if not for knowing his dad was just feet away watching this exchange occur. 

The little boy waved excitedly at Olive, twisting himself in Brock’s arms to reach out toward her. Brock settled him down, lowering him onto his feet while holding his hands up so that he could stand. 

“Easton, can you say hi to Olive?” He said to the boy, squatting down so that he was as level as he could be with him and taking Easton’s hand and directing it toward Olive. It didn’t take long for him to break from Brock’s light hold, tumbling over toward Olive before she could fully react. She panicked as Easton grabbed onto her tights, wrapping both of his small sweater covered arms around her calves and Brock chuckled softly in the background. She looked over to Brock with pleading eyes, not wanting to overstep any boundaries by picking the young boy up. 

“Careful buddy, you don’t want to knock the pretty girl over,” she heard his dad say from behind her, nodding softly at Brock before exiting the room and leaving Olive alone there with Easton on her legs and Brock smiling adoringly in front of her. 

“Let’s go to my room, yeah?” Brock asked, leaning down to pick up his nephew and lead her further into his condo that she knew well. He handed the toddler back to his brother, quickly introducing Olive to everyone before grabbing her hand and lacing his fingers through hers as he tugged her toward his bedroom. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure that his entire family probably heard it. All she could focus on was that Brock was holding her hand, he had held her hand in front of his entire family, and her mind was going in circles over the simple show of affection as they went into his room, leaving the door slightly open. 

Brock dropped her hand and Olive quickly tried to recover from the slight pang of sadness that she felt from the loss of contact. Brock handed her the package, it was poorly wrapped and very obviously a book, but she already loved it anyways. 

“Open yours first, Ollie.” Brock said. She carefully handed him the bag, biting her lip softly as she carefully ripped the messily wrapped rectangular shaped present. She let out a small gasp when she realized what it was, letting her hands run over the worn out pages as she took a step toward Brock.

“How did you find this?” She asked him. She had been looking for a first edition for what felt like months, having visited what felt like almost every bookstore in the city multiple times looking for it. Brock ran a hand nervously through his hair, a soft blush and smile present in his features.

“I, uh, found it at this small place on Vancouver Island, went out there last week.” He shrugged, doing his best at ignoring the fact that this much effort was not normal for friends. He swallowed nervously as Olive walked toward him and settled into his arms, her fingers sliding around his sides before one hand pressed against his jaw.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she leaned in. This was it, he was finally going to kiss Olive, a moment that was pent up and he had been waiting for since that night in the dive bar all those months ago. Olive’s lips were almost to his as his eyes fluttered closed, just barely grazing before the door flew open and Olive jumped back, coughing lightly and eyes wide open in shock. Easton had tumbled into the room, Brock’s sister in law chasing after him and picking him up. She clearly read the room as she smirked toward Brock and a now embarrassed Olive, picking up her son and closing the door behind them as she left. 

“I should, uhm, get back on the road,” Olive stuttered out. 

“Right, yeah,” Brock mumbled out, his lips burning from the almost contact as Olive rushed out of his place, waving goodbye to his family as she left. Brock closed the front door behind her, turning to be faced with every member of his family looking at him in a way that made him want to go back into his room and scream into a pillow. He already had to deal with his own feelings, Olive’s feelings, and Petey’s ridiculous demands, the last thing he wanted to tack onto the list was explaining to his family that she was more than a friend but not his girlfriend yet. 

“I liked your girlfriend, Brock,” His dad smiled and Brock nearly collapsed right there. Of course his dad liked her, another nail in the coffin that contained his desire for Olive to actually be his girlfriend. 

“She’s not my girlfriend, dad.” Brock shrugged, trying to move on from the subject for the rest of the day as they continued to celebrate the holiday.  

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

Brock could hear the countdown beginning, each one of his friends echoing the numbers down to the New Year, but it all felt like static in the background as he watched Olive. The lights on the roof were dimmed, presumably for the fireworks that were likely going to be set off when time turned to midnight. He looked at Olive and to him she was the brightest thing of the year even if it hadn’t started yet. He stood off to the side with his now empty drink in his hand watching her as she popped open a bottle of some expensive European champagne that Jacob had sworn by as being the best. 

Her gold dress lit up in contrast to her crimson red lips, her long dark hair curled and falling down her back, something that was rare for Olive. Brock’s maroon bomber jacket was hanging from her body, something he had given her just hours before as it started to get dark. But what really was getting to Brock was seeing her laugh as she popped the cork, champagne bubbling out of the bottle and all over the front of her dress. He could hear the countdown hit one as everyone cheered for the new year and he watched as Olive looked around the rooftop, a gorgeous smile on her red lips as she made eye contact with him. She raised the bottle to her lips, taking a long drink before setting it down on the table and walking toward him. With each step she took, her smile grew, and Brock knew right then and there that he loved Olive Burke, champagne stained dress and all. 

Olive came tumbling into Brock, tripping slightly and landing right in his arms, laughing loudly as Brock realized just how much she had to drink that night. He grabbed her waist to steady her as she looked at him, her expression inquisitive and different than he had ever seen her look at him before. Olive and Brock had been dancing around each other since they met, both of them steadily falling into each other with no true intentions of stopping. There was a roadblock though, and as Brock looked at the girl he somehow fell in love with all he could hear in his head was Petey’s disapproval, a steady echo in his mind stopping him from pulling her closer every time. 

 Olive reached her hand up to his hair, running her fingers through it softly as her other hand rested on his chest, sending Brock’s head into a tailspin of worry that she was going to start leaning in. As much as he wanted this and her, he didn’t want it under these circumstances, with Olive having significantly more to drink than he had. It may have hurt to not be able to kiss Olive for New Years, but it would hurt worse for him to know that he had even marginally taken advantage of a situation that she was too drunk to have coherent thoughts over. 

“You’re so pretty, Brockadoodle.” Olive laughed, leaning her head slightly into his chest, the warmth radiating from his body as they stood on the roof. Fireworks were going off in the distance, lighting up the sky above the water although neither of them were looking. 

“You’re pretty drunk, Ollie.” He smiled at her, watching as her face pulled into a sour look at his lack of acceptance of her compliments. She pouted slightly, leaning her head into his chest and shivering a bit, all of the noise passing by around her as she leaned into Brock. The noise and commotion didn’t matter, all that mattered was him and she knew that this year she was going to be brave. She was going to tell him that she loved him, even if it didn’t end in them together. 

“Will you take me home?” She asked, yawning slightly. Brock steadied her in his arms, setting his glass down and wrapping her hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it as she smiled drunkenly at him. 

“Yeah, Olive, I’ll get you home safe,” he nodded as they left the party together, Elias looking on in the distance but too drunk to fully comprehend what was happening right in front of him. Instead the denial crept back into his head as he watched his friends leave hand in hand on a night where the saying about who you spend the new year with is who you’ll be with that year would ultimately ring true. 

Brock pulled the covers over Olive as she slowly closed her eyes, the drunkenness taking over her body as the room slightly spun around her. Her heart was heavy, the excitement of the night wearing off and the sadness of knowing that she was spending New Years essentially alone kicking in stronger than it would have if she was sober. Brock started to get up, thinking she was already asleep when he was startled by her grabbing his arm slightly.

“Why didn’t you kiss me at midnight?” She whispered, her eyes nearly watering as she sat up in bed to look at him. Olive was never one to shy away from her feelings, when she liked someone, she told them. But Brock was different, he was sweet, and kind, and everything she didn’t know she wanted wrapped up into one person who had steadily become a constant in her mess of a life. She had only known him for such a short time, all things considered, but now she couldn’t picture her life without him. Elias’s words constantly stop her from admitting her feelings for him, a sharp echo of “you’ll run him over and leave him in the dust,” stabbing her in the chest every time she comes close. So for now, she took what she could from Brock, settling on the dance that the two of them kept doing, sharing her love only in written words with the hope that someday he would decipher it. 

Brock frowned, hating that he was unintentionally hurting Olive. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a few seconds while he held her cheek. 

“Happy New Year’s, Ollie.” 

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

When none of the group was voted in for the All-Star game that year, Olive knew they should take advantage of the week off together, suggesting that they all go out to Whistler and get a cabin, an idea that secretly she knew Brock would love because he was always down for things involving the snow. Largely everyone agreed, and so she found herself settling into a beautiful rented cabin with Brock, Elias, Quinn, and Quinn’s girlfriend on their way to the mountains. 

“Really? Neither of you are willing to go?” Brock sighed, looking at Petey and Quinn pointedly. Petey shrugged his shoulders, mumbling something about not wanting to be cold and Quinn actively ignored the question and got up and left the room.

“Ollie,” Brock looked at Olive, who was sitting at the kitchen counter, a mug of tea in her hands, actively trying to ignore the conversation that had been taking place. She set her mug down, looking over at Brock. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go, it was quite the opposite really. 

Brock was standing there, eyes soft as he watched her, a dark green beanie covering his hair, a thick grey sweatshirt on his body. Olive had to shake the thoughts she had been having about him all morning. She was still recovering from seeing him sleepy when he first woke up, his breath hot on her neck while he reached around her to grab his own mug of coffee, a soft good morning coming from his tired, thick voice. His lips had ghosted softly over her neck, a moment that was ripped too soon when he seemed to wake up a bit more and remember that this wasn’t what either of them thought it was. He couldn’t just kiss her good morning like she wanted him to, so the moment passed without words, an awkward dance in the hours before Elias and Autumn retreated from their beds. 

Brock wordlessly left the kitchen after that moment, taking Olive’s breath with him as he did, and she had spent the rest of the morning actively trying to avoid his presence. But with him standing near her once more, looking like the boyfriend she wanted him to be, she found herself humming in agreement on going sledding with him, heart rate rising as his smile increased after she had said yes. 

Olive was borderline panicking, wondering why she had to be so infatuated with the boy looking at her. She adjusted the dark blue beanie on her head, and zipped up her parka, an added layer of protection over her heart to hopefully prevent Brock from invading into her any further. She plastered on a fake smile, an attempt at covering the nerves that were racing through her body as she kept trying to remind herself that this was no big deal, just sledding with a friend. 

Brock opened the door to the SUV and gestured for Olive to get in, watching as she tried to get settled with her large puffy coat on. He was standing there debatably too long, admiring the little flakes of snow scattered in the ends of her hair that were hanging out of the beanie he lent her. He felt a strange pull of affection at the idea of her in his clothes, a picture entering his mind of seeing her in the morning, one of his sweatshirts draped over her body as he kissed her. 

“Brock, are we going or are you just going to stand there holding the door,” Olive’s tone was light, and it caused his picture to fade, a slight heat rising to his face as if he was caught doing something wrong. Brock liked Olive, as so much more than a friend, and when her smirk softened into a smile, he felt as if he saw his own feelings reflecting back at him through her eyes.

“You look like a cute marshmallow.” He said, a grin on his face and affection in his eyes. Olive blushed slightly at his words that did nothing to calm the beat of her heart as she rolled her eyes at Brock, barely skipping a beat as she responded with a cheeky comment of her own.

“Thank you, I will be expecting a letter of appreciation for my impact when you make me s’mores later.” 

“Anything for you, Ollie,” Brock responded, handing her his phone as he turned on the car, giving her free reign of the music that would softly play in the background as they drove on toward the small town. 

Brock drove carefully down the highway, dark green trees covered in snow on either side. It reminded him a bit of the scene in Minnesota where he grew up, cold winters with endless snowfall. But the difference here was that he had Olive next to him, the girl who he had grown so fond of over the last few months, humming softly along to the song playing through the speakers, watching as the trees flew by. Winter didn’t seem so cold with her there, and for a moment he forgot about Petey asking him not to fall for her, he didn’t think about the fact that this was a short week trip in the middle of the season, all that was dancing through his mind was the girl in the passenger seat next to him and how he was going to finally have the resolve to kiss her today.

They quickly rented a sled, his contract preventing them from anything more physical than that like skiing or snowboarding, and headed off toward the bunny slopes. They struggled to get the sled underneath them, Brock insisting he could do it as he pushed them off to start going down the mountain, his arms wrapped tightly around her as she was sitting in between his legs. It was all going well until he tried to turn, sending them tumbling out of the slide and into the snow. 

Olive laughed loudly as Brock fell on top of her, reacting quickly to catch himself so that he wouldn’t land on her or hurt her. Her laugh was his favorite song, something that he could set on repeat and listen to for hours, not because it was particularly beautiful, but because each time she laughed it was genuine and the happiness that radiated from her was something he never wanted to stop seeing. 

It would be so easy for him to kiss her, with her hair wildy spread out in the snow, flakes of it coming down and melting on her warm cheeks, Olive looking at him like she was standing on the dock, hand reaching out and ready for him to make the jump with her. His body was flushed against hers, hovered over her in a way that felt comfortable and right, visions of what this would be like if the setting were different clouding his judgement. He stayed hovered over Olive for a moment, watching as her eyes flicked down to his lips and back up, hope flashing through his mind that if he did kiss her, she would kiss him back. All of the commotion around them seemingly evaporated as he stayed there, her hand steady on his side, his body hovering over hers, snow indented behind them from where they slid off of the path. 

“Can I kiss you?” Brock whispered as he leaned even closer, his own stomach twisting with nerves as he looked down at Olive for her answer. When she slowly nodded, he felt like his chest was going to explode as he leaned in. Suddenly, time wasn’t passing leisurely anymore, it was quick as he leaned down and pressed his lips softly to hers.  

Olive reacted quickly to the kiss, months of pent up glances and moments where she thought this very thing was going to happen causing her to ignore all of the reasons why it shouldn’t. She reached her hand up, pulling Brock even closer to her than he already was as she kissed him back, her heart doing flips in her chest and her body lighting up with each passing second. 

Everything about the kiss felt right to Olive. She had spent so long dancing on this tightrope with Brock that it felt like one of those slow motion scenes in a bad Hallmark Christmas movie, where the characters would finally pull together and realize their feelings. But this wasn’t a movie, and there wasn’t a Christmas love story to be had for Brock and Olive in late January. 

Brock pulled himself from her, offering a smile that was quite possibly the most incredible smile Olive had seen from him as he held his hand out to her to help pull her up. When she was standing and facing him, she leaned up and kissed him softly once more, savoring the feeling of her lips on his, the threads of her heart seaming together as she was able to add the first real tally to the list of almost encounters, ones that had been haunting her thoughts since that night in September when Brock had shown up, crashing completely into her with his lopsided smile, bad taste in beer, and a slightly sunburnt nose.

Olive felt indescribable as she walked through the small town, hand tightly wrapped in Brock’s. For the first time since meeting him she felt like they were where they were supposed to be. They continued walking back toward the car, having stopped in a small cafe for a hot chocolate, something that Olive had insisted was necessary after a day in the snow.

“Brock, stop! You’re going to make me spill this” Olive laughed as Brock pulled her by the waist further into his arms. He was pressing soft kisses to her cheeks that were still tinted pink from the cold. 

“I just really like kissing you,” he responded as he brought his right hand up to Olive’s cheek, kissing her softly for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon. It was something Olive wasn’t growing tired of, all of the pent up feelings for the boy standing in front of her fluttering into the open in a way that they hadn’t been able to before. 

After helping Olive into the car, Brock reached over and grabbed her hand once more, threading his fingers with hers as he drove down the highway back to the cabin. Both of them were on edge as they thought about what this afternoon had meant, and how they were going to tell their friend who seemed to want nothing to do with the idea of them being together. Olive was bouncing her knee slightly as they got closer to the cabin and Brock put the car into park, neither of them making a move toward getting out of the car and going inside. 

“What are we going to tell him?” Olive was the first to break the silence that had been growing between them. Her voice was soft and hesitant as she spoke and she was desperately trying to keep her own insecurities down as she waited for Brock’s response. She knew what she wanted, she wanted to walk into that house with Brock by her side and she wanted her best friend to accept and be happy for them. But that desire was a large one, and even though Brock had given her every indication that he wanted all of that and more with her, if he didn’t say that it would probably crush her in a way that she wasn’t prepared to handle. 

Olive bit her lip as Brock squeezed her hand softly. He turned his body in the car, unwrapping his fingers from hers and instead bringing his hand softly to her cheek, pulling her a bit to look at him as he spoke. 

“I want you, I’ve wanted you since I met you, Olive. You’re this incredible, whirlwind of a person and you’re absolutely too smart and beautiful and overall good for me but somehow you tumbled into my life and have had a hold on my heart since.” 

Olive looked into his eyes and found nothing but sincerity in them. She smiled into his hand and leaned forward to kiss him once more.

“I like you so much,” she said against his lips, leaning her body over the center console to be as close to him as possible in such a small space, not preparing for what was potentially to come. In that moment, none of it mattered. It didn’t matter that Elias didn’t want them together, it didn’t matter that she had never been able to open up to someone in the way that she had with Brock, and it didn’t matter that she was terrified at the idea of what this could become. All that mattered to Olive was Brock, and she would do anything she could to hold onto him for as long as possible. 

“I like you too, Ollie, so much,” He whispered, pulling her in once more before bracing himself for the conversation with Petey that was likely to follow. Brock felt safe with Olive, he didn’t feel like he was compromising his heart by handing it over to her, he felt like he was investing it into something that would grow and evolve into a love that he didn’t know he ever wanted. He gave her one last kiss before they both got out of the car, lacing their fingers together yet again as they walked up to the front porch and into the house. 

Brock helped Olive get out of her coat, hanging the oversized parka on the metal coat rack by the door before looking around the hallway slightly to see if anyone would catch him stealing one more kiss. He felt like they were lovestruck teenagers, the thrill of sneaking around getting a bit to his head as he pulled her in one last time, pressing his lips softly to hers while she ran her hands through his hair. She grabbed his hand once more, leading him further into the house. 

Petey looked up from his spot on the old craftsman style couch, not noticing their entwined hands and rosy cheeks. The truth was that his mood was far too sour to notice the shift in dynamic between Brock and Olive. 

“Where’s Quinn?” Brock asked, still holding Olive’s hand from behind the counter. She looked up at him slightly, squeezing his fingers reassuringly before looking back toward Elias who had a scowl on his face.

“He and his girlfriend went out, not sure where.” Elias shrugged, taking a sip of his tea and quickly adding,

“I’m so glad you two aren’t together or this would be the worst trip now.” 

