#sid was clearly getting more and more uncomfortable

[innocencel0st]

I am up at 8AM on Christmas and the first thing I think about is how in the fountain scene when Randy was talking about the liver in the mailbox, Tatum throws food at him and tells him she's eating.

But when Stu was explaining how to gut someone, Tatum didn't bat an eye and was ACTIVELY PUTTING FOOD IN HER MOUTH WHILE HE WAS TALKING.

I'm telling y'all, she had it in her. If she could've gotten her hands on a weapon in the garage, that whole thing would've ended A LOT differently.

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

i couldn't stand you - m. bunting

summary: (slow burn enemies to frenemies to friends etc / f!reader x mb) three years: arguments, truces, break-ups, moving houses...michael bunting wasn't nearly as irritating as you'd initially expected.

warnings: swearing, consumption of alcohol, reader is a pens fan, scenes with eating involved, reader is a chef, I PROMISE THE WRITING GETS BETTER THE MORE YOU READ (toronto to carolina sequence my fave <3), sid being an obliviously adorable cockblocker, angst/pining, fluff, the ending is so unfinished and doesn't do the 20k justice at all...(i lost inspiration)(but i might edit it in the future/do an alternate ending)

a/n: i got inspiration from this from that tom welling hug in cheaper by the dozen

In all honesty, you hadn’t really been paying much attention to Ellis, which kind of defeated the entire purpose of even stepping into the bar. Taylor had wanted you to meet her new boyfriend, and it had barely taken all of five minutes of being in his presence to deduce that he was not only a nice guy, but clearly liked her a lot, was funny, the whole works, etc, etc. Only, your attention had been (completely against your will) stolen by the…idiot sitting next to you.

You didn’t really know what else to call him. An impatient dick? That was also fitting. A bad driver? There wasn’t a 100% certainty in that statement, but it felt fitting given the incident from earlier that morning.

Nevertheless, when you’d clocked each other, the only empty space being that on the bench right next to him, there was no doubt he recognised you too. He’d rolled his eyes and scoffed into his beer, and you’d sat down rather aggressively and dropped your bag on the floor, downright refusing to look at him.

Hence, the intervening from Ellis, with his polite smile and countenance, a complete contrast to aforementioned impatient dick sitting on your left. Taylor had raised a brow, a silent question on her face but you’d simply shaken your head and accepted the cocktail she’d already ordered with a grateful smile.

“I’m confused.” Ellis muttered, leaning his head on one hand, eyes darting confusedly between you and Michael Bunting, Maple Leafs player apparently, “Do you two know each other?”

You shook your head, sipping your cocktail. Judging from the silence next to you, Micheal had done the same thing, neither of you too eager to explain anything. It wouldn’t have been a big deal. In fact, if the subject hadn't been poked and prodded further, you’d have probably been fine with it, maybe even accepted the fact that you were going to have to spend however many hours with him for the sake of your friends. 

Who knew? Maybe you’d have eventually gotten past this pre-established dislike for one another, but Taylor was never really one for ignoring gossip when it was sitting in front of her – a trait that you rather found entertaining until you were the victim.

“What, so it’s dislike at first sight, or something?” She asked, eyeing the two of you with more intrigue than you were comfortable with.

In fact, her eyes seemed to shimmer like a greedy shark when you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, briefly glancing at the man on your left.

He was rolling his eyes. And you didn’t care to even guess if it was at you or if it was at Taylor, but with the morning you’d had – because of him – you turned back to her with more conviction this time.

“Pretty much, yeah.” You shrugged.

Taylor scoffed in disbelief, sharing a look with Ellis, “Why?”

“Because she’s a shit driver.” 

You gaped, head snapping to Michael with appal. He was frowning in a way that just exuded arrogance. He actually thought he was right – the nerve.

“I am not–”

“Oh, yes you are.”

“The traffic in front of me was at a complete standstill, what was I supposed to do–”

“They were moving–”

“Oh, please. You were just in a rush because someone clearly forgot to set an alarm this morning–”

“I was not in a rush–”

“Then what was the reason for honking at me?”

“You flipped me a birdie!”

“You honked for no reason – who even does that?”

“You flipped me a fucking birdie!”

“After you honked!”

“You were too slow, you weren’t even looking at the road.”

“Yeah, because God forbid I skip a song in a traffic jam.”

He scowled, but said nothing else, sharing a rather irritated glance with Ellis across from him.

You, however, were a little different: sure, your jaw was ticking, your pulse was higher than usual from his stress-inducing attitude, but the first thing you did was share a wide-eyed glance with Taylor, whose jaw had dropped. You rarely fought with people, let alone in public spaces. In fact, the last time you’d bickered like that was when you and Taylor were little and arguing over who got to marry which celebrity from the magazine in make-believe play – but that was exactly all it had been: make-believe.

This was real life, and when you argue like that in real life, people tend to stare. You could feel strangers’ eyes boring into the side of your face and your cheeks flamed against your will. Add that onto the fact that Ellis – who you’d never met before, and were intent on setting a good first impression – had just witnessed you argue with his best friend? You were nothing short of mortified.

“Right.” Ellis sighed, scratching the back of his head, and all three pairs of remaining eyes sitting at the table zipped to him for some form of guidance as to what to do next, “So, now that everyone’s introduced…another round?”

There were muted expressions of agreements, and even just looking at Taylor, you could tell that she was about to slip out and join Ellis at the bar, even after your pleading.

You watched her go sadly, your hands tucked under your thighs, trying desperately to ignore the other presence. You weren’t sure how you’d feel even looking at him – didn’t know if you could. Not only for the embarrassment, but for the sheer…eugh of having to look at him.

Blue eyes, brown hair – not too dark. Apart from that, your mind was drawing a blank.

He cleared his throat. You ignored it.

“What’re your first thoughts on Ellis for Taylor, then?” He mumbled, half-heartedly trying to engage in conversation, and it was because you knew he was only doing it to try and ease some of the tension for Ellis that you turned to face him.

The flare of irritation that presented itself felt like an allergic reaction to simply looking at him, but you swallowed, trying to paste on a nonchalant expression. You could do this. You just had to stare at the blank spot on the wood just a little bit off from his face.

Only, he seemed to take your lack of expression and interest as something else, because he tilted his head towards you fractionally, a rather condescending look on his face. 

“Your instincts?” 

Instincts? You had instincts – not necessarily about Ellis and what it was Michael was asking about, but you had them. And maybe it was the patronising glare, maybe it was the day’s frustration, maybe you were just tired and needed someone to take it out on, but you ignored his context for the question.

“My instincts?” You repeated, and he nodded, eyes squinting slightly, “That you’re full of shit.”

***

Usually you’d have no issue avoiding Michael when both of your presences were dubbed mandatory to these kinds of things: there was space, there were people – no reason to talk or even look in each other’s directions.

Only, this time, Ellis’s birthday party, somehow the invitation had been extended to you and the get-together was small. Intimate. Maybe seven people in total, not including Ellis himself. And because Ellis was Ellis, a party meant drunk games – and if not drunk, certainly alcohol-induced.

And to your bitter astonishment, the only two people left without split-second partners for a rough game of charades was…you and Michael. In theory, it shouldn’t have been much of a shock: it was inevitable for Ellis and Taylor to pair up together, and you were Taylor’s plus one (even though Ellis had told you himself he wanted you there), and it had become increasingly obvious throughout the evening that Michael didn’t know anyone but Ellis and Taylor; everyone else seemed to have gone to school together and jumped into pairs pretty quickly.

Needless to say, when you’d looked around the room and locked eyes with an equally disgruntled Michael, the two of you hadn’t broken eye contact as you’d downed whatever was remaining in your glasses and immediately reached for a refill.

Yet, for all your displeasure in the pairing, there was an odd satisfaction in knowing that you’d both absolutely thrashed the living daylights out of everyone else. It scratched a competitive itch inside of you, and against your will, you felt yourself softening up to him. His grin had become less irritatingly smug when he was directing it at you after a speedy guess, and his failure to hide his equally competitive edge through the half-smirks directed at his lap when other couples failed were more endearing than grating.

(You just blamed the alcohol.)

Although, probably just as shocking as that turn of events, Taylor and Ellis were awful at charades. They’d gotten one word right in the allotted time, and although they’d tried to hide it, no one was completely ignorant to their harsh whisperings to each other and pointed gestures. Or the confused glances they seemed to direct straight towards you and Michael, who, unlike everyone else, were sitting side by side on the carpet, a sizable distance between each other and managing to neither look or speak apart from when it was your turn.

It was remarkable, really, that two strangers could guess each other’s frantic motions easier than people who knew each other in arguably the most intimate ways. It felt like a test of compatibility, and Ellis and Taylor knew they were failing – hence, in your head, said compatibility test was clearly false. Michael was living, breathing proof of that.

“And Team We Don’t Care Just Pick Whatever wins.” Taylor announced, glancing direly at the small scrap of paper that she’d been documenting the scores on, “Ten points clear from the runners-up.”

You raised your brows, sighing despondently at your glass because you weren’t quite sure you could look Taylor in the eye without feeling some form of inexplicable guilt. You, however, wanted to savour this moment of triumph.

And what better way to celebrate than to pour yourself another glass?

The kitchen was quiet, dirty dishes stacked near and in the sink, along with a plethora of glasses and bottles from where people had decided to mix their drinks. It was quieter and cooler, too: a place to rest and breathe for a second. Only, as soon as the first sip touched your mouth, you had to stifle a yawn, your eyes suddenly dry and heavy. 

Half past twelve.

“You leavin’?” 

You turned your head to see Michael standing in the doorway, clearly having just come back from the bathroom and with a rather blank look on his face. At your attention, however, he seemed to force his mouth into a slither of a smile, looking mightily uncomfortable under your gaze.

His eyes quickly dropped, momentarily drifting to your glass, a little hesitantly.

“Might do. You?”

You almost wanted to wince at the awkwardness emanating in the atmosphere. It must be the first time you’d ever willingly engaged in a conversation with each other – let alone by yourselves. The silence in the room seemed to intensify that realisation that there was no Taylor or Ellis to act as a buffer, but Michael looked remarkably calm and unbothered by that knowledge. In fact, at your question he raised his brows as though shocked you’d reciprocated the conversation and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired.”

There was nothing particularly to say to that, so you just nodded, standing by the counter. He looked as if he wanted to say something: his hands were tapping against his jean-clad thighs and he kept glancing at you and then away, something playing on his features.

“You okay?” You found yourself asking, much to his surprise.

“Yeah, I just…” He stepped closer, throwing a careful glance back towards the open door, “Has Taylor talked to you about me?”

You blinked, tilting your head.

She had, many times on many different occasions and with a variety of different tones. Just off the top of your head you could list that time you’d gone over to hers for a movie night and she’d softly suggested that you try to get along with him; that one time she’d caught you pulling a rather put-off facial expression after he’d said something questionable; that one time she must have been a second away from grabbing you by the shoulders; eventually she’d given up, but that was after the basketball incident when you’d thrown the ball a little too harshly at him and winded him in the park. 

The ignoring each other thing worked – so why did you find yourself beginning to tolerate his presence? After all this time, surely, nothing would change so suddenly?

“Yeah.” You admitted, rather guiltily. In your defence, you’d tried to get along with him, but there was something about your personalities that clashed in the wrongest of ways. Both Taylor and Ellis had openly observed the two of you were pretty similar (you were a little offended by that statement) and would probably get along if you both put your pride aside, “Has Ellis…” You trailed off, watching him carefully.

He nodded, “Oh, yeah. He’s made a few bold statements about it, I’ll say that.” He huffed a bitter laugh, “But I was thinking–”

You pulled a face and he looked about ready to stop talking altogether, until he sighed, “Maybe we should just call a truce, or something? A fresh start, if not for us, for them. They seem pretty stable and if they’re for the long-term, then I think it’d be easier if we just agreed to get along, or at least pretend.”

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was because tonight you’d found him a lot more tolerable than you usually would, but you nodded. And to that, he just blinked.

“Really?” He asked, almost recoiling in reaction.

“Yeah.” You shrugged, “Under one condition though.”

His face dropped – the almost triumphant smile that he’d nearly allowed himself to display had vanished completely in replacement for something harsher, more annoyed. His jaw had clenched and the hand he’d placed on the counter seemed to tap with more aggravation as he rolled his eyes in resignation, “And what would that be?” He asked, sounding rather like he already had an idea as to what it was.

“Just admit I’m not a bad driver.” You reasoned.

“Oh, I thought you were gonna…Nevermind.” He shook his head, holding his hand out for you to shake, “You’re not a bad driver.”

“Thanks.” Then, “Are you Michael or do you have any nicknames instead?”

There was a brief pause, and he looked at you like you were an alien, “Why?”

“I don’t know, Michael – you don’t look like a ‘Michael’, that’s all.”

“And what does a ‘Michael’ look like?”

“Probably twenty-thirty years older, balding–”

“Wow.”

“Is that a no?”

He seemed to think about it for a moment, “Purely because you don’t like it, no, I don’t have any nicknames. I’d rather you called me Michael.”

“Nice one. But when we’re in a public space and I yell your name, there’s gonna be at least three older, balding guys turning to look at me–”

“You’re hilarious.”

“Well, one of us has to be.”

Neither of you seemed to remember you were still holding hands.

***

One thing you never thought you’d be doing in your near future, was packing all of your makeup and three outfit choices and driving to Ellis’s place to have a conversation with Taylor. To be honest, there was a small part of you that was a little bit aggravated that to talk to your best friend you had to drive twenty minutes and risk missing packing something for the date you needed help with, especially seeing as though said date was in forty-five minutes.

Although, you did have time to reason with yourself in the car, the usual stuff: she could have just said no to helping you when you called her in a frustrated panic; the last-minute pep talk was probably going to make up for any residual irritation; on the bright side, though, at least Ellis’s apartment was closer to the date location than your own. 

You knew you’d feel better once you got there – only…

“You have got to be kidding me.” You breathed a solemn laugh, head lolling backwards and cheeks flaming at the sight before you.

Michael Bunting standing in the doorway with a wicked grin on his face, each pore practically oozing mirth at your current situation, eating an apple. And sure, you’d agreed to get along for the sake of your friends, but you had no idea that would mean him being privy to your moments – nor did it mean you were particularly pleased to see him at such a dire time.

“Hello, sweetheart. Heard you were stuck?” He tilted his head, pouting in your direction, and you didn’t miss the way his attention zipped curiously to the backpack over your shoulder and the garment bags slung over your arm.

“Do you really not have anything better to do on a Friday night other than third-wheel your best friend and his girlfriend?” You asked, smiling flatly and walking through the door when he opened it further.

He shook his head, crunching a bite, and you stood in the hallway, patience ticking away by the second as you waited for him to finish eating to speak. There were voices drifting down the corridor, and you turned your head to see shadows and flickers of light in the other room, Taylor clearly on her way – thank fuck.

“I have a game tomorrow, gotta have a tame night.” He muttered, reaching out a hand to touch the soft plastic covering of your garment bag, “And I’ll tell you one thing, I am so glad I get to witness this.”

You pulled a face, “Ha ha.”

“I can already tell you’re gonna make my fucking night, so I’m gonna just thank you in advance–”

“Hey, stop psyching her out.” Taylor appeared, a crease between her brows that clearly hadn’t materialised at his words alone, and for a split-second, you and Michael shared a worried glance, any previous teasing evaporating along with it.

He nodded easily, holding his hands up in surrender and disappearing into the living room, his footsteps slow and leisurely as though he was hoping to overhear a snippet more, but before you could even spit out a greeting of your own, Taylor had dragged you into Ellis’s bedroom and locked the door – the man himself nowhere to be seen.

“Is everything okay?”

Taylor spun on her heel, flashing you an urgent glance, apparently brushing off your question of concern, “I should be asking you that.”

“Oh, I’m fine–”

She shot you a look of disbelief.

“Just nervous, I guess. And I can’t decide what to wear, so I brought some stuff.”

In the other room, Michael was sitting on the sofa, apple half-eaten and trying to ignore the rather violent knee shaking Ellis was doing by tuning into the faint sound of voices from the bedroom that could still be heard over the TV. He knew he should probably be focused on his best friend – who was anything but subtle in trying to convey the fact that he was clearly irked by something – but he also knew that Ellis would talk when Ellis wanted to talk.

He was also kind of curious as to what had gotten you in such a pickle: he knew you were about to go on a date (first, he assumed), but why the sudden panic? You’d turned up armed with a Hannah Montana-type level of hair, costumes and makeup stuff and he’d just eyed it all a little bit confused. 

He was very aware of the fact that you were pretty – he’d seen you with the barest amount of makeup on (he assumed, he actually had no idea if you did) and in a pair of sweats, and his opinion hadn’t changed, so why all the makeup? Surely, if someone was to like you in that sense you shouldn’t have to dress up and put loads of makeup on?

He wasn’t too sure, really. His extent of first dates was restricted to his high school experience and he’d only been on a few since. 

“Why the panic?” He found himself asking aloud, turning to Ellis like he’d hold the answers in the universe. 

Ellis, however, turned to face him, a scowl already on his face, and it didn’t take a genius to gather that he wasn’t going to get much out of him with the mood he was in.

“What?”

“The girls.”

Ellis shrugged, turning his attention back to the TV, “Why would I know?”

Michael pressed his lips together tightly, trying to ignore the answers popping up in his head. Why wouldn’t Ellis know? He’d been talking to Taylor when you texted so if anything it’d be weird for Ellis to not know what was going on.

In fact, the longer he spent in Ellis’s presence, the more uncomfortable Michael felt. He shifted in his seat, the tense and awkward atmosphere feeling oddly claustrophobic and he felt the sudden desire to get out of the room, even if it was to fake a visit to the kitchen or something. 

He pushed himself off the sofa, the apple core in his hand sticky and by the time he’d stood in there and looked out of the window, washed his hands and decided he was going to leave anyway, there was a voice in the hallway.

“-look stunning, I promise.”

There seemed to be a muttered reply, but before he could make his way towards the door and announce his departure, there was a call of his name.

“Bunting–”

“No, don’t.”

He looked right down the hallway, Taylor leaning against the wall. Taylor wasn’t tall by any means, so he could easily see you behind her. You were clearly uncomfortable with something, unable to look at him or any living thing, your eyes instead fixated on the plants on the table next to the door. 

He had to remind himself to breathe when you rolled your eyes at Taylor and walked around her, your head down and pointedly trying not to make eye contact with him as you walked to the door to put on your shoes.

You were wearing a long black dress, not too long that you could ever trip over the hem, but long enough to accentuate the sheer length of your legs, and now he was close enough he could make out the little clusters of purple flowers embroidered onto the material. 

He couldn’t really get his mind to focus on anything other than ‘wow, that dress fits nicely’; it accentuates your curves perfectly and…he needed to breathe. He cleared his throat awkwardly, wondering when it had suddenly become so dry and ripped his eyes away to blink at Taylor.

He couldn’t read her face, but he didn’t like the look on it.

“Yeah?” He asked, unable to help glancing back at you. 

You looked…wow. 

“Does she look nice?” 

“Taylor–”

“You look really nice.” He blurted, his hands stuck in his pockets. When both of you turned to stare at him, apparently speechless, he felt his cheeks redden and his eyes drifted to the doorframe, a little mortified because you clearly hadn’t wanted him to say anything, but also because he’d said it embarrassingly fast and added a ‘really’ in there. And said it like he had a gun pointed to his head, which was one hell of a contradiction.

“Thanks.” You said, not having moved much. 

He just nodded, wanting nothing more than to melt into a puddle on the floor and soak through the floorboards and pretend this moment never occurred.

He wasn’t supposed to like you, he pretty much swore that from the start. But he had a niggling feeling you were wearing him down somehow. He didn’t know what it was, but lately he’d been finding himself sneaking a smile at some of the stuff you said and did. Like you were actually getting along.

And maybe it was because he wanted to test that unspoken theory out – to see if maybe you could be friends – but as he left he waited in the doorway for Taylor to finish talking. He had a sneaking suspicion, though, that Taylor was only talking for herself. The look on your face: he knew you were grateful for what she was saying, but there was something akin to impatience on your face if he looked hard enough.

And it was that, and the fact that the fake smile you’d plastered on your face was slowly slipping with every second that passed and every glance at the time on your phone, that he found himself stepping a little closer, whipping his keys around on his finger, “Hey, are you okay for a lift?”

Taylor shut up and looked to you for confirmation.

There was a pause and he almost regretted asking it–

“Are you offering?” Your voice was different to how it usually sounded when you were speaking to him; softer, perhaps a little more vulnerable.

And when he looked at you, he wasn’t quite sure what it was but it felt different. His stomach sort of dropped and he…lost his train of thought.

Still, he managed, “Yeah. I can drop y’off on my way home, it’s no problem.”

“You’re leaving already?” Taylor asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired.” He didn’t really want to say that he didn’t feel like he was welcome at this particular moment in time, not with Ellis clearly in a mood, but he did feel a stab of guilt when he thought about leaving Taylor to deal with it by herself, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” She brushed it off, taking a step back and glancing between you and him with an odd glint in her eye, “I’ll let you go. Have fun.”

There were a few hushed mutters as he stepped out of the apartment, waiting by the elevator for you to join him, and almost as soon as you shut the door behind you, you sighed.

He still didn’t say anything, and instead turned to watch the numbers tick up to the floor, before an audible ding sounded and the doors shuddered open. He let you go first. And if he thought the tension back with Ellis was bad, this was a whole other level, because he swore he could hear the cogs of your mind working on overdrive – about the date or about his uncharacteristic behaviour, he couldn’t possibly guess, but it was driving him crazy.

“You good?”

“Hmm?” You looked at him, shocked at his words, and he’d never seen you this frazzled before, “Oh, yeah. Just nervous, I guess.”

He swallowed, uncertain. He wanted to say something to make you feel better – heck, he had it lined up in his head to just blurt out, but the only thing stopping him was that it might make it weirder, and you’d already been bombarded by that kind of thing from Taylor. And then he thought of you on your date and–

“If you tell yourself that the nerves are actually just excitement, I find it usually eases some of the, y’know, nerves.” He stuttered, glad the doors opened once more.

“Thanks. Also, thanks for offering to drive me here, you really didn’t have to.” You murmured, and he found himself shaking his head.

“You don’t have to thank me, it really wasn’t any trouble.”

“Do you get nervous before your games?”

The question startled him to such an extent that he almost tripped over the rug in the entryway, but his sneakers squeaked against the floor and he felt his body jolt a little. 

Was he actually losing it or was this considered a civil conversation? You weren’t at his throat with some quick witted jab, and you weren’t looking at him like you wanted to wring his neck.

It was weirdly refreshing.

“Sometimes.” He admitted, holding the door open to the car park, “It’s usually hit and miss though, it depends on who we’re playing. The car’s this way.” He pointed to the other side of the garage at your hesitation.

And it wasn’t until you’d buckled yourself in and he’d turned the engine on that either of you spoke again.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

He breathed a bitter laugh, “I’m usually nice to people, y’know, I’m not a–”

“Dick?”

“Yeah.” He shot you a look, “You test my patience, though. You bring out the worst of me.”

You seemed to ease up a little at his confession, managing a small smile, “Likewise.”

“I just…” he trailed off, pulling a face before momentarily losing his train of thought as he pulled out into traffic, “There’s a time and a place for that kind of thing. And I could tell Taylor was starting to grind your gears, so…”

You hummed, “Yeah. She’s great but sometimes she, like, I don’t think she knows me as well as she thinks she does. Sometimes I just need quiet.”

So, he thought, that’s what he’ll give you.

***

Unknown Number: SOS

Unknown Number: HELP

Unknown Number: PLEASE HURRY

You: Who is this?

Unknown Number: Michael Bunting

You could hear the yelling and the dumping of objects into a hollow box even through the door, and it was both the noise and the frantic messages that were still pinging through your phone that had you instantly pushing it open. If you hadn’t had some semblance of a warning from the messages, you’d have probably assumed the entire place had been ransacked by burglars: drawers had been turned upside down with the contents littered across floors in an attempt to find their individual belongings; there were cardboard boxes piled and stacked, stuff sticking up – and, more importantly you guessed, both co-habitants standing in the middle of the living room, yelling about something or other with a stricken Michael Bunting awkwardly holding a TV remote and waiting by the door like a kid.

It was clear from his face that he had no idea what to do. And despite the situation, you were able to find some amusement in that.

Although…

“What’s Taylor doing here?” You asked, the both of you still loitering in the doorway, watching your friends rip each other up like it was usual Saturday soap.

He shrugged, and you felt the heat of his stare burn the side of your cheek until you couldn’t take the silence. His cheeks were pink and he looked to be stuttering.

“What?” 

He winced, “I kind of walked in this morning and she was in the kitchen.” 

You blinked, your attention switching back to the arguing couple. Ellis had a cushion in his hand and they were both insisting it was theirs, only when you looked closer, you noticed Taylor’s bare feet and the Blue Jays t-shirt she was wearing, and you turned, shocked and disturbed, to Michael.

“When you said this morning…”

“Yeah?” He was refusing to look at you properly now, and that little seed of disbelief that had planted itself in your brain seemed to bloom, and a pebble of stress dropped in your stomach. His cheeks were still a bit pink, but it was hidden by a thicker wad of stubble than when you’d last seen each other.

“What time was that?” You continued, watching the delicate lines near his eyes appear when he pulled another face, almost confirming your thoughts with just a look.

“Nine.”

You nodded, “Right. And was she, y’know, dressed?”

His eyes closed briefly, a whisper of mortification barely heard over the yelling – but with the two of you standing shoulder to shoulder sharing a doorway it wasn’t missed, “Barely.”

You huffed a small laugh at his expense because he clearly hadn’t been prepared for his best friend’s now ex-girlfriend to be in the kitchen wearing next to nothing that early in the morning, and at the sound he sent you an offended glance.

“Sorry.” You apologised, turning to watch the spectacle with a barely-there smile that became increasingly difficult to hide the longer you felt him stare accusingly in your direction – if anything his undying attention only amplified the hilarity of his earlier memory and you had to lean your forehead against the wood of the doorframe and turn your back to him to block the image from your mind entirely.

“Listen, she’s pretty and everything, but…it’s weird for me.” He mumbled, folding his arms.

“Was it your first time seeing a half-naked woman?” 

He rolled his eyes, “You’re hilarious – shut up, don’t even say it. You know why it’s weird. It’d be weird if you walked in and it was Ellis with, like, a bowl of cereal covering his crotch.”

You wrinkled your nose, frowning, “I didn’t need that image, but point taken.”

You turned your attention to the bickering couple in front of you, now waving a fly swatter. In truth, you weren’t really sure why you were here or why Michael was here. Taylor had asked you to come with her when she’d made her so-called ‘appointment’ to pick up her stuff from Ellis’s place, but looking at them now she didn’t really need the help, or moral support. And neither did Ellis.

In fact, they were standing in front of each other arguing, and it was probably the least stressed you’d seen Taylor in weeks. Sure, their voices were raised, but there wasn’t anything malicious being said or anything physical going on. They were simply picking up objects and having a loud debate over whose it was, and it was that arguing combined with the obvious ‘last time together’ thing that made you think maybe this was more for closure for each other than anything else.

Even from Taylor’s point of view, she wasn’t quite sure what had happened, but she’d said it felt like everything between them had just gradually fizzled out for no apparent reason. It was odd, really: they’d seemed like such a good fit at the start and now, even like last week, they’d be in the same room and have more interest in talking to either you or Michael than showing interest in each other.

And it was that that had you turning to the man next to you, something plucking at your heart strings. It felt an awful lot like the dread you’d felt earlier, except it was laced with something heavier. Like knowing you’d never see your childhood pet again.

“Are they still broken up?” You found yourself asking, wanting him to turn his attention away from the scenes in front of you both.

He blinked once more before turning his head to look at you, about to say something on the tip of his tongue but clearly changing his mind at what he saw on your face. He tilted his head, eyes zipping from each of yours – back and forth – before his mouth curved up slightly at the edges, his expression taking an odd turn.

“What?” You asked, paranoid at the way he was looking at you.

His grin broadened, and he tilted his head adorably, “Nothing. But, yeah, they’re still broken up.”

You nodded, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. There was something rising in your chest, a tightness edged with panic, like you were aware time was clearly running out for something but your head wasn’t quite sure what.

“We’re still gonna be friends, right?” 

For a brief moment, you didn’t know what to do. Your pulse seemed to kick against your sternum and that tightness in your chest eased, an inexplicable reaction that you couldn’t quite get ahold of its meaning.

“Us?” You looked at him, and where he previously had a smile on his face, it was now replaced with a kind of cautious curiosity: his mouth was pulled tightly and there was a slight, very slight crease between his brows that deepened when you spoke again.

His eyes briefly skitted to your right before returning to meet yours, “Yeah?” He said, but with the way his voice ticked up at the end it almost sounded like he wasn’t too sure himself.

And you were so shocked at the words falling out of his mouth that you could only blink and stare, “I’m your friend?”

You supposed it wasn’t too shocking: after the initial agreement it had taken a while to warm up to each other, but you’d eventually gotten to the point where you’d managed to unintentionally create some inside jokes, and, sure, you’d still bicker like children from time to time, but the teasing was less malicious and more fond, like you’d known each other for a while.

And it was in that moment that you realised that tightness in your chest was because you just assumed that, like Taylor would lose Ellis, you would lose Michael. 

His eyes narrowed uncomfortably, and you could tell he'd gone a little defensive at your questions, probably assuming his own assumptions weren’t exactly reciprocated, “Yes.” He said, a little forcefully, “Aren’t I your friend?”

You nodded, awkwardly scratching your cheek, “I just assumed you only spent time with me because of Ellis and Taylor–”

“Nah.”

You nodded slowly, a small smile creeping onto your face, “Oh.”

He paused for a beat, watching you carefully, “Is that a no, then?”

“No, it’s a yes.”

“Good.” He grinned.

***

He was next to you one second and the next he’d just disappeared completely. It was the strangest thing. 

It wasn’t like he was particularly easy to lose in a  crowd, either, not with those shoulders and – well, actually, he was quite small so in hindsight, it was pretty easy to lose him in a crowd, especially when he was just another suit-clad man with a fairly recent haircut and shave.

You sighed in defeat, sitting back in your chair at the table surrounded by strangers that weren’t all that interested in your presence. You’d checked your phone at least five times within the past three minutes, expecting a quick text for an explanation and you hadn’t really been able to stop looking at the bar, helplessly expecting his face to materialise in thin air.

It was pretty shitty what he’d done: he’d all but begged you to come with him to one of his friend’s weddings and after you’d had to rearrange plans just so you could agree (he’d been so desperate he’d actually offered you a thousand dollars to go with him), yet the second you both enter the reception location, he dips? 

“Excuse me, hi–”

You snapped your neck towards the unfamiliar voice, heart pounding like a jackhammer in your chest at the unexpected intrusion, and managed a polite, albeit confused, smile as you found yourself faced with a pretty raven-haired woman. You’d never seen her before, but with the way she was looking at you, you were almost forced to second guess yourself.

“Oh, hi.” You replied, brain spinning and throwing out names, but your face clearly contorting into one of utter bewilderment, much to her amusement.

She chuckled, “Sorry, you don’t know me.” She said, slightly oddly, and you tilted your head, connecting the dots from what she hadn’t said.

“But you know me?” You asked, and she shrugged, her cheeks colouring slightly.

“Not exactly, but I saw you come in with Michael–”

“Oh.”

She cringed, “Yeah. I am really sorry for approaching you like this, but I was just wondering if he was okay?”

You just blinked.

“You know,” she continued, clearly sensing your confusion, “because of our breakup?”

Oh fuck.

