#to double check that I’m doing it correctly

[gxyhxrror]

I’m the type of autistic person who needs you to spell out what you want from me, especially when it’s instructions or you making a decision.

[januaryembrs]

hot chocolate!

(last one i promise)

reader & spencer who aren’t exactly enemies but they’re def not friends but reader always double checks if spencer’s fbi vest is secured correctly which in return makes spencer check her over as well and they’re always like ‘stop checking up on me and worry about your own safety’ and it just happens every single time and they swear up and down that they dislike eachother deeply (they need to make out)

BANE OF MY EXISTENCE | Spencer Reid x reader

description: Spencer hates you, and you hate him, until it comes to protecting each other in the field

length: 0.7k

His fingers wound through the back of your vest as you made a move to dart past him, trailing after Hotch as you loaded your glock. 

You felt a yank at your neck, his obnoxiously long arms giving you a firm tug back with little to no effort, all but making you stumble backwards as he forced you to stop, and his fingers were at your hip, adjusting the strap before you could ask him just exactly what he was doing. 

“Wha- Reid, let go, my vest is fine,” You snapped, huffing when he ignored you, in the interest of fixing your belt, his brow turned down into a frown. 

“Don’t come crying to me when you get shot in abdomen and suddenly you’re bleeding out, and you lay there and thinking, dang if only the smart FBI would have told me to adjust my kevlar, and I’ll be right there to point and laugh and say I told you so,” He huffed, his fingers making light work of the fiddly strap, tightening it until he couldn’t see a single inch of your shirt to the point he heard your breathing constrict, but he thought he’d rather you be a little uncomfortable than shot. 

“I mean, if I’m laying bleeding out I won’t really have much to say other than, Reid, get medical, I think they hit something serious, please don’t come to my funeral, you were insufferable enough when I was living,” You said, allowing your body to be tugged back as he started on the other side, because there was no use fighting it when he got in those moods when he always needed to be right. 

He paused, his brain catching up to your words and he drew in a silent breath, wondering if the other side of your jacket needed tightening even more, or better yet, if there was any way Hotch would make you stay in the car as back up. 

Spencer yanked the strap with a vendetta, ignoring the way you whined it was too tight, and his lips pursed together. 

“Would you relax, I was clearly kidding,” You said, thinking his mood had come from your teasing, because you seemed to know exactly what to say to push every one of his buttons, “What I would probably be thinking however is if you’ll be able to flag down a medic with your shoelaces untied,”

His gaze snapped to his converse, and sure enough the double knot he relied on seemed to have failed him, and his strings were hazard material as they dragged along the pavement, already mucky where they’d probably been undone for hours. 

“Make sure you do them before we move in, I’m not carrying your bone head out of there if we start taking hits and you trip over your own feet,” You snipped, and he finally released you, immediately leaning down to fix his own issues, completely missing the way your eyes trailed down to make sure he did the loops tight enough because you were being serious when you said it would loathe you to be the one to carry him away from the danger, though probably not in the way he thought. 

He huffed, standing back to his full height and giving his feet a wiggle in their shoes to make sure they were comfortable, and he looked back at you where you were watching him carefully, catching the split second where something close to worry pooled in your eyes. 

It snapped back into your usual cold demeanour when you realised he was looking straight at you, and you whirled you keep your back to him, inspecting your loaded gun some more as a way to busy yourself. 

“Try not to miss, it doesn’t look good on the reports when I have to save your ass twice,” Spencer snarked, and he practically heard the scoff before you even gave it. 

“That was one time, Reid, and it was only cause I couldn’t see past your stupid fluffy hair. You’re a cop, Reid, not a poodle, you don't need that much volume,” You snapped back, the two of you squabbling the entire walk to the building, until Hotch separated you for the sake of his growing headache. 

He just wished you two would talk things out before he seriously considered Emily’s proposition of locking you in the broom closet together.

[lulunothulu]

“He’s trained, what can I say?”

Summary: Jake likes a routine. So much so that you thought it would be funny to condition him to thinking that every time you have sweats on, you’re wearing the filthiest lingerie underneath.

Contents: eluding to sex, just cute fluff

A/N: I got this idea from a post I saw of a girl saying that she conditioned her bf to think this and thought it was hilarious 😂 ENJOY A HORN DOG HANGMAN!!

“Damn Darlin’,” Jake cat calls. “You look mighty fine tonight.”

You had invited Rooster and his wife (your bff) over for for a movie/game night and were wearing a pair of Jake’s sweats and a sweatshirt.

You smile down at him from where he sits on the couch, planting a kiss on his lips.

“Thank you,” you sweetly tell him. You wave Rooster’s wife over to the kitchen to help you get the snacks, leaving the men to talk about work.

“Why did it look like Jake was about to jump your bones?” She asks with a grin.

“Remember that tweet I told you about? The one with that one girl who conditioned her boyfriend to thinking that she had something sexy underneath her sweats?” You start to tell her.

“You didn’t…” she snickers. 

“Oh I did,” you smile.

It started off as an experiment. You wanted to see if you could train Jake into thinking you had something sexy underneath your sweats after you saw that tweet.

You began by sending him pictures while he was at work. Nothing too scandalous, just “which set do you think is underneath?” pics of you in sweats. And only revealing it when he’d actually guess.

Then it turned into a game. Every time you’d send him a picture in sweats, he’d excitedly immediately guess the lingerie. BUT you’d only reveal it when he guessed correctly.

Finally, you stopped wearing my anything underneath at all. You’d send the picture, teasing him with a little under boob or the tan line of your bikini. That would send him into a spiral, and he’d FaceTime you a few seconds later, begging you to show him more while he stroked his erection.

“I’m about to do unholy things to you when I get home,” he’d say. Which to be honest, got you going so thoroughly, you’d do it to reel him into sexy time. (And boy did he deliver when he got home.)

Now, in the kitchen, you feel your phone blow up in your pocket before checking the screen. You stifle a laugh and show Y/BFF/N.

“Oh my god,” she laughs, covering her mouth and doubling over.

What did it say?

Jakey Poo: when I get my hands on you later tonight, you better be ready to hold onto the headboard.

“You turned him into such a horn dog!” She laughs.

You shrug and say, “He’s trained, what can I say?”

[clefairysoup]

Bells Ring

spencer reid x gn reader

genre - Fluff!

a/n - warning I can’t really write!Yes this is named after my favourite mazzy stars song because i dont know how to name fics. please give me feed back on anything you think i could improve on. I got this idea from a writing prompt list so if someone has done this idea im sorry!

It had been a peaceful bliss of the early stages of yours and Spencer’s relationship, him being the gentlemen he is always looking out for you, loving and doting on you. In fact it had been a little bit too peaceful.

Although you had never told the team that you were seeing each other. Every morning if you weren’t able to travel to work together, Spencer would bring your favourite baked goods in for you. Throughout the day you would each go in turns to the kitchenette to get two hot drinks one for you and one extremely sugary coffee for Spencer.

During cases you would sneak into each others hotel rooms to spend time together even to do something as small as reading a book in the same room tother, you both found peace in one and others presence. Spencer had also been more cautious with you going out into the field always double checking your vest for you, making sure it was on correctly.

This somehow didn’t seem to catch the eyes of profilers. Although you and Spencer had been close friends for as long as you had been in the Bau, they never presumed you nor Spencer would have the courage to actually date one and other.

That is until now you have your chair rolled up to Spencers desk. The both of you have been talking away about the episode of Star Trek you watched last night at Spencers for the entirety of your lunch break, not having even touched your food yet.

Emily who was sitting in her seat at her desk, and Derek who was leaning on her desk both watch in confusion.

“Okay how did we not realise pretty boy and girl were dating?” Derek states still not able to keep his eyes away from you two who still unawarely talking away to each other.

“I feel so stupid” Emily sighs turning away to sip on her coffee.

Rossi who had been walking past from the kitchenette getting his lunch,

“I bet you do, they have been doing this for 2 months. I think I’m going to have to assign you two some homework”.

Reblogs and feedback I appreciate

[kairoot]

hiii i saw that ur requests r open (ps ur theme is so cool wtf), so maybe enjoyen hcs for hickey prank? or any tiktok kinda prank i think it would be so funny

ENHYPEN, the hickey.

genre: crack, fluff, kind of suggestive (?) not really

warnings: ! not smut ! (kinda obvious but i had to clarify.), hickies, kissing

requested: yes! by this lovely anon 🤍

pairing: enha x gn!reader

author’s note: thank you so much for that, it really means a lot! 😭🤍 and thank u so so much for requesting!

ss ➜ pulling the hickey prank on enha + their reactions

heeseung — ;

did not think it was funny

like at all.

literally gives you the most stalest expression ever 😭

i feel like he’d sulk for at least an hour after that 💀

no cause why’d you scare him like that..

you stood at the stove in the kitchen, making dinner as heeseung got himself a glass of water. he started talking to you about his friends and the game until he glanced at you, just checking if you were listening since your responses were short.

“yeah, and jake—“ he did a double take, as he was sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

placed on your neck was a dark red mark, some purple surrounding it.

“go ahead, hee. i’m listening.” your eyes were still on the pot and your ingredients, so you weren’t really sure why he stopped talking (you knew why he had stopped talking 💀).

“what is that?” his tone changed, more serious now rather than the care-free tone he had before.

“what’s what, baby?” you looked up at him for the first time, seeing his eyes focused on the mark.

he placed a hand around your waist, pulling you in to him so he could analyze the mark more, “this.”

“i didn’t put that there.” he looked back up at you, eyebrows knitted together in confusion and irritation. you bit back a laugh as you avoided his gaze.

“i don’t know, hee, you do a lot of things. you probably put it there late last night.” you shrug, continuing to add ingredients to your dish.

“what is that supposed to mean- no, i didn’t put that there. definitely not last night.” he was actually getting kind of angry now. who were you with besides him?

“it didn’t just appear there itself, did it?” you question nonchalantly.

“i don’t know, you tell me, y/n.” he said, releasing his hold on you and beginning to walk away. your laugh finally escaped as you turned to grab his hand.

“hee, baby, it’s a joke. look.” you giggle, taking his hand and running it across the fake mark. red and purple eyeshadow stained his thumb as he just stared at you.

“..that’s not funny, y/n. like, at all.” he said dryly, his expression making you hold your stomach as more cackles came out.

jay — ;

jays’ actually hurt by this

but is soooo embarrassed when he finds out it’s a joke 💀

im ngl he’ll probably sulk like hee

but will actually laugh with you

is just glad it was a joke

you had your camera recording everything as your phone sat in your lap.

you and jay were taking a trip to the movies and he decided to drive which was the perfect time to pull this prank.

the car ride was a bit quiet at first, the rain in the back and the low distant sound of music coming from the radio. you and jay conversed here and there but it was mostly comfortable silence.

so when you arrived at the theater, jay reached over to help you take off your seatbelt. it was just something he liked to do; putting your seatbelt on and taking it off for you.

when he reached over, he caught a glimpse of something on your neck. he had to blink extra hard to make sure he was seeing correctly.

“wait,” he halted his actions, placing a hand gently on your collarbone. “did i do this?”

you didn’t respond, pretending to not know what he was talking about. until he spoke again.

“i didn’t do this. why is that there, babe?” he asked, a waver in his voice.

“jay, what are you talking about?” you shifted away from his touch, looking in the other direction. he looked at you in confusion. did you not want him touching you now?

“y/n, look at me.” he attempted to look at the mark again, but instead you moved away from him once more. so he sat back in his seat, thinking about what just happened.

“did you see someone else?” jay held his breath, waiting for your answer. there was a long silence before you responded.

“what?”

he gave you a look that said, ‘you know exactly what i said 🙁’. but instead of answering back, he started the car again, starting to back out of the theater parking lot.

“jay, wait!” your hand lands on his when it comes down to shift the gearstick in reverse. you bring the camera up so it’s in his vision.

he stares at the camera and back at you, “what?”

you hold back your laugh, rubbing the makeup off your neck. you show him the stains on your fingers as he realizes what the camera was for.

he breaks into a smile, covering his face in embarrassment.

“are you serious, y/n..”

jake — ;

jake is like on the verge of tears 😭

NAH LIKE BRO IS SO SCARED

cause he doesn’t wanna lose you neither does he want to be cheated on

even after he finds out it’s a prank, he’s whining and pouting

you better give him some love after that cruel prank

you and jake were laying in bed, cuddled with each other. his head was in the crook of your neck, giving you little kisses.

he didn’t know that you were recording the whole thing so you tried your best not to laugh. you pretended to watch the movie on the screen that was long forgotten, but in reality, you were just watching his reaction through the camera.

he continued to place kisses on your neck, giggling while doing so, until he saw the hickey.

“wait, babe,” he lifted his head, examining the bruise. you hummed in response, lowering the camera so he wouldn’t see.

“i was only kissing you.. why is there a hickey?” jake‘a brows furrowed in confusion, glancing up at you.

“i don’t know, jake. you were down there for a long time, maybe you put it there without realizing.”

now he sat up all the way, looking down at you.

“babe, i think i would know if my lips latched onto your skin or not.” he said, his voice turning whiney. he folded his arms, a pout on his lips.

“please don’t tell me you let someone else kiss you.”

you put on a faux offensive tone, “jake?! i would never!”

he glared at you, still pouting so the glare wasn’t intimidating at all.

“y/n, that was so fake.” he began to climb off the bed. “i’m going to jay’s.”

you quickly sat up, tugging on his hoodie, “babe, it’s not real.”

he turned around only to see the camera facing him. he took his finger and rubbed it across the “hickey”, smudging it.

he threw his head back, whining before flopping back on the bed, “y/n, don’t do that! you almost gave me a heart attack.”

is actually upset, please cuddle him so hard 😭

sunghoon — ;

already knows it’s a prank

not because he heard you planning it or anything but he just knows

nothing gets passed him atp

is still annoyed that you would even think to pull something like that tho 💀

you and sunghoon were getting ready to go on a date, so obviously you were in the mirror the whole time, trying to make sure your appearance was okay.

before sunghoon got home, you had already painted the fake hickey on your neck so maybe he could see before or after you arrive at the restaurant.

you made sure your outfit was low around the neck area so he could see perfectly.

standing in the mirror, you adjust your clothes to your liking and fixed your hair so it wasn’t all over the place.

sunghoon stood in the doorway of the bathroom, looking at you.