Olive frowned at his words, her head starting to spin and guilt over kissing Brock pooling in her stomach. But what hurt the most, was how quickly Brock had dropped her hand, her heart cracking just enough to make her throat close up at the loss of the sensation of Brock’s fingers threaded through hers. She did her best to let the moment pass, plastering on a fake smile as she excused herself from the kitchen, ruffling Elias’s hair softly as she walked by to get to her room, words dripping sarcastically from her lips,

“Right, well, you don’t have to worry about that.” 

Brock tried to pretend that the words coming from his friend didn’t hurt and that he didn’t feel like he had everything ripped right out from underneath him as Petey made the offhand comment. He sighed as he retreated back to his own room to gather his thoughts. He felt completely stuck at an intersection, where if he turned right he would be met with Olive, the girl who had been occupying his thoughts since September, who he had finally kissed just hours earlier after months of daring himself to make it happen. If he were to turn left, he would be met with losing Olive in the way that he wanted her most but he would keep his heart guarded because according to Petey, Olive was only capable of crushing his heart not cradling it. It was beginning to feel like it wasn’t Olive that could hurt him, it was actually Petey. 

Brock took an hour to himself and tried to consolidate his thoughts well enough to be able to talk to Olive. He knew that they couldn’t pretend that the kisses and admissions of affection from that afternoon hadn’t have happened, and he knew now thanks to Petey’s comment that they needed to have a definitive conversation about what it all meant. Brock walked over to Olive’s door, bringing his hand up and tentatively knocking on the soft wood. When she answered, he could tell that she had cried and that made his chest tighten even more than it already had as she stepped aside, motioning for him to come into the room. 

Olive crawled back into her bed, bringing the dark green comforter back up to her chest as she watched Brock sit down. He ran a hand through his hair, his mind grappling with what he wanted to say to her. He hated that he could see in her expression how hurt she already was, and he wanted nothing more than to be the one helping slow her tears rather than the one who caused them. But he kept grappling over the scenario in his mind, trying to convince himself that chalking the kiss up to a mistake was what produced the best outcome for everyone involved. 

“I’m sorry,” were the only words he knew how to say to the girl who was near tears again in front of him, because those were the only words he could come up with that would be true. Olive nodded, turning her head to look away from him, catching her gaze on the navy blue notebook that she always carried with her. 

“Miscalculation: an error or misjudgement,” she whispered, eyes filling with tears as she tried to avoid Brock’s expression. 

“Yeah.” Brock smiled sadly, hating that this was the outcome of what had been such a happy moment between them before, her lack of words confirming what he walked into that room already knowing. The weight of the words from earlier in the afternoon stepping heavily on both of their hearts. Maybe it was true what they said about timing, how sometimes no matter how right a person is, the situation or timing isn’t right. She couldn’t help but think about how different things would have been if she had met Brock first and not Elias, because she was so sure that her soul belonged with his. But if there was one thing about Olive it was that she would always let herself down before her friends, and if this was that important to Elias for them to not see each other, she would come to live with that no matter how much it crushed her in the process. 

The discussion turned down a path that Olive absolutely hated, but had to walk on for the sake of everyone else’s happiness around her. Olive hated disappointing anyone, and the idea that what her and Brock did behind Elias’s back was eating away at her, even if it felt right in the moment. She wanted more than anything to have given Brock her heart and faced Elias hoping that he cared enough about both of them as a friend to be happy that they were happy. But Brock unknowingly tossed the box with her heart in it out as soon as he dropped her hand earlier that afternoon, a clear sign that whatever this was that was developing between them wasn’t worth the risk, and Olive found herself reminded of why she usually left before letting her heart get wrapped up in someone else in the first place. 

She found herself laying there in bed and letting the tears fall silently down her cheeks as Brock sat there silent. It wasn’t fair in the moment, but she was so hurt by how quickly Brock had given up that she wanted nothing to do with him for at least a few hours. She just wanted to lay in her bed and cry, and then maybe pull out her notebook and scribble out all of the words that she had written about her falling in love with him.  

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

It was stupid really, how easily she let herself fall back into things with Brock after the trip in January. How quickly her lists became littered again with words that reminded her of him, each scribbled down in dark ink on various post-its littering the confines of the object that provided her the most sense of security. She wasn’t sure why she agreed to come up to the roof with him that night, why she felt like it would do anything but pull her heart apart more being up there in such a romantic setting when she knew that things between them could never fully transpire. But it was Brock, and all he had to do was smile at her a certain way and she would be there. She would hate herself for it, but Brock had always been just as close to her as she was to him, so even if it hurt that they couldn’t be together, she would allow herself to settle for being in his life in this capacity, because that was better than being tossed out of it completely. 

When Brock had called and insisted she came over, she at first thought something was wrong. It was nearing 10pm when he called, a time that if any other boy were to call her up at, most likely meant something else. But she knew Brock, and he whatever this was couldn’t have been a late night hook up call, because as far as she could tell, she was worth more to him than a short “you up?” text. So despite her still feeling wary of her relationship with him, she got in her car and drove the familiar route to his place, trying to conceal the mess that was her beating heart. 

Olive followed Brock up the familiar concrete steps, staying two paces behind him as they went toward the door to the roof access point. It wasn’t the first time they had been alone together since the disastrous cabin trip, where she had finally let herself be with Brock in the way that she had been wanting and writing about, only to have it torn apart before the ink could dry enough to not be smudged on the pages. She hated that she still felt this way about him. What hurt the most was that she had all of these words ready for him, but she never got to give him the most important one, the one that told him that she loved him. 

Love was a funny thing for Olive Burke, it was something that she read about for years, but never something that she longed for until she met Brock. Her past had been full of almosts, people that checked one too few boxes on the endless lists that she created as her standards. But Brock came into her life and simultaneously her heart, not just checking each box but completely blacking it out, only to end in them having to burn the list for the sake of those around them anyways. 

When she got to the roof, she nearly cried at what she saw. Brock had set out blankets and pillows and a bottle of wine, a classic scene for a date that she wished she could actually be on. He had thought of everything, even handing her an old sweatshirt of his to throw on over her thin flannel, his name embossed in white on the back. When she put the sweatshirt on she looked at Brock, a sad smile on both of their faces at the remembrance that this was something that could have been, but wasn’t. 

“There’s a comet tonight, in half an hour. That’s why I called,” Brock said. She hated how uncomfortable he sounded, how unsure he sounded after everything they had been through. That might have been the most painful thing about what had happened that snowy day in January, that she not only lost who she thought would be someone to love, but someone who had become one of her best friends. Part of her wished she had never come here to see him, the sense of it being a mistake that could only hurt her filling her thoughts, and the other part of her was ready to give up on the stupid reasons for them not being together. She took another moment to take in her surroundings as the realization hit her harder than the cool wind blowing on the rooftop. She loved Brock, she had fallen completely head first into love with him and yet he was painfully out of reach. 

She pushed some of the hair that was blowing into her face behind her ears as she looked at him, the first time she had truly been alone with him since the trip to the cabin. They never talked about what happened, instead she had picked up every time he called as she tumbled back into a seemingly good place with him, her words shifting out of heartache and back into those of a girl in love. She hadn’t seen him alone over that time from the cabin trip until now, each time it had been in a group setting and there was always someone acting as a buffer between them. 

“Things have just been weird between us, and I saw this and thought of you and, fuck Ollie, I really missed you.” Brock frowned, his words flawed because he knew that what he was saying didn’t make up for everything that had happened. Him missing Olive didn’t make up for the fact that he was still too much of a coward to just tell his friend that he didn’t care about his dumb rule. Olive bit her lip and looked up at the sky for a moment, before settling her eyes back on the boy in front of her. It hurt being with him, but it had hurt worse not being with him as a friend. She missed when he would bring her here after home games, the two of them always winding down with a few episodes of the show they were currently watching, or her telling him about the latest book she had read, him always listening and taking in the words she wildly spoke because he loved how passionate she was about each one. She missed Brock more than she let herself admit to.

“I missed you too, Brock. She said, pulling down the sleeves of her sweater. Olive reached for the bottle of wine that he had brought up to the roof, reading the label quickly as if that would buy her some time in this moment with Brock. She hated that she felt that same longing for him that she had tried to suppress after the cabin trip. She couldn’t handle the push pull of having him right in her hands and then being ripped away again. Her heart was still cracked from that night in January, and she was so sure that if she let Brock in fully again that it would end up shattered beyond repair on the ground, covered in the dust of her feelings for him. 

The two of them sat on the roof for a while sipping on the wine and looking out at the city and up at the sky. As the line of liquid in the bottle started to drift down, the conversation picked up and started flowing between them in a comfortable way. After the drinking had calmed some of the nerves from being alone with him again, she found herself slipping into the same habits with him as if that kiss hadn’t essentially ruined everything between them. It was nice to be back with him, and she let herself open up to him again, this time the mantra of “we’re just friends” steadily running through her mind. The bottle eventually ran out, and the words that were now flowing freely between them just kept getting deeper. 

“Why did they name you Olive?” Brock asked as the two of them continued in conversation, the night growing later and the breeze picking up around them. He knew they were slipping into dangerous waters, but he didn’t know how to stop it. He wanted to know everything about Olive that she was willing to give him, and as he sat here and listened to her talk about her family in ways she had never talked about them with him before, he found himself writing his own list of words to someday give to Olive, with love sitting comfortably in permanent marker on the first line. 

“I think that they thought if they named me Olive, it would somehow fix the problems in their marriage that they were too blind to fixing before having me. In a way, I was their olive branch, even if it didn’t last.” Brock listened carefully as Olive spoke, revealing something she rarely talked about with people. Olive had never known what love was supposed to look like from a real-life perspective, her parents separating when she was only two years old. All she knew was custody battles, and bitterness, and overnight bags as she was funneled back and forth between two incomplete homes, a future that she never wanted for the family she hoped to one day have. 

“Are you afraid of love?” The words slipped from Brock’s lips before he could stop them, a question that caused Olive to stop breathing for a few seconds, the loose threads of the flannel blanket suddenly offering her a welcomed and needed distraction while she raced through her mind about how to answer that question. The problem wasn’t that she was afraid of love, at least not at a surface level of the word, the problem was that her whole life revolved around it, yet she never truly understood what the feelings behind love meant. She closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the cool air that was blowing through her hair that was down for once, something she subconsciously did before coming up here with Brock in hopes that maybe he would find her pretty enough for his affections.

Olive let her eyes flutter open and she turned her head away from him, breaking eye contact and looking out at the city illuminated softly in the background, curling her hands deeper into the old flannel blanket he brought up with them. Brock watched as she sighed softly, hoping that he didn’t overstep with his irresponsible question. 

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Olive said, voice barely above a whisper. She thought back to the kiss they had shared that day in January, knowing that in that moment love was something that for once wasn’t foreign to her. It was something that she saw and felt as she looked into Brock’s eyes right as he asked if he could kiss her. She loved Brock, and she had known that for a while now, its presence in her heart was heavy but steady. But this wasn’t that afternoon in January, this was a late night in February, and things were different. She didn’t get Brock in the end, even if the love she knew she was feeling for him had lingered past that afternoon in January.  

“Are you afraid right now?” He asked, the question penetrating the surface level of what was normal for a conversation between two people who had been dancing along the ledge of something more than either of them should have been doing. The late night phone calls, the subtle touches when they were together, the lingering, and the flashbacks of a kiss that they both seemed to avoid facing the reality of all added up to the affirmation that feelings were bubbling up to the surface, pushing them together in the very way they both promised their friend that they wouldn’t do. But, Brock wasn’t afraid and he knew how he felt about the girl sitting beside him from as soon as he saw her stumble into the bar with his best friend, crimson red on her lips, commenting on his shitty tasting beer. Olive’s personality was loud, she was so unapologetically herself. Her hair was always a mess, her scratchy handwriting present on sticky notes that he found everywhere in her wake. She was the definition of coffee that she had let get too cold for it to have possibly been any good, but he would still drink that coffee everyday if it meant Olive was there with him, reading beside him with her dark rimmed glasses perched at the end of her nose, hair thrown up messily on her head and he would do anything to feel her lips on his once more. 

“No, Brock. I’m not afraid when I’m with you.” She whispered, looking up at him, her eyes full of sincerity at the moment. It might have seemed too soon for anyone else, but something about Brock made her feel like she could breathe in a way that she never had before. The release of sharing her inner fears with someone who she found herself falling for with each passing day, the moment feeling heavy yet comfortable for her.   

Olive felt herself leaning in, the cool winds hitting her skin as she tried to focus on Brock. Her thigh pressed slightly against his, warmth spreading underneath the blanket that her hands held onto as Brock shifted slightly, lifting his hand to the side of her face. 

Time felt like it was slowing down, the stereotypical kiss that is shown in every rendition of the same romantic comedy, feelings bubbling to the surface as her eyelids fluttered shut and his lips inched closer. All she had to do was close the distance, and let herself fall safely into Brock’s waiting hands. But as she neared the line, Elias’s words echoed in her mind. His comment from that day at the cabin so many months ago, and she knew that no matter how badly her heart wanted Brock, she couldn’t betray her closest friend for the sake of her own heart’s desires.  

“Brock, wait.” She pulled back, pressing her hand softly to his chest. Brock opened his eyes slowly, and he almost wondered if the whole thing had been a dream. He felt his heart sink as her eyes cast downward, a familiar feeling of rejection pooling in his stomach. If he was being honest with himself, he knew what the next words out of her would be, but he wanted to live in the moment just a bit longer. He wanted to kiss Olive again, this time fully ready to confront his feelings even if it meant having to make their friend understand.  

“We shouldn’t.” Olive leaned back, creating a distance between them that felt colder than the air surrounding them. Brock didn’t know what to think other than that he wished for the circumstances to be something different than they were. He knew why they shouldn’t, and even if it was the right decision to stop before anything happened, it made him long for better timing, a parallel universe where perhaps he had met Olive first, not Petey, because if he had then maybe he could experience getting to know her without the cloud of influence that Petey had over their relationship that Brock felt like shouldn’t even matter anymore. 

“Right.” He smiled sadly, grasping onto hope that maybe Olive would be willing to try, despite the common denominator in the complicated equation being the one person that they both relied on. He knew it wouldn’t be right to go behind Petey’s back, especially when the warnings were constantly echoing in his ear, Petey’s predictions that Brock would only end up hurt in the end. As much as he liked Olive, he knew his closest friend was trying to help him guard his heart from being the piece of him that he had given away too easily many times in the past. 

Olive shivered slightly as Brock moved farther away from her, the moment of misjudgment passing quickly as they entered into the next serious topic of this moment that was starting to feel never-ending. She fought with her mind to come up with the right words to say to console her own heart and make Brock feel better, their connection so obvious to the both of them even if they couldn’t act on it. 

“He’s my best friend, Brock, and yours. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened and I came between you.” She gestured between them, guilt from accepting his offer to be on the roof swallowing her whole. She didn’t understand how something that felt so right in the moment, could also feel so wrong. She just kept envisioning Elias, disappointed, and hurt in her mind if he were to find out what they were doing behind his back. His two closest friends essentially betraying his trust.

Brock sat there mulling over her words, his heart in a physical fight with his head about what was worth risking at this point. He loved Petey, but he also knew that Olive was who he wanted. He couldn’t picture himself with anyone else, and she was here with him, on the roof with her legs pressed against his and her heart breaking right in front of him and he just wanted to put it back together for her. 

“Hey, I didn’t give you the word of the day.” Brock turned his head to look at her as she spoke, her tone light, as if she didn’t just take a seam ripper to his heart, carefully plucking the loose threads of her away from his chest. He nodded at her before returning his gaze to the city, the lights from the shiny glass skyscrapers illuminating across the water. 

“Ubiquitous: existing or being everywhere at the same time, constantly encountered,” Olive recounted, voice softening as she continued reciting the definition, a frown slightly developing on her lips. Olive looked at the boy beside her, the same one who had somehow become the person who was with her everywhere. Olive had spent so many years studying love, reading every classic she could get her hands on, analyzing the words written from someone’s deepest crevices of their hearts, and she could probably recite the likes of Pride and Prejudice and Jane Eyre by heart if she had to. But despite reading about the projection of love portrayed in literature for years, the actuality of it felt foreign and non transcribable even as it was sitting next to her looking out at the city. 

“Fuck, Ollie. I can’t pretend. I can’t just pretend I don’t know what it’s like to kiss you and what it feels like when I’m around you,” Brock sighed, taking Olive’s hands in his own as he looked into her eyes, seeing the panic reflected in them. 

“Brock, we can’t,” she tried. Her heart was racing and her head was screaming at her to stop, to not hear Brock out. But her heart was craving the comfort of being nestled with his and she felt like she was grasping onto his hands to prevent herself from falling off of the roof.

“Are you happy, Olive? With this between us? Or do you think about it? Me and you,” he asked. 

Olive bit her lip as she tried to stall, but she knew that she had her answer. 

“I want to be with you, but,” 

“Then fuck, why aren’t we together? Why does what Petey have to say matter? Why does anyone else matter? Fuck, Olive I like you so much. It’s worth the risk,” Brock pleaded. 

Olive pulled her hands from his and moved so that she was in his lap, her legs straddling either side of his. She was scared of everything that would happen as a result of the decision she was about to make, but she knew Brock would be there, holding her hand through it. Brock reacted quickly, sliding his hands up her thighs so that they were resting on her hips. 

“Let’s try,” she whispered with her forehead against his, her voice quiet but sure. Brock moved one hand to the nape of her neck, pulling her down to him and pressing his lips to hers. Her stomach was exploding with butterflies as her lips moved against his, the two of them closer together than they’d ever been. When they kissed in January it was fun, it was exciting and different until Elias had all but rained on their own little parade. But this kiss was something else, and Olive found herself falling even farther into Brock with each second that passed by, the consequences of their actions not mattering to her at all in that moment.  

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

When Olive had suggested an anti-valentines day party, she didn’t think that any of the boys would take her seriously. Most people wanted to be coupled up on Valentine’s Day, spending it with their partner and showering them with attention and gifts. Olive hated Valentine’s Day, she thought it was just a mother excuse to romanticize consumerism and make people who didn’t have a valentine feel shitty about it. So when Jake’s now ex-girlfriend broke up with him two weeks prior, and Petey mentioned him having a hard time with it, she suggested having an anti-Valentine’s Day party where everyone could just get wasted and be single. Jake was thrilled about the idea and offered up his house in Kelowna for the occasion. 

