#the frat hat/glasses look will never get old
Text
Set Up : Frat!Johnny
🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!Reader
🔮 synopsis. Johnny is never rude to anyone. which is why your four frat friends, Doyoung, Taeyong, Mark and Haechan think it’s so odd that you clash heads with the six foot Chicago native. Lucas has a secret, your friends try to play match maker, and you get sabotaged on multiple occasions, but it’s just another week at the frat.
cw/ tw. frat nct, lots of shenanigans in the frat, the boys act as match makers with powerpoints, jokes about Mark having a mommy/daddy kink... MEAN Johnny, Dom!Johnny, multiple orgasms, fingering, oral (f receiving), choking, hand cuffs, sex without a condom (wrap it when you tap it), big boy Johnny, man handling, pet names, im not going to lie this was completely self indulgent fic- English major Johnny- mentions of Jane Austen as a date idea, Himbo Light Tower, etc...
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 14.4k
🍭 aus. frat, enemies to lovers, slow burn, crack, etc…
☀️ mlist + an. find the rest of my frat universe here
The music feels amazing - or maybe it’s the shot you’d taken when you’d arrived at the frat - either way, the next best thing to make your night exciting would naturally be: a boy.
You don’t have to wait long.
Hands find your waist, and when you look down, you let out a giggle.
It’s Halloween, and from the gloved mitts, striped orange and black, you think the guy behind you must be a… tiger?
You hope to god he’s not a furry.
You’re feeling bold. It’s the first time you’ve come out to the frat.
You’ve somehow become acquainted with a group of its members in a first year philosophy course. Mark, Haechan, Taeyong, and Doyoung, well, Haechan specifically, decided in first class that you would be their new best friend, and had continued to sit next to you every day until he made it a reality.
They’re nice guys, it feels good to have friends with frat guys who aren’t douchebags, you’ve met quite a few. There are some asshole frat boys, but you try not to think about that as you turn in your mystery man’s arms-
And come face to face with the biggest asshole frat boy of them all.
Well, that’s debatable, but to you, it’s a fact. Not that you have much experience with frat boys other than your small group of friends.
You’d met Johnny Suh on your first day of classes. He’d been in your introduction walk around group and his charismatic loudness had charmed many people… you were not one of them.
Johnny, meanwhile, couldn’t wrap his head around how big the stick up your ass must be for you to not appreciate him and his jokes.
In fact, he’d kind of taken it personally, and it has affected any friendship the two of you may have been able to start on that first day.
You see each other around campus, you even have a class together (where Johnny continues to be obnoxious), but this is the first time you’ve been face to face with him in ages.
You can tell from his expression, the way his brows pull together even under the stupid tiger hat, that the rambunctious frat man recognizes you too.
“Oh,” is all he has to say to you.
You mirror his frown, pulling away from the paws on your hips
“Are you a tiger?” you ask. “Who comes to a halloween party as a tiger?”
Johnny lets out an exasperated puff before rolling his eyes. “I’m Tony the Tiger. You know, the cereal? And what are you supposed to be?”
He takes in your halloween costume, eyes raking your form with a judgemental stiffening of his upper lip.
“For your information,” you glare up at him, “I’m one of the three blind mice.”
You pull your glasses out, the old specticals to go with the cane and tophat you’d also ditched earlier... and realize maybe this is super lame.
Maybe.
Haechan had come up with the outfit, not you, and apparently no one other than Taeil was whipped enough for Haechan to dress in a friendship costume for Halloween.
So here you are as the third blind mouse with neither of the others in sight.
Johnny cocks his head, “you’re friends with Haechan huh?”
“Are you?” you ask in shock.
Johnny laughs. “Sweetheart, you’re in my frat house.”
You’d gotten frat vibes from Johnny, but never stopped to consider he’d be in Haechan’s frat.
You open your mouth to say something snarky when your best soft boy friend, Mark, makes a sudden appearance up on your right, making both you and Johnny look at him.
“Mom, Dad, I don’t feel so good.” the red faced Canadian groans just as Haechan arrives like a babysitter that’s always three steps behind his charge.
“Mark, you’re so funny!” Haechan bellows, obviously tipsy, but also obviously trying to cover something up.
Trying to cover up Mark, who has reached out to play with Johnny’s tiger tail.
Mark is shit faced.
“Mark, let's get you some water,” you sigh, brushing over the fact that he’d just called you and Johnny mom and dad. You can make fun of him for that later, but right now, you need to get this child to safety.
“No, let’s party, he can deal with himself!” the maknae pouts, grabbing at you, “and where is the rest of your costume!?”
“Haechan, let me take care of Mark,” you say to the man who has forcibly made himself one of your best friends in the past few months. You look at Johnny as you direct Mark towards the bathrooms, making sure to lace your words with venom, “I was tired of this party anyways.”
Mark stops puking at around 2 am.
Although other frat boys have popped in and out of his room and the bathroom to check on the both of you, you’re the only one who’s been consistently with the resident music theory major.
Taeyong stuck around for a while, even gave you a new set of comfy clothes once it became clear that you’d be playing nurse for the long haul.
It’s now around 7 am and Mark is passed out in his bed.
His roommate, Yuta, had shown up in the room at around 3, taken one look at Mark moaning in pain, tangled in a dark duvet, with a puke bucket on the floor, and you sitting there, and the elder man had offered you his bed to get some much deserved shut eye.
Yuta is asleep with Mark now, and they actually look kind of cute: the elder of the two is the bigger spoon, and Mark is drooling on Yuta’s arm, which has become his pillow.
You’ve heard about Yuta with some frequency, but this is the first time you’re really meeting him.
A sleepy Japanese prince is not what you expected from tales of a mischievous flirt with anime character hair… which, you have to admit, is perfect even while he sleeps.
You sit up quietly, looking around the room for your few things.
Sleeping over had never been part of the plan, but Mark had needed you.
Now, you just want to get home and rest in your own bed, with sheets that don’t smell dualistically pleasantly and disgustingly like axe body spray and layers upon layers of cologne.
You wonder, momentarily, when the last time this bed was washed, and a shiver runs from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.
The frat is quiet as you escape Mark’s room and move down to the main floor. You figure you’ll grab a glass of water before you leave, just to feel a little cleaner.
You don’t even consider anyone else being awake, which is how you nearly bump into Johnny Suh for the second time in under twenty four hours.
“Jesus fu-” He stops himself, as he readjusts the cup of coffee in his hands that you’d nearly knocked to the floor. Then his eyes look at you. “What are you still doing here?”
What a wonderful thing to wake up to, you think.
You cross your arms over your chest and open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Johnny says, “Are you wearing Taeyong’s clothes?”
“What’s it to you?” you challenge him, narrowing your eyes. You know what he’s insinuating, but it’s none of his business, and besides, he has the wrong idea.
Johnny sips his coffee, still looking down at you. Neither of you have really moved from your near collision, and this close to the wall of a man you’d nearly run into, you’re starting to become aware of how large Johnny is, he truly invades your space, a cocky smile on his lips all the while.
“Just not used to seeing Taeyong’s fuck toys walking around the next morning.” Johnny answers smoothly. “He must not have tried too hard with you.”
You’re shocked by his words, jaw dropping at the fact he’d actually gone there-
“For your information,” you say firmly, “I’m not one of Taeyong’s fuck toys. He’s one of my friends, and I stayed over all night taking care of Mark, which is something that maybe you should have been doing after he called you dad.”
“Mama was working on it though, weren’t you, sweetheart.” he winks as he walks past you, not saying another word, and you look after him, gobsmacked, with your heart racing.
“I still feel bad about it though,” Mark frowns after apologizing for the seventh time since you all sat down for your Monday morning lecture.
“Mark, it’s fine,” you assure him, “if anyone should apologize, it’s Johnny.”
“Really? For what?” Haechan laughs, leaning in, visibly more interested in the conversation at the mention of his favourite six foot frat brother.
“I bumped into him in the kitchen when I left,” you explain. “And after seeing me in Taeyong’s shirt, that he’d given me while i was taking care of Mark, Johnny pretty much said i was one of Taeyongs ‘fuck toys’.”
The gentle man who’d done the crime of lending you a hoodie and sweats has ears that turn red at your words, and he immediately starts to sputter out excuses, “I’m really not a player-”
“Liar.” Doyoung shoves his friend with a laugh, “Taeyong’s a slime ball.”
“Am not!” Taeyong pushes Doyoung back with a smile.
“Do I have to sit between the two of you again?” you sigh, only half joking.
The fourth class of term you’d actually had to separate them because they’d started fighting over what movie they were going to watch that night, and things had started to get physical.
“And Taeyong,” you touch his forearm, “you can fuck whoever you want, I don’t care, it was just rude of Johnny to say.”
“That’s not like Johnny to be rude though,” Mark yawns, stretching his arms up and over his head before crossing them over his chest, a thoughtful look forming on his boyish features.
“Are you sure it was Johnny and not Jaehyun?” Haechan asks. “That sounds like something Jaehyun would say to fluster a girl.”
“It was definitely Johnny, but remind me never to talk to Jaehyun if that’s his tactic for ‘flustering’ women,” you laugh.
“Y/N, why are you single?” Taeyong asks.
It’s something that feels sudden to you, but it’s a question that’s been on his mind since he met you months ago.
You shrug, taking a moment before responding with, “I just haven’t found the right guy, i guess. Who knows?”
“We know guys,” Mark offers.
“You know frat guys,” you correct him.
“Hey, frat guys are nice too,” Haechan pouts, resting his head on your shoulder to remind you that he’s your baby whilst still being a frat guy.
“We could set you up with someone,” Taeyong insists, “we know lots of nice guys.”
“Like Kun,” Doyoung throws out a name.
“Or Winwin,” Haechan suggests.
“What kind of guy are you even into?” Mark is fully turned to look at you now, determined to set you up with a guy in penance for making you be his nurse at the party.
You open your mouth to respond, but that’s when the professor shows up to start the lecture.
“We’ll talk about this later,” you promise, with no clue that, for the next hour, all four of your companions will be making detailed lists about who they think they should introduce you to.
You’re not sure how you end up in Taeyong’s room, a glass of wine in your hands, with Haechan presenting a (shockingly) semi well put together powerpoint on which of his frat brothers you should date.
Haechan is the first presenter, and he seems to feel that you should date, shockingly, him.
But ‘if you don’t want his awesomeness and can’t give up your friendship’ (he said begrudgingly), he supposes “YangYang and Hendery are pretty cool, too.”
This immediately disqualifies him as having any sway in your choice, according to Doyoung, who states: “YangYang and Hendery are children, I thought we wanted to set her up on a date, not to go baby sitting.”
“Hendery is literally older than me,” Haechan deadpans.
“Exactly, disqualified,” Doyoung announces. “Taeyong. you go next.”
“I wanna go next,” Mark whines, earning some bickering that results in Taeyong giving in to the younger man.
Mark’s powerpoint isn’t as chaotic as Haechan’s was, in fact, it’s actually kind of okay.
Mark suggests Yuta as a potential date and cites “anime” and Japan being “the shit’ as reasons to go out with Yuta. He shows not one, not two, not three, but six different pictures of Yuta’s hair in an attempt to sway you.
His second potential boyfriend for you, is Johnny, and Mark holds his hands up in defence immediately when you gawk at him.
“Okay, hear me out on this. You two started on the wrong foot but he’s a nice guy-”
“Mark, I’m not dating Johnny to fulfil the weird Mommy and Daddy fetish you have for us,” you say as you sip your wine, giggling with the others at your own directness.
Mark blushes in response. “Oh my Jesus-” he groans, “I don’t have a mommy daddy fetish-”
“Next powerpoint.” Haechan smirks over his wine glass at his floundering friend.
You momentarily glimpse the list before Mark closes his powerpoint, barely registering the pro’s of Johnny.
Taeyong’s powerpoint is simple, providing a picture of his number one: Kun, and bullet points that read as follows: “can cook, nice, sexy smile, will treat you well, needs cuddles”.
“You know what? Those are all true,” Mark says after you’ve read the list out loud.
“Especially the last one,” Doyoung smirks. “He’s been trying to cuddle Winwin lately-”
“Which brings me to number two, Winwin!” Taeyong interrupts Doyoung, who, to be fair, interrupted Taeyong’s powerpoint first. “He is tall, quiet, a sweet boy, and good at everything.”
“And he’s cute.” Haechan points out, nudging you with his shoulder.
They’ve been trying to get you to rate their frat brothers on a scale of one to ten for the past week with little success.
Doyoung’s powerpoint is last, and he starts by thoroughly detailing the members you shouldn’t even look at.
“Jaehyun,” he begins sternly, “a man slut, doesn’t use sheets, never showers-”
“Thinks being mean to girls is flirting,” Haechan interjects.
“You’re a hypocrite, but yes, avoid,” Doyoung concludes. “Next, Lucas. Don’t be fooled Y/N, he’s six foot, but this kid-”
“You can’t just spill Lucas’s secrets!” Taeyong smacks a hand over Doyoung’s mouth. “Just trust us, you don’t want Lucas.”
“But he looks like a big puppy,” you say, endeared, leaning in to get a better look at the image Doyoung has used for his powerpoint.
“Why did you even show her the bad ones?” Haechan takes the mouse from Doyoung to skip to the next powerpoint slide.
“So she knows who to avoid,” Doyoung answers, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“You literally just showed her two of the hottest guys in the frat and then said ‘avoid them,’” Mark giggles, enjoying the craziness that naturally comes from hanging out with this particular group.
“I think, the clear answer to who Y/N should date, comes down to what she’s looking for,” Doyoung says, when Haechan finds the slide with the most info on it, “So I broke everyone down into categories and awarded points-”
You take one look at the spreadsheet and groan, hiding in Haechan’s embrace as he also tries to escape the numbers on the screen.
“It’s Friday night,” Haechan moans. “Why numbers?”
Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Fine, if you don’t want to read my exact spreadsheets and scoring, then, long story short, I kind of agree with Taeyong about Kun.”
“What?” everyone sits up to look at Doyoung, who refuses to meet your eyes.
He hates agreeing with Taeyong.
“Kun is mature, kind, volunteers a lot, he’s in the pre med program- he can cook, he can clean-” Doyoung lists Kun’s accomplishments off the top of his head and you watch with a smile.
“Sounds like you should date Kun,” you tease.
“You know what? Fine, maybe I should.” Doyoung crosses his arms over his chest. “And I guess you can have Taeil,” he switches to his number two option and earns a “Hey! Taeil is mine!” from Haechan.
“So, I guess… Kun then?” Mark asks.
“He’s the most suitable.” Taeyong shrugs.
“According to Doyoung’s creepy math game he did,” you point out, making Doyoung screech and flip back to the math slide.
He tries to explain it, but you’re already conversing with Haechan and Mark, thick as thieves as Haechan scrolls through Kun’s instagram to show you pictures of the pretty man in pre med.
Kun’s charming, his smile inviting, and he’s a great conversationalist.
“I don’t think you realize how much the others must trust you,” Kun says as you’re walking from bubble tea to the theatre.
“How do you mean?”
“Haechan suggested I take you to this movie,” Kun tells you, “It’s the biggest secret of the frat apparently. Wednesdays at four, the campus movie theatre will be practically empty. Sometimes we go during reading week all together, but it’s nice to go on a Wednesday you have off and get the best seats and have the whole place to yourself.”
“Your frat secrets are kind of lame.” you joke, earning a chuckle from Kun who nods.
“It’s true.”
“Taeyong said there’s some secret about Lucas, but he wouldn’t let Doyoung tell me about it.”
“And you’re hoping I will?” Kun can read you easily, and he smiles.
He thinks you’re cute, and he’s flattered that out of the whole frat, he’s the guy your friends thought should take you out. It means he must be doing something right.
“Please?” you grin.
“Lucas’s secret, let me think.” Kun runs a hand through his hair. The secret is pretty obvious to him, seeing as Lucas doesn’t really have secrets. In fact, is this even a secret? “On second thought, maybe I shouldn’t tell you.”