You tried to hide the shock from your face – as though this wasn’t new news to you – but try as you might, you felt your brows rise a little and your heart rate quicken. He’d never mentioned anything like that to you. In fact, you guys rarely ever talked about relationships, even despite you currently being in one (though it probably wasn’t going to last with the way it had been going recently), so you just assumed he hadn’t been in one.

Nevertheless, you nodded, “He’s fine.”

She eased after that, smiling in relief, but still hung around as though you were supposed to say something else, but in all honesty you weren’t sure what to say. You didn’t know if he was okay, not if he’d seen her and bolted; you didn’t know when it was that they’d broken up, and you didn’t know how much he’d want you to say.

So you sat in the chair, smiling awkwardly – probably appearing pretty rude – and just sighed.

“I’m sorry, I can’t say–”

“It’s fine, I understand.” She replied, smiling tightly, “Enjoy the night.” 

You watched her walk away, and as soon as she disappeared through another set of doors, you picked up your phone and started to wind your way through the crowds to at least guess where he could have gone. There were little booths and food carts off around the edge of the room, along with some photo booths and drinks stands – it wasn’t until you reached the photo booth right near the entrance that you stopped for the first time.

There wasn’t a queue to this one, but there was a strip of photos in the hatch and a pair of freshly shined shoes under the curtain. You paused, taking a peak at the photos.

It was him, alright. Four photos: one of him in a ginger wig, one with a pair of huge glasses on, one with a moustache on a stick and the final one with all of them combined. If it had been any other time you supposed you’d have laughed, but all the photos did was fuel your desire to get the curtain open.

All he did was raise his brows at your appearance and shuffle over on the bench, tucking himself in against the wall with a defeated, unsurprised smile. You passed him the photo strip and he breathed a short, mirthless laugh before tucking it in his pocket and turning to you, an almost embarrassed look on his face.

“Sorry for ditching you.” He mumbled, looking genuinely guilty.

You shook your head, a pang of adoration shooting through your system for the man in front of you. You didn’t quite know where it suddenly came from or why it occurred, but you did know that it meant he was precious to you in a way you hadn’t even realised. You guys weren’t exactly close – there were obviously things you didn’t talk about (as evidenced), but you cared about him. Wanted him to be happy. 

Wanted to wipe that forlorn expression off his face because he was clearly beating himself up about leaving you but still a little caught off guard by…

“You don’t have to apologise.” You smiled reassuringly, before asking, “What’s her name?”

His brows raised, and he tutted as he pulled an uncomfortable face. Whether it was because he hadn’t expected the question or because he was stealing himself, you weren’t at liberty to say, “Jess.” He managed, eyes zeroing in on some lint on the floor by his feet.

You just nodded. If he wanted to talk about it, you knew he would – he wasn’t exactly an open book when you prodded him, but you were all ears regardless. 

“We were in a serious relationship for three and a half years before we broke up. That was a week before I met you. I wasn’t really coping well so Ellis dragged me out to that bar. I’m okay now, though. I still get a bit sad about it but I think I’m more sad for the me I was when we were dating than the me now, if that makes sense.” He spoke to his shoes, his arms crossed against his chest, as though to spit the words out and force himself to talk about it, that also meant he couldn’t face you, “I had a feeling she was gonna be here tonight, it was actually why I invited you, but the second I saw her, I don’t know, I just walked away. And the weird thing is that I don’t know why I walked away, because when I saw her I felt nothing. Maybe I walked away because I feel like I should have felt something, like walking away from her was something that was expected of me.” He sighed, swinging his head towards you, his eyes momentarily dropping to the necklace that sat comfortably against your sternum before darting back up to your face, “I’m just a bit confused.” He admitted.

You reciprocated his wry, self-deprecating smile, patting him on the arm fondly, “Me too; I actually thought you wanted to spend time with me–”

“Shut the fuck up.” He breathed a laugh, shaking his head. 

That despondent expression had gone, the tension practically drained from the lines of his face, and you rejoiced at the smile now there – a real one, not one put on for the sake of it.

You took a breath, and whether he could sense that you were about to say something potentially cheesy, or something that neither of you would really say or do, his smile dropped, but only slightly. His eyes were focused on you, and you almost wanted to shrink back under his gaze – you two were sitting pretty tightly together: this photo booth bench was only made for one person, so there was little to no room to even look at each other properly. You’d both had to lean backwards against the walls to not end up touching noses, and for some reason, that hadn’t even occurred to you until that very second.

The breath in your chest shook a little, “I know…Um…” You laughed uneasily, “I know you said you were okay, and I know we don’t usually do this kind of thing, but if you ever feel like it…just for the support – that my hand is here for you to hold if ever you want to.” You inhaled, and this time it was you who was unable to look at him, “And that it’s okay to feel confused about it all. You don’t have to have an explanation for everything, but there’s nothing you can feel that’s wrong in any way. And if you ever want to talk about it…I’m always gonna be here for you.”

When you finally found the courage to turn to him again, he was looking at you in a way that was almost equivalent to the secret adoration you harboured for him, and you fought to keep your cheeks from flushing and your face from smiling like a damn fool. With the way the LED overhead lights were shining on you both – the heat of them warming the box pretty quickly, made worse by the two bodies also in there – your eyes drifted to his nose. You’d never really noticed it before, but the light seemed to hit it just right to enunciate the straight bridge of it. There was a scar just above his lip, darker and also more pronounced from the fresh shave (he’d not got rid of it all, there was still a light bit of scruff left), and although he wasn’t smiling properly, the creases by his eyes seemed to suggest otherwise.

He swallowed once he noticed you’d turned your attention back to him, and he nodded, lips twitching, “That really means a lot, hearing you say that.” He said, rather hoarsely, “It also goes both ways, too.” 

You tilted your head in question.

“The hand thing – you can hold mine…for support.” 

“Ah.”

“I actually do have something to say, now that I’m thinking about it.” 

When did his eyes get so fucking bright? It almost angered you that you’d never noticed it before.

“What?” You asked, mildly curious as to his next words.

Though, nothing – absolutely nothing – could have prepared you for the bombshell of his next words.

“You look really beautiful tonight.”

***

“I know I said to avoid Tim Horton’s today, but I didn’t really mean to avoid–Oh, what the heck?”

His phone was immediately pocketed, and the smile on his face immediately dropped, and he stepped through the door without another word, leaving you both severely confused at his sudden actions and slightly light headed at the speed he’d managed to do all three things in. He simply stood in front of your now shut door, a mildly horrified look on his face and his hands tapping against his short-clad thigh.

“Why are you wearing shorts, it’s freezing outside?”

Your question of appal seemingly went unheard, because the crease between his brows only deepened and he pulled a funny face: his mouth turned down at the corners but he wasn’t angry or upset.

“Um…Okay, so you can tell me to shut the fuck up with what I’m about to ask you…” He trailed off, his eyes never leaving your face – all it did was elicit you to swipe against your cheek, expecting your hand to come away with pen or some dirt or something, because he was looking at you like you were an alien.

It was weird. And creepy.

“But have you been crying?”

You blinked, tilting your head with wide eyes.

He didn’t say anything but he copied your actions, before snapping into a more serious role, “No, but I’m being deadly serious.”

You hesitated, and he took that as your answer, his entire body deflating.

There was no point trying to hide it, clearly not if he’d just taken one solid look at you immediately after walking through the door and managed to figure it out. If anything you were a little impressed he’d recognised it because you’d never cried before or in front of seeing him ever – there hadn’t ever been a situation where he’d have seen your post-cry face to recognise it for what it was, and it wasn’t even as if you actually cried much. Maybe two minutes, tops.

“I broke up with Sam this morning.” You bit the bullet, willing your eyes to not tear up as you spoke the words into existence, but as you did so, the lump rose in your throat so impossibly quickly you physically couldn’t bring yourself to say anything else. Not if you didn’t want to actually start crying.

So you waited, and you watched and you looked as he stuttered, his eyes darting all over your face before going to your living room area. He circled his attention back to you after his forehead had creased and he’d seen what was on the TV, looking suddenly more comfortable than he had mere seconds ago.

“Are you okay?” Was the first thing out of his mouth, his backpack sliding off his shoulders easily to be deposited by the door, and all you could manage was a weak shrug, teeth scraping against your bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

You hated crying, and there was nothing worse than crying in front of someone else – you had no idea how he’d react if the dam did end up breaking, but if the soft, sympathetic gleam in his eye as he took an unsure step towards you was anything to go by, you had an inkling you were in safe hands.

He nodded at your uncertain gesture, “That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

The crack in your chest seemed to split further, as though someone had thrown an axe straight through it, and all you could do was nod, your arms crossed tightly against your chest as though they’d somehow protect you from the inevitable hurt and grief of the next few minutes, hours, weeks and perhaps months.

But, despite all of that, the fact that he’d shown up out of nowhere sheerly because you hadn’t had the energy to pick up your phone, and because he clearly cared, you felt okay. Better than you had earlier when you hadn’t even spoken the truth to anyone.

He was right, you didn’t want to talk about it – but he was here. And he was pulling a Tim Horton’s box out of his backpack, giving you space and time and he was so heart-achingly patient that it almost sent you into another spiral of tears for a whole different reason. There was something about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His friendship was different from yours with Taylor; you loved the girl to pieces but if you’d have told her like you’d just told him, she’d have corralled you into spilling your guts about everything, and you didn’t need that.

You needed peace and quiet and the familiar security and the unspoken knowledge that, yes, you were upset, but you were going to be okay.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, stomach growling when the smells emanated from the open paper bag.

He nodded wordlessly, but looked up with mild horror at the sounds your stomach made, “Hungry?” He joked lightly, already rooting through your cupboards to gather plates.

“Just a bit.” You replied hoarsely, helping him upturn the various boxes onto the plates, before, wordlessly, you both crashed on the couch, your eyes burning each and every single time you blinked. Your throat was aching with the effort to not succumb to the growing lump that had planted itself there, and you were so exhausted. So, so exhausted. 

“Thanks for the food.” You said, between mouthfuls, the hungry cramps of your stomach easing with each and every bite. You didn’t let him answer before you jumped into your next question: “How was work?”

You watched him out of the corner of his eye, swallow, also looking at you for a brief moment – as though to suss you out and to gather his thoughts – before he shrugged, a small smile on his face, “It was so bad.”

“Really?” You managed a laugh, the muscles in your face feeling tight at the sudden movements. His face was a picture: he was grinning brightly, the corners of his eyes crinkled and his brows had jumped up his forehead, mind clearly playing something on repeat.

“Really. Willy did the bare minimum and just giggled at me the entire time which made me worse at it, and I – fuck, I couldn’t concentrate on the people in front of me when there were people ordering down the line, and then Mo and Auston showed up too–”

“You’re kidding.”

He shook his head morbidly, “Dead serious. Wearing wigs and the most ridiculous clothes I’ve ever seen, and they ripped us apart, man. I can’t even do it justice, you’ll just have to watch it when it comes out, oh God…” He trailed off, breaking into a small fit of giggles that was so infectious you had to put your own food back down and concentrate on now choking on your drink.

“It was bad, but you had fun?” You summarised, grinning as he nodded, practically glowing at the memory of it.

“I think it’s one of the best days I’ve ever had.”

You just laughed, tucking into your food once more as it became clear he didn’t have anything else to say about it–

“Why’re you watching this?”

Your eyes jumped to him across the couch, briefly frowning in confusion before remembering exactly what you’d been watching before the knock on your door. The frame had been paused mid-first period of the game – there wasn’t anything particularly spectacular about it, and you wondered if he recognised it at all.

He tilted his head, a hint of confusion lacing his tone, and you swallowed, nerves picking up and your heart thrumming in your chest. You never really talked about hockey with him, at least not from your perspective. You guys talked about the Leafs and his games and his practices and his teammates, but you’d never really broached your affinity for the sport. And the longer you’d left it, the more awkward you’d felt it would be to just admit it outright.

“It’s my favourite game.” You admitted quietly, fighting the urge to smile fondly.

He hesitated, his head swinging from you to the screen and back again, and he asked, a little breathlessly – as though he was trying to wrap his head around everything bouncing around his mind – “You watch hockey enough to have a favourite game?”

You nodded, “I love hockey.”

“You do?” He asked, voice higher in pitch than it had been. The surprise was painfully evident, and with it, so was the guilt that seemed to make itself known.

“Yeah.”

He nodded slowly, “I thought you didn’t know who I was?” 

“I didn’t. I’d just moved to Toronto, like, a week before you started I think, and the Leafs aren’t exactly my team, y’know?” You explained, watching him carefully for any traces of possible betrayal he might feel, “It was a hectic time to be keeping up with any NHL news.”

He blinked, before shrugging, “Makes sense. Your team’s the Preds?” He raised an inquisitive brow, and for some reason you knew then that you’d both be locked in this amusing back and forth for a while. Of course you would: there’s no greater hockey fan than a hockey player, let alone a hockey player playing for their childhood team. 

You scoffed, barking a short, almost offended laugh, “No. I mean, I have nothing against the Preds, but it’s the Pens for me, all the way.” 

He arched a brow at your reaction, a smirk beginning to play at the corner of his mouth, “I mean you no offence when I say that.” Before, “I want you to win, though–”

“Just me?”

“Micheal Bunting against the NHL, yeah.” You rolled your eyes, “The Leafs are…I want you to win unless it’s against the Pens. It’s a conflict of interest.”

“What do you do when we play with each other?”

You widen your eyes comically, “Lock myself in a dark room and don’t come out until the game’s over.” You shrug, answering honestly, “It depends whose situation is the most dire, I guess. I always want the Pens to do well, but you’ve thrown a spanner in the works. You’ve made hockey complicated.”

“I’m honoured.” He laughed softly, “Why’s this one your favourite?”

“Sixth game of the Stanley Cup Final, 2017. I don’t know why that one specifically, it’s just the last one we won when I was back home, so it reminds me of…well, home, I guess.”

“You miss it?”

You nodded, almost wistfully, “Yeah. I sometimes think about moving back.”

“But?” He encouraged, almost afraid of what you were about to say.

“I don’t know. I have friends here, a job, somewhere to live; I guess I have that back home too, or I would given the time. I think I’m just waiting for the right moment to go back.” You trailed off, your voice becoming nothing more than a mere whisper, but he caught it – with a slow nod and the parting of his mouth.

You’d seen him speechless before, but he always managed to find something to say. The silence that ensued after spoke volumes, mostly just because you didn’t understand any of it. 

He reached over after that, taking the remote, before hesitating and turning to you, shocked when he found your eyes already on him, “What counts as the right moment?”

He pressed play when you shrugged.

***

Even after the conversation you’d both had last year about you leaving, you never would have imagined he’d be the one leaving first. It had always been a possibility, maybe even something you’d thought about since becoming friends, but there hadn’t really been anything to suggest he would leave. At least, not until the last season.

And it hadn’t ever felt realer than this moment: standing in the doorway to an empty house, your clothes sticking to you in the early Summer heat with your hands on your hips and feeling much more emotional about the prospect of a Bunting-less Toronto than you’d initially prepared yourself for.

He was wandering through the empty rooms, double and triple checking everything after you’d done the same, and for those lonely three minutes without him, you got a glimpse of what it’d be like not seeing each other every few days. You couldn’t exactly remember when Toronto had suddenly become him, but the idea of it felt strangely intimidating. It almost felt like you’d just moved in again, not knowing anyone or where anything was.

It was scary.

He came back into view, hand resting on a door frame as he stopped suddenly in the exact spot he’d looked up to you in. You offered a reassuring smile, standing up straight, but you could both tell it was strained.

“Checked everything?” You asked, voice tight, but you didn’t want to ruin this moment for him. He’d been looking forward to settling in Raleigh since he’d signed the contract – at least, once he’d gotten over the initial disappointment and sadness of leaving Ontario.

And you were excited for him, for this new opportunity and this new experience. 

You’d just never really anticipated how you’d feel.

“Yeah.” He nodded, swallowing, looking grave and strange.

“You good?” 

“Yeah.” He breathed a laugh, walking towards you and scratching his beard – he’d started leaving it longer between each shave now – “Just gonna miss this place, I guess.” He swung his hands in front of him, coming to a direct stop in front of you and swivelling on his heel, taking one last, long look at the place he’d called home for years.

You hummed in agreement, “Me too.”

You hadn’t even realised how true that admission was until you’d said it out loud. It sent an uncomfortable zing down your spine, like pulling down a zipper, and you shivered, rubbing your arms just to give yourself something to do. 

He turned to look at you, eyes assessing your every motion, and you froze. You didn’t really know where to go from here. The car was packed, the house was empty: you’d drop by the estate agent’s on the way to drop him at the airport, and from then on he’d be in Raleigh – at least, in every way that mattered to you. Sure, he had his training camps and he had his away games, but you’d very rarely get to see each other.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, unable to say anything.

But where did you go from here? You? 

Well…you’d been toying with the idea for a while, but–

“You ready?” He breathed out, lips pressed together with his hands on his hips.

You nodded, managing a smile, but the lack of effort into pretending like you weren’t in the least bit affected by it was noticeable. 

“Let’s go then.” You whispered, leading the way to the front door, slowing down each time he turned to get another look – never too far ahead, not wanting to let him out of your sight. These moments felt crucial, somehow. It was the last time you’d actually be able to look at him properly; his eyes, hair, smile, arms, legs, clothes. You felt silly soaking it all up.

He followed closely on your heels, taking the keys from you on the porch and turning round to lock the door behind him for the last time. He didn’t say anything, but his mouth twisted and he ran a brief hand across his brow bone, almost as though he was wiping away some sweat or satisfying an itch.

You tried not to make it obvious you were keeping an eye on him, ensuring to stand behind him, a few steps down to give him the space to collect himself if he needed to. And when he turned back around, he tried to keep his head down but you still caught his red-rimmed eyes and his sucked in cheek and his shaky smile as he caught up with you.

It was silent in the car, too, no music playing through the speakers. He was looking out of the window, eyes catching onto everything that swam passed, drinking it all in. 

Each time ‘for the last time’ flew through your mind, you’d have to catch yourself and reign in the prickly eyes and the tightness in your chest as best as you could without drawing too much attention to yourself. It felt pointless, though, because you knew it was inevitable that you’d both end up shedding a few tears at some point.

The only thing that seemed to do it was the knowledge that it wouldn’t even be the last time, because he grew up near here. He’d come back when he could; you’d see each other at the Marner wedding next month, too.

It wasn’t the end of the world, but it felt like a part of it was dying.

“Here.” You mumbled, voice hoarse and wiping at the underneath of your eyes (no tears had fallen, but you could feel them welling up).

He looked up and out of the window, eyes zeroing in on the window of the estate agents. His seatbelt came next, and before you could convince yourself otherwise, you followed him in, ignoring his curious eye but taking the hand he offered anyway. It was something you’d both taken to doing lately, even in mundane moments like this.

Whether it was the knowledge that time was running out or if it was just a comfort thing, you never spoke about it. It just happened. And it seemed today was one of those days you both needed it.

Only, as he made his way towards the desk, you branched away towards the other side of the shop, hands ripping apart. He only threw a confused look behind, but carried on when his own agent walked out from the back of the shop.

You, however, found yourself standing in front of the magazine rack, hands clenching and unclenching at your sides, eyes roving over the words on each, searching for the correct one. Nothing seemed to ease the hollowness under your sternum, though. 

There was some comfort when you found the right one, though, picking it up and feeling the comfortable weight in your hands. It felt like a breath of fresh air, and the twinges eased only slightly at the familiar cityscape on the front.

You swallowed, rolling it up in your fist and making your way back over to where he was chatting to his estate agent, a pen in his hand and some papers in front of him. The key had been stripped of its keychains, and for some reason that little difference brought everything back again.

You wanted to reach for his hand, but you held back for a moment. The estate agent caught your eye and you managed a polite smile, but it dropped the second they looked away.

And before you could blink, Michael was pushing himself off the counter, snatching his keychains and pushing everything else back towards the agent with a final thanks, and then he turned.

He blinked, eyes dropping to the programme in your hand, and you tried to hide it by moving it behind his leg, but he wasn’t having any of it. There was a crease between his brows, and he didn’t look to be on the verge of tears anymore, but there was a specific ticking to his jaw – his entire being was still tinged with a veil of melancholy, but he gently took it from your hand once you’d stepped outside. You let him, your fist unfurling.

Your face seemed to act of its own accord, an odd wince appearing as his lips parted.

“You’re really gonna do it?” He murmured gently, an odd glint in his eye.

“Think it’s time.” You breathed an uncomfortable laugh, somehow not able to look at him or anything else.

He was so magnetic it was honestly a chore trying not to give him all of your attention, least of all when he was looking at you differently. It wasn’t something he’d done a lot before, but you’d noticed it a lot more recently: his eyes would fix themselves on you with an unfamiliar intensity, and even when you’d catch him red handed, he wouldn’t ever let up. If anything, the attention from you seemed to make it worse (or better?) because he’d start to smile and he’d expel a stuttering breath, like he hadn’t previously been breathing.

Each time, though, you never failed to blush slightly. Your cheeks would feel warm and you’d only be able to stand his look for so long before ultimately looking away, trying not to appear too flustered by it.

“Yeah?” He asked, handing you the programme back, “You can’t stand to be in a different country than me, eh?” He joked, but you could sense the underlying seriousness to his question, as though he was fishing for a specific answer.

“You wish.” You managed, scoffing slightly but unable to hide a small smile at the familiar dynamic.

It vanished the second the first wave of homesickness took hold of you though, and he noticed. Just grabbed your hand again.

The drive from the estate agent’s to the airport was even worse. Every time the sign appeared on the side of the road, you’d have to inhale and remind yourself to keep breathing in order to stave off the oncoming bout of tears. The entire time you were fighting against the wetness gathering in your eyes, and your nose had started to run – each sniff meant he’d look at you out of the corner of his eye and if anything, that made it worse, because as time went on and as you pulled into the parking lot, you could hear his sniffles too.

You put off turning the engine off. The second you did, he’d climb out, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that just yet. Judging from the utter stillness he was exhibiting in the passenger seat, he was the same.

Your hands were still clenched around the steering wheel, the rough plastic doing nothing to cure your cold hands, not even when the sun was shining through the windshield and warming the entire vehicle. Your body was on high alert, blood not really flowing to your extremities.

You’d never been so numb yet so aware of everything in your entire life: the way the hairs on your arms stood up when he turned in his seat to face you was almost drowned out by the pounding of your heart in the sheer effort it took to not show the tears wobbling on your waterline. 

It was a plane taking off and the sheer volume of the engine that snapped you out of the haze, your hands unclipping your seatbelt, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to even touch the door, flinching when the belt smacked against the inside of the car.

“I feel weird.” He muttered, eyes staring straight through the windshield and into the car parked nose to nose. He sniffed once, before unclipping his own seatbelt, and you watched him in silence as his shaking hands hovered above his lap before eventually settling on top of his cap, a shuddering breath passing his lips.

The sight was such a contrast to how he’d been earlier that morning – he’d gone from bouncing on his toes with giddy excitement to suddenly folding in on himself and the entire world crumbling at its edges.

You pushed open your car door, fully intending to make your way around to his own door and start from there but the second your feet hit the tarmac, he’d also pushed himself out of the car, his door slamming behind him. He’d made it to the trunk before you could even shut yours behind you or ask if he was okay, but it looked as though he’d made the decision to pretend he hadn’t just admitted his inner turmoil.

You helped him lift his luggage out of the car (there wasn’t much: most of his actual things had been packed in a moving van the day before to meet him in Raleigh tomorrow) in silence. The trunk shut.

You swallowed nervously, eyes darting to the entrance of the airport before jumping back to him. He had one fist clenched on the top of a suitcase, his other dropped by his side, gaze focused and unwavering into the glass window of the trunk, blinking every so often.

You cleared your throat and the corners of his mouth twitched before he turned to look at you, feet shuffling against the gravel. 

And he looked so despondent and not really like him at all that you didn’t have any choice whatsoever but to grab his free hand, which, similar to yours, was cold to the touch. You were both watching your fingers intertwine slowly, sliding over each other before finding solace in their places between each other’s knuckles. Three squeezes on your behalf and a small step forward had him pulling his suitcase along, an apprehensive and equally unreadable expression on his face.

“I could have stayed here longer.” He said, the both of you crossing over, a distracted gleam in his eye as he looked up at the entrance, nose scrunching on one side.

“If you stayed longer you’d want to leave less when you have to.” You reasoned, “And it’s better to move into your new place and get everything unpacked and ready for the season before it starts, to really get used to Raleigh, yeah?”

He nodded, swallowing, “Yeah.”

“Still feel weird?” 

He nodded again, looking to the floor as you walked through the entrance.

You frowned, a stab of something really getting you right in the ribs as he only looked up when the airport atmosphere bled into his bubble. It was busy, but it wasn’t the busiest you’d ever seen it: people were milling about, double checking for passports and boarding passes, everything ready at hand, and at the strangers’ checks, Michael’s own hand pulled away from the suitcase, forcing you to stop walking towards the first checkpoint, and patted against the pocket on the outside of his backpack.

He pulled it all out without looking, peering into the plastic wallet you’d given him to keep everything important organised so he wouldn’t have to check it all at this moment, right in the doorway. You reached over, letting him fret, and wheeled his suitcase over by the inside window, dragging him with you.

“What are you doing?” He asked, brows knitted as he continued looking into the wallet, not sparing you much of a glance as you patted imploringly at the straps of his backpack.

“Take it off.” “Only if you ask me out first.”

“Sorry, I just want no strings attached.” 

His eyes slid over to yours, his cheek sucked into his mouth to stop himself from grinning, and he gave you his wallet, shrugging his backpack off easily and dropping it on the floor next to where you’d parked his suitcase.

“Now what?” He asked, eyes darting back to your hand like he wanted to grab it again, but decided against it.

“I don’t know.” You breathed, “How long do you have left?”

“Two hours-ish until boarding.”

“Oh.” He had to leave now, you supposed, eyeing his luggage like they were the ones taking him away, and that ache in your throat reappeared before you could even blink, and you were rendered speechless. 

You watched him nod, and reach for his bags, but he must have changed his mind because the next thing you knew, your back was pressed up against the window, his arms wrapped around your shoulders and your head resting against his collarbone. 

There was a moment when all you could focus on was the sudden envelope of warmth that circled you, the cacophony of smells: deodorant, fabric softener, a slight twinge of sweat and something else entirely – something very familiar – and before you could even sigh at the ache in your chest, you’d melted into him completely, your own arms hooking around the backs of his. You tucked your forehead down into his chest, pressing at the supple muscle, hands tightening in his shirt.

It wasn’t very comfortable: the ridges of metal edging the glass panes were digging into your back, and–oh.

There was a shuddering against your forehead, and you froze, before tilting your head up to see his eyes screwed shut in an effort to not let anything show. 

“We’ve still got the Marner wedding – it’s gonna be okay.” And despite yourself, despite the watery smile on your face, you laughed a little, “You’re gonna enjoy Raleigh–”

“It’s not that.” He shook his head, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and blinking to get rid of the blurriness before dropping them to his sides again, the both of you still in entirely too-close-for-comfort-quarters. 

“The weird feeling?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, his chin wavering, and he inhaled sharply, “It’s just gonna be so weird not seeing you.”

“FaceTime exists, as do away games to Toronto.”

“I’m not even in that division anymore.”

You sighed, “Pittsburgh is, though.”

Silence.

He was doing it again: “Stop looking at me like that.”

He frowned, “Like what?”

“I don’t know, just–” You rolled your eyes, reaching to tug him back into you like before, only this time your hands slid up his back to rest across the tops of his shoulders, and he sighed into the touch, his own rough palms dragging up your neck to plant a soft kiss against your hairline. 

You stayed like that until he really had to go, but there weren’t any tears.

***

“Do you like him?”

The question hung in the air for a good few seconds, you pulling a face, heart pounding like a jackhammer against your sternum before you could even find the words and the ability to talk, “He’s infuriating.”

“Do you like him?” Taylor’s voice rang out through your phone speaker, her eyebrow raised very matter-of-fact, and you’d never wanted to scream at her before, but you were cutting it pretty close with the way she was looking at you and the tone she was using.

You hesitated, your face falling. The words were caught in your throat, the admission you’d practised like a teleplay in your head, but the only thing stopping you was the way things would change. Sure, it would only be little things to start with, like Taylor nagging you with it, or her insufferably smug ‘I told you so’s. But eventually that meant that you’d have to do something about it, because Taylor could never leave things like that alone, least of all with rock hard evidence.

But…maybe you needed that?

“I…” You looked away from your phone, body trembling with an invisible cold, “Did I tell you what happened at the wedding?”

She frowned, “The Marner one?”

“Yeah.”

“The one that happened, like, Summer last year? Fucking months ago?”

You cringed, “That one.”

THE MARNER WEDDING:

“My God, are you a sight for sore eyes.”

Michael Bunting was never one to care about his appearance, least of all after crawling off a plane, but somehow he’d found himself in the bathroom of the airport, fixing his hair and straightening his clothes. All for it to fly completely out of the window when he strolled towards the exit and the first thing you did was say that. He couldn’t tell if it was the grin on your face or the sheer excitement racking your entire being that caused it, but he’d never felt sillier for feeling nervous about this moment.

“Could say the same thing about you.” He retorted, feeling the tightness in his chest dissolve, “What’s that?” He reached a finger to tap the underside brim of your cap, the sudden intrusion making you blink and jump slightly.

You knew what he was talking about: the black cap on your head, the sticker placed over a hidden logo with your handwritten message scrawled on. He furrowed his brows, eyes tracking over the words, before tilting his head in confusion, reading it aloud, “‘This is indeed my first rodeo’.” He said it slowly, as though he was worried he’d read it wrong, and before he could even ask you what it meant, you felt his fingers pick at the corner, peeling the sticker back.

He smiled sarcastically, patting it back into place with more force than necessary, the pats like small smacks against your forehead, “Shoulda known. What’s with the rodeo thing?”

“Bridal party thing.” You shrugged, “I’m not sure really.” You reached out to take the small suitcase from him, your own hands trying to pry his fingers off the handle, but he only held on tighter, “Let go.”

“No.”

“Yes.” You sighed, looking him dead in the eye hoping he’d get the hint and succumb, but he shook his head, his other hand peeling your fingers off him one by one, more condescendingly than anything else, “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want the dead body to fall out.”

—

“Hey, I forgot to ask earlier,” he called from the bathroom, the door shut as you took turns: he was cleaning his teeth and trimming his beard etc, and you were getting changed – later, you’d swap, “but how’s the property hunt going in Pittsburgh?”

You grinned, slipping the straps of your dress over your shoulders. Even the mere mention of your future plans had you smiling like an absolute idiot; you couldn’t wait to get back there. If you told the you that had just moved to Toronto what you were about to do, you were sure she’d have had a stroke from the shock. For so long, you’d envisioned living your life in Toronto and staying there. Moving back home felt more like a fever dream or something you shouldn’t do, because surely moving back to your home city meant you’d failed at something? At least, that used to be your thought process.

In reality, you just missed your family too much – every time something happened, whether it be a proposal or an illness, something in you just ached to be back there. 

“It’s going okay. I’ve got a few places lined up that my parents have viewings booked for to check out, but there hasn’t been anything that’s stood out so far, but…” you paused, sitting on the edge of the bed to sort out your shoes, “I’ve got an online job interview with a company back there next week and the starting date, if I get it, is on par pretty much with moving in if there’s a place found within the next two weeks or so. But that’s only if everything goes well. Reality is I’ll probably end up moving back in with my parents for a few weeks until I find a place which isn’t exactly ideal.”

There were a few bangs, things getting placed on the counter, before his muffled, “Can I open the door?” Could be heard.

“Yeah, I’m decent.”