Olive and Brock had been sneaking around for months, but only weeks officially together and as they gathered with all of their friends, they were finding it hard to keep things hidden. Olive stood in the kitchen, Brock mixing them drinks in front of her. When he was finished, he came in close to her ear as he handed her the drink, his lips grazing her jaw softly and quickly as he spoke. 

“You look so fucking pretty, Olive.” She blushed as she took a sip of the concoction he had given her, laughing softly as he pushed him slightly away from her and looked around, hoping that no one caught the seemingly harmless moment between them. But Jake had seen it from across the room where he was sitting with Quinn and Elias, smirking softly at his two friends who clearly had something more going on than they were sharing.

“What’s going on with Brock and Olive?” Jake smirked, nodding toward the pair who were lost in their own little world, Brock and Olive slipping out onto the deck together, both of them blushing and giggling from likely more than the alcohol.  

“Nothing, they’re just friends. Sorry if you’re mad about it,” Petey shrugged, clearly annoyed by Jake and Quinn’s incessant meddling into Brock and Olive. Sure Elias could admit they were flirty, but Olive was just like that, it didn’t mean anything. He decided at that moment to get a new drink, needing some space from his idiotic teammates who clearly were reading into something that he felt wholeheartedly wasn’t there. 

Jake and Quinn shared a look before drifting their eyes out to the deck, where they could see Olive’s arms wrapped around Brock’s waist as they talked with each other. There were smiles on both of their faces that were recognizable as the type of grinning when you’re infatuated with someone and can’t see anyone else. Quinn laughed to himself a bit as he and Jake watched for a moment. 

“That kid is in denial, those two are either in love with each other or they’re just really bad at this whole anti-valentines day thing,” Quinn said, shaking his head slightly thinking about how quickly Elias shut the idea of anything down between them.

“To Brock and Olive, may Petey pull his head out of his ass soon,” Jake joked as he raised his beer toward Quinn’s, the two of them roasting before moving on from the conversation, Olive and Brock still oblivious to the happenings inside and they stood in their own little world where the population was just them. 

An hour later, Olive stood outside on Jake’s deck by herself, drink placed in her right hand, and a sad smile on her lips. She was looking out at the water, the calm, still dark blue water slightly illuminated by the moon and stars that shined much brighter than they ever did in Vancouver. Her mind was reeling with regret. Regret for suggesting this party, regret for going along with the whole theme, and most of all regret forever coming to that stupid dive bar night with Petey in the first place. She swirled the half-empty red cup of beer in her hand as she sighed. She was tired of the entire thing, the party, the dumb anti-valentines day jokes she had been cracking all night in an effort to bring at least a laugh to Jake after his horrible breakup, and most of all she was tired of pretending that she wasn’t hopelessly in love with the damn blonde boy standing just inside with his dumb smile, his dumb laugh, and his dumb pink shirt with a broken heart on the chest that coincidentally was pulled right from her own sleeve. 

The night had started off so well, the bitter liquid in her cup giving her more courage to be openly affectionate with Brock as the night progressed. She thought back to an hour before, where they were standing here in almost the same spot, his hand firmly against her waist as she swore he was going to kiss her again, taking the risk and finally just being with each other, no matter what their friends thought. But he didn’t kiss her, and instead, she was met with not only a heartache that felt familiar to that night in January when Brock had let her go so easily but another type of heartache as she realized that it was Elias, one of her closest friends, who was encouraging Brock to move on with someone else. 

Olive heard the slider door open behind her, Brock’s footsteps almost too recognizable for her even though she didn’t turn around, another thing she was growing tired of. The truth was that ever since she knew what kissing him felt like, her mind couldn’t think of anything else. She had already locked away the hurt that she felt that day he dropped her hand at Elias’s comment. And maybe it wasn’t entirely fair to blame the whole problem on Elias, but it sure felt like her heart was stuck in limbo with Brock’s, waiting for the approval of someone that shouldn’t have ever made them have to choose in the first place. 

“Ollie-“ Brock started, his voice was soft and slow as the familiar nickname rolled off his lips. Olive had never been one for liking nicknames, she actually loved her name, but each time it came from Brock she found her stomach flipping and heart beating in her throat over the abridged version of Olive.

“I’m fine, Brock.” She said, still facing the water unable to turn to see him. She didn’t want to look at him, not because of any of his own actions but because it was all too much. Having him behind her, having just a taste of him and then dropping the entire plate on the floor where it sat longer than any five-second rule would allow, and the fact that he was right there on this stupid holiday that she was pretending not to care about was simply overwhelming her and making her heart bend past its breaking point.

“No you’re not, and neither am I.” He said as his voice was cracking with each word.

Olive turned around slowly and took another sip of the now slightly warm beer in her cup as she waited for Brock to say whatever he had come out there to say. She didn’t want to hear it because of how badly she was currently hurting, the jealousy that she had no real reason to even be feeling was creeping in quickly and the longer he stood there looking at her, the more she wanted to snap. 

“Will you please just talk to me, Ollie?” Brock tried once more as he took a step closer to the girl he was so crazy about. The girl that would stay up until 2 am sometimes reading, the girl who’s hair was always a mess and couldn’t see very far without her glasses, the girl who was by all means too smart for him, each day sending him words that he didn’t understand. Words that she knew that made her think of him, words that he found himself missing each day that passed without one, the last one being from that day in January. 

“I heard you, talking about that girl Elias wanted to set you up with. And it sucks, okay? It sucks that I feel this way, it sucks that I have to sit here and be with you in secret while our best friend brings some girl for you, God, Brock, how am I supposed to feel about it?” Brock’s heart absolutely crashed in his chest hearing Olive breakdown like that, her voice growing quieter and quieter as she continued, a trait that was so unlike Olive that it brought him down even further knowing he was the one involuntarily causing pain. Brock reached out to her, pulling her closer to his chest and for once he didn’t care who could have been watching them through the glass door. 

“Olive it’s you. It’s been you. I told him I wasn’t interested, and I almost told him about us, but then I just froze and all I could hear was him saying that at the cabin, and I didn’t know what to do. I want to be with you, but,” Brock couldn’t continue, because if he did he would have to admit out loud that he had made a choice. A choice that left the girl in front of him, the one he cared about more than he thought he could ever care about someone, hurt. A choice that would all but tell her that his priorities were with his friend, no matter how badly it hurt. 

“Why can’t we just tell him?” Olive sniffled into Brock’s chest, the haziness of the alcohol finally hitting her as she shivered slightly from the wind. Brock rubbed her back sadly and rested his chin on the top of her head. He hated that he knew Petey so well. He knew how stubborn he was, he knew how much he cared, but no matter how many times Brock almost broke down, he just couldn’t shake Petey’s words about how dating your friends is a disaster, and how it would ruin the entire dynamic of the friendship, from his head. 

Olive pulled back from Brock when he didn’t answer, the warmth she once felt from his comfort now turning cold as she connected what he couldn’t bring himself to say back to her question. She chugged what was left of her beer, raising it in a toast more to herself than him as the alcohol she wanted to rid her of her sadness hit her even harder. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Brock.” She said, turning from him and about to step inside, leaving him out in the cold and alone. She froze with her hand on the door handle, turning around to face him one last time before leaving the party that night. 

“Shattered: broken into many pieces,” She smiled sadly as she walked back inside, not bothering to see his reaction as she left, a scene that so closely resembled her entire outlook on life lately, words of affirmation scribbled on lists becoming nothing but seemingly every word in the English language to describe heartache as the replacement. At least now he would finally know how she felt. 

She wandered a bit closer to the water, taking a seat on the grass as she looked out at the darkness. She knew she would have to go back to the house eventually, with that being her place to crash for the night, and she also knew that Brock hadn’t done anything wrong. But she was tired, the new and exciting part of being together wearing off with the crash into the reality of what it actually all meant. 

Olive shifted slightly as she felt someone sit down next to her, surprise evident on her face as Jake sat down and handed her a bottle of water. He looked at her knowingly, a sad smile on his face that she could tell wasn’t from his own recently broken heart. 

“Olive, what’s really going on with you and Brock?” Jake tried, his voice soft and tentative as she sighed in response. Olive felt herself tearing up, unsure if the alcohol was what was causing her to react this way or just the feelings that had been building up so long under an umbrella of lies.

“He’s my boyfriend, and Elias doesn’t know,” She said, tears brimming her eyes at how shitty she felt admitting that outloud to someone. Olive didn’t know how she let it get this far. She loved Brock, and while she wasn't ready to admit that entirely to him, she had enjoyed being with him. But you can only lie for so long before it all rips apart, and the guilt of lying to her best friend was starting to eat her alive. 

“Do you love him?” Jake asked, his question blunt and to the point. Olive nodded softly, tears spilling down her cheeks. Jake wrapped an arm around his friend, letting her cry on his shoulder. 

“Petey adores you, I know he’s a stubborn little shit but, we all know you and Brock are happy. It’s so obvious, he’s in denial, sure, but I think he’ll come around,” Jake reassured her softly. Olive continued to cry for a few moments, wiping her eyes softly when Brock came around the corner, taking in the scene. 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Jake asked. Olive nodded and patted his knee in response, wiping her eyes once more as Jake got up and Brock took his place. She waited to say anything until Jake was almost back up to the porch, out of earshot from them.

“I’m really sorry, Olive. I should have done more to stop him. I hate seeing you upset, especially if I had any part in making it that way.” Brock frowned, grabbing her hand and lacing their fingers together softly. Olive sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder, looking out once more at the water before answering him. 

“It’s not your fault, Brock. We got ourselves into this mess by not telling him.” She sighed. 

“So are we okay?” Brock asked, his voice quiet and tentative. Olive leaned up and kissed him softly, nodding wordlessly before leaning her head back onto his shoulder. They needed to tell Elias, but she also needed a little while longer to process everything and decide just how to do it without upsetting her best friend. 

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

Brock had always been dismissive about love, never questioning that he was young and lived a life that most other people wouldn’t want or be able to understand and grow accustomed to. He didn’t spend his time daydreaming about the future, and marriage, and kids, he had everything he needed and knew that his time would come when it was meant to. But as he sat there in late April with his black tie around his neck and his white shirt slightly wrinkled from being unable to work an iron, he watched as one of his closest friends stood at the altar. The white flowers surrounding the archway in the gazebo and the simple symphony of the wedding march was playing, but his only thoughts were of the girl who was most likely sitting in her apartment, glassed perched on the top of her nose, probably reading something far too complicated for him to understand and he wondered why he hadn’t just taken the leap of faith to invite her here to sit beside him. 

“I think Bo is going to cry,” the voice beside him spoke softly, a fond yet teasing tone to it, and Brock suddenly was lifted out of his own thoughts and painfully reminded why he couldn’t be here with Olive. Because of his best friend sitting next to him, who had practically begged Brock not to develop any feelings for the girl that he was so helplessly already falling for, a secret that had been destroying him to keep. 

He laughed softly at his friend, not bothering to give a verbal response because he was almost terrified of any words that were to come out of his mouth when his mind was so concentrated on what Olive would look like walking down the aisle to him, a thought that had his hands shaking and his heart shattering because he knew it would never happen. He knew if he wasn’t careful, he’d let it slip to Petey just how in love he was falling with Olive, Petey’s way too smart and way too beautiful for himself best friend. 

Brock checked his watch repeatedly as he watched Bo and Holly make the rounds to thank everyone for being there, knowing that as soon as they got to him he could get out of there as quickly as possible. He was feeling trapped, his airways blocked and his feelings growing steadily and he needed to leave the environment where people were celebrating the very thing he had come to the realization that he wanted. His phone vibrated in his pocket, startling him a bit. He reached his hand down, pulling out the device and seeing the name of the girl he had been dancing around all night. 

Ollie :) 

Serendipity: the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for. 

He didn’t have time to overanalyze what that meant, Olive’s word of the day that she had sent him this time doing nothing to calm him down, because he saw the three little dots moving, an indication that she wasn’t done unknowingly strengthening the unbreakable grasp she had on his heart. 

This one reminds me of you and me :)

He stood there, looking at the grey text on his phone and slowly lifted the champagne to his lips, knowing that he needed at least three more of these to get through the rest of the night after reading Olive’s words. It was painful in a way that he didn’t understand, how someone could be just within an arm’s reach, who he knew felt the same way about him, and yet they couldn’t act on it. He didn’t get to hold her hand, or kiss her whenever he wanted, and that not so gentle reminder had him reaching for flute after flute of the golden liquid, hoping to forget.  

Brock paced back and forth as he wandered into his bedroom, both of his dogs’ feet padding across the carpet behind him. He took off his suit jacket and undid his tie, tossing them too carelessly onto his closet floor considering how nice they were. His mind was racing ever since he left Bo and Holly’s wedding, his heart doing flips in his chest as he tried to push Olive from his mind, not so gently reminding himself just why he couldn’t have her. 

The last two years of Brock’s life he had been so focussed on his future, his career, pushing any thoughts of a meaningful relationship so far back that he tricked himself into thinking he didn’t want anything. When he met Olive, all of his apprehensions about the idea of love were tossed carelessly out the window as his heart started driving down the highway toward her. But the problem was, every time he got to the border between himself and Olive, it was like his passport was no longer valid and entry into what would have been something beautiful was denied. 

The worst part about it was that he was now wondering if the border would always be closed. No matter how mutual the feelings between him and Olive were, Petey was always there in the back of their minds, and it was hard for him not to wonder just how long things could realistically last between them as long as it was in secret. 

He dropped himself into his bed, patting softly at the dark comforter to signal the dogs to come up. He ran a hand softly through his hair, champaign still causing a light fog to clutter his mind, nothing else clear to him aside from how he felt about Olive. He thought back to earlier in the evening, watching Bo and Holly get married and his mind drifted to her, something that should have scared him but didn’t. 

If Brock were to be honest with himself, he knew that he and Olive could have something great, something that had the potential to end in life together. But this wasn’t a movie, it wasn’t a whirlwind of love that he could let himself get into, even though unbeknownst to him, he and Olive were both slowly drifting there anyways. Before any sober thought could stop him, he reached toward his bedside table and grabbed his phone, pulling up Olive without giving himself time to second guess if it was a good idea or not.   

“One too many drinks there, huh, Brockadoodle?” Olive smiled into her phone, turning it on speaker and setting it gently on her bedside table as she crawled into bed. She knew things were going too far, she was getting too close to Brock, and for the first time in a long while, she didn’t know how to stop it. The feelings had already crossed the moat surrounding her heart, and they were standing there with axes picking apart the walls that acted as the last barrier between letting Brock have her completely, where everyone could see it. 

Brock felt himself calm down at the sound of Olive’s voice, soft through the phone. He let the next few words tumble out without fear of their repercussions. He had been thinking about her all night, so much so that if he didn’t get it off of his chest, the cavities of his heart might completely collapse. 

“I wanted to bring you tonight.” Brock started, words softer than his tone from before, a hint of emotion underneath them that Olive knew too well. “Brock..” she tried, unsure of how to console him when she had been thinking about being on his arm all night. Olive couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t hurt; she wasn’t there with him, feelings that she had no right feeling about someone who couldn't have taken her as his date anyways. She was starting to grow concerned for her well-being, wondering how far she and Brock could tiptoe around these feelings that seemed to get more and more complicated as the months passed. It should have been simple, they should have been able to be together, but sometimes what a person wants doesn’t line up with reality. 

“No, let me finish, please.” He sighed. Olive couldn’t see what he was doing, she could only hear the desperation in his voice. Brock laid in his bed, his dogs lovingly at his feet, and he should have been content. But the side of the bed next to him was nagging him, an emptiness that never bothered him before Olive. He ran a hand over his face, eyes slightly blurring from the overload of far too expensive champagne that he drank at the wedding, hoping to replace the empty feeling of her hand not in his with the glass instead. 

“I wanted you there, I wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked in your dress, and hold your hand during the ceremony. I wanted to have you there next to me, and I don’t know if it’s the dramatics of being at a wedding getting to my head, or if any of this even makes sense, but I just was watching Bo and Holly have their first dance and all I could think about was you.” Brock knew he was too much, the feelings he had been trying to keep at bay from someone who he was supposed to just be friends with, no matter how wrong it felt bubbling up like the champagne that he drank just hours before. 

Olive felt herself stop at his words, her labored breath filling the space as she waited for him to continue. She grabbed her phone, pulling it off the speaker as if the ghosts in her bedroom were listening anyways. 

“I want to kiss you no matter who sees us so badly, Olive. I think about it all the time.” 

Olive took her time, attempting to process the words that had just stumbled from his mouth. She focused on the tenor of his voice, the voice that she loved to listen to talk about anything and everything and here it was, whispering words through an over priced cell phone that was pressed tightly to her ear as she held it in her hands. She couldn’t breathe, the weight of what he had just said stunning her so badly that all she could do was breathe softly, willing herself to answer him. She never had time to think about the consequences of what they were doing, instead focussing on the good things about being together even if it was in secret. As Brock drunkenly told her these things, her heart filled with guilt over it all, wondering how they could feasibly continue this for much longer, no matter how much that realization cut her. 

“Olive?” Brock whispered, wondering if he had gone too far. Olive hates the uncertainty in his voice but she hated even more that her silence was the cause of it.

“I’m here, Brock,” was all she could manage in that moment. She heard him softly sigh in the background then some shuffling on the other end. 

“Do you feel it too? Or am I alone here?” 

“I feel it too, Brock. You know I do.” 

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

“I don’t understand why you didn’t want to bring a date, you were the only one there without one” Petey shrugged toward Brock, referring to the Bo and Holly’s wedding that had occurred just days prior. 

Brock was practically fuming at his friend whom he loved dearly but could be so completely dense. He didn’t think Elias was stupid, but how could he really be asking Brock that question when he had to have known how badly Brock wanted to bring Olive the wedding. He was trying to calm himself down, to not let his feelings get the best of him, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how simple this all could be if Petey could just get over his damn stubbornness about Olive and Brock dating.

“Well, I probably would have had a date if you hadn’t have insisted I stay socially distanced with Ollie at all fucking times,” he snapped at his friend. He didn’t look at Petey’s reaction as he walked into the kitchen to catch his breath, replacing his empty beer bottle with a fresh one from the fridge, opening it quickly and drinking a large portion of it. 