Your heart sinks in disappointment but you don’t push him.
At the theatre, Kun pays for popcorn like a gentleman and you both head in. He was right about it being practically empty. There are three singles scattered around the lower half of the room, so you and Kun find a place in the middle, the best seats.
Things look like they’re going to go smoothly, the lights turning off to signify the start of the movie- and thats when shit hits the fan.
Someone slides into the seat next to Kun and when you look over, your eyes meet Johnny’s, “wait, fuck-” he looks between you and Kun, “Am i crashing a date?”
“Yes,” you seethe as Kun asks “what are you doing here?”
“Haechan said they’d be playing a fun movie today and I had time, he said a few frat guys might be here and I saw you sitting in our usual spot so i just-” Johnny is trying hard not to look at you, trying to explain the situation to Kun, “but fuck, what’s she doing here?” he can’t hold back any longer, looking at you, “this is our frat’s secret movie time-”
“You don’t own this theatre, Johnny,” you hiss at him.
He glares at you, then he reaches out and steals some of Kun’s popcorn, and you can’t believe-
“Can you like… sit somewhere else?” The words are harsh as they leave your lips.
“Nope,” Johnny answers firmly, turning to look at the screen as the ads start to play, “these are frat seats, you should move.”
Kun sighs as he sits between the two of you.
Of course no one mentioned the fact that you have beef with Johnny, notoriously the scariest frat boy when mad-
Kun puts two pieces together and realizes that Haechan had a hand in this mischief.
Now if only the pre med student could play detective and come up with the reason why Haechan would set this whole thing up-
Your leg is bobbing slightly from anxiety and Johnny leans over Kun to tell you to stop, his hand resting on your thigh to force you to adhere to his warning.
Kun sees what’s going on.
Although it’s clear that you and Johnny don’t.
Haechan must think the tension between you and the tall Chicago man is sexual, and Kun can definitely see it, buried beneath the garden variety aggression you’re both showing each other.
You shove Johnny’s hand away, knee bobbing even harder and the man on Kun’s right throws his head back, groaning.
This is going to be a long movie.
“Haechan?” Kun calls when he knocks on the door to the younger man’s room.
“Come in!” it’s Taeyong’s voice, not Haechan’s.
When Kun enters Haechan’s room, he’s met by Mark, Yuta, Taeyong and Doyoung.
The man who’s still fresh from his date is taken aback for a moment at the congregation here, on a Wednesday night? Then he sees they’re all crowded around a phone.
“Is Y/N telling you about the movie?” Kun asks, realizing nearly immediately what’s going on.
“No.” Mark grabs his phone and pockets it, a true friend, Kun thinks; making sure your thoughts about Kun are private despite Mark being friends with both of you.
“I just wanted to say, Haechan, I think you’re right about Y/N and Johnny.” Kun’s eyes land on the abnormally quiet member.
Haechan laughs, not the least bit ashamed of having been caught tampering with Kun’s date.
“What do you mean?” Doyoung looks between them both, having obviously been kept in the dark in regard to the younger mans meddling ways.
“Haechan sent Johnny to crash the date,” Kun answers, “at first I wondered why, but then I saw it too, the way they bicker-”
“Haechan, did you purposefully ruin Kun’s date after we voted-” Doyoung stands up aggressively, Taeyong holding him back with a grin.
“I never voted for Kun,” Haechan says. “No offence, Kun. Mark pointed out Johnny as an option and I just thought-”
“Haechan!” Johnny arrives in the room next, having gone to the kitchen when they got back after the movie before heading up here.
“Johnny!” Haechan beams at his older friend.
“You set us up,” Johnny says angrily, coming to stand next to Kun. “You told me people would be at the movie-”
“They were!” Haechan insists, “Y/N and Kun are people!”
“I don’t know what you think you’re trying to do,” Johnny glares, “but this shit better stop.”
“What shit?” Haechan blinks cutely.
“If I see her around again-”
“You’re gonna what?” Haechan is playing with fire, “Kiss her?”
Johnny nearly lunges at Haechan, who throws himself behind Mark to use as a human shield.
Taeyong, Doyoung and Yuta grab at Johnny, stepping into their roles as peace keepers, and Kun takes a step back. He’s not really part of this, that much - at least - is clear now.
The premed student slips from the room without saying anything, allowing the others a chance to work this out without him there.
“Just admit you like her!” Haechan screams from behind Mark while Johnny gets visibly angrier.
“I don’t!” Johnny yells back. “You know what?!” he stops struggling. “Fine, if you guys want to play this way, I can be mean too.”
He already has been mean to you, but Taeyong doesn’t think that needs to be pointed out as he watches Johnny.
“What are you going to do?” Taeyong asks when Johnny doesn’t immediately reveal a plan to ‘be mean’, which is setting Taeyong on edge as the frat president. This is his responsibility.
“If you guys want to set her up with Kun, I can set her up with Jae.” He pulls out his phone.
“We voted against Jaehyun though,” Doyoung says.
“I never voted,” Johnny states.
Like father, like son, Taeyong thinks sarcastically to himself, eyes darting between Haechan and his resident ‘Big’ frat brother.
“Someone has a girl they want me to bone?” Jaehyun’s head pokes through the door a moment later.
“Absolutely not,” Doyoung says immediately.
Johnny just smirks, handing his phone over to Jaehyun, which is open on your instagram profile. “She’ll probably be at the next party,” he says after a moment of a visibly interested Jaehyun scrolling through your social media-
“We won’t invite her,” Doyoung interjects.
“I already did though,” Mark frowns.
After the Halloween party- well, if he gets shit faced again, having you around is a good thing. Mark realizes maybe he does have a slight, odd, mommy kink, now that he thinks about it-
“She’s cute,” Jaehyun says, eyes darting over Johnny’s phone screen.
Taeyong swallows thickly at this. It feels like Johnny is offering you up to a hunter, his next prize-
“She’s our friend.” Taeyong says, trying to sound dominant, but he falls short when facing Johnny, who takes one look at him and chuckles.
“Did you hear that Jae? They don’t want you to fuck their precious girlfriend,” Johnny taunts.
“She’s really nice,” Yuta says.
“Hey, you’re not one of her boyfriends, stay out of this.” Haechan pushes at Yuta, who laughs.
“What’s going on here?” Jaehyun looks amongst the men, trying to identify the source of the drama. “Are you guys actually all dating this girl-”
“Of course not,” Johnny takes his phone away, “in fact, Jaehyun, think of it as a competition-”
“Oh no-” Taeyong hides his face in his hands.
Jaehyun loves competition.
Johnny is way too smart for this shit.
If Jaehyun thinks of sleeping with you as a competition… then, he’s going to win. He always does.
Taeyong once saw Jaehyun scale the on campus library building on a dare just to say he could, with no prior climbing experience. the captain of the university soccer team had taken one look at Haechan demonstrating how to (sort of) climb, and had somehow become an expert off of the one shit tutorial.
“Me versus them?” Jaehyun smirks as he looks at the room. “Easy.”
“So if you see this man,” Doyoung forces his phone in your face again, “Do not interact.”
“I get it,” you push his hand away, tired of seeing Jaehyun’s picture over and over again, as if you don’t already know what he looks like. “You guys still haven’t told me why Jaehyun is going to come talk to me, I’ve never met him.”
Taeyong had decided it be a good idea not to tell you that Johnny’s the one behind this new… speed bump in your love life- the one they now feel responsible for: Jaehyun being horny and on the loose.
Haechan and Mark are team Johnny, with unwavering faith in their Hyung being a good match for you.
Whereas Doyoung and Taeyong are more cautious, trusting what you’ve verbalized to be your feelings over Kun and Haechan’s ‘notes on sexual tension’.
Taeyong and Doyoung think it’s best if they let you and Johnny stay away from each other, which is what you’ve both said you want.
And Mark and Haechan? Working like nasty little gremlin cupids to get you and Johnny either together, or close enough that they can use Jaehyun to make Johnny jealous.
The jealousy angle is Haechan’s hypothesis, obviously, but Mark thinks he has a good plan here. And worst comes to worst, Johnny doesn’t get jealous and you maybe make out with Jaehyun- who, honestly? is a nice guy.
Mark thinks you two could be cute together.
Johnny is in the kitchen with Lucas and Jungwoo. Sometimes the three of them find each other simply due to their height and then cumulate like a beacon of himbos for all the pretty girls coming through the front door, only to be star struck by the trio.
Haechan pulls out his phone and his stalking skills go into effect- only to have snap chat’s location services become useless by the fact that you’re in the same house, and the app can’t specify your floor level.
How else can he find you?
A quick look around the room tells Haechan that Jaehyun is nowhere to be found. And if Jaehyun is intent on following through with Johnny’s challenge, however stupid it may be, he’ll be nearby you.
Haechan puts himself in Doyoung’s shoes. You’re at the party with Doyoung, where would you be if not in the main room? Upstairs in a bedroom hanging out with… Taeyong isn’t around either, or Yuta now that the maknae thinks of it-
Haechan’s eyes narrow.
You’re having a mini party in someone's room and didn’t invite him or Mark, it’s the only plausible option.
Haechan knows it’s because Doyoung views them as the enemy now, in this twisted game of wing-manning that Haechan may also be completely adhering to the imaginary rules of.
So that means you’re either in the ‘DoTae’ room, or YuMark’s… YuMark… Haechan’s too drunk to come up with ship names right now. His body carries itself upstairs and he heads to Doyoung’s room first.
The upper floors are only accessible for people in the frats and close friends, and because of this there are only a few people in the halls.
Haechan’s eyes spot Jaehyun hanging out and chatting with a girl, Taeil and Winwin.
Jaehyun looks at Haechan who smirks, ducking into Doyoung’s room, which Jaehyun is obviously monitoring from a distance. He’s not really friends with you, so unlike Haechan, Jaehyun can’t just casually walk in and insert himself into the conversation.
Completely unshockingly, when Haechan enters Doyoung’s room, there you are.
Doyoung has a glass of wine, and Haechan wonders how he ever gets laid.
Taeyong is seated comfortably, lounging with a lazy look in his face and a bottle of beer between his fingers.
Yuta has the saké out.
You’re sitting there in the middle of it, the pretty prize everyone has been obsessed over for weeks- And you have no idea.
“Y/N!” Haechan puts on his sweetest drunk voice. “Come dance with me!”
You don’t stand a chance against those puppy dog eyes and everyone in the room knows it.
You’re rising to your feet before you can even register that you’re agreeing.
Haechan smiles sweetly at you, and as he ushers you through the door, his grin turns into a smirk, flaunting his win over the others.
Haechan’s fingers lace with yours as he pulls you past Jaehyun, loitering in the hall, and down the stairs again, to the main room where the music is the loudest and the people make it easy to get lost, although, Haechan still has eyes on Johnny and the Himbo Light Tower.
“Haechan!” you squeal when he stops in the middle of the room, turning to pull you into a hug.
He sways a little to the music and begins to sing obnoxiously in your ear, you realize he’s not flirting with you, no, his behaviour is more playful.
Your friend pulls away from you but keeps your fingers locked, singing even louder and more like a mad man as he gets you into the song.
He’s drunk.
You know it.
He knows it.
Johnny, who can clearly see you both... he knows it too.
But one thing you don’t know about drunk Haechan, as you haven’t seen him this sloshed, is that drunk Haechan enjoys this magical thing he calls ‘platonic kissing’.
When Haechan does it with the guys, it’s one thing - grabbing them and pressing kisses to their cheeks or even their necks - but Johnny worries that you may react… badly.
Haechan hasn’t had a female friend in ages. Johnny can tell that he’s on the precipice of becoming “sloppy Haechan”, and as much as you annoy the shit out of Johnny, he’s not sure he can let you become the next thing in the path of destruction that is hurricane Hyuck.
“Who’s that girl with Haechan?” Lucas asks, nudging Johnny’s shoulder as he follows the other man’s gaze.
“Ooh Y/N?” Jungwoo perks up, eyes also landing on the two of you. “She’s friends with Mark, and Doyoung, Haechan, of course, and Taeyong,” he pauses, blinking thoughtfully, “And Johnny?”
Jungwoo’s a little drunk, but Johnny knows for a fact he sometimes puts on the stupid act, especially since he went blonde, to get his way with things.
Jungwoo is curious about the drama, and who better to worm information out of than the source himself. Johnny admires Jungwoo and his tactics.
If the pretty mechanical engineer ever wants anything in life, he’ll find a way to get it.
“She’s not my friend.” Johnny clarifies for them both, “but I should go step in before Haechan starts kissing her-”
“Jealous?” Lucas’s smug voice makes Johnny stop and turn to look at him.
“Jealous?” Johnny laughs at the word, “of Haechan?”
“The girl is cute.” Lucas shrugs.
First Jaehyun, now Lucas?
And, Johnny supposes, maybe Haechan’s even under your spell.
What’s with this, and how did you end up in his frat of all the possible frats?
Johnny shakes his head, too tired to argue as he wades into the crowd.
Haechan spots Johnny and the Chicago native is almost happy when the younger man lets go of you in favour of him, throwing his arms around Johnny, whose name he bellows loudly.
Johnny can’t even bring himself to feel angry at Haechan for dragging you to the dance floor for sloppy drunk shenanigans. Haechan’s too cute and snuggly in his arms.
Haechan is a master manipulator, and he takes these precious moments of hugging to come up with a plan.
“I’m tired,” Haechan says, fake yawning. He knows how cute he is. “Can you guys take me to bed?”
“Both of us?” you ask.
“Yes.” Haechan reaches out to grab your hand, forming a link that you know he’s not going to give up on easily.
You and Johnny exchange a look and he sighs, rolling his eyes, “Let’s get you to bed,” he says.
Johnny leads the way upstairs towards his and Haechan’s room.
As you near it, Haechan runs ahead, earning a groan from Johnny.
When you reach the room, Haechan climbs out the window.
“I-” your eyes widen and you look to Johnny, who doesn’t seem too phased.
“He climbs out there all the time.”
“Not while drunk!?” you say, hoping.
“Not while drunk.” Johnny agrees, then bounds over to the window, sticking half his body out of it to look at Haechan on the roof outside. “Haechan, get your ass back in here.”
“Maybe you should come and get me,” Haechan smirks, playing on his drunk persona even though the night air, and maybe the hight of the roof, has sobered him up a bit.
Johnny doesn’t answer, he stands up in the room and looks at you, “he’s fine.”
“He’s on the roof, he’s not fine!” you rush over to look out.
It’s not super far down but-
“Go get him,” you say.
“What?” Johnny laughs. “No. You go get him.”
“Fine.” you grab the windowsill to pull yourself out and Johnny stops you, one massive hand wrapping around your forearm.
“Hey, stop, what are you doing?”
“Going out to get him, I told you-”
“No, it’s dangerous.”
“It’s worse for him, he’s drunk!”
Johnny groans, “this is obviously a trick.”
He’s used to Haechan and his mischief after having lived with him.
You’re not.
“A trick?” you gasp. “I’m going out there.”
Johnny tries to stop you but you push him, and despite you being much smaller physically, your motion sends him a few feet back.
He groans, hating that he’d had to release you, or risk pissing you off even more.
Johnny watches you climb out the window. “If you die-”
“If I die, you can laugh like the devil you are,” you seethe, holding tight to the wall even though you have some standing room.
“Johnny Hyung! Come look at the stars with us!” Haechan calls to the man who has stuck his head out of the window to watch you both.
Johnny nearly jumps out of his skin when Mark shows up next to him.
“Shit, you have to go and help her,” Mark says.
“What’s with everyone and going on the roof? Haechan will be fine!” Johnny groans. “And Y/N would be too if she hadn’t gone out there-”
You let out a small squeal and Johnny finds himself half out the window, body immediately jumping to your aid.