“you ready?” he asked, fixing the buttons on his shirt.

“now i am.” you looked at yourself one more time, before gathering your things into a bag.

hoon walked up behind where you stood in the mirror, looking at your neck. you caught a glimpse of him as he studied the mark, smiling to yourself.

until he smudged the mark with one of his fingers and walked away.

“i’m way too good for you to want hickies from someone else.” he snorted.

you literally just stood there like🧍🏽‍♀️

sunoo — ;

is actually disgusted

like ew, you were kissing somebody else ?!!!

when he finds out it’s a prank, expect him to be sassy (sassy men in 2023 man 😞)

ignrores you on purpose afterwards

how dare you play with his heart like that ?!

sunoo had came in from the grocery store, placing the bags on the floor. once he saw you come downstairs from hearing the door, he smiled.

“hi, baby.” he pulled you in for a tight hug as if he hadn’t seen you in ages. you hugged back, kissing his cheek.

“so, how was your d-“ you began as he gently pushed you away for a second.

“y/n, what the hell?” his face contorted in disgust and annoyance.

“what?” your eyebrows come together as your eyes try to follow what he’s looking at. “what is it, babe?”

“uh, you can’t call me ‘babe’ after i just saw that.” he started walking to the living room, your steps not too far behind his. “i know for a fact, i didn’t put that there.”

“nunu, what are you talking about?” you laugh a bit, taking a seat next to him on the couch. he scoots away from you, folding his arms.

he doesn’t respond but opens his phone instead.

“sunoo?” no response.

he scoffs, starting to get out of his seat on the couch.

“stop, wait,” you hold your stomach, laughing.

“seriously, y/n, you’re so gross. what about this is funny?” he points to the mark on your chest.

“i’m sorry, i just-“ you snort, rolling off the couch.

he’s literally just standing there, giving you the biggest side eye.

“okay, i’m sorry. um, it’s a joke-“ you could hardly get your words out, tears prickling your eyes at this point. you rubbed the mark away, showing him the now blank spot where the mark once was.

he’s still just standing there, looking at you up and down.

“you’re still gross.”

jungwon — ;

he’s hurt but is actually really calm about it

would probably want you to leave

when he finds out it’s a prank he’s like🧍🏽‍♀️that’s what i thought

will smother you with love afterwards cause you’re his and only his

you were standing in the kitchen, making yourself and jungwon some lunch before he came and joined you.

he wrapped his arms around you, gifting you with a warm back hug. he snuggled his face in the crook of your neck, placing a couple of tiny kisses there.

“hi.” he said in a groggy voice, indicating that his nap had ended. you greeted him back, smiling at his cuteness.

there was a silence before you felt him step away from your back, hands coming up to your waist to spin you around.

he slightly moved your shirt so he could see what the darkness on your neck was.

“y/n..” his voice trailed off, all the grogginess now gone.

you attempted to turn back around, his grip preventing you from doing so.

“it’s just a mosquito bite, wonie-“ you started to say, trying to move his hand away from your shirt.

“no, that’s a hickey, babe. i can see it.” he frowned, hands leaving your shirt and waist.

he stood there for a moment, looking down before speaking again. “i think you should leave.”

“jungwon-“ your hand came to touch his wrist before he moved it out of your grasp.

“seriously, y/n.”

“jungwon, it’s a joke, baby. i’m not leaving you.” you grabbed a towel, scrubbing the makeup off of the side of your neck.

he blinked, pressing his lips together. he stood there for a minute, processing the prank, letting his heart rate go down a little bit.

“that wasn’t funny.” he smiled, holding his chest. “now come here so i can give you some real ones.”

ni-ki — ;

his actual response is “bruh wtf is that🧍🏽‍♀️”

NO LIKE HE ACTUALLY SAYS THAT

gives you the biggest side eye when you tell him it’s a prank

expect him to get you back with another prank

since you have your own car, you decided to pick niki up instead of the other way around. your phone was set on the dashboard, so it looked like you were just filming a little vlog (+ he already knew you liked to film some of your daily life so he didn’t think much of it).

when you arrived outside his dorm, he hopped in the passenger seat, giving you a quick peck. he gave the camera a wave before turning back to you.

“why tf do you have a scarf on right now?” he snorted, hands coming up to remove it.

when you blocked his hand, he stared at you in confusion.

“y/n, it’s literally like 88 degrees outside..”

“okay? i’m cold. plus, it goes with my outfit.” you shrugged, starting the car up again.

“no.. tf it doesn’t-“ he took the scarf away from you, doing a triple take when he saw your neck.

he placed a hand on your chin, turning your head so he could see better.

“y/n, what is that, omg-“ he turned your head more, getting a good look at the mark.

you swat his hand away, turning back forward and putting your scarf across your neck.

“nothing, it’s a rash.”

“i don’t even give you hickies so how did that get there?” he ignored your attempt at lying to him.

“niki, it’s not a hickey. it’s a-“ he took the scarf back in his grasp, trying to tug it away from you.

“babe, calm down, it’s a joke.” you giggled, letting him grab the scarf. you smudge the mark, the makeup now on your fingers.

he stared at you from his side of the car, “so it’s funny?” his reaction only made you snort more.

[overtake]

a black lace bralette 💜

CW: Infidelity through unintentional but also definitely intentional sexting

Max doesn’t send Daniel the photo deliberately.

Kelly watched too many videos about minimalism, got inspired, and is doing a massive closet clean out. Their bedroom is littered with fabric. Max doesn’t even know how half these items even fit on a human body. They’re a confusing mess of zippers and strings.

Kelly gave up on asking his opinion about three dresses in — somehow, “you look beautiful,” is the wrong answer when you say it more than once, and she banished him to the sim.

“I’m going to drop some of these off with friends and get dinner with them,” she says, holding up a bag of clothes and giving him a quick kiss. “Would you mind just taking the rest of the clothes and putting them in a box?”

Max rolls his neck and shoulders, then dutifully stands up from his chair. “Of course.”

She thanks him with another kiss then floats out the door. Max probably won’t see her for at least a few hours, but he’d rather get this out of the way quickly so he can get back to gaming.

He grabs an abandoned cardboard box and begins recklessly throwing things in, paying no mind to his work until his fingers catch on the neat edges of lace tucked inside a silky pink dress.

He carefully picks the item out and examines it, trying to determine if this was included deliberately or not. It’s a delicate black bralette with a pretty little flower detail over the place nipples would sit. He’s never seen Kelly wear this, and for good reason. The band is visibly too wide for her small frame, which means he should definitely toss it in the box. There are tags on it and everything.

He swallows, then tosses it back on the bed. It doesn’t hurt to double check, just in case.

When the bed is clear, he carefully spreads the fine lace over the stark white sheets and takes a photo. He keeps the tag in the frame so she can see the size.

Max Verstappen: This was tucked inside a dress. Looks big enough to fit me 😂 Keep or donate?

He attaches the photo and clicks send, then very intentionally does not check his phone again until after he’s closed up the box and heated up some dinner.

Daniel Ricciardo: Well. If you’re asking me, keep.

Daniel Ricciardo: I’d have to see it on first. It is your size after all …

Daniel Ricciardo: Might look good under this year’s polos

Max drops his fork with a clang and scrolls up to see that yeah, he’d clicked into his text thread with Daniel instead of Kelly. Amazing. Beautiful.

With Daniel, acting embarrassed about it would only make the situation worse. The best move with him, 100% of the time, is to lean into it.

He checks the time, then Kelly’s location. They haven’t even made it to a restaurant yet. Her dot is still firmly inside her friend’s building. She doesn’t always get his friendship with Daniel and the kind of humour they share, and this one would be especially tough to explain if she walked in on it.

He cuts one last look to the front door then slithers back to the bedroom. He yanks out one of the several navy polos hanging on his sparse side of the closet and tosses it onto the bed alongside the wrinkled shirt he was just wearing.

He reaches out three fingers and scoops up the bralette with them, letting it dangle in the air as he tries to figure out how to put it on. There’s no clasp, just some kind of elastic, so he figures he just has to pull it on over his head.

He adjusts it in his hands so the small triangles face the front, then goes for it. He gets a little tangled up in it first try, has to pull it back up to successfully place a complicated x-shape across his back, but he gets it settled. It’s a bit too tight on him, but it fits.

He adjusts the bra so everything is settled correctly and sitting right, then tugs the polo on without daring to look down at the lace on its own.

He pulls up the thread with Daniel, opens the camera, and takes a picture with the shirt tugged open just enough to see the black straps peeking out.

Max Verstappen: What do you think? Will I be best-dressed?

Daniel sends something back almost immediately, which is unusual for him. He’s normally a slow texter.

Daniel Ricciardo: Think I have to see it without the polo to really decide. Very fashion-forward, though.

Max’s body is warm all over, small beads of sweat starting to collect in the pits of his shirt. He can’t explain what comes over him. He moves on instinct, no thought, no consideration of what the existence of a picture like this could do to him if it got leaked.

He props up his phone on the bed, pulls off the polo, and sits in front of the camera. He’s learned a few things in his years as an Instagram boyfriend, and the self-timer is one. He clicks the three-second option and leans his torso forward a little so the bralette takes up more of the frame.

He can see it now, the full effect. The bra being too tight means it pushes the extra fat on his pecs closer together. His arms are pressed against his side, which furthers the effect of his barely-there-but-definitely-there tits. The black lace is a harsh contrast to his pale skin, but the flushed pink on his neck and chest soften it a little. The band digs into his flesh, but it doesn’t look bad on camera.

His athletic shorts look dumb in comparison, he thinks. He crops the photo just below the soft curve of hips, enough to cut out the mesh but keep his full upper body in the frame. The photo doesn’t capture his face — he’s not totally stupid, even if this photo is only going to Daniel — but you can see the barest hint of his unshaven stubble.

Max Verstappen: So? Think the team will go for it?

He watches Daniel type, then stop, then type again. It goes on for one minute, two, three, before he finally gets a voice memo. It’s only four seconds long, but he drops his phone on the bed and lets it play from there.

Daniel clearly has his retainer in, his words slightly lisped in that distinct way they do when his tongue hits plastic.

“I think you should bring that to Baku,” he says. He sounds like he’s aiming for a joke, and is halfway there, but his voice is straining at the end of the sentence.

Max lets out one long, shuddering breath. The lace feels too restrictive, indenting his skin like damning proof instead of an elaborate joke. He pulls it off, then crumbles the material and stuffs it inside the polo on his bed so he doesn’t have to look at it any longer.

He has to answer. He can’t leave Daniel on read, with this half-serious thing sitting between them, but he also can’t play it off entirely. It’s not — he’s happy. He’s in a good, healthy relationship with someone he loves. He stopped letting himself wonder about Daniel years ago, gave into the reality that Daniel’s jokes would never mean as much as Max used to think they might.

Max Verstappen: Maybe I will, maybe I won’t

Max Verstappen: You’ll have to get my polo off on Thursday to see 😜

He searches the emoji keyboard for wink, selects one with extreme caution. He thinks it strikes the correct balance of joking and flirty.

Daniel types, then stops, then types all over again.

Daniel Ricciardo: I love a challenge. See you Thursday.

The conversation ends there. Max finishes his now-cold dinner, tapes up the box for donation, and joins his friends for a few quick rounds of FIFA. He doesn’t tell Kelly about the bra and doesn’t delete the photo from his phone. Instead, he takes the polo with the black lace inside, opens the corner of his already-packed suitcase, and stuffs it inside.

[thinkabouttheimplications]

I don’t remember the source so I can’t double check this but I remember that somewhere it said that game changer eps are given ratings so that the cast can choose what level of insanity they wanna be a part of without knowing the specifics of the ep? If I’m remembering that correctly do we know what the ratings were? There’s so many different types of insanity in game changer I’m fascinated by how that would translate into a linear scale

[lumosinlove]

Write Me In

Part Three

The next day, Leo had packed his suitcase up and double-checked that he’d entered the tiny phone numbers into his phone correctly six times. Then, with a cup of coffee made from the room’s shitty machine, he spent twenty minutes trying to draft his text to a group chat.

What did he say? What covered how he felt? Hi? This week was incredible? I don’t want to leave. I don’t want you to leave. I feel like we didn’t even say goodbye, I feel like I didn’t get to finish, when you’re back can we schedule—

And then one of the numbers was flashing up on his screen. He didn’t know which. Finn hadn’t given him names to match them to.

Leo stared at it for a good long moment, then hit answer.

“Hi—Hello?”

“Hey! Or, good morning, if you’re Logan,” Finn’s voice said. “We’re outside in the front area.”

Leo looked at himself in the mirror above his hotel room’s desk. “I—what?”

He’d assumed the car Finn had promised was going to be for him, not contain Logan and Finn.

There was a pause, and then, “Sorry I was drinking coffee. I got you one, just milk. I said we’re outside and ready. No rush. Do you need help with your things? Though it’s probably best actually that we don’t get out of the car, I see a bunch of cameras.”

“Oh,” Leo said. “I mean, no, that’s okay. I travel light, um. Okay, cool, I’ll be right down.”

“Sweet,” Finn said. “See you soon.”

Leo stared at his phone as Finn hung up. It was odd, but it wasn’t so odd. They were all going to the airport, why not go together?

Horrible, humid air hit him in the face when the hotel’s automatic doors let Leo outside. Not the nice, heavy kind that felt good on his skin. The thick, unbreathable kind. He could already tell that his hair was going to be a disaster. He let out a sigh at sweat began to prickle across the back of his neck.

“Need a taxi, sir?” asked a doorman.

“No,” Leo said. “Thanks, um, my ride is…”

Two friendly honks sounded out and Leo looked left. Through a slightly tinted window he could see Finn leaning forward between the front seats with a grin on his face and his hand on the horn.

“There,” Leo finished. He smiled at the sight. “Thanks, though.”

“Salut,” Logan said once their driver shut Leo’s door.

Leo looked between them. The car was large and spacious. Finn was next to Leo and Logan sat across from him. They both looked soft and plane-ready. Sweatpants, t-shirts. Finn had a baseball cap on that said evermore, and Logan had sunglasses pushed into his dark hair.