Elias sat there with a look of apprehension and annoyance on his face, still not understanding why his requests were making him out to be the bad guy. Brock and Olive were friends, the group dynamic was great, why did it have to be more when it was fine already? 

“You guys are just friends,” Petey waived him off and Brock swore he felt his eye twitching with how irritated he was growing. 

“We’re not just fucking friends, we were practically together until you came in with your ‘I’m so glad you’re not dating’ bullshit and we stopped,” he spat out. Brock was tired of the secrets, he was tired of keeping his feelings for Olive to himself, and he was tired of Petey dictating his love life when he should just be happy for him. 

Petey’s mouth hung open slightly in shock at Brock’s outburst. The words hung over him as he went through what Brock could be talking about, anger bubbling up in him at the idea of Brock and Olive, his two closest friends, hooking up behind his back.

“Did you sleep with Olive?” His eyes narrowed at Brock. 

“No, but we kissed. And, fuck Petey I really like her, and she really likes me. I don’t understand why you’re so weird about it and why you can’t just be happy for us. I’d be happy for you,” Brock groaned, leaning slightly on the counter as he finished his beer, shaking his head slightly. In a weird way it felt good to get some of it out, even if most of what he was saying was a lie. They didn’t just kiss, they had been together for months at this point and here he was lying to his best friend about it, hoping that maybe if he expressed his frustrations enough that Petey would come around and they could just be together in front of him. 

“Well why does it have to be Olive?” Petey asked. Brock couldn’t believe his friend, and he was one minute from asking him to leave because he was making him so frustrated at the situation. In Brock’s mind this was simple, but Petey had this way of making things so complicated simply because he didn’t want things to be awkward between everyone. 

“I don’t know, Petey. I can’t help how I feel. I wish you’d just come around because this sucks for both of us. I’m unhappy, she’s unhappy. I want to be with her man, she’s everything I could ever want. You know who I call after every game? Olive. You know who knows everything about my family? Olive. She’s even met them, she met my dad, Petey and he fucking loved her! He still asks about her. I don’t even care about other girls, I haven’t since I met her. I just want her.”

“So you’re in love with her then?” Petey inquired, deciding to ignore everything else that Brock had just said. Brock paused, new beer in his hand as he had almost a stare down with his friend. He took a moment to go through his options, knowing that as soon as Petey said that he knew it was true. He did love Olive, and he might not have realized it but as soon as the words left Petey’s mouth he knew. He knew that everything had been building with Olive, she had written her way into his heart and he was a willing participant, accepting her words and rewriting them with his own pen. Brock may not have been an avid reader, but Olive was the best book he’d ever read. 

“Yeah, Petey, I do.” He admitted, voice softening, and heart breaking slightly because he wasn’t sure if that would even make a difference at this point. 

“Oh.” Was all that Petey replied, his eyes cast down and guilt pooling in his stomach. 

Petey thought about what Brock had said for days, he couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that he was the reason for their unhappiness. He also felt a bit dense for not seeing the signs that they had something developing between them. He spent the next few days avoiding Brock as much as he could. He showed up to practice after he knew Brock would be on the ice, and he stayed until he knew Brock had left, with Brock making no effort to talk to him either. It wasn’t just Brock he avoided though, as he carefully dodged all of Olive’s texts and phone calls, to the point where each time his phone rang he flinched, wondering if it would be one of them. 

Brock knew Elias was ignoring him, but he honestly didn’t care anymore. He didn’t tell Olive about the argument he had with Petey, instead he focussed on being a support system for her as she worked through studying for her finals. He was almost thankful for her being busy, it was giving him time to think and hopefully work through everything with Petey so that by the time she was done, they could finally be together and have Petey okay with it all. 

Brock picked up the small notebook, the leather slightly worn under his fingers and the binding not perfect from being handmade. He remembered when Olive gave this to him. He remembered everything about her that day, how she insisted he wait to open it until she left with a soft blush on her cheeks, how she looked at his nephew with a look in her eyes that made him practically want to marry her right there, and how his dad adored her even after meeting her for not even five minutes. He remembers opening the book and nearly crying at her words, every word that she had given him before. It was something that was so simple yet said so much at the time that he wasn’t able to read until now. He was in love with Olive, and he was ready to tell her that and stop hiding it. 

As Brock was flipping through the worn pages, some of them with tea stains, some with scribbled out words, a small folded up piece of paper fell to the ground. He knew that he missed it the first time he looked through this book, and he slowly reached down to grab it from the floor. He held the piece of scratch paper up, reading each word and definition carefully, part of him feeling guilty for reading something that seemed personal, even if it had his own name on it. He smiled at each word, fondly appreciating Olive’s anecdotal word of the day that she would give him without fail, everyday. His eyes were caught on the last word, sending him into a headspace that hadn’t felt this clear in a long time.

Enamored: in love. 

He read and re-read that word over and over again, his heart pounding thinking about her saying this to him. Suddenly all of the words over the last few months became clear to him, the realization of each one being her way at telling him that she loved him, without having to actually say it. It all made sense now, and Brock didn’t care about Petey’s words anymore, he didn’t care that Olive might hurt him, because he knew that it wasn’t true. Olive wasn’t incapable of giving her heart to someone, she had already given it to him in the way that she knew best, through words. He didn’t care what anyone else thought anymore, he was going to be with Olive fully, no matter what Petey had to say about it. 

Across town, Olive set her glass carefully on the coffee table as she heard someone knocking on her front door. Elias was sitting still on the couch, only lifting his head up slightly when he heard the knock. Olive just shrugged her shoulders and walked over to her front door, peeking through the peephole only to be met with confusion by what she saw. 

“Who is it?” Elias inquired, his hand still scrolling through his phone absentmindedly. 

Olive didn’t answer her friend, instead, she opened the door to reveal a floral delivery man who had a cart full of what she assumed was more flowers than any regular person needed. Olive stared at the man for a moment, thoughts racing through her mind as she tried to come up with an excuse about the flowers that she could already guess were from Brock. Her stomach bubbled with anxiety as she carefully signed her name on the packing slip, stepping aside to let the man carry not one, but twelve bouquets into her kitchen. 

Elias looked up in confusion, setting his phone down on the coffee table and wandering up to the counter toward a bouquet that had a card. Olive panicked, it was like time was moving at a glacial pace, and she was stuck in the pathway between the delivery man and Elias, knowing that her friend was going to get to the card that was likely from his best friend first. 

“Do you have a boyfriend you haven’t told me about?” Elias teased, grabbing the card in his hands and opening it. Part of him was hoping the answer would be yes, and that it would be someone other than Brock but the other part of him was starting to realize he could no longer live in a perpetual state of denial when it came to his two friends. It normally wouldn’t have been weird, and Olive wouldn’t have minded that her friend saw what was on that card if the circumstances were any different. She felt helpless as she saw Elias’s smirk turn into a frown as he read whatever was written, and all hopes of the flowers somehow not being from the boy she had grown so fond of dissipated with his frown. 

Olive watched Elias carefully as he set the card down, his lips slightly pursed while he looked at her. She felt her chest caving in, preparing herself for him to be furious with her. She and Brock had completely crossed the line of exactly what her best friend standing in front of her had asked her not to, and seeing the way he frowned at the card broke her in a way she didn’t think was possible.

Olive never wanted to hurt Elias, and her intentions that night so many months ago at the bar were to never get involved with Brock. But as she had come to realize, intentions don’t matter when the outcome hurts someone and seeing Elias’s somber expression had her mind reeling with regret. 

Elias just shook his head, walking slowly back to the couch where he sat back down, the silence in the room was noticeable, and Olive found herself realizing just how badly she had messed things up. Olive glanced at the flowers, sighing softly at the card that was resting on the counter, Brock’s handwriting visible from where she was standing. 

“You should read it,” she heard from behind her. Elias’s voice was soft and sincere, an emotion present that she wasn’t able to read. She looked from the card back to her friend, willing herself to read what Brock had written for her.

I’m enamored with you, Ollie.

B. 

Olive felt her eyes well up with tears at his words, running her fingers softly over the ink on the card before setting it back down on the counter. 

“Elias…” she tried, unable to stop her voice from shaking.

“How long have you and Brock been together?” He asked, his voice soft but steady, almost no emotion behind it, which somehow made everything feel worse. Elias was never cold toward her, in all the years they had known each other, nothing had ever come between them. But now, with everything that her heart was feeling toward his best friend, she felt like she was sitting in a room screaming, with the house on fire around her as she watched each relationship burst into flames around her. 

“Since February” was all she managed to say, her body frozen in place as she studied his face for any sort of reaction that she could read. There was no point in lying to him anymore, it was time to face the reality of the situation and confess to Elias what was going on. He cared about Brock and Olive, and she could only hope that by seeing how happy they were together that he would be happy for them. 

“So you both have just been lying to everyone this whole time.” There it was, the coldness in his voice that she was dreading, her eyes immediately looking away from his. She knew he was mad, and to be honest, he had every right to be because even if she and Brock weren’t together, they were very clearly and undeniably something more than friends, a confirmation that she could no longer hide from or deny. 

“It’s not like that, it's just, I don’t know Elias. I didn’t mean for it to happen, and then it did and you were just so against it. We were going to tell you, when we kissed in January and then you just made that comment and we decided to stop. But, I don’t know Elias.” Olive sighed, looking over at her friend with tears in her eyes, desperately trying to convey to him what she was feeling even though the words themselves weren’t coming out. She had never seen him look so disappointed toward her, something that she hated she was the cause of. 

“You love him,” Elias nodded and Olive froze. She knew she loved Brock, and seeing his note meant that he loved her back, something that she had spent years longing to find but convincing herself that she didn’t need. Brock had come into her life and completely checked off every cliche list of things as he swept her off of her feet, crashing her heart into his in a way that had for so long been this secret that they couldn’t admit to each other or anyone else. All she could do in that moment was look at Elias with a glint in her eye and an open heart and nod, confirming his observations that she did indeed, love his charming, goofy, wonderful best friend, Brock Boeser. 

Elias watched his best friend from across the room, mixed emotions in his heart, and various thoughts racing through his mind. He wanted Olive and Brock to be happy, he loved both of them, but he couldn’t shake the sense of hurt he felt knowing it had all been behind his back. He also knew that his own warnings had been what was keeping them from being together, and as he looked at Olive with her heart on her sleeve, he felt the guilt rising at being the one responsible for preventing her own happiness. 

“I’m sorry,” Elias shook his head, trying to find the words to say to his friend that would make up for this mess, the mess that he was ultimately the cause of for his own selfish reasoning. Elias paused for a moment, looking over at Olive before sighing softly.

“I’m glad he didn’t listen to me, though. I know I fucked it up, but I’m happy that you both are happy,” He said. Olive tilted her head slightly at him, a curious expression on her face at his words.

“What do you mean?” She replied. 

“I told him you’d crush him.” Elias said. It was so quiet that Olive almost didn’t think she heard him correctly. She didn’t think she concretely understood the words that just came from his lips, because the Elias she knew would never say those things about someone that he cared about and when it hit her that he didn’t want them to be together so badly that he would say something like that to Brock, she felt the anger rise in her stomach. 

“God, Elias. You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to say those things about me,” Olive said. She stood up from the couch and began to pace back and forth between her couch and the kitchen. Her mind was reeling, and all she wanted to do was kick Elias out and not speak to him ever again. Olive felt like a fool for not seeing that this was how her best friend truly thought of her, as someone who was only capable of causing heartache to others. 

“You think I’m not capable of love, that I’m just some bookworm living in her own head about the idea of love. Maybe that was true back then, but at least I tried. I let Brock into my heart in the only ways I knew how, falling in love with him yet stopping myself because of you. I spent all this time not wanting to come between you and it turns out you sold me out to him as someone he should never love, because people who have a harder time I guess aren’t capable of it at all, right?” 

“Olive, I didn’t-“ Olive cut him off harshly.

“It doesn’t matter, you still said it. You’re my best friend, Elias, but I’m clearly not yours.” The tears were steadily flowing down her cheeks and her head was starting to pound from everything that was happening. She hated that it was blowing up in this way. She hated that her heart was breaking from potentially losing one of the best friends she ever had, but she mostly hated that he ultimately was right in his assumptions, because she didn’t see how her and Brock could continue to be together now that the truth was out. 

Elias knew he fucked up. He knew his mistakes had cost two of the people he cared most about heartache, and while he didn’t know that Brock had said that to Olive until she threw it in his face, he knew that there was no way his friend didn’t mean it. Brock was absolutely in love with Olive, the kind of love that you think only exists written on pages for others to live through vicariously, and he knew for all the months he had been keeping them apart for his own selfish reasons, he needed to fix it.

“Do you want to tell me about him?” Elias smiled, trying his best to show her that he was sorry and that he regretted what he had done. Elias was never good with words, he overthought everything that ran through his head and it more often than not ended with feelings unsaid. He didn’t want to hurt Brock or Olive, and he let his mind swindle him into thinking that if they were together it would somehow ruin the dynamic of their friend group. He knew it was selfish, and it was long overdue that Elias did something selfless instead. 

Olive looked over at her friend, shocked a bit by his change in demeanor. She bit her lip softly, unsure of how to react to his question because she did want to talk about Brock. She had been wanting to tell Elias for months just how happy his best friend made her feel, how she had never thought anyone would understand her in the ways that he had so easily. 

“Elias, that’s not going to fix it.” She whispered. 

“I want to hear about it, I want you to be happy Olive,” Elias said, softly nodding towards the space next to him on the couch. As Olive was about to start telling Elias everything, the familiar sound of her FaceTime ringtone started going off. She glanced toward her phone that was sitting in front of Elias on the coffee table, seeing Brock’s name and photo lighting up the screen. She shook her head slightly at Brock’s timing but then furrowed her brow at Elias’s soft reaction to seeing the name on the screen. 

Elias picked up the phone, handing it over to Olive as she stared at it ringing in her hands, letting the call lapse. She unlocked her phone and carefully texted the boy in question, letting him know she would call him back in a while before setting the device screen down onto the table. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” She said, putting her head in her hands. 

“Well, how did it start?” Elias tried, a genuine soft smile on his face as he encouraged Olive to start speaking. Olive recounted everything to Elias, feeling the weight of secrecy lifting from her chest. It felt good to share these things with him, to tell him the little things over the past few months that she had wanted to share with him about Brock. 

“I do love him, Elias, and I’m sorry that things happened this way and I’m sorry we didn’t tell you but, I don’t want to hide it anymore. It’s not fair.” Olive cried, her voice shaking slightly from the emotions that she was feeling. That was her first time admitting those feelings about Brock out loud and she hated that these were the circumstances that brought them on. 

“You should go tell him, Ollie.” Petey smiled, getting up and grabbing his coat so that she could leave. Olive watched carefully as he wandered toward the door,

“You spent so long keeping this from me, trying to keep me comfortable when you shouldn’t have needed to. You’re my best friend and I’m sorry. But, you should go to him, tell him how you feel. He’s more important than us right now,” Elias said as he opened her front door and stepped out. 

It took Olive all but five minutes to throw on her shoes and grab her keys. Her hair was a mess, her head hurt from crying and she felt like a wreck, but none of it mattered. None of it phased her as she climbed into her car and thought about how she was going to tell Brock that she loved him for the first time, and that they didn’t have to hide things anymore. 

Brock opened the door and Olive stood there in front of him. Her eyes brimmed with tears that he could see through the rims of her glasses, strands of her hair were falling out of the messy ponytail that sat at the nape of her neck. He looked down to her hands, seeing the card sitting in her fingers, the chipped nail polish a sign that she had been upset. 

“Olive,” he started, and she cut him off, waving the card up to eye level as she spoke.

“Did you mean this?” She asked, her voice cracking and fresh tears falling down her cheeks. She bit her lip as she waited for a response, her own emotions overflowing with each second that ticked by. Olive was by all accounts no stranger to the idea of love, but rather she was constantly a bystander in the stories that depicted the tragedies and greatness of it all. But here she was, standing in front of the first boy she ever truly loved, hoping that for once she wouldn’t be a bystander. 

“Of course I did,” Brock said, reaching out to grab her hands softly as he led her inside and closed the door. The dogs ran to Olive’s side, another reminder of one of the many things he loved about her coming into view as she knelt down and greeted them, the first smile he had seen from her since she knocked at his door. 

“Then why didn’t you say it instead of sending it in a card?” She asked.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot.” Olive scoffed at his sentence and Brock panicked, realizing he picked the wrong choice of words to convey how he felt. 

“Olive, I’ve been in love with you for months, since New Year’s Eve when you spilled a bottle of champagne all over your dress. I almost told you after Bo’s wedding when I called you in the middle of the night and told you I wanted to kiss you like a drunk idiot. You’re my favorite person, and nothing involving stupid petey and his stupid fucking rule changes that. I don’t care about petey I don’t care if he’s mad, I just want you, Olive, if you’ll have me” Brock was laying it out as clearly as his could, the words rushing from his mouth as he desperately reached out trying to hang onto the hope that what he and Olive had wasn’t lost because of his mistake. 

Olive walked to Brock slowly, tears still rolling down her cheeks at the overwhelming emotions she was walking through. Each step she took felt like another word scribbled down in her notebook, another checkbox filled about the boy that consumed almost all of her thoughts. He was everywhere around her, in her heart and mind, in her readings and coursework, and in that little blue notebook that used to be about her life but was now filled with words, each one a synonym for how much she loved Brock. 

Olive reached her hands up to Brock’s cheeks, his slightly grown out beard course against her hands in the best way as she pulled his head down to hers, crashing her lips to his for the first time since January. It was different this time, this kiss was harsher, deeper, and this time she knew that when she let him go he wouldn’t actually be going anywhere, they could be happy. 

Brock reacted instantly to the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist and pushing her back to the wall. When they pulled apart they both were breathless, Olive’s lips tinted a slightly darker shade as she put one hand on his chest, feeling the best of his heart. 

“I love you, Olive. That’s yours.” He looked down to his chest then back at her, wiping some of her tears away as he held her tightly. 

“I feel like we’ve wasted so much time,” Olive sniffled, wiping her eyes but smiling. Brock was hers, and it felt like she had been waiting a lifetime for him. To have him right there but just out of reach for months had more than taken its toll, but the weight that was slowly evaporating from her shoulders was freeing. She had Brock, she hadn’t lost her best friend, and she felt like she was no longer floating around waiting for the idea of love to catch her. It had, and it was standing in front of her, hands on her hips, his heart beating under her own hands. 