“Mark,” he stops to look at the Canadian, “this window locks from the inside, this stick keeps it up, don’t let it close,” he warns, this is just one of the reasons he hadn’t wanted to go out in the first place.
“Haechan’s really busted this window up huh?” Mark giggles to himself as Johnny sets his eyes on you... and Haechan, he guesses.
“Did you slip?” Johnny asks you, wondering why you’d squealed.
“A little,” you admit shyly.
The ledge is semi slanted and not super wide, so even if you were walking it wouldn’t be comfy.
You’re sitting now with your feet dangling off the edge, Haechan looking as comfortable as ever next to you.
“It’s not that long of a fall,” the mischievous drunk says.
“Then you jump it,” Johnny growls.
Haechan shakes his head. “I climb down that thing.”
And then, Johnny watches as he goes over and does just that, climbing down the trellis for flowers, which Johnny is sure many frat boys have used over the years.
“Let me help you get up to your feet, and then we can go back in the window-” Johnny says to you, turning to look in the direction he came- and he watches as Mark slowly closes the frame.
He can tell Mark’s motions are delayed because he questions himself, but the moment of pausing, of showing Johnny what he’s about to do- it’s almost crueler.
The window slams shut, and for good measure, Mark locks it too, even though Johnny is sure it’s going to be stuck now until Haechan can wedge it open again.
Johnny will never know what that kid did to ruin the window this badly-
“They planned this,” Johnny realizes. “No fucking way.”
“I told you, you never want to be my enemy, loser!” Haechan calls up from the ground.
Johnny had never realized that the second floor is actually decently high up. Are the ceilings on the main level above standard? Or maybe it just looks like a long ways-
“Come sit.” you sigh, bringing Johnny back to reality as you pat the space next to you. “And Haechan? Go to sleep or have some water.”
“Yes mom.”
The younger man sticks his tongue out at you before winking and heading inside.
A few people are watching the whole thing from near the fire pit while smoking. Jungwoo and Lucas look up at Johnny, and then even Jaehyun shows up.
“Are you two alright?” the newest man outside is the first of the three to ask a question in the small time it’s been since Haechan left you stranded in shock.
Lucas hands him a cigarette and Jaehyun takes a drag while Johnny relays that you’re both okay.
“Why’d he call you mom?” Lucas asks.
“Don’t you know?” Jungwoo giggles, “Mark has a mommy daddy fetish for Y/N and Johnny.”
“Oh.” Lucas nods, but you can see he still doesn’t truly understand what Jungwoo is saying.
Jaehyun chuckles, having realized the same thing you just did. “Maybe we should leave these two.”
He’s picked up on everything.
Haechan wouldn’t go to that much trouble to get you and Johnny together without an ulterior motive, and employing sweet innocent Mark?
Jaehyun, like Kun, is yet another casualty in a love war being fought in the frat.
Looks like this is a win for Haechan side, if he even has a side other than his own self interest and match making aspirations.
With one last drag and a wink from Jaehyun, the three head inside to leave you at peace with Johnny, who’s still shocked by Haechan and Mark’s dual betrayal.
Is it a betrayal though?
Haechan has tried twice now to get you together, and as much as he acts like it’s all mischief, there must be something pure at heart there-
With Haechan, there always is.
Maybe Johnny should just follow Haechan’s intuition.
“Are you scared of heights,” he asks softly, and it’s the first truly calm, peaceful, pleasant thing he’s said to you.
You think about it. “it’s not a long ways down,” you tell him. “I know we could make it, it’s just odd sitting in this position with your legs hanging like this.”
Johnny looks down and is suddenly shaken by a sense of vertigo.
“Let’s look at the stars then.”
You laugh, following his lead and tilting your chin up. “I can’t believe sweet baby Mark just closed the window on you-”
“I know,” Johnny laughs. “I wonder if this was always the plan or spur of the moment.”
“Good question,” you cock your head as you consider it. “A bit of both maybe?”
There’s a moment of silence, then: “Why do you hate me so much?”
“What?” you laugh.
“If they put us together, it’s for a good reason. So. Why do you hate me?”
“I don’t hate you-”
“Coulda fooled me,” he rolls his eyes and nudges you with his shoulder.
“See, that’s what it is, the cockiness.”
Johnny laughs like it’s a joke; “You think I'm cocky.”
“Why do you hate me!?”
“Because you don’t laugh at my jokes.”
“Well i just don’t find you particularly funny,” you throw back, narrowing your eyes as you lean towards him, the air thick with tension. Neither of you want to back down.
“Because you’re bias and prejudice.”
“You don’t even know what that word means.”
“Oh really? What’s my major huh? Little miss smarty pants?” Johnny glares at you. “Why wouldn't I know what the word Prejudice means? Too Jane Austen for you?”
“Are you an english major?” you ask him in shock, momentarily taken aback by the turn of events.
Maybe you do have him pegged wrong.
English majors are cute. You’ve always had a thing for them- you wonder why no one had mentioned this about Johnny before- wait. ‘English Major’ had been on Mark’s power point… hadn’t it?
Had Mark known you best of all? And even gone against the status quo in the off chance it would convince you to give Johnny a chance? And what does Haechan also see in the tall man? To be this devious to get you together?
You can’t lose your trust in those two, not now.
“You have a hard on for English Majors, princess?” Johnny smirks at you.
“You see?! cocky!” you groan, turning to look at him and give him a piece of your mind- and you nearly fall off the roof.
Johnny grabs you quickly, and slams your body back against the wall with his arm-
“Watch it,” he growls, steadying you both, “look up at the stars.”
“I don’t take orders from you,” you glare, but do as you’re told. “Look, if we’re going to just argue, I want to talk about things that are interesting at least.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Like, Lucas has a secret that everyone seems to know about but me-”
“You’re not a frat brother.”
“I mean, I sort of am-” you tease, eager for the information more than anything else.
“You’re not in our frat secret club, even if Kun told you about movie Wednesdays,” Johnny says simply. “I’ll tell you someday, but not here.”
“Someday,” you laugh a little at the word, he sounds so certain. You suppose you are best friends with his best friends now, maybe he’s just accepted that you’re going to be around now.
“Listen. I’m going to pretend you don’t find my cockiness to be not fun,” he laughs to himself, “and maybe you could pretend I'm not so obnoxious. We can start over. I have to go kick Haechan’s ass, but on Wednesday, I’ll be at the movie theatre if you want to show up and fight me for the best seat.”
“Sounds like you’re asking me on a date, Mr. Suh,” you smile, skin heating at the prospect to betray your inner thoughts.
Why does this sound like such a good idea?
“No, I’m telling you to square up. Movie theatre, Monday at four, I’ll buy popcorn.” as if for theatrical flair, Johnny jumps off the roof. He lands in the grass, and looks up at you, a cheeky grin on his face, “it’s really not that far.” he tells you, “Jump down, I’ll help you.”
“Fuck it,” you take a leap of faith and land in Johnny’s arms.
He smiles when he sets you down.
“I thought you’d need more convincing,” he admits.
“You don’t know me, we’re starting over right?” you ask.
“True.” Johnny nods.
“It’s been nice to meet you Johnny, now go kick Haechan’s ass.”
Haechan’s ass kicking consists of Johnny locking him out for the night. Haechan, of course, went back to the party after stranding you on the roof, and he’d stumbled up at two AM to find his bedroom door locked.
You had gone to hang out with Doyoung and Taeyong, who generally prefer to spend time together at the wind down of big frat parties.
Kun, oddly enough, had shown up at twelve and offered to drive you home. The car ride had been pleasant, and Kun hadn’t asked you about Johnny or talked about the awkward date you’d had.
You think it’s obvious at this point that the set up between you and Kun hadn’t worked. Instead, he asks you about your friendship with Doyoung, Mark, Taeyong and Haechan, and he’s even able to give you some insight on them.
Turns out they’d all taken the first year course you’d met them in for fun, something you already knew, but the new information is that they’d mostly planned on skipping.
You’re the reason they attend at all, which Kun complimented you for. He’s never known something to bribe all four like that, well- money and beef could convince those men to do just about anything- but Kun had a point.
He watched you walk all the way to your door, even waving to say goodnight before driving off.
You wake up the next morning in a daze, shocked at the night events.
Johnny kind of asked you on a date.
You’re not sure why you didn’t tell Taeyong and Doyoung after the fact, but you find yourself messaging Mark and Haechan in their separate ‘young ballers’ group chat where they primarily spend the time shitting on Doyoung’s taste in wine.
By noon you’re in a diner, shuffling into a booth with Haechan and Mark, both of whom look like shit, which you expected on a Saturday after a frat party.
Haechan tells you about having to sleep in Taeil’s room, and this begins a discussion about why Haechan loves Taeil the most-
You enjoy being with Mark and Haechan, and soon plates of food are placed in front of you.
“So Johnny asked me out,” you say when Haechan is mid bite of food, causing him to sputter dramatically.
Mark smacks the younger man on the back, looking at you with doe eyes. “You mean the roof plan worked?”
“Sort of,” you answer. “We’re restarting, as if we’ve never met. Maybe we could be friends.” You shrug.
“Friends who wanna fuck,” Haechan says loudly, earning a hand over the mouth from Mark who is not having his shenanigans this early in the morning.
“So basically it’s a movie on Wednesday,” you explain.
“So original.” Haechan rolls his eyes, that had been his plan for Kun’s date with you last week. He can only pay the Dreamies off to get them to stop going and date crashing for so long-
And to see Johnny with a girl? He’s pretty sure they’re going to up the price on that one.
Kun Hyung had been one thing, but Johnny- well he might actually get some action-
Haechan needs to get his mind out of the gutter.
“Why are you two so convinced about this?” you ask.
“Because Johnny never hates anyone,” Mark answers. “The fact that you two don’t get along-”
“It just doesn’t happen,” Haechan interjects.
“If we’re wrong, then we’re sorry.”
Haechan snorts, “Speak for yourself.”
“Dude,” Mark groans, beginning to argue with his friend about their responsibility, and how locking you on the roof was kind of irresponsible- someone had threatened to call the fire department on them- (Haechan debunks this and says it was Doyoung who made the threat and he of course, never followed through, or even went to check on you or Johnny-)
Conversation with these two is easy.
They don’t make a big deal out of the whole thing, and breakfast proceeds pleasantly.
Monday, however, doesn’t go over as well.
“Johnny? Really?” Doyoung can’t believe it, his eyes clenching as he makes a disgusted face, throwing his arms up in the air and turning in his seat to look at Taeyong. “She’s choosing a date with Johnny over Kun?”
“Johnny’s nice.” Taeyong shushes Doyoung, who is really most upset about being wrong in his matchmaking choice. His primary reasoning against Johnny was your verbal hatred of him, which has seemed to have done a 180 turn.
“I always knew it,” Mark says, something he’s been repeating since you all sat down.
“Actually Yuta ‘the Japanese Prince’ Nakamoto was your first choice, Mark Lee,” Haechan taunts.
“Well, Johnny wasn’t even on your list,” Mark retorts, annoyance evident in his tone.
“That’s cuz I’m not a little mommy daddy creep like you are-”
“I’m not a mommy daddy creep-” Mark says a little too loudly… just as your professor walks in.
Mark declares, an hour later - after sitting through the most embarrassing lecture in the front row of his life - that he’s going to drop out of this class and kill himself, not necessarily in that order.
“This fucker isn’t even picking me up,” you mumble into your cell to Mark as you make your way to the movie theatre.
“Does Johnny even have your phone number?” Haechan’s loud gum chewing invades the phone.
“No, but he could dm me on insta.”
“This isn’t even really a date though,” Mark points out. “He just said ‘ill be there, come fight me’.”
“It’s a date,” you say for the fifth time today, “it’s the way he said it-”
“Didn’t he legit say ‘come fight me for the best seat’?” Mark laughs.
“You know what? You’re not nice,” you hang up on him and call Haechan who answers with a giggle.
They’re in the same room, and you’d been on Mark’s speaker phone, but you’re making a point.
“She likes me better,” the maknae taunts Mark momentarily. “It’s a low maintenance date and you deserve better, baby.”
“Aren’t you the one who worked hard to set this up?” you laugh, in love with the shenanigans.
When you get to the theatre, you pay for your ticket and head in. Johnny is in the best seat already, and his legs are up, arms out.
You approach with caution. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he says, looking up at you while lazily motioning to the chairs on either side of him with his hands, “sorry, these seats are taken.”
“Fuck off,” you groan and turn to leave but he catches your hand.
“I’m kidding,” he laughs. “Old habits die hard.”
His large, warm hand tugs at your wrist, pulling you down into the seat next to him, and then he offerings you popcorn.
“I can’t believe no one comes to movies on Wednesday at four,” you say, looking around the empty theatre and gnawing on the treat thoughtfully, “why do they even run-”
“Do I look like wikipedia to you?” Johnny asks, head lolling back as he tosses popcorn up into the air, catching it in his mouth.
He knows the answer though: It’s one of his friends working tonight, thats the only reason they have the inside scoop. Ten’s good on this sort of thing, and he’s a pretty funny worker, always letting Johnny in for free.
Johnny’s pretty sure Ten charged you at the door even though Johnny told him you’d be showing up.
“What movie are we even watching?”
“Again with the questions,” Johnny laughs. “I don’t know, read the ticket.”
He sets the popcorn down and pulls his ticket from his puffer, handing it to you.
For a moment you appreciate his outfit. The poofy jacket is a pretty blue colour and his backwards baseball cap is boyish in the cutest way possible.
Your brows furrow as you read; “Pride and Prejudice (2005), what the-”
Johnny’s lips press to yours and cut off your sentence.
You’re a little shocked, but don’t pull away, which prompts the frat boy to kiss you harder. He moves the arm between your chairs up to get more space, then goes to cup your face. You groan a little when his teeth sink into your bottom lip, and he smirks against your mouth.
You push at his shoulder, “I can't believe you,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you sit in your chair.
Johnny laughs, “what?”
“We just met at the party and you kissed me on our first date, what kind of girl do you think I am?”
Johnny laughs.
He thinks you’re the kind of girl who will spend hours playing mom friend and taking care of a drunk bestie.
He thinks you’re the kind of girl who will crawl onto a roof to save a man who’s nearing something like gremlin levels of mischief… who doesn’t even need saving.
Instead of saying either of these things, Johnny notes your anxiously bobbing leg and muses with a sigh, “I think you’re the kind of girl who asks too many questions and should just relax.”
“Oh yeah?” you turn to look at him, realizing you’ve asked another question.
“Yeah.” Johnny’s eyes stay fixed to the screen, which plays dull trailers.
“Here, let’s role play,” you say, rolling your eyes at the way Johnny perks up, “I’ll be you and you be me.” You change your voice to be deeper, “I’m Johnny, and I think everyone needs to just be chill and that every girl desperately wants to fuck me-”
“And I’m Y/N, the femme fetal haunting Johnny, making his life in the frat miserable and even prompting one of his best friends to lock him on a roof,” Johnny throws back at you. “And I try to hide how desperately I want to fuck Johnny just like all the other girls-”
“Screw you Suh, maybe I’ll just go find Lucas and figure out his secret myself. If you have girls lining up to go on dates with you it shouldn’t be hard to find another one to watch this movie with you.”
Johnny chuckles, “still hung up on that secret, huh?”
“Always.”
Maybe he’ll finally tell you.
“Look, here’s the deal. The secret has to do with Lucas and a life skill he doesn’t have. If you really want to know the secret, you have to let me show you the life skill.”
“A life skill,” you repeat, “like driving?”
“Something like that,” Johnny smirks, as if he’d ever make this easy on you.
“Okay, I agree.”
“Great, now sit through this movie, be quiet, and afterwards we can go back to the frat so I can show you ‘the Lucas secret’.”
“You’re the one who’s going to have to stay quiet during the movie,” you say, taking some popcorn he offers you without thinking too much about it.
“Am not,” Johnny insists.
“Are too.”