He creaked open the door, leaning on the handle as it swung open with a dopey grin, and it took everything in you not to stall at the sight: he was only wearing dress pants and a pair of socks, his hair tousled and damp from the shower. You’d seen photos of hockey players shirtless before, but there was something breathtakingly stunning about seeing Michael without one. He was your friend, and friends kept their shirts on – but…you swallowed, rather wishing you didn’t have to tear your eyes away from his toned figure and the smattering trail of hair, and turned your attention to his face.

The grin on his face had frozen, and despite not even looking further down than his neck you could see his chest rising and falling, eyes narrowed playfully as he stood up straighter, eyeing you with something that screamed trouble in all ways imaginable.

“Were you just checking me out?” He let go of the door handle, one hand pointing at you in an accusatory manner, and you just blinked, frowning.

“No.” You shook your head, pasting an incredulous ‘how could you’ look on your face to try and deny what had, in fact, been absolutely true.

He hesitated, his eyes roving your face for a single speck of a lie, “You were looking.”

You shrugged, “I’ve just never seen someone so…well-built before, that’s all.”

He nodded, pressing his lips together to stifle another grin, “So you were checking me out?”

“No, I was looking. There’s a difference.”

He lifted his hand, thumb and pointer finger closed together, a slither of a gap between them, “Tiny difference. So tiny there might not even be a difference.”

You sent him an unimpressed look, one that you hoped would mean he’d shut up about it because the second you even so much as hinted at him being right, it’d be over. He’d hold it above you for the rest of your lives, and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of that, not if you could help it, “You’d know if I checked you out.”

He fell for it, his smile dropping in curiosity, “How?”

You shrugged, “You’d just know.” You took a deep breath, “Why’d you open the door?”

“I was gonna ask you about this job interview next week – what’s it for?” He disappeared back into the bathroom, but the mirror in the room still provided you with the perfect angle to watch his focused motions as he ran a towel through his hair and picked up an electric shaver. Each time he moved, his body rippled, and you hated that you couldn’t stop looking.

“It’s a cheffing position at a hotel, but it’s almost like a club. There’s an entire golf course; the restaurant is gorgeous; it’s got a spa, and it’s just…it’s like an old estate house in a period film, it’s just beautiful.” You raved, fiddling with your makeup bag as you waited for him to finish.

“Sounds incredible.” He muttered, nodding at you to join him and shoving his things to one side, “What makes you think you won’t get it?”

You shrugged, placing your bag on the counter, missing the way his eyes dragged right across your figure in the mirror, his hand still shaving his cheek with close concentration. Perhaps if he’d wavered, you’d have caught the action, but you didn’t, carrying on, “They can’t really ‘interview’ me without trying my food. I had to ask if it was okay for an online thing and it was lucky they even agreed, so…I don’t know, it just feels too good to be true.”

“Why?”

You sighed, “It just does. Something has to go wrong somewhere.”

“Not necessarily.”

“I don’t want to get my hopes up, that’s all.” You said it forcefully, throwing something back into your makeup bag and not even looking in his direction. He slowly lowered his hand to the counter, eyes fixated on you for a whole different reason.

You’d gone from being so infectiously excited about the prospect to suddenly…not.

“Everything okay?” He asked softly.

It had been four weeks since you’d last seen each other, and although he’d felt your absence like he’d never expected, he’d never felt it more than he had now. Ironic, considering you were standing right next to him. To have gone from texting each other with updates every day in Toronto to that eventually dwindling, mostly because he didn’t want to bother you too much – he’d assumed the same on your end, too – it was a big adjustment. He’d caught himself reaching for his phone a few times or eyeing it as each notification came through, and the remembrance of ‘oh, shit, we’re in different countries’ or not seeing your name pop up sent a shot of disappointment so deep through his chest that sometimes he’d actually have to massage it away.

It kind of killed him, though, that he didn’t know what was wrong. If he’d have still been back here…

“Yeah,” you clenched and unclenched your jaw, “it’s just stressful. There’s so many decisions that need to be made, and I have a date to move out now but I just want to go back to a job lined up at least. It’d be worth it then.”

His mind whirled, ideas of what to say lining up like there was no tomorrow, but he wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say. He swallowed, nudging your arm with his elbow to get you to turn your attention back to him, and smiled smally in the mirror when you met his eyes, “I think it’s worth it anyway if it’s something that makes you happy. And it won’t be the end of the world if you don’t have a place to live or a job immediately. It might be ideal, but if it doesn’t work out, you’ll figure things out. Everything will fall into place, it just might take some time, that’s all.”

It was almost magical how quickly the sudden tension dissipated. The dread in your stomach and your racing heart calmed almost instantly – the very second you allowed yourself to believe his words. You knew he wouldn’t say something like that and not mean it, and the fact that he believed in you to that extent – to hear him topple each and every single doubt in your mind to the ground – had you fighting to grab ahold of him. Whether it be his hand or to hug him or to just check to make sure he was really there. It didn’t matter that one half of his beard was neatly trimmed and the other wasn’t; it didn’t matter that his hair was wet or he didn’t have a shirt.

You wanted to tell him you missed him at that very moment. Especially when he looked at you like that again.

Michael blinked, eyeing you. He was aware the entire room had come to a standstill and that all you were doing was simply breathing and looking right at him, and it was the latter that was odd. There was something skewiff about the way you were looking at him, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Your mouth had parted, and there was a faint, dainty crease between your brows, like when you were thinking about something. If it weren’t for the fractional tilt of your head or the softness to your eyes – they kept bouncing across his face like it was the first time you’d actually looked at him – he would’ve thought that’s what you were doing: thinking.

But then you huffed a laugh, almost shocking yourself, and snapped back to reality, that look disappearing as quickly as he’d noticed it, “Yeah.” You placed a hand against your cheek, eyes darting away from him briefly, and when you pulled your palm away, he could see the growing darkness of your cheeks, “Thank you, I really needed to hear that.”

You looked towards the counter, hair falling in a curtain and hiding your face, and not for the first time since he’d come back, a homesick pang seemed to resonate to the tips of his fingers, as though his entire soul had been plucked like the string of a guitar.

—

He kept telling himself that his arm was around your shoulder, his fingers against your skin, because your strap kept falling down – and he could tell it was irritating you. (He’d also made the mistake of actually looking when it had fallen the first time, the sharp motion catching his eye, and he had no intention of replicating that awkward moment again.) It had absolutely nothing to do with the alcohol in his system, lowering his inhibitions, or the way you’d scooted closer to him because of the tight-packed bar, or the fact that he’d realised mid-way through the ceremony that what Mitch was saying about Steph was eerily similar to how he felt for you.

Mo kept shooting him a look over Tessa’s head when you weren’t looking, and Willy had hilariously looked shocked when he’d had to correct him that, no, you were just friends, even after knowing that exact same fact for over two years now.

But you? He didn’t think you were thinking too much about him at that moment. Your eyes were fixed on someone further down the bar – someone that he wasn’t particularly fond of during the season in the first place – and he was having a hard time trying not to let it get to him. 

Sidney Crosby. He wasn’t doing anything in particular, but you kept glancing back at him and he could practically sense you vibrating at the mere knowledge that he was metres away. He was half-expecting you to straight-up ditch him to go talk to the man himself, or he would have if you hadn’t shaken your head at Mitch with a hilariously terrified look on your face when he’d offered to introduce you. Michael had an inkling you did want to meet the guy, but just didn’t want to appear too eager.

And realistically, he knew he had absolutely no reason to even be the slightest bit jealous of the guy. He wasn’t even sure he was jealous, but the thought did make him uncomfortable; though he wasn’t entirely able to think about anything other than the vows from earlier.

“Want me to help you out?” It was Willy talking in his ear. He didn’t even need to look at the blonde to know it was him; the garish chain peeking out between a shirt that was unbuttoned dangerously low down, and the cologne emanating from him. Bunts figured he must douse himself in the stuff before he steps outside, but he’d seen Willy get ready and the only conclusion he’d reached was that guy must just smell that good naturally all the damn time.

He didn’t know why that was the first thing that popped into his mind at that moment. What he did know was that nothing good ever followed Willy when he uttered those words. 

“Absolutely not, no.” He was very aware of his fingers still hooked onto the strap of your dress, keeping it held tightly against your shoulder. And on the way your other shoulder was pressed right against his chest. And the fact that you were chatting to someone he wasn’t quite sure he recognised – but the point was that you weren’t listening.

“What, why?” Willy frowned, pouting and swigging a bottle of something. Michael didn’t like the look on his face.

“Because.”

“Because you’re scared?” 

His silence was enough to answer Willy’s question.

“You need help.” 

Michael frowned, “Like, mental help or–”

“Me help.”

“I just said no.”

“I heard you but I’m electing to ignore that and follow my own instincts.” Willy flashed him a grin and Michael felt his stomach drop, watching and unable to move as his ex-teammate walked to his other side, coming to stand next to you and whisper something in your ear that had you recoiling, your head gently bumping against Michael’s shoulder. He pretended not to notice, but he couldn’t help drinking in your reaction.

He had no clue what Willy had done or said, but he could feel his heart beating in his chest, and he was half-expecting you to turn around and ask if he was okay, but, much to his own intrigue, you shook your head, an awkward apologetic expression on your face.

Willy shrugged, but there was a crease between his brows. And because Michael knew him so well, he could tell something had been proven. 

Willy then reappeared at Michael’s other side, and you returned talking to who you’d been chatting to before, a triumphant smirk on his face.

“What?” 

Willy said nothing.

“Dude.” Michael could feel himself getting agitated, his hand was tapping anxiously against his thigh and because he was so fully intent on focusing on Willy, he was completely ignorant to the way you’d turned around at the sudden shaking, eyes zeroing in on his spare hand with confusion. Willy noticed it, though. He also noticed the way your hand twitched before clearly thinking the better of it and turning back around.

“I just told her one of my friends thinks she’s cute.”

Michael blinked, nervous.

“Point is,” Willy continued, “That that was obviously untrue. I mean, she’s cute, but she never even thought twice about it. Didn’t even turn around. Said she’d rather not and stayed standing with you.”

“That proves nothing.”

“It proves she’s not looking at other people.”

“Barely. You’re clutching at straws.”

Willy rolled his eyes, “Okay. But you better do something about it before someone else comes along and she chooses them, okay? Because it’ll happen.”

—

You were about ninety percent sure that you were one of the only people in the entire cafe who didn’t have a hangover right now. It might have something to do with the fact that you hadn’t had much to drink last night because you wanted to be as sober as possible just to soak in as much of Michael as you could and actually have a chance of remembering it.

You had no idea when you’d see him next. He was leaving for a training camp in a few days and you had a feeling the next time you’d see each other you’d be in Pittsburgh, all being well. You still had to sort out your paperwork and the whole visa situation still had to come through before anything could happen, but other than that, both of your timelines were one giant question mark.

That seemed to weigh on you heavily now you were sitting opposite each other. His hair was slightly scruffy, none of the gel in from earlier, and he had bags under his eyes – a telltale sign of his own hangover.

He’d acted weirdly last night. You couldn’t really put it into words, but since walking into that bar it was like he wasn’t entirely there all the time. Like he was distracted. He kept checking his phone, and before he’d met up with you for breakfast he’d appeared with a gift bag with a book in it and smiled each time he caught sight of it.

You had a horrible feeling that he was seeing someone. It’d make sense, even if it did come as a bit of a shock considering the four week mark, but who could blame him? He was a catch if you did say so yourself. 

You’d tried to put the bubbling anxiety at that idea to the back of your mind, but the more you looked at him, it only felt weirder. 

“How’s Carolina?” 

The touch of his fingers ghosted your shoulder, a blazing reminder from the night before.

You blinked, goosebumps rising on your skin at the mere memory. What the fuck?

He looked up, nodding with a grin, “I love it so far. I’ve met up with some of the guys that stayed in Raleigh and I’m getting along with everyone well so far. It’s really pretty there, too. How’s Toronto treating you without me?”

You flicked your food over on your plate, “As well as it usually does. It’s quieter, though.”

The conversation wasn’t anything you hadn’t already talked about over text or FaceTime; it was something you kept coming back to when you just wanted to hear him talk. You weren’t entirely sure when that had started. You paused. You’d done for months, even back when he was in Toronto.

This time, when he answered, he leaned closer over the table, and for a brief moment you thought he was going to admit a secret or pick something off your face, but when you looked up he was doing It again.

And this time you didn’t shy away from it. In fact, if the spike in heart rate was anything to go by, you revelled in the attention. And the revelation just took your breath away.

“I know this might sound weird…” He trailed off, eyes carefully gliding over features, and although you didn’t know it was possible, your heart rate skyrocketed, the pounding tingling the tips of your fingers and causing a raucous rushing in your ears. Without even realising it, you’d leant closer across the table, too, the only thing separating the two of you being the condiments rack.

He seemed taken aback at your proximity, eyes widening and his mouth stuttering, “I do miss you, y’know.” He whispered, cheeks reddening almost immediately.

You blinked, allowing your mind to digest the gravity of his admission. Something happened: it felt like something in your brain sighed or something in your chest loosened, something you weren’t even sure existed suddenly being clicked to life, and you smiled shyly. You were completely unfamiliar with what it was or what it meant, but you knew there was a point of no return: you’d be chasing whatever this was for the rest of your life, without a doubt.

Where you’d felt jilted moments earlier, something evened out – it felt smooth, there was no ache when you breathed, and your mind cleared, the only thing on repeat…him. 

Oh.

There was a zing straight down your spine, and you shivered at the feeling of it.

“I’m gonna say something even weirder…” Your voice came out shaky, shakier than you’d initially like it to be, and he automatically glanced at your mouth because of it, “I miss you too.”

He blinked, stifling a grin by placing his hand over his mouth, and you took the opportunity to change the subject, not wanting to dwell on anything too long for fear of what it could mean, what it could lead to, “Are you gonna let your hair grow out?”

He pulled a face, his hand moving to his hair self-consciously, “You don’t like it?”

“No, I like it.”

“What about the beard?”

You hesitated, “I…Do you want my opinion?”

He pulled a face, like you were crazy for even asking, “I literally asked to get your opinion.”

“Keep it like that, then.”

“What’s this about my hair, though?”

“Nothing.” You breathed a laugh, wondering how an innocent question led to this entire ordeal, “You look good.”

Silence.

His cutlery clinked against his plate as he looked up, your own hand frozen midair around your cup of coffee, him staring at you incredulously and you staring at a stain on the table, a little too afraid to look at him. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t acted like you’d told him a monumental piece of news that’s changed the entire trajectory of his life. It also shouldn’t be too much of a big deal because he’d told you you looked beautiful before, and that hadn’t been an issue.

You broke first, taking a sip and mustering the courage to look at him once more, raising your eyebrows at the utterly shocked look on his face.

“I look good?” He reiterated, speaking each syllable with his entire body. His breathing was shallow, and for a moment you worried if he was about to pass out.

“Yeah.” This time it was your turn to act like he was crazy for asking, “You always look good.”

He breathed a mirthless laugh that bled easily into one of amusement as he pointed a finger at you, “You were so checking me out last night.”

You blinked, replying blankly, “If you’d have left it five more seconds I’d have lost my mind.”

He grinned mischievously, risking a wink, “Duly noted.”

You rolled your eyes, scratching your eyebrow to try and hide your face with your hand as you stacked your plate on top of his, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.” 

For some reason you hadn’t pushed yourself up and out of your chair very quickly. By the time Michael had tucked his chair under the table and was standing next to yours, his head turned to the side – distracted – you’d only just finished tidying up the table. And because his attention had been stolen, and because he was standing so close to your chair, when you finally did make a move to stand up…

His head snapped in your direction, the sudden motion making you flinch backwards, legs bumping awkwardly against the table, and his hand shot out, flattening against your back. If you were more honest you’d have said you didn’t need the stability: all you’d done was knock your calves against the wooden legs – but the sudden, unprompted touch on the small of your back had you freezing where you were, breath hitching in your chest against your will. 

You were watching his face before, trying to pick out exactly what had caught his eye, but this time you could see when the realisation of what had happened set in: his mouth parted like he was about to say something, and his eyes were wide – probably slightly alarmed at the almost-stumble he’d seen in his periphery – and was, for lack of better words, practically hugging you to him. You were forced (though there wasn’t a single cell in your body that felt reluctant) to catch yourself in his arms to prevent yourself from being catapulted straight into him. 

He wasn’t wearing a hat. Usually he did, but today he’d left the hotel room without one, and you’d never really thought twice about it or missed its presence more than you did at that moment. A hat would have given you space to think, time to not spend looking straight at him, time to not fantasise about what would happen if either of you happened to lean in at the same time, but–

He’d folded first, his gaze flicking down to your mouth for a brief moment before returning to your eyes, the palm on your back not wavering one bit. He didn’t even take a step back to let you stand up properly, but instead stood there, holding you, waiting. Waiting for some indication from you that, yes, it’s okay to close the gap.

Your heart was thundering in your chest, and you were sure he could feel it against your ribs if he concentrated hard enough, but you couldn't bring yourself to focus on that for too long. Not when the sight of him in front of you was so enticing.

You inhaled quickly, wanting to say something but not quite finding the words, and he waited once more. He only seemed to do something when you chanced a glance at his mouth, not even intending to, but also not doing anything to stop yourself from sneaking a look, and his head dipped–

“Oh, hey guys.”

It happened quickly and a lot less clumsily as to how it had started: Michael blinked at the sudden interruption, seamlessly stepping backwards and pulling you with him, his hand dropping from your back once you were safely on your feet. You were a little slower, only managing to keep your breaths even and to turn your attention away from him in time to see exactly who it was that had just shown up.

Only, your bewilderment and vertigo increased when you set your eyes on the familiar figure taking a seat on the table next to yours, completely and utterly oblivious to what almost transpired. 

Sidney Crosby was sitting grinning in your direction, and your mind went blank for a whole host of different reasons. The main one being Sidney Crosby was grinning at you. You were vaguely aware of Michael’s hurried motions, placing your hat on top of your head after a quick greeting. You heard your name, and you smiled politely. 

Your face didn’t feel like your own, you were aware of moving your cheek muscles, but everything felt strangely foreign.

And then Sid was looking at your cap, and suddenly you were back in your own body.

“Cool hat.” He pointed, leaning sideways on his chair, and your smile broadened.

“Yeah, Pittsburgh Penguins, maybe you’ve heard of them?”

He laughed, feet kicking slightly under the table, and you felt Michael stiffen next to you, “I don’t think I’m familiar, no. They any good?”

You shrugged, “Won a couple of cups, made us locals proud. There’s this guy, Sidney Crosby, he’s pretty cool.”

He pretended to pull a face, “Oh, I know that guy.” He sighed, shaking his head.

“You don’t like him?”

“Hate that guy.” 

***

“What the fuck.” Taylor all but yelped through the screen once you’d done a quick rehash of events, before falling completely silent, her head in her hands.

You nodded, “I know. I got Sidney Cros–”

“Fuck Sidney Crosby, babe. With all due respect, fuck that guy.”

You swallowed, “Yeah, okay.”

“What are you gonna do about Michael?”

“We haven’t really talked since the wedding.” You mumbled sadly.

***

A meal was all you had. In three months, all you managed to snag of his time was a home cooked meal in your new apartment, and even then he couldn’t stay for more than a few hours. You didn’t just have to worry over the fact that things had clearly changed since the wedding, but you had to worry about cooking him a meal that adhered to his plan of what he could and couldn’t eat, and it had to be edible.

So, it was safe to say you were feeling a lot of pressure. Cooking at work was completely different to cooking at home: not only were you usually too exhausted to even cook something that nice when you got in, but there was something personal about cooking for people you know. It always felt like they were judging what you’d made, trying to decide if you were good at your job or not. Sometimes it felt like a make or break deal. If they didn’t like your food, they wouldn’t like you.

And while that had never been the case for Michael, tonight felt different. For starters, it felt like you’d had to fight tooth and nail to even get him to come over for a few hours, which was new. 

In all honesty, you were even hesitant in the entire…ordeal. Because that’s what it was, really, it wasn’t a quick catch-up, it was an ordeal. The last time you’d felt this nervous was when you were back in school, and gosh you didn’t miss the feeling at all.

He knocked three times and you had to stop stirring the pasta (shocker!) sauce to answer the door.

“Hey.” He sighed, flashing a tired smile, and in that instant all your anxieties seemed to diminish. They hadn’t disappeared completely, but it was as though the volume had been turned down, and you could breathe easily.

“Hi.” You answered almost breathlessly, and his brows jumped up his forehead in amusement, the small crinkle of a smile making an appearance, “I feel bad for pestering you now. You look exhausted.”

He shook his head, “Don’t, I’m glad I came.”

And then he did something he’d never done to you before: he leaned in and he pressed a delicate kiss on your cheek. The exact place he’d touched with his lips seemed to flame before you even registered what he’d done, and in that same moment, you were catapulted back to Toronto. Tucked next to each other under a blanket, an episode of The Mentalist on, both of you utterly immersed in the plot. 

You blinked, not entirely sure where that had come from, and grinned, his scent filling your senses, soon to bleed into your apartment and your couch and your cushions. The one thing you loved about having him around was that you could tell he’d been here even days later: whether it be the faint smell of his cologne when you sat down or the plants that had been purposefully switched around on the windowsill – something you tended to notice when you finally crashed, and it never failed to put a smile on your face. 

“This place is adorable.” He commented, easing himself onto the couch, feet up and reorganising the cushions around him, and all you could do was stand off to the side, simply watching him get settled.

“Adorable wasn’t what I was going for.” 

“What were you going for?”

“Cosy.”

He hummed, tearing his eyes away from you to have another quick glance around, “It’s that too.” And then he rounded back to you, still hanging around in between the living room and the kitchen, not really wanting to leave him alone but much too devoted to the food to even think about asking him to follow you in there, “How are you doing?”

You shrugged, “I’m really happy here.”

He fell asleep straight after he finished eating.

***

His stuff was everywhere: boxes and bags stacked and piled and thrown in the right rooms; zips unzipped and lids open, objects and clothes and cutlery scattered across floors like he’d picked up a handful and left a trail of nuts for you to track his steps. 

It was a mess, but it was a reassuring mess. You hadn’t really believed him until he’d shown up at the airport, and even then it had taken three days for you to actually comprehend the luck of it all. It took you fourteen minutes to walk to his apartment, now. Not over an hour on the plane, not counting the taxis and waiting for your luggage.

Quite frankly, it blew your mind.

It had taken you so long to adjust to even being friends with him, to then adjusting to him moving to Raleigh when you were still in Toronto, to then adjusting to you in Pittsburgh and him still in Raleigh…and now you were both in Pittsburgh and it had taken you approximately three days to get used to it. Not weeks, not months where you’d keep forgetting you couldn’t just show up outside his apartment.

You’d caught yourself laughing at it on more than one occasion.

For now, though, despite the welcome mess (as proof of life), you were looking straight at him. You’d caught yourself doing that a lot lately, but there was a reason this time – not just a genuine wonder at his mere presence. 

He walked back into the room, arms stretched out in front of him, clearly assessing the new jersey, and you swore, right then and there, that you’d never loved him more. For all his shit-talking on the Pens over the years, he was now wearing their jersey, much to your appreciation.

“I like it.” You spoke first from your position on his couch, your arm in the box of merch and kit he’d been given (he’d allowed you to have free reign over some of the items, all you had to do was ask him first), your teeth briefly scraping over your bottom lip. It wasn’t the first time he’d worn a black jersey, but it was the first time he’d worn one with a Penguin on the front and yellow text that spelt his name on the back, “A lot.”

You were grinning, and when he looked up to see you shaking with glee, he shook his head, huffing an amused laugh, “Of course you do.”

“I still don’t think I’ve gotten used to you not wearing blue yet, though.” You muttered, and he nodded, mouth flattening but face somehow still smiling.

“I do miss it, but I think I’m getting used to it.” He shrugged, before grabbing the front of the jersey by the NHL logo and chucking it off his shoulders and throwing it straight at your face, “You can keep that one if you want, I’m not short of any.” You heard him say, his voice slightly muffled by the fabric, and you pulled it from over your eyes, hand wrapped in the material – to see his cheeks flush at your expression. It seemed to worsen when you dropped your eyes to his bare torso.

“Thanks.” You averted your eyes quickly, instead focusing on smoothing the jersey out in your lap, fingers tracing the penguin before flipping it over for his name. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him reach into the box next to you and pull out a few t-shirts before a cap was in his hands and he was brandishing the logo in your face.

“Have you seen one of these before?” He asked, pointing to the circular black and yellow logo: the Pens motif was in the top half of the circle with two crossed-over sticks in the bottom half, and you shook your head.

“I don’t think so.”

He spun it around in his fist, eyes flicking from the hat to your face, “You want it?”

You hesitated, “Are you sure you’re allowed to let me have some of this stuff? I feel like they’re giving you different kits because you’re actually part of the organisation and that normal people aren’t supposed to have them.”

He blinked, jaw clenching as he took in your words. And before you could even say anything else, he placed the hat rather lopsidedly on top of your head and rifled back through the pile of clothes for the sheet of paper before throwing himself down next to you, the piece of paper held out so you could read it too.

You felt a bit pathetic at how quickly you felt your pulse start to pick up at the contact: his entire torso was leant against your shoulder, and although it meant you got an unobstructed view of…everything, and although you appreciated it, at the same time it felt a bit cruel. Like dangling a bone in front of a dog.

“It doesn’t say I can’t give it away.” He mumbled, turning to face you, his forehead bumping the brim of the cap. You blinked in surprise, but didn’t miss the way his eyes just casually flickered down to your lips, or the way his hand dropped down, still clutching the sheet, once he realised you’d not actually been looking at the words.

He’d caught you looking at him.

You cleared your throat, cheeks flaring but not too ashamed considering  you’d just caught him looking at you, and his eyes zipped back to your face, an awkward silence ensuing. Neither of you moved. You didn’t know if you were too scared to ruin the moment or if you were physically frozen by what could have happened – could still happen. Stillness seemed to be key. His breath was fanning softly against your face, and you were sure the same went for you. 

It was eerily similar to the whole Sid-situation. Only this time you were in the privacy of his own home, he was notably shirtless and the risk of getting interrupted was low, but not entirely zero.

You felt your own lips part at the same time his head moved an inch closer as though he was testing the waters, but before you could even think about leaning in, his mouth was moving.

What?

His cheeks reddened, and the blush seemed to travel down his neck and bleed into his collarbones, his attention now flicking between you and something off to the side, clearly too nervous to even look at you and speak.

“I asked if you were free on Thursday?” He whispered, his gaze travelling back down to the piece of paper still in his hand.

He hadn’t moved away from you but the stab of disappointment at the lack of his attention and the realisation that he’d chosen not to kiss you was profoundly disturbing. You didn’t like it, the way you practically yearned for him. The idea that your enjoyment in life was tied to what a random man did or didn’t do was absurd, and if you were being honest with yourself, you did feel a bit pathetic that you’d let it get to that point.

He was your best friend, for fuck’s sake. You weren’t supposed to actually fall in love with him – that was something that only happened in the movies or in novels. 

But…he was kind, he was funny, he was charming, he clearly cared for you. 

Did he feel the same way? It was impossible to tell in your eyes. Sure, it had just looked like he wanted to eat you, and you’d caught him looking at you like you hung the entire galaxy before, but who’s to say he didn’t look at other people like that?

And in all honesty, you’d spent so much time trying to not look at him that you’d given him plenty of opportunities to (if he did) sneak glances at you when you weren’t looking.

You sighed, folding the jersey, acting like his skin on your forearm wasn’t burning. Like you were completely normal being in his presence, “I should be, yeah. How come?”

He raised a brow, shyly turning back to you, “I was wondering if you wanted to go out?”

Something fluttered in your chest – it felt an awful lot like hope, and when you answered, your voice sounded off. You weren’t breathless, so to say, but your voice cracked and sounded ropey to your own ears, “Go out where?”

The question almost felt futile, especially with the wry smile he just sent your way. You had a feeling, but even thinking the feeling out loud in your head felt like you were about to jinx it, so you fought to keep your mind quiet. Everything else though (heart rate, blood rushing, the feel of his fingers tapping rhythmically against the inside of your wrist), that was loud. 

His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek when he looked down at where he was delicately touching your wrist. His motions stopped, but the warmth never left.

“With me, I was hoping.” He didn’t look at you as he spoke, and you held your breath the entire time, a part of you wanting to make sure you’d just heard him correctly and weren’t imagining it, “Like a date.”

“A date.” You echoed, flipping your wrist over completely so your palm was pointing to the ceiling. He didn’t tear his eyes away from your hand, but you could feel his heart thumping through his back from where he’d pressed himself against your shoulder and a smile fell naturally on your face. It wasn’t a big smile, but it was soft. The kind of smile that was only ever really reserved for him.

His hand didn’t falter in its motions as he dragged his fingers down the inside of your wrist to swirl a pattern on your palm, fingers tracing the lines and creases gently. 

It took everything in you not to scream.

He just hummed, and when you tore your gaze away from the side of his face – he wasn’t giving much away – his chest was thumping in time with his pulse. Was it possible for nerves to make him catatonic? You’d never seen him this nervous yet so calm and collected at the same time.

You inhaled, feeding your starved lungs, and tried not to shudder when his fingers slowed only to tangle and interlock with yours. It was like he was testing it out, seeing how you fit together, whether your personalities blended as well as your bodies did–

You felt yourself blush at that insinuation, and squeezed his hand, prompting him to look at you instead of away.

He did so slowly, first peeking at you out of the corner of his eye with a small breath of relief when he saw you weren’t annoyed. Then he turned his entire head towards you, leaning back so he wouldn’t knock into the hat again, and his mouth twisted, still awaiting your reply.

“Have you been wanting to ask that for a while, or…”

His stare went blank, and you could tell her was trying not to roll his eyes at your teasing questions, obviously stalling to get a rise out of him. It was working, “Put me out of my misery first.”

“Okay.”

He blinked, leaning forwards slightly, “Okay I’ll go on a date or okay I’ll put you out of your misery?”

“Both.”

He smiled, using his free hand to swipe at his nose and look away briefly, flustered. His chest was still pink and blotchy and you nudged him playfully with your elbow, “Your turn.”

“Uh…” He hesitated, “maybe, like, since you told me I don’t look like a Michael.”

You stared at him, jaw unhinged and dropped in shock, “But that was–”

“Two-ish years ago, yeah.” He nodded, pulling a face at himself, “What can I say? You charmed me.”

“But I was rude to you..” 

“I wouldn’t say rude–”

“I wanted you to not like me.”

He froze, “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“It had the opposite effect.”

And then you laughed. Right in his face, not very loudly, but you laughed at him altogether, “You liked me when I couldn’t stand you, I would’ve said no.”

He rolled his eyes, flicking the underside brim of the cap he’d given you, “Good job I held out then, isn’t it? At what point would you have said yes?”

“When you left for Raleigh.”

“Wow.”

“You gotta remember, I was in a relationship for a while–”

“Oh, that guy.” He muttered, bitterly, "I think I blocked that out-"

You interrupted him, leaning closer to briefly press your mouth against his, effectively shutting him up. Even at the brief contact, and even as you were pulling away you could feel the relief of it dissipate from your shoulders, like a worn out elastic band had finally snapped. You paused, a breath away from him, and his eyes slowly blinked open having tried to chase your mouth.

Even despite that, he still maintained his grin, "That's a good tactic." He muttered, hand sliding up the side of your neck as his thumb slid gently and delicately across your jawbone. His eyes zeroed in on the motion, clearly enjoying the way your skin reacted to his touch, goosebumps rising to the surface and eliciting a shiver of pleasure from you.

It was barely three second of contact, but it had changed your genetic makeup.