“Hi,” Leo said.

“Hi.” Finn held up a bag and coffee. “Muffin? They’re the best in this city.”

Leo laughed. “Wow. Yeah, thanks. Five star treatment.” He peaked inside. It smelled amazing. The coffee had just the right amount of milk.“And thanks for the ride, too. You guys didn’t have to do this, I could have found my own way.”

Logan got this beautiful sort of smile on his face. Half sweet, half disbelieving. “To Nice?”

Leo didn’t react to that right away. He was distracted by the bite he’d taken. Yeah, they’d definitely browned the butter.

Then it sunk in.

He looked at Logan. “What?”

“You were going to find your own way to my family’s house in Nice?”

Leo knew his mouth paused half way through chewing. He knew he probably looked stupid but— “What?”

“Easier if you’re with us,” Finn said. “Much easier.”

Leo looked between the two of them. “You…Wait. What?”

Finn’s eyebrows pinched together. “What?”

“I’m…” Leo swallowed, the food suddenly dry in his throat. “I’m going to Nice with you?”

“Ouais, of course,” Logan said.

Finn leaned forward. “I said we were going to Nice.”

“No, you said you were going,” Leo said.

“I said we.”

“I thought that meant you and Logan.”

“Non, we,” Logan said. “Our week isn’t done.”

“I…” Leo hesitated. “You want me to come on your vacation? That doesn’t sound very relaxing.”

Logan tilted his head at him. “How would you know? You haven’t tried it yet.”

“You…don’t want to come?” Finn glanced at Logan like he was worried.

“No, no. I mean—yeah, yes.” Leo laughed lightly. “Yes, I’d love to come, wow, thanks. I just…”

“Just what?”

“Don’t you…” Leo didn’t know how else to put it. “Don’t you want to be alone?”

Logan reached forward and put his hand in the bag on Leo’s lap, stealing a piece of his breakfast.

“Non, this one annoys me,” Logan said, and popped the piece into his mouth with a smile when Finn scoffed.

~

The house was gorgeous. It was more than gorgeous. The plane had been gorgeous. The boys had been gorgeous on the plane. Pleased with their music and their shows. Excited for the time off. Logan and his massive headphones, Finn with his nose in a book. Leo took the time to type up some more of his piece. A vacation setting change. He didn’t think he’d ever added that to a piece before.

Before he knew it, they were sitting on a cliffside terrace. There was a fire pit, unlit just then, and the sound of the waves crashing beneath them. The house was stone, the tiles terracotta and painted. It was open, one level, and seemingly perfectly suited to Logan. He looked…so good in its walls. Finn, too. Like in Finn’s apartment, Leo wanted to live in this kitchen. The fridge was stocked with cheeses and fruit. Beautiful cuts of pork and steak. The spiciest were vast, the herbs fresh or drying overhead, clipped to a delicate strand of wire above the sink. Potatoes and onions and garlic had dark, cool shelves beneath the counters. A wine fridge held ruby chilled reds and crystal whites. Looking over the sea, as they did now, the wind was heaven, warm and salty. Leo brought his Daiquiri—thank you, Finn O’Hara—to his mouth and tried to believe that he was sitting here in current company.

“You’re going to need some clothes,” Logan said suddenly. “Aren’t you?”

“I have t-shirts and shorts, if that’s what you mean.” Leo smiled. “It’s maybe the most beautiful form of summer here, but it is summer other places.”

“Swim suit?” Finn asked. He was messing around on his guitar and Leo was trying to keep how in heaven he was off his face. Finn kept playing all his favorite songs and the lyrics surged right into Leo’s head and made him wish he was a good singer.

“You got me there,” Leo said. “But if there’s a town I could go to—”

“Ouais,” Logan said—in the most enthusiastic voice Leo had heard from him yet. “I have to show you. Listen, I’m going to ruin you for other restaurants, because nothing beats Adeline’s.” Logan made a sort of adoring, scoffing sound. “C’est—It’s perfect. And we’ll buy you everything.”

“Everything? All I need is a bathing suit,” Leo laughed.

Logan looked at him for a moment, green eyes still bright, then shrugged and sipped his drink. “Well. Everything you want, then.”

As the sun began to set, Leo figured he owed Cassie a call so she could…well. Take care of everything else while Finn O’Hara made him drinks and played guitar and Logan Tremblay tried to buy him everything he wants, apparently—whatever in hell that meant—and showed him the gorgeous, sea-view bedroom he was now pacing back and forth in. He caught Finn’s loud laugh through his door and bit down on his lower lip through a smile. They probably looked amazing in the sunset. Leo wanted to write about that.

“Why are you in Logan Tremblay’s family home?” Cassie answered her phone with.

“What? How the hell did you—”

“I track you, I track your every move, Knut. Now don’t what me, you what!”

“I…” Leo pushed a hand through his hair and squinted out at the sea. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m in Nice. I thought they were flying me home, but apparently I’m…here. Coming with them.”

“Are you allowed to keep reporting? Like, is this still the job, or…”

“What else would it be?”

Cassie let out a breath that ruffled through Leo’s speaker. “I don’t know, you tell me. You all seem very…enamored, I guess.”

“Enamored.”

“Yeah, frankly.”

“You mean me,” Leo said. “Meanie.”

“I mean all three of you,” Cassie said seriously. “I’ve read the draft sections you sent me. O’Hara and Tremblay are handsy and sweet and…yeah enamored.”

We chose you.

“Cas…” Leo glanced behind him at the door. He’d told them about Cassie, that she read his work and would therefore read about them, but he still wanted to be as careful as ever until they told him otherwise. “They’re together.”

“Yeah, and someone totally wants both of them.”

“I do not—“ Leo glanced at the door again. She was in his headphones alone but he still felt the flush of nervousness through his entire body. “I don’t.”

“Okay, well, good. Because I don’t know how that ends for you, and I only want happy endings for you from now on.” Cassie was silent for a moment. “Just…I know who they are to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, be careful. I’ve seen you heartbroken before.”

We chose you.

“I’m not going to be heartbroken. Cassie, they’re—they’re such a…thing. A unit. There’s no room for—I’m not like that for them.”

“They’re taking you on vacation. I mean…They could be alone right now and yet here you are. They obviously want something.”

“They’re…” Leo pressed a palm over his eyes, sighing. Of course he’d considered this. Thought it through, wondered why. He’d met stars like this before. He knew he was handsome. He knew his job was to make people feel intimate and connected with him. He knew sometimes it worked a little too well. “Yeah. Well, I’d never let any of my clients do something they’ll regret later. Whatever it is, a bit of a fun, a bit of…” Leo pressed his back teeth together and tried to imagine saying no if Finn and Logan offered…If they wanted to…If he was here because they liked him enough to want…what exactly?

“I won’t,” Leo said again firmly. “I won’t let anything…happen. Sometimes they just think they want me, you know it’s happened before.”

“Leo.”

“I’m professional. As a person.”

“What are you guys doing right now?”

“Having dinner on the pretty ocean.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

Leo bit his cheek. Dinner, swimming, shopping.

“Tell everyone I’m still working, upon request from my clients,” Leo said, and hung up.

He left his phone in his room and took a breath as he shut his door. Cassie. Cassie, Cassie. She wasn’t wrong. She loved him, he knew this, and she wasn’t wrong.

“It’s fine,” Leo said to himself. “It’s fine.”

He turned the way he had come, already drawn by the smell of the salty air from the windows.

He didn’t hear any talking as he rounded the corner, and the fire pit was empty outside. He was confused, and felt a little too alone in this grand house.

First, he noticed that the vast kitchen counter contained more than Finn’s cocktail hour fixings. Chicken breasts in butcher paper. Salt, pepper. Then he found them, tucked into a corner together.

It was a form of the kiss Leo had first seen, opening that dressing room door. A needy sort of thing. Logan had Finn by the hips, pinned against the fridge door. Finn was holding a lemon in one hand and his mostly gone drink in the other—dangerously close to spilling. Logan didn’t seem to care in the slightest. Leo caught a flash of his tongue and Finn made a sound that Leo would very much have liked him to record. The drink spilled.

Leo knew he should clear his throat. Make his presence known. Apologize, or just try to knock—or even go back to his room? But they didn’t look like they were worried about being caught.

What would happen tonight? They’d say goodnight and Leo would go to his room and they would go to theirs, and Leo wouldn’t not think about them sleeping side by side.

The bottom line was that he didn’t have anything to worry about. One look at the two of them, the way Finn’s entire body curved towards Logan, the way Logan pushed up Finn’s t-shirt hem to feel his skin, and Leo was sure they couldn’t have eyes for anyone else.

“Mm,” Finn murmured appreciatively as Logan’s teeth appeared and he—well, it certainly wasn’t a gentle bite. Everything about Logan wasn’t gentle, only, it was, really. “Logan—Leo.”

Leo took quick paces backwards and put a hand to his mouth in case he—what? What on earth sort of sound was he holding in right now?

“Okay,” he heard Finn laugh. “Okay, okay, okay, stop, I’m getting all—Lo.”

“I want you that way,” Logan’s voice said.

Okayokayokay, Leo thought. But there was no more sounds of kissing. Instead, Leo heard the sound of that lemon being cut in half.

“Do you think he likes it here?” Logan said quietly.

“Of course he does,” came Finn’s reply. “I mean, look at you. How could anyone keep their eyes off you…You’re so beautiful here, baby.”

A Logan laugh, the free one from the balcony at the bar after the show. Finn drew that sound out of him, Finn who was everything to Logan. How was it Leo had drawn it out, too?

“Do you think everything’s okay? He’s been gone for a while,” Logan said. “You’re sure he likes it here?”

Leo took one breath. Then another. He opened his bedroom door, shut it loudly, and emerged. Finn and Logan were still shoulder to shoulder, but not kissing.

Finn grinned when he saw him. “Hey.”

Logan’s eyes, already concerned from asking Finn, turned on Leo. “Is everything okay?”

Leo nodded.

You know we chose you, right?

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. He looked at the chicken breast Finn had on a fork and was moving from its wrappings to a glass bowl. He looked for other signs of a meal. Anything. Spices. Flavor. “No, good, just keeping them updated that I’m, like, you know.”

Finn laughed. “Here.”

“Yeah.” My assistant is worried about my heart and thinks you want to—We chose you.

“Is it okay?” Finn asked. “Did we get you in trouble? Because we,” he looked at Logan. “We can call someone. I’ll say, like, I’m being a difficult little rock star and made you come.”

That loosened something in Leo’s chest and he laughed, too—even with half his mind all but screaming at him to ask them what exactly he’d just witnessed. Instead, he walked further into the kitchen and offered Logan, who still looked worried, a reassuring smile.

“No,” Leo said, coming to a stop at Finn’s shoulder. “But you can tell me what the hell you’re trying to do with that.”

Finn stilled as he let the chicken drop into the bowl. “What—Oh. Um. Cook it?”

“Quoi,” Logan said, coming to Leo’s other side. “What does it look like he’s trying to do with it?”

Leo pressed his lips against a smile. “Hm.”

Finn hesitated, then offered him the bowl. “Why? Do you…”

Leo wasn’t going to get his heartbroken. He wasn’t going to break any of his rules, he wasn’t going to mistake starstruck for lovestruck. He wasn’t going to think about Logan and Finn talking about him while making out against a refrigerator. He wasn’t going to do any of those things. He would just…enjoy. Take what he thought was being given until the time came to stop. Restraint. He’d always been good at restraint.

He was going to show these boys a good dinner—and make use of a beautiful kitchen.

He gently nudged Finn out of the way and took the bowl of chicken breasts. A bit of soy sauce. He squeezed an orange over it. Salt, pepper, cumin, paprika, dill. He let it all sit and moved onto a salad and dressing. Watercress, romaine—a delicious looking purple leaf that he didn’t quite have a name for but it tasted divine.

Logan and Finn sat on the other side of the counter and watched.

“Finn,” Leo said.

“Hm,” Finn said, then looked up from Leo’s hands. “Hm, what?”

Leo smiled. “I’ll have another Daiquiri, please.”

Finn all but scrambled to comply. Leo heard the shaker going as he lay the chicken out on a sheet pan with some hot peppers and leeks. By the time it was in the oven, the salad ready to be dressed, and his counters wiped clean, Leo had a drink in his hand and a view of Logan’s bronzed skin in the sunset right beside him.

Right beside him. Logan’s bare knee against his.

“That was like magic,” Finn said as he settled down onto the couch opposite them, the sea at his back. “I’ve never seen someone do that so fast.”

Leo laughed. “I like to cook.”

“It wasn’t even in the oven yet and it smelled good,” Logan said. He leaned forward to pick from the plate of crackers, sweet apricot jam, and cheese. He was sticking mostly to the jam.

“Please tell me you don’t eat your chicken with salt and pepper only.”

Finn winced. “Guilty.”

“Sometimes we forget the pepper, I think,” Logan said.

“Oh my God.”

“We usually get something catered or we’re not even home,” Finn laughed. “I mean, greatest restaurants in the world or cooking at home?” He waved his hands like two sides of a scale.

“After this meal,” Logan said softly. “I think cooking at home.” He raised his glass to his mouth. “If Leo is there, anyway.” He mumbled something in French that Leo was pretty sure translated to something like, I’d never go out again.

“Maybe try it before you say something like that,” Leo replied in French.

Logan’s head jerked to the side to look at him. He looked like Leo had slapped him. Finn looked like Leo had presented them with some prize. A puppy or something.

“What,” Finn began to say.

“What was that?” Logan said in English.

“New Orleans, born and raised,” Leo said, grinning and taking a sip of his drink. “Might not be your French, but it’s something.”

Finn was leaning forward, nearly on the edge of his seat. He laughed and picked up his guitar. “Oh, Lo, baby, you’re loving this.”

Lo baby.

Leo had written in the piece that he sometimes thought he could feel their bond, crackling through the air. Singer, drummer. Oldest of friends. He could feel it here, too. Strongly. It settled over him like a blanket.

“Mais,” Logan was still staring at Leo, as if in a daze. “Ouais. I like being able to speak my own language.”