“Silent game start now.”
Five minutes into the film he asks you if you think Mr. Darcy is sexier in this movie or ‘the other one’ as if the 1995 BBC adaptation is the only other version.
Johnny’s familiar shared room with Haechan greets you at dinner time. Johnny insisted on stopping for takeout on the way back from the movie, and he sets up a place for you to both eat. This is not a conventional first date, and you’re tired of treating it like one.
You kind of like the domesticity of it all, the way he pats his bed for you to sit down across from him.
He’s gotten rid of his puffer now, and you can appreciate the simple crew neck underneath, it shows off his massive shoulders-
You talk about your majors, about how Johnny got into English of all things.
“A guy like you just doesn't look like an english major,” you say.
“That’s English major prejudice,” Johnny retorts with a mouth full of ramen, “english majors can be hot.”
“That’s why I was surprised you’re one.”
Johnny sets his food down, he was done with it anyways, and then he takes a sip of his water.
“Take that back.” he says after swallowing.
“No,” you set your chopsticks down, smirking at Johnny triumphantly.
“Okay, well, have some water then,” he offers you the bottle.
His behaviour is throwing you off.
It feels like the calm before a storm, but you just wish the tempest would just hit already- you’ve realized you kind of enjoy pestering the big man.
You enjoy his reactions.
“Why do I need water,” you ask as you take a sip.
“Because I’m about to fuck the shit out of you, and show you all the different ways that Lucas can’t make women cum.”
“What?” you squeak, choking a little on your water as Johnny casually moves the food off the bed.
“You heard me. I told you I’d show you the life skill Lucas fails at, this is it,” he says, heading over to the door to lock it. “Cut the shit, I know you enjoy being a brat,” he comes to stand at the foot of the bed, your entire body turned to face him. “You want a reaction, here it is. Drink your water and then tell me how you want it first, I’ll keep my cock for last, but now, you get to choose, tongue or fingers?”
You lick your lips. “Both.”
Johnny laughs. “A brat and she’s greedy,” he tuts. “Maybe you don’t deserve it.”
“I do.”
Your voice is weak and Johnny grins when he hears it. How easy it is to make you putty in his hands. Where’s the fire? Have you seriously been all bark and no bite this whole time?
He watches as you lick your lips, swallowing thickly, “Also, if you’re going to show me all the different ways Lucas can’t make a girl cum, does that mean you’ll have to show me multiple positions?”
Johnny laughs, there’s the girl he knows.
“If you want.”
“So maybe more than just tonight then?” you inquire, stepping closer to Johnny, who’s super turned on by the change in events. He kind of enjoys you fighting back, just as much as you enjoy getting a rise out of him.
“Are you trying to lock down dick appointments, baby girl?” Johnny coos.
“You tryna deliver, hot shot?” you’re nearly chest to chest now.
“I guess I can give you both to start,” Johnny concludes, going back to the original matter at hand.
Then he bends down to lift you up, pressing his lips to yours and easily carrying you to the bed. You grab his face, an angry molding of teeth and tongues, a groan leaving Johnny when you bite his lip sharply.
He tosses you onto the bed and grabs the bottom of your pants. “Off,” he says, giving you just enough time to get your jeans unbuttoned before he’s tearing them completely from your body.
You enjoy the aggression, the way his pupils are blown with lust-
Johnny falls to his knees, hands dragging you towards his awaiting mouth. You watch the way he licks his lips, eyes focused on your core, “cute panties,” he pulls at the flimsy material, “looks like someone planned on getting laid tonight.”
“Yeah, just not with you,” you throw back at him, smirking when his eyes narrow.
“It’s like you want to be destroyed,” he says, nipping at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
You refuse to let a moan leave your lips although it bubbles up inside of you, body betraying how turned on you are even as your mind continues to want to fight the man between your legs.
“I do, so stop talking and get to it-” you reach down for his hair, and he smacks your hands away.
“No touching,” Johnny growls, fingers hooking in your panties and slipping them to the side. “So wet,” he smirks, thumb coming in contact with your clit as he spreads your slick around. His other hand pushes your thighs open wider to give him more space, his shoulders are just too damned large-
You hold your breath when Johnny moves closer, tongue taking its first test lick at your folds and making your toes curl. You grab onto the bed but it’s just not the same, so you reach for Johnny’s hair again.
“Did I not just tell you, no touching?” Johnny growls when he snatches your hands from the air, pinning them to your tummy as he looks up at you.
“I elected to ignore you,” you answer, toying the line playfully with a grin on your face.
You flex your hands, and both of you look down to his grip on your wrists.
“You want to be tied up, don’t you, kitten?” Johnny asks, releasing your wrists.
You can’t believe he’s suggesting handcuffs this nonchalantly, as if they’re just a casual bedroom toy for a first date fuck.
You want him to ruin you.
He takes your silence as a yes and you watch Johnny stand up and head to his closet. He comes out again with a pair of handcuffs. Not nice fluffy pink ones, or silk ties- but real handcuffs. They look durable. They look legit. They make your pussy throb looking all hot in his large hands like that-
You’re practically drooling, remaining docile and submissive as Johnny gets on the bed, prompting you to raise your arms above your head by direct brushes of his fingers against your skin.
Once your arms are where he wants them, the english major handcuffs you to the bed frame.
You watch the cuffs click into place, locking you in.
“If you’re not having fun anymore and can’t use a safe word, just kick me or something,” Johnny says when he gets between your legs again.
Now that you’re higher on the bed, he has to lay flat on his tummy to give his mouth access to your pussy, and you watch the way his hips grind down against the mattress.
You wonder if he’s even doing it consciously, or if his body is just super high strung too, tired of all this tension, ready to be released-
“Kicking you sounds like a great idea,” you say, the fighting words leaving your lips as a second nature, even though you don’t mean them.
Johnny laughs a little, nuzzling his face against your thigh. “You better be nice to me, kitten,” he clicks his tongue, fingers touching the wet patch on your panties that has formed since he allowed the fabric to move back into place.
“You promised to make me cum,” you point out, seeing your pleasure as pretty much a guarantee.
“I did.” Johnny tears your panties in two- “I want to have you cumming until you’re crying for me to stop.”
His mouth fully attaches to your pussy, tongue pressing into you. Your hands try to reach for Johnny only to be harshly stopped by cold metal, which is unforgiving as it bites into your wrists.
A gasp leaves your lips when Johnny’s tongue flicks your clit.
“First I’ll make you cum like this,” Johnny says, voice low and sending vibrations through your core deliciously, “And when you’re cumming, I’ll give you my fingers and force out another orgasm just to teach you a lesson.”
Overstimulation. Bondage. Dom Johnny. Pet names. Tension-
He’s eating you out so vigorously that you can hear the slurping sounds. It’s the most you can do to lay there, back arching off the bed as your muscles constrict and you cum on his tongue, pulling against your restraints when Johnny slips two fingers into you, as he promised he would.
Even as you cum, pussy pulsing with desire, Johnny continues his motions, fingers slamming into you roughly and creating new pleasure.
You’re not sure when one orgasm ends and the other begins, but you’re sure that Johnny has made you cum twice as he continues to work you despite your moans increasing in pitch.
“Fuck, Johnny-” you nearly scream when his lips return with full force to your clit.
Is he going to be this unrelenting the whole time? Two orgasms already? Can’t he just come up and kiss you?
His digits curl into you and your body shudders, caught in a liminal space where you’re coming down from your orgasm while simultaneously rising up to yet another one.
You can hear your wetness on his fingers, a pathetic squelching sound makes your skin heat with embarrassment.
“I need you,” you say, voice cracking.
The desperation is obvious, and it makes Johnny pull his mouth away from his prize, although his fingers continue.
“I’ve only made you cum twice, baby,” he chuckles, “think of all the other ways I can make you cum.”
You groan, eyes closing as you rest your head back in the pillows.
You’re tied up and at his mercy. He has all the control-
But his fingers just aren’t enough, not when you know for a fact that he’s packing.
Come on, a man this big? You’ve shamefully been considering his dick size for the past few days, and you’ve come to the conclusion that a happy seven incher would be nice, but he’s probably even bigger.
“Make me cum with your cock please?”
The ‘please’ thrown on at the end shocks you both.
“Are you really that dick whipped for me already?” he grins, pulling his fingers out of you, “shameful.”
His words make your skin flare with heat and embarrassment, and you keep your mouth shut as you watch his next move.
Johnny adjusts to be kneeling between your legs, and he holds himself over you with one hand while the other brings his digits to your lips, “taste yourself for me,” he commands.
You look into his eyes as you accept his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue and hollowing your cheeks, doing your best to be as sinful as possible in an effort to test his patience.
His lips are on yours the moment his fingers are gone, and your tongues clash for dominance. Your legs wrap around his waist tightly, forcing him to grind down against your exposed core. His blue jeans are an interesting texture, but not the one you want.
You pull against the handcuffs, groaning in frustration and sinking your teeth into Johnny’s lip.
“Uncuff me,” you pout when he pulls away to give you a warning look.
“You bit me so I’d uncuff you?” he asks, sitting up and rubbing at his lip dramatically.
Of course there’s no blood, it’s not like you’d bitten him hard… well, I mean, if he enjoys that sort of thing-
“Yes?” you look up at Johnny and he shakes his head at you. You’re half naked and he’s already made you cum twice. He has you in cuffs but you’re still in your shirt and bra, he hadn’t bothered to remove them, too eager to get to his meal-
Johnny reaches down and pushes the fabric up slowly, exposing a strip of your stomach.
You suck in a breath, staying still and watching the shirt rise higher and higher. Finally, he reveals your bra, letting your shirt go once it’s just under your arms.
“I guess I will have to uncuff you to take this off,” he sighs, reaching out to touch the pretty bra you’d worn, “or I could cut it off” he pulls the strap and it harshly smacks back against your skin when he releases it a moment later.
“Cut it off?” the words make your heart race faster in your breast.
Johnny smirks, humming, “a knife, or scissors-”
“If you ruin this bra, Johnny Suh, I swear to god-”
“I already wrecked the matching panties,” Johnny reminds you, pulling them out of his back pocket to flash them in front of your face. Your hands are cuffed and you can’t even try to grab back the material. “It’s cute that you wore a set for me.”
He tucks the lace back into his pocket. Then his hands both go to your waist, and he enjoys watching how large they are compared to you, how his long fingers look slowly going up and up until they’re brushing the underside of your bra.
“I told you,” you say, voice husky as you also enjoy the feeling of his fingers, “I didn’t plan on getting laid with you.”
“Stop lying,” one of his hands moves up to grab your throat, forcing you back into the pillows.
“Maybe,” you choke out, and he releases your neck enough for you to speak better, your smile widening, “you should actually fuck me and prove I’m here with the right guy.”
Two orgasms aren't enough for you it seems, and Johnny… honestly doesn’t mind?
He’s loving this brat side of you, loving the banter-
“I think I’ll just have some more fun first,” he concludes, hands going to your bra and lifting it. He forces the uncomfortable band up and holds it there so he can attach his lips to your nipple.
Your back arches off the bed and moans leave your lips as Johnny’s free hand cups your other breast, warm and soft- until he’s pinching your nipple.
“Johnny-” you whine, pulling against the handcuffs, “fuck-”
He stops pinching your nipple and you let out a breath- only to moan when two fingers slide inside of you again.
“Sometimes girls can cum just from their nipples being sucked,” Johnny says, looking up at you. “Should we see how long it takes for you to cum that way?”
You can’t believe him.
“You can make me cum like that another time- but please-” you swallow thickly, “I need your cock.”
This time, when Johnny looks up at you, he can see you’re broken fully. Can see the desperation in your eyes, all glassy and pretty-
Johnny realizes you’re so worked up that you’re on the verge of tears, and something snaps inside of his chest.
Is he being too mean to you?
You watch quietly as Johnny sits up. He removes his fingers from your core, licking them clean before he reaches over to grab the keys to the cuffs, which are sitting on the bedside table- They’ve been taunting you this whole time.
Johnny uncuffs you, and all it takes is one free hand for you to go straight for his cock. You lean up to press kisses against his exposed neck as he undoes your other wrist, chuckling even as you squeeze him through jeans.
Of course you’re not broken yet, it had been a farce, a trick to get him to uncuff you.
He doesn’t mind.
Once both your hands are free, Johnny goes to get your shirt off completely. It feels good once you’re fully bare, even if Johnny is still completely clothed. You can change that for him.
“Take this off,” you plead, pulling roughly at his shirt before your hands go back to his zipper, getting it down-
Johnny sits up and you groan in frustration, missing his warmth, his smell-
Most guys strip quickly, but Johnny? You kind of love that he puts on a small show for you.
He reaches behind his head to bunch up the fabric near the nape of his neck, opting for that form of shirt removal as opposed to a normal ‘grab the hem and lift up’ style. You have to admit, you’ve seen videos of men taking their shirts off this way and been struck by how sexy it is, but with Johnny?
You can feel yourself getting wetter just by watching.
Once his shirt is gone, his hands move down to his jeans, and you struggle to find time to appreciate his muscular form while also watching the movement of his hands eagerly.
You’d gotten his belt undone, the top button, and the zipper down, but you’re kind of happy that’s all you got to do- because now you get to watch Johnny strip.
His hair is messy and he looks gorgeous with his head tilted, watching you as he toys with the waistband of his jeans.
Can’t he see that you’re practically foaming at the mouth with need for him?
With wrists newly freed you reach for Johnny, making grabby hands to show him how badly you want him.
You’re tired of verbally begging, but you don’t want him to smack your hands away if you actually touch him, no, grabby hands are the way to go.
He thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen in his entire life, and as he looks down at you, he gets mad that you’re perfect for him.
The tension in the air is addicting, and Johnny is done playing around. He has extreme patience, but you’re testing him, more than any girl before you ever has.
Johnny decides he misses your lips, and needs a distraction, needs his eyes closed so his mind can stop thinking so much.
When Johnny is situated between your legs again, lips back on yours, you’re not sure what you want to touch first. His pretty hair? Or maybe you want to cup his perfect, angular face? Or scratch at his back? You bet he has a gorgeous back, if his front is anything to go by.
Wow, maybe you should touch his chest- or his abs-
Johnny pushes his jeans down and all your thoughts are forgotten, mind narrowing in on one thing and one thing only.
Your eyes are closed, his tongue still clashing against yours, but you can feel how large he is. Can feel when his cock slips against your wet entrance, his girth obvious as it slides between your folds.
Then you’re pushing your hand between your bodies, grabbing his cock, and lining him up with you.
“Fuck me,” you growl against his mouth, locking your legs behind his waist in an effort to get him to just push it in-
Johnny chuckles at the way you’re trying to use your legs.
You’re so cute thinking he’s not about to decimate you.
As if you need to ask.
Johnny has patience, but now that his cock is out? It’s go time for the six foot frat boy.
He slams into you fully, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth, and your finger nails dig into his shoulders while you gasp into his mouth.
Johnny isn’t kissing you anymore, although your lips are close- instead, you’re looking into each other's eyes. You can feel his breath against your face, and each thrust makes him pant a little, your own squeaks and whimpers greeting his.
“Fuck,” Johnny groans when you hike your leg higher on his hip, causing him to slide deeper, “you’re so fucking tight-”
“You’re just huge,” you tell him, smashing your lips to his again.
You love the way he takes your breath away. You love the bickering. You love the growls leaving his throat as his hips repeatedly slam into yours, cock head hitting deep spots that have your toes curling.
Johnny is holding himself up with his arms on either side of you, and he pushes himself up enough to be able to move one hand down to your clit.
His fingers light sparks that go shooting through your body from your pussy outwards, and a sinful whine leaves your lips in response. You pull at Johnny’s hair to earn a groan, and although a rumble does leave his chest, your motion has mostly just spurred him to rub your clit harder.
Why is it that every time you try to mess with him and make him desperate for you, he flips the tables and turns you into the melt?