He was addictive, even the smug look on his face as he pressed his forehead against yours, chin bumping towards yours. You held you breath in anticipation, eyes instinctively fluttering shut - it was difficult to ignore the pounding of your heart or the tingling beneath his fingers.

"Noted." You breathed, unable to help smiling at his tone, "You gonna make me wait until Thursday now-"

"It's rude to keep a lady waiting." Was his answer.

[topperscumslut]

Broken (Randy Meeks x Fem!Reader with Vaginismus)

PLEASE READ: Guys I’m super proud to announce I’ve written my first vaginismus friendly smut (with none other than Scream’s Randy Meeks)!!!!! For those of you that don’t know, vaginismus is a disorder where the pelvic floor muscles involuntary contract which makes vaginal (and often anal) penetration painful at best and impossible at worst. This is a condition I’ve struggled with for YEARS and have used reading and writing smut with penetration to cope and live out those fantasies that I can’t have irl (I’ve recently started treatment and am about to start pelvic floor physical therapy so hopefully I can have sex with my long distance gf this summer lol). I wanted to write this for my fellow AFABs with vaginismus (or really anyone who’s interested in reading it and/or learning more) and I just watched the newest Scream movie and have started hyperfixating on the whole franchise again and am FERALLY horny for Randy so um… here this is ig?

Description: Sidney, Billy, Tatum, and Stu are talking about their sex lives which makes Randy and Y/N feel a bit insecure due to being the virgins of the group… though the reason runs a bit deeper for Y/N. (Also the murders don’t happen in this story which means Maureen Prescott is alive and well and since yk cause and effect therefore Sidney doesn’t have issues with intimacy like she does in the film so her and Billy are sexually active so um ya) Randy and reader are clearly in love with each other but everyone can tell but them lol.

Content/warnings: both smut and fluff (kinda hurt/comfort). mentions of penetration but none included. mentions of vaginismus. handjobs and coochie touching (how tf else do i describe it cuz it’s not fingering???). oral (both AFAB and AMAB receiving). innocence kink, hair pulling, slight begging. Randy worshipping your body lmao. not proofread cuz it’s 6am.

Word count: 2k

It was a normal day at Woodsboro High School, just six best friends talking and laughing as per usual; Sidney laying in Billy’s lap, Stu with his arm around Tatum, and you and Randy sitting awkwardly off to the side, both oblivious to the way you’re mutually trying to move oh so subtly closer to each other to the point that Randy’s body is nearly touching yours.

“Hey, Tate,” Sidney speaks up, “where were you guys last night? The four of us went out and tried to reach you two but didn’t get an answer.”

“Stu and I were… busy,” Tatum says with a blush, biting her lip.

“Oh yeah we were!” Stu laughs, pulling Tatum closer and sticking his tongue out teasingly.

“Oh God, gross,” Randy groans, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, it’s no biggie, right Sid?” Billy flinches as Sidney lightly hits his arm at his comment, now blushing herself. “It’s natural, we all do it. It’s not our fault you’re a virgin-”

“C’mon Billy, don’t be a dick,” Tatum sighs, “Randy’s just a little more shy than the rest of us. Nothing wrong with that.”

No one had picked up on the fact that you had been uncomfortably silent this whole conversation. No one but Randy at least.

“I-I should probably get going, you guys,” you mutter, picking up your stuff and turning to walk away, attempting to hold back the tears forming in your eyes. “Don’t wanna be late to class. See you guys later?”

“Yeah, see you later Y/N!” Tatum says with a sweet smile before turning to the others after you’d left. “What the hell was that about?”

Randy was wondering the same thing, which is why he went out of his way to find you after class while the others met up at Tatum’s locker.

“Hey, Y/N, wait up!”

“Oh, hey Randy!” you smile at your crush, pleasantly surprised to see him, “what’s up?”

“I, uh, just wanted to check in on you. You seemed a little off today at lunch. You okay?”

“Yeah…” you reply, though your tone of voice betrays you and Randy can see your demeanor become more closed off. “I’m all good.”

“Okay, cool,” Randy says, not quite believing you but also not wanting to pry. “Do you wanna come over to my place for a bit?”

You blush a bit, excited at the fact that Randy wanted to spend more time with you one on one. “Yeah, I’d really love that!”

You sit in silence for a couple minutes in the car. Usually with Randy the silence is more comfortable rather than awkward, but not today, as he could tell that there was something wrong.

“Look, I know it gets a little awkward when they talk about the sex stuff, particularly Stu with how vulgar he gets. Trust me, I get it, especially being the only virgin of the group,” he says with a forced, shameful smile.

“Yeah, about that…” you sigh awkwardly, nervously scratching your neck.

“Wait, what?”

You shake your head. “Nevermind. Forget it.”

“No, tell me Y/N,” Randy replies, sheepishly placing a hand on your knee which activates something inside of you. “What’s up, for real this time?”

“Well…” you trail off, slightly shocked that you’re getting into this with your best friend who happens to double as the boy of your dreams. “I’m a virgin too, you know.”

“Very funny, Y/N,” Randy chuckles, brushing off your comment.

You laugh a bit in response. “What, is that so shocking? You calling me a slut, Meeks?”

“Oh my God, no! I didn’t mean to-” Randy stutters turning beet red, “I mean, fuck… you’re gorgeous. I would’ve never thought… I’m sorry.”

“Hey, I was just joking, don’t worry! I didn’t actually think you were saying that,” you giggle. “And seriously, have you ever seen me talk about sex with the rest of them?”

“I guess not, now that you mention it…” Randy shakes his head. “But I guess I just figured that was because unlike the others you aren’t in a relationship. I just never imagined you would- I mean look at me, it’s kind of obvious, but look at you,” Randy can hardly keep his eyes on the road as he turns to admire you, his gaze lingering on your lips. “I mean, surely you’ve had the chance.”

“I mean I have, and it’s not that I haven’t done some things, it’s just…” you shake your head.

“Hey, s’okay,” Randy says, slowly rubbing circles on your knee with his thumb, causing a growing wetness between your legs and butterflies in your stomach, “you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“No, I think I actually do want to. It’s just I have this… condition.” Randy’s eyebrow quirks up in curiosity. “I just, I can’t have sex. Or, well, not sex sex, as society thinks of it. The muscles down there just… tense up. Nothing can go in. So no sex, no fingering, no tampons. It’s fucking miserable.” You laugh uncomfortably, trying to lighten the mood. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m telling my guy best friend about my broken vagina!”

“Hey!” Randy speaks up, “don’t say that. You’re not broken. And any guy who’s bothered by this condition is a piece of shit who doesn’t deserve you.”

“I know, I guess. It’s just hard, when the others talk about their great, perfect sex lives all the time and I just feel like I’m sort of defective. And even you, I mean, sure you haven’t had sex but you’re at least physically capable of it.”

“Yeah, just not socially,” Randy chuckles. “Not one girl wants to have sex with me.”

“Or more, the one that does physically can’t,” you mutter under your breath.

“What was that?” Randy asks, locking eyes with you as he pulls into the driveway.

“N-nothing,” you stutter, taken aback as he leans over and presses his lips to yours.

You’re a bit shocked at first, albeit in a good way, but soon grasp what’s happening and passionately kiss him back, knotting your hands in his hair and lightly pulling which causes him to moan softly in your mouth. He pulls away, a string of saliva connecting you.

“I don’t care if I can’t be inside of you. You’re perfect the way you are, and you’re not broken. Fuck anyone who says otherwise. I don’t give a shit what we can or can’t do, I’m going to make you feel so good,” he looks down sheepishly, surprised at his sudden confidence, “with your consent, of course.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Of course I consent, doofus! Have you seriously not noticed me nearly soaking through my panties for you for months now?”

“In that case,” Randy says, giving you another small peck. “You’re mine tonight.”

He leads you into his house where luckily his family is gone, opening the door for you with a “m’lady,” which makes you giggle and blush before taking your hand and leading you up to his bedroom.

“Just tell me if there’s anything you don’t want to do, and stop me if you feel uncomfortable, mkay?” Randy asks, running his hands up and down your body and you nod.

You couldn’t help but find yourself attracted to Randy’s innocence. Sure, you were technically a virgin, but had done other stuff with guys before, most of which who left because you wouldn’t (or more, couldn’t) put out. But Randy on the other hand had never even been touched by a woman before. Something about that was incredibly sexy.

He looks at you for permission to which you nod before he pulls your shirt up over your head, admiring your breasts in your lacy bra. You unhook your bra as Randy talks off his own shirt and takes in the beautiful sight of your bare chest, eyes widening.

“Oh my fucking God…” he whispers, awestruck by your voluptuous breasts, taking them into his hand and lightly pinching your nipples, making you whine in pleasure.

Randy meets your eyes with a newfound confidence you’ve never seen in him before. “You’re so fucking horny for me, aren’t you babygirl?”

You nod sheepishly, blushing. “I need you so badly Randy.”

He takes your left breast into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your nipple which draws a couple lewd moans out of your mouth before switching to the right one. This continues for a couple moments before you pause him.

“Randy, stop,” you say, pulling his mouth away from your tits.

“What’s up?” he asks, saliva hanging from his lips, “did I do something wrong?”

You shake your head. “No. It’s just you deserve to feel good too.”

“O-okay,” he mutters shyly as you start to unbuckle his belt and pull his pants down before removing your own, leaving you both in your underwear.

You start to palm him through his patterned boxers, eliciting soft groans of ecstasy from him.

“That feel good?” you ask.

“Y-yes,” Randy sighs, head falling back in pleasure. You look at him for permission before unleashing his cock from his boxers and slowly massaging the length of it as he bites his lip from the sensation.

“F-fuck, more,” he moans as you speed up.

“If you insist,” you say with a smirk, taking him into your mouth and sucking lightly.

You begin to take him deeper into your throat, generously licking and sucking his shaft as he moans and whimpers with pleasure. He wraps his fingers in your hair, gently tugging which only arouses you more. Due to his inexperience, it isn’t long before he cums down your throat with a loud moan of relief.

“Holy fuck,” Randy pants. “You were amazing at that. Now if you don’t mind, it’s my turn to return the favor,” he says with a cheesy wink.

Randy kisses his way up and down your body before focusing once again on your plentiful chest, licking and sucking your tits which causes you to whimper out his name.

“Randy?” you whine.

“Yes babygirl?”

“My-my pussy needs you.”

“Oh, good girl,” he purrs, “telling me what you want.” He reaches down suddenly, rubbing torturously slow circles into your clit through your panties.

After a couple minutes of you begging, he slowly removes your panties, continuing to massage your clit.

Damn, you think, for having literally no experience, he sure knows his way around a clitoris.

Randy once again looks at you for permission before laying you down on his bed and spreading your legs, eagerly putting his face between them.

“You sure you want this?”

“Yes, fuck, just please Randy!”

Your consent is all he needs before he’s shoving his face in your pussy, licking a stripe up your folds before sucking and licking your throbbing clit.

You can barely stand the pleasure as Randy licks up and down your vulva, sucking harshly on your clit. His mouth is so warm and wet on you, it sends you into waves of ecstasy you’ve never felt before. You feel your orgasm fast approaching as Randy devours your aching clit and throw your head back in pleasure.

“Randy! Fuck, I’m close!”

He barely removes his mouth from you, keeping his tongue on your sensitive nub as he demands “cum for me,” the vibration of his voice on your pussy sending you over the edge.

You cum hard on his tongue, overtaken by the sweet relief. Randy pulls you back up from the bed where you can barely move from how good he made you feel so that you’re both sitting up facing each other, both still naked.

“Did I do okay for my first time?” he asks.

“You did perfect!” you reassure him, kissing him sweetly.

“Hey, we may not have been able to take each other’s virginity yet…” you say, “but how does eventually sound to you?”

His face lights up with joy. “Do you mean-”

“Yeah, Randy. I want you to be my boyfriend. I’ve liked you since I first met you.”

“I’d love that,” he smiles, kissing you again.

The two of you spend the night kissing, cuddling, and watching (and critiquing) horror movies until you fall asleep in Randy’s arms, dreaming of doing it all again the next day.

[boltwrites]

Requests for Tech?! Ask and you shall RECIEVE!

Could you write something along the lines of Tech and reader having to go a gala undercover posing as a couple? I know this has been done a million times already, but I can't get enough of it.

(Purely fluffy SFW, if you don't mind)

A/N: i chose fem!reader for this (mentions of wearing a dress and makeup) so i hope that's ok!

this isn’t exactly a full fic with this premise, but more the start of one, since it started getting kind of ridiculously long and i wasn’t sure where to go from here. i hope you like it! if there’s enough interest, i might add onto it, but honestly i’m not too happy with it :/

"I don't understand why I was chosen for this mission," Tech grumbled, adjusting his goggles as he crossed his arms. You sighed. You loved Sid, but these boys she had working for her were certainly an interesting group. Their arguments were always entertaining, though.

"What, Tech, got two left feet?" you teased, only in order to egg the rest of the group on. You knew that the mission Sid had for you all - to attend a gala in order to slice into a spice lord's comms - wasn't the sort of thing these boys were usually sent out on. Their missions tended to involve more blaster fire and less small talk.

"Absolutely not. That is physically impossible," he scoffed, and you giggled at how literal he took you while Echo face-palmed and Hunter rolled his eyes.

"No, Tech," Hunter clarified, clearly exasperated. "You're a good slicer. Even if you do talk like a protocol droid," Hunter mumbled the last bit, which earned a hearty laugh from Wrecker. You had to cover your mouth to muffle your giggles.

"Can we refrain from the droid comparisons, please?" Echo interjected, which shut you all right up as he raised an eyebrow at Hunter. "Trust me, Tech, I would have gone instead of you, but..."

Echo gestured to his scomp, which wasn't easier explained. It was true - even if this wasn't a slicing mission, Tech would be the least likely to stand out. Echo had too many cybernetics, Hunter had his face tattoo, and Wrecker was... well, Wrecker.

"Don't worry about it, really," you added to Tech, who was still frowning at his batchmates. He looked so uncomfortable - shoulders stiff as he tried his best not to snap at the others. You placed a hand on his shoulder to hopefully calm him some. You didn't know the Bad Batch very well, but if you had to work with Tech, you didn't want him to hate the assignment you two had to work together on. "I know this crowd. I can do the talking, you can do the slicing. It'll be fine."

"That is not-" Tech started, but then he shook his head and sighed. You bit your lip, a bit confused as to his hesitation, and why he didn't finish his statement - from what you knew of him, he always spoke his mind. Even the other batchers looked worried - Echo and Wrecker sharing a concerned look with Omega, and Hunter pausing, looking between you and Tech as if he understood something that the others didn't.

"If you ladies are done arguing, our seamstress is waiting!" Sid cut in, yelling from the bar. "She's gonna need all the time she can get with noodle legs over there! Get moving!"

You chuckled at her joke, and you thought you could spy a blush on Tech's cheeks at the jab as you were unceremoniously hauled to the bar of the bar to be fitted for your fancy gala clothes.

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

You didn't see Tech again until it was time for you to get to your speeder. You smoothed your hands over your dress - it was a simple, form-fitting red dress with a slit running up your right leg - the perfect place for you to hide your blaster. This wasn't necessarily your favorite style of dress - you preferred not to use your sexuality as a tool most of the time. But, in order to keep the attention of the various underground salesmen you would be interacting with, you knew that you would need to be eye-catching and Tech would have to blend more into the background. You had even thrown on some makeup - another thing you usually avoided simply for the sake of time. But, despite the fact that this wasn't something you would want to wear every day... you liked it. You felt attractive, powerful, even, in a different way than you were used to.

Even if you were a bit cold waiting outside the speeder. You wrapped your arms around your shoulders to try and conserve a bit of heat. Where was Tech?

Almost as soon as you asked, Tech stepped out of the bar. He was fidgeting with the cuffs of his outfit - a simple suit jacket that matched his pants, a more casual shirt underneath, as the crowd you both would be running with weren't exactly black tie people. He pressed his glasses further up his nose - a less tactical version of his typical goggles that he clearly wasn't used to.

But... he looked good. You had never really looked at him before, at least not closely. He almost purposefully blended into the background of his squad, always hunched over a datapad, letting his mind shine over everything else. You had never realized how long his legs were, how tall he was when he stood up straight. And with different frames, his big brown eyes were... really pretty.

You blinked, shocked. You were sure you were blushing, but you tried to act casual, nodding and shooting Tech a little wave that definitely read as more awkward than casual.

It didn't matter - he seemed to be purposefully avoiding your gaze as he beelined to the driver's side of the speeder, eyes firmly pointed at the ground. You sighed, chalking it up to his discomfort at his state of dress, and the mission in general - Tech didn't like being the center of attention, and this mission in particular seemed to be stressing him out. You slid into the passenger seat, careful to keep your dress from catching in the door. No matter what, the two of you had a mission to complete.

Tech didn't speak as he powered up the speeder, working quick and efficient as he checked a few settings before pulling away from the bar. You were a little surprised that his squad hadn't sent him off. You considered it as you powered on the datapad Sid had left for the two of you on the center console - maybe Tech was worried the others would make fun of him for being so dressed up? That's the most likely explanation, you thought. They were always picking on him a little bit, and he seemed nervous enough, judging by how he kept sneaking glances of you when he thought you wouldn't notice.

"We should probably go over our cover story before we get there," you started, trying to ease Tech into this as gently as you could. It was a necessary detail, and you didn't want to put it off any longer. The flight to the gala wasn’t that long.

“Ah, I wasn’t aware Sid had given us a story,” Tech replied, brows scrunched together in frustration. “I would have liked to know those details before we left for the mission.”

“I’m sorry,” you started, but Tech cut you off.

“It’s not your fault,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I will have a talk with Sid once this is all over. This is not an appropriate way to treat operatives on such a mission.”

You shrugged, trying to shoot Tech a tiny smile. He seemed legitimately upset - and you figured that it was reasonable for him to be so. He was already nervous, and more new information wouldn’t help that.

“Well, nothing we can do about it now,” you said, flipping through the datapad. “It seems to be pretty standard. We’re from Coruscant, where the spice game is too saturated - we wanted more freedom in our distribution, so we moved.” 

“Sounds reasonable enough. I suppose we could work with it,” Tech sighed, as if he could have written a better cover. You tried not to chuckle at how dismissive he was as you flipped to the next page.

“According to this, we’re long term partners - both in business and in relationship. I assume that’s probably to give me an out for anyone trying to hit on me,” you added, because with so much attention on you, it was a good that you would have an excuse as to why you weren’t interested in any of the potential suitors.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Tech asked, his voice wavering just a bit. His eyes flickered from the road to you, only for a second. Oh, he was so nervous! You were starting to wonder if he would be able to complete this mission, if he was still so uncomfortable.

“Our covers. We’re business partners and in a committed relationship, according to the file. But don’t worry about that too much - I’m obviously the bait, so I need a reason to deny any advances. Being committed is the best reason in a situation like this,” you explained. Tech’s cheeks reddened, and he made a choked noise.

“This is ridiculous,” he started, and you immediately felt like a burden. Did it make him that uncomfortable to have to fake a relationship with you? 

“I’ve never been in any relationship, least of all one with such an eye-catching partner -” Tech continued, and now it was your turn to blush. “How am I supposed to prepare? To research? I’m driving!”

You laughed in relief, glad that Tech was only concerned because of the lack of preparation, and not because he found you repulsive or something. You wouldn’t put it past him - he seemed to have very high expectations in all facets of his life. But it was good to know that he thought you were eye-catching, even if he was worried about his acting skills.

“Don’t worry about it, really,” you calmed him. “I’m doing the talking, remember? I’ll distract our target, and you just get your hands on his datapad and extract the information we need.”

“Yes, just that,” you could practically hear his eye roll, and it made you grin. 

“It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine,” you added, and that just seemed to make him more irritated.

“Yes, well. I would have been better if I could have researched this,” he insisted. You chuckled.

“Researched what, exactly? How to act like a drug dealer?” you giggled at the assertion, and Tech shook his head, looked at you as if the answer was obvious.

“No. How to act in a relationship. I’ve never been in one. Should I curse at anyone who tries to engage you in conversation?”

“Tech!” you laughed, shocked. “No! They’re supposed to want to talk to me - literally, just let me take the lead. It’ll come naturally, I promise.”

“If you say so. I am trusting you with this. Fully,” he adds, nodding at you briefly before he turns back to driving. You have no idea why that little line makes you feel so warm.

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

“Here -” 

You were approaching the entrance to the gala - laughter and the clinking of glasses echoed from the rooms within, the smell of smoke lingering in the air as you drew ever nearer. You knew that the two of you needed to look the part.

So you grabbed one of Tech’s hands and slid it around your waist, even as he froze at your touch. When you found a natural spot for him to hold you, you let go of his hand, giving it a soft pat as you released him from your grasp. He didn’t relax - his touch was feather-light and incredibly hesitant, despite the fact that you had initiated the touch.

You sighed, looking up at him. You really had never realized just how tall this man was - but thoughts of his height were quickly wiped from your mind as you were met with wide, nervous eyes. Oh, he was still so worried about the mission, wasn’t he?

“Don’t worry,” you whispered, pressing a hand to his chest so that the interaction seemed natural. “Just follow my lead. And actually touch my waist - it’ll make everything seem more believable.” 

Tech nodded down at you, a bit hesitant as he pressed his hand more firmly to your waist, drawing you close to him. You smiled up at him, to let him know that he had the right idea and you weren’t uncomfortable.

In fact, it was nice. Having Tech at your side was comforting, even -  he was great backup. He was smart as hell, he worked well under pressure, he was never impulsive, he was an impressive speeder pilot, he was good with a blaster, and he was tall enough for you to lean on comfortably, and his hand was warm at your waist where he pressed you to him... 

Oh no. You liked him, didn’t you? 

[takeyourcyanide]

Cute

(This is a fic I wrote because I was bored. It’s a bit different from what I typically write, but I wanted to get something out while I’m working on a fic centered around Stein ending up in a facility, and maybe even the battle where Sid ended up with baby Blackstar. Also, this is not necessarily meant to be read romantically, but Marie clearly has some romantic feelings for him. They are not necessarily requited.)

Stein has never been and will never be allowed to truly be himself. If Stein were to let loose and embrace all of himself, he’d practically face crucifixion. After all, psychopathic traits weren’t always looked upon favorably. Most of his traits weren’t perceived favorably, unless in a specific situation in which such traits must have been called for. Stein’s brain was and is neurobiologically, and overall, fundamentally different from the majority of the world’s. That is why staring into her eyes is like staring into a mocking mirror. She is the very embodiment of all he has attempted to, at the very least, lightly suppress. She represents the part of him that simply wishes to let loose and indulge in his impulses. She is mocking, for she serves as a cruel reminder that he cannot run, nor can he possibly hide from himself, and she laughs maniacally whilst doing as such. This knowledge of which Stein has tried his hardest to repress, Medusa incessantly reminds him of. But what else is he meant to do? Whether he gives in or not, he will be miserable. Such a lifestyle would not be sustainable. But at least it would be pleasurable. Even if only every once in a while. For at his core, he is nothing if not an addict and a hedonist. An addict and a hedonist who felt as though he was an overgrown child at times, abandoned in a foreign planet. For just like a small child, he cannot understand “basic human concepts.”

While Stein enjoys introspection, analysis, and solving complex problems, this was all extremely disorienting to think about. Especially when the mocking woman was stood directly in front of him. “You know it’s not you, Stein. You’re so pitifully cute when you try so hard to be something you’ll never be,” Medusa says in a condescending, almost flirtatious tone of voice. Her mouth outstretches farther than should be possible, as ear-piercing laughter echoes in the DWMA’s break room. Stein immediately covered his ears, curling in on himself as the volume of her laughter only increased. He began repeatedly hitting his head with his hands, before sitting down on the floor and rocking his body back and forth. The sound of her mockery reverberated off of the screw sticking out of his head, causing his head to feel as though it was a gong of which had just been beat upon. The lights in the break room seemed to have brightened. His clothes suddenly felt more uncomfortable, as though they had changed into a texture he was repulsed by. The floor looked as though it was breathing. The walls began to swirl. Everything was far too much.

“Franken?” Said Marie, curious as to why the meister was rocking himself, beating himself, holding his ears, and overall, just erratic-appearing. All of the sudden all went silent. The laughter had ceased. The walls and flooring were perfectly normal. The lights were no longer brighter than a star. Stein ceased his self-soothing, as well as self-harming. He slowly turned his head towards the confused and certainly concerned woman. “Marie?” Replied Stein, who Marie regarded as not only being even paler than usual, but also as having unusually and crazily wide-opened eyes. Another thing Marie noticed was that his eyes looked slightly watery, as though Stein was on the brink of tears. But no, that cannot be. He is not the type to weep. Even more concerning. Apart from that, however, the expression he wore on his visage was entirely indiscernible.

“Are you all right? What are you doing in here? You never go in here,” Marie confusedly asks and states. “Don’ know why‘m in here either. Was bored. Don’ wanna speak,” Stein slurs his words together, barely even pronouncing his R’s, in a childlike manner. This worried Marie greatly. Typically speaking, her friend enunciates very well, and speaks quite technically and formally. Stein also wasn’t making very much sense, and sure he’s had his moments in the past, but given the situation, this is far more worrying than usual. Not to mention how tired he looks. He has eye bags deeper than the Mariana Trench, and dark circles darker than a starless night sky. The man doesn’t blink very often, this time being no exception, but the few times he has so far, he has blinked deeply and slowly. He looks as though he might fall asleep on the break room floor.

“Let’s get you home, Stein,” Marie walks over to the clearly over-exhausted man, lifting him up and allowing him to lean on her shoulder as they walk out of the break room, and out of the school.

Stein was deeply resisting the urge to suck on his thumb. When Marie interrupted his hallucination, he almost immediately felt…small. Extremely young, even. Like a baby. He felt like that same small child that had no understanding of the emotional humans around him. That same child who learned of the invisible barrier of which existed between him and others. The same child that, while loved his solitude, ultimately realized he’d never not be alone in this world. Because he can never show anyone the extent of his soul. He is unable to love and form human connections like his peers. He cannot empathize nor sympathize. He doesn’t experience guilt, remorse, shame, humiliation, and the likes. This, in a special way, upsets him deeply. Sometimes he wishes he could just be normal. Wouldn’t it be easier?

All of those feelings, all at once. The fact that he has to suppress himself and no one else does. They are allowed to exist, he is not. All of that made him feel so terribly small. Even as a child, seldom did Stein cry. And yet he has been fighting back tears ever since Medusa began laughing.

Stein simply tucked his head into the crook of Marie’s small neck.

—————————

The sun was already setting by the time Marie and Stein had made it back to his laboratory.

Once inside, Marie sat him down onto the loveseat in a gentle and caring manner in his small living room. He looked to be half asleep.

“Are you hungry, Stein? Would you like me to make something to eat?” Marie asks sweetly, a curious furrow in her brows.

“Not hungry,” Stein responded tiredly. He still felt, in a way, small. He felt himself alone. The world around him felt unreal and fantastical.

Stein allowed his oddly heavy head to rest delicately upon Marie’s abdomen. He strangely hoped that Marie would run her fingers through his hair, as she sometimes did, if he exposed his scalp to her a bit more.

Stein’s wishes were answered, as Marie began to lovingly play with his hair and scratch his scalp, just the way he likes it.

“Come on. How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” Sighs Marie in suspicion.

A silence falls between the two.

“That question wasn’t rhetorical, Franken,” Marie stated flatly. Stein lightly groaned at the notion.

“This morning,” responded Stein. Of course the man was hungry. He felt famished. He was simply too tired to eat, and just wanted to sleep.

“You should really eat more, Stein. That isn’t healthy,” Marie scolded worriedly. She was always rather motherly towards her friends.

“I’m going to make some dinner for us both,” stated Marie as she began walking away. Stein groaned once more, as he felt the soothing fingers retreat from his scalp, and the abdomen he was resting on leave.

“You’re awfully whiny and needy today, aren’t you?” Marie giggles, playfully poking fun at Stein and the cute little pout on his face.

“Stein” and “cute” and the same sentence. Huh.

“I can make something small. I won’t force you to even finish it. How about that?”

“…Fine.”

Marie exclaimed a little “Yes!” from within her mind in victory, as she walked to the little kitchen in Stein’s laboratory.

Stein flopped his back and head against the back of the loveseat, resting his arm across the top and spreading his legs. He let out an exasperated sigh as he drifted off.

—————————

Marie finished cooking the chicken and rice she decided to make. She figured that would be relatively light, nothing too crazy. Not to mention the fact that there really weren’t many foods the odd man ate. Stein had always been a picky eater.

It was just another trait of his she found annoyingly cute. A bit weird, but cute, as she’d watch him dissect his food in order to pick out all of the “good”sections of chicken and meat and such, and leave out the “bad” parts.

Marie placed the food upon two plates (of which she had to bring into the laboratory) and walked into the living room with said plates in her soft hands. She placed the food onto the brown coffee table, straightened her back, fixed her skirt, and turned to get a good look at the unconventionally cute man.

Stein had fallen asleep. His head was laid on the top of the couch, facing the ceiling. His mouth was slightly hung open. Marie chuckled lightly to herself as he stepped over to shake him lightly awake.

“Stein? Stein. Wake up,” Marie kindly and quietly spoke, shaking his shoulders.

Stein’s head began to move slightly, as his brows furrowed and he lifted himself upright. His eyes opened slowly.

That “small” feeling, in a way, still remained. But was not nearly as strong now that he feels a little better.

“Marie?” Said Spirit aloud, groggily.

“Dinner is ready,” Marie responded, grabbing his plate and placing it onto his lap.

Marie stared at Stein expectantly, waiting for him to eat a little and to hopefully enjoy it.

“Uh.. Marie?”

“What is it, Stein? Is there something wrong?”

“You didn’t bring out any silverware.”

Oh.

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry! I’m so forgetful sometimes!” Marie exclaimed, surprised, scurrying away quickly to the kitchen. Stein tiredly laughed at this.

Marie came back with the proper utensils, and sat down beside Stein. She took her own plate into her lap and gave both Stein and herself silverware.

Marie began to eat, but soon noticed Stein’s struggle to do as such.

She took the fork from his hand, put an adequate amount of chicken onto the fork, and stuck it in his mouth. The confused look on Stein’s face made it seriously worth it.

“Haha! You should see the look on your face! Now chew!” Marie laughed, amused.

After chewing and swallowing, Stein asked, “Why did you just feed me, Marie?”

“Well, you weren’t doing too well at doing it yourself, now, were you?” She said, once again, playfully, giggling softly.

Well. She was right.

Stein felt much too tired to even feed himself. Existing in general was simply just a chore at the moment. And in this state of mind, he didn’t exactly mind being fed, though he found it a bit odd.

It was all so domestic and sweet. It practically rotted Stein’s teeth out. It made his head feel a little fuzzy, and maybe slightly repulsed and freaked out by the foreign situation.

But the little smile on Marie’s face reassured him. Though he couldn’t understand why she’d let her food run cold simply to assist him in a pitiful moment.

Even despite his lack of understanding, he certainly appreciated her kindness.

—————————

Once they had both finished their meals, Marie took their plates and utensils to the sink. Stein observed as she happily trotted to the kitchen.

They were truly polar opposites. And it utterly fascinated Stein. He found himself not only wishing to observe the sweet woman, but to also dissect and experiment on her. He wanted to see what kind of brain could make someone so utterly kind and caring. He wanted to scan her brain. And take apart her soul.

Stein was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even realize when the woman in question had returned.

She waved her tiny hands in front of his face, saying, “Earth to Stein. You there?”

She said beside him, back against the loveseat.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t even realize you were there.”

“Well, obviously,” Marie replied, laughing.