Leo reached for a cracker. “I thought for sure you’d hate it.”

Logan tilted his head at him. “Non. Why would I?”

“The accent, maybe?”

“Non…Non, the accent is good. Strange. But good. Really, so weird.”

“Well, shucks, thank you, Logan.”

Logan just smiled, eyes down, then stood and walked away.

Leo frowned. “What…”

“Oh, he’s fine,” Finn said from across the way. His red hair was haloed by the orange, burning sky. He looked…God, was there a word for how Finn O’Hara looked?

“Really,” Finn said. “He wants to build you a fire.”

During dinner, which they brought outside to watch the sun make its final appearance, Leo basked in Finn and Logan making a big show of enjoying the food—Finn was ridiculous, but Leo blushed anyway. Logan was quiet, but it was because he was carving bites for himself so quickly that Leo was a little worried.

“Can I ask a question?” Leo said when Logan came out with a bottle of sparkling looking wine.

Logan laughed at him and handed Finn the bottle.

“You baby,” Finn said, but Logan ignored him. “How are you afraid of champagne corks and not fire?”

“Shh, Leo has a question,” Logan said, and sat down beside him again.

“Right,” Leo said. “Yes. My job. I know. But that’s sort of what the question is about.”

“Shoot,” Finn said, his fingers expertly removing the wire from the cork. The liquid was a dark, orange-ish type that looked ice cold and refreshing—a nice contrast against the low, crackling fire Logan had stirred up. Logan and fire were made for each other. Even behind his drum kit, something was always burning, simmering beneath the surface. That was going in Leo’s story.

Finn popped the cork and rose to pour them small, slender glasses full of bubbles.

“Am I still…Is it okay for me to write the story?”

“What? Of course.” Finn handed Leo his glass, Logan his, but he didn’t return to his spot on the opposite couch.

He sat on Logan’s other side so Leo had to turn his body to face them. He tucked his long legs beneath him in the cooler night.

“Okay, I just wanted to check. Our setting changed, you’re not performing.”

“No, right,” Finn said. “But we wanted you to see this side of us.”

Leo nodded. “Yeah.” He kept nodding. “Yeah…”

All the lines he hadn’t wanted to cross, all of the worries about pushing them too far, they seemed far, far behind them. This wasn’t like any of his other stories. This felt so much closer to—to friendship. To trust. And Leo needed to know. He needed to know.

“Are you hoping, in this story, to write about your love?” Leo asked carefully. “Or, I mean, to share?”

They looked at each other. Finn’s hand found Logan’s hip, and Logan covered it with his own. Leo held his breath. He hadn’t realized how badly he wanted to write about this until now, not truly.

“Ouais,” Logan said. “Yeah.” He looked at Leo. “I told you. We chose you.”

Leo sighed out a small laugh. “Logan, I don’t know what that means.”

“We…” Finn spoke up. “He means for this story. Your writing. We chose your voice.”

Oh. Finn O’Hara, choosing his—

“Oh,” Leo whispered.

“Our music, our love, it’s the same,” Finn said. “It feeds into each other. It’s always been like that even when we didn’t…”

Logan closed his eye briefly, then looked back at Leo. And he was crying. I can’t watch what was my fault.

“We’d like to showcase that feeling, not just, like, some random picture of us holding hands or something. Your writing…Leo, reading it is as natural as breathing.” Finn’s brown eyes were syrup in this fire-dark. “Telling you about us was as natural as breathing—”

“Having you here is…” Logan cut in then stopped and looked at Finn like he hadn’t meant to, but Finn nodded. Logan put his drink down. He turned to face Leo more without dislodging Finn’s touch. “Listen. I’m not a loud person, I just play a loud instrument. But talking to you…Believe me, there is one other person I can talk to in that way, and everything I told you, he already knows.” He leaned back into Finn, who bent to press a kiss to his neck. Oh. “But…I wanted you to know and…” Logan blinked, the corners of his mouth turning down. “And I want…We want…Wondered…”

Slowly, almost as if he thought Leo could have missed it the first time, Finn, from his place tucked up against Logan’s body, placed a second kiss to Logan’s neck with his eyes on Leo.

Leo’s entire body seemed to change chemistry. Heat flooded through him so fast that he felt dizzy, his hearing cottony. His heart double-beat, sparks behind his eyes, cheeks burning. The fire was nothing.

He swallowed around a dry throat. “You…Yes. Yes, of course I’ll write it. I’m so, so happy to write it, it would, I mean.” He was stumbling over his words as hard as their first meeting. “Of course it would mean a lot to you, but it would even mean a lot to me.”

Finn smiled at him, all soft. That smile wasn’t too far from Logan’s skin. “Thank you.”

Leo just shook his head and put a hand over his pounding heart. He was happy. Thrilled. And he was also—

“Leo,” Logan said.

The way Logan Tremblay said his name. Lay-oh. Oh, he’d never get tired of it. What had he wondered? Leo felt just a little afraid.

Afraid that Cassie had been right. About it all.

“Yeah?” Leo’s voice came out a whisper. The fire snapped to their right. The ocean crashed far down below. Somewhere in the corner of Leo’s vision, a bird darted past as a shadow.

“This was a good week.”Logan’s voice was as gentle as the wind and firelight on his face. His neck was still bared, but with the hopeful, worried expression in his eyes, it looked just as sweet as anything. “The best.”

Leo could only nod. His mind was a mess of right now, last week, Cassie’s words, and Jack’s. Get the lights, would you?

Because what was happening? This was an invitation, Leo wasn’t stupid. He just didn’t know what kind of invitation it was. Because what was going to happen? Tonight would be tonight, shared and overwhelming and probably so insanely glorious Leo could hardly think about it. And then? He’d write about their love—and it would be a legendary love. Everyone would think so.

And what was he? What would he be?

He had rules, professional ones, yes. But personal ones, too. Get the lights, would you?

“Yes,” Leo said. He set his glass down and his feet back on the ground. He pushed his hair back from his hot face. It didn’t feel the same now. He could feel his throat closing. Get the lights, get the lights. “No, it has been. Truly.”

Silence from beside him. He could just see out of the corner of his eye that they were glancing at each other.

“This is a beautiful place,” Leo said quietly. He meant it. The house. The weather. But their voices were a beautiful place. Their presence was sun to bask in. Their trust for something this personal was something Leo could have walked around in all day. The sight of Finn’s lips on Logan’s neck was a quick shot of sea breeze, a warm hand on a perfect, cool marble counter.

And it was not Leo’s. None of it. And Leo didn’t know if he could make the mistake of thinking something was his when it never would be twice.

He tried not to think of Jack. As ex’s went, there was nothing loud about his horribleness. He’d just been…distant. Unwilling. He’d kiss only in darkness and walk only inches apart. And Leo couldn’t do it again.

Finn spoke first, and his voice sounded like it did when he spoke about Rooftop. “What do you…What do you feel like doing now?”

Leo drew in a shaky breath. “I, um. I think I should probably turn in.” He glanced over with a smile, not lingering long enough to really catch their faces. “But I’m looking forward to tomorrow. And…Yes. Tomorrow.”

Sometimes it felt like his words left him when he needed them most. 

“Okay,” Finn said. “Yeah, me too. We’ll show you.”

“Leo?”

Leo wanted to close his eyes. Lay-oh. It was so soft.

“Yeah?” Leo looked over finally. They were still curled together, almost holding onto each other now. For a moment, he almost forgot who they were. They were just two boys. Two unbearably perfect boys.

“Thank you for dinner,” Logan said.

“Oh.” Leo laughed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “No. Thank you for this.” He looked out at the night sea and forced himself to stand. He took in a last lungful of sea breeze.

“Let us know if you need anything,” Logan said. “There’s towels and there’s a drawer of anything you need in the bathroom, but if something’s…missing, or if you want something, please tell me.” Logan’s green eyes looked vivid in the firelight. “Please tell us.”

“I will,” Leo said. “I…” He shivered as he stepped away from the fire. The stones were cold on his bare feet. “Good night.”

He stepped through the sliding door into the dim house. It smelled good. Piney. Like Logan.

When Leo spared a look back to the fire, their heads were bent together, two doves. A perfect fit.

[libraincarnate]

astrology notes: 11 🌊

quick note: i'm absolutely not an astrologer. these are just a collection of some observations, thoughts, theories, and personal experiences. with that being said, i'm still learning along the way & i may come back to edit this post to make corrections. above all this is just for fun. lastly, keep in mind that i’m not reading your birth chart and i know nothing about you. these are just some possibilities that may or may not apply to you. enjoy!

✿ aquarius in the 1st house (composite): people may be surprised to you see two together as a couple. this can be because you don’t look like you’d be attracted to each other or because your personalities are different. maybe you guys have been friends before so your families/mutual friends didn’t see it coming. and perhaps you & your partner didn’t expect it either and it came as a surprise, something unexpected. a friends to lovers type of relationship. and although people may be surprised at your relationship they may see that the two of you get along really well, probably always laughing and talking to each other.

✿ neptune in the 2nd house: these natives may have recurring moments where they lose money or it just suddenly disappears even though they’re certain they remember exactly where they put it. may also experience money missing from their financial accounts.

✿ lilith in the 2nd house: can indicate someone who is sneaky, stealthy, & sly like a fox, good at stealing things and rarely getting caught. probably have a history of stealing and could have been doing this since they were young.

✿ lilith in the 3rd house: may have road rage and can be someone who doesn’t respect the traffic signs nor traffic lights. the type to make a u-turn when they’re not supposed to, run a red light, or go above the speeding limit. possibly the types that got into fights in their earlier years in school.

✿ lilith in the 4th house: may be embarrassed or ashamed of their family or their mother in particular. they may not like it when people come over their house and especially do not feel comfortable inviting their friends/partner over. their family may be overbearing, lacking social awareness, vulgar, messy, etc. this placement kind of reminds me of elizabeth and her family, the Bennets, from the movie pride and prejudice (2005 version).

✿ there are so many factors to look at considering your appearance in astrology. i have the features of my rising sign and although im not a libra rising, i’m very libra/venus dominant. i’m a libra sun/venus, my sun is at 7° (libra degree), i also have a libra stellium in my natal chart and in multiple persona charts, it just goes on and on. with that being said, i have dimples and so many freckles, beauty marks, and birth marks all over my body and basically on every body part. so don’t just look to your rising sign. check your dominant planet/sign, your venus sign, the degree of your rising/venus sign, your ascendant/venus persona chart, along with any planets in your 1st house because they can all have an influence on your appearance.

✿ when it comes to words, i’ve noticed that gemini tends to double check the definitions of words to make sure they're using it correctly. they like to expand their vocabulary and using that vocabulary in their day to day speech or to appear smart & they talk a lot, quite extroverted. virgo tends to be more pedantic, correcting others for an error in pronunciation/spelling, there’s an emphasis on on grammar and they may flash their impressive vocabulary to show you how stupid you sound, at work/business meetings, or when they’re being sarcastic. they're both ruled by mercury, but i think geminis like to talk more than virgos. virgos appear bashful and quiet/introverted but they have their moments when they are feeling talkative.

✿ sun in the 4th house: these natives may stand out in their family in some way. their skin tone may be lighter than the rest, may be the smartest one, the tallest one, the popular one.

if you have siblings with sun in the 4th you might get compared to them a lot, people/your family highlights the qualities that your sibling has which are the ones you don’t have or maybe they point out how they’re better than you at certain things.

✿ chiron in the 4th house: may have felt like an ugly duckling, an outcast in your family, like you don’t fit in. omg just thought of meg from family guy as i was typing this. could have been treated like cinderella was by her stepfamily.

✿ aquarius moon: may enjoy or find comfort in watching wholesome videos or reading/listening to wholesome stories or news reports. the ones with acts of kindness & generosity, humans treating each other the way they should, the ones that “restore your faith in humanity.”

✿ people with gemini or aries placements tend to be impulsive or quick to react, especially with aries who can be intense & temperamental, or someone who is uranus dominant who can be quite unpredictable and capricious. but if you have pluto in the 1st house you may have great self control. you might be livid or scared on the inside but you have a poker face on the outside. this doesn’t mean you don’t react but you delay the reaction, you wait a little longer to see how things develop and decide whether a reaction is warranted or not.

✿ libras appreciate manners & respectful people so they may not be a fan of cursing and vulgar language. this is contrary to their sister/opposite sign aries who probably curses often and uses indecent words when talking. for libras it makes them cringe, for aries it can be a form of verbal, emotional, and self-expression.

✿ pisces love it when it rains. they find it soothing & dulcet. the change in atmosphere is something they can really feel & it’s comforting. they’re the types to listen to sad music when they’re sad, so the gray skies & dark clouds only makes everything better. taking a walk or being outside on the porch or balcony as it rains can be refreshing & purifying for pisces. laying in bed cuddling or falling asleep to the raindrops feels like bliss.

^ meanwhile sun dominants may hate it when it rains because the atmosphere looks too gloomy & dismal to them. and things could get windy, muddy & messy which makes them want to avoid going outside altogether.

✿ lilith in gemini: these individuals are quick thinkers & are good with words, they know how to be persuasive which makes them good liars, they can create clever lies on the spot. while this can make them appear untrustworthy, for these natives lying could have been a survival mechanism. they may have been subject to tense, controlling, and traumatic environments & people which may have made them feel like they couldn’t be themselves nor speak their truth. doing so may have resulted in more pain and suffering and to avoid or at least reduce that, they turned to lying to protect themselves.

✿ netpune in the 8th house: probably aren’t afraid of death and may even look forward to going to the other side (i’m not talking about suicidal thoughts). or they might wish to die in their sleep when the time has come. they may have a tendency to imagine gruesome things like strange/dark creatures & they might experience vivid nightmares that feel real. would probably be really good at creating morbid art.

✿ scorpio mars/venus: may be mean to their partner, not really in a serious way but in a teasing way. but trust me, underneath the little attitudes & the teasing they are in loveee. they care for their partners so deeply and just want to drown in them.

✿ moon in the 7th house: they don’t like when people are mad at them or when there’s strife in their relationships. it makes them feel emotionally uncomfortable which can lead to the native worrying and obsessively thinking about what went wrong. they’ll try to talk it out, perform acts of kindness, or other things to get the person to forgive them or to resolve any issues. this is another placement that may be too forgiving or tolerant in relationships as well.