“Going to make you cum like this,” Johnny tells you, tearing his lips from yours only to move to your neck, marking your skin in love bites and kisses between his words, “And then I’ll make you cum just from my cock.”
“Promise?” you ask, pulling him away from your neck so you can look at his eyes.
The sincerity in your expression brings back the warm feeling in his chest.
“Promise” he confirms, sealing it with a kiss.
Johnny’s motions on your clit have become too much for you to bear when combined with the brutal pace of his hips. Your whines get louder and higher, pussy clamping down on Johnny when you cum.
Johnny kisses you to eat up your moans, and he also has to distract himself from the way your warm walls are fluttering around him, the way you’re grabbing him so tightly he thinks you might never let go- he teeters on the edge and is honestly shocked that he doesn’t fall over with you, he’s too determined to make you cum one final time-
Like he’d promised.
When you come down from your high, Johnny allows his pace to go slower. He kisses your cheek, and for the first time, he doesn’t have a snappy one liner to throw at you.
Well, that’s a lie.
He could say ‘ready for one more kitten?’, or maybe ‘bet you fucking loved that’, but one promise has made the entire mood change, and now, Johnny wants to make sure you feel good- he doesn’t want to degrade you anymore, he’s sure there will be time for bickering later-
Later.
You’ll have to stay the night, he decides, as he looks at the way your hair spreads across his pillows-
You open your eyes and Johnny looks back at you, hand coming up to pet your face, waiting for you to say something.
You take a deep breath and smile like the cheshire cat as you wrap your arms tighter around Johnny’s shoulders, pulling him to your lips again. “Okay, now give me the next one.”
The next one.
The next orgasm he’s promised you.
Johnny laughs against your mouth, shaking his head a little even as he adjusts, “flip over-”
“No,” you hold him tighter, “like this… doggy me later.” You press a quick kiss to his lips, batting your eyelashes at him.
Johnny is so whipped for you- of course he folds to your wants immediately. Doggy be damned.
This whole time he’s been thrusting slowly, and now his pace begins to quicken again. He’s had his break, and he’s ready to work you up, ready to once again earn your moans and eat up your pretty sounds.
You cup his face, falling deep into these natural motions, lips moving against Johnny’s. There’s no need for words anymore. The tension is gone, now, all that’s left is the lust and passion.
Johnny groans when you move your leg up his hip again. His own hand slips down to grab at your thigh, fingers digging into your flesh.
His sounds turn you on more than anything you’ve ever heard before, low and deep, coming from his chest, vibrating through you at this close proximity.
“Cum for me,” you whisper when you move your lips to Johnny’s neck, tangling your fingers in his hair to force him to give you access. You know he’s marked your own skin at least once tonight, and now you get to return the favour.
Johnny groans at your dirty words, loving the way they sound coming from you.
And the way you’re sucking on his neck- how the fuck did you find a spot that feels so good-
Damn. Johnny’s not usually the type to accept hickeys, but hell, he’d let you do anything you want to him if you throw in a cute ‘please’ when asking.
“You cum first,” he groans out, eyes shutting as he enjoys the feeling of his high approaching.
“Then choke me.”
He should just ask you to marry him.
It’s that simple.
He should just slip out of you, drop onto his knees on the floor next to the bed and beg you.
His fingers wraps around your throat and your eyes meet, his hand pushing you into the pillows.
There’s something about your eyes, Johnny gets lost in them. He loves the way your hands come up to grab at his forearm, urging him to press tighter on your windpipe as his hips match the rough change of events.
You bite your lip to add even more stimulus as Johnny works you towards yet another orgasm. Your body feels like it’s on fire, this is the most buzzed you’ve been in- well, forever.
Johnny knows when you’re about to cum, your whimpers reaching a crescendo that he puts a stop to by crashing his lips to yours. When you cum, you both cum while kissing. He doesn’t want his hand around your throat right now, instead, it goes to your face.
Your arms are wrapped around the back of his neck to keep him pressed to you too, as if both of you want some hold on the other incase one of you tries to pull away, without realizing that neither of you are going anywhere.
His hips are a steady force that prolong both of your orgasms.
When you’re both finished, and he stops thrusting, he stays inside of you for a while. You continue to kiss, and despite being tired from your orgasms, just being in Johnny’s arms makes you want to explode-
Johnny pulls away from you and you let out a whine, brows furrowing, pouting, making Johnny laugh.
“Let me put on some pants or I’ll have to fuck you again,” he warns you.
“Would that be the worst thing in the world?” you ask, tempted to maybe just say fuck it and tell him to get back to the bed-
“Far from it,” Johnny says, pulling on a cozy looking pair of sweatpants. Then he tosses a shirt at you, “it would be the best thing, but” he collapses onto the bed next to you, “what if we watch a movie, and when it’s done, I’ll make you cum any way you want me to, as many times as you want.”
He watches you slip his shirt on, enjoying the way it looks on you. You’re officially his, he’s caught you and got you in a shirt, and he couldn’t be happier about it. Okay, officially is not the right word, but, come on, Johnny’s never had a girl walk away from him before- you won’t be the first.
You look at Johnny and his gorgeous back, exposed as he lays on his stomach on the bed.
Wow, he got a sappy romance historical drama Jane Austen movie to play in the empty movie theatre for your date, took you home, made you cum four times, and now he’s also offering Netflix and more sex.
He’s whipped for you. A big puppy boy.
You could get used to this.
“Sounds good to me,” you say, watching Johnny sit up and grab a laptop from next to the bed.
Then he’s next to you, shoulder to shoulder.
“And you’re staying the night,” the frat boy tells you, wrapping his arm around you to pull you tightly to his side.
“I am?” you ask.
“Yes.”
“Well… you do know that if I don’t call Haechan or Mark, one of them might storm in here-”
“Haechan.” Johnny sits up suddenly, remembering that he does, in fact, have a roommate.
Johnny had bribed Haechan with a hundred dollars to give him the room for after your date, but, it’s been a while- “now that you mention it, someone definitely should have banged on that door with how loud you were being.”
“Me being loud?!” you shove at his chest. “Screw you, next time I’ll be quiet-”
“Liar, your sounds are cute. I just mean usually whenever someone has a girl over, the guys will go give them a hard time if they’re too loud-”
Loud.
Noise.
A frat house.
Four of your best friends living here- you really hadn’t even thought much about Doyoung, Taeyong, Mark or Haechan when you’d arrived.
You’d been too wound up by being near Johnny, who seems to have this effect on you-
You both reach for your phones to check if you have messages from anyone-
Of course you have about 100+ missed calls/messages on multiple chats.
Your eyes go to your PHILOSOPHY chat, which includes your four frat friends. Haechan has changed the group name multiple times, but Doyoung (ever the literalist), always brings it back to what your chat was created for and renames it back to it’s original.
Haechan: check your phone
Haechan: check your phone
Haechan: check your phone
Doie: jesus, who are you even TALKING TO?!?!?
Haechan: the one of us getting laid right now who do you THINK?
MORK: someones getting LAID?
Haechan: Y/N is you stupid
Haechan: with JOHNNY
Haechan: HE PAID ME TO NOT GO TO THE ROOM FOR A WHILE AND THEY’VE BEEN IN THERE FOR HOURS
Haechan: where the fuck are you three anyways, why is the frat so empty right now?
Doie: we’re at the basketball game Haechan. We told you we’d be here.
Taeyongie: Jae just scored
Doie: he got a hoop*
Taeyongie: he scored
Doie: he got a hoop*!!!!
Taeyongie: just come to the game Haechan
Haechan: fine, but once they’re done being NASTIES, i have to SLEEP IN THAT ROOM!
Doie: sucks to be you
⇢ Synopsis : a movie theater date with your boyfriend doesn’t go according to.. well, normal.
⇢ Warnings (18+) : exhibitionism, hand jobs, oral (m receiving), public sex, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, mirror fucking, degradation, praise, mentions of daddy kink, etc...
⇢ Word Count: 500 words
⇢ access the full 2.4k exstension through patreon
When Johnny invites you to a movie on Wednesday, you don’t think too much of it. In the near year you’ve been dating, you’ve gone to many movies, and today will be no different-
Or so you think.
The film starts off like any other would; the theatre is mostly empty, and you get some of the best seats in the house.
It’s about ten minutes into the movie that Johnny’s hand finds your bare thigh.
This isn’t out of the ordinary at all, and you’d worn a skirt to give your boyfriend access to you- on days you’ve worn jeans to movie dates, he’s simply made do, and you’ve learned not to bother putting much in the way of his greedy fingers-
Besides, you’re already aching for him, having known his fingers would be coming at any minute- and you can’t wait to cum too.
But today, Johnny doesn’t immediately push your panties to the side to burry two large fingers deep in your core- instead, he rubs at the fabric covering your slit, relaxing back in his chair almost lazily, with his eyes fixed to the screen.
Every time he swirls his fingers up around your clit, you want to moan loudly, and after a solid two minutes of waiting for Johnny to just do something, you take matters into your own hands, literally.
Grasping at Johnny’s wrist allows you to keep him exactly where you want him, and you grind down, stifling a gasp at how good actual pressure feels-
Your boyfriend tears his hand away from you with a click of his tongue, and you turn your glare to him, hating the way he continues to stare straight ahead, ignoring you.
“Johnny-”
Now it’s your turn to grab onto his thigh-
The fratboy finally looks at you, jaw set like a challenge, his powerful stare making your heart lurch even in the darkness of the theatre.
Taking a breath, you square your shoulders, a defiant expression forming on your face. You’ve always been a brat, and you’re not going to start being a ‘good little sub’ today, especially without any promises of-
“Make it through the movie for me like a good girl, and I’ll reward you,” Johnny says lowly, and part of your brattiness subsides, if even for a moment, at the notion of reward-
But you want him now!
You move your hand higher on his thigh, breaking into a grin when you find his cock already pressing against the denim of his jeans.
Your boyfriend lets a hiss of air out through his teeth when you adjust your grip on his length, clawing at the fabric of his pants in an attempt to get better leverage-
Then Johnny shifts, a hand latching firmly around your wrist.
Usually when you’re in public, you’re the recipient of his exhibitionist tastes, and not the other way around.
“If you’re going to do that type of shit here,” he warns lowly, “you’ll have to be on your knees.”
⇢ To read the full 2.4k extension: Subscribe - then - click here
⇢ or read other parts of this series here
PATREON I Kofi I Paypal I Tumblr Masterlist
© smileysuh — all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any fic, reaction, or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.
#johnny suh#johnny suh smut#johnny suh x reader#nct#nct 127#nct johnny#johnny nct#johnny nct smut#nct johnny smut#smut#kpop#nct smut#nct x reader#suh younghoe#johnny seo#johnny seo smut#suh younghoe smut#frat au#frat nct#frat johnny suh#frat johnny suh smut#dom johnny suh#mean johnny suh#fanfic by smileysuh#1k#2k#3k#4k#5k#6k
7K notes
·
View notes
Text
History Repeats Itself- B. Boeser
a/n: This somehow ended up being around 11k words, so I hope y’all enjoy it! Also, I only did a quick scan for grammar and spelling so sorry if there are errors!
summary: You and Brock met once back in college when you were still committed to your high school boyfriend. Years later you’re single and older and just starting a new job in Vancouver. The only question now is whether or not you will take the opportunity to rewrite your own history.
warnings: None that I can think of
“So, are you in or no?” Y/N’s roommate asks her as they walk out of the library and toward their dorm.
“I don’t think so Mags, I actually have some studying to catch up on.” You reply unconvincingly. Midterms of your first semester at the University of North Dakota just came to a close, and your excuse of having homework on a Friday night wasn’t convincing anyone.
“Y/N, seriously? You aced all of your midterms and we just spent three hours in the fucking library! Live a little! The hockey team is having a huge party, and the guys are really fun AND super hot! You deserve this!” Maggie tries to convince you to come out to a party that the UND Hockey team is having tonight, and you tell yourself not to give in.
“Maggie, I have a boyfriend. And you know they don’t let guys who aren’t on the team into their parties. God, it’s basically a frat.” You scoff at the idea of a frat party, but there’s still a small part of you that wants to experience the chaos of a real college party. That’s probably why it ends up being so easy for Maggie to convince you to slip into a pair of skinny jeans and a cute top before embarking on a night out.
“Y/N, this is Nick and Brock. They’re both in my econ class. Nick is a sophomore, but Brock here is a freshman like us!” Maggie happily introduces you to the two tall boys as you enter an old musty house, full to the brim with college kids. The air smells like stale alcohol and you take note that your shoes are somehow already sticky. You’re not sure if it’s from something you stepped in or if it’s just the floor in general.
“Hey, nice to meet you.” You shake Brock’s hand that he’s extended for you and you can’t help but stare a little too long, taking in his blonde hair and ocean-blue eyes.
You had to admit though, Katie was right, these guys are super hot. You can already tell your roommate has her eye on this Nick guy, and it actually looks like he might be interested in her too. He’s just her type— He’s hot and he knows it, and his dark hair and striking features draw the eyes of nearly every girl in the room. The blonde boy who stands across from you is quite honestly the opposite of Nick. Brock is also undeniably good-looking, but he’s shy and his light hair and soft smile make him seem less intimidating than his friend.
Nick finds you and Katie some drinks and some other girls you’ve become friends with show up to the party a little later. The boys come and go as they mingle with other people and their teammates, but Nick tends to stay close by to Maggie and you catch glimpses of Brock occasionally. Apparently his shyness doesn’t apply to his teammates. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch him and his friends dance together to some shitty remix of a song you used to blast on your way to school. You’re actually having a great time, but you can’t hear your phone ringing over the music that’s blaring through the house you’re in. Later, Nick offers to walk you and Maggie home after a few hours of living like a real college kid, and Brock ends up tagging along since he apparently lives in the same building.
“So, how come we haven’t met you before tonight? This one talks about you all the time.” The four of you are walking across campus and Nick has Maggie under his arm as he asks why you never seem to be with your roommate.
“She has a boyfriend. And I’m pretty sure he’s allergic to having fun.” Maggie quips as some of the alcohol she’s consumed tonight gives her the courage to openly criticize your relationship.
“Maggie.” You say in a warning tone. “He’s just not a big partier, and usually I’m not either.” You shove at her shoulder lightly. Maggie was nice and you liked being her roommate, but when you first met and told her you had followed your high school boyfriend across the country to attend a university in “North fucking Dakota” she immediately expressed how crazy she thought you were. In her eyes there was no way that a couple who started dating when they were fifteen would last forever. You disagreed, which is why you turned down your scholarship to an ivy league and followed your boyfriend to North Fucking Dakota. His family was from North Dakota, and for some reason everyone in their family had to go to school there too. At the time, you didn’t see it as giving something up, you saw it as you and your boyfriend starting a life together outside the confines of your hometown.
“So, what floor do you live on, Brock?” Maggie asks as the four of you make your way up to your building.
“I’m on 4— Room 405. What about you guys?” Brock asks back.
“We’re 219.” You say back before you’re startled as you hear another voice you’re not exactly expecting.
“Y/N! Where the hell have you been?” The group you’re with is almost to the doors of your dorm building when a perturbed voice yells for you.
“Uh- Owen. What are you doing here?” You’re surprised to see your boyfriend standing in front of you, looking like he’s seeing red. You weren’t even supposed to be seeing him at all tonight. He had told you he was going to be occupied for the evening while he was studying for his physics exam. You hadn’t told him you were going to the party, but at the time you didn’t think it was important. Owen preferred that you didn’t bother him while he was studying, so you decided against calling him before your night out.
“I’ve been calling you for like two hours— God have you been drinking?” The rest of the group you were with tonight looks uncomfortable to say the least, and you can’t blame them. Owen wasn’t the best at saving face, especially when he felt like someone hadn’t upheld the standards that he had set out for them. Now he just looked like a dad reprimanding their child, and a wave of embarrassment quickly washed over you.