“But we’re here now.” Brock smiled, leaning down to kiss her once more. He couldn’t believe this was happening and that he could be with Olive wholly. He didn’t even know if Petey knew she was here but he didn’t care. He was tired of letting a stupid rule dictate their happiness, and Petey would just have to get over it if he was mad still because he had no intentions of letting Olive slip through his fingers again. 

“I have one last word for you, or phrase really,” Olive said as she tugged softly on Brock’s hair with one hand, the other still firmly pressed over his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her fingertips. He nodded at her, smiling fondly while he waited for her to continue.

“Unapologetically in love, which I think needs no definition,” she grinned, watching as Brock smiled once more, this time against her lips as he kissed her again. His hands planted firmly on her hips, sliding his fingertips just underneath her sweater to feel her soft skin as the kiss deepened, something that was long overdue for the both of them. His hands slid up further, fingertips dancing along the skin just underneath her bra. 

“Brock,” Olive whined against his lips, shifting her body even closer to his.

“Yeah?” He murmured, his head dipping to her neck, pressing soft, but open kisses there, his breath hot on her throat.

“Bed,” she demanded, not having to tell Brock twice as he pulled his hands from her sweater, lacing his fingers through hers to lead her back into his bedroom. 

Everything slowed down as Olive started pulling off her sweater, with Brock kissing her firmly as his hands reached down to the top of her leggings, fingertips on fire at the touch of her skin. She tugged on the hem of his shirt, breaking apart to pull it over his head and then leaning back down onto the bed. Brock hovered above her as they kissed again.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Olive,” He whispered as he looked at her. They had been together before, but seeing her in his bed, in front of him, and being able to tell her that he loved her made everything feel different and  he was ready to savour every second of it. He peppered kisses all down her neck and chest as his hands wandered down her body, slowly sliding the leggings off as she picked up her hips. 

Sex with Brock had always been good, but something about the way it felt with his hands on her this time, and they way he knew every dip and inch of her body, knowing that he loved her made it that much better. Olive had never been one to put that much weight into sex, it was something that she enjoyed but never let herself get attached to the person she was with. This felt different, his was the person that she was completely in love with, and everything felt like it had fallen into place as she wrapped her legs around him while he moved. She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him as she felt herself getting close underneath him. 

Brock slipped out of her as they both finished, slightly out of breath as he threw on sweats while he walked to the bathroom, returning with a warm towel and one of his shirts for Olive to wear as he helped her clean up. He kissed her forehead softly as he handed her the shirt, climbing back into bed as she put it on and retreated into the bathroom, returning a few moments later with a lazy but beautiful smile on her face. 

Olive crawled into bed and rested her hand softly on Brock’s bare chest, her head falling so that it was leaning against his shoulder, the words from minutes before hanging over her head, replaying in her mind as she felt her cheeks heat up from the thoughts of him consuming her. She could hear the rain that was now coming down outside, and the room was getting dark from the sun beginning to set. 

Brock placed a kiss to her head, her hair unruly from his hand that had been in it only moments prior. He thought about how beautiful she looked in that moment, a soft smile on her lips that were slightly puffed up from kissing, cheeks still flushed. She looked up at him, her smile growing in the moment.

“Can I tell you I love you again?” She said, voice quiet and unsure, something that Brock noticed. Olive was loud and carefree, she didn’t question her feelings or emotions unless they meant something to her. Brock knew how she felt because he had felt that way about her for months now. It was out in the open, and he wanted nothing more than to tell the girl he loved just how much he loved her all the time and hear it back.

“You can tell me you love me anytime you want, Olive.” He said, eyes focussed on her as her cheeks heated up even more. He grabbed her hand that was on his chest and thread his fingers through hers as he adjusted his body to hover over hers, pressing his lips firmly to Olive’s once more that afternoon. 

“I love you, Brockadoodle,” Olive smirked, causing Brock to laugh softly as he hung his head into her neck, his hand squeezing hers gently.

“I love you too, Ollie.” 

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

Days turned into weeks as things shifted into a new normal. Brock and Olive were finally together, completely out in the open for everyone to see. Elias had apologized and fixed things with the both of them, missing his friends and feeling awful that he had unintentionally hurt them for so long. It was now summer and Olive had just gotten back from spending a time in Minnesota with Brock, meeting his family officially as his girlfriend. She felt at ease for the first time in almost a year, she had her friends, she had Brock and now she was starting summer classes to help knock how more of her graduate degree. 

Olive wandered around the second floor of the library with a cold coffee in her hands. She was growing slightly impatient as she looked around for an empty table, groaning internally about why there didn’t seem to be any open spots this time of the year. It was early July, and no one usually took summer classes. She felt her gaze settle on a pretty redhead as she came up with an alternate plan, knowing that she needed to be in the library to focus or she would end up on FaceTime stupidly smiling at her boyfriend much before their scheduled time to talk that night. 

She walked quickly over to the table, the pretty redheaded girl looking up at her wide eyed as she stood across from her.

“Can I sit here? I promise I’ll be quiet and I have snacks I can offer as bribery,” Olive smiled, putting on what she hoped was her friendliest face as the girl looked at her inquisitively. 

“Uhm, sure,” she nodded slightly before settling back into her book. 

Olive sat down and carefully started pulling her materials from her bag. She was doing her best to be quiet, not wanting to disturb the pretty girl in front of her. She let her eyes slip up and connect awkwardly with hers. 

“I’m Olive,” she smiled, trying again to break the ice in hopes that it truly was okay that she was sitting here.

“Autumn,” the girl replied. 

Olive continued arranging her things, combing through her notebook for the page where she left off so that she could resume her reading notes. Autumn watched her carefully as she did so, seeing Olive’s egregious amount of sticky notes with black ink scribbled all over them. She looked over at the book that Olive pulled out, more sticky notes visible from the sides of it. Autumn looked down in front of her, nothing there except for a pen and the short bullet points scribbled on her own arm and she immediately felt the contrast between them. When she looked back up, she noticed that Olive was now holding the same book that she was currently sitting with. 

“Are you in the contemporary poetry writing class too?” Olive looked up at Autumn, her small voice surprising her as she looked over at the book the redhead was currently holding in her hands. She hadn’t yet been to the class, having missed the first week of summer courses because she went home with Brock to meet his family properly, so she couldn’t have seen Autumn before. 

“Yeah, are you?” She asked, a friendly tone in her voice. 

“Mhm, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you, it’s a pretty small class,” Autumn was surprised at how forward she was being, she wasn’t normally one to be talkative with people she didn’t know. But she was new to Vancouver, and finding common ground with someone who had at least given her the impression that she was nice might not be a bad idea. She had been so excited to move here for school, escaping her hellish small town where everyone pathetically needed to one up each other with some trivial small town mindset. She hated how no one there seemed to want to leave, even though every last one of her peers from home were shallow minded and would do anything to cure some of the boredom that came from never leaving. 

‘Oh, no I missed last week. I was in Minnesota with my boyfriend,” Olive smiled, thinking to herself about Brock and how it had only been a few days and she missed him. Her time in Minnesota was short but sweet. Brock’s family was incredibly important to him and she knew how close they were, so meeting them formally and as his girlfriend instead of just in passing had been nerve racking. Brock could ignore Elias’s now non-existent objections, but if his family didn’t like her she knew that it would be a deal breaker for them. 

“Oh, is he from there?” Autumn asked, setting her book down. She could see on Olive’s face how much she lit up at the mention of this boy she was with. She was doing her best to not be shy, to try and make conversation with Olive and hopefully at least have a study partner for their shared class. Autumn was never great at making friends, her thoughts were often internal and she was quiet, and she was normally okay with that. She was an observer and liked to take in the world around her with her own thoughts, coming up with backstories for strangers in her head. But something about Olive was inviting, and she found herself wanting to hear her instead of imagining her story. 

“Yeah, but he lives here for work. He’ll be back in a few weeks though. Hey, you should come out with us. He and our friend Elias have this dive bar night tradition when they get back in town. The bar they pick is usually terrible, but the drinks are cheap and the company is great. 

Autumn was caught off guard at the invitation, but found herself wanting to accept anyways.

“Okay,” she smiled, picking her book up once more and beginning to read. 

Brock had only been back home in Minnesota for a few weeks, but he found himself counting down the days until he could go back to Vancouver. Normally he loved going home, spending everyday on the lake and with his family. But this year it was different, this year he had someone waiting for him in Vancouver, and while he loved being home he knew that his heart was nestled into that small brick studio apartment, tucked safely right on the kitchen table next to a days old mug of coffee and a list that was probably far too scattered for him to even understand, Olive guarding it safely as she worked on the latest project or deadline she had to meet. 

One thing that had been getting him moderately through was their nightly calls, always at the same time, and always ending with both of them falling asleep together over FaceTime. Technology had given them an avenue to still be together, even if it wasn’t physically. 

“I’m so ready for you and the dogs to be back, I feel like I’m going insane here in my apartment now that summer term ended and you’re not here,” Olive smiles into her phone, Brock looking back at her fondly. He had just spent the afternoon on the lake, and his nose was slightly burnt, something that Olive teased him about. Truth be told, he couldn’t wait to be back either, this time for different reasons than the previous years. This year he had someone to come back to, and all he wanted to do was get back into the city and back with his girl. 

“Do you miss me or just the dogs?” He laughed, flipping the camera to show both Coolie and Milo at his feet. 

“Mostly them, but I do miss you too. Oh, speaking of, can I invite someone to dive bar night? I found a place too,” Olive asked as Brock flipped the phone back so that he was showing, now running a hand through his slightly damp hair. 

“Sure? You have a new boyfriend you’re not telling me about?” He joked. 

“No, but I met this girl that I think Elias would like. Brock, she’s like so pretty. Like so absolutely gorgeous, way prettier than Elias and he’s pretty. She’s a redhead though, does he even like redheads? I also kind of already invited her, so if you say no well then that’s tough shit for you,” She started rambling about Autumn, the girl who she had quickly become nearly best friends with in the short time that they had known each other. 

“God Brock, they’d be perfect. They both think too much, it’ll be great. Elias will probably hate her clothes but he can get over that. Did I mention she’s absolutely stunning?” Olive added. 

“Oh my god,” Brock laughed at Olive on his screen, “She’s not prettier than me right? Not going to leave me and build a little bookshop somewhere with her? He joked. 

“I mean if Elias doesn’t go for her, it’s not a bad idea, maybe I should ask her…” Olive trailed off. 

“You’re not even bi, calm down.” Brock teased.

“Sexuality is fluid Brockadoodle, especially when it’s pretty girls who read. Unlike you, who does not.” 

“Petey doesn’t read either!” Brock retorted. 

“Look, all men have flaws. You and Elias just happen to have the same one. If I can deal with it, so can Autumn,” Olive teased as she adjusted her glasses on her nose, taking her pen and scribbling down a few notes. Brock just rolled his eyes slightly, a fond smile on his face as he watched Olive get excited over the idea of playing matchmaker. 

‘I’m kidding, honey. But, I really think that her and Elias would be a pretty couple, as I mentioned, they both think too much.” 

“Maybe we shouldn’t meddle,” Brock tried, not wanting to put them in the middle of something involving Petey again. 

“Listen, I’m trying to help our friends find happiness, this is not the same thing as what happened to us. So, can I bring her to dive bar night?” Olive was set in her mind, Autumn had quickly become one of her best friends and she wanted her to meet the other people in her life that had helped make the last year feel full, and if she could help two of her friends potentially find the love that her and Brock had found, she absolutely wanted to do it. Autumn and Elias both deserved happiness and love, and she couldn’t help but keep adding things to her lists of reasons about why they were almost a perfect match as she thought about setting them up more and more. 

“Of course, I mean I’d love to meet this girl you’re going to run away and start a bookshop with,” Brock teased. He genuinely did want to meet Autumn. He loved hearing Olive get excited about anything, and he was more than happy to add someone else into the small group of friends that he had in Vancouver. 

“Mhm, you don’t think Elias will be mad right? You know how he is about new people, but I think he’d really like her.” Olive said, internally groaning about how selective Elias was about who he spent his time with. It’s not that he was mean, or rude, but he took a while to warm up to new faces. Even when they had become friends, she was so sure he didn’t like her for weeks until they bonded over some obscure European grocery store in East Vancouver.

“He’ll be fine,” Brock shrugged. 

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

A few weeks later, Brock found himself settling back into Vancouver, a familiar calm presence resonating in him as he adjusted back into the routine. This time was different though, because he was happy to be back for new reasons this year, one of which was standing in his ensuite bathroom getting ready for the annual dive bar night experience that had become one of his favorite traditions since moving to Vancouver. 

“Brock, where’s my lipstick? I swear I left one here last time,” Olive called from the ensuite as she dug through the drawer of her things that had found a home in his bathroom. There were signs of her everywhere in his condo, and Brock had been steadily dropping hints for weeks about her just moving in. 

Brock came into the ensuite, gently placing his hand on her waist as he leaned around her to pull the lipstick from his drawer. He smirked slightly as she took it from his hands. He made no move to change positions as he watched her swipe the signature crimson over her lips and fix her hair. 

“You know you wouldn’t have to have duplicates if you just moved in, Ollie,” he said as he kissed her neck softly and tightened his grip on her waist. Olive turned her body into his to face him, lifting her hand to thread her fingers through his hair softly. The idea sounded amazing to her and she couldn’t in good faith argue that it was a bad idea when she knew that she would be spending more time here than her own apartment now that he was back. It also made her heart flutter, knowing that he was serious about her in the ways that she was serious about him. But, she also had her apprehensions, and didn’t want to rush into something too soon. 

“My lease is up in December, let’s revisit then, yeah?” She smiled, thinking he would be okay with the compromise. Brock kissed her in response. 

“So, that’s a yes just not yet, right?” He smirked. 

“We’ll talk in November,” she laughed as she pulled herself away from him, fixing her slightly smudged lipstick. Her phone buzzed with a text from Autumn, letting her know that she was on her way to the bar to meet everyone.

“Come on, you’re always late!” She teased, walking out of the bathroom with Brock on her heels. 

“Yeah, don’t think that’s me.” He laughed as he grabbed his keys.  

Olive reflected back on the last time she walked through these bar doors, she was with Elias and was looking forward to meeting his best friend. She had no idea that by walking into the shitty dive bar in East Vancouver that night that she would meet someone who would completely engulf her with a type of love that she only knew from books and dreams. She didn’t know that the blonde boy, who was slightly sunburnt and bold enough to wear Birkenstocks to a bar would be the one that she was walking in with just a year later. Brock reached his hand down and he laced his fingers with hers, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple before they got to the entrance. 

“Love you, Ollie.” He said, a wave of nostalgia from the last year hitting him as they got closer. Last year he watched as Olive walked into the bar with her red lips and messy hair and this year he was the one that got to walk in holding her hand. To anyone else it would be something straight out of a terrible Hallmark card that you get for Valentine’s Day, but to Brock it was the truth, he did feel lucky. All of the time spent, all of the drama had been worth it to him because that stuff is inconsequential when you know you want to be with someone.

Olive looked up at him and tugged on his hand slightly as she leaned up to kiss him properly, her red lipstick smudging slightly. She took her other hand and wiped it from his lips quickly, smiles on both of their faces. 

“Love you, Brockadoodle. Now, let’s see if we can help Elias fall in love.” 

[sweatersarecomfyy]

Stuck In a Blizzard

(Bucky x Reader)

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Bucky and reader get stuck in a blizzard on the way back from the mission. Reader tries to save face by not letting on how cold they are which ends in comforting fluff and a doting Bucky. 

A/N: This is pure self-indulgent fluff. I have a midterm tomorrow, and of course I procrastinated by polishing this one-shot. Also it has already started snowing where I live.  As always, the reader is kept as non-descript as possible. Literally corn-ball central, it’s just to make you feel all warm and cozy inside. 

It was so cold.

Not cold in the cute ‘curl up with a book and drink cocoa’ way.

It was below freezing, fight for survival, limbs numb, exhausted cold. Even worse than that, we hadn’t been prepared for it. The mission had gone fine, but the weather had taken a nasty turn so that there was no way of flying back. We had barely made it to the safe house and when we got out of the jet, it was blizzarding so much that we couldn’t see.

As we rushed in and slammed the door shut, the flakes didn’t even melt on the doormat.

I stomped my feet, trying to get some feeling back into them. It didn’t do anything. I shivered in my less-than-ideal jacket, and dropped my bag. “Is there a heater?”

Bucky was across the room fiddling with a fuse box. He flipped one of them and some lights came on. It had a cozy-looking interior despite the frigid air. He flipped another one, but the heater gave a couple weak thrums and then stopped. He chuckled, “I guess not.”

I walked over to the fireplace. There was a sizeable stack of firewood and some matches. “I guess we’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way. I knelt down and stacked the firewood like a log cabin. The wood must have been exceptionally dry, because it lit up quickly and the fire became steady.

I shrugged off my now damp jacket and hung it on a chair. I wished it was dry so that I could still wear it. Despite the fire the air was still freezing. I searched my bag in the hope of finding another layer, but it was mostly mission gear and pajamas.

Bucky was making an inventory of the cupboards and everything else. “Well, there is plenty of food, dry stuff, and bars. We won’t starve.” He was wearing his cargo pants and t-shirt, and not shivering at all.

“Aren’t you cold?”

He smiled, “Nope, perks of the super serum I guess.”

The clothes I was wearing were damp as well and I was trying not to show how much I was shivering. I was usually great in the cold. My parents had always called me ‘polar-bear’ because of how much I liked the snow, but this was another level. “I’m going to change,” I said automatically.

He nodded at me and started looking through his bag as well.

Luckily my pjs were sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, but it still wasn’t adequate. I put all the socks I had brought with me on. We had been able to wash up at a location the day before, so nothing smelled too bad.

I was alone, with Bucky, in a cabin in the middle of a storm. I blushed at the prospect of having to share a room with him, but was very worried at the prospect of him seeing me as weak. I had always been tough on missions. I could fight through pain, I could hike when I was exhausted, and I could outsmart almost any enemy battle plan, but I couldn’t control the chattering of my teeth or the numbness spreading through my fingers and toes. With anyone else I may have let down my guard, but with Bucky, I didn’t want to. He was my superior officer, he was my friend too, but non-work excursions didn’t generally require feats of strength and showing your mettle. I didn’t have to worry about looking tough at the movies or having food. This was my first time as a second on a mission—just him and me—we had done group missions before, but I wanted a chance to prove myself. Even then, I liked him; liked him, liked him, and I didn’t want him to think any less of me. I was determined. It was just one night.