“You look exhausted, Franken. You want to sleep now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, okay, then,” Marie said with a soft smile on her face. The look in her eyes was one of genuine love. Stein had felt as though he’d never truly seen that before. He almost didn’t even know what it was. He couldn’t help but stare into her eyes, observing and analyzing. Dissecting. He was in awe of what he saw.

Marie lifted and maneuvered her arm behind his back in order to place her hand onto his scalp. Her fingers made their way through his silver hair. Stein’s eyes fell sleepily, as a relieved sigh fell from his chapped lips. He leaned into the touch, his head falling onto her shoulder.

As she continued her motions in his hair, she observed as the man clearly tried desperately to stay awake. He continually forced his eyes open, only for his eyes to roll back into his tired head once more.

“You’re allowed to fall asleep on me, you know.”

Stein could only respond just barely with a groggy sound of acknowledgment. A small smile appeared on Marie’s face. Stein has always been, in an extremely strange and unconventional way, adorable in her eyes. Like a violent, dangerous and cornered stray kitten, that you can’t help but find cute.

Stein finally allowed his eyes to remain shut, and his breathing to even out. His chest rose and fell slowly and softly. Even in sleep, there was a dead and creepy vibe about him. But Marie found it endearing. Perhaps she was wearing rose-colored glasses. She couldn’t care less.

She continued to play with his hair, even whilst he slept. She hoped that it would grant him good dreams and a peaceful rest. Perhaps even a decent rest for once in his life. She also felt like giving him affection. She thought he probably hadn’t experienced much at all in his life.

She watched as he slept, and began to grow a bit sleepy herself. She rested her head on his head and closed her eyes.

She herself drifted off into the land of dreams, as she thought about how odd it was that she found such a crazy and downright psychopathic guy to be adorable.

[mrsaltieri-real]

His Perfect Victim (Mickey Altieri X OC!Dahlia Levine)

Chapter 3: Rejection

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, talks of Dahlia dying, mentions of stabbing and scarring, Mickey being an asshole, smut, p in v, jealousy, angst

Chapter 3! It isn’t as long as I initially planned but it just ended at the perfect spot I didn’t feel the need to drag it out any further. God I love this series so much it’s ridiculous but I’m really going to be putting poor Dahlia through it. Thank you to @bisexual-horror-fan for editing and beta reading this once again! My fucking star!

God, what the fuck was wrong with me?

I stood a foot or so away from the door, many people chatting and drinking away cheerfully around me in a haze of noise and blurred figures as I remained hesitating. How long have I been here? A minute? Five minutes? An hour? Time seemed to have no meaning as I listened to the bouncing music coming from inside Sid and Hallie’s dorm room, the loud laughter and shouting.

It was all uncomfortably familiar.

Suddenly the door swung open and out stumbled Hallie, evidently already plastered, who grinned eagerly when she saw me.

Hands out she exclaims with a smile, “Dahlia! You came! Randy owes me twenty bucks.”

I was immediately engulfed in a warm embrace by Hallie the minute I walked into her dorm room, unable to stop my body from automatically tensing defensively. I consciously knew she wouldn’t hurt me, but my subconscious was immediately put in self preservation mode. Hallie seemed too drunk to notice as she pulled back, an even bigger smile on her face.

“Come in, have a drink!” Hallie finally released me after what felt like an eternity and I smiled half-heartedly at her. I definitely needed a drink if I was going to get through tonight.

I hadn’t been to a party since Stu’s in Woodsbro the night everything changed. In that moment glancing at all the unfamiliar faces I felt painfully aware of that fact, half expecting some jackass in a Ghostface costume to leap out at me no matter how ridiculous that may sound.

Hallie had wandered off to greet more guests, leaving me alone to make a beeline toward the large table full of drinks, eyes scanning the array of booze for whichever would get me drunk the fastest.

“Look who actually turned up.”

I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes. I hadn’t even been here two minutes and he’d already found me. I refused to turn and look at him, lifting a red solo cup from the stack and tapping the tops of the bottles for something that sounded at least appetising.

“May I?” His voice floods my ears and I suppress the urge to sigh. This time I did look up at him with a slightly raised brow. “You the connoisseur of cheap booze?”

Mickey laughed a little, shaking his head at me before replying, “I just have an idea of what people like. See,” My eyes followed his finger that now pointed over to Randy, who was sitting chatting to a group of people with his drink gripped in one hand as he waved his other hand around in manic gestures clearly in a deep discussion, “I made Randy a Gimlet.”

“What the fucks a Gimlet?” I muttered, toying with the cup in my hands.

Mickey laughed again, dropping his hand and looking back at me before explaining, “Simple syrup, lime juice and gin shaken over ice. He can’t handle his booze but likes to make it look like he can so it’s pretty perfect for him. Sidney-“ His eyes flickered over to where Sid was standing in the corner with Derek, laughing at something he said, “- Whiskey sour, of course. She’s complex.” I nodded my head, somehow that made perfect sense for her.

“Okay, what about Hallie?” I asked, squinting my eyes to try and make out what she had in her hand as she stood chatting to a few girls. I loosely registered the smell of rum and lime on her breath before her unwelcome embrace.

He made a move of his hand towards her direction as he said, “Hal? I made her an AMF.”

Eyebrows pinched together as I questioned him curiously, “AMF?”

“Adios Motherfucker.” He smiled slightly as he leaned closer.

I couldn’t help but smile back. That was somehow absolutely perfect for her even without context.

“And Derek?” I asked, nodding over in his direction.

“Are you kidding? Beer. He’s a frat bro, you think he’s gonna let me make him a fucking cocktail?” Mickey rolled his eyes, lifting his drink to his lips. It was hard to look away as he took a sip, his tongue darting out and licking the leftover liquid from his lips. I couldn’t help but ask, “And you? What have you got?”

He offered his drink to me and I hesitated for a moment. A soft laugh before he said flatly, “I haven’t got the fucking herp, Dahl.”

I felt my cheeks heat up at his nickname, quickly taking his drink so I could hide my face in it only to be taken by surprise at the overwhelming but delicious taste and aroma of mint, “A Mojito?”

“You look surprised. What, a man can’t enjoy a cocktail?” His hand rose to his chest in mock offence and I couldn’t help but smile again, handing him his cup back.

“You think you can make me one then?” I asked curiously before pressing on further, “You hardly know me.”

He sounded confident as he asserted, “I’m intuitive, I’m sure I can work out what you like even with our limited interaction. Unless of course you want me to get to know you better first?”

Was he flirting with me?

I looked at him blankly for a second before diverting my eyes down. He didn’t miss a beat, immediately changing the subject back to the drink, “You know what a Paloma is?” As he spoke, he took the cup from my hands, his warm fingers touching mine for just a second making my hand jolt back, an action he seemingly chose to ignore, “Tequila, lime juice, grapefruit soda,” With every ingredient he listened he free poured them into the cup until the drink was prepared, handing it to me with a flourish, “Can't exactly salt the rim but here.”

I took the drink from his hand, sniffing it suspiciously before taking a small sip, only to be surprised at how delicious it was.

“Wow.” I mumbled, taking a larger sip.

“Easy,” He chuckled, moving to make himself another drink, “I’m already gonna have to end up carrying Randy to bed. I don't want to have to carry you too.”

I paused for a second before forcing myself to look up at him and meet his eyes, asking with sudden bold curiosity, “What did you mean earlier?”

He looked genuinely surprised at my question, his hands pausing over the bottles as he glanced at me before asking, “What?“

I explained, “Earlier today, you said I’m not going to be able to stay away from you. What did you mean?”

He was quiet for a moment, returning to assemble his drink before walking to the free couch next to the table, raising his hand to the side for me to sit beside him to which I did so.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, just that we’re in the same social circle. I admit to being an ass when we first met, so I do apologise for that. It was just… interesting to meet you.”

I didn’t miss the emphasis he put on the word “Interesting.” It made me pause, eyeing him suspiciously. He wasn’t looking at me, his eyes set into the corner of the room as though I wasn’t even there. “What do you mean interesting?”

He blinked, drink rising up to his lips again as I waited impatiently for his reply only to wish I never asked, “Not everyday I meet someone like you.” He responded simply with a subtle curve of his lips.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

Mickey leaned back on the couch, hand resting on his knee as he turned his head to look at me, eyes doing that stupid once over on me that I was growing to hate. Then he said it. “Someone who's supposed to be dead.”

My mouth fell open with a plop at how candidly he said it, staring at him in disbelief. Just when I thought he could be sweet.

“I’m sorry, supposed to be dead? The fact I fucking died is interesting to you?“ I snapped, the alcohol making me bolder than I usually would be.

Or was it the alcohol? Or was it yet again Mickey somehow awakening the parts of me I thought would never see the light of day again? The anger bubbling in my stomach was distantly familiar and honestly, it felt really fucking good.

Mickey groaned, head falling back against the back of the couch. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. Fucking hell you’re so sensitive Dahl. Bit of a lightweight, no?”

“Dahlia.” I wanted to shout at him, not appreciating the new nickname he seemed to have branded me with.

“Jesus, fine. Dahlia.” He said my name dripping with sarcasm before he quickly finished his drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before continuing, “You’ve gotta stop being so damn oversensitive about shit. Your little broken bird act is kind of getting old to be honest.”

“Oh God, Mickey! I’m so sorry that I’m not living up to your fucking expectations. What do you want from me? Your fascination with the fact I died is really fucking creepy.” I couldn’t help but spit the words out at him. I was only slightly aware that people were beginning to look at us but for once, I didn’t care. I knew he was just trying to get a rise out of me and fuck, it was working.

“Oh, come on.” He laughed, a real laugh, raising his palms up, “You walk around campus like a ghost, you hardly speak to anybody except Sid and Randy, why?”

What was the use in trying to argue with this guy? I sighed, slouching back on the couch and closing my eyes, anger lessening, something more akin to sadness overtakes while I answered him, “They’re the only ones who understand.” I said quietly.

I felt him move to sit back next to me, feeling his eyes on my face although I refused to open them. He stayed quiet for once, waiting for me to continue.

“I don’t like you but I’ll be honest with you-“ I heard him let out a stifled laugh before I continued, “- I’m assuming you know Billy Loomis was Sidney’s boyfriend. Well, it’s lesser known who his accomplice was to me. We don’t share a last name and hell, we look absolutely nothing alike, but Stu Macher was my cousin. I loved him like a brother so when he just stood by and watched that stupid asshole drive a knife into my stomach-“ My fingers automatically touched the healed over wound over the material of my shirt and I winced, not in pain but at the memory before I continued, “- And I died, I’m pretty sure the part where I can… Feel went with me.”

Mickey was silent as he intently listened to me speak before I felt his hand clasp over mine that was still tracing my scar through my shirt, making my eyes snap open and look at him as I asked him in an undeniably self conscious tone, “What?”

“Nothing, I just think that’s the most I’ve heard you talk since I’ve known you.”

His face was close to mine, slightly tilted back as his head rested on the cushions behind him and mine did the same.

Now this feeling was new.

I saw his eyes drop to my lips for a brief moment before looking back into mine. Did I want this? Did I want him?

My mind started to race and my heart began to thud unsteadily in my chest as I watched his tongue swipe his bottom lip as he leaned forward. I could feel the pulse in my ears as I froze in place, unable to make my body move.

Fight or flight, fight or flight?

In a second, I made a decision.

I shot to my feet, dropping my empty cup to the floor and stumbling back a little, my eyes wide and his shown surprise. For the first time I saw a flash of an emotion that wasn’t sarcastic or pissed but I couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly what it was.

“Dahlia?” He asked, looking slightly concerned.

“You can’t just do that!” I hissed, hands shaking a little as my eyes flickered around my surroundings. Thank God, nobody was looking.

He leaned forward, his posture significantly less relaxed as he questioned, “Jesus, do what?”

You rushed out, “Lean forward and try to… Kiss me like that!”

Mickey looked at me blankly for a moment before his head fell back and he let out a loud, obnoxious laugh before managing to get out, “Are you fucking kidding me? You thought I was trying to kiss you? We were just having a conversation, Dahlia. How self involved are you?”

Of course, I know now Mickey isn’t used to not getting what he wants. He had grown accustomed to girls tripping over themselves to fuck him and the fact I didn’t, the fact I went out of my way to get away from him? He hates it. I could tell in that moment with the way he laughed but his eyes were blazing that he had an edge to him. I suppose that should’ve been one of many red flags.

Instead I scoffed at him, grabbing a random bottle of booze from the table before stalking off to go drink in peace.

I settled down on a chair in what I guess was supposed to be the communal living room, crossing my legs and eagerly knocking back the rum in my hand straight from the bottle.

“Jesus, Dahlia.”

I glanced up and saw a tipsy Randy flop down beside me, his drink spilling over the side of his cup as he did so but he didn’t seem to notice, eyes on me as he spoke, “Going hard, huh? What’s up?”

“Mickey.” I muttered simply.

“Ah.” Randy was quiet for a moment, looking at me thoughtfully.

Randy and I had what you would call and sandbox friendship. We met in kindergarten when he’d attempted to snatch a toy from my hand and I’d smacked him over the head with it in retaliation. I can’t really remember what led to it, but after that we became inseparable. We got “married” at recess with Sid and Tatum officiating but it was just childish fun and games. I of course loved him, but it was never romantic in any way.

During my time in the hospital, he visited every single day. During this time I wasn’t talking much so we just watched movies until visiting hours were up, he’d go home and then come back the next day to do it all over again. Never horror. He knew me well enough to know that after everything with Billy and Stu, for me at least real life was scary enough.

“Is he giving you a hard time?” Randy asked, rolling his head to look at me, he said in a more serious tone, “Ignore him, okay? Mickey can be an ass.”

“Oh, I know.” I muttered, bringing the bottle to my lips once more, “Such a fucking ass.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Randy’s eyebrows shoot up and I sighed, “What?”

He shrugged, “Nothing. It’s just I haven’t heard you speak with venom like that in… Fuck, forever. It’s disconcerting.”

I looked at Randy, a deep frown on my face as I asked, “What do you mean?”

“No, I don’t mean anything by it. I don’t know what Mickey did or said but I’ve gotta say, he really brings the fire out in you, you know?”

I dropped my eyes to the bottle in my hand, fingernails tapping lightly on the glass. I knew Randy was right. Whenever I was around Mickey he just revived me somehow. As annoying and infuriatingly difficult he was, there was no way I could dispute that fact.

In the space of a month I’d felt more irritation and fire than I’d probably felt in my entire life. Honestly, I never thought I’d feel anything again.

What was it about him?

I lifted my head as I heard footsteps approaching Randy and I and looked up to see Sidney hastily walking over to us.

“Dahlia, Mickey’s looking for you. He’s in my room, said he wanted to find you to apologise or something?” She shrugged a little, hand waving down the hall and toward hers and Hallie’s shared room.

I frowned, my grip on the bottle tightening which Randy seemed to notice as he asked, “You want me to come with?”

“No, no.” I mumbled, starting to stand up before the room spun a little. I blinked, feeling myself fall back on the couch and Randy quickly gripped my arm with a small, nervous laugh. “How much of that have you had?”

I shook my head as I mumbled, “I’m fine.”

Sidney looked at me, soulful brown eyes doubtful. “We all know you’re a lightweight Dahlia. Maybe Randy and I should take you back to your dorm.”

“I’m okay, honest.” In truth, I really just wanted to hear Mickey apologise to me. Who knew he was capable? “What number is your dorm?”

Sidney told me her dorm room number and I felt both her and Randy watching me cautiously as I slowly walked away, trying my best to walk in a straight line. Fuck, I really was a lightweight. Was it down to Mickey’s strong ass cocktail or the straight rum? Probably the straight rum.

My hands both rested on the walls as I walked down the corridor, eyes blurring as I blinked unseeingly at the number of the doors until I found Sidney’s.

I heard muffled voices coming from the other side of the door and infringed a little, hand hesitating on the door knob. Even hammered, something felt off. I didn’t know Mickey that well, but I did know he wasn’t one to apologise.

Fuck it.

I turned the door handle and pushed the door open, eyes widening and mouth falling open and the sight before me.

A blonde girl was lying face down, ass up on what I assumed to be Sidney’s bed without a stitch of clothing on her. She was gasping and moaning into the mattress beneath her, and who else would be behind her? Mickey.

He had her arms behind her back, one of his hands circling her wrists and the other gripping her hip, pulling her back as he thrusted into her. His head was back, groaning softly before it fell forward and he released her wrists, moving his hand up her back until it found her hair and twisting it around his fist, yanking it back so she was sat up, her head leaning on his shoulder as she gasped out, “Oh my fucking God Mickey, please don’t stop!“ with her eyes screwed up tight and her chest heaving. I saw her face and for some reason it seemed to bother me to see how attractive the girl was.

His eyes opened and met mine from over her shoulder, quickly roaming over my stunned form before he smiled.

He fucking smiled, a sick and almost depraved smile directly at me, a slight upturn of his shoulders before he mouthed, “Fuck you” to me as he pushed the writhing, moaning girl down on her stomach. His fingers kneeding the soft flesh of her ass as he continued fucking her, his eyes now never leaving mine as I remained frozen at the door.

Walk away, walk away! Why the fuck are you stood watching this shit?

The voice in my head was screaming at me until she was finally loud enough for me to listen. I turned on my heel, quickly slamming the door behind me.

What the fuck?

Why would he tell Sid he wanted to apologise to me if he was busy fucking some slut in her bed? Why would he want me to see that?

I was clearly drunk because I could feel tears burning my eyes, and I wasn’t sure if they were out of anger or something else. I shook out my head, hands coming up to tap on my cheeks lightly in an attempt to snap myself out of it as I heard Mickey let out another loud laugh and the girl let out an even louder cry of what I could only assume to be pleasure.

Guess this is how he acts when he gets rejected.

What a fucking asshole.

Chapter Four HERE

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

Self-Reflection🪞

   Day 25 & 26, Blame and Fic Switch 

Aftermath of my Sidney Rewrite Episode. Danny’s in his room, reflecting on what happened and the things he wished he could’ve done. I dont normally do fics so I hope I atleast got a clear message in this.

TW, mentions of blood, violence and death.

Here's a link to my Rewrite Episode and take on Sidney design, character and how he died

          “I’m sorry Sid”, Danny said to himself solemnly, in his room holding Sid’s broken glasses, they got fairly damaged from…the incident. After the traumatic experience and damage caused in the school, the students were sent home for at least a week. While ghost attacks became a common thing, especially at Casper High, this one was especially frightening, no one, especially Danny saw what Sid did coming. He can still remember being chased like a little bug, seeing the fear in his own eyes from Sid’s giant reflective form, when he saw Dash's face get-he shakes his head, trying to get those horrific memories out. He can’t deal with those graphic details today. He’s just too tired, laying himself on his bed, he stares blankly at the ceiling.

          His friends, his family, even Lancer tried to assure Danny none of it was his fault, how could he have known it would all end up like this, how could he have been able to save Dash from something like that, he wasn’t even anywhere near the fight(or so his parents and teacher believed). He even tries to reassure himself, he shouldn’t blame himself but deep down he can’t help but wonder constant what ifs. What if he didn’t let or had been more careful about letting a ghost help prank on Dash and the other mean kids, knowing his backstory, what if he had listen to his friends sooner when they were worried he was getting carried away, what if he had tried talking to Sid better when he did wonder that himself. What if he didn’t let things get so out of hand…he couldn’t fix things.

Flashback of Sid and Danny talking. Sid’s dialogue, the darker words:

        “ What do you mean this is getting out of hand? Not like anything’s being tied back to us, right?”.

    “ I know, I know, Sid. It’s just some of these pranks have been pretty mean, even for them”.

“ It’s called giving them a a taste of their own medicine Danny. If it was the other way around, you’d think they’d be worrying about being too mean with you? They clearly haven’t thought that to begin with”.

“ Yeah, fair point. It’s just my friends seemed pretty worried and-

“ Ah you’re friends are just being brainwashed by flowery fables that those stupid teachers and the school tell you like “be the bigger person” or “being mean to them makes you just as mean” and other crud ike that. They just teach you to be as worthless as they are”.

“Hey, my friends aren’t worthless! And I get a lot of teachers can be jerks but there’s also plenty that at least try to help(thinks of Lancer). I like to think so.

“ I’m sure that’s what he'd tried to tell you, along with one of his dumb book swears. Seriously most haven't even heard of those books in years, especially not kids-he sees Danny becoming really uncomfortable and starts regulating himself. 

“ Sorry, sorry. I'm sure the people you're talking about truly mean well. I was just getting a little heated over there(brings back bad memories) I just know when you try to be nice and let things go, they usually don’t really care and just go back to their old nature. I just wanna make sure they learn their lesson for good. You know I’m just trying to look out for ya, right? 

         “ y-yeah ofcourse. You’re not wrong, it’s just not sure how long we can keep doing all these pranks, I am pretty busy with other stuff”.

“ Then maybe we should do one final, epic prank! The ultimate prank to teach all the mean kids you don’t mess with nerds! Revenge of the Nerds!

“ YEAH! though Def no revenge of the nerds 80′s style, those guys went WAY too far”.

“ Well it’s a good thing this Daddy-O’s from the 50′s! So I’ve been thinking what if-

Back to the present:

     As Danny remembers that conversation, he starts to realize he missed certain red flags such as Sid's growing mean streak...and the little cracks he was trying to hide on his skin. And then, there’s Dash, he got it much worse, being the main target for Sidney’s revenge hunt. Had to be sent to the hospital to get treatment for his injuries and stitches for that bad cut Sid’s pincer left on him, still remembers when the blood spilled on- Danny shakes from that experience. Good chance that mark will stay for a long time.

     He wishes it didn’t take him having a full emotional breakdown from all those brutal revenge pranks they pulled and almost dying trying to protect him(Danny) from Sid’s wrath to realize that for all his many, many faults, he’s not really a bad person and didn’t deserve to almost die. He can't even properly apologize to him, not without risking his identity being exposed.

     Danny lays back on his bed, breathing out a sigh of guilt and exhaustion. Part of why he wasn’t more willing to acknowledge and try to talk to Sid more was because, outside of Sam and Tucker, he doesn’t have a lot of friends. Then he met Sid who not only understood his problems but enjoyed hanging out with, sharing each others different time pleasures(like Egg-creams), talking about sci-fi films, when they did harmless pranks...at first. He was so worried about losing a new friend, he ended up losing him anyway, the worst way possible. In a way, he made a similar mistake to what the people in Sid’s life made. They ignored him and his problems until they became too big to fix. Thinking about it, Sid’s first failed plan in a twisted way, might've worked, in terms of making his bully regret everything. Doubt he had it easy after being known as the guy who accidentally killed one of his fellow classmates.

     As he takes his eyes off the rotating ceiling fan back to Sid's broken glasses, seeing his own reflection from them, he starts to consider. He can’t reverse what happened, but he can atleast make sure what happened to Sid is better acknowledged rather than just try to forget what happened like they did. Regardless of what was and what wasn't his fault, he still wants to make things right. Or atleast try to.

He props himself up to go check some stuff on his laptop such as memorials and finding perhaps some flowers and a card to send to Dash at the hospital. After what happened, it’s highly doubtful anyone would want to use that locker anymore. But maybe it could be used for something else, to remember Sid's story in a clearer light. Give his friend some peace.

As he looks at pictures of locker memorials, he calls Tucker, holding Sid’s broken glasses

“ Yeah I’m doing good too, thanks Do you know how to fix up cracked glasses?”

The End. 

What do u think? I'd love to know💖

[my-name-is-siduri]

Sid's GenLoss thoughts, or, how Vinny is the key to all this

gif by hackerling

As I mentioned in my last post, I really don't know who anyone in GenLoss is outside of Jerma and Vinny. But I was immediately invested when I saw it was filled with lore.

I haven't seen too many people talk about gl!Vinny, so I figured I'd make my contribution by talking him in particular. (Spoilers, obviously.)

The carousel.

Vinny is an outlier in episode 2, both in his actions and how others react to him. We see this as soon as Ranboo first enters the carousel room. While there is urgency in Vinny's voice, he doesn't seem nearly as panicked as the others. Compare and contrast how everyone else acts while the carousel is turning:

To how Vinny acts:

For most of the carousel sequence, Vinny is quiet and distant. He doesn't address or even look at the camera when he passes by it on the carousel. The most we get after Ranboo first arrives is as he leaves, but in both instances Vinny's shouts are almost half-hearted.

Then there's his introduction.

The title on this clip upload is inaccurate. Unlike all the others, Vinny makes no attempt to beg for his life. He doesn't beg to be freed or try to escape. Vinny just tells us he's useful because he's a hoarder and spends the rest of the time listing the things he's hoarded. Even after becoming 'the taken', Sneeg still mentioned that looks forward to the chance of staying alive.

But Vinny doesn't do any of that, nor does he does it appear that he wants to. He just wants to talk about something else. Plug and plays. Wooden ducks. Anything other than surviving and escaping.

Vinny doesn't speak much while chat solves the pipe puzzle, but there is one thing he says that stands out: "I welcome death at this point."

Vinny's reaction to death, and the candy room.

As Vinny climbs out of the tunnel and stands up, he pauses and looks at Niki's body.

See clip here.

Although he's not as animated or dramatic as the others, Vinny is clearly shocked that she's dead. He questions why Ranboo and Sneeg are so focused on candy and Mouse Trap while Niki is dead on the floor. Of course, both Ranboo and Sneeg have been heavily brainwashed at this point, while Vinny likely hasn't. Curiously, after they brush off Niki's body, Vinny seems to brush it off too. While it may be that self-awareness only comes in bits and spirts, I think it's more likely (as we'll see later on) that Vinny was still aware and decided it was best to play along.

The other two moments in the candy room are interesting as well. Vinny takes Sneeg's suggestion and tastes a piece of candy, only to spit it out with disgust. "You're eating this stuff?" As others have pointed out, the candy is definitely not candy, but we don't know what it really is. All we know is that it didn't taste good.

And finally, Vinny makes one more comment before they leave the candy room: "What am I even doing in here?" To which, Ranboo can't give an answer.

From this point on, I'm going to skip ahead to Vinny's death and work my way backwards.

Reaction to Vinny's Death, and the laser room.

One of the few times we see Ranboo and Sneeg react to what's happening around them is moments before Vinny's dummy hits the ceiling.

It's curious that they have such a strong reaction. They did nothing as Niki screamed for help and let her die. When Ethan dies later on, they give no reaction. And Ranboo simply moves on when Austin and Sneeg are crushed to death.

But here they are, screaming at him hitting the ceiling. And when Vinny dies, they flinch at the sight. It was a subdued reaction, yes, but it was more than could be said for the others, except for maybe Slimetowel. Even afterwards, when they pass by Vinny's body, they're still uncomfortable by the sight.

Whatever really happened to Vinny was so shocking that pierced through all of their mind-control and scared them.

(By the way, this doesn't quite tie into the bigger theory I'm getting at here, I just thought it was interesting.)

"Goddamnit."

Out of all the on-screen deaths, Vinny is the calmest about his.

Niki cries after she's shot and completely breaks down before being shot again. Ethan screams at whatever it is that happened to him behind the fake wall. Austin and even Sneeg scream as they're crushed by the wall.

But Vinny? Sure, he does yell as he flies through the air and hits his head against the ceiling, but it hardly compares to the sheer horror the others experienced. When he realizes that he's about to die, all he does is lean his head back, says "Goddamnit", and lets the comically tiny anvil crush his head.

If anything, Ranboo and Sneeg have more of a reaction than Vinny does. Vinny is resigned and accepts his fate. Hell, he smiles just before they throw him. And those things he said before: "I welcome death at this point." "What am I even doing in here?"

How is Vinny so apathetic to what's happening without being forced to? Well…

"Guys, don't worry about it. I got this. I've done it before."

When presented with the laser room, Ranboo and Sneeg are at a loss (haha) on how to solve the puzzle. Vinny confidently tells them he's done it before. Ranboo tries to ask what he means by that, but Vinny doesn't elaborate and simply tells them that they need to throw him across the room. (I'll be fully honest, the reason I think that line is important and intentional is because it sounded like he was reciting a script word for word rather than him naturally speaking LOL)

He might be implying that this has happened during one of his funny stories like whatever happened at the wooden duck factory…but I think it's a lot more literal than that.

Repetition is a theme in GenLoss. In fact, it's what 'generation loss' means in the first place: repetition until degradation. Several people seem to have gone through trials before they happen, such as Slimesicle having a part of the Mouse Trap puzzle inside his 'slime.' And wait…didn't Slimesicle and Sneeg die on Day 1?

Everyone being held captive by Showfall has done this before. They've been trapped, put through puzzles, failed to escape, and died.

For whatever reason, Vinny remembers this. He knows the puzzles' solutions. He knows when he's not supposed to be on-screen. He knows that they've failed to escape before, and he's just biding his time until his next death.

But what if he's just being mind-controlled the way Sneeg is, you ask? He's not. Things aren't completely censored for him. He was shocked when he saw Niki dead. He found the not-candy to be revolting. He's still aware of the horrors going on around him. He's just desensitized because he's gone through it before, and he'll probably go through it again.

For a brief moment, however, something different happened. He got through the lasers farther than he ever has before. It's different than before. He smiles. "I made it!"

"Goddamnit."

[leggerefiore]

Now we need to hear about the adventures of adopted Arven!

Not really stories of adopted Arven but more Arven basically getting adopted.

cw: spoilers for scarviol, not really reader centric

-----

When Inka had returned home from the academy for the holidays, you had expected her to bring a friend over with her. What you had not expected was for him to be so tall and clearly uncomfortable with the situation. For a moment, you worried that your niece had forced it on him, but she was quick to explain that Arven had a tough upbringing. You nodded. The boy had explained that he wanted to visit Unova to experience the different kinds of food native to the region. You chuckled a bit.

He and Ingo would probably get along great. Your husband had, after all, taken up cooking soon after you started dating and then proceeded to overload it with the introduction of Erin. As you chatted with both of them about their school year and newly developed interests, Erin's Skitty, Taffy, made her grand appearance to harass the new person with demands for pets and attention. The little, pink feline basically hopped up to him and sniffed his hand. Suddenly, her fur puffed up, and she rushed back, hissing. Arven was mortified by her reaction.

“He has a dog,” Inka explained. Ah. That made sense.

~

“… As you might know, one of the most popular dishes of Unova is our Castelia-styled pizza,” Ingo began to tell the long-haired boy, “It's impossible to recreate unless you have the right equipment.” He had missed the introduction of Arven as he had been at work covering for Emmet. His younger brother had needed, in his own words, to take the day off and spend time with his darling little girl who had been overseas. Ingo was not going to deny his brother time with his daughter, just as Emmet would not do the same for him and Erin. Still, however, it made trying to get to know this teen a bit difficult.

“How did your parents handle you wanting to visit Unova with just a friend?” Ingo decided to ask, “I know I would be extremely worried for Erin, but he's still a small child…” Arven tensed up at his words. The older twin immediately knew he had hit a sensitive topic with the dirty-blond. “I apologise, I should have taken into account that I am unfamiliar with your parenting situation,” Ingo set out to correct his behaviour, “I do hope being here helps you feel more at ease. If you need someone to talk with, I am always available.”

“… You work a lot, right?” Arven asked him with averted eyes. Ingo nodded. His job was a time-consuming one, but something that had to be done. “Do you leave Erin alone to fend for himself?” he continued. The Subway Boss froze up.

“N-never!” he shouted out, eyes wide, “My son is one of my most beloved people. I would never leave him alone for such long periods of time.” Arven seemed still discontented by his words and gazed out the window at the city. Ingo's stomach felt like it was being engulfed by a black hole. Had Arven's parents done that to him? Ingo could not even imagine. Even when his father had taken up long hours working in his youth, his mother had been there in his absence. If you had to leave for a few hours, Ingo would immediately work to find a way to be there for Erin.