“I just- We went to a party. I didn’t think you’d mind. You were supposed to be studying all night,” You say sheepishly, as you begin to regret letting Maggie convince you to go out. Before Owen can clap back again, Maggie nudges you and tells you that the three of them are going to go, not wanting to invade on your private life any longer.
When they’re gone, Owen starts again, “This just isn’t like you. I’m so disappointed.” You feel bad now, you know you haven’t done anything wrong, but Owen’s words make you feel like you have, so you tuck your tail between your legs as follow him back to his dorm and apologize for what you did.
That was almost five years ago. You dated Owen for longer than you’d like to admit but eventually you removed your rose-colored glasses and broke up with him. You graduated from UND and got a second chance at your Ivy League dreams when went to graduate school. Now, you’ve completed your masters and have been offered a promotion at you job. The only catch was that the new position required you to move to the west coast… of Canada.
You moved almost two months ago, and your raise was enough to allow you to move into a nice building downtown. Work takes up most of your time now, so you haven’t been able to explore the city as much as you would like, but you can already tell your decision to make Vancouver your new home was a good one. The laid back and easy feeling you get from this city is completely different from the big east coast metropolis you had been living in before, and even though you’re working more than ever, you feel like you can actually breathe here.
Since your breakup with Owen your senior year at UND, you’ve taken time to take back your life. You try your best not to ponder on the past anymore, and you focus on your own future. It can’t be denied that at first it was hard not to remain bitter at the idea that you had so willingly given up many things in your life, for a boy who took them too eagerly. You worked through it though and took back your life by focusing on your own goals and working on furthering your own career. The past is the past now, and you were ready to start this new life in Vancouver.
*
“I actually can’t believe you’re wearing that.” Elias mocks at Brock as they step out of the elevator and into the lobby of Brock’s apartment building. Brock is sporting a bucket hat, and even though he knows Elias is joking, he wonders if he shouldn’t have just left the hat sitting on his kitchen counter. The two of them are bickering back and forth about their fashion choices, and Brock almost misses you as you walk past him. Almost. He recognizes you immediately even though your hair is longer, and your face doesn’t look so much like a kid’s anymore.
“Hey, nice to meet you.” Brock extends his hand, hoping he doesn’t seem too nervous to the pretty girl he has just been introduced to. He’s a freshman, and a star on the UND hockey team, which kind of makes him North Dakotan royalty. Since starting college, he’s learned what to say and how to say it, to get a girl’s attention, but he’s not the overly confident guy that his friend, Nick is. Nick lays it on thick and loves the attention he gets. Brock likes it, it’s fun, but he’s more laid back, and not as worried about getting the girl. He just likes to have a good time with his friends and doesn’t really need all of the extra attention.
He would however like to have your attention. He makes some friendly conversation with you over the course of the night, but you stick close to your girlfriends, and he can’t tell if you’re not interested or if you just aren’t catching what he’s putting down.
Later that night, when Nick tells Brock that he is going to walk you and your roommate home, he’s quick to tag along. Even though he lives in the same building, he probably would have stayed at the party a little longer if you hadn’t been going with them. On the walk across campus, the four of you make some small talk, and Brock knows that Nick definitely thinks he’s getting laid tonight.
Brock can’t help but hope that Nick getting laid will mean you will need a hideout for a couple hours while your roommate occupies your shared room. Even though he’d happily accept it, he doesn’t think he’ll be getting laid. Brock just hopes that he’ll have some time to get to know you a little bit better, maybe get your number, and then eventually ask you out. It’s right then that Nick asks why they’ve never met you.
“She has a boyfriend. And I’m pretty sure he’s allergic to having fun.” Maggie replies, and Brock can’t help but be disappointed. You had a boyfriend. So it wasn’t that you weren’t interested, well it was, but it was only because you were already taken. Maybe you had even caught on to his light flirting, and he can’t help but think how embarrassing that is.
This embarrassment honestly wasn’t as bad as what was to come next. Brock isn’t sure if his secondhand embarrassment is worse than the embarrassment that you’re probably feeling as the guy, who is presumably your boyfriend, yells at you for going to a party. He can tell that you’re trying to play it cool, you’re definitely uncomfortable with scene that is unfolding. Brock isn’t sure what to do, and him and Nick exchange a few quick glances as to say, “what the fuck?” And next, he’s incredibly thankful that Maggie steps in to tell you that they’re going to head into the building.
“What the fuck was that?” Nick asks as the three of them get out of earshot from you and Owen.
“Meet Owen, the illustrious high school boyfriend.” Maggie’s sarcasm is clear, and Brock is surprised that someone who seems so sweet could be dating a guy like that.
That hockey party his first semester at UND was the last time Brock spoke to you. He left after his sophomore year when he signed with the Canucks and before he left, when he would see you on campus, you were usually with the jerk he only briefly encountered that first night. When you would pass him in the hallway of your dorm or even around campus you would usually avoid meeting his eye or offer one of those awkward tight-lipped smiles. Brock would always smile back, and he would wonder if you were actually happy with that guy, and occasionally he would tell himself that he could make you happier.
You felt bad as you essentially avoided him for the first few weeks after that party, but it got easier as time went on. The two of you barely knew each other, but for some reason every time that you did pass him, you were still enamored by his kind eyes and generous smile that only made you feel worse for avoiding him. Over time your friends, like Maggie, would eventually fall to the waste side too as your boyfriend continued to control your life. Maggie stopped asking you to hang out and when you moved in with Owen after your freshman year, you basically lost all connection with her. Everyone probably thought that you were a massive bitch because they perceived your actions as you choosing your boyfriend over them. They weren’t wrong, but you didn’t know at the time, that your priorities were extremely misguided.
Brock’s little crush was soon forgotten when he dove headfirst into the NHL. He was busy trying to establish himself in the league, and he found himself in a few lackluster relationships that usually ended in a mutual agreement that it just wasn’t working. He was a good guy, and even though he wasn’t a saint, he preferred to get to know a girl and take her to dinner before anything else. The girls he dated usually fell pretty hard for him. He’s unmistakably attractive and his endearing personality make him incredibly charming. They knew that they couldn’t hold on to him forever and that he didn’t want to hurt them, so they let him go and hoped that they would find another guy that was half as good.
Seeing you now is like a breath of fresh air for Brock; his little crush immediately rising to the surface after being buried away for so long.
“Y/N?” Brock lightly touches you on your arm to get your attention. You’re lost in the email you’re replying to on your phone, and you’re more than surprised when you turn to see the same light blue eyes that you met your freshman year of college.
“Brock?” It’s the only thing that your brain can formulate right now. Brock Boeser is probably the only person you know in Vancouver and yet he’s standing in front of you right now. You haven’t seen or spoken to him in years, and you can’t believe that he even remembers you.
“Hey, I thought that was you.” Brock says, as Elias notices the big smile that’s plastered across his friend’s face. “What are you doing in Vancouver?” Brock asks, wondering how a girl from the east coast who went to school in North Dakota, somehow ended up in Vancouver.
“I um- I live here. I just moved for my job a couple months ago,” You tell him.
“Oh, no way! Vancouver’s great, I’m sure you’ll love it here.” He replies, still taking in the fact that you’re standing in front of him.
“Yeah, I like it so far,” you say. “Do you live here? – Or I guess, in the building?” You ask. You know that he lives in Vancouver, you’re aware of his hockey career, but you’ve lived here for a couple months and have never seen him around.
“Yeah, I’ve been back in Minnesota for most of the summer, so I just got back a couple days ago.” He tells you. You never really put much thought into where athletes go after their season ends, but it makes sense that they would go back to wherever they call home.
Elias nudges Brock to remind him that he’s still standing awkwardly beside him. “Oh, this is Petey,” Brock turns to introduce you to his friend that you already recognize, “It’s Elias, nice to meet you.” Elias says as he offers his hand to you.
“Yeah, I know.” You let out a light laugh and think about all of the Vancouver Canucks posters you’ve seen him on throughout the city. You’ve seen posters of Brock too, but you barely even know the guy, so it’s never really struck you as anything out of the ordinary.
“Are you a Canucks fan?” Elias asks.
You laugh a little, “Oh, no. I don’t follow hockey or really any sports, but everyone at work does, so I’ve been trying to learn a bit about it to keep up with the water cooler conversations.” You laugh again because it’s true. You’ve never really been tuned into sports, but your new office is basically all men, and they’re all huge Canucks fans, so your google searches of the team’s stats and roster have helped you become familiar with the team before their season starts.
“Well, you’ll have to come to a game some time.” Brock tells you.
“Um yeah. Maybe.” You offer back, mentally debating on if that would ever actually happen, but knowing that he’s only being polite. “I um- I’ve actually got to go, but it was great running into you.” You smile, and say goodbye to the two blonde boys and make your way up to your apartment.
Brock Boeser lives in your building. Again. You laugh, thinking about how funny it is that history is repeating itself. He’s just as cute as he was the first time you met, but the truth is you barely know each other, and you’re sure he remembers that you were probably a massive bitch in college who avoided him at all costs. You don’t let the thought of him linger too long and push it to the side to get on the realities of your life instead of continuing to mull over the past.
*
Over the next month or so, you continue to run into Brock in the elevator or in the lobby of your building. He always says hi and greets you with the same sweet smile. You make polite conversation and he’s so charming sometimes that it makes you blush. It starts off with awkward hellos and goodbyes, then you start to make small talk, and soon enough conversation between the two of you becomes pretty effortless. His little jokes are usually so dumb, but they make you laugh and you truly appreciate that he’s always so nice. You start to open up a bit more and aren’t as hesitant when he asks you innocent questions about your life.
You got to meet Coolie and Milo the other day, and Brock says that they are particularly fond of you. They both seem to be the sweetest dogs in the world, so you’re sure they’re just as good for everyone else. You see them ever so often when Brock takes them on walks around town, and he loves the way your eyes light up when you see his furry kids.
Brock usually asks you how work is going, even though your advanced corporate job goes way over his head, and you ask him about hockey, which you also have little to no knowledge of. You both usually give short and uninteresting answers like “great” or “it’s going.” Then, just as Brock is trying to find more ways to get to know you, you tell him that you’ve been trying to educate yourself more on hockey. You explain that you primarily work with men, and these men happen to be very keyed in on the sport and particularly on the Vancouver Canucks. Now, every time he sees you, he asks you what you’ve learned.
Your conversations are still fairly short, but you tell him when you’ve finally learned all of the NHL team names, and understand each of the hockey positions. You explain some of the penalties and you’re pretty proud of yourself when your explanation of offsides gets an approval. When he asks you who you’ve decided your favorite player is, you tell him you like “that Boeser kid,” but not as much as you like Elias Pettersson. This gets a big laugh from him, and he tells you he doesn’t disagree with your analysis. This is a turning point for the two of you. Brock can tell that you’re becoming more comfortable with him, and he likes seeing this lighter side of you.
One day when you pass him in the parking lot, he’s on his way to a game, dressed in suit, but with a beanie on his head. You’ve seen him like this a number of times before, and you really don’t understand why he insists on covering up his beautiful hair with various hats. You also don’t mind admiring how good he looks in his game day apparel. He’s good looking, and it’s not a crime to admire that.
As you walk toward each other in the parking lot he calls out to you, “Hey, you learn anything new this week?” You laugh, because he usually starts the conversation like this, asking if you’ve studied up or done your homework.
“Actually, I have a question for you.” You tell him as you come up, stopping before you would pass each other.
“Okay, shoot.” He says.
“Well, that’s actually your job, but my question has to do with goalie interference. I just don’t really understand it. I was trying to find videos of calls during games, but all of the calls seem kind of inconsistent.” You tell him, and he laughs at your shooting joke, leaving you feeling proud for a moment. He’s also laughing because you’re right. No one fucking knows what goalie interference is.
“Yeah, I’m not even sure what goalie interference is half the time. But if you figure it out let me know!” He answers. You laugh, and the two of you begin to part ways.
Before he makes it to his car you shout back, “Oh, Good luck tonight!”
He smiles and thanks you before opening his car door and on his way to the rink he thinks about all of the little conversations the two of you have had over the course of last couple of months. His crush has only continued to grow, and Elias keeps nagging him to ask you out, but he’s not even sure if you’re single. With his luck, you’re probably married to that asshole from college, although he hasn’t noticed you with anyone and he hasn’t seen a ring on your finger.
After that night Brock decided he needed to figure out if you were single or not, so that he could move on from his infatuation with you instead of wasting his time pining over a girl who was already taken. You’re always polite, and more recently you’ve become more and more comfortable joking and bantering with him, but sometimes you give him a look like you’re not sure what to say.
That look is the look you get when you contemplate how you got here. Years ago, you couldn’t have fathomed having a simple conversation with Brock, but now you see him on a regular basis and make conversation like you’ve been friends for years. You appreciate his willingness to talk with you, and you enjoy your interactions more and more every day.
Brock knows that on Sunday morning you usually go for a walk down to the coffee shop on the corner, so today he grabs Coolie and Milo and heads for the door, hoping he’ll be lucky enough to run into you. He makes it all the way to the coffee shop without seeing you and he’s praying that when he opens the door to the store that you’ll be waiting inside.
No such luck.
When he doesn’t see you standing inside, he decides he should at least buy a coffee instead of awkwardly walking out. After he picks up his drink he walks across the street to the park so that Coolie and Milo can get some exercise. For some reason, the gods are on his side today, and a few minutes into his walk he sees you sitting on a bench under a tree, reading a book.
He doesn’t get to secretly admire how pretty you look sitting there, with the sun streaming down through the limbs of the trees, because Milo and Coolie have spotted you and are actively dragging him in your direction. You’re stirred from your reading and when you look up you see two big fur balls running toward you, their owner not far behind them.
“Hey! Sorry about them.” Brock apologizes as he tries to calm the dogs down. You’re laughing and smiling because Coolie has jumped up on the bench beside you. Brock tells them to get down as they continue to try and jump for your attention, and they eventually settle at his side.
“It’s fine, I don’t mind at all. I feel the same way when I see them,” you say, and it gets a light chuckle from Brock. He loves that you get so excited to see them and he cherishes the way your eyes light up when you reach down to pet them. He’s not sure what to say now, and before the silence gets too awkward you ask him if he wants to sit while motioning to the spot next to you. He gladly accepts your offer, and he sits down next to you.
“What are you reading?” He asks, attempting to facilitate some conversation.
You turn over the book in your hand so that he can see the cover, “It’s called Normal People.” You say before giving him a brief description. You also tell him it’s a series on Hulu and he says he’ll opt to watch that instead of reading the book, earning another laugh from you.
“So, did you leave the boyfriend behind or did you bring him with you?” He asks referring to some of the plot points of the book you had described to him. The question surprises you because one, there wasn’t a boyfriend, and two, why would Brock think there was a boyfriend? Your mind works fast enough to figure he might think that you’re still with Owen, but over the last couple months you don’t think you’ve given him any reason to think you would still be with him.
“Neither I guess. I didn’t have a boyfriend to leave or bring.” You answer, looking over at Brock. You’re sure you almost hear what sounds like a sigh of relief from him, but it happened too quickly to tell.
“I guess you and that guy from college didn’t work out?” Brock asks cautiously. He’s trying not to seem too eager, but he’s dying to know what ever happened between you and that jerk.
You let out a light laugh as you think back to your previous relationship, “No, it definitely didn’t work out.” You say back. “We were obviously super young; we started dating when we were fifteen,” you sigh. “Anyway, I think it just took some time to realize I wasn’t going to marry a guy I thought was cute in my 9th grade biology class. We just didn’t have anything in common anymore. And he turned out to be a total jerk.” It feels surprisingly easy talking to Brock about this. You’ve felt so much shame and embarrassment for staying with this guy from high school for so long, but Brock’s eyes don’t convey any judgement or reason to feel ashamed.