✿ cancer: may be a very patriotic individual and so they may have the desire to go to war or fight for their homeland/country in some way like getting into politics for the sake of their country. they may feel a strong connection to their family, their background/history, and the land their family came from. could be the type to rep their flag and culture loud and proud. may want to give back to their country or the people there. tradition is important and they plan on keeping family/cultural traditions alive and/or even creating some of their own.

✿ 6th house synastry: gather around the fireplace my loves, were gunna talk about this synastry because often times it’s either disregarded, underappreciated, or seen as ominous. because of this i’ll mainly be talking about the positives and the favorable possibilities. warning, this is section is lowkey long af.   with 6th house synastry you get a feel for how well a person can fit into your life. because the 6th house has to do with daily life, routines, and schedules, this is such an important aspect in a relationship. the person you have 6th house synastry with could possibly think you make their daily life so much better. and if you are apart of their daily life, then there’s potential for you to be a big part of their life or to be in their life for many years. this doesn’t automatically mean this person will be a co-worker, employee, or employer, but if you can see, interact with, and develop relationships with the people you work with on a pretty daily basis for years, even 10+, then the same can apply to the those who aren’t co-workers, etc. but you still have 6th house synastry with them.

who knows, animals may bring you two together. could meet at the dog park, the vet, at an animal shelter or pet store. you guys may get pets together and it could feel like that pet is apart of your relationship/family. perhaps you two met at the hospital/doctor’s office, or when you happened to visit their place of work.

this person may look forward to seeing or speaking to you everyday. you can become apart of their routine, your presence can feel so natural that it feels like something is missing or different when you’re not around, when they haven’t heard from you, when you didn’t go out for your daily coffee together, when you miss dinner, when you’re traveling or away from home they can really feel it and miss you.

schedules are also important, such as work schedules. with unfavorable planets and aspects they might work a night shift but you may work a morning shift, or somehow your schedules clash. or sleeping schedules which can determine the rest of your day. for example they may be a night owl and you may be an early bird which means you may not get to sleep with each other often, can eat breakfast at different times, while you feel the most productive and energized they may feel the least productive or they’re just trying to unwind. almost functioning on different time zones.

but with favorable planets and aspects and such, this can bring so much harmony, connection, and understanding to the relationship. things flow. those moments when you’re sleeping together, get to just spend hours in bed, cuddling, making/having breaskfast together, knowing exactly what they like to eat, doing your morning/night routines together. a lot of the things are in the details but they’re still significant and can contribute to forming a bond. there’s more time to spend together and wanting to be near each other either doing something together or on your own but still next to each other. there’s a sense of familiarity and comfort.

there’s so much care and attention in 6th house synastry. your partner wants to put you at ease, making sure you’re okay, that you’ve eaten, you’re in a good mood. they’re supportive. they remember the important and little things about you. your likes and dislikes. you know those games where you and your partner answer questions about each other/your relationship? you guys would probably be good at that. when you’re sick they wanna do anything they can to help and alleviate your pain & discomfort. the type to never wanna leave your side until you’re well again. your well-being is a priority for them.

the 6th house is ruled by virgo which is ruled by mercury and the 6th house relates to the conscious mind as well. so with 6th house synastry, you may be someone that’s always on their mind, they find themselves thinking about you throughout the day. wondering what you’re doing, how you’re doing, the next time you’ll hang out, how much they love you, etc.

sex can also be a big part of your relationship. for a lot couples, sex is important and even a deal breaker. this doesn’t necessarily have to do with one’s performance in bed but rather the sexual experience as a whole and how they connect with each other during the act. for a lot of people sex is more than just sex and in the 6th house this can be a daily/frequent thing. you guys might like showering together. and because 6th house is the house of service, depending on the signs/planets in the 6th house there can be a dom/sub type of dynamic, not just in sex though. your partner may be more dominant or have submissive traits in the way they approach life and go about doing things.

since the 6th house considers physical health, exercising may be something you like doing together & perhaps helping each other stay healthy and on top things. there’s self-improvement here but in synastry there can be improvement and progress within the relationship too. creating common goals & plans with each other, and if you’re doing these things together, surely you must see them in your life in the future. 6th house also talks about habits and you might be a good habit, something that is so good for them and their life, possibly even addicting or healing. with taurus in the 6th you can make them feel grounded and you bring stability to their life. with leo in the 6th you can bring fun, a burst of energy or happiness to their everyday life.

if they’re headed out to the store, food shopping, running errands or whatever, they might want you to come with them and you guys can have fun doing simple things like that. the type of partner that might be sitting with you or watching you while you put your makeup on/get dressed, helping you choose an outfit. don’t forget, acts of service is considered a love language for a reason! and relationships don't only consist of romance, going on dates all the time, staring in each other's eyes saying i love you every 4 seconds (hey scorpio 😘😂), but there's a more realistic & practical side as well.

mars in the 6th can bring passion, sex, desire, and determination. your partner can be a source of motivation. and i get that mars is a malefic planet, but every planet/sign can come with pros and cons whether it be benefic or malefic, and there are also favorable/unfavorable aspects, retrograde planets, etc.

venus in the 6th can bring affection, beauty, attention, love/romance, and pleasure. they may also help you with your self-love. acts of service may be a primary love language but remember signs matters to. with taurus venus it may be acts of service + physical touch.

or with gemini venus it may be acts of service + words of affirmation.

moon in the 6th here can bring an emotional connection, considering their feelings and what’s meaningful to your partner, someone who relieves your stress. may help you cope with your emotions in better ways.

plus, the 6th house won’t be the only house with planets in it. so having a synastry chart with 6th house energy coupled with that 8th house synastry ya’ll love, or even 5th house or 7th house energy may be really nice to have.

i see 6th house synastry described as unromantic and while i agree that the themes of the 6th house aren’t related to love, i still see it as a house with themes that can establish a very good foundation for a relationship and it can help develop a bond, and greatly contribute to intimacy and a close connection.

if you read the whole 6th house synastry section here’s an extra heart for you ♥︎, because you really read all that lol. i appreciate you! but hopefully this was helpful, encouraging, and i hope this brought a sweet & supportive perspective to this synastry.

if you read this until the end i hope you enjoyed it & thank you so much for reading. ♥︎♥︎♥︎, those hearts are for you.

[faithisyours]

Just a Dream

Azriel x Fem!reader

Summary: after a long day you come home to the house of wind to find Azriel having a nightmare.

Warnings: fluff, comfort, talk of nightmares, mentions of family and friend death, not too detailed, though, not proof read

Word count: 2.1k

a/n: Hello, God? It’s me again. I’m here on both knees to offer you some bbg Azriel content. This man is tormented, just the way I like them. First Azriel fic, and first ACOTAR fic in general, so please don’t kill me if I get any of the lore wrong (I read these books a while ago and barely remember the plot😅). This came to me in a dream. I’m just kidding. I’m gonna quit my yapping and go now. Minors please go away. Enjoy :)

It had been a long day. Your mission had taken longer than you had expected. Rhys, your High Lord, had sent you to do a routine check on the southern border, but of course, since it was your turn to do this check, a fight had broken out, one that you had to break up, and smooth over, and make sure wouldn’t happen again, and file a report for. By the time you were done, it was already dark out.

You double checked you had completed everything you needed to do, as well as make sure you had filled out that report correctly. Gods forbid you forgot to fill in one pesky section. Rhys would be on your ass about it for weeks. Finally, when you had double checked everything and grown too tired to care if you had forgotten something, you winnowed back to the house of wind, your home.

It was quiet, not even the noise of the house settling could be heard. You tip-toed your way to the kitchen for a little something to eat, your long and busy day allowing no time for dinner. You made yourself a plate, stacking crackers, cheese, meats, and fruits atop one another. The house provided a glass of cold water for you, and you took it, thanking the house silently.

You made your way up to your room. You didn’t want to stay in the kitchen for fear you would make too much noise. So you padded up the steps and down the hallway, but before you could make it to your room, you heard muffled noises coming from inside the Shadowsinger’s chambers. At first you thought it was the noises of a well spent night, but as you grew closer, something you had no choice in doing since to get to your room you had to pass Azriel’s door, the muffled noises were that of distress.

“No, no please! Don’t!” you heard the Shadowsinger call out. He must be having a nightmare, you thought. You did not know what possessed you to open his door and walk right in, but you did. You saw the Illarian sprawled out on his massive bed, blankets tangled around his legs and damp from sweat. His bare chest heaved and glistened with a sheen of cold perspiration.

You put your plate of food and glass of water down on the dresser, then slowly closed the door behind you. You did not want anyone to find you in here, but you also did not want Azriel's nightmare to wake the whole house. You were all aware he had them, everyone in this house had them, and occasionally one would be bad enough to wake the whole floor. The fact that everyone had them made the embarrassment more manageable, but it was embarrassing nonetheless. And you did not want Azriel to be embarrassed.

You took a moment to consider how best to wake him. He was thrashing slightly, his movements becoming more rapid, and he was crying out louder now. You needed to pull him from this dream, and soon. You chose to call his name quietly, in hopes that would pull him out of his torment, but your efforts were futile. You decided you were going to have to touch him.

You made your way to the side of his bed and sat. You turned to face him, so that your right leg was on the bed, bent at the knee, body facing the headboard. You gently took his hand in yours, then slowly began tracing circles on the top of it. This seemed to stir him just a little, but not enough. He was still squirming, eyelids twitching, still calling out in distress.

“Please, don’t! Take me instead. I deserve…” he trailed off. You began calling his name, starting quiet but getting louder. You were sliding your free hand up and down his arm soothingly, the other held tight in Azriel’s scarred hand. But your efforts were still not working.

You shifted your body fully onto the bed now, kneeling next to him, making sure you weren’t pinning his wings. “Azriel, it’s just a dream. Wake up. You’re safe,” you cooed. With your free hand, you cupped his cheek, trying to stop his shaking. “Az, wake up! Please!” Your pleading was getting louder, and you were scared you were going to be the one to wake the whole floor. “It’s just a dream. You are safe. It’s just a dream.”

In an instant Azriel sat up and frantically grabbed onto you. He was disoriented, upset, and panicky, but your words calmed him. “Azriel, you were dreaming. You’re alright. It was just a dream,” you told him. You smoothed away the hair that was stuck to his forehead with sweat. Cupping his cheek, you forced his eyes to meet yours. You searched those hazel depths, trying to gauge his understanding of the situation. “It was just a dream, Az,” you repeated, and did not break eye contact until he nodded that he understood. When he started to calm down you removed your hand from his cheek, dropping it down to the hand clasped in your other one. “Just a dream,” he murmured, nodding slightly.

You suddenly became very aware that you were in a half-dressed Illarian male’s bed. Azriel was one of your dearest friends, but that didn’t make the situation any less awkward. It’s not like you’ve never been in his room, or seen him without a shirt, it was just never both at the same time. Trying not to dwell on it, you asked, “Do you want to talk about it,” for which he promptly shook his head. “Would you like some food?” you offered, remembering the plate of food that still sat on his dresser. He looked up at you questioningly, so you slid off the bed, walked over and grabbed the plate of food, then walked back, presenting it to him with a half-grin on your face.

“Why?” he simply asked, growing increasingly confused.

“I just got back from my mission and didn’t get the chance to eat dinner, so I was gonna take this to my room so that I wouldn't wake anyone up but I heard you, so…” you trailed off. He nodded in understanding.

“So this is your dinner?” he asked, trying not to dwell on the last part of your sentence, the fact that he was talking and you heard him. It was your turn to nod.

“Ya, but I think my eyes were bigger than my stomach. You can have some,” you reassured, grabbing a grape and popping it into your mouth. You lowered the plate onto the bed next to him, then sat. Az took a cube of cheese and a cracker, then slid them into his mouth in one fell swoop. He chewed slowly, then swallowed. He was sitting up now, his sheets still tangled in his legs, but he seemed to be calming down a great deal.

“There was a fight that broke out at the border today,” you offered, trying to distract him further from what remained of his dream. “Right when I was almost done, too! I had to stay an extra two hours to smooth everything over. Ridiculous!” you exclaimed. Az breathed out a huff of amusement, a small smile making its way onto his lips. “Oh, you think it's funny?” you teased with an incredulous tone. His smile was starting to part his lips, and you couldn’t resist yourself, you smiled back.

“Thank you,” he said, picking up a strawberry and raising it to you in thanks.

“No problem,” you replied. You were about to stand up and leave, but he stopped you with a hand over yours.

“What did… what was I saying?” he asked you shyly.

“Oh um…” you were startled by his question slightly. You didn’t want to bring up a sore subject, but he was the one asking, so you guessed it was alright. “Ya know just the usual “no, please don’t”’s and the “take me instead”’s. Very chivalrous of you, might I add.” You wanted to lighten the mood a bit, but it didn’t seem to be working. There was a line between the Shadowsinger’s eyebrows, and his eyes were downcast. “You also said you deserved to go instead, but that part was a little unclear.” You didn’t mean to pry, but you were curious. And if Azriel thought he deserved to die instead of someone else because he deserved it, well you were going to have to fix that opinion real quick.

Az simply nodded. It did not seem like he wanted to elaborate on that last part, so you offered up one of your most common nightmares in hopes it would comfort him. “I often dream about my family being killed in front of me. That I am restrained or incapacitated in some way that prevents me from helping. And I always seem to offer myself in exchange for their lives. It never works, though.” His eyes were on you now, sorrow-filled hazel that glittered in the moonlight streaming through the windows. His fingers had taken up tracing lines on the hand of yours that was clasped in his.

“That's not your fault,” he whispered. You both sat there for a long minute. “I was…” he started, but seemed to think better of it. You placed your free hand over his, encouraging him to continue. He took a deep breath. “In my dream, Cassian was in trouble. He’s my brother, my closest friend, I couldn’t just do nothing. I offered myself as an alternative. Cass is so good, so much better than me. I guess I just thought… he deserves to live,” he paused, “more than I do.” he finished, and it took everything in you not to break down right in front of him.