He may only have a few weeks to make an impression on Arven, but Ingo swore to himself that he would.

~

“What's a 'Paldea'?” Erin asked his cousin's weird, tall friend. Arven cut his eyes to the boy. Then softened when he saw how genuine his face was. “Dad said you're from Paldea and Uncle said that's where Inka has been. Is Paldea a building?” Arven held back laughter at the kid's genuine confusion. He had heard Unovans were quite a bit more isolated than the rest of the world, but this certainly proved it.

“Paldea is a region, like Unova,” he told Erin, “I am Paldean, you are Unovan.” Erin nodded. The silver-haired boy's eyes moved to stare at Mabosstiff, who laid pitifully on the ground at his feet. The canine would have preferred his side on the couch, but Arven did not want to cause any discord in the home.

“Is your doggie Paldean?” Erin asked, clearly entranced with this new knowledge, “Does Paldea have a language? Is it like how Unovan's speak Galarian, but we're not Galarian?” Arven seriously debated responding to all his questions in Paldean to tease him, but resisted. He could tell it would go right over the boy's head and lead to more confusion.

“Mabosstiff is a Paldean pokemon, Paldeans speak Paldean, and Galar is where your language comes from,” he explained. The kid appeared enlightened.

“You are smarter than my dad!” he cheered. Arven's heart felt both warm and hurt by his words. Knowing your dad seemed like such a blessing to him. Erin's face suddenly turned dead serious. “C-can I pet your doggie?” he inquired nervously, eyes once again on Mabosstiff. He chuckled. Nodding, he set to work on teaching Erin how to properly introduce himself to the dog. The boy held out his hand eagerly, while Mabosstiff gave a few curious sniffs before a polite lick. Erin then reached a tentative hand to pet his head. Mabosstiff met the boy half-way and raised his head for him.

His tail wagged eagerly, and Arven could tell Mabosstiff liked him enough. “Heehee, he's like a Stoutland,” Erin giggled as he bravely moved to scratch behind his ears. Arven smiled at them.

Unaware was he that Ingo had watched the whole scene.

~

Arven sat on the couch, feeling a bit lonely. Inka had apologised for leaving him alone for the day, but her twin sister had been insistent that they go out and do something together. Emma was polite and kind, but clearly had dearly missed her sister in their time apart. He had often heard twins get terrible lonely when separated, so he supposed it was best to just let them have their time together. Unovan shows failed to entertain him, and it was too late into the night back in Paldea to message anyone there. (Maybe outside of Penny, but he was not wanting an Eeveelution spam right now.)

“Are you alright?” a voice called out and made him nearly jump out of his skin. Ingo had entered the living room without him noticing. He had clearly just got off from work, judging by his attire. “I do apologise from frightening you, but you were wearing such a sad expression.” The older man sat down on the opposite side of the couch. Arven felt a bit amazed. He supposed he had got used to never having a parent come home by the evening that he had stopped expecting it to happen.

“Ah, just feeling a bit lonely,” he decided to be honest, “Time zone differences leave everyone back home asleep right now.” Ingo nodded.

“Ah, yes, I do recall Emmet crying that it was too late to call Inka around this time when she was in Paldea,” he replied, “Well, would you like to help me prepare dinner?” Dinner? Like, actual cooking? Arven was stunned.

“Didn't you just get off from work? Aren't you tired?” Arven unconsciously felt the words slip out. Ingo cocked a brow up at him.

“I'll admit I am a bit tired, yes,” Ingo spoke clearly, “But my spouse is out helping my friend with her gym leader related issues and Erin is likely getting hungry again. His after-school snack was just a few pecha berries. He needs proper nutrients, as do you and me.”

“You're dedicated…” he sighed, “I'll help you. Could you teach me a something local?” Ingo nodded and stood up. Arven followed the man into the kitchen, where he saw Erin sitting at the table. Taffy was curled up in his lap, purring.

“¡Hola!” he suddenly said, and Arven tilted his head, “¿Cómo ah-stás?” That brought a laugh out of him. Oh, he tried his best.

“G-good attempt, little buddy,” he walked over and pat his head, “Where'd you pick that up?”

“My friend at school said she was Paldean! I asked her to teach me some to show you!” Erin smiled sweetly. Ingo stood there and softly observed the exchange. He might have come across as rude and distant at first, but had come to be obvious that he simply was uncomfortable being in a new place.

“He's been babbling on and on about Paldea since you told him,” Ingo opened the refrigerator to pull out ingredients, “He's been dying to impress you since you first arrived.” Arven felt his face fluster when he heard Erin's whiny 'daaaad' leave him. Impress him? Why? “Erin, are you wanting to help cook or just watch? I'm teaching Arven today, so I suggest just sitting this one out, alright?” The boy nodded and went back to doting on his cat. “Are you ready, Arven?” He nodded.

The teen soon found himself learning hot to make hamburgers quite aggressively. It was also then, he learnt that Unovans truly did enjoy grease. Whether or not this was truly full of nutrients evaded him, but it smells and look certainly appealed to his brain. They even made fries as a side, which led to more concerns about health. By the time the cooking was all finished, he found Emmet had joined Erin at the table.

Dinner was had with laughter and playful conversation. Alongside a train-related discussion, that Arven could not even begin to understand but was stunned even Erin could keep up with. He had recalled Inka's slight disappointment at Paldea's lack of a rail system. It all suddenly made sense now. By the end of the night, he felt himself flustered again when Ingo patted his back and complimented his technique. The loud 'bravo' really got to him.

~

Arven felt strange as he stood beside the man on a shopping trip. Ingo had gone out of his way to make him feel welcome and comforted. At first, he had been intimidated by his stiff expression and seemingly cold attitude, but that was quickly proven to be wrong by just how much the Subway Boss acted and spoke. Rather, it was Emmet that made him feel a bit threatened. (That had only been because he assumed that Arven was trying to date Inka when he was most certainly not. Upon having this explained, the younger twin lightened up, finally.)

“Is it hard being there for Erin?” Arven asked as he watched the people move over the railing. Nimbasa was endlessly busy with people seeking recreation from whatever ailed them in their day-today. Arven felt envious of them and Erin. The boy had two attentive parents who always tried their best for him. Even with a busy work-schedule, Ingo slowed down to be there for him. Much unlike his mother. And now she was… He bit his lip.

“Extremely,” Ingo answered, “I have no idea if I'm being a good father to him, and I worry about his development since he's so shy and awkward. I was like him, but I had Emmet to help me. He doesn't have anyone like that.”

“… I think you're a wonderful father, Ingo,” the teen told him while thinking back on all the interactions he had saw with Erin, “I wish I had a dad like you growing up. It would have been better… I don't even know who mine is.”

“… That's awful…” the older man mumbled out. Arven hated the pity, but he could tell it was something that deeply bothered Ingo. Someone who prided themself on being a caring parent would never like to hear about a bad one. “You're a wonderful person, Arven,” Ingo turned to him with gentle eyes, “Even with your hardships, you kept a kind heart. I think anyone could be proud of you and who you grew up to be. Please feel free to speak with me about any of your worries. I've got enough paternal affection to go around, according to my Depot Agents.” The soft pat on his back wasn't enough to settle the feelings that Ingo's words had stirred up in Arven's heart.

He hugged the silver-haired man tightly and thanked him for his kindness. The hug back was something that sent his mind to years back in the past, with his mother's smell of coffee stinging his nose when she had come home late from a research project. She apologised then for being so busy and offered to make him dinner. The AI's words about her always loving him haunted his mind. “… You're too kind, Ingo,” Arven managed to get out without hiccuping, “Erin really is lucky.”

~

Inka sighed as she sat beside Arven on the plane. He was staring at the photo her family and him had taken on Christmas. The way Ingo wrapped an arm around him made her curious, but she supposed that was between those two.

“Inka,” Arven spoke suddenly, “How is Ingo so fatherly while Emmet is so…” He did not know how to put it kindly. Ingo was polite in seeing them both off, giving a kind smile and hug. Meanwhile, Emmet clung to Inka for dear life, sobbing his eyes out about losing his little girl. He was a bit concerned, but Inka managed to shrug him off and board the plane.

“Papa is fatherly… in his own “Emmet” variety is how my other parent puts it,” she replied and recalled how clingy he was growing up. Arven nodded.

“He still thinks you're trying to date me,” she continued.

“Please correct him.”

“I did. He won't listen.”

[masontalo]

«Crow»

Friday. No one canceled the walk because they had seen each other before. It was business as usual again. Met at the usual place and walked to their place.

- I don't understand what their problem is too. Just walk by if the person hasn't done anything to you, - Vayt resented.

They began to have a discussion about ridicule, in school and in life. When exactly did their conversation turn to that?

- Yeah, - Farz replied, taking a sip of the beer Vayt had given him. - I still remember I was just walking home from work at night and some guy was harassing me about my height. Like, "Hey, shorty." But I was so tired at the time, I decided to just ignore it. I didn't want to waste my remaining energy on some bastard.

As Farz spoke, Vayt listened attentively. This discussion had been going on for more than half an hour. At Farz's last sentence, Vayt took a sip, then began:

- I remember I had a classmate who was always picking on me. He would call me short, or a gypsy, or somehow emphasize that I have no friends.

The second statement surprised Farz a little.

- Gypsy? Why? You don't look like one, and you don't steal anything.

- Well... - Vayt stretched, awkwardly looking away. - There was one reason he called me that.

He took a sip, not looking at Farz. He was clearly ashamed of something... or just uncomfortable about being called a gypsy. Perhaps he was hoping Farz wouldn't pay attention to it, so he said it. Farz sensed that Vayt wasn't eager to tell him about it, so he didn't even try to ask.

An awkward silence hung in the air. Only the sips of alcohol from the tin can were audible.

- You know... - Farz stretched out, finally breaking the silence. - I never had any friends at school, too.

Vayt frowned in bewilderment and looked at him.

- What about Sid?

Farz took a deep breath and looked away.

- He and I… - he stammered. - we weren't friends. The whole story is pretty weird and... I'll tell you about it sometime later.

Farz looked down at the ground and placed a hand on his forehead, leaning back on his knees. It was a rather unpleasant memory, though he rather just didn't want to tell Vayt about it so soon. He was afraid he'd seem too weak to him.

They fell silent again. They sat in that awkward silence again. Damn it!

But suddenly a crow landed in front of them. The most ordinary, black one, with beady eyes. Farz, as soon as he heard the sound of wings closing, immediately turned his attention to the bird.

- Hey, hello, - he said affectionately, stretching out his arms, lifting his fingers up and rubbing his fingers against each other as if he had something there in his hands to get the bird's attention. - come here.

The crow tilted her head to the side. It hopped closer to Farz, causing Vayt to move back, closer to the wall. The sudden movement caused the crow to fly a meter away. Farz noticed that Vayt was concerned about the crow.

- Are you afraid? - Farz asked in surprise, calling the crow to him again.

Vayt was silent for a while when the crow came closer to Farz and he began to stroke it.

- How can such a beauty be afraid? - said Farz, stroking the crow. - Too bad there's no food for it....

Vayt continued to stare at the picture in silence. He would have liked to sit further away, but the wall wouldn't let him.

After a couple minutes of stroking the crow, Farz noticed that Vayt was really concerned about the crow. He looked like he was really scared of it.

- Hey Vayt, are you okay? - Farz asked worriedly as he stopped stroking the crow.

- Yeah, I'm fine... - he replied. - It's just that I've had an unexplained fear of crows since I was a kid.

Suddenly the crow took off. The unexpected action of the bird made Vayt twitch and hit the back of his head against the wall behind him.

- Fuck! - he shouted reflexively.

The crow flew away, and Farz stared at Vayt with surprised eyes as he rubbed the back of his head.

- Are you afraid of birds? - Farz asked cautiously, trying not to offend Vayt.

- Crows, - he answered calmly, but the pain in the back of his head made his voice a little higher. - Only crows...

Farz frowned.

- But why? They're so beautiful and - he hesitated, trying to find a word. - mysterious.

As he spoke, Vayt wiped his face and the corners of his eyes with his hands, then sighed heavily.

- I don't know, I like owls more. Crows make me uncomfortable for some reason... I'm not saying I'm scared of them, but I'm just a little anxious. - He looked at Farz, who looked surprised by the statement and could have said anything. Vayt covered his face with his hand and looked away. - Is that weird?

Farz was silent for a while, wondering what to answer. It was rather unusual to see someone who was afraid of a certain kind of bird. But on the other hand, it was no reason for ridicule. Farz began to speak:

- No, it's not weird. Owls are cool too...

The last sentence he stretched out, Vayt lowered his hand, looking at Farz.

- Yeah, they're cool too. Their creepy stare and ability to spin their heads 270 degrees. And if you hear them in the woods at night, too, you can get... scared? - he continued, looking straight ahead.

It was so strange...only two months ago he had thought Vayt was weird, and now he was trying to convince him otherwise. They got along so fast. Vayt cared about Farz's well-being, and Farz was trying not to offend Vayt in conversation. Yes, there were dead ends in the conversations, but gradually the topics of conversation became more and more frank.

Vayt smiled softly.

- Do you even know exactly how many degrees they turn their heads?

Farz turned to him and shrugged.

- Yes, I read it somewhere when I was a kid and memorized it.

He looked up at the sky. It was beginning to get dark, and they were getting late again. A sudden thought occurred to Farz.

- Would you like to hang out on the roof next time? - He suddenly suggested, looking at Vayt.

The smile was replaced by surprise. Why such a suggestion? And so suddenly. Farz was going to get rid of him? Was he sick of him already?

- Why such an offer? - He asked cautiously.

Farz hesitated. He'd thought Vayt would just say yes or no; he hadn't expected such a question. Farz began to gibber awkwardly:

- Well, we hang out here a lot, and I thought we could change places for once. Plus, I thought you might like it...we could go there at night.

The whole time Farz was talking he looked away. He didn't want Vayt to misunderstand him. When he finished, he was able to look at Vayt with at least the corner of his eye. He was looking at Farz with a look that couldn't be read. It was neutral, but his eyelids lifted slightly, was it surprise? Vayt shifted his gaze to the side and furrowed his eyebrows.

- You know, I think that's a good idea, - he said, returning his gaze to Farz. - We could even get coffee somewhere beforehand, even if it's already cold.

- In that case... - Farz stretched out. - next Friday? How about nine o'clock?

- Yes, Friday at nine.

- I can pick you up. It'll be closer to walk from your house to that building.

- I don't mind, - Vayt said with a soft smile.

[tickldpnk8]

Season of Mists Reread Ch. 4

This post has taken me a lot longer to write because this story is just SO self-contained. It's a nice little ghost story of a diversion from the main plot of this arc. But as you all know, this reread of Sandman is focused on spotting things I didn't notice before, clues, and cosmology related to Dream's character growth and the overarching plot of the whole series. And this story...just doesn't have much on it.

So I cheated, and I listened to both the Endless and Hanging with the Dream King podcast episodes before I wrote this. (Usually, I write my posts before.) And then I sat with it some more and here's what I noticed.

First off, Death. What the heck is she up to?

In the last issue, we got this from her when Dream went to her for advice. And sure, maybe he wasn't being a good brother by considering that his sister might be a bit busy after Lucifer closed Hell. But what is she actually doing?? Because she clearly tells Charles that she's not here for Paine...she already took him. So presumably, she's not going around rounding up souls from Hell. This feels a bit like a plot hole to me, but who am I to question the anthropomorphic personification of the concept of death/life and what their priorities are in this moment?

And this is where I think At Death's Door actually did a really good job of filling in that plot hole. She can't take all these escaped souls anywhere, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have her work cut out for her. And let me just say that I love Death. But this one just feels a bit off for me. Still judging the sibling relationship.

Also, let's just take a moment to compare workout attire from 1990 and 2004:

Next up: Hell

So we know from Death (I forget which panel), that living things choose their afterlife. So if you feel like you deserve to go to Hell, then you go to Hell. We get this panel of Lucifer back in Chapter 2:

So once you've chosen to go to Hell, you also choose your own punishment. Now, in this issue we see a few of the folks who have ended up there. And I have questions...

First, the headmaster's mother who apparently has a strict mindset about sinful sex...yet also seems to have some questionable relations with her son. Fair enough. Sure. (Also which was worse in her mind: that she was forced into sex acts she was uncomfortable with, that she refused her husband sex, or that she was an accessory to her husband either commiting adultery or rape?)

And then there are these cases: suicide, drug overdose and murder. I think we can all agree on why these individuals might think they deserve Hell for their afterlife. Historically, belief systems have all sent these types of actions to the bad place.

But what about these souls? The matron lost two infants: one to SIDS as an infant and the other to a miscarriage.

I can’t honestly think that either of them would have chosen for themselves to go to Hell? Like wtf? And okay, some belief systems think that pregnancy out of wedlock is a sin. Did the mother send her unborn baby there?? Unbaptized babies don’t actually go to Hell in Catholicism, they go to limbo, so… I’m going to chalk these up to Gaiman wanting to up the creepy factor in his ghost story. Because these feel odd. I’ll be curious how they handle this one in season 2 of the show.

And then there’s Paine himself. Who never gives an indication of what he was like as a kid, but just mentions he was murdered.

But what we do get is his experience of the afterlife: 75 yrs of endless corridors being pursued by something out of sight. He even describes it as a type of nightmare. So we not only get confirmation that the experience of hell is personal. But we also get a blurred line between the dreaming and the afterlife. I think this just confirms for me how powerful Dream is, because his realm not only borders that of his siblings, but also some forms of the afterlife.

[project1939]

100+ Films of 1952

Film number 115: Lydia Bailey 

Release date: June 2nd, 1952 

Studio: 20th Century Fox 

Genre: historical adventure 

Director: John Negulesco 

Producer: Jules Schermer 

Actors: Dale Robertson, Anne Francis, William Marshall 

Plot Summary: In 1802 Haitians are fighting the French for their independence. Albion Hamlin, a white lawyer from the United States, arrives in Haiti to finalize the will of a rich American whose father’s estate was bequeathed to the US government. While there, he gets caught up in the battles between black Haitians and Napoleon’s forces. 

My Rating (out of five stars): ***¼ 

I’ll admit that I was hesitant to watch this, fearing it would be incredibly racist. I was pleased to discover that the film was surprisingly progressive in a lot of ways. First and foremost, the most compelling, heroic, and charismatic character in the whole film was a black man fighting for his country’s freedom and independence. The movie threw all its chips in with the black Haitians, even explicitly comparing their cause with the cause of U.S. independence. 

The Good: 

William Marshall as King Dick. He was the movie for me. (And, yes, I know- his character’s name can be giggle inducing today.) His character was, as I said above, a compelling and impressive leader. Marshall himself was a wonderful actor imbuing the character with charisma and an almost regal stature. I would have given the film a much lower rating if he wasn’t in it. 

The portrayal of freedom fighters. The black Haitians fighting the French were shown as having a worthy cause- they were the good guys. (There were some black characters that were fighting against our protagonists, and they were villainized, but not any worse than the French.) There was clearly an attempt to make American audiences see parallels with our own revolution. 

Black people were generally not dehumanized. Looking at the poster for the film, I worried the Haitians might be portrayed as a foreign “other” with little humanity, but for a film in 1952, this did a pretty good job of avoiding it- go to the Bad section for a caveat, though. 

It was exposure to history most Americans know very little about. 

It lacked “white saviorism.” The cast was majority black with a white protagonist, but it didn’t turn into a white savior film. Most of the white people were the bad guys. Hamlin wasn’t needed to save the Haitians or help them win the war; he played a minor part in it. King Dick and the real life General Toussaint Louverture were much more influential.  

The black characters were all played by black actors! 

There was a fun little nod to Ben Franklin’s womanizing ways. An older French woman tells Hamlin she met and adored Franklin, and Hamlin replies, “Yes, I heard he was a great favorite with the ladies.” 

The Bad: 

The romance and attempted love triangle fell completely flat. Hamlin and Lydia barely seemed to talk enough for there to be anything realistic about their love, it just felt like a typical shoehorned-in romantic side plot in an adventure/war movie. 

The character of Hamlin. Dale Robertson was certainly nice to look at, but the script gave him little to work with, and he wasn’t able to transcend it. 

Anne Francis. Her acting just wasn’t the greatest- she was pretty wooden. She was beautiful in a way- but although she was 21 in real life, she disconcertingly looked about 15 or 16. It made me uncomfortable. 

The plotting and sequencing weren’t the greatest either- it could be confusing at times and title cards kept having to break in, feeding us information about the dates and details of the war. 

Accents again! This had the usual Classical Hollywood questionable accents- most egregious was the old mother of D’autremont. The actress was good, but the accent she used was jarringly un-French. 

There were some cringy moments of more casual racism. 

Regarding the “other-izing” of the black Haitians: Sometimes footage of natives drumming out messages had an exoticizing side-show vibe. The opening title card was a racist dog whistle, explaining that the environment in Haiti at the time was “keyed to hysteria by the constant beat of jungle drums.” Blech. 

Trigger warning: blackface. This wasn’t nearly as bad as in I Dream of Jeanie, because no character was performing or entertaining in blackface... but it was still highly uncomfortable to watch. In this case, at least, the plot required Hamlin, Lydia, and her adopted son to blend in with black Haitians. If they were traveling with black freedom fighters like King Dick, other factions of Haitians might think they were French and kill them. They were doing it to not get killed, not demean and appropriate black culture, but still... 

The pulp novel style movie poster grossly sensationalized everything, and there was more dog whistling with the “wild beat-beat of a thousand voodoo drums” line. Again, really?!

[shinidamachu]

Sid, I know you’re mostly an InuKag blog and this probably isn’t your area of expertise, but as a POC the discourse surrounding Kikyo - and by extension InuKik as a ship - really bothers me.

Seems like all anyone can focus on about Kikyo as a character is stupid Iove triangle shipping discourse, if she is hated or called out it’s generally only for that reason and that reason alone. Otherwise if people aren’t hating her because “she gets in the way of InuKag,” she’s treated as this cool girlboss who’s a tragic figure and simply misunderstood, now this is not to erase the complexities and nuance that is inherent to her character, but it kinda bothers me that she’s not called out more for her actual crime in actually being really low-key racist? Like personally she’s one of the most problematic characters in the franchise to me.

The way she treats Inuyasha throughout the anime and manga she acts like she’s doing him a favor and gives off strong “I can’t be racist, I have a black friend/bf!” vibes. She treats him as one of the “good demons” constantly comparing him to the full-blooded ones saying how he’s not like *that* because he has human blood. She straight out just asks him if he ever just thought of stopping being biracial essentially, telling him to throw half of his identity and race away and get rid of his problematic “ethnic features.” She is literally Microaggressions: The Character.

And I know IY is fiction and demons aren’t an actual race that exists in real life, but I’m of the belief that fiction does not exist in a vacuum, it influences and informs reality just like reality informs it. The whole “demons vs humans” conflict that is at the center of the narrative and a hanyou’s place in it feels like it’s meant to be a direct allegory/metaphor for racism between different ethnic groups out in the real world and how mixed people are often caught in the middle. Inuyasha to me reads as a very POC-coded character with very distinct physical features alien to the dominant human society that he is judged for constantly. And maybe I’m just being overly sensitive but it feels really wrong that shipping drama is people’s biggest issue with Kikyo when they’re kinda ignoring this big 5ft pink elephant in the room? I mean tons of other fandoms are always ready to decry and call out the racism inherent to their franchises so why doesn’t the IY fandom? (Though the callouts of Sunrise over whitewashing Shiori in Yashahime was a good start)

InuKik’s whole relationship in general is just really uncomfortable and has these weird racial power undertones to it, I mean Kikyo is a respected village authority who is a Miko in charge of protecting the village in demons, so literally in the position of a “cop,” while Inuyasha himself is a poor, disenfranchised minority youth who’s discriminated against day in and day out and Kikyo basically takes it as her task to play white savior and try to “rehabilitate/civilize” him society, all while she clearly has the upper hand and holds all the privilege between the two and yet she wants to play little miss “woe is me” and pretends or even dismisses the fact that she has any privilege at all? That her and Inuyasha “are in the exact same position???”

And sure we could talk about misogynist double standards and how it’s unfair I’m suddenly interested in “cancelling” her character when Sesshomaru himself is also a big ass racist, but see the difference is is that at least Sesshomaru is an upfront, out-and out open racist. Neither he nor the narrative ever attempt to paint him in the right and openly criticize and give him comeuppance for his racist attitude in life which he has to actively learn from. Kikyo on the other hand is imo the much more dangerous type of racist, she’s the insidious “covert” racist, who might not even realize they’re being racist but has internalized a lot of toxic societal messaging regarding certain skin colors (Or I guess in IY’s case, supernatural powers and animal-like physical features) and so overtly looks down on POC and does a lot more institutional harm to them than a KKK-style racist like Sesshomaru could ever do. She’s not a self-aware racist, which imo is the much more dangerous type.

Anyways sorry for going off on this long rant to you like this, it’s just always bugged me that the fandom seems to overlook this major flaw and problematic connotations surrounding Kikyo’s character when this is an an extremely important issue that deserves to be talked about more and has much more serious implications than any petty shipping debates.

I'm gonna preface this by saying I'm not white either. However, this doesn't necessarily make me an expert on the subject by any means. It's definitely not my intention to speak for every people of color in the fandom. I'm simply sharing a personal opinion.

Of course Inuyasha is fiction and demons aren't an actual race, but as you so pertinently put it: fiction doesn't exist in a vacuum. It influences and informs reality and, in return, reality equally influences and informes fiction.

Inuyasha's predicament is a very clear representation of racism. Just because it doesn't get called out by name, it doesn't mean it's not there. The prejudice, the discrimination and the ostracizing he went through certainly are.

The unfair way in which he has been treated might have nothing to do with his skin tone, but it's deeply associated with his status as a half demon, something he can't nor should naturally change. For an allegory, it can't get more explicit than this.

In that sense, it matters little which real life minority we think Inuyasha was coded after. What's really important is recognizing that his half demon heritage carries an undeserved stigma. It shaped who he is and how he's perceived by others. As a result, everything concerning his demonic blood will inevitably rise very real racial issues. That's why Kikyo comes off in a bad light.

She initially spared Inuyasha's life because she didn't see him as a half demon, but as a half human. And then she got into her head that, due to their shared loneliness, they were not so different — completely neglecting the fact that said loneliness came from totally different places.

Like I've said before: Inuyasha didn’t choose loneliness. Everyone else chose to isolate him. Kikyo, on the other hand, isolated herself. Both Kaede – as the village priestess – and Kagome – as the new guardian of the Jewel – proved that it's more than possible to fulfil their duties while still mantaining deep, meaningful connections to other people. Kagome in particular relied on those connections for her power to grow.

And so Kikyo had the option to simply drop everything if she so desired: pass the Jewel on, stop using her powers and start fresh somewhere. She had the option to ask for help, to let people in.

At the same time, all the reasons why she doesn't are completely understandable. It makes perfect sense for her character, fleshs out her personality and it makes her interesting from a storytelling perspective. What she didn't have was the right to compare her situation to Inuyasha's, who didn't have the luxury of choosing.

Of course, having a little sister who loved her to death and an entire village worshipping the ground she walked on aren't impediments to feeling lonely or depressed, but it's still way more than what Inuyasha ever had at the time.

Kikyo's sorrow doesn't take away from the fact that she was privileged and therefore, could never speack to Inuyasha from a place of parity. Presenting herself as his equal is a false equivalence and the way the scene was framed made it look like Kikyo was asking Inuyasha for sympathy when the goal was — or at least should have been — showing him compassion and understanding.

In that sense, suggesting to use the Jewel to turn him into human is just awful. Not only would it be a selfish wish, but also there's no way for us to know exactly how it would backfire, only that it would. Inuyasha was being used to test a theory that would have failed. Spectacularly.

Sure you can. You're half human, after all. But if it was used to turn you into a human... the Jewel would be purified and would probably cease to exist.

The repetition of the word "human" emphasizes said circumstance. Also, notice how it gets confidently associated with "purity", while such certaninty is not applied to what could happen to the Jewel, which would only "probably" cease to exist.

Not to mention Inuyasha canonically hates being human. It's bad if Kikyo doesn't know that fact, because it shows just how little they actually knew about each other for two people who are supposed to be in love, but for obvious reasons, it's even worse if she does know.

One might argue that her intentions here were good. Adopting the "we're not so different" approach was her way of reaching up to Inuyasha and turning him into human was mutually beneficial in theory. Regardless of what her reasoning was, though, the point is that she never should have done it in the first place. It was highly insensitive at best.

And even if you believe that Kikyo didn't have an actual issue with Inuyasha's demonic features — which is as valid an interpretation as any — there's no denying she wasn't too fond of them either, otherwise she wouldn't have jumped at the chance to get rid of them. She liked Inuyasha despite of who he was, not because of it.

The situation gets even worse when you realize that this arrangement isn't mutually beneficial at all. Hypothetically, Kikyo would be free of her duty, becoming an ordinary woman with a human Inuyasha by her side, which was already everything she wanted. But what about him?

Inuyasha is the one making all the compromising. He was the one putting his life — the one his demon father died to save — on the line. He was the one sacrificing his powers, his physical appearance and his father's legacy (because he wouldn't be able to wield Tessaiga as a human, even if he didn't know about its existence yet). Inuyasha being a half demon was the living proof of his parents tragic love story and he was turning his back on that not because he thought was what he wanted — like becoming a full demon, for instance — but because someone else suggested it to him.

What was Inuyasha getting out of it? "Acceptance" from villagers he didn't really care about and who would only be friendly to him because he wouldn't look like himself anymore, while still being racist to other demons? An "official" relationship with Kikyo, even though there isn't really a good reason as to why he couldn't have that without forsaking a part of who he was, since relationships between demons and humans, though rare, already existed and he eventually got that with Kagome?

Unless, of course, Kikyo's offer to live together was conditional. Which raises the question: what was Kikyo giving up, apart from things she wanted gone anyway? And what would have happened if Inuyasha refused to go with her plan?

Because it was one thing to kiss him in secret — like the anime-only scene in the docks — or after she was technically dead and had nothing to lose, but it's a totally different thing to own up to that relationship without the prospect of using the Jewel to change him. Unfortunatelly, her character isn't written well enough for us to draw our own conclusions based solely on canon material.

The point I'm trying to make is that despite the narrative portraying Kikyo's suggestion as a selfless act on her part, she would be the only one actually benefiting from this deal long run. In the end of the day, it was more about her needs than his, because the kind of acceptance she was offering Inuyasha wasn't the one he needed, which Kikyo should've known.

Inuyasha going for it isn't the proof of love Takahashi — and part of the fandom — tend to paint it as. It's a proof of desperation: desperation that Kikyo would walk away if he told her no. Desperation to belong somewhere. Anywhere. Remember: Inuyasha had his mind set on becoming a full demon literally a few days prior.

That's why this ship was build to wreck, with or without Naraku. There were no trust, no intimacy, no honesty. They barely knew each other. Inuyasha put Kikyo on a pedestal and was constantly trying to act like someone he wasn't to please her (restrained, apathetic and unsure). Their whole relationship was based on loneliness and idealization.

All of this is to say that the way Kikyo treated Inuyasha's heritage is a defining trait of her character and, by extension, of Inukik as a pairing. And although it is possible — even preferable — to call out her behavior outside the shipping discourse, it's also perfectly understandable that both things will blend together because Kagome and Inukag are direct paralells to Kikyo's actions in this regard.