After that you gracefully shift the conversation to Brock’s love life. It was only fair, and when you asked him if he had a special lady- or man in his life, his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. It isn’t because you asked him if he was perhaps seeing a man, but because he was just so flustered by you and your questioning of his love life at all.
“Nope. No ladies... Or men for that matter.” He says with a little laugh.
“Really? A star hockey player like you doesn’t have girls lined up waiting for their chance to be with you?” You tease, as you can see, he’s still blushing a bit. You don’t think much of it, other than that he’s probably just shy about those things, but you don’t really feel too bad about teasing him. He continues to convince you that there aren’t any other ladies in his life, and eventually the topic of conversation is forgotten.
Brock walks back to the apartment building with you, and when you get in the elevator you remember that you’re going to be attending a Canucks game next week, “I almost forgot! I’m going to the Preds game next week!” You tell him, and his expression lights up hearing you say that you’ll be attending one of his games. “Some of the guys from work invited me to go with them. I think I’ve really won them over with my new hockey knowledge,” You tell him proudly.
Some of the guys from work who are particularly invested in the hockey team invited you to come with them to a game, and you happily accepted the invitation. You had proven yourself to them as a colleague and now as a hockey fan too.
“I guess we’ll have to get a win for you guys.” Brock replies confidently. The Canucks have had a great record lately and it looks like their winning streak is just getting started. “You better!” You say before the elevator stops on your floor and you tell him you’ll see him later, leaving Brock to think about everything he’s learned about you that morning.
*
It’s Thursday, and this week has been hell.
Sadly, you’re used to dedicating most of your time to work, but this week has been a total shit show, for lack of better words. A big account you’ve been working on decided at the last minute that they wanted something completely different, causing you and your team to have to work some crazy hours this week. By Thursday you’re practically a zombie due to your lack of sleep. The hours you have spent at home have been minimal, as you’ve gotten home past ten almost every night this week, and you leave in the morning again before 7.
The guys on your team have all been working crazy hours too, but you’ve been taking the lead on this campaign, so you’ve made sure to be there early and late every single day. They can tell you’re just about out of gas, and they send you home early, telling you to rest up for the big presentation tomorrow. You try to argue, but they’re right, you need a break. You surrender and head home after stopping to get some takeout, knowing that your fridge at home is starkly empty.
“Ms.Y/L/N, I’ve got a package for you.” Paul, the concierge of your building tells you as you pass him on your way to the elevators. You haven’t made any online purchases as of late, and you don’t remember anyone telling you they were sending you anything. Still, you wait patiently as he goes to the back room to grab it. When Paul returns he’s holding a decent sized shopping bag. You’re not sure what it could be, but you take the bag and thank him, too focused on getting up to your apartment and out of your work pants.
As soon as the door to your apartment is closed behind you, you drop your bags onto the kitchen counter and slip out of your dress pants. Your bra follows shortly, and you settle into your couch with your take out. The rest of your evening is spent lounging on the couch, catching up on your shitty reality tv shows and taking a break from work. When you look down at your phone and see that it’s only 8:30 you tell yourself it’s too early to go to bed, but you’re exhausted and you bed is calling to you. As you gather your dishes and clean up your kitchen you’re reminded of the package you picked up on your way in.
The bag is still sitting on the counter where you left it a few hours ago. You take a minute to think about what it could be or who it could be from, but nothing comes to mind. When you open the bag all you see is some blue fabric. It feels like clothes, so you dump it over on to your counter and come to find that the bag is full of what looks like Vancouver Canucks gear. You’re in surprised to say the least. There are multiple pieces of clothing laying in front of you, and you’re sure it’s at least a few hundred dollars worth of apparel. There’s a note too, but you choose to look through the other contents first.
First off, there’s a navy blue hoodie with the classic Cancuks logo. There are two t-shirts, one has the Canucks throwback logo on it and the other has the pride logo printed on the front. You smile at that, knowing that he obviously knew you would like that one. Next, is a Canucks beanie with a pompom on the top. Finally, you unfold a royal blue jersey. You’re expecting to see a number six on the back but instead your eyes land on the number 40. You can’t help but feel a little sad for a minute, knowing he didn’t get you a jersey with his number on it.
Alas, you unfold the piece of paper that was sitting in the bottom of the bag and it reads:
I figured you might need some gear for the game Saturday. I hope everything fits okay.
If you ever need anything I’m Apt. 859, *his phone number*
-Brock
P.S. Petey insisted that I include his jersey since he’s “your favorite.”
You don’t feel as bad about it not being a Boeser jersey now, and you use a magnet to hang the note up on your fridge before folding your new gear and heading to bed, grinning ear to ear.
Your presentation goes off without a hitch the next day and you and your coworkers are ready to let loose a bit for the Cancuks game the following evening. You meet up with them at a bar that’s not far from the arena, and you grab a round of drinks before you head into the game. The four co-workers you meet up with take note of your Pettersson jersey, and you smile, satisfied with their praises. A couple of them are sporting jerseys too, one with Horvat and the other with a Boeser. You don’t mention that you know the guy who actually wears number 6, and when he scores the game winning goal you cheer just as loud as everyone else, but secretly you’d like to think it was because he knew you were there in the stands.
When you get home after the game you shoot Brock a quick text.
You: nice goal tonight! i think this pettersson jersey is lucky! (10:54pm)
You: this is y/n btw (10:54pm)
You’re not sure if he’ll reply so you set your phone down and start to go through your nightly routine. A few minutes later you hear your phone buzz from your night stand.
Brock: petey didn’t even score tonight and you’re still talking about him? maybe i’ll just take that jersey back (11:01pm)
You: hey, no take backs. but it was a very nice goal! (11:03pm)
Brock: how was your first game? (11:07pm)
You: my second favorite player scored, my team won, and my co-workers were impressed with my vast hockey knowledge so i’d say it went pretty well! (11:13pm)
You spend some time debating on how to word your message, not wanting to send a reply too fast, and not wanting to seem to flirty, but you still let yourself tease him a little bit more before hitting send.
Brock: HAHA. very funny. (11:14pm)
Brock: i’m glad you had a good time. (11:14pm)
Brock: we’ll have to get you to more games. it looks like you might be good luck. (11:15pm)
*
Sunday morning is your time to relax. You try not to do any work and opt to take some time for yourself. This can take many forms, like lounging around the house or even reorganizing your bathroom. Today you opt for baking. You bake a couple dozen brownies and place them in a container before slipping on some shoes to head up a few floors.
You hadn’t given it much thought until you were standing outside of his apartment door, but the two really only interact in the hallways or elevator and you’ve never been to each other’s apartments. The brownies in your hand are probably getting colder by the minute, and you know they taste the best when they’re still warm so you convince yourself to bring your knuckles to the door.
The person who answers the door isn’t Brock. The boy who answers is shorter and has dark hair. You recognize him as Quinn Hughes. Brock told you once that they call him huggy bear, but you’re not totally sure you know why.
“Uh-“ There aren’t words coming out of his mouth, it’s more like an awkward sound that you think it is meant to convey some sort of confusion.
“Um, Is Brock here?” You ask, offering a smile to the boy in front of you.
“Oh, yeah. Um, come on in.” Quinn doesn’t really know if he should be letting someone into his friends apartment, but Brock made him answer the door so he didn’t feel so bad about inviting a stranger in.
You walk through the door and take in Brock’s home. It’s similar to yours, but slightly bigger. He lives on a different side of the building so the windows are slightly different too. You follow Quinn into the living room where you see Elias and Brock and Jake Virtanen sitting on the couch playing video games. The dogs notice you first as you walk in and Quinn nudges Brock telling him someone is here for him before he turns around to see you.
“Y/N! To what do we owe the pleasure?” He asks as he stands from the couch.
“I uh, I just wanted to bring you these. I figured it’s the least I could do since you got me that lucky Pettersson jersey.” He lets out a solid laugh at that. You liked it when he laughed like that. He lets his head hang back and his hand rests on his stomach.
“Well thank you. You really didn’t have to do that.” He says as you hand him the box of brownies. He walks over to the kitchen counter and pulls the lid off. The smell of freshly baked brownies starts to fill the room, and the other boys are at the counter before you know it.
“Oh shit. Those look good.” Jake says as he eyes the baked goods.
The boys are quiet for the next couple minutes except for some humming and “yum” sounds that escape between bites. A couple dozen brownies is apparently no match for four hockey players. You swear half the box vanishes in front of your eyes as they compliment you on your baking abilities. You mentally thank your mom for the perfected family recipe that you practically have memorized. They make friendly conversation, besides Quinn who has remained rather quiet, except for offering a few side comments or sounds of agreement. Eventually Elias asks you more about how your first game hockey game went.
Elias is observant and incredibly well spoken, and he’s making what could have been an awkward situation a very pleasant one. He guides most of the conversation as Brock becomes more comfortable with the dynamic of you being there with his other friends. It’s cute how close Brock and Elias are. Even just standing in the kitchen you can tell the two of them have a bond that’s different than the ones between the other boys. Brock is sometimes shy and blushy when the two of you talk, but with his friends he’s more bold and sure of himself.
The small talk is getting thin, and you’re about to politely end the conversation and tell them you should go when Jake asks how you and Brock know each other. You don’t know why you hesitate, but you do, and you look at Brock who is standing next to you. Before you can decide how to answer Brock replies simply, “We went to UND together back in the day.”
“I guess we don’t really know each other very well, but we had some mutual friends.” You try to add and clarify.
“Oh cool,” Jake replies, not really giving it much thought. “So are you liking the city so far?” he asks.
“I like it a lot , I just haven’t had a lot of free time outside of work to explore. But, my co-workers finally like me since I know all about hockey now, and the one girl in our office is my best and only friend!” You laugh at yourself a bit, because you know it sounds a little sad that you’re a young twenty-something with zero signs of a social life. It earns some laughs from the guys too.
“You should come out with us next weekend, you gotta experience Vancouver’s night life! Plus, we’re celebrating my dog’s birthday!” Jake exclaims, and you can see Elias rolling his eyes and Brock and Quinn are both laughing while shaking their heads.
You look between the boys, a bit confused, “Your what? Your dog’s birthday?”
Jake laughs too when you seem so confused about it, “It seemed like a good excuse to go out. Gotta keep it loose, ya know?” He seems serious about this and you can’t help but laugh. The guys explain that they don’t get out too often during the season, and some of them don’t even like going out, but sometimes it’s good to just let loose with the boys. Jake is one who particularly enjoys a good night out, and so occasionally when the boys haven’t frequented a bar in a while, he comes up with “reasons to celebrate.” Elias sounds like a dad when he says that they all just go along with it to make Jake happy, and Jake looks like a little kid when he rolls his eyes at them. He’s also quick to make the point that they always end up having a good time.
“You obviously don’t have to come, but I think it’ll be fun, and you should bring your friend. Her name’s Jade, right?” You’ve talked to Brock about Jade a couple times in the past, but you didn’t really think he would have listened that intently or that he would remember your co-workers name. It’s nice knowing that he does.
“Yeah, it’s Jade. I guess I could ask her if she’s free and let you know.” You tell him, still contemplating if you even want to go out to some busy club on a Saturday night.
*
“So, uh— What are you doing this weekend?” You ask Jade, your co-worker as you walk into her office. She’s the only other girl in your office, and you’ve become good friends over the last few months. Her dark hair and dark features match her bold and strong personality. Jade constantly bugs you to get out more, especially on the weekends, but you usually curb her requests saying that you’re still getting settled into the new city. This excuse was wearing thin since you’ve been here almost four months now, and you knew you would have to give in to her requests soon. Instead, you’ve opted to invite her to go out with Brock and his friends this weekend. Or rather, pray she would go with you because there was no way you were going alone.
“I don’t know, probably nothing because my friend is a loner who doesn’t ever leave her house.” Jade looks over at you with a knowing expression causing you to roll your eyes.
“Your loner friend actually wanted to ask you if you wanted to go out this weekend.” You say mimicking her cadence. “That guy from college who lives in my building is celebrating his friend’s dog’s birthday, so him and some of their friends are all going out.” When you explain why Brock’s friends are going out you realize again just how ridiculous it sounds, and you know it’s not really why they’re going to a bar to get hammered, but you relay the information anyway.
You told Jade about “the guy from college” that you had run into in your apartment building, but you didn’t tell her that the guy was Brock Boeser. You were sure she knew who he was, even if she wasn’t shy with her discontent with sports. She’s just not a sports person, but anyone in Vancouver would immediately recognize the name of one of their biggest players. All you told her was that you had gone to UND together and that you had never really been friends, just that you had mutual friends.
She never asked more about who he was, but she did ask if he was cute. You couldn’t lie, it would be sinful to do so about a man who was as good looking as Brock, so you told her the truth. You also told her how good of a guy he was and that he never hesitates to start a conversation with you. Since then, she has asked for regular updates on your interactions together. Even though you withheld some crucial information, you still told her about how he liked talking about hockey and that he had gotten you some Canucks gear to wear to the game. When you told her about that she insisted that he liked you, and part of you wanted to believe that, but another part of you knew that you and Brock still barely knew each other.
He seems really sweet, but you can’t help but feel like he still has plenty of girls vying for his attention. Girls who are prettier and smarter and nicer than you. When you think back to those brief interactions with him it still gives you a feeling of anxiety. It’s the kind of anxiety that you get when you remember something embarrassing you did as a kid or when you’re trying to fall asleep and you remember that you said “you too” to the barista who said “come again!” Either way, you weren’t convinced that your limited interactions warranted any feelings on either of your parts, so you continued to try to suppress your growing feelings for him.
Luckily, Jade was happy to oblige your request of going out. She asked if your friend had any cute single friends, and while you weren’t quite sure if they were single, you said yes figuring that one of them had to be.
“Y/N, It’s me!” You hear Jade come in through your apartment door that you had left unlocked for her. It’s Saturday night and you’re getting ready to go out with Brock and his teammates. You still haven’t told Jade who he is, and you’re hoping she doesn’t freak out when she finds out.
“I’m in my closet!” You shout back to Jade as she makes her way through your apartment. She finds you sitting inside your walk-in closet, trying to decide what to wear, “I’m having a crisis. I have no idea what I should wear.” You look over at her precisely curated outfit that’s perfect for a night out. She looks hot and it’s just enough to not be overdone. He hair is flawlessly sleek and her make up looks like an artist painted it on.
“Stop moping. You’re just nervous because he’s cute and you like him. Go make us some drinks and I’ll pick out your outfit.” You don’t put up a fight, knowing that she’ll probably be able to piece together a great ensemble that you never would have thought of. Your strengths were probably better suited for making cocktails anyway, so you go to the kitchen and whip up a couple of drinks.
On your way back to your room you turn on your “going out” playlist that hasn’t been touched in ages, and when the first drop of alcohol touches your tongue you automatically feel less anxious. She’s right, you totally have a crush on this guy, and you’re super nervous about going out with him and his friends. What’s worse, is that this was pretty much a pity invite, and him and his friends feel bad that you don’t know anyone else in the city.
Brock’s night was going somewhat similarly to yours. When Elias got to his apartment for the pregame he found Brock standing in only his boxers with a pile of clothes covering his closet floor. Elias couldn’t help but laugh at him. He hasn’t seen Brock act this way about a girl in a long time. Come to think of it, he’s not even sure if he’s ever seen Brock act like this. Brock was sensitive, but he wasn’t anxious like this. He wouldn’t get tied up in things like what to wear or what to say to a girl. He did however, have the issue of falling way too hard way too fast, ending up in situations where girls left him after they got what they wanted. Over the years he’s learned how to guard his heart a bit better, and his friends, Elias especially, were always there to protect him.