“Azriel,” your tone was firm. “You are good. So good. You are amazing, and so so loved. And I know it was just a dream… but our thoughts influence them, and they influence us. Please believe me when I say you do not deserve to die in the place of someone else because it would be better, or because you are not good enough. You are.” Tears were threatening to pool in your eyes. Azriel was one of your closest friends, and your life would be incomplete without him in it. You lifted your hand to caress his cheek, pouring comfort and reassurance through your touch.

He nodded. “Thank you,” he said again. “For waking me up, and for your words. And for the food,” he added after a small pause. You gave him a small smile, and he returned it. You got up to leave, wanting to take a hot bath and change, but he stopped you. “Can you…can you stay, maybe?” he asked. You grinned, how could you not? You loved his awkwardness.

“Yes. But under conditions.” He waited for you to continue. “I stink, so I’m going to take a bath. And then I’ll come back in, okay? Give me thirty minutes.” he nodded once again.

You made your way to your room, plate of food and glass of water in hand. You quickly bathed, and ate, then changed into your sleeping clothes. You weren't going to lie to yourself, either. You were glad Az asked you to stay in his room. Both of you calmed each other down in a way no one else could. This was not the first time you had slept in each other's beds, either. Your relationship was strictly platonic, but Azriel’s cuddles were unmatched, and you always seemed to sleep better in his presence, the same going for him.

Once you were done bathing and changing, you made your way back to the Shadowsinger’s room. He had changed the sheets of his bed, and was now wearing a shirt. He sat propped against his headboard reading a book. You made sure to close the door behind you, then made your way over to his bed. You pulled the blankets back and crawled in, snuggling right into the side of him. He dog-eared his page in the book (an act that almost made you get back up and leave) and set it on his night stand. He sank down into his bed and wrapped his arms around you. And there you both slept, peacefully, dreaming of absolutely nothing.

[pendarling]

Common Sense Villain Prompts & Dialogue

Thoroughly making sure their identity and name stays hidden

Using a gun in situations when it’s more convenient

Double-checking someone is dead or really is gone with no chance of return

“Untie me!” “Okay, what do you think my response is going to be? Hm?” “I… no?” “Exactly, use your head.”

A villain that doesn’t tell anybody about their plans except people they actually trust

Stealing items and then hiding it somewhere they know it won’t be found

“I’m not listening to someone who touched radioactive material and got powers.”

Not looking into mysteries for “hidden meaning” and doing their job

Minding their own damn business when it doesn’t involve them

Fixing their schedule so nothing overlaps

There is no such thing as a “self destruct button/lever/switch” that exists somewhere anyone could accidentally touch

“What if I gave you an offer, Villain?” “No thank you, I’ve seen what your offers look like before”

Leaving a scene right before things get worse when they know they have lots of time on their hands instead of rushing at the LAST SECOND

Not doing a dare no matter what

Reading the contract before they sign

“What was that noise?” “We should go back.” “But what if someone needs help?” “Fuck them.”

If Villain can’t see well, they would keep spare glasses with them at all times

Using someone else’s car to get somewhere because hell if their license gets revoked

Labelling ingredients and other items correctly and making them distinctive

Not monologuing or springing into a fantastical musical theatric display

^^^“Aren’t you gonna sing about your childhood and hard upbringing?” “Why would I tell you about my private life?”

Immediately snitching to the boss when they catch the traitor

Opting out of an activity they know will get them hurt

Not flaunting about anything to anyone because they know it’ll attract attention

Getting somewhere early

“I wonder who sent out this weird package?” “Don’t touch it and don’t bring it inside.”