Trust and acceptance are recurring themes in Inukag's relationship and the lack thereof, in my carefully curated fandom experience, is the biggest source of Kikyo and Inukik criticism and it circles right back to those racial issues. Sadly, the closer we ever got from the narrative challenging Kikyo's perspectie on the matter was having Inuyasha end up with Kagome, who had an opposite worldview.

Obviously, there are still people who will make this solely about the love triangle and there will always be, but as far as I can tell, they're mostly casual anime watchers nowadays, not at all comparable to how it used to be back when the ship war was still raging on.

I dislike Inukik and Kikyo is one of my least favorite characters not because I'm an Inukag shipper or a Kagome stan, but because as an Inuyasha stan and someone who appreciates themes and character growth, I can't get behind it even if Kagome never became a part of the equation.

And I believe a considerable amount of people who share this feeling think the same, we just don't express it more often because... Well... You said it yourself: I'm mostly an Inukag blog. And I'd much rather focus on the things I love instead of the ones I dislike.

You see, the Inuyasha fandom is old and the Inuyasha material is older. Inevitably, some part of its content did not age well and inevitably, someone has already pointed that out. It's understandable, though, that some people would chose not to engage the discussion in exchange of peace of mind. Especially with the "let people enjoy things" trend going on.

I think your frustration is completely valid and strongly encourage that you keep the discussion going on your blog if voicing your opinions and experiences will make you feel better. Particularly, I'll be avoiding the topic unless prompted by asks such as this one, in which case I'm fine talking about it.

Fandom is my escape from reality and using my recreative time explaining to the white people in it why certain dynamics portrayed in the show can be considered problematic in a racial level feels exhausting and it's not really my — or any other people of color's —obligation to do so if we don't feel up to it. Especially when there's a huge chance of backlash and of people reducing valid points to ship wars.

It's funny you shall mention the Shiori incident because, unlike Inuyasha, the sequel doesn't have the "test of time" to blame for its poor "creative" choices, since it's from 2020. I distinctly remember calling out the blatant white washing her character suffered, along with the sane part of the fandom and either got ignored because people thought we were overreacting or straight up got told that we were only speaking up because we didn't like a specific ship the show portrayed and that what Sunrise did was fine because Shiori's dark skin is, and I quote: actually orange. So yeah.

That being said, I have reservations about comparing Kikyo to a cop because, personally, I've always thought the priestess occupation — at least as it was originally portrayed in the series — had more to do with medical and spiritual care than with mantaining law and order. Plus, cops tend to do everything in their power to keep their authority and privilege intact, while Kikyo was willing to give that up to become an ordinary woman, but I do see where you're coming from.

As for the double standards, Kikyo isn't the first female character to fall victim to rooted misogyny and unfortunately won't be the last. Kagome herself gets hate for sexist reasons, often from the very people who reprove it when the same thing happens to Kikyo. However, I feel like claiming misogyny is the only reason Kikyo gets hate is not a completely honest statement.

I'd say this argument would hold a lot more water if Kikyo hadn't constantly belittle and actively tried to kill the female protagonist — who had been nothing but kind and understanding towards her — over jealousy, or if her post death existence wasn't literally based on feeding off of miserable women's souls.

The double standards regarding Sesshomaru are real, but it had little to do with gender and everything to do with context. Kikyo was a fallen priestess. One the narrative asks me to believe is in love — or at least loved — a half demon. Sesshomaru is a racist demon who despised his half demon brother and humans alike.

So when Sesshomaru takes a little human girl under his wings and acts somewhat respectfully towards Inuyasha, that's a huge deal to me. But when Kikyo, who is already dead, gives up her "life" to save the child she was planning to sacrifice for the greater good and treats Inuyasha with dignity, my reaction will naturally be "alright, what else is new?" Swap or even their genders and my feelings will remain the same.

It's not a crime having higher expectations for her than for an actual antagonist when the narrative insists on sweeping the bad things she has done under the rug and focusing on how she is still as good as she has always been because, in that case, doing good deeds is not some extraordinary feature, but rather the bare minimum.

Sesshomaru's bad actions were openly and correctly portrayed as bad. He was forced to face his limitations, his weakness and his loses. That made him grow as a character. And if I criticize Sesshomaru, people will most likely ignore me or agree instead of try and justify his actions with his daddy issues. Kikyo being armored by the plot didn't do her any favors in this regard.

Besides, if we're talking double standards, I frankly don't think some people would be as willing to look past Kikyo's mistakes — Sesshomaru's too, for that matter — and ship her with Inuyasha if she wasn't so pretty. And honestly? That's fine. No one needs an actual reason to love or hate a character.

Lastly, it's not like I don't get Kikyo's tragic backstory, it's just that a huge part of why it's tragic in the first place is because of the choices she made. Naraku was detrimental to her fate, yes. But Kikyo's appeal is that she wasn't a passive person to whom things just happened to. She had agency to make decisions for herself.

People like Inuyasha, Sango and Kohaku had way worse than her and definitely not by their choice, but they never used their traumas as an excuse to be cruel. And I'm not saying this is a competition. Kikyo's pain it's just as valid. I'm just saying that, given these circumstances, in a fictional level, it's way harder to relate and empathize with her character.

And it's not like I didn't want to stan Kikyo. On the contrary. She's beautiful, cunning and interesting. I have a long list of powerful, unapologetic, morally grey female characters that I love and most of them were a bigger treat to my ships than Kikyo ever was to Inukag. The difference is that they were well written.

Kikyo's entire concept is fantastic, but the execution was abysmal. It's very clear to me that Takahashi didn't know what to do with her and it's a shame to see so much potential get wasted. I don't mind her characterization at all. She should be flawed and controversial. It's the lack of character development and satisfying redemption arc that I take issue with, if the narrative is gonna sell her as a changed woman worthy of our sympathy.

Anyway... if you want her complexities and nuances done justice, I've heart the Sesskik fandom is the place to be. They actually acknowledge her flaws, hold her accountable for the things she's done and explore very interesting sides of her personality.

I didn't mourn Kikyo's death for a second. But I mourn the character she could have been every single day.

[msookyspooky]

Set Up

Part 3

Word Count: 3,183

"YN, are you sure you don't want a ride? I'd feel better if you did." Sidney tried persuading you as you carried your bag over your shoulder in front of the school.

You sighed, "Sid, I don't want to put Tatum on the spot like that." 

Sidney rolled her eyes in exasperation. "YN, you are not putting her on the spot! Tatum is like the best friend a girl could ever have. If there is a problem she will tell you." 

You almost took the offer when someone cleared their throat behind you. You turned to see Randy standing there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. Sidney glared at him in full mom friend mode. 

"Randy, if you start again about-" 

He held up a hand. "I'm not. I just wanted to talk to YN...About…" He groaned and mumbled. "How much of an insensitive ass I am." 

Tatum walked up to Sidney, hearing what Randy said. She smirked, "First step to recovery is admitting you have a problem." 

He shot her an annoyed scowl as she wrapped an arm around Sidney. "YN, you want a ride?" 

You looked surprised. "Really? Are you sure?" 

She gave you a weird smirk. "Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?" 

You bit your lip, "You seemed...Mad." 

Tatum let out a laugh. "What? Why would I be mad?" 

You mumbled. "Well...Stu-" 

She rolled her eyes with a laugh. "Please. I was mad at Stu, not you. He can't take a hint if it was thrown in his face. He was clearly making you uncomfy. I'd be mad at any pigheaded guy doing that let alone my BF." 

"Yeah, totally..." You whispered in response.

The truth was, it didn't make you uncomfortable. You cared about Stu as a friend only. At least, that's how you thought you felt. But that hug was more intimate than any guy has ever hugged you. You knew Tatum was majorly uncomfortable but you? You were more confused than anything.

"Exactly." Tatum replied, "I'd never be mad at you for something like that."

You blinked before slowly smiling.

She asked again, "So, you want a lift?" 

You looked back at Randy who was standing there quietly. Truthfully, you'd rather ride with the girls but you felt bad for Randy after he swallowed his pride to try and make things right. You shook your head with a smile. 

"No thanks. I think Randy wanted me to walk with him." 

She made a face as Randy looked hopefully at you.

"Ookkaaayyy, call us when you get home. If you don't get home by 6 then I know Randy was the killer and I have to tear his throat out." 

Randy rolled his eyes, "I am not the killer and as if a girl could do that anyways." 

You raised a brow. "Oh, so you don't like being accused of being a murderer either?" 

He looked guilty, looking away and tensing his shoulders. You felt a bit bad and sighed with a smile before addressing the girls. "It's alright, I'll just let Randy walk me home. I think I can take him if he tries something. " 

Randy huffed at that comment as Tatum laughed. "Please, my 6 year old cousin could." She gave Randy a look. "I'm warning you, dork. Touch her and lose fingers." She pointed at him as she walked backwards with Sidney as Sidney just shook her head with a smirk and walked ahead of her. 

"Call us when you get home!" Sidney yelled behind herself to you.

You waved goodbye to Tatum and Sidney as you and Randy went down Corwin street. 

He shook his head. "God, she is such a-" 

"Hey, that's my friend Randy." 

"Yeah, yeah." 

The air was quiet before you passed another street and he finally blurted out. "Look, I'm really sorry. I suck at apologizing but I shouldn't have pointed fingers at you in front of everyone like that." 

"Oh, so you should have accused me in private?" 

"YN, cut me a break here." 

You frowned at him. "No. You accused me of murdering my boyfriend in front of our entire friend group. Even if James and I had a bad relationship towards the end, it was wrong." 

He solemnly nodded. "You're right. I'm an ass." 

"Hell, you didn't even offer condolences-" 

"I know! I'm sorry, okay? I say shit without thinking and the stress is getting to me. I'm a jerk! I get it." 

You saw him hang his head, hands in his pocket as he walked and stared at the sidewalk. 

You nudged him with your shoulder and he looked up at you. "Hey, we all are. That's why it's important no matter how stressed we get; we just can't turn on each other right now." 

He went to say something, probably some horror movie rule or trope but stopped himself. "Yeah, you're right. Hell, my friend group is small enough as it is. I don't need to scare you all off. After that, my friends are Vincent Price and Alfred." 

You smiled at him. "Eh, my group's small too. I don't know how we started hanging with Tatum and Stu. They're like, thee it couple right now." 

He licked his lips in thought. "...Yeah, especially with Casey and Steve gone." 

Your smile faded and he ran a hand over his neck. "Sorry, no turning on each other or murder talk. Got it." 

You debated after a few paces whether to say anything but finally gave in. "Randy...Do you think that…Tatum and Stu could be?" You trailed off.

He glanced up at you. "Do you?" 

You looked away. "I...No, but...It would be convenient to get rid of the competition. They both hated James." 

He shrugged. "I think everyone hated James, to be honest" His eyes lit up. "Oh yeah, speaking of Stu and Tatum, are you going to his party tomorrow?" 

You scoffed. "Why the hell is everyone so happy to go to a party with a murderer on the loose?" 

He shrugged. "Dumbass teenagers, what do you expect?" He raised a brow at you with a smirk. " So, are you going?" 

"I don't know…" 

"Well, I wanted to know because uh…" He cleared his throat again and shuffled his hands in his pocket. "I was wondering if you wanted a ride?" 

You blinked, "Really? But your job." 

"I'm off tomorrow. Ya know, killer on the loose and lockdown or whatever. I mean, good luck keeping teens in during an outbreak of the flu or the stabbies." 

You chuckled at that. "Well, I was going with Tatum and Sid if I do go but I hate for you to be lonely." You teased.

He smiled at you. "Hey, we need numbers. So I'm solo, you're solo...One plus one equals two." 

"True. But...I don't know. I mean, we were just talking about Stu and Tatum possibly being involved. Now you want to go to a party he's hosting?" 

"Yeah but we can still go together. It's safer that way!" 

You gave him a questioning look. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're hinting." 

He flinched, stumbling over his words with a nervous grin. "W-what? Nooo. No! Especially after your boyfriend died. That's not-" 

You chuckled. "I'm messing with you, Randy. I know it's just a friend looking out for a friend. Especially with my boyfriend just dying. I'm not exactly open to going out with any guy for awhile. " You emphasized your point.

Randy went to say something else when someone grabbed you from the bushes. Your heart dropped as a hand wrapped around your arm. You both screamed before seeing it was Billy. Not even a smirk on his face, just scaring you out of nowhere like it was his job. 

You angrily smacked his shoulder.and he didn't even flinch. "GOD DAMN YOU, BILLY! WHAT THE HELL?!" You shouted, your heart still hammering out of your chest.

He finally twitched the corner of his lip, amusement in his eyes. "Gotta be on high alert at the moment, right?" He stared at Randy. " And with a killer out here, it could be anyone." 

Randy stared back at him with narrowed eyes. "Yeah, because hiding in the bushes screams 'not the killer.'" 

Billy glared and Randy subconsciously took a step back. You rolled your eyes at Billy. "Seriously, what are you doing?" 

"Just walking. What are you doing?" 

"Randy was walking me home." 

He gave a mocking smile. "Oh, how gentlemanly of you, Randy." 

Randy pushed his tongue in his cheek and refused to look at Billy.

Billy spoke up again. "Well, looks like I can walk YN home the rest of the way. Your streets right there." He gestured with his head to the street sign. You all looked to see Randy's street was at the corner.

"Well, I was going to walk her home then just go back-" 

"That's alright, I can. No need for you to go out of your way, pal." He gave, the sarcasm dripping off his words.

Randy bit his inner cheek, wanting to argue. He looked at you but you nodded your head. "I'll be alright. I'll call you as soon as I get home." 

He hesitantly nodded. "Alright…If you insist." 

You watched Randy walk away as Billy motioned for you to walk with him. "Come on, I'll make sure you get home safe." 

You stared at him with an accusing glare. "Are you following me??" 

He huffed. "Pst. No." 

"Really? Then why are you walking on the other side of town? You live that way." You pointed behind you with your thumb. "And don't you have a Camero?"

He drew out a heavy sigh past his lips before giving a reluctant nod. "Okay fine, you caught me." 

"Why?" You raised a brow. 

"Because there is a killer on the run and…" He looked back to make sure no one was around before whispering. "And I don't trust Meek, alright?" 

You blinked in surprise, "Randy?? You actually think Randy could or would do that?" 

"Keep your voice down. Look, the kid's pointing fingers at everyone as if he isn't a horror fanatic." 

You chuckled with a bewildered look. "Uhhh, that's the pot calling the kettle black." 

"Not the same. Look, I just don't trust him, okay? With James being killed, I just wanted to make sure you got home safe. He's right, there is a target on your head." 

"You actually think Randy could take down James? By himself?"

He rubbed his face in agitation as he replied. "Just take my word for it. What if he really is involved? It didn't sit right with me seeing you leave with him from the school."

You smirked. "Awww, you do care!"  

"Shut up. I just don't want to see Sidney cry because your insides are around your neck." You could see the faintest smirk pull at his lip before he forced it away.

"Uh huh. I think Billy would cry too." You suggested and he gave you an annoyed glance.

He changed the subject. "Why are you hanging out with him anyways? Didn't the guy accuse you of murder today?" 

 You shrugged. "That's why he was walking me home; to apologize." 

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, how sweet. He really is a gentleman." 

"Oh and you are?" You raised a brow and he gave an insulted scoff.

"Hey, I can be when I want to. I'm going out of my way walking you home for your safety right now, aren't I?" He hesitated before saying it. "...I heard he was offering you a ride." 

"Yeah, so?" 

He scrunched his brows. "And you're going to take it? That is the stupidest thing you could do." 

"Billy, Randy is harmless. Besides, even if he isn't, I would kick his ass." 

You thought that would get a laugh out of him but he stopped you, grabbing your shoulder to look at him.

"I'm serious, YN. I don't want you riding alone with him. Stay away from him." His tone was deathly serious as his hand squeezed you tighter.

You raised your brows. "Uh, I'm glad you're looking out for me but since when do you tell me who I can't be around?" 

He glared at you and released your shoulder. "YN, don't make it like that. The kid clearly has motives." 

You gave him a questioning look before he answered.

"Do I have to spell it out for you? He's a creep. He probably steals women's underwear or some shit. He is desperate. "

"Oh, thanks so much for that."

He groaned. "Desperate as in he would jump at the chance for anything with a rack to look in his direction. He's always had a weirdo vibe even when we were kids. All I see is him eyeing you up and down."

You rolled your eyes into the back of your skull. "Oh my god. What are you, my Dad?"

"You want to be raped and left for dead like Maureen?"

You faltered at that as he raised his brows at you. He continued, "I'm serious, YN. Stay away from him. I was the one that grew up with him, not you."

"I get that but I think I know when a guy is crushing on me. I don't get any weird vibes from him. Besides, Randy doesn't even like me like that he likes-" 

You shut your trap as Billy raised his brows at you.

"Who?" 

You fumbled. "He uh...He likes...Um shit, what is her name again?" You tried saving yourself with a nervous laugh. He stared at you with those intense eyes. It was impossible to stay composed with how he was staring at you, lifting a brow with an unimpressed look on his face.

"YN, he likes my girlfriend. God, it's almost painful watching you lie." 

Your mouth hung open slightly. "Wait, you knew?" 

He sneered in disgust as you both walked. "It's so fucking obvious. He's constantly trying to hang out with her the minute I'm gone. Doesn't have the balls to do it in front of me. Like I said, he's a god damn creep." 

You gave a curious look as understanding dawned on you. "So, that's your real issue with him. You don't like Randy because he likes Sid." 

"Oh please, I'm not that insecure." 

You glanced over at him. "...Billy." 

He glared at you. "I'm not."

He shrugged and looked away. "Sure, me and Sid are having a rough patch but she'll come around. I just don't appreciate some nerd creeping on my girl."

"Billy...Just give her space. She lost her mom last year." 

"Yeah and I lost my mom two years ago. We've all lost something. " You could hear the bitterness in his voice. 

You mumbled. "...You want to talk about it?" 

"YN, you offer to talk about my issues every time it's brought up. If I wanted to talk about it, I would have by now." He snapped.

"Okay." You quietly said.

He was silent before sighing and running a hand through his hair. "Sorry...Just...It's a sore subject Stop asking." 

"I know, I'm sorry. I just want to make sure you know I'm here, okay? I'm here for Sidney too. Just be patient with her. Don't bombard her at the party tomorrow either or you'll really scare her off. That is, if Tatum doesn't rip your ass first before you get the chance." 

He stared at you a moment before drawing out. "I was actually wondering…Well, nevermind." He shook his head with his hands in his pocket.

You looked at him. "What?" 

"No, nevermind. You won't do it for me."

"Billy, what? Just spit it out "

"Okay, I need someone to break the ice with me and her." 

You scoffed in outrage. "Absolutely not!" 

"See? I knew you wouldn't have my back." He mumbled as you shook your head. 

"It's not about having your back! I wish you two would kiss and make up. Seriously, I think we all would be happier without the tension in the group but I'm not doing it! I'm not manipulating her into giving you a second chance."

"Look-" You glared at him as you ranted, getting in front of his walking path to be face to face. He just stared down at you with annoyance in his eyes as you both walked.

"I don't even think I'm going, okay? So find someone else." 

He froze, pausing mid step to stare at you. You stopped in your tracks to see why he wasn't walking. He genuinely looked upset and you didn't understand why. 

"What?" His eyes were wide. "You have to go!" 

"I don't have to go anywhere." 

"Yes, you do! You're seriously going to bail on everyone? Stu was looking forward to you going; we all were!" 

"Oh my god, what is it with you guys and this stupid party?!" 

He shook his head and threw up his hands. "It's important to Stu! If you were a good friend, you wouldn't bail on him at the last minute." He was getting angry, desperately urging you to go. His hands rapidly moving around with every word to emphasize his point.

"Billy, don't say that. You know I care about Stu just as much as anyone but it's stupid to have a party right now. Honestly, I don't understand why you all are going!" 

"Because that's what friends do. We were all counting on you to go! Stu's gonna be heartbroken…I'm not too happy either. I need you, okay? I really do need you tommorow." His shoulders sagged as he frowned at you. "Please...Sidney won't talk to me or look at me right now. I'm desperate...I love her, YN." 

He gave you a sad stare. You sighed and persed your lips. For Billy to say he needed anyone, he really was desperate. You surmised he was angry because he was counting on you to convince Sidney to hear him out. 

You shook your head. "Billy, I'm sorry but I am not getting involved. If you love her, you would wait for her." 

"I've BEEN waiting, YN. I have been patient, understanding, all that shit a boyfriend is supposed to be. I ask you for one thing and you can't even try to consider it!" 

You studied him for a moment, things clicking from what he was saying to why he was saying them. Realization dawned on you and you sneered at him. "....You asshole." 

 "What?" You didn't answer and threw up his hands. "What?!" He demanded again as you shook your head with a death glare in his direction.

 Anger in your eyes and a feeling of betrayal in your chest. "You fucking used me! You weren't making sure I got home okay; you just wanted to guilt trick me into helping you gaslight your girlfriend!" 

His dark eyes widened and he scoffed in disbelief. "What?! That is not true! You're making a big deal out fucking nothing! "

"You don't even really care about me around Randy; you just have some rivalry with him. Here I thought you actually cared." Your tone died off, hurt in your voice whether you liked it or not.

"What? Do you actually think I give a shit enough about Meek to go out of my way for you?! You are being so fucking dramatic and stupid right now!"

"No, I'm seeing clearly how you are! You know what? If you're this manipulative with your friends to get your way then maybe Sidney shouldn't be with you."

"YN." He snapped your name, making you turn to look at him. His shoulders tensed and he tilted his head. Closing his eyes to compose himself. "Don't say something you'll regret. You can't take words back no matter how much you apologize, YN. So how about you stop before you make a giant mistake."

You threw up your hand at him with an offended huff. "There! There you go again! Just put all the blame on me for calling you out on your bullshit."

He angrily walking towards you, confronting you face to face and glaring at you. You refused to step back even if you felt scared at just how intense he was right now.

"Is this the thanks I get for sticking up for you? Huh?! I could have gotten written up and my ass kicked by my dad for you! I could have been suspended! I risked my ass to defend yours and I don't even get a fucking thank you!" He hissed out through clenched teeth.

You glared back at him before it slowly faded into a frown. He stared into your eyes as he watched your anger fizzle out. His scowl leaving as he waited.

"No, I'm sorry." You sighed. "You're right, I should be grateful. I didn't even thank you. Billy, I am grateful for you sticking up for me, okay? I really am." 

He stared at you, looking taken aback and searching your gaze for something. You didn't know what other than he was making sure you were being truthful with him.

You looked at him sadly. "I'm sorry. It's been a hell of a week and very long day. I know you didn't walk me home just to use me."

You saw his Adam's apple move and his mouth tighten. He had an unreadable expression. His eyes wide and something clearly bothering him as his lips curved downward into a frown.

You kept talking. "You're a good friend Billy. That's why I don't understand why you're pressuring Sid right now? It's not like you." 

He cleared his throat and tried to subtly distance himself from you. Taking a step back and folding his arms. Closing himself off from you. Rubbing his nose and looking away, trying to hide whatever emotion he was feeling.

"Oh, so you know me? You think you know everything about me? You haven't even been here a year." 

You sighed to yourself at him deflecting. "Yeah, I do. You and I have always clicked until now. Are these murders changing all of us that much?" You sadly asked.

He looked away, biting his inner cheek before he continued, "Whatever. Forget I asked. I just thought as a good friend you would at least talk to her for me."

"We are but not for long if you keep acting like such a jerk." You muttered as you started walking again. 

He threw his hands up and exclaimed. "Yeah, that's real nice. Let's just make up just for you to shove a knife in me. So, you can talk to her about me but you can't talk to her for me? You can have your little girl talk on the bleachers but-" 

You stopped. Turning to him in shock halfway through his rant. He saw the look on your face and stopped talking. 

"...How did you know we were on the bleachers?" 

He faltered. "...What? I was just giving an example." 

 "We never talk on the bleachers. How did you know Sid and I were talking on the bleachers today?" 

He expertly dodged the question with an answer but you could still tell something was off.

"Duh, Stu told me. He said he left with Tatum and you and Sid stayed. Why are you acting so weird?"

You swallowed. "...How long were you following me and Randy? I didn't even see you at the school so how would you know where we were?"

"Why are you trying to make it look like I'm stalking you? Let me guess, you don't trust me either." He frowned at that. 

You swallowed, a sinking feeling in your stomach.

"I...I gotta go." You quickly turned and picked up your pace.

You heard Billy call out to you. "YN, wait! Don't be like this! YN!!" He shouted, his yelling was urgent as he called out to you. He was doing a lot of yelling recently. His whole personality was shifting before your eyes the last week. Subtly, little tiny things were off but it was still a change.

You didn't like it.

"I'm walking home by myself, Billy!" You yelled back, your hand shook as you gripped your bag tighter. 

You practically jogged away as you heard him calling out to you. "YN! DON'T! Don't shun me like Sidney! Please!" His voice wavered towards the end.

You didn't look back. Despite his sad voice, despite you caring for him...Something was off. His stories, his actions. It was wrong. You could feel it. Sidney could feel it. Randy could feel it.

Billy was lying. 

You rushed home, reaching your door and bolting it shut behind you. You closed your eyes and calmed your breath. Your throat burning as your stomach twisted. 

You didn't know who to trust. 

[plus-size-reader]

Curfew

Randy Meeks x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 3065 words

Warnings: none

Summary: The reader struggling when the curfew is put into place, but Randy has an idea that could make it a little better.

—————————————————————————————————

You were bored.

Woodsboro wasn’t a super happening place to begin with but now that the curfew was in place, it was even worse.

There was nothing to do, and with the additional stress that these recent murders had put on everyone, you were about to blow. The boys could see it, Tatum and Sidney could see it, and most important, Randy could see it.

It was only a matter of time before you absolutely lost it.

Your parents were taking this whole thing extra hard and basically had you on complete lockdown outside of attending school. They couldn’t imagine going through what Casey and Steve’s parents were going through right now, and they were scared.

Which was fair enough.

Everyone was scared right now, but you didn’t understand how putting you under house arrest was going to keep you any safer than you would be anywhere else. Casey was killed at home, after all?

If anything, you would be much safer in a group setting than you would be locked up in your house alone. Still, your parents had made themselves very clear where this topic was concerned. You were absolutely forbidden from attending Stu’s party, or any other party until the curfew was lifted.

It just made everything that much worse.

Parties, especially Stu’s parties, were one of the only things you were looking forward to as of late. Knowing that you couldn’t go to them was really starting to wear on you, and you were understandably let down by the whole thing.

...but it wasn’t just that.

Getting together with a big group of people, your age and ready to party, was an escape for you. With so much uncertainty going on and everything falling apart at the seams, you needed that normalcy to feel human again.

Not that you could really complain about that to anyone who could actually do something about it.

You knew that there was a very real danger out there and the only way to really be safe would be to stay inside your home where no one could get you but you just felt like your folks were taking it a little too seriously.

If everyone else was going to be out anyway, what different was it going to make, really? If anything, it made you a bigger target because you were one of the only people stuck in your house while everybody else was together.

To you, the logic was sound but to them, it was little more than a pathetic excuse to get out of the town’s mandated curfew.  

Which it kind of was, but you couldn’t help but feel like they were being unreasonable. You were a smart, responsible young woman and you weren’t going to take any stupid, unnecessary risks. You just wanted to maintain some level of normal life.

You were tired of being stuck at home like a rat in a cage, never allowed to go out and do anything. It was a stark contrast to how you normally were, with a thriving social life and active party presence.

It was almost as if you were dead too, not to be dramatic.

This was just hard on you, and they weren’t making it any easier. You had to rely on your friends, now more than ever, and they were basically cutting off any contact you had with them to lunch at school and quick phone conversations.

No one would have just taken that and been happy with it. Certainly not within your tight knit group of friends.

You sighed, fiddling with your pen as you tried to remember all the things you needed to get done when you got home. You knew well enough to know that if you didn’t write it down now, you would never remember it all.

With everything else on your mind, school seemed like the least of your worries.

You were so enthralled, in fact, tapping your pen away on the table that you didn’t even notice at first when Randy came up and sat down beside you, taking note of how unhappy you were about everything going on right now.

He couldn’t blame you.

The male at your side was perfectly aware of how excited you had been for the parties the recent nice weather was bound to bring, and equally as aware of how bummed you were that your parents had put a kibosh on the latest shindig before it even had a chance to begin.

“You okay?” he hummed, startling you just a bit when you looked up to see him already sitting at your side, but the racing in your chest calmed down just as quick. No one really knew who was responsible for all these terrible murders but you knew in your heart it wasn’t Randy.

You had known him all your life and even if he was a little strange, he was the sweetest guy in Woodsboro. He wasn’t some natural born killer or a sociopath on a killing spree.

“Honestly, if I have to think about this anymore, my brain might explode” you allowed, leaning slightly into his side to take some of the pressure off your aching, tight muscles as you kept focus on your schedule.

All this stress had to be bad for your body.

Tatum seemed to think so, at least, warning you that if you didn’t learn to decompress somehow you were going to go prematurely grey and get crows feet under your eyes. While you weren’t sure how much you trusted her endless cosmo knowledge, you certainly didn’t feel the greatest.

This was all just a lot for one person to juggle.

Randy could see that much.

He had been watching you all day, moping around that you wouldn’t be allowed to go to Stu’s party and worrying about a huge midterm you had to take for your english class that would physically make or break your grade.

You were spreading yourself way too thin. Luckily, he had an idea of just how he could help you feel a little bit better without breaking your parents' rules.

He just wasn’t so sure you’d go for it once you found out just what he had in mind.

“I was thinking, maybe you’d wanna come over to my place later? I have tonight off so we could watch a movie or something?” he offered, trying not to come across as painfully awkward as he felt. Randy was your friend, and usually could talk to you no problem but what he was proposing was different.

The two of you had never really hung out, just the two of you, before.

You nodded, not even looking up from your notebook as you scribbled something down in black ink, likely a reminder to do your calculus homework based on the way your brow knit together as you formed the letters.

You were preoccupied, too in your head to really consider what was going on but he certainly wasn’t.

Randy was aware of every little movement you made, from the way your nose scrunched up as you concentrated on making sure all the due dates and assignments were right on your calendar to the way your shoulder rested gently against his side.

“Who else did you invite? You know Tatum always complains about the movies you pick” you reminded, thinking over all the times the six of you had tried to watch movies together in the past. She got bored of psychological thrillers and grossed out at the gorey slashers.

She was much more of a Meg Ryan fan herself, constantly pulling for the cheesy romance flicks that made you want to ralph. You couldn’t put it past her to make Randy grab a couple of sappy videos too, just in case.

If she was going to be involved in movie night, you were sure you’d have to shoot down a few of those crappy comedies before you could watch anything worthwhile.

Randy sighed lightly, doing his best to keep you from noticing as he thought about what his next move was. Clearly, you’d missed the point of what he was asking entirely, not that he could blame you.

He had never really been good at asking out pretty girls, especially not ones he;d known since he was in elementary school, so this was new for him as well. He just sort of hoped that you would catch his drift early so he wouldn’t have to clarify out loud.

The last thing he wanted to do was put you on the spot and make you uncomfortable.

“Oh, I was actually hoping it could just be the two of us. I know it's no Stu Macher party but it could be fun” he shrugged, this time almost wishing a giant hole would open up from under him so that he didn’t have to have this conversation.

He wanted you to say yes, of course, more than anything but he just wasn’t sure if it was going to happen and if it wasn’t, he wanted to know early on.

At least then he could have some dignity in this whole thing.

You stopped writing for a second, letting the meaning of his words sink in as you sat there, your left leg bouncing up and down to try and keep up with the racing of your thoughts. It had been going nonstop since you sat down, but now, it was just resting against his.

Was Randy hitting on you?