When I got out of the bathroom, Bucky had changed as well. He was sitting on the couch with a blanket that I saw he had gotten from an open chest at the foot of the bed. He was messing with the communicators. “No signal right now, we will have to wait for the storm to die down. Hopefully Tony won’t worry too much about you.”

I smiled, confused, “What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s not going to worry about me. He doesn’t like me.” He chuckled.

I chuckled with him, but argued back. “If he’s worried about me more than you it would be that I’m not a super-soldier, just a regular human.”

He frowned slightly, though I wasn’t sure why.

There were three other blankets in the chest. I spread two of them out on the bed and wrapped one around myself. I sat on the couch in front of the fire and started gnawing on a very cold protein bar.

Bucky did the same thing, staring into the flames. “You ok?” he asked suddenly.

I turned towards him and there was a concerned look wrinkling his brow. I smiled, trying to suppress my shivering again, “Yeah, I’m good.” The fire wasn’t doing anything to quell the chill. “I’m just tired I guess.”

He nodded, “You can have the bed, I can take the couch.” He said, he still looked concerned.

I didn’t sleep at all that night. I was afraid that if I did, I would freeze and not be able to wake up. I’m sure I was exaggerating, but my body simply would not let me sleep.

I was exhausted.

///

In the morning, the blizzard was still raging. The only reason I could tell it was morning was because Bucky got up, looked out the window and swore.

“What time is it?” I asked, still huddled under the blankets in bed.

“It’s 8AM, not that anyone could tell that from the amount of snow out there.”

I groaned, and got out of bed, joining him at the window to look outside. I pulled the blanket closer around me. The shivering was starting to make me crazy. I was tired and I wanted to cry, but I pulled myself away and made another fire. I sat myself down on the rug right in front of it.

Bucky came and sat next to me. “You sleep alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, good,” I lied halfheartedly. I probably looked a mess, but I hoped he would somehow not notice. He looked refreshed. He was still wearing that t-shirt and looked as though he was as comfortable as he would be on a balmy spring day.

“Ever been in a blizzard before?” he asked.

I shook my head, “I love the snow, usually.” I laughed shortly, “I love playing in the snow and everything, but I’ve never been in a blizzard, or at least nothing this bad.”

“Did you get snow growing up?”

I nodded, “Yeah, we would get a good amount of snow where I lived. Everyone always was bothered by it, but I actually always looked forward to it.”

“So you’re a little polar-bear,” he nudged me with his elbow playfully.

“Yeah,” I tried to smile with his teasing.

We found a set of cards and played for a while in front of the fire, chatting. The stove still worked, and Bucky managed to boil some water so we could have cup noodles and hot chocolate. We even found some old Disney tapes and a VCR and watched Mulan and The Lion King. I know Bucky had seen some Disney movies before, cause I made him watch some, but we hadn’t gotten around to these ones and it was adorable to see him laugh and be surprised at the stories, he almost seemed like a child again. I even saw him wipe away a tear during the Lion King.

I almost felt warm. Almost. I kept the blanket wrapped around me the whole day and tried to stay as close to the fire as possible. We didn’t have a temperature reading, but I was sure it was still far below zero as when I had seen it the day before in the jet.

I didn’t feel great. My body was so exhausted from the mission and not sleeping, and it was wavering under the stress of being cold, but I was trying to save face. I felt my eyes close a couple of times during the movie, and in our last game of cards I couldn’t seem to pay attention. I felt like crying, but I wouldn’t.

“Are you doing alright?”

My eyes snapped up to Bucky, what did he see? “Yeah, why?” I made an effort to smile.

“You just seem a little unfocused.”

I nodded, “Yeah, I’m all good.”

He didn’t look convinced, “You know you can tell me if something is wrong, right?”

“I know,” I tried not to make eye contact with him, his asking made tears start to prick at my eyes. I was just so exhausted.

“You did really well on the mission, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know I don’t say a lot of stuff like that, but you did do really well.”

“Thanks, I’m fine, really.”

He was silent for a moment, I looked at my hand of cards, not wanting to look at him.

“I,” he sighed, “I—Can you let me know what’s on your mind? I just have a feeling that you’re not telling me something.”

I couldn’t stop the tears from running down my face. I tried to wipe them away, and he noticed.

“Hey, hey—” he scooted toward me on the floor and set his hand on my knee, “It’s ok, just tell me what’s up.”

I sniffed, oh goodness, I could slap myself. I was sniffing. “I’m just—just so—cold,” I lamely half-stuttered, half-shivered.” I wiped more tears away, “I didn’t want you to judge me.”

“For being cold?”

I couldn’t look him in the face, I shook my head, “For being weak.”

“I don’t think you’re weak—but why—why would I think your being cold made you weak?”

I shrugged, “I dunno.” I sniffed again, wiped at my nose and eyes again, trying to stop my body shaking from sobs and shivering.

“Oh hon, no,” He pushed some hair back from my face, “I don’t think you’re weak. I chose you to be second on this mission because I think you’re the opposite of that. We work well together, and you always persevere, even when things get tough.”

I stifled another sob, “I know, but now—”

“You can’t control the weather doll.”

“I’ve been through so much worse though, and then this gets me,” I gestured to the cold, “And I just wanted to impress you and I didn’t want to complain,” I sniffed again, “And I’m just so tired and I can’t think. And now I’m crying.” I gave a dry laugh.

“How did you actually sleep last night?”

He was still close to me with his hand resting on my knee, I didn’t look at him. “Terribly.”

“You should have told me.” He said gently.

I looked up at him and gave a faltering smile, “Well it’s not like there was that much you could do about it either.”

He wiped some tears from my cheek, and I felt my face grow warm from the contact.

“You still could have told me, we’re partners we need to be honest with each other, and I think there is something I could have done.” The look on his face was so gentle and kind that I felt my chest blooming with a different type of warmth.

I wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but in one fluid movement he had pulled me into his lap and stood up. I gave a small noise of surprise, and was so startled that my arms automatically wrapped around him as was lifted into the air.

“Bucky—” I started.

He walked to the bed, “You need sleep, and you need heat.”

“Uh—”

“We’re going to cuddle,” he stated simply. He set me down and pulled back the covers, settling in next to me.

“Oh, um, you don’t need—”

“I’m lead on the mission, right? That means I need to take care of you.”

“Bucky—”

He pulled the covers over us and wrapped his arms around me, tucking my head into the crook of his neck. He gave a relaxed sigh, “Are you comfortable?”

I nodded into his chest.

“Good.”

“Bucky, thank you, but you really don’t need to do this.”

I felt his nose graze the top of my hair, “If I didn’t want to do this, I wouldn’t be doing this. If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll go. I just thought you might need some extra body heat.”

Honestly, it felt heavenly. He was so warm. I felt my shivering start to subside as soon as he had pulled the covers over us. I didn’t ever want him to leave.

“You’re so warm,” I mumbled, feeling myself start to drift off.

I felt his chest rumble as he chuckled, “I tend to run hot.”

I don’t know if it was my vulnerable sleepy mind, or a streak of bravery, but I heard myself say: “Yeah you do,” in an obviously playful voice.

My eyes shot open after I heard myself, and I found myself looking at a smirking Bucky.

“I—I don’t, I’m sorry—” I stuttered, then I groaned, and tried to turn away from him.

He laughed at me, “Oh no you don’t,” he kept me from turning over, pulling me tighter to his body, “Do you have something you want to say to me?”

I heard the smirk in his voice, and didn’t dare look at him, instead covering my face in my hands, “No?”

“I think you do,” He insisted.

“It’s ok, you can let me freeze now.”

He laughed again and pried my hands from my face, “Hey, you don’t get to get out of an explanation.”

I hid my face as much as possible in the pillow.

“We’re partners, right? We need to be honest.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just stop making fun—I’m so tired.”

He laughed, but not an unkind laugh, “I’m not making fun, I’m just wondering. Is it possible you said that cause you like me? Doll?”

I let myself look into his face. Although I knew he was amused by the situation, his eyes and voice were sincere, he actually wanted to know. I nodded, twice, slowly. I looked away again and became even more aware of his arms around me, and his body pressed next to mine. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—didn’t know how to—it’s just that we’re friends and you’re my superior—and I’m just—just—"

I was cut off as he tilted my face towards his with one of his hands, and kissed me. I let out a breath of surprise, but his hands threaded through my hair, keeping his lips on mine, and I kissed him back. My brain seemed to have short-circuited and my whole body was suddenly filled with warmth. I wasn’t shivering from the cold anymore.

He pulled away, and I tried to follow with a noise of complaint, but I opened my eyes. I have never received a look like the look he gave me before. It was so full of love an adoration that I was taken aback. He loved me, just as I loved him, and he didn’t have to say anything for me to know, but he did anyway.

“I should have told you sooner,” he said, “I’m such a coward, you’re the brave one. I love you, I love you so, so much.”

I smiled, and brushed some hair behind his ear, “I love you too Bucky, so, so much.”

He gave me another kiss, just as passionate, but shorter. “You still need sleep,” he noted, and pulled me as close as possible, and allowing me to rest in his warmth.

[votederpycausemufins]

no, you know what, next chapter now! remember this is chapter 3 of this war arc thing so if you didn’t read chapter 2 since i posted it like 5ish hours ago, go read that first. look! here’s some links!

Chap 1   Chap 2

Hey, can you tell I like grian? cause today i’m using Avian!Grian, Watcher!Grian and Triplet!Grian all together. 

Next chapter is gonna be a flashback based loosely on the fic @strawberrylemonz wrote of the triplets in the Antarctic empire.

but for now, have a sprinkling of angst. or maybe more than just a sprinkling.

When Tommy opened his eyes again, he found himself with all the Hermits in the town hall. A few Hermits that were already there like Zedaph brought out potions and food and other items for everyone to recover. Nearby Grian was shaking out the water that got on his wings from the emergency button being used.

“How’re ya doing Big G?” Tommy asked as he walked over, grabbing another mask of his own face from the table.

“Fine, what about you Tommy?”

“Dream kinda saw me right before the button got pressed. But he didn’t get a chance to hit me.” Immediately Grian was acting like a mother hen towards him and Tommy had to push the avian away. “Grian! I’m fine!”

“Are you sure? Because Techno and d- Philza were also there.”

“Yeah, I heard you confronted them.” Tommy softened his voice, noticing the look of pain on Grian’s face.

“Neither of them recognized me. I mean, it makes sense since it’s been so long for me and I look so… different.”

Tommy hugged Grian. He didn’t believe it when he learned that this was his missing older brother, but when Grian used his real name, something he shouldn’t have known, Tommy changed his mind. “Hey, c’mon, once this is all over you can brag about being the oldest now.”

Grian laughed and ruffled Tommy’s hair. “Yeah, and you look as old as Techno did out there.”

“No I don’t, he’s an old fart!” Tommy complained. “I’m still a teen!”

“You’re twenty-one!”

“I’m a child!”

Grian laughed. When Tommy had first shown up, he did everything to seem older than he was, now he refused to admit he’d grown up. “C’mon, let’s just-” He was cut off by a buzzing from their communicators. The two of them looked around and noticed the other hermits were doing the same. Everyone was here, so it couldn’t be a death message.

Xisuma tapped his helmet and everyone saw the glow of him looking at the communications chat. “Iskall, someone named Fundy is saying they’re at your tree.”

The redstoner immediately messed with his robotic eye to look at his own chat. His other eye widened and he equipped his elytra. “I’m going to go after him. I doubt it would be an ambush, there’s no way they could have gotten a whole group there while we were fighting.”

Rendog also put his elytra on. He said he would go with Iskall as some extra muscle just to be safe. The two of them flew off, careful to stay out of range of anyone in Dream’s army before heading toward the Omega Tree.

“Hey, now that they know I’m here, should we use me more as bait?” Tommy spoke up, causing Grian to pull him closer.

“Absolutely not. Any mistake and you could be captured!”

Before Tommy could complain, False spoke up. “Actually, it’s a good plan. You helped him learn to fly so he’s great at it. He’ll have no trouble escaping into the air. And he can also set up another pearl if they do capture him. Someone can watch in the sky and send word if he needs rescue.”

“But what if he-” Grian tried to speak up, but Tommy stopped him.

“Grian, I know these people. It would work. And I know how to get out of tough situations. And I’m not going to be the only one down there. Doesn’t make sense to send me there alone.

Reluctantly, Grian let Tommy go. The blond smiled and then gave his brother one last hug before pulling his mask on and leaving with a group of Hermits. All of them placed ender pearls in the emergency button and then left the town hall through bubble columns. Grian watched them go before following behind to be their eyes in the sky. Cub came with him, his vex wings still there from his earlier confrontation with Dream.

When the Hermits suddenly reappeared, Dream was ready for them. Instead of an axe, he held a sword. Whenever a Hermit got close, he would injure them and then use the long blade to pull off or break their mask. Tommy was going to be there, under one of those masks. And when Dream saw his sorry face next, he would drag the teen back home.

Dream heard a grunt from behind him and glanced back to see Philza with his weapon clashing with a hermit’s sword. Even with the mask, Dream could see the silver hair of said hermit. Dream may not have been familiar with their enemy as much as he wished, but there was one well known name he recognized. Etho. While Philza was a man who had lived years on hardcore, Etho had been living on a single world for longer. Both were very experienced men. 

In his distraction, a hermit attacked Dream. He deflected their attack but in the process managed to hinder his teammate and suddenly Philza was killed. Dream attacked back, and while the Hermit who attacked him got away, Etho did not, having been left on a single heart when Phil died, only being alive from Dream’s mistake.

But he didn’t have time to dwell as more attacks came from the hermits. Once they had defeated these people, he could take over as admin and bring them back.

Philza gasped as he woke up on the bed, energy flowing through him from respawning. It wasn’t something he was used to, and before he almost didn’t link with the bed. When he started to get up, he heard rustling and immediately turned to fight. But no one was there, which was fine as his death had left him with no gear. Phil could hear fighting from outside the building and he quickly looked in the various chests for anything.

Philza ended up breaking part of the building for sticks and made himself a sword with the diamonds they found earlier, even finding more of the gem in chests they hadn’t bothered to check before. It wasn’t enough for a full set of gear, but it was enough. The only problem was trying to put on his chestplate, Phil finally noticed what happened. 

It was impossible. They had been too damaged and the last time he had to respawn, nothing had happened. But there, right on his back were his wings, undamaged. Not a single feather was harmed or scorched or missing. 

A shout from outside drew Philza’s attention back to the battle. He nearly put his wings away to put on his chest plate when he remembered how their enemy had elytra. He was the only one on their side who could fly. Phil stored the chest plate in a nearby barrel for later and left the building through the open roof. None of the hermits seemed to notice him until it was too late and his weapon cut into them. There were one or two of those from the smp who attacked him before realizing who exactly they were seeing, but otherwise, the reappearance of his wings was appreciated.

When Tommy saw his dad in the air, he couldn’t help but stare for a moment. He had told Xisuma about the situation of his dad. At first he thought that Philza had completely lost his wings, which would make sense why a respawn couldn’t help. But since he still had them, the admin was able to set a trigger for the avian’s wings to heal when he respawned. It was a risk that could help Dream, but Tommy hoped that the return of Phil’s wings would help him switch sides.

The sight invigorated Tommy and he was slashing at his old friends left and right. He managed to catch sight of False nearby and Techno fighting so he moved over to assist her. It was perfect timing as False managed to be cornered and Techno proclaimed the kill for the blood god just before Tommy could manage to remove the weapon from his brother’s hand.

“Leave her alone.” Tommy said as Techno glared up at him. He had hit a growth spurt while in hermitcraft and his voice deepened, so Tommy wasn’t surprised that his brother didn’t recognise him. Behind him False got up and ate a gold apple as well as splashing a potion over her own head, a bit of the liquid managing to splash onto Tommy, giving him a few seconds of healing.

But as Tommy stood to cover his head, Dream joined next to Techo and sliced the mask off Tommy’s face. When it fell, Tommy could clearly see the slight surprise on Techno’s face. While the warrior wasn’t that expressive, growing up with him made it easier for Tommy to read his face. Dream on the other hand grinned so large his smile could be seen out the sides of his mask.

Before Tommy could react, his arm was grabbed in a crushing grip from Dream. False in a panic simply yelled Tommy’s name, which ended up bringing the attention of the rest of the SMP members.

False swung her sword at Dream, giving Tommy just enough of a gap to use a firework and launch himself into the air. Dream called for the smp members to focus on Tommy and suddenly arrows were flying at him. With another rocket he flew further into the air. Looking down, Tommy saw an arrow coming towards him. He attempted to dodge, but it clipped his elytra, leaving a small tear in one wing. 

A few more arrows also managed to reach him. When he wasn’t sure he could dodge them, the blond tried to make sure they directly hit him. Tommy had plenty of healing items and had nice armor, but if his elytra were too damaged, no amount of armor would help a fall like that.

Then, the thing he feared most happened. As he flew, rain started to fall. A few moments later there was the sound of a riptide trident being used. He turned to see Punz, having used his trident to get just close enough then he pulled out a crossbow and shot it. There was no time for Tommy to react and it went through one wing of his elytra. As Punz descended, Tommy tried to use fireworks to push him towards the ocean, but in his panic, all he did was push himself further up into the air. And then the elytra gave up on him and Tommy started to fall. 

Philza heard the noise of a trident as the rain started to fall. He looked around in the air just in time to see Punz’s arrow destroy Tommy’s elytra followed by what sounded like Tommy calling for help. While he had trouble getting used to flying again after months of being grounded, Phil immediately flapped his wings as hard and as fast as he could. He refused to lose another child. So he pushed himself to get to Tommy before the worst could happen.

Grian wasn’t sure how he missed Tommy flying into the air, but he didn’t miss his brother screaming his name. He looked down to see Tommy falling, his elytra in shreds. He saw another avian flying towards his fallen brother. Grian knew that he was the only avian of the hermits so this other person had to be working with Dream. 