When a machine starts leaking they immediately fix it instead of brushing it off

Looking for cameras and microphones in a hotel

Not having a top secret discussion outside in public

~~~

MASTERLIST

[corroded-hellfire]

Pretty Girl - Eddie Munson x Reader

Note: This is for my darling @munson-blurbs 💚 I told her that if she finished the big project she was working on in time, I would write her anything she wanted. Not only did she finish on time, but she did it damn near perfectly. I am so unbelievably proud of you, Bug. I’m always in awe of your intelligence and work ethic. I hope I did justice to what you wanted, and I hope you all enjoy it as well! Also, I hope that I used the academic terms I included correctly, but if I didn’t, we’re just going to ignore that lol

Request/Summary: Eddie × Bookworm!Reader where Reader is stressed because of a massive project she has to do. And she keeps talking about all of this academic stuff that makes Eddie's head spin. So he does what he does best: fucks his smart girl until she's dumb

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral f!receiving, slight daddy kink

Words: 2.4k

Eddie’s just hanging up the phone as you step into your shared apartment after a long day on campus. Letting out a huff, you drop your backpack down on the kitchen table, and books and papers come spilling out.

“Ugh,” you groan, running your hands down your face. Eddie frowns and walks over to the table as you slump down into a chair. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asks as he takes the seat across from you. 

With a sigh, you shake your head. “S’nothing.” Eddie raises an eyebrow and tilts his head. You can practically hear him asking if you really expect him to believe that. “Just school bullshit. You’d think people studying for their doctorate would be a little more serious than some people in my class. But you don’t want to hear me ramble on.”

“Uh, yes, I do,” Eddie says, leaning forward on the table. “You know I think it’s sexy when you talk all academic. My girl’s gonna have her PhD.”

The salacious wiggling of his eyebrows has you cracking a smile. Relenting, you sit up in your seat and begin to tell Eddie about the irritants you’ve been dealing with.

“So, we have to utilize these things called literacy based behavior interventions…”

Eddie rests his chin on his fist as he listens to you. He’s picked up a lot over the years and is able to identify so many more words that you say than he used to. Sometimes though, he still gets a little confused.

“Well, then that brought us to the Social Identity Development Theory…”

Nodding, Eddie is almost positive he knows what that is, but he doesn’t want to interrupt you to double check. 

“But after all this, he admits he doesn’t really understand qualitative vs. quantitative methodology! I have absolutely no idea how this man even became a BCABA.”

I know this one, Eddie thinks to himself. Board Certified Assistant Behavior Analyst.

“Then he kept saying ‘phenomenology’ instead of ‘pedagogy.’”

Now those, Eddie did not know. He can see you getting more riled up though, so he knows it’s time to intervene.

“Baby, baby, hey.” He reaches over and tugs on your hand, nodding for you to come over and sit in his lap. “It’s okay, you just need to relax.”

Reluctantly, you push yourself out of your chair and let Eddie pull you on top of him. The way he smirks up at you lets you know he’s about to get frisky even before his large hands slide up your thighs. Rough, calloused fingers dig into the plush of your denim covered legs. 

“I think my smart girl needs me to take care of her, doesn’t she?” Eddie pouts up at you. When you nod in return, your boyfriend removes one hand from you and brings it back down to deliver a harsh smack to your ass. “Use your words, baby.”

A whimper escapes your throat as you tighten your legs around his hips. “Yes, Eddie. Need you. Make me feel better.”

Tightening his grip on you, Eddie stands up from the chair. A squeal escapes you as you tightly wrap your arms around his neck. A smirk of satisfaction on his lips, he carries you into your shared bedroom. Gently, he lays you down and lets you get comfortable before he’s crawling on top of you. Eddie tugs on the hem of your shirt, and you sit up enough for him to slide it off of you. Then he works down your body, taking off every piece of clothing in his path. Moving back up your body, he goes to press kisses against your neck, but you stop him with a yank on his own shirt.

“Me too?” he asks with a chuckle. 

“Yes.” The adorable pout in your voice has Eddie acquiescing, stripping down so he’s just as naked as you are. 

“May I continue?” After letting your eyes slowly roam up and down his bare body, you give him a nod of approval. 

“You may.”

He chuckles and leans in and presses his lips against the juncture where your neck and shoulder meet. The kisses start off soft and sweet but turn wetter and needier as he moves down to your collar bones. Moving further down your body, he attaches his lips to the underside of your breast. It’s his favorite place to leave hickies on you and from the way his mouth is moving against the sensitive skin, you’re sure that’s what he’s doing now. 

As the first moans tumble out of your mouth, Eddie switches breasts to give the other one the same attention. Your hands tangle in the curls that are splayed out over your naked chest, your fingers coming up to scratch at Eddie’s scalp as he continues his journey down your body. His kisses trail down your stomach, to your belly button, then further and further down until he stops just shy of where you most want his mouth. 

“So needy,” Eddie says with a chuckle as your hips begin to move, looking for some sort of friction. You let out a whine and give a tug to Eddie’s hair. A guttural groan sounds deep in his throat. “Playing dirty, huh?”

“Need you so bad, Eddie,” you say through a whimper. The way you look down at him with wide, imploring eyes has his cock twitching between his body and the mattress. 

“Relax, my beautiful little genius. I’m gonna help you feel better.”

You’re not given a chance to respond as Eddie moves down and wraps his lips around your clit. One of your hands comes out of Eddie’s hair to grip the sheet you’re lying on.

“Fuck,” you moan. 

Eddie’s tongue expertly works over your clit, moving at the speed and pressure that he knows drives you wild. Using his hands to spread your legs even wider for him, he nudges his nose against your sensitive nub as he licks at your entrance.

“Jesus, baby, I’ll never get used to how fucking good you taste.” It’s not unusual for Eddie to take his time when he’s going down on you. He likes to ravish you, gathering every last drop from you that he can. The only reason he pulls away from your sopping pussy is to praise you on how sweet you taste or how wet you are for him. 

Now, Eddie’s taking even more care than normal to make sure you’re feeling good. Lazy strokes of his tongue over your clit pairs with him slipping two fingers into you. The moment he curves them up inside of you, he’s hitting that delicious spot that has you seeing stars. There are few things Eddie knows better than your body—it’s the only thing he’s ever actually enjoyed studying. He knows it as well as he knows his own body and is able to bring you to the brink on his terms and in his time. 

“M’close, Eddie.”

He knows without you telling him, though. You both know that. The way your walls clamp down around his fingers, the way your breaths hitch as you lose yourself in the feeling. With one last rub of his fingers against your inner wall, the wave of pleasure crashes over you and has you whining out your boyfriend’s name over and over again. 

“That’s a good girl,” Eddie coos as he works you through your bliss. As your moans subside, he slips his fingers out of your pussy and pops them into his mouth. “Mm, fuck, baby.”

“Eddie,” you whine, trying to catch your breath.

“What, my princess?” He crawls up your body and presses gentle, barely-there kisses along the column of your throat. “You already cock drunk? I haven’t even been inside you yet, sweetheart.”

“Y’make me feel so good.” Your hands reach up, grabbing at any expanse of Eddie’s pale skin that you can.

“I’m here, baby,” he assures you, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek.

“Wanna feel you.”

“Aw, does my pretty girl want my PhD?” Eddie teases with a smirk. “My pretty huge dick?” Before you have time to respond, he leans down and slots his mouth over yours, immediately licking into your mouth. Using his other hand, Eddie lines himself up with your entrance and slowly pushes inside.

Eddie’s mouth swallows your moans as you feel him stretch you out deliciously. Above you, your boyfriend meets your sounds of pleasure with his own at the feeling of sliding into the wet warmth of your pussy.

“Shit,” Eddie mumbles against your mouth. “So fucking tight. This is all you needed, right baby? Just needed your daddy taking care of you.”

Words seem too hard as Eddie pulls his hips back before thrusting back into you again and again. You’re dissolved to whining and whimpering in response to his question, which has him smirking down at you. 

“Mm, look at that,” Eddie muses as he grips your hip. “I may not be a genius like you, baby, but this I’m pretty good at. Fuck my smart girl ‘til she’s dumb.” Not only does Eddie know what to do to your body, but he knows just the words to say to get you hurtling towards another orgasm. 

Every generous inch of Eddie moves inside of you, the ridge between the head and shaft dragging against all the spots that have you arching your back. A strong hand slides up from your hip, making sure to caress every inch of skin it comes across as it makes its way up to your mouth. 

“Open up.”

Immediately, you do as you’re told, and Eddie slips two fingers into your mouth. Not needing to be told what to do with them, you begin to run your tongue around his fingers, swirling it around the tip as you soak the digits.

“God damn it,” Eddie says with a huff of laughter. “You’re gonna make me cum before I want to. Gotta get my girl off again, first.”

A small smirk on your face, you release his fingers with a pop. He reaches down and rubs his fingers over your clit, eliciting a breathy moan from your lips.  

“That feel good, baby?” Eddie goads.

“Y-Yes,” you stutter, your eyes closing in ecstasy. 

“Want you to cum for me again, my good girl. Think you can do that?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “So close.”

“Cum on my cock, baby. Want you to make such a mess of me. Cream my cock.”

“Fuck,” you groan, fingers digging into Eddie’s back as his thrusts become sloppier, a tell-tale sign he’s close as well. “Want you to cum too, Eddie.”

“Oh, don’t worry, princess,” he says with a laugh. “‘Bout to cum so hard in your pretty little pussy. Gonna fill you up so, so good. You’ll feel me dripping out of you for days.”

“Shit,” you hiss, and Eddie picks up the pace on your clit. “Fuck—E-Eddie, I’m gonna cum. Fuck, I’m coming.”

The clenching of your walls around his cock has Eddie losing his composure, groans and mutterings of your name falling from his tongue. 

“Shit, baby—m-me too.”

Your bodies move together as the two of you ride out your highs with each other. Eddie’s head drops down and buries into your neck as his body stills on top of yours. Reluctant to pull out of you, Eddie busies himself by pressing sweet kisses against your skin.

“How was that, my love?” Eddie whispers against your ear.

“Was perfect,” you tell him, a lazy smile on your face. “Don’t want you to move.”

Eddie chuckles. “Me neither. But I was thinking we could get all comfy and I’ll hold you as close as you want me to.”

“Can’t get much closer than we are now,” you point out, making Eddie laugh again. 

“Good point. I’m gonna get us cleaned up though, okay?”

Eddie forces himself to get out of the bed and brings back a warm washcloth. Gently, Eddie cleans you up before working on himself. He leaves the room to throw the washcloth in the hamper, but you figure he gets sidetracked because he takes longer than expected. When you see him balancing a bowl of popcorn and two bottles of water as he walks back into the room, you see why. He sets the snack down on the bed and rolls one of the water bottles your way.

“I was thinking,” he says, turning his back to you and walking over to the television resting on your dresser. “We should watch a movie.” It seems like he already had one in mind as he plucks one from your small pile of VHS tapes. Eddie pops the tape into the VCR and strolls back over to the bed. He holds the popcorn bowl so he doesn’t knock it over while he gets situated. As soon as he lifts his arm, you’re cuddling up into his side. Sweat sticks to both of you even after you’ve cleaned up, but you tuck yourself into Eddie’s side regardless. He places the bowl of popcorn on his thigh closest to you as you rest your head on his shoulder. The familiar sweet scent of your strawberry shampoo brings a smile to his face and a feeling of warmth and comfort settles over him. 

“Oh, you put Tommy Boy on!” Your face lights up in glee as you point to the television, as if he didn’t know that you were referring to the movie on the screen. 

“I know how much you love it,” he says, a smile on his face at how happy it made you. 

Cuddling up to his side, Eddie grabs a few pieces of popcorn and holds them up to your mouth. Giggling, you eat them out of his hand like a horse being fed hay. The two of you lazily feed pieces to one another as you watch the movie. When the bowl is empty, you nuzzle your face into Eddie’s neck. The smell of sweat, weed, and his minty shampoo floods your senses and has you more relaxed than you’ve felt in days. Only a few minutes later, Eddie can feel your breath against his neck as it comes out in long puffs. A smile grows on his face at the realization that you’ve fallen asleep.

Carefully, Eddie moves the empty bowl of popcorn to the bedside table and slowly maneuvers himself so he's laying down, keeping you held in his arms. He pulls your body as close as he can, keeping his promise of holding you as closely as you’d like.

“Goodnight, pretty girl. I love you.”

[comphy-and-cozy]

love it if we made it - mat barzal

Pairing: Mat Barzal x OC (f)

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

Word Count: 9.2K

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

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

July 2013 - Vancouver, British Columbia

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mat Barzal. 

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

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

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

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

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

“You promise?”

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

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

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

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

“It’s cold.”

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

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

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

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

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

June 2018 – Vancouver, British Columbia

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

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

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

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

[Mat:] what’s the play tn

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

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

[Mat:] want some company?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t be a dick.”

“M’not. You’re so pretty it hurts.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she can’t have that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

July 2019 - Vancouver, British Columbia  

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

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

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

Everyone except two people.

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

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

“What? A wedding?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

December 2022 – New York, New York

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

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

“—it’s been waiting for you!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t ramble. Got it.”

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

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

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

“Any last expert advice for me?”

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A girl?”

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

“Woof woof, Barzy!”

“Get it, Matty B!”

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off, Dobber.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Charming, Barz.”

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

“What are you talking about?”

“You two. You seem… different.”

Aurora’s eyebrows raise. “Different how?”

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

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

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

“I do not make googly eyes at him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Carry me!”

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

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

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

But he doesn’t. 

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

“‘Ror,” he whispers. “We can’t.”

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

“Not like this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay.”

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

“Please?”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

Aurora snorts at the texts from her pseudo-sister. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

January 2023 — Vancouver, British Columbia 

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

I got the job. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

“You–are you—what?”

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

“Mat, are you asking me out?”

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugs. “Jus’ did, didn’t I?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—thought it wasn’t worth it?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you want it to look like.”

“What do you want it to look like?”

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

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

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

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

“I’m going to hang up.”

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

“Mat!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ror?”

“I–I need some space, okay?”

“I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up!”

February 2023 — New York, New York

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlights as college roommates and maybe some identity shenanigans thrown in would be so fun! Maybe dannys doing a little vigilante work on the side as well to up the secret identity mayhem

Danny would like to say his college career is going well. Gotham isn’t where he was expecting to pursue higher education, but the engineering scholarship he got through the Wayne Educational Foundation was just too good to turn down. It even covered the cost of an apartment! Although, the apartment is shared with another student who got a Wayne scholarship. 

Even with that, Danny lucked out and got a great roommate. Duke Thomas is chill, kind, respects Danny’s space and doesn’t throw wild parties or invite random people in at all hours of the day. He even joins Danny twice a week for study sessions!

Really, it would be the perfect college experience except for one thing: the ghosts.

Danny thought they’d stay in Amity Park. They had no reason to stray from the city where the portal was, and his parents are more than enough to keep most ghosts away. It took his friends, Jazz, and even Vlad to convince Danny that he wasn’t abandoning Amity Park and that the city wouldn’t fall while he took a few years to focus on himself. 

He worried right up until he got to GCU and walked the campus for the first time. Then he decided to enjoy the four years he had on the scholarship to get his degree and live his own life like a normal person.

To say he’s pissed about the ghosts is an understatement. 

The one thing he was looking forward to most is not being Phantom. Gotham is home to the Bats and they’re more than capable of handling everything in the city. It means there’s no need for him here and he can focus on school and enjoy going on invisible flights without worrying about being hunted down or having to fight a ghost. 

“Are you fucking kidding me,” he mutters under his breath as he feels the familiar chill race up his throat, A cold mist wafts out of his mouth, curling around his words, and Danny quickly ducks his head and hides it from sight. 

“Did you say something?” Duke asks, looking up from where he leans against the kitchen counter, squinting at a recipe on his phone. 

“Nah,” Danny lies. “Just stressing.” He gestures to the papers he has spread out on the dining table, then stands up. “I’m gonna take a walk. Maybe that’ll get my brain to work correctly tonight.”

“Got your phone on you?”

Danny reflexively drops a hand to his pocket, checking that his phone is where it’s supposed to be. It’s what Duke asks every single time Danny mentions going out, worried about Danny being unprepared for Gotham. It’s nice of him, though Danny does wish he can say that he’s survived a lot worse than a few muggers. 

“Got it.”

“Alright. I’ll try to work on dinner while you’re out.”

Danny nods and offers Duke a small wave before pulling his shoes on at the door. He grabs his keys and heads out, double checking that the door is locked behind him. 

Then he glances around the hallway, checking that the coast is clear, and pulls up the chill of awareness in his chest. Slowly, he breathes out, watching the blue mist waft out and lead towards the stairwell. 

“Wonder who it is this time,” he mutters to himself, going into the cold, concrete stairwell. It always feels a little off in there, as if he’s been removed from the rest of the world when the door closes behind him. His footsteps echo oddly in the space, so Danny chooses to fly instead, keeping his feet off the floor. 

A few flights down is when he sees her: pale and translucent, a faint blue glow around her. She’s a familiar face. Emilia is one of the first of Gotham’s ghosts he’s met, leading to the rather unpleasant realization that ghosts don’t only come from the Infinite Realms. There’s a strange sort of magic in the very foundations of Gotham that makes it the way it is, creating ghosts that are different enough from what he’s used to that it leaves him off balance. 

Gotham keeps her dead. Few get to pass on peacefully, and most have to wait until they grow weak and wither away, a second death, before they can be released from the living realm. The ghosts of Gotham are pale and weak, for the most part, and try to cling to him so grow stronger from his ectoplasm. 

Most want him to help them pass on, or give them a way into the Infinite Realms. Some want him to bring justice to their killers. Others want to kill him and take his ectoplasm for their own so they can continue their reign of terror in Gotham, unable to be stopped even in death. 

Emilia gives him warnings. It’s not always her, but she tends to be the one to draw him out of his apartment, pulling him into a vigilante lifestyle because he can’t bring himself to refuse anyone who asks for his help, and the dead in Gotham have no one else to ask.

“Danny,” she greets. “Nueve is out again. He’s going after the ghosts near Chantilly Street.”