Randy Meeks, your childhood best friend who had never once made a move on you aside from calling you pretty in your winter formal dress in middle school?

It didn't seem likely, but it was also hard to misinterpret his words. That was about as cut and dry as a date invite could be, and if it had been coming from anyone else, Tatum and Sid would have surely confirmed it for you if you asked.

Not that you could ask either of them right now.

“You wanna watch a movie tonight? Just you and me, at your house?” you clarified, setting your notebook down beside you without a second thought in favor of looking him in the eye.

He was uncertain for a second, trying to read any cues of how you were feeling about that from your own expression but found nothing there, so he nodded.

“Like a date?” you hummed, the words barely leaving your lips as you spoke them, feeling silly at having to clarify at all but you couldn’t help it. If he wasn’t meaning it in that way and you took it like that, you risked making an even bigger ass of yourself.

...but if he did, you needed to know that too.

There was a light blush on his freckled face as he considered his options before he nodded again, giving you all the information you needed. Randy was definitely hitting on you, now all you had to do was decide if you wanted to.

A movie could be fun.

You and Randy had watched a hundred movies together before, with you sometimes staying after hours at the video store while he closed to just see the ending of Frankenstein's bride that you loved so much.

Usually, there were more people there, Tatum and Stu at the very least, with Billy and Sid joining in when they saw fit, but it couldn’t be so different to just be the two of you.

You loved spending time with him, so doing so under the context of it being a date couldn’t possibly change that up so much. This was just Randy after all, it wasn’t like he was some guy you’d only just met or some creep Tatum thought it was okay to set you up with.

...and you were sure that your parents would agree to it.

Spending a few hours at Randy’s house was vastly different than going to some house party and out of all your friends, you knew that they trusted him the most. If he said you were there, they would believe him which would cut down on the third degree.

There really were no downsides.

Besides, if you were going to go out with any of your friends, it would be him, even if Billy or Stu did happen to be single. You and Randy just had a lot more in common and you knew that he would never put you in any danger.

You trusted him, and you liked him.

If he liked you too, it only made sense that you had a movie night together, just the two of you.

~

Getting your parents to agree to letting you spend a few hours at Randy’s house wasn’t as easy a sell as you thought it would be but by the time he came to pick you up, he managed to convince them that it would all be fine.

He wasn’t going to let anything happen to you, and in all honesty, they believed it.

Randy had never given them any reason not to trust him and at the end of the day, they came to the conclusion that you did have a little bit of a point. Knowing that you were somewhere with someone else made them feel a little bit better than if you were home alone.

It brought some amount of comfort to know that Randy would be there with you. Besides, your mother was just so thrilled that he’d finally asked you out on a date that you were sure she would have agreed to anything.

That was how you got here in the first place, walking down the familiar aisles of the video store with Randy as you searched for something to watch. Between the two of you, you had basically seen all the good horror films that they had available.

Not that knowing that was stopping either of you from picking up title after title, looking them over incredulously as you searched for the perfect thing.

Initially, Randy was just going to pick something up on the way to get you but decided that this would probably be more up your alley first. The video store was only open for a short time today due to the curfew but that was more than enough time for him to find exactly what he wanted.

After all, there wasn’t a title in the store that Randy didn’t know by heart. In fact, he had likely put them each right where they were, in each of their respective spots on the shelf. That was literally all he did all day when he did work.

“What about this one?” you suggested, holding up a pretty well loved copy of night of the living dead happily for his approval. It was a classic, one that you had each seen a dozen times, but because of that, it was quick to go into the basket.

Then, after scanning the few horror aisles one more time, Randy settled on what he always settled on and plucked a copy of Prom Night off the shelf.

At this point, you were sure he’d rented that specific video nineteen times by now but didn’t bother to point that out. You knew that it was one of his favorite movies of all time and if that was what he wanted to watch tonight, you weren’t going to argue.

All you really wanted to do was spend the night relaxing with your best friend, on what was technically also your first date. It was a little bit of pressure, more so than you were used to, but nothing that you couldn’t handle.

At the end of the day, you loved Randy and this was just something else you could do together.

“Alright, are you ready to go? I’ve got plenty of good snacks at the house for us to munch on too” he promised, fully aware of just how you liked your movie nights to go down. That was something else the two of you had in common.

You were very particular about your movies, especially horror movies.

It was something he could appreciate, along with your sense of humor and heart of gold. All in all, when Randy actually stopped to think about it, he wasn’t sure why he’d waited so long to ask you to do this in the first place.

This was going to be awesome.

~

Randy’s house was nice, of course, well put together every single time you had been there but you couldn't really focus too much on that.

Instead, you occupied yourself putting the tapes into the player while Randy made popcorn in the kitchen. It was kind of strange for a few moments, as you sat waiting for him to get back, looking around the living room under such new circumstances.

You have been here a hundred times before.

You had sat in this exact spot plenty of times but tonight, it was so different. You had only ever been here before as a friend, normally with all your other friends there to keep you company even when someone had to leave the room but not anymore.

Right now, you were waiting here as a girl on a date, a date with a guy you’d known your entire life.

It was just so strange how quickly everything had changed. Just this morning, you and Randy were little more than friends, and now, you couldn’t quite be sure what you were. Not that you had too much time to consider that before he was back.

“I bring gifts,” Randy grinned, plopping down beside you on the couch, swamping the coffee table with bags of chips and assorted boxes of candy before handing you the big bowl of popcorn. Clearly when he promised snacks, he wasn’t kidding.

You watched him do a onceover of the spread he’d provided before he ultimately decided that it was going to be fine.

“Perfect, just what we needed” you smiled, relaxing even further into the couch next to him, getting ready to start whatever it was that was going on between the two of you. It was new, uncharted territory for the both of you but it wasn’t looking too bad.

A copy of Prom Night and some popcorn with Randy was perhaps the only thing that could make this whole curfew thing worthwhile.

[barzzal]

take me as i am

summary: like he always does, sidney picks you up after work. the only thing he didn’t expect was to see you kissing one of your workmates. the one he’s been jealous of, to be exact.

↳ pairing: sidney crosby x you

↳ warnings: jealousy, make up sex, and the whole narrative of sidney learning you love him for the first time, minors dni*

↳ genre: angst if you squint, fluff, smut, pre-established relationship (you’re not there yet but almost), +18

↳ length: imagine; 5.9k

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: skin, drunk on love by rihanna

note: this fic has been in my drafts for a while and i’m just happy i get to share it with y’all now! a lil nervous putting this out but as always, feedbacks are very much appreciated! <3

Sidney has never gripped a steering wheel so hard in his life not until he spent the entirety of waiting outside the café of your building, watching the innocent touches and laughs you share with a colleague that he has been secretly observing every time he comes and picks you up after work or your usual work brunches such as this.

You hadn’t been dating officially which is basically the reason behind why he didn’t want his petty issues out in the open. But Sidney has got to admit that even though the obvious age gap between the two of you didn’t bother him, the sight of you hanging out with guys your age– someone who could potentially connect with you in levels he knew he never could, scares the shit out of him. 

So, when he sees you give that guy a kiss goodbye and a smile that he knows he only brings out of you, that’s when he lost it. 

As soon as you get out of the café, you immediately see Sidney’s car parked at the usual spot he takes. His car was fairly tinted so he makes it a point to come out and greet you with a quick kiss before opening the door for you. However, this time, (the first time for the matter) instead of Sidney’s well built arms, what welcomed you were the car’s flashing lights beaming your way, signaling you to walk over where he was.

You didn’t mind, thinking that he must’ve been just tired from practice. Once you’ve snuck in the car and got settled, you turn to Sidney who was already turning the engine on without even bothering to give you the one thing he’s never failed to do ever since you two started going out. Kisses.

“Hey, babe.” You greet him, hand already massaging his nape as you lean in to plant a small kiss on his cheek. When you feel his jaw clenched, that’s when you knew something was definitely wrong. With furrowed brows, you were utterly bemused at his strange behavior. 

“What’s with you?” You ask him, hand still placed on his nape, now running your thumb on top of it endearingly to ease out the stress you thought he was under. Sidney didn’t bother answering and instead turned his eyes onto the rear view mirror, finally pulling off the parking spot and into the main road. 

He mumbles something which you didn’t quite hear. “What?” 

Sidney only shakes his head, dismissing the attention you have been giving him. “Nothing.” 

You decide not to push him further so you just took your hands away from him and closed your arms. You look outside the window, watching the normal busy day of the city rush before your eyes. 

It’s safe to say that you and Sidney spent the whole ride sitting in an uncomfortable silence. You try and steal a couple of glances, evidently clueless as to what caused his sudden change of demeanor. You were sure the two of you were fine because you had woken up real good this morning and even shared a steamy shower before heading for work. You sat the remainder of the car ride listening to Sidney’s heavy sighs that comes every time he stops at the traffic light. 

“Baby, come on. What’s wrong?” You ask him. This time, fueled with the desire of learning what could have possibly upset him. 

“Nothing.” He repeats only now with his voice distant and inattentive as his eyes were still pinned hard on the road.

Your gaze tread onto his veiny hand holding on the steering wheel. His brief movements whilst he maneuvers it, and his Rolex shining under the golden sun, were more than enough to send your mind miles away from where you are. You clear your voice, practically turned on by the man who’s busily ignoring you, “When you’ve done nothing but ignore me, it’s definitely not nothing.” 

Sidney is a fairly quiet man. A man that’s secured and guarded. A man that thinks about how he should react to certain situations. A man with certainty— a man that knows what he wants. That’s at least what you’ve learned from going out with him for almost a year. Sure, you haven’t had the talk about making things official after said given time, but you absolutely see yourself committing not just to him but more importantly to the relationship you have been able to build with him.

You were still working your way with having a full grasp of his sudden mood changes although this time, you just know it’s different. You see, Sidney may not be that talkative compared to his teammates but he still treated you differently. He moved around you differently. Perhaps, it’s even safe to say that the only time he gets to be himself is whenever he’s with you. His connection with you was just undeniably surreal that he’s even certain himself that he has never been this comfortable and so at home with someone who was probably still cruising through life when he got drafted in the NHL; let alone, connect with her on so many levels that no one, not even a shit ton of girls from his dating track ever did. 

However, given said time, and possibly even the age difference, Sidney does tend to get all dominant towards you that it even intimidates you at one point. That being said, that intimidation would later on ignite a fight that’s usually composed of blank stares, cold shrugs and treatments as the two of you ignore each other for the rest of the day. 

“Hon, come on. Tell me what’s wrong. Please?” You ask for the hundredth time as you tugged on the hem of the sleeves of his shirt.

You keep persuading Sid to tell you what has been bothering him that it finally got into his nerves, resulting in him involuntarily snapping at you with the sudden rise in his voice. 

“Stop it, y/n! I said it’s nothing. I’m tired. I just want to go home.” He finally breaks, causing you to take your hands off of him in an instant as if his words burn your skin. 

Lo and behold, “Alright. Fine.” were two words that rang in his ears all the way home. You did what you’re told and shut up and ignored him the whole time. You would often see him taking glances in the corner of your eye but your ego was far too stepped on to even care. You did care. He was just too much of a prick to acknowledge it. Now that he’s made his bed, he can lie on it as long as he pleases. 

Much to his realization, he immediately regretted having to raise his voice. He didn’t mean to, of course. It’s just that the image of you and the guy you’re working with was the only thing running in his mind all throughout the car ride. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you because who was he to begin with?

He didn’t have the right to tell you these things because he wasn’t exactly in the place to do so. He would never order you to quit seeing that man nor will he ever ask for more than what you can give. He just hated himself for feeling insecure and quite possibly terrified of the idea that he’d eventually lose you to a man that’s far better than him. However, out of all scenarios playing in his head endlessly, you realizing that you’re better off without him was what scared him the most. 

As soon as he pulls over the driveway, you get out of the car without uttering a single word. A thing that Sidney knew will cause him another night of sharing a cold bed with you.

𖥸

Sidney follows you into his home and watches as you head towards the stairs. The cold dead air settles quickly between the two of you whilst you continue to ignore him completely. Sidney frustratingly sighs and tosses his keys onto the accent table. He ran his hand through his hair as he followed after your steps, knowing full well that he was clearly the one in the wrong.

He sees you sitting at the end of the bed whilst you take off your red pumps. “I’m sorry.” he says at once, voice still soft amidst the fact that he was still testing the waters.

Without an ounce of thought, you stood and walked over his closet to get rid of your work clothes, sparing not an ounce of attention for the man. As you walk further his huge closet, you hear the sliding doors glide all the way as Sidney follows after your track.

“Baby…” He coos, the familiar tone in his voice that was missing a while ago now hits every nerve in your body. Although, despite feeling the same effect he’s always had on you, you still manage to let out a wild scoff while you start removing your white button down shirt in front of the mirror that stretched all the way to the ceiling, revealing nothing but your black laces that held your breasts underneath. A mundane sight that’s always left Sidney’s throat high and dry.

“Oh, so now I’m baby?” You snarked, eyes darting on him through the giant mirror.

Sidney didn’t break off contact as he approached you but once he did, your skin was the first thing his hands found the moment he wrapped his arms around your waist before you could even protest. He then plants a small kiss on your shoulder before he rests his chin on top of it.

The biggest mistake you’ve made however, was to turn your gaze on his apologetic eyes because not only did it make your heart beat faster, but it also made you realize that you can never win with this man. You were done for for good.

Besides the sight put forth exclusively for him, you brush your hand on his skin, making up for the time you’ve spent ignoring each other.

“I’m sorry.” He concedes with a pout and the little voice he makes when he’s done arguing with you; enough to make you let out a quiet laugh whilst the two of you rest in each other’s arms. You just roll your eyes and bite back a smile. A thing that lets Sid know he got through the fight even if it barely was one.

“Why were you having a fit anyway? Rough day?” Your hand finds his cheek to caress it while Sidney presses feather light kisses on your now exposed skin. 

“No. I’m just– tired.” He lies again, losing count on how much he’s told you that he was just tired. Or that it was nothing worth worrying about. But he should’ve known better. You weren’t that gullible to believe it. So, you just arch your brows and watch him stifle a tight smile upon having caught on his lie. 

“Come on, tell me.” You persuade him.

“I saw you with that guy earlier.” He starts, treading his way lightly on what’s been bothering him. His voice leaves vibration on your skin as he speaks.

You hum and asked, “Who? Mike?”

Great. He even has my back up name. He thinks but only resorts to nodding his head, admittedly enjoying how your hand brushes on his muscular arms, making it difficult for him to argue his case.

“What about him?”

“I saw you kiss him—” were just the words you needed to hear to understand the whole point being Sidney was a big jealous man himself. “You’re jealous.” You confirm with a smug smile on your face. Now having a full understanding of his unusual quietude. 

“Honey, there’s nothing to be jealous about.” You guarantee him. You then turn your back and face him. You put your arms around his neck whilst his arms fitted well as it embraced your middle. You plant a small kiss on the tip of his nose, sending heaps of the same immeasurable feeling through his system.

Sidney lets go of a sigh. Amidst his knowledge, and frankly, even the certainty of you not breaking his trust, he had nothing just as much as the guy you’re working with. The only difference, however little, was that he’s the one who’s able to take you home. Other than that, he wasn’t really sure if you were feeling the same thing as him. Or if you’d even reciprocate what he’s been trying to tell you. 

Despite that, you know best that Sidney was a clueless man and was frequently teased by his constant miss on the more important things. (Other than getting that puck inside the net.) That being said, you were just as scared as him when it comes to dealing with where your relationship with him was headed. Or if it was even headed somewhere.

“I know you would never do anything and I trust you. It’s just that– I can’t help it. It bothers me.” He confesses. The man of the ice that everyone has looked up to crumbles before your eyes— and all that because you kissed a friend goodbye. 

You giggle at the sight of a jealous Crosby unravelling before you. You wrap him in your arms whilst he buries his face on the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, savoring it as much as he could.

“You’re so cute.” You tell him the moment you break off the hug. A wide smile printed on his now reddened face, quite smitten and shy to be put under your gaze.

As you inevitably drown in his scent whilst he cages you in his embrace, the next words slipped off your tongue as fast as it recoils your way the moment you heard it yourself. “You know I love you, right?” 

To say that you were nervous was an understatement. Horrified would not even suffice what you felt the moment your eyes locked with Sidney’s. His dark round irises looked through yours as if he knew what’s going on inside your head. If only you could move past this and save it for another fight, but you know you couldn’t. Not when his arms were still wrapped around your middle. Thus, for lack of a better term: you’re screwed. 

You were frozen to your feet at your sudden profession. Sidney, albeit having dreamt of this moment, was just as startled as you, feeling his throat dry whilst he tries to utter the right words. Both of your rapid and yet seemingly still breathing serves as the only constant exchange between your bodies.

Finally, Sidney gathers himself and speaks, “Now I do.” 

Before you could even break a smile, Sidney’s lips was what welcomed yours in an instant. The urgency and desire overflowing with every move his lips make as if to drown you deep in the pool of his voracious thirst, letting you know that what you had just told him is exactly what he’s been feeling towards you. Perhaps, even more. 

“You love me.” He breathes, both your teeth clashing just as you both gasp for air, perceptibly choosing to deluge yourselves in each other’s kisses than to take even just a second to catch your breaths. You take all might you still have left and nod your head, you’re hasty at how his kisses felt more than enough to tell you he felt just the same. 

Once you caught up with his pace, Sidney finds support by pinning you up against the giant mirror. His hands, roaming on the hem of your skirt before pulling it up just above the middle of your thigh. His hand then moves to your back, pushing his body closer to yours. He breaks away from your lips just so he could make his way onto your jawline and down to your neck, leaving sloppy and wet kisses in every corner he could get into. 

Without a word, Sidney takes you in his arms, busying himself with your lips yet again. Your arms wrap around his nape just as he makes his way towards the king sized bed. 

Once the bed is beneath the two of you, he carefully lays you down, letting his physique tower all over your body. The sight of your half-nakedness burns before his eyes— sending shivers on his skin, the fervent wanting to have you all out for him and him alone circles his now empty mind. Empty, being that there was nothing else cruising it other than the thought of having you take him through and through.

You watch him take off the shirt that mirrored the color of his irises, revealing his strong athletic built. Your eyes travelled from his flushed torso, down to his well-sculpted abs, before finally settling onto the thickness of his jeans that was hindering you from seeing his bulging member. Sidney lets you take him all in, his eyes grim and filled with lust once it meets yours. Not long after, clearly not needing to mutter any word, he dives on top of you, claiming your lips as if to seal a dance that ought to fuel the burning desire kindling in your veins with every touch he floors you with. 

You have gotten used to how Sidney takes you in the bedroom. Slow and steady at first, clearly holding himself back from all unimaginable pains and pleasures you know he would take no second guesses inflicting on you. This time, however, the only thing he wanted was to give you all that he has to offer. You two have always connected in ways more than just for the sake of satisfying each other in the bedroom. Or occasionally, in the passenger seat. Nonetheless, every kiss and every touch he leaves you with wasn’t meant to send you such insinuations. This time, what Sidney wanted from you was to be his alone. All for him— just like what you have told him. 

You know I love you, right?

The two of you gasp for air, evidently aroused by your deep desire to claim each other. Sidney’s fingers found your neck as his lips sought resort on your clavicle, leaving marks all over your skin just as his free hand went to unclasp your bra.

Once your breasts are out of the only material covering it,  Sidney assures no second is spared as he takes one bud into his mouth, letting himself feel your muffled moans through the vibration on your neck, resulting in him tightening his grasped onto it just before letting go so his hand could tend to your other bosom.

His kisses then moved to the center of your body, enough to make you arch your back for him, meeting him in between whilst his hand got busy with discarding all the remaining material that has irkingly caged the part of you he certainly needed most. Sid’s hands grazed every line, every curve, and every inch of your nakedness. 

You feel the firmness of his skin graze from where your neck meets your shoulder, to the skin parting your breasts, down to your stomach before stopping onto the hem of the last undergarment you were wearing. You watch him savour the sight of your black work underwear, the undeniable truth of Sidney wanting to rip it all off exuding off his demeanor. Nonetheless, he stopped himself, trying to sustain his breathing and keep his mind straight.

“Sid…” You moan under his touches.

As an effort to make things easier for Crosby, you part your legs voluntarily, giving him all access to the thin fabric covering your now throbbing core. And just like that, once he sees your moistness through your laces, a muffled groan escapes his lips, making him grip onto your thigh all the more tighter than he already did. 

Sidney throws himself on top of you just so he could kiss you once more. His lips moving slowly as he stops to take the sheer material of your panties in his mouth, getting a whiff of your now damped sex whilst his eyes were pinned on yours, savouring how you sheepishly return his gaze; visibly still shy to be put under his sole attention. Despite that, you watched him strip the clothing off. You lightly push your back upwards so he could get it under the curve of your ass before he finally succeeds in letting it slide down your smooth skin, the material falling onto the floor like the rest of your clothes.

Full, wet kisses was what welcomed your body next. It was gentle— yet firm as Sidney presses his lips onto your thigh, his hand lightly grazing the other in an upward motion. Your hand finds Sidney’s hair once he’s knelt in his desired position. He feels you tugging his head onto your center, silently pleading what you have been wanting him to do the moment he laid a hand on you. 

He hushes at his needy pup, “We have all night, my love.”

Sidney returns his attention back to your inner thigh with a smug grin. He makes sure to place whole kisses to every corner but your core, leaving you wanting, aching and more.

His breathing didn’t do much help either. It made the yearning much worse as Sidney’s touch becomes so addicting that you find yourself fighting for more than what he could give. 

Thankfully, Sid finally obliged. 

He takes pleasure in getting a whiff of your scent. Overwhelming his senses, sending jolts of adrenaline up his spine. He wanted to take you right then and there. Only taking you whole wasn’t the only thing he had in mind. He wanted to own you— mark you. Even if it meant having to do it all night so no one else would be worthy enough to even dare to share a bed with you.

One single stroke sent you to madness. The tip of Sidney’s nose, already doing wonders you’ve never once imagined. “Sid, please.” You beg in a muffled whimper. To which he only reciprocated with pressing his lips on top of your slit, humming. Not long after he takes his tongue out and lets himself taste your wetness. 

Your fingers weave through his midnight colored hair, pulling him closer as he stuck his tongue inside you, the humming he occasionally makes sends overwhelming pleasure through your walls. As your endless moans and whimper covered the room sinfully, Sidney pushed his fingers inside your center. Letting himself bask in your warmth, curling it so he could finally fuck you while he endowed himself with the treat that is: eating your cunt. 

As you mount your high by grinding your hips against Sidney’s lips, his name was the constant thing you utter— almost as if it was a prayer for the gods responsible for having such a man kneel down before you; taking all you could give him with every mouthful of liquid dripping out from your now tightening and pulsating sex. 

You were close to your high upon the continuity of Sid’s teasing strokes, switching from circling his tongue on your bud to the nibbling he does that surely floods you with ecstasy. Sidney knew you were close, so the only thing he did was to keep going, curling his fingers inside you as he keeps hitting the right spot over and over again— and once he feels your pussy throb in his mouth, he positions himself down on your opening just so he could take all of your juices, his arm wrapped around your hips to secure his wedged head in between your thighs, making you squirm and yell all the words you could even utter, your fingers sinking onto his duvet sheets.

Sidney takes his fingers out of your already spent pussy, fixated on watching your heaving chest, breasts spread out beautifully for him whilst you still drown in the bliss of meeting your high. He then takes both fingers into his mouth, sucking all that’s left of you on his skin, your distinct taste waking up the beast in him. 

Sidney was eager to spend the night worshiping you. To give you the love and affection you deserved even when he still feels like he’s no good for you. All he wanted to do was to prove himself to you. Not just as someone who would gladly concede before your needs, but as someone who’s worthy enough to spend what remains of your waking days regardless of it being good or bad.

No matter the circumstances. No matter the highs and lows. Sidney wanted to be the one holding your hand through it all. He was ready, and willing to give it all up if that meant having a chance at a life spent with you. He wanted nothing else but you alone. 

The odds must have taken his side for when Sidney looked into your eyes, he knew you wanted the same thing too.

Before Sidney could hover back on top of you, you were quick to pull yourself up which startled him for a bit, clueless as to why you were getting up not until he met the suggestive look on your face whilst you crawl your way towards the end of the bed. 

Your hands find their way to the thick fabric of his jeans, teasingly creeping up to his belt buckle without breaking your gaze off of him. He doesn’t say a word and lets you do what you do best. He watches you work your way through, the sound of the cold metal on your hand echoes in your ears as it further builds up the anticipation of finally getting your hands on Sidney.

He helps you get his pants off and once it was on the floor with the rest of your clothes, his hands then take rest holding your hair, gathering it all in his fist whilst you busied yourself by stroking his far too hardened dick along with the pre-cum that’s already dripping on its tip. 

Sidney’s flushed chest heaves the moment you take the head of his cock in your mouth; looking up at him as you continue teasing his end, licking off what remains of his pre-cum. You take time just like what he did a while back, ensuring that no part of him was left untouched by your lips— that his massive build will be taken by your mouth down to the very last inch. 

“Fuck.” He groans, his grasp on your hair tightening as he pushes his length further into your throat. 

Nothing but sloppy and wet noises of your mouth taking Sidney whole was what can be heard in the room. Every moan that slips off Sidney’s tongue makes you feel alive more than ever before. The muffled praises he gives you whilst he watches you devour him whole was all that ran in your head. The beads of sweat on his temple, the hoarseness of his voice, and the way his Adam's apple moves the closer he feels he is to coming signaled you to continue whatever it was you were doing not until seconds after you take his hardened balls into your mouth. 

“Baby, no.” He didn’t want to but it is what he had to do. He pulled himself off of you when you started sucking on his balls. Your tongue was doing too much with the build up thickening in his region. He didn’t want to spoil the evening by cumming sooner that he intended. The night was still young and if he’d let you devour him all the way, he knew he only had seconds left before he fails in stopping himself from cumming all over your face. 

You shot him a puzzled look and quickly rose to meet his eyes, “Why? Is there something wrong?” 

He breathes, taking both his hands on your shoulder, steadying you under his softened gaze. “Nothing. It’s just- I don’t wanna cum yet.” He sheepishly admits, enough to make you bite a smile and rest your head on his chest. 

You whisper an assuring “Okay.” and wrap your arms around his nape to lock him in another kiss. His rough hands grazed your naked body so beautifully. Tucking some of your hair at the back of your ear before travelling down the line your back as it finally takes rest on your butt, the other brushing on your nipple first before it goes down just below your breasts and your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Sidney tread to the corner of your lips as he lightly presses small kisses, working his way down from your jaw line onto the crook of your neck before finally settling down on sucking onto your clavicle. Once he breaks away, you both look deep into each other’s eyes, completely enthralled and enamoured to be in each other’s embrace, drowning in what seems to be the night you’ll never forget. 

“I love you.” He professes, the words finally leaving his chest out for you to hear. 

You always thought you’d smile when you hear it but you just didn’t. You were happy, sure. But for once, throughout the time you’ve spent in Sidney’s arms, whether in bed or not, you were so sure that none of the scenarios you’ve played in your head endlessly came off as right as caging him in your hold, sealing his words with a much needed passionate kiss. Pretty much like how he did when you’d told him the exact words you needed to hear moments ago back in his closet.

Sidney brushes his thumb on your cheeks and looks deep into your eyes once you break off, “What do you want me to do, y/n?” he asks, voice husk and yearning.

Without even giving it much thought, you chase Sidney’s lips and let out words enveloped with the same wanting and desire he had already been feeling from months on end, “Take me, Sid.” was the only thing you tell him. “I only want you.” 

Sidney wasted no second and claimed you with his lips once again. This time, lustful and needy— like the kind of kiss that takes your mind off where you actually are but not so much as to let you fly far off his reach so he ensured keeping you close to his skin whilst the two of you basked in a much heated kiss. 

His hands squeezed every inch of your skin he could find and with just one swift motion, Sidney props your legs around his waist as he finally takes you down the bed, allowing you to feel him in your middle, hard and heavy for your core. 

“I’ll go get the rubber.” He says, aiming for the bedside table instantly but you lightly grabbed his nape and planted a kiss on top of his nose, “No, don’t. I want to feel you.” 

“Are you sure?” He asks you, concern evident in his eyes. It’s not like you needed him to have it anyway. You were safe after having met with your gynecologist for an appointment a week ago. You give him an encouraging nod and smile, taking his lips as an answer. 

Sidney gladly does what was asked of him and delivered. His mouth travels from your chin before nestlin’ down one of your buds just as his hands roamed your body before landing on your thigh, positioning himself in front of your entrance. 

Sidney hovers back on top of you, meeting your lips yet again, finally thrusting inside you. Your walls overwhelming his senses in a snap as you choke his thick length, making the two of you gasp in between each other’s mouths. 

“Sidney, please.”  you beg underneath his weight. He pulls out just to push back slowly, easing himself through your tight walls. “Always so fucking tight for me, eh?” 

He rests an arm just above your head the other entwined with your fingers, sinking both your bodies in his sheets once his thrusts progressed at a pace both your bodies exactly needed. 

Your wails went in sync with Sidney’s antagonizing groans. Admittedly not helping you straighten your mind for it did nothing but worsen your hunger to have him. He rests his forehead on yours, sharing beads of sweat whilst he continues to pump himself through you. In and out, just like you need him to. 

As he further himself inside you, hitting your end over and over again right on the very spot that only shows how much he knows you and your body and how you communicate with him without having to say a word other than your moans and his name leaving your lips as a curse. 

Your fingers ran and dug on his back the closer you feel yourself reaching your own high. Your eyes swell with tears, overwhelmed with the feeling Sidney has been pouring you all night with. Letting his touches resonate within you, sending you a well-received message of how much you mean to him. Perhaps, more than you will ever know. 

You were it. And for once in his life, after all the years he’s spent alone; nights spent with his arms wrapped around the wrong people, he finally found someone that was able to make him feel so much more than he thought he could ever do.

“I’m coming.” You breathed out just as you finally let yourself collapse beneath him. Your legs shaking with ecstasy whilst you let Sidney pump himself inside you faster now that he feels nothing but your throbbing walls retching him whole. 

“God, y/n.” He grunts, biting his lower lip as you feel his body tensed up, his jaw clenching, and his biceps filling your palm like stones.

“Come for me, baby.” You pant, meeting his gaze before he shuts his eyes once he finally lets go and fill your walls with all of his juices, coating it all and letting it sit as he lets his body collapse on top of you. 

You let out a small laugh at how flushed and hot his cheeks were once he buries himself on the side of your head. You sweetly plant a kiss on his cheeks and he meets your irises with a gentle gaze. 

He makes his way down shortly, pecking on your shoulder before pulling himself up again to release his shaft from your core. 

“Wait for me, okay?” He says at once, savoring how his cum spills from your lips, fashioning your slit with a sight that only leaves Sidney wanting for more. 

Nonetheless, he knew you were tired. He strut his way back to the master bath to get a warm cloth that ought to clean you up. You, on the other hand, propped yourself up, letting your weight sit on both your arms as you admire the scenery of Sidney Crosby’s ass. 

He walks back towards you with a smile, his face glowing with the post-sex rush, holding a white gentle cloth that ended cleaning you down your clit, making you gasp instantly upon contact. 

Sidney then throws the cloth with the pile of mess you won’t bother cleaning up until morning. Once he was settled with you in bed, he takes you in his arms with the same gentleness he’s never failed to give you whenever you’re in his embrace. You rest your head on his arm, your hand safely placed atop his chest, content and satisfied in each other’s presence.

Now with both of your breathing settled and steady, exhaustion slowly catching on, Sidney places a soft kiss on your temple as you bask in each other’s arms, finally letting yourselves drift off to sleep.