As Grian pulled his wings in to dive towards Tommy, he realized he wouldn’t be able to make it. Sure there was enough time to reach Tommy before he hit the ground, but not enough before Tommy was grabbed by the other avian. As he continued to fall, Grian closed his eyes. He searched for something he buried deep inside himself. The red, yellow and blue feathers on his wings changed to purple, black and salt & pepper. When he next opened his eyes, there were 6 of them, all glowing a purple color. He opened his wings once more and gave a mighty flap, sending magical energy out through them and creating what sounded like thunder as the expelled energy propelled him faster towards Tommy. 

Just before the other avian could reach his brother, Grian’s arms wrapped around Tommy and the wings wrapped around both of them. He didn’t have enough time to use more energy and teleport them away or slow them down, so he just braced himself. Then they hit the ground, all the force going into Grian’s wings. It was painful, but right now he didn’t care. The adrenalin from nearly losing Tommy was kicking in and the pain made his mind hazy. 

The powers he had gained from being a watcher were dangerous and something he usually kept blocked off so he wouldn’t lose himself in it, but right now, with his current state, he wasn’t thinking of that, and slowly the previously locked away powers grew more dangerous and tempting.

Dream held his breath as Tommy fell. He didn’t want them to have come all this way for Tommy to lose his last life here. Luckily Phil was in the air, racing towards his son. He was sure that the Avian would reach Tommy until there was the sound of thunder and the sky lit up with a purple light. The figure that was lit up made his blood run cold. No. It wasn’t possible. A watcher. And not just any watcher. The Dreamslayer himself was a watcher. In a way it made sense how this would be the one person who seemed to be able to kill him, but knowing the full power he held was not a happy thought.

Dream managed to get his army to retreat just far enough in time that no one ended up in the destruction of Grian crash landing. Everyone stared, no one moved. Even the Hermits looked terrified of their own ally. Phil landed safely and tried to move to the crater, but Dream grabbed him. Techno was the next to move as The wings parted revealing Tommy hidden beneath them. Again, Dream tried to stop him, but Techno was further than Phil had been. While Techno had recently been staying out of things, Dream didn’t want to lose someone who was so good at making his stories perfect.

Techno held out his axe, ready to strike Grian, but the avian watcher just grabbed the blade of the axe. His head looked up and all six eyes focused on the weapon, each of them blinking out of sync. He only stopped looking when Tommy groaned, while he was physically uninjured, the rush of falling and the rapid pressure changes as well as the energy from Grian had caused him to pass out.

Techno pulled his weapon back, unsure if he should strike again. Half of the voices were telling him to attack and kill this person who took his brother, but the other half seemed to actually want him to stop. But the first half was louder and he swung the axe down again. Time seemed to slow down as he saw the supposed avian look back up and smile hauntingly. He resolved himself and cried out, “Blood for the Blood God!” as he put more force into the swing.

The moment the axe blade hit Grian’s skull, it shattered. Around them people started moving. A quick glance let Techno see the Hermits moving the smp army away, trying to protect their enemies. Looking back at his own enemy, Techno was met with Grian standing up. He spoke, but instead of his own voice, Grian spoke in Techno’s voice. He parroted the line the pvper had just spoken, only saying it louder and louder.

“Blood for the Blood God! Blood for the Blood God!!! Blood for the Blood God!!!” And then, in his normal voice, he shouted once more. “BLOOD FOR ME!!!”

[sukipershipper]

Can you spill some of ur bugsnax hcs?

I assume you mean with the characters, in which case, Yes of course!  Bear with me though that all of these are going to take place Post-Snaktooth Island. I might do some headcanons on what happened on the island but for now take these.

(SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THE END OF THE GAME, I also apologize for it being so freaking long...I actually did not intend on that)

FILBO

They all lived in a small but very prosperous town, said town doesn’t have a name cause Mun isn’t creative enough to make one yet

After being elected Mayor, Filbo had learned to become more assertive with others. His role as Mayor of the small town involves him doing a few small tasks, like cleaning up the streets or helping with lessons at the schools

Other times however he is brought into meetings to plan celebrations, opening new buildings and ways they can develop the community.

His meeting council includes Floofty, who is always helping him out in terms of his decisions.

His office has all of the trinkets and maps from Liz’s adventures, as well as pictures of everything they did on Snaktooth and all the pictures she and Eggabelle have of each other.

Filbo constantly sends out letters in bottles to Snaktooth in the hopes that Liz and Egg will find it and write back. He is still waiting on a response from them

When he gets bored, he often just draws in a spare journal he has. He does this in meetings or when he’s at a lunch with the others

He had a statue of Liz and Egg made and placed in the center of the town to help remember them and what they stood for

WAMBUS/TRIFFANY

Wambus and Triffany live in a small country home just outside the town next to the beach and a small grotto. 

The place has a large amount of land for Wambus to start a farm with all sorts of sauces. The beach they live next to has a big cave with all sorts of secrets that Triffany is willing to discover.

Reconnecting with their kids has been a challenge, seeing as they left quite abruptly. The kids did eventually start coming around though.

Wambus is a very good cook, lots of people headcanon it and I headcanon it too. The man can make a mean roast. Only reason he never did it on Snaktooth was because the food was already walking around so he had no need to.

Triffany may look like a stick but she’s actually quite strong. On the same levels as Wambus and Chandlo? Maybe not. But she has punted several people before.

She is also very unconventional in her methods, resulting in lots of Scars and broken bones. Wambus had tried bandaging her up before but after failing 15 times he just called Floofty.

Speaking of Floofty, the couple have a very good relationship with the scientist. Floofty often helps Triffany with collecting samples or attempting to help Wambus with growing crops, though those attempts often result in Wambus yelling and Triffany trying to calm her husband down.

FLOOFTY

Floofty now teaches at the towns school, they’re a very talented professor and many of the students they teach have delighted in their work. Though other teachers find the methods very...unconventional.

Though Floofty is still quite cold hearted to most of the grumpus’ they have learned to be more cheerful towards certain Grumps. One of which being Snorpy and the other being their students.

Many students ask how Floofty lost their leg, to which they reply: That information is irrelevant, but if you truly wish to know then speak with the Mayor

When Not teaching they’re usually helping Snorpy out with anything involving the Grumpinati. Though they aren’t really of much help considering their methods

They definitely are considered a cannibal, Floofty was once seen carrying an arm (no one knows if that was theirs) and took a little nibble of it...then spat it out and complained that it was too salt

They are always helping Filbo out in terms of his mayoral duties.

GRAMBLE/WIGGLE

Gramble and Wiggle share a small little two story home in the town. The house is decorated with all sorts of flowers and different patterns on the fence

While Wiggle is always busy touring, playing music, Gramble became the local veterinarian for the town. His experience with the Snax actually prepared him for the animals. 

He also has a small little puppy, ten times better than any of the Snax he had

Gramble still does keep pictures of Sprout around his room, as much as he hated knowing he harbored a parasite in his home, he still missed the little guy. (I am fully convinced the one at the end though was Sprout)

He and Wiggle began dating right after they settled into the house together, believing that it was much needed change for the both of them.

Gramble knits sweaters for Wiggle since she goes out touring so much, he also knits plush versions of the Snax he kept back on Snaktooth. It was the biggest mistake he made, cause now he envisions them staring at him and wanting to murder him

Wiggle always tries to help him when it comes to his nightmares. Playing white noise or ASMR videos so he can go to sleep

Her songs are very well received and she has quite a lot of publicity. Do The Wiggle is still one of her best selling numbers, but she has some love for her other pieces too.

She is always asked to sing at events by Filbo, and of course she never says no. One of her favorite things to do is get one of the kids to come up and sing Do The Wiggle with her since it’s one of the best songs in their opinion

She has a ring box tucked away in her dresser, she’s waiting for the right moment to pull it out on Gramble and propose

CROMDO

Cromdo is doing much better in life, opening up a successful karaoke bar and gets quite a lot of business from some of the guys in town. 

He also showed the less serious side of himself a lot more, and once he let down such a defensive guard he was able to get further in life, albeit he still has a long way to go

He and Beffica still don’t get along, but they’re on better terms than they were back on Snaktooth 

He hasn’t completely dropped his ways though, he’s still a big old Scumbag (and we love him for it). Often he tries to make a profit off something miniscule like an old bottlecap. 

Though Cromdo is still a scumbag, he helped Filbo and Buddy set up Filbo’s campaign to get him elected

Cromdo still tries stealing Triffany’s stuff and Wambus fucking yeets him all the way into town. How he has no broken bones from that is still a mystery to everyone.

BEFFICA

Beffica is now a photographer for the local newspaper, probably not a good choice in many of the Grumps opinions

She is however much better than she was on Snaktooth, and does have a small friend group outside of the Snaktooth Island group

Her old friend group has tried getting in touch with her but she’s very reluctant to talk to them again

Many of the older grumpus’ have basically adopted her because she’s still very shaky after everything, they didn’t expect her to be so shaky but life is surprising.

Her favorite person to go to though is Triffany, for the pure fact that she and Triffany just talk about guys and it’s the best chat ever

She and Filbo are on much better terms, and she may or may not have some feelings hidden for the new Mayor but we will never truly know

She and her ‘Bestie’ go out for Boba tea all the time, a truly fun experience for the both of them

CHANDLO/SNORPY

Chandlo takes Snorpy out on morning runs all the time, he’s proud that his bro is taking baby steps into letting the outside world embrace them

Oh, Snorpy is also He/They now, I honestly feel like it fits them

Snorpy and Chandlo moved to a small little apartment complex for now. The home is very quaint and the two have little designated areas for all the stuff they have.

They also had to make room for Floofty as the sibling insisted on staying with their brother for...reasons

Chandlo goes to library a lot to learn new techniques to help Snorpy, but he also secretly reads up on articles about the Grumpinati in the hopes to help Snorpy destroy them one day

He and Floofty have made a strong pact over the fact that Snorpy must be protected at all costs, no exceptions

Snorpy is a lot more open about what he does now, often asking for advice from Chandlo about his inventions and whatnot.

Neither of them are good cooks, they both try but both almost always burn the complex down so they just ask Floofty to do it

Snorpy actually bruises very easily, he is a literal tomato. So he doesn’t always participate in many physical activities but he does try his best

When Snorpy does bruise, Chandlo goes into full panic mode as he doesn’t know how to tend to wounds. No one ever told him that you can put ice to make it go down quicker

They are married, they have all the paperwork signed and the rings to prove it

SHELDA

She does still go by the name Shelda as people aren’t quite used to calling her Shellsy Woolbag

She actually took up dating when she encountered an old friend of hers, such friend does not have a name because as stated before, Mun is not creative

Shelda has a lot of books and meditation CD’s in her shelves, she also has a Tape Player so when she goes out on walks she can listen to some of the best audiobook readings

She and Floofty get a long a little better, sometimes Floofty will give her insight as to what the world is to THEM and Shelda shares a funny story in return, one that does manage to make Floofty laugh surprisingly.

People don’t often see her get out much, possibly because she’s always busy writing up her experiences and whatnot

She is Buddy’s comfort and the one that they room with currently, she is actually very good company believe it or not

She and Buddy also love writing little stories together as practice for her next book, and they also exchange drawings and doodles they’ve done over the course of the day.

And that’s pretty much it! 

[deanandthephantoms]

Perfect Harmony Pt.1 - Reader x Charlie

Soo.. This is my first attempt at writing a story. This story is, in a very short summary gonna be about how the reader and Charlie Gillespie met, became best friends, drifted apart, and found each other again. Thank you @happinessinthedarkesttimes for giving me the idea to write this. I hope you’ll enjoy! This is chapter one of.. who knows how many, it might become a long one. Oh and all feedback is welcome :). You can read chapter 2 here and chapter 3 here !

Start of something new

When Y/N was 16 years old her mom thought it was a good idea to send her to a summer camp for teenagers to young adults. Now that may sounds like a fun thing, but Y/N was always very shy and very insecure at first, I guess that’s what 10 long years of being bullied on the regular does to a person.. As you can imagine going out and meeting a insanely large group of new people was a pretty terrifying thing to her. So when she was on her way in a bus to the summer camp surrounded by other camp-goers she was in full panic mode thinking things like; WHAT AM I DOING? I DON’T WANT TO GO! WHAT IF THEY’RE ALL GONNA BE MEAN TO ME?! there however was no turning back now.. Luckily it was only a week, she would survive.. Right?

When the bus arrived at her home for the coming week y/n was overwhelmed by the amount of people that were already there.  Luckily a camp staff member came up to her soon enough and told her she was placed into a smaller group with 8 other people from around her age. Still scary but focusing on meeting 8 new people sure was a lot less scary than having to meet at least 100 people all at once. The counselor also showed Y/N where her room for the week was.

When Y/N stepped into her bedroom for the week she saw 3 pairs of eyes looking at her. One of the girls jumped up from her bed and said; “Hey! I don’t think we’ve met yet? I’m Madison! That’s Savannah” she said while pointing towards the blonde girl sitting on one of the beds, Savannah gave you a smile and a small wave. “And that’s Jadah” she said while gesturing towards the girl making her bed. “hi!” Jadah said with a big smile. I took Madison’s held out hand and shook it. “Hey nice to meet you all.” You smiled shyly. “You’re right it’s my first time here so I haven’t really met anyone yet.. My name is Y/N by the way.” “ Nice to meet you too Y/N!”Madison said. “So since you’re sleeping in our room I bet that means you’re also in our group, right?” “Oh.. eh.. I’m not sure..?” “I replied. Is that usually how this works? Have you 3 been here before?” I asked while claiming my bed for the week. “Yeah!” They all said at the same time, sounding very excited. This time it was Savannah who continued to speak; “I’ve been coming here every summer since I was 13. That was also the year I met Madison and Jadah and the rest of our group, who you will meet soon enough. We actually have become really close friends over the years so we keep coming back here to see each other. You’re gonna love our group!” I smiled at her excitement. “I sure hope so.” “So.. Jadah began, how did you end up coming here?” “Honestly? I said, my mom thought it would be a brilliant idea to send me here, to meet some new people..” “You don’t sound very excited about it”Jadah noticed. “You picked up on that huh? You’re right..” I quickly explained to the girls that I’m very shy and insecure at first which makes meeting new people a hard and scary thing. They all nodded understandingly. “Hey, Madison said, we got you okay? no need to feel scared or anything.” The 3 girls smiled at me and for some reason I felt they meant it. “Thank you I said, that really does mean a lot. So.. while we’re on the topic of meeting new people, when will we be meeting the rest of our group?” I asked nervously. “In 30 minutes or so Madison replied, our first group activity starts at 3pm”.  “Group activity?” I asked with a nervous look on my face. Savannah laughed,”don’t worry they call it a activity but it’s basically just some time to meet everyone in your group and the leaders of your group.”  “oh, that doesn’t sound tooo bad” I replied, still feeling very nervous but at least I had those 3 girls who genuinely seemed nice.

3pm came sooner than I wanted and before I knew it Jadah was dragging me along to my first group activity. When we got there the rest of our group and our two older leaders we’re already there. Jadah sat me down next to this boy with brown hair and hazel eyes the boy greeted Jadah and gave me a smile. I soon would learn that his name was Charlie. He came to camp with two of his friends, Owen and Jeremy who were also in our group. Then there was this boy called Taylor and another girl called Tori and last but not least our leaders, a man called Ray, who seemed super chill and laid back and a woman named Rose who seemed to be the sweetest person. During that first time meeting everyone I actually started to feel more comfortable, they all seemed pretty nice. Maybe this week wouldn’t be so bad after all.. Soon after meeting your group it was time for dinner with the entire camp. Madison gestured for you to come sit with her, an invitation you happily accepted you had met enough new people for the day. During the dinner the head camp counselors asked for everybody’s attention. They introduced themselves to us and told us some crazy story about how we were gonna play ‘glow in the dark paintball’. Madison laughed at my confused face. “I hate to break the fun but this all just means we’re having a dropping later tonight. they try this every year. They try to prepare us for an intense, active night without actually saying they’re dropping us in the middle of nowhere.” She whispered to me. “Oohhh” I simply replied, actually feeling a bit disappointed.

-Later that night y/n found out Madison was right, the group and their two leaders got dropped in the middle of nowhere and as we speak were trying to find their way back “home”.- 

I found myself walking next to Charlie, he was chatting away about all kinds of things I learned all about his family and about his girlfriend who apparently was a staff member on this camp and he promised me, he would introduce me to her. I had to admit, I had the worst experience with boys I had kind of decided that I hated all of them, but this Charlie dude was very easy to talk to, he has this energy that just makes you feel at ease and the other boys seem very nice too.. Charlie ripped me away from my own thoughts, “Sooo Y/N what kind of music do you like? Please tell me you like music..” I couldn’t help but laugh, “If I like music? nah”. I left a short silence before continuing;  “I love music!” even though it was dark I could tell he smiled at that answer. “What kind of music is a hard question though. I literally listen to all kinds of things from rock to silly boybands.. I enjoy it all.” It was that moment a song of  the band Linkin park popped into my head and I softly started singing it “When my time comes Forget the wrong that I've done. Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed.” Realizing what I was doing I quickly shut up again. “Y/N, were you just singing a Linkin park song?” Charlie asked me. “Yeah..” I replied half ashamed, “they’re one of my favorite bands actually.” I said. “NO WAY!”He replied all excited. “I love them too!” And without any warning he continued singing the song I started singing. – this boy can sinnnng I thought to myself before joining him and singing along, it only took Owen, Jeremy and Taylor 5 seconds to join us and before I knew it we were walking through the woods at night just singing apparently this entire group really loved music and i was not complaining. After a good while of singing all kinds of songs we quieted down and just had many conversations about everything. And after a few hours of being lost we found our way back. Me and the girls wished the boys a goodnight which apparently goes along with a lot of hugs, this is where I learned Charlie gives the best hugs. They’re some of the tightest hugs I’ve ever had, but at the same time the most comfortable and save feeling ones as well.. I went to sleep as a happy girl that night, so glad all of those people were so nice to me I actually may have found myself some new good friends here.