“The sun isn’t even down yet,” Danny grumbles. Nueve, an old gang enforcer who died a few decades ago, cannibalizes other ghosts. It doesn’t destroy the other ghosts, not really, but it makes them feel pain when they shouldn’t be able to feel much at all. Taking their limited reserves of ectoplasm makes him momentarily stronger, and he uses that stolen strength to try to harm the living.

He’s been successful a few times. Danny makes sure to rip him apart as much as possible these days; he won’t be here forever, but he’s hoping that within his four years at GCU, he’ll be able to permanently stop Nueve.

Times like these, he misses having a Fenton Thermos with him. Though he’s not entirely sure it would work on Gotham’s ghosts with how different they are. 

Emilia follows him down the stairwell to the ground floor. Once there, Danny shoves his hand into the floor, taking out the backpack he’s hidden in it. He’s done this change of clothes so often he can do it in just a minute now, hiding his face and pulling on gloves beneath a large hoodie with old ectoplasm stains along the sleeves and hem. A gas mask is pulled on as well, covering the bottom half of his face, a necessary addition to his Ghost Work Outfit™ after he almost got caught in some Fear Gas during Scarecrow’s last attack. 

“Alright,” he says, “Lead the way.”

Emilia takes off through the wall and Danny hurries to follow, going invisible as he hits the streets. 

It’s still early evening, the sun not yet fully set. Plenty of people walk along the sidewalks and cars pass by endlessly, honking at each other as they try to go twenty above the speed limit. Danny does his best to avoid running into everyone, deftly dodging the reaching hands of a few ghosts who spot him as he sprints by. 

They only go a few blocks away from his apartment building, turning into a dead end alley where a group of teens (living, for once) are stuck with their backs to the wall, clinging to each other as they warily watch the man in front of them carelessly twirl a gun around his finger. 

The man makes a strange clicking noise in the back of his throat, and it takes Danny a moment to realize that he’s trying to talk. 

Still invisible, Danny sneaks around to stand in front of the teens, ready to bodily protect them. The man looks alive, and Danny see any ghosts around save for Emilia, standing at the mouth of the alley. There’s something strange about him; his movements seem just a little off, not quite as fluid as they should be. It’s not the movement of someone on drugs. It’s something that screams uncanny valley.

The gun’s handle drops solidly into the man’s palm. He makes another few clicks, then raising the gun to point at the teens.

“Bad idea, pal,” Danny says dropping his invisibility. The teens behind him startle, gasping and trying to press themselves further into the wall. 

The man’s eyes flash weakly and the pieces click into place in Danny’s mind. Nueve must have gotten strong enough to possess someone. That is… alarming, to say the least.

He rips the gun out of the man’s hand and tosses it aside. Then he pushes away the man’s arm when Nueve makes a clumsy attempt to punch him. With his chest left wide open and undefended, Danny takes the chance to shove his hand into the man’s chest, feeling for the familiar chill of a ghost. 

And then he wraps his fingers tight around it and pulls out Nueve, leaving the man to collapse. 

The teens behind him scream and Danny winces. 

Pulling out a faintly glowing human figure from someone’s physical body does not look good. It’s the best way to end a possession, but it does look alarmingly like he’s just ripped someone’s soul out of their body.

Keeping hold of Nueve’s ghost, Danny steps to the side. “You guys should go now. Take care.”

The teens don’t need any more prompting. They take off in a run, tripping over each other in their haste to get away.

Danny spares a glance to the man unconscious on the ground, but there’s nothing he can do with an angry ghost in his hands, so he has no choice but to leave him there as he flies up to a rooftop farther down the street. 

“How many times do we need to do this, Nueve?” he asks tiredly, shaking the ghost.

“These streets should be mine!” Nueve howls, trying to break free of Danny’s grasp. But he’s quickly growing weak, his energy fading, and Danny’s holding back his own ectoplasm as tightly as he can. “They may have killed me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still take what I’m owed!”

“Dude, you’re dead. There’s nothing here for you. Move on.”

“You don’t get to speak on this, outsider. You think a freak like you has an say over us? You can’t stop us. You don’t even know what’s coming.”

Danny squints at him. “What, are you planning a heist or something? With your gang of dead people too weak to lift a piece of paper?”

“We’re not all dead. We’ve got living folk helping us and we’ll be taking you out first when we hit the streets.”

“Good luck with that,” Danny says flatly, “Begone with you.” 

Without giving Nueve a chance to say another word, he rips Nueve’s head off his body. His ghost wavers, then dissipates like smoke, fading away. 

Another side effect of whatever it is Gotham does to her dead: their ghost forms are remarkably fragile and it takes only a bit of strength to tear them to shreds, giving him some peace before they reform again. It won’t stop Nueve from striking out again, gathering enough strength until he’s able to possess some other unfortunate soul, but Danny’s bought himself some time to figure out what the hell was he talking about?

There are living folk involved with whatever he’s planning. It’s probably another gang, maybe someone with magic who is able to see ghosts? Which is not great. Danny doesn’t know much about magic; even when facing ghosts who used magic or magical artifacts, his go to method of dealing with them is to start throwing hands like there’s no tomorrow.

Well.

It’s a problem for later.

For now, Danny needs to get back to his apartment and work on his calculus homework. Hopefully he can finish it before he gets frustrated enough that he gives up and lies face down on the floor until Duke manhandles him onto the couch, where he’s less of a tripping hazard.

He’s just about to get back to street level when his Fenton Luck strikes again and he hears someone land on the roof, just a few feet behind him.

“Hey there, stranger,” the Signal says. “You know, we run into each other so often it feels rude not to introduce ourselves. Why don’t you go first?”

Danny turns to face the daylight vigilante, standing with his arms crossed as if that would make him look any more approachable. He’s been popping up wherever Danny’s out dealing with ghosts, which is very not great for Danny’s plans to have a peaceful, normal college life. 

Biting his tongue, Danny gives the Signal a quick two fingered salute, then goes intangible and drops down through the building. His invisibility sweeps over him and then he’s running through the streets, hoping it’s enough to keep the Signal from following him to his apartment.

He skids to a stop in the stairwell, dropping his intangibility just in time to crash into the wall. Panting, Danny waits for a tense minute to see if he’s been followed. 

When the door to the stairwell remains closed, he lets out a slow breath, then pulls off all the pieces of his Ghost Work Outfit, shoving it back into his bag. He takes a moment to fix his hair, messy from the hood, then shoves the bag back into the floor, safely hidden from curious eyes. 

Then he very casually walks up the stairs to the fifth floor and walks down the hallway to his apartment. His keys clang together when he opens the door, and Duke usually hears it when it does, but just in case, Danny calls out, “I’m back!”

He’s learned to announce himself after a few late night walks almost ended with him tackled to the floor when Duke thought someone was breaking in.

Duke doesn’t respond as he toes off his shoes. The stillness in the apartment feels off, as if the world is holding its breath. Cautiously, Danny walks in, trying to find his roommate.

He’s not in the kitchen. The living room is empty. Duke’s bedroom door is open and he’s not in there either. 

Something cold lodges itself in his chest. 

“Duke?” he tries again, looking over their apartment again for any sign of struggle, or something terrible happening, or even a mess that Duke needed more supplies to clean up. 

There’s nothing. The apartment is as it’s always been, just with an empty space where Duke should be.

Worried, Danny stands in the middle of the hallway, trying to figure out what he should do next. It’s because he’s standing so still, surrounded by silence, that he hears it: a light thud outside the window. 

Danny turns and he can swear he sees something large moving outside the window, disappearing from sight just as Danny takes a step into Duke’s room to check on it. He rushes to the window and pushes it open, looking down at the street, then side to side, and finally up to the last three floors of the building.

Nothing’s there.

Slowly, Danny pulls his head back inside, closing and locking the window. “Must be my imagination,” he says, trying to convince himself it’s not a big deal. 

He leaves Duke’s room and begins pacing down the hall, anxiety building steadily in him. 

His phones in his hand before he can think his actions through, Duke’s contact pulled up on the screen. He should call. He should make sure Duke is okay, but Danny hesitates. Is this something to be freaked out over? Would Duke thing he’s clingy and nervous and a bothersome roommate? He doesn’t want to risk Duke asking for a new roommate next year when the lease renews.

But he’s worried. It’s Gotham and Danny just dealt with a violent, murderous ghost threatening him. Duke can deal with a stressed out, worried Danny if it means he’s alive.

He hits the call button before he can talk himself out of it. It rings on and on and on until Danny starts to panic about having to find Duke’s ghost to avenge his murder. 

The front door is thrown open so suddenly and so loudly, Danny jumps and his phone clatters to the floor. 

“Danny! Hey!” Duke says with a bright smile, trying to catch his breath. He’s still holding onto the doorknob, slightly hunched over as he pants for breath. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m totally fine.”

“Where were you?”

Duke straightens up and closes the door, kicking off his shoes. “Oh, just… out. Shopping. For dinner.”

Danny looks over his empty hands doubtfully. “No luck finding what you needed?”

“Nope!”

“What did you need? Maybe I can go to a different store and get it for you.”

“You don’t need to!” Duke says. “I just needed… tomatoes?”

Danny blinks at him. “We have tomatoes. Did you not know we had tomatoes in the fridge?”

“Oh, do we? Good to know.”

There’s something very weird about this conversation, but Danny doesn’t pry. Duke is weird sometimes, but it’s fine because he kindly ignores some of Danny’s oddities that come from being a halfa and a semi-retired hero. 

“Do you… maybe wanna sit down? Catch your breath? I can make dinner tonight if you want.”

Duke waves a hand in the air. “No, no, it’s fine. I got this. Anyways, how was your walk?”

He definitely shouldn’t talk about the cannibal ghost and his threats to take out Danny with his gang. “It was nice. Very quiet. You know, for Gotham.” He punctuates this with an awkward thumbs up and immediately regrets it, but it’s already done so he commits to it.

“Cool! Great. Just wondering, did you see anything weird?”

“Depends on what you’re asking about?”

“Just some guy wearing black with a hood covering his face. He’s been active in this neighborhood and I saw some people talk about him online. Apparently he just appears out of thin air.”

Danny tries not to wince. That’s him, alright. Gotham’s newest neighborhood menace. “I don’t think so, but there’s a lot of people in Gotham that were all black and walk around with their hood up.”

“True,” Duke concedes. “Well, just be careful when you go out, alright?”

“I always am.” He gives Duke the same two fingered salute he gave the Signal. Duke stares at him for a moment, eyes dark and almost dangerous, then he smiles and walks into the kitchen. 

“Wanna make dinner with me? I think we can figure out this recipe together. Unless you need to do your homework.”

“It can wait!” Danny hurries to join Duke, grateful for an excuse to push off calculus a little longer. He understands what he’s doing in the class, there’s just… so much work. He doesn’t even want to think about the tests. The tests make everyone cry.

“Alright, let’s get to it, then!”

“You’re in charge, chef,” Danny says, laughingly, and bumps against Duke’s side. He expects a light shove in return, something Sam and Tucker always did, but Duke goes tense instead, letting out a sharp breath that Danny is all too familiar with. “Wait, why are you hurt? What happened?!”

He goes to lift up Duke’s shirt to inspect his shirt, see the damage for himself, but Duke smoothly moves out of the way, grabbing Danny’s wrists and stopping him in his tracks. “I’m fine, Danny. I just got hit. Lightly. Minor bruising, really.”

Danny looks at him doubtfully, then wrenches a wrist free to lift up his shirt before he can move again.

Minor bruising is not how Danny would describe the blues and purples that decorate Duke’s entire side. He can see the outline of Duke’s ribs through the bruising. “How is this being lightly bruised? What hit you?”

“A car?”

“A car?!”

Duke winces, then pulls his shirt down. “I’m fine, Danny, really. It was just from a car that didn’t want to stop at a red light. I stopped another person from being hit, but the car got me pretty solidly. You know how bad Gotham drivers are.”

“Sit down!” Danny says, pulling Duke out of the kitchen. “I don’t understand how you’re still standing. I’ll get some ice, and I’ll handle dinner. You just stay there and stop pushing yourself for no reason.”

“Playing nurse for me now?”

“If I have to.”

“Would you wear a nurse costume for me, too?” Duke jokes.

Danny looks him dead in the eye and says, “If I have to. Would that make you follow my instructions? A tight little nurse dress?”

Duke sputters, cheeks darkening, and looks away. Danny grins, victorious, and darts back to the kitchen to grab an ice pack from the fridge. 

“Maybe I’ll wear one for you anyways, once you’re all healed up. Only if you’re good, though.”

“Danny, you’re killing me here.”

“Better me than a car.”

Duke laughs and takes the ice pack, pressing it against his side carefully. “Oh, for sure. Thanks, Danny.”

“Hey, what are roommates for?” Danny shares a warm smile with Duke, then pats his shoulder and heads back to the kitchen to start making a simple pasta dinner. 

Life in Gotham is weird and stressful and full of ghosts and heroes who won’t leave him alone. But it’s not all that bad, really. He’s happy with how he’s doing in college, and he’s beyond lucky to have Duke as a roommate. So long as Duke never finds out about his halfa status, then he’s sure they’ll be able to last all four years rooming together.

He just needs to keep a secret. 

Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

[specialagentlokitty]

Rosa diaz x reader - I just care

so i was thinking rosa diaz x female surgeon or nurse reader or even paramedic. anything to do with the medial world. maybe she gets hurt and comes into the ER and it’s angst / fluff. perhaps she got a broken bone nothing too serious. they’re just friends at first but when rosa is wheeled in reader gets scared and eventually confesses - Anon💜

Sitting at the nurses station, you were completing some paperwork from the few hours before that needed done.

“Why’re you still here?”

Glancing up, you smiled at Jason and sighed a little, holding up the papers.

“I’m on nightshift today, and I have paperwork to do. How about you?”

“Double shift.” He yawned.

You hummed, nodding your head a little bit, letting him come sit next to you at the desk, and he went to the computer.

“Think I can take a power nap?” He asked.

“Go for it, I’m first call anyways so they won’t need you unless it’s an emergency surgery.”

He hummed a little, resting his head in his arms and you pat his back a few times, covering him up with your jumper as you felt your pager buzz.

Taking his from him, you made your way down to the requested floor, still reading through your paperwork.

You weren’t paged for an emergency, you were paged for a consolation, so you weren’t in any real rush to get there.

“Well you took your time.”

“I’m clearly a busy person Daisy.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she handed you a file.

“Woman is in, she’s had an X-ray done already, just need someone to look at it and decide the outcome, I’m not trained on that and Matty told me to find someone to help.”

Sighing at the students doctor, you nodded, taking the file.

“Tomorrow you’re in my charge, he’s not going to teach you anything.”

“Can I come with you?”

Looking at your watch your waved her away with the file.

“No, go get yourself something to eat and a hot drink, you’ll come with me for the next one.”

Daisy nodded and walked away while you made your way over to the room, knocking on the door before you walked in.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N), I heard you took a nasty fall so we’re going to have a look at your X-ray and then decide what the best course of action is going to be.”

“Well I’m glad it’s you doing this.”

You whipped your head up at the voice, and you dropped the file on the table, rushing over.

“Rosa?! What the hell happened?!”

“Comes with the job you know this, I see you at pretty much every accident scene I’m at.”

You sighed, walking over you pulled a chair over, sitting in front of her as you held out your hand.

Rosa gave you her arm and you did a small check over, not saying a single word and she just watched you.

“It really isn’t that bad.” She said.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Pushing yourself away you took the X-rays across room so you could look at them, carefully examining them.

“It’s just a sprain, I just need the all clear so I can go.”

“I’m not giving you a false clear just so you can go back to work.” You snapped.

“I don’t see what your problem is, there isn’t anything on it.” She huffed.

“I have a duty to do my job correctly.”

“Last time I was in here you let me go straight away.”

You turned to her, glaring a little bit.

“Last time you were in here it was because you had a really bad migraine, this time you have a broken bone. I’m getting another X-ray.”

“It’s not broken!”

She stood up and you pointed at her.

“Sit down!”

Rosa blinked, and slowly she sat back down in her chair.

Storming out of the room, you ordered another X-ray from a different angle then went back once it came through.

Putting it up, you pointed to it, circling a part of her wrist with your finger.

“You’ve snapped your wrist, so you’ll need a cast. I’ll have somebody come in and sort one for you, then you can go. If there is no improvement in a month then we’ll have to consider the possibility of surgery.”

Taking the X-rays, you put them in the file and walked out, not wanting to deal with her anymore.

You ignored her texts and calls for a week, then while you were getting ready to leave, looking at your phone as you were heading towards the doors to enjoy a few days off, moved aside at the sound of yelling.

Glancing up, you turned back to your phone before snapping your head up.

“Rosa?!”

Running after them, you bared into the room and rushed to her side.

“What the hell did you do now?!” You hissed.

“Nothing…”

“She fell off her bike.” The EMT said.

You took a small breath, nodding your head as you turned to Rosa, sitting down in the chair next to her bed, wheeling back and forth.

“So you’re talking to me now?”

“Shut up.”

“What is your issue?”

“My issue is your lack of regard for your own damn safety Rosa! It terrifies the hell out of my because I love you and every time I see you come in here I think the worst!”

Rosa stared at you in shock and you realised what you had said, and quickly stood up.

“This time don’t argue with your doctor.”

With that, you left, slamming the door behind you.

You were angry at her, but now you were angry at yourself for telling her how you really felt about her

[sevenpoyo]

MILES G. MORALES CURRENT STUDENT INVOLVEMENT FILE

>LOG IN CONFIRMED >LOG IN TIME RECORDED >HELLO . >GUEST STAFF!< Notes for new office staff• •OOD- out of dorm. •All updated files will appear italicized until the new information can be confirmed and encrypted properly! Let’s all work hard to have a good year! —————————————————————— Let’s work as a team to keep our files and records secure and up to date! Double encrypt ALL files not related to regulatory procedures. Thank you! —Your Visions Brooklyn branch office staff♡!

Miles G. Morales

Currently a student of Future Visions Private Academy for the preparation of the practically and speculatively advanced, or, the last light of Brooklyn as some call it.

Miles doesn’t call it that.

Miles G. Morales, is a student at Future Visions Private Academy that some teachers don’t particularly enjoy having.

In true clarity, the majority of his instructor at Visions Academy for the Technically and Practically skilled do not like Miles Morales. 

And in their very socially esteemed opinion, he doesn’t make himself easy for them to like,

not when his uncle picks him up from a class of checks him out of his dorm at least twice a week, for reasons only cited as, “bonding activities”

or when he’s ahead in his work, but distracted or even disinterested in their classes, like he has something better to do.

or when the head of the English department is convinced that he’s sneaking out and his roommate and best friend is covering for him, though, he has no conclusive proof.

Still, it’s a point to be mentioned.

or when, most offensive of all, when desperate all this he’s easily outclassing their best, their legacy students, 

These students whose families have oh so generously donated club rooms and gyms to the school.

It’s absurd really, these students have been training to be the best, training to keep people like him in their proper place in the social order. he’s supposed to be one of those people that are smart enough to use, 

but for some reason it’s as if he’s read that version of his story, carved in stone, created from the day he was born or the day he became who he are, or whenever, and in some insane, incalculable bid of rebellion, he’s spray painted over it.

But, the words are still on the stone under his colorful, creative rebellion,

And maybe his fate can’t be changed.

maybe no ones can be.

FILE UNLOCKED!

GENERAL STUDENT INFO

NAME- Miles G. Morales

CURENT GRADE LEVEL- 10

CLASS SCHEDULE- currently unentered due to re-enrollment issues.

BEHAVIORAL RECORDS - N/A

TRUANCY RECORDS - Chronically absent, not currently a candidate for any teacher/guardian involvement.

VISIONS SCHOLAR LOG

Enrolled as one of Brooklyn’s 2022 lottery students. 

maintained grades to hold lottery enrollment 

Currently dormmed part time, should be making plans to transfer full time.

FRESHMAN YEAR EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITIES- N/A

SOPHOMORE YEAR EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITIES- Engineering and Technology/ Robotics Comp • mandatory OOD student participation

GUARDIAN SIGN IN/OUT LIST

Rio Morales— mother PRIMARY CONTACT

cell-********** work-**********-4221 (hospital extension)

Aaron Davis—paternal uncle

OTHER/PERSONAL NOTES

Nothing of note personal

some transfer files in correctly marked as Wiles, please disregard.

FILE END

make sure to save updates and inform I.T.!

BYE BYE!!-☆♪

I know Miles G. Probably doesn’t go to visions bc the whole burning and overrun city thing but I like school settings in fics and visions is such an underused setting for e-42 world building. I swear someone could cook with this and it’s gonna have to be me because if no one else will I’m gonna write what I wanna read. Haven’t decided 100% when I’ll introduce a reader but if I do it’ll switch between being centered on miles and the reader.