When I stepped out of my room the next morning I saw Charlie talking to a girl. “Y/N!” He motioned for me to come over, so I did. “Morning Charlie” I said. “Good morning” he replied ,sounding a lot more alive than I felt. “I promised you I would introduce you to my girlfriend didn’t i? So Y/N this is Emma. Emma meet Y/N it’s her first time here and she’s part of our group now!” “Ohh,” Emma replied. “It’s so nice to meet you! I hope you’ll have a lovely time here” she smiled at me. “It’s nice to meet you too, Charlie has told me quite a bit about you” I told her with a smile. “Only good things I hope”, she said more to the boy than to me. “Anyway breakfast is about to start so I should go and meet my fellow staff members”. She gave Charlie a quick kiss and gave us a ‘I’ll see you soon’ before running off. “So that was Emma, she seems nice” I told Charlie. Charlie smiled, “She is! She came into my life when I was feeling very low. In some way she really saved me you know.” “Well I’m glad she did” I told him. I couldn’t imagine this happy, social, excited boy being depressed.. this Emma girl sure did something right.  “Yeah me too” Charlie replied, “should we go get some breakfast?” And before I could even say anything Charlie was already on his way.

The rest of the day was filled with playing games with our group against other groups. Not gonna lie, we were the worst we lost every single game but boy did we have fun. We were cheering each other on, Tori thought us some cheerleader dance, we were laughing at our own failure and singing random songs trough out the day. After dinner there was this thing called “Family time” which i learned, basically meant getting together with your own small group and talking about a more serious topic. Ray and Rose , our older leaders, were talking to us about believing in yourself and knowing that you’re good enough just the way you are. And while the others were saying things here and there, I was quiet. Veeery quiet. I never really believed in myself, all I had been hearing for 10 years is how ugly I was, how I failed at a most things, people laughed at me when I did something wrong, boys told me I didn’t deserve to be loved.. and i could go on..  I did not like myself at all and I sure didn’t think I was good enough for anything or anyone. Rose ended our night by reading us a little poem she wrote about how loved we were. As soon as we were allowed to go I walked off quickly I felt the tears burning in my eyes. I couldn’t cry, not in front of my new friends.. So I sat down in a somewhat hidden spot and just silently cried with my head in my hands.

After a minute or so I felt someone sit down beside me and putting an arm around my shoulder pulling me a little closer. Then I heard a voice ask me “Y/N are you okay? What’s wrong?” It was Charlie genuinely sounding concerned, he slowly rubbed my back trying to calm me down. This entire thing he did was new to me, I wasn’t used to people noticing something was wrong or asking me if I was doing okay and I was definitely not used to a boy comforting me. I-I , I began but the sobs made it impossible to speak. Charlie pulled me into a hug and kept telling me it was okay. After a few minutes of sobbing into his shirt I calmed down a bit and Charlie let go of me. I smiled at him with a tear stained face, “thank you for that and sorry about your shirt..” “don’t worry about it”he replied “Now do you wanna tell me what was wrong?” “ I uhh.. I guess I’m not really used to people telling me I’m loved or people telling me I’m good enough. I’m actually more used to the opposite of that.. so hearing those things just really overwhelmed me and apparently broke me..”I could see in Charlie’s face that he felt bad for me. “I’m so sorry”he said, “you’re such a cool person Y/N! We all happen to think that so you better believe it.” “Stop!” I said slapping his arm playfully “or you’ll make me cry all over again.” He laughed, “I’m sorry. But it’s true.” Not really knowing how to deal with that compliment I just smiled at him. Charlie continued ;” hey listen, if you.. you know ever need someone to talk to. I’m here okay?” “Thanks Charlie, that means a lot.” Charlie smiled at me and got up from the ground holding his hand out for me, “Come on. We’re gonna go back to the others, they were planning on playing some boardgames tonight. Are you in?”  “Yeah I’m in,” I replied while taking his hand he pulled me up from the ground. When me and Charlie got to our friends Madison Savannah and Jadah immediately stood up and pulled me in for a hug. “Are you okay?” Madi asked. “Yeah I am now. Thanks” I replied with a smile. “So I heard we were playing games I’m in!” I said changing the subject. “Heck yeah!” Sav replied “you’re on my team Y/N! we’re playing against the boys.” “ Alright, Let’s show ‘em what we got!” I replied. And so we ended the night on a very competitive but good note.

Part 2 // Part 3

[ghostlywritten]

If Only I Had Stayed In The Shadows - Chapter Three

James Potter x OC

Words: 3,1k

Prologue  Chapter One  Chapter Two

"What's going on between you and Potter these days?" Marlene asked as we sat at breakfast together.

"Nothing?" I asked back, not missing how Lily's eyes snapped towards me.

"It's not nothing," Marlene pressed, "You've been spending an awful lot of time together."

"So? Is it that weird that a boy wants to spend time with me?"

"Um, yes." 

I gave her look at her blunt reply. "Well, it's true! You hardly ever have a boy paying so much attention to you. It's interesting." I tried to pretend that her words didn't sting. "Besides, it's Potter! He is in love with Lily."

"Well, it's not like we are being romantic in any way," I mumbled into my croissant (except for wishful thinking), "We are just friends."

"All of a sudden?"

"It just came about. What about it?" I said with an eyeroll.

"I'm just saying it's weird," Marlene muttered, "Not only has Potter started hanging around you all the time he has also stopped pursuing Lily. After all these years!" She leaned forward to whisper, "What if he is going to try asking you out from now on?" I almost choked on my coffee, coughing heavily.

"Honestly Marlene, your imagination is shocking sometimes," I said with a raspy voice. Marlene huffed, leaning back as she turned her attention back to her food, "Say what you want, I think my theory is not that off."

I just rolled my eyes. Lily stayed surprisingly quiet.

After dinner, I strolled through the halls with another bag of sweets ready in my hands as I thought over how to convince Madam Pomfrey with more than just repeatedly saying 'please'.

Knocking at the big wooden door, I opened to reveal the Hospital Wing surprisingly empty. "Wow, this must be the first time you don't have to tend to a student for once," I made myself known as I walked in leisurely, swinging the bag of sweets in my hands pointedly.

"Miss Grant, I do not have time for you. Please leave right now," Madam Pomfrey immediately cut off any attempt from my side.

"But you don't have any-"

"I'm really serious, Miss Grant," she said sternly, "I do not have the patience for your nonsense. Leave!"

I gave her an almost hurt – or rather scared – look when I noticed the curtains drawn around a bed in the far corner of the room. 'Huh, isn't so empty after all.' "Now!" I swiftly followed her orders.

Walking back towards the Common Room with a sullen glare at everyone passing by I was surprised to not see James waiting at the fireplace this time. I was even more surprised at the amount of disappointment I felt at the realisation. Sighing heavily, I plopped down on an armchair, deciding that I should wait for him for once, dropping the bag of sweets on the small table.

I stared at the fire for a long time, slowly curling myself into the soft leather as a yawn escaped me, thoughts mindlessly passing through my head and before I knew it, my eyes had drifted close.

I woke up to the feeling of something warm being draped over me, my lids fluttering back open after what felt like only a minute but was definitely longer according to the dimmed fireplace. I glanced around with drowsy eyes until a figure knelt down in front of me, revealing the one person I had been waiting for.

"Hey Grant," the messy-haired boy whispered gently.

"Hey James," I muttered back, snuggling further into the blanket, "What time is it?"

"Well past midnight," he replied, pushing a strand of hair back that had fallen over my face at my shuffling, "You drooled all over the leather."

"Did not," I denied, wiping the corner of my mouth and he chuckled quietly, "Where have you been anyway?"

"Just out and about with the lads. You know, causing trouble," he said with grin before his gaze softened, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I hadn't expected you to wait this long."

"I wouldn't have if I hadn't fallen asleep," I retorted and he smirked, "Sure." I blushed. I really would have left. At some point. For sure. Clearing my throat, I changed the topic, "Where are the others then? And what have you done this time?"

"Padfoot and Wormtail are already up…Moony, too," he added hastily and I briefly wondered why he seemed nervous when my gaze flickered over to the window.

The moon appeared from behind a cloud, a stark contrast to the black sky. It seemed to have been full last night and descending into the darkness once more; Before it would ascend into a full moon again next month...

The scales fell from my eyes. "…And for what we did, you will just have to wait and see…Grant?" James cut himself off when I sat up, wide awake.

"Of course," I whispered, finally understanding why Madam Pomfrey denied any internships since First Year.

It was because of Remus being a werewolf.

.

.

.

If I were to guess, I would say a lot of peeps in our year knew about it or at least suspected that something was off with the sandy-haired boy.

Oh, don't act so surprised, I'm not dumb. Even if I hadn't spent much time before with James or the rest of the Marauders before, we were in the same year for Merlin's sake! We had all the classes together and I had Quidditch practice with two members of the infamous group. You think it wouldn't be suspicious at some point how Remus kept getting sick every month like a lady having her period, looking like he got back from war each time like – I repeat – a lady having her period and the Marauders pampering him with chocolate the whole time?

Not to mention, how James would always give us one week off from any practice every month, which was more than out of his normal behaviour. It had brought up my suspicions in the first place around a year ago.

I confirmed it with one night in at the Hospital Wing during a full moon night, overhearing their conversation consisting of 'bad transformation' and 'Wolfsbane Potion'.

"What of course? Hello? Grant? I'm right in front of you and you are ignoring me?" James flicked my forehead.

"James," I exclaimed before I deflated slightly, wondering whether it would be a good idea to tell him I knew. He was deeply protective of his friends and hiding this kind of a secret for Remus must be huge for him.

"Yes?" he pressed, "What is it?"

"Eh…nothing," I said quickly, forcing out a huge and fake yawn, "I have to sleep. Good night!"

"Good night…," he called after me slowly as I raced upstairs, the blanket dropped on his head.

Now that I knew what held the school's matron back from taking anyone in I would surely get the internship if I told her I knew about Remus' secret already. I settled down in my bed with a giddy feeling that didn't have to do with James for once, finally having found a bright light in the dark tunnel.

My wide smile faded slightly though at the thought of the werewolf that was probably at the Hospital Wing right now. Would they ban him from school if they found out that I – and probably others – knew? I was sure, at least Lily would be aware of it being one of the smartest of our year. Not to mention she was a Prefect along with Remus.

I felt conflicted. Should I tell and risk him having to leave the school if Dumbledore deemed it too dangerous that too many knew? I could only imagine the amounts of owls flying into his office with Howler's of concerned parents voicing out their protests of a werewolf staying among their children if they were to find out, no matter how sweet of a person Remus was. I couldn't imagine the Headmaster would actually want to kick him out but I also doubted he would be able to fend off the many complaints in this case. Especially since he had kept it a secret for so many years.

Sighing heavily, I watched the bright light in the dark tunnel fade into nothingness.

The next morning came too soon and with it the pounding headache I woke up to. I refused to get out of bed for half an hour until Lily and Marlene all but dragged me off the bed with my blanket.

Trudging after the two chatting nuisances towards the Great Hall, I cheered up slightly at the prospect of food. But upon hearing the noise volume inside the big room, I wish I had just stayed in bed once again, feeling the loud clatter and talking painfully pierce into my temples. "Ughh," I growled, naturally settling down beside James as the girls sat on my other side, wary of my mood.

"What's up, Grant?" James greeted me cheerfully. I grumbled through the cinnamon roll in my mouth, "Hfsgr alfit ni dhahrt withd tjwis."

He nodded, placing a hand on my shoulder in understanding, "I'm sorry but what?"

I sighed, looking away from him only to face the sole reason I didn't manage to sleep last night, looking as bad as I felt. No, scratch that. He looked worse, a deep-set tiredness visible in his usual bright blue eyes.

"Oi. I don't bother her. My presence is a gift to her," James boasted, causing his and my friends to roll their eyes, "Right, Grant?"

Guilt swapped over me like a wave. Here I was, moody about not being able to appease my parents with an internship I wasn't even sure I wanted when Remus had probably been through a painful night... "Did James bother you again?" the sweet boy asked with quiet amusement, "Don't worry, you will get used to it." I felt ashamed at how he tried to cheer me up when it should be the other way around.

'Merlin, I would suck as a Healer. Better face that sooner than later.'

"Sure, you are the light of my life," I said indifferently, now feeling even worse than before as I looked at the chuckling boy in front of me. 'I really shouldn't complain.' Fishing out the reserved chocolate bar from my robes I handed it towards him as "prepayment for the notes of the upcoming classes".

The lessons came, saw, conquered and soon enough the sun began to set. I was going to do the routinely visit to Madam Pomfrey when I realised I wouldn't need to do that anymore. Sighing, I almost mourned the money I had spent on all the sweets for the matron and how much was still left for her. 'Meh, might as well end the tradition properly,' I thought to myself but decided to just leave the small bag at the door of the Hospital Wing, not bothering to bother her this time.

"You are back early," James announced my arrival loudly as I walked in through the portrait hole, interrupting his talk with Sirius at the fireplace, "How did it go this time?" he asked as he shooed his friend away. The black-haired heartthrob of the school muttered something under his breath before he left with a 'Night, Grant' accompanied with a cheesy smile.

"You didn't have to send him away," I pointed out as I plopped down next to him.

"It's fine, he was just pestering me," James said dismissively, "Has Pomfrey agreed this time?"

"No," I replied shortly, leaning back against the sofa.

"Don't worry, she will at some point."

"No, she won't...," I trailed off, looking away from his brown eyes, "I will stop asking."

"What? Why?" James asked surprised.

I shrugged, "I'm just tired of her saying no all the time."

"Sure, it can be tiring but you can't give up!" James exclaimed and I glanced at him, wondering why he would keep encouraging this if the future of one of his best friends could be at stake here. "Look, I can assure you it will be worth all the rejections once you get what you've always wanted."

"Ah," I hummed, understanding, "you mean Lily."

"Yes."

"But...haven't you given up?"

James blanched, "W-what?"

I raised an eyebrow, "I'm just wondering. You've stopped asking her out."

"Right...I..have given up on her," the boy said, clearing his throat. Wow. He actually said it. It was one thing assuming he would give up on his proclaimed love of the life and another to actually hear him say it.

"How come?" I inquired quietly.

James bit his lip. "I'm just tired of her saying no all the time," he repeated my words almost mechanically.

I laughed. "Then why are you telling me not to give up?"

"Because you haven't tried hard enough."

"Excuse me? Honeydukes?" I protested, indignantly.

"Yeah, yeah, it's a good start," James agreed with an eyeroll, "But you could change your tactic."

"How?"

"Help her when she needs it," he said, "You say she is always busy when you go there. Just start helping her out with small things and she might recognise what she is missing."

I pondered on his words, seeing no wrong in it. Once again, he surprised with how intelligent he could be if he wanted to.

But nonetheless- I sighed, "I will see what I can do."

"Good," James nodded, satisfied.

I looked at him pensively, "When did you realise it?"

"Hm?" he looked at me, "Realise what?"

"That you want to give up on Lily?"

"I do not want to-," he cut himself off, biting his lip, "I did not want to give up."

"But you've realised that you have tried hard enough now?" I asked and his eyes flickered away, nodding slowly.

"Yes...," he said, "I have tried enough."

I looked into the fire, leaning the side of my head against the couch and keeping silent as he sat beside me, deep in thought.

"I mean...it's been so many years," he interrupted the serene quietness around us softly and I peeked at him through the corner of my eyes, "Three years. And she hasn't budged once. Why?" he ran a hand through his hair and I noticed he always did that when he was frustrated.

"I did tell you once that you should get to know her more," I told him, "Be civil."

"I have been civil!" he said hotly, "I haven't asked her out for over a month, kept our interactions polite with nothing more than a hello and bye. Do you know how hard that was?" My eyes widened at his sudden outburst and he caught himself, biting his lip, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have...you know."

"Hey, it's all good. We're friends now, right?" I reassured him, patting his back, "You can let it all out. I'm a good secret keeper."

James looked back at me and a tiny smile graced his lips. I tried not to stare at his handsome face for too long.

"Thank you, Cecily."

"You must have kept it all in for a while now," I mused, watching him rub his eyes.

"Yeah, I guess...," he trailed off as he leant back and for once I could catch a glimpse of tiredness in his eyes that hadn't been there before. His lids fluttered close and his tense shoulders slackened. My breath got caught in my throat when I noticed he was starting to relax around me, his guard down when I hadn't even realised it was up.

What it revealed would be something I wouldn't have ever thought about him: a small, vulnerable boy, his heart hurting just as much as anyone else's, who would get rejected by their crush. Probably more so since he would hear it multiple times a day. If any boy I had ever dared to ask out - which wouldn't ever happen because I'm not that much of a Gryffindor - and he would say no to me, I would probably crawl into my bed with a bag of sweets from Honeydukes for at least two weeks. Or until the bag was empty.

I slapped my hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump with a yelp, "What the hell, woman?"

"You are not going to give up, James Potter," I announced gravely, "If you want Lily to become your girlfriend then you are going to do more than try hard enough."

"I have-"

"I'm talking about more than being civil or throwing fireworks around people's eyebrows."

James rolled his eyes, "I told you it wasn't on purpose! Padfoot is lying!"

"Whatever," I dismissed him before turning sirius, "You can feel down about it. But you shouldn't ever give up on something you truly want." James sighed heavily. "You have to at least know that you've really tried everything. And I mean, everything. All is fair in Love and War."

The messy-haired boy stared at me, his glasses shining slightly from the flickering light of the fire that also started reflecting in his eyes, slowly but steadily, "You're right. I won't give up."

"Good," I nodded satisfied.

"As long as you don't, either."

"Hm?"

"You are not going to give up on that internship," James stated, solemnly holding up his little finger, "Pinky promise." Looking from his serious face to his pinky finger, I couldn't help burst, my laughter echoing through the empty Common Room. "OI! Don't laugh at me!" James huffed, still holding his hand up, "This is important."

"I know," I said through my giggles, "It just looked funny to me."

"Oh, I look funny to you?" James said, amusement glinting in his eyes before he suddenly reached for my waist, fast as the Seeker he was, and I protested loudly when he started tickling me, "I will show you funny!"

"James! Stop! No!" I yelped, laughing involuntarily as he kept his tirade up until I was left breathless with laughter, "Please, stop!"

"Alright, alright," James chuckled, his face beaming at my own flushed one as I tried to catch my breath, accutely aware of how close he still was to me. His smile faded slightly as we stared at each other. "Now let's try again," he said more quietly, holding up his pinky once more. I giggled slightly but hooked my own around his, feeling slightly bad that I was going to give him an empty promise. "We won't give up. And whoever does, owes the other one wish." Gulping slightly, I nodded in agreement, wondering what he would wish for since I had already given up.

And I knew he never would.

Chapter Four