Elias likes you. He liked you the minute he met you. He was intuitive and was a good judge of character, which made him and Brock a good pair. Brock has a tendency to trust a little too much, but now Elias is there to help guide him toward the right people. When Brock introduced you to Elias, he could immediately tell that you were a good person. He could see it in your eyes, and in your genuine appreciation that Brock would recognize and say hello to you. Elias liked that you were sprightly enough to make a joke about knowing who he was. Most of all, he liked how Brock talked about you. Elias immediately recognizes when Brock has had a conversation with you before practice or a game. He comes in with a little pep in his step, that causes some of the guys to question if he got laid the night before, but now Elias recognizes that he must have seen you on his way to work. Brock gushes about your interactions and about how cute you are when you explain the hockey things you learn. The day that you told him Elias was your favorite player Brock was so excited to tell him. He wasn’t even mad, he just loved how light hearted willing to joke around you were.
Brock occasionally thinks back on the times he saw you after that first night at UND. He thinks about what would have happened if your boyfriend hadn’t been waiting for you outside of your dorm. It’s not that he thinks he would have gotten lucky or that you would have cheated on your boyfriend with him, it’s just that maybe if you had had a bit more time to get to know each other you could have at least become friends. And maybe that friendship could have grown into something more and you would have broken up with that asshole to be with him. Brock thinks about what could have been, but he also knows that hindsight is 20/20. He doesn’t consider himself a superstitious guy, but he can’t help but think that you came to Vancouver for a reason.
When your wardrobe crisis has been averted, you’re fully dressed in skinny jeans and a cute top that’s revealing enough but doesn’t exactly come right out and say “I want to have your babies right now.” (That’s how Jade described it, anyway.) The two of you have had a round of drinks and you decide that it’s probably an appropriate time to head up to Brock’s. You didn’t want to get there too early and be the only ones there, so you made Jade wait it out in your apartment until it was at least thirty minutes after the time he had said to come.
Brock texted you letting you know the door was unlocked, and when you get out of the elevator you can already hear music playing from behind his door. “I can already feel it. This is going to be fun!” Jade tells you excitedly as you reach out for the doorknob. You laugh thinking about how she has no idea she’s about to be drinking with a bunch of professional hockey players for the night.
When you open the door you see some of the guys you’ve met mulling about, most of them with drinks in their hands. Brock comes up to you almost immediately. Without even thinking he wraps you in a hug, and it feels so natural even though you’ve never had any sort of physical interaction with him. Your suspicions were right, he gives the best hugs, and you wish that you could stand there in his warm arms forever, but it only lasts a second before he’s pulling away and turning his attention to your friend who looks likes she’s surprised to see Brock Boeser hugging her coworker and Elias Pettersson coming up behind him to say hello.
“Okay, you didn’t tell me that “your friend” was Brock fucking Boeser.” She doesn’t even try to whisper it, and it’s kind of what you love about her. She just expresses herself freely, and it’s honestly so funny when she says it. It has Brock’s head falling back as he lets out a laugh.
Brock and Elias introduce you and Jade to the other guys who are in the apartment. There are a couple girlfriends among them and even though they all look like they just walked out of an instagram ad, they all seem genuinely nice and aren’t nearly as intimidating as you thought they would be. You don’t get too much time to mingle before Jake informs the group that the “birthday party” is ready to move to the bars, followed by packing into various Ubers.
When you’re all at the bar, a few other guys show up, some single and definitely ready to mingle, but to your surprise some have even brought their wives. The drinks are flowing and you’re actually having fun. You notice that Jade and Jake have spent a lot of time talking, and he offers to get her a drink before they head off to the bar. You laugh, and shake your head as she turns back to give you wink before heading off with the hockey player.
You turn your attention back to the guys standing around the table, when one of them asks you, “So, how do you two know each other? I feel like somebody said you went to UND?” It’s Brandon Sutter, you didn’t recognize him when Brock first introduced you, seeing as most of the photos you’ve seen of him include a hockey helmet covering most of his face. It’s probably the alcohol— no, it’s definitely the alcohol that has you responding to his question, “Yeah, we went to UND together, but we didn’t really hang out or anything, I think everyone just thought I was massive bitch.” You laugh, but you can see some confusion setting in on Brock’s expression. Brandon laughs too, not thinking much of what you said.
“What do you mean?” Brock asks. He never thought of you that way back in college. He knew that guy you dated was jerk. He dimmed your light, and that wasn’t your fault.
“I don’t know, I just figured you guys all thought I was kind of a bitch because I just hung out with my boyfriend all the time.” You don’t really know what else to say, thinking back to those days where you would follow Owen around like a lost puppy.
“I don’t think anybody thought that, we just thought your boyfriend was dick.” He says, and before you can say anything else he adds, “No offense. He just didn’t seem like he treated you very well. That night he yelled at you in front of the dorm when he found out you went to our party left a pretty bitter taste in my mouth.”
“Sounds like a dick, to me.” Quinn says matter-of-factly. You’re sure it’s the alcohol for him too, he’s been more talkative in the last hour than he has been in the two other times you’ve seen him.
“Yeah, he was.” You answer back.
“So I guess you’re not still dating this guy, are you?” Brandon asks. You can feel sets of eyes all resting on you now, like you’re about to reveal a big secret.
“No no, we broke up right before senior year of college. I dated a little in grad school, but when I found out I was moving to Canada I didn’t really bother with trying to find boyfriend.” You tell them, as they nod in response.
The rest of the night isn’t as serious. Jade and Jake tear up the dance floor, and when she nudges you to signal she’s leaving with him you tell her to wrap before she taps it, earning a laugh and wave goodbye. Brock stays by your side the entire night, neither of you wanting to join the others dancing. His arm stays perched on the back of the booth you’re in, while you listen to JT tell some elaborate story from their recent road trip.
When Brock sees you yawn for the third time in a row he asks if you’re ready to head home. “Yeah, I’m tired. I’ll probably just head home soon.” You think he might offer to go back with you, but you don’t want to assume. Instead of yelling over the loud music he just nods and pulls out his phone. He tells the boys that you’re both heading out and they all say goodbye before Brock nudges you out of the booth.
On the car ride home he asks you what you thought of the boys, laughing when your first response is that there are just so many of them. “It’s like trying to keep track of puppies. They’re there one second and then they’re off doing something else the next,” You laugh at yourself thinking about how many of them probably have undiagnosed ADHD, or maybe some of them are diagnosed. “But it’s cute, you guys are like a little family.” This earns one of those genuine Brock Boeser smiles. He’s proud of his little family. He loves them all, and he’s glad that you like them because he can tell they like you too.
That night out leads to a few more texts back and forth, and eventually to full on conversations that go one for days at a time. One night he asked what you were doing and you told him you were going to watch the Battle of Alberta game. You had heard a lot about this rivalry since you embarked on your hockey education, and you figured you should see what all the hype was about. To your surprise, Brock asked if he could join you, and the two you spent the night watching hockey from your couch.
You hadn’t watched a game this intense before, and when Matthew Tkachuk drops his gloves to fight Zack Kassian, Brock can tell you’re on edge. You knew there were fights in hockey, and you had watched a few clips on youtube, but it seemed more real watching it in realtime. You wondered what it would be like to see something like that in person. As the two players are ushered off the ice, you can’t help but wonder if Brock would ever find himself in a situation like that, and when you ask him if he ever fights during games he chuckles a bit before he answers, “No, I’m not really the fighting type. I think it’s better for everyone if I leave that up to guys like Zack and Jordie.”
You’re not totally convinced by this, and you don’t like that the thought of Brock in a fight makes you feel so sick. He can sense your hesitation and he wants to try to ease your mind, “When fights like that break out, it’s usually because both players have agreed to it. You can see that they’re talking right before, they’re asking each other if they want to do it.” He narrates as the fight replays on your TV. “Occasionally someone will still throw a punch even if the other guy says no, but that’s not common. It’s kind of an unspoken rule that you have to stand up for your team, so most guys who are asked will fight, but I’m not usually the guy in that position. I haven’t fought once in the NHL, and I plan to keep it that way. I’d get rag-dolled by both of those guys.” He says pointing back to where the players now sit in their respective boxes.
It’s nice to know that Brock hasn’t fought anyone before, but you still worry about him getting hurt. What if he was the one who got caught by a bad hit? You can’t keep thinking about things you can’t control, so you try your best to shift your attention back to the game.
You and Brock find yourselves in each others apartments more often after that. The two of you will make dinner and watch a game, or just watch TV for the night. Occasionally you walk down to the coffee shop on the corner together or walk over to the park with Coolie and Milo. You’ve started to become friends, and you feel like Brock is letting you get to know him more and more everyday. The conversation is easier, and the flirting is probably more noticeable than either of you thinks it is. Your positions on the couch have drifted from opposite sides of the couch to having your thighs touching while his arm sits, resting behind you across the back of the couch. He always greets you with a big hug, and lately you’ve noticed his arms lingering around your body a little bit longer than the time before
He hasn’t made a move yet, and you haven’t either. You think that maybe he just isn’t interested in getting closer, and you’re admittedly too self-conscious to try to make a move yourself. Tonight os just like any other night that the two of you spend together but you don’t notice that Brock is pretty far gone in his thoughts. That may be because you’re lost in your own as well. A few minutes later his voice brings you back to reality, “Are you okay?” You look up from where you’ve been staring down at the wine glass in your hand. You’re sitting at his kitchen counter, and he’s standing on the other side of the island looking back at you. You tell him you’re fine but you can see that he doesn’t buy it for a second.
“You know you’re like a really good guy, right?” You ask him, after taking another sip of wine.
He smiles back at you with a bit questioning in his eye, “I mean I’d like to think that I’m not too bad.” He says back.
“No, Brock. You’re like really good. You help old ladies at the grocery store, and you talk about your nephew like he’s your own kid, and you’re nice to me when you really don’t have to be.” You try to tell him just how genuinely good he is. You wish you could explain it more eloquently and you wish you could show him how good of heart he has.
“That just sounds like normal people stuff,” he replies with a slight shrug of his shoulders.
He would say something like that, and think that normal people were just as nice as he is, and maybe they were, but the people that you’ve met throughout your life have somewhat tainted that idea for you.
“I think maybe you don’t realize how good you are.” He says back, looking you directly in the eyes. “You’re a good person, and just because I knew you back when you dated some jerk in college, doesn’t mean that it has any impact on how I feel about you now.” He’s so serious in this moment, and not at all like the usual lighthearted guy you’re used to. Somehow he knew just where your insecurities laid. He’s so genuine and honest sometimes that it hurts and the butterflies you feel in your stomach are getting harder and harder to ignore.
The two of you don’t talk much for the rest of the night, and instead settle in a comfortable silence while Brock catches up on the episodes of Gossip Girl that Elias watched without him. Brock isn’t paying attention to what is happening on his TV. His mind is way too busy thinking of what he’s going to do next. The guys have all been pestering him to get a move on, saying that he’ll miss his window of opportunity with you, and he knows that they’re right. If he’s lucky he hasn’t missed his opportunity yet, but if not, he might just be screwed.
He doesn’t even notice when his eyes shift away from the screen and move to rest on you. He’s taking his time, studying every feature, taking in every soft curve of your face. He loves the subtle crinkles on the sides of your eyes that deepen when you smile, and it’s even better when it happens because of something he said or did. If he could, he would make sure that smile stayed on your face for every second of the day. Your hair flows naturally without being fixed and he knows that you often let strands fall in front of your eyes when you’re too concentrated on your work or like now, when you’re invested in the show that you’re watching.
Without a thought, and on instinct alone, Brock slowly moves his hand up toward your face and softly tucks the strand of hair behind your ear. You’re a bit caught off guard at first, but you remain still as you feel his fingers linger on the side of your neck. Eventually you let your eyes meet his and you realize just how close you are to him. The two of you stay like that for a minute, staring at each other, taking each other in. It’s too easy to get lost in Brock’s ocean-like eyes, and you swear you hear the enchanting sound of waves crashing on a beach.
You’ve been staring at each other for what feels like too long, and you’re about to pull away when you feel Brock’s hand on the side of your face again. He’s slowly inching toward you and his eyes are still glued to yours. He’s searching for any source of panic or concern in your eyes, but he doesn’t find any. Your heart has taken over at this point and you can’t keep yourself away any longer, before you lean in and your lips finally meet his.
Kissing Brock feels like everything good in the world. It’s feels like the first time you road a bike or the first time you tasted ice cream. It’s new and invigorating and yet you feel totally safe and secure. Before you know it, you’re deepening the kiss and Brock lets you lead him to where you’re comfortable. It just so happens that you find comfort when you reposition yourself so that your legs are straddling his and his hands are resting on your hips. It’s only when your hips shift on top of him and he can’t help but let out a deep moan that also he makes himself pull away from you. It’s then when you start to panic, and think that maybe this was a mistake, maybe he’s realizing that now.
“I don’t want you to think that I just want this.” He says as he motions to the small space separating your bodies. “I don’t want this to just be a one-time thing…” he mutters out, like he’s a bit embarrassed, and nervous that you won’t want the same thing.
“Brock, the only reason I wouldn’t want this is if you didn’t want it. But if you do, then I do too.” You say steadily. Brock smiles and it’s one of those big toothy smiles he only shares when he’s truly happy. You can’t say anything because you’re just as elated, so instead you lean down to kiss him again.
*
It’s only been a short six months since that night on Brock’s couch, but now you get to call his bed your own, and when you come home to your shared apartment you’re greeted by your beautiful blond boyfriend and your two dogs. Brock insists that you’re their adoptive mom now, and to make it official he bought the two of you matching hats that say “Dog Mom AF” and “Dog Dad AF.” You both wear them when you walk your fury kids together and even though you tell him you think they’re cheesy he knows that you love them.
Brock is somehow everything you need him to be. He’s strong when you’re not and he makes you laugh when you’re sad, but most of all he’s your steady companion. It’s crazy now, thinking back to when you met him. You were just a kid, barely out of high school, and you really hadn’t had the chance to think about what you actually wanted for your life.
Then you graduated, went to graduate school, and started to find out who you were without a boy to dictate the ins and outs of your life. When you were given the opportunity to move to Vancouver you saw it as a new beginning, but you didn’t realize that it was going to be a gift to more than one part of your life. Your work life and your career goals were finally falling into place and that just left one more thing—your love life. You had stopped worrying so much about finding a boyfriend along the way as you focused on yourself, but when Brock Boeser reentered your life you couldn’t ignore it.
Brock’s reemergence was a surprise to say the least, but now you both see that it was a gift of a second chance. When you first met, neither of you were ready for the kind of commitment you now share with each other, and you know now more than ever that those years with Owen and the years you spent alone were all worth it, because when history repeats itself you have the power to change the narrative.
#brock boeser#vancouver canucks#brock boeser imagine#brock boeser fic#hockey imagine#hockey fic#nhl fic#nhl#canucks
237 notes
·
View notes
Text
No Going Back This Time
Pairing: Seonghwa x reader
Genre: Smut and FLUFF, crack too
Word count: 5401
The little metallic band seems brighter than it should be. Every time he moves his hand a bit the light reflects on it. When he takes a sip of wine, it clings on the glass. When he cuts his meat, it rubs against the cutlery. Finally, when he talks about our university days, he plays with it.
“Don’t you think it’s weird?” I blur out not even paying attention to what he was telling me before.
“What?”
“I don’t know. I feel like out of everyone you know or knew, you could have chosen someone else besides me?”
“Well, I’m just the most comfortable with you. You were my best friend through the four years of uni and—“ Once again, his words become background noises. For some reason, I couldn’t concentrate at all. My eyes start to wonder around the room.
There is only happy couples around us and because they didn’t know what our situation is, they could think the same of us. Maybe, other couples in this room were in this situation too. Actually, no way, that was just too weird. I look back at him he’s still talking. Trying to explain his way out of this one. Sure I had feelings for him, when I was in college, when I didn’t want a boyfriend. I always said that we met at the wrong time. He always muttered that I didn’t give him a chance. But if I said that back then was the wrong time, now it definitely is.
Seonghwa is engaged, and he contacted me after years to ask me out on a date. Him and his fiancé made a weird deal. They allowed one another to go on a date with a random person to see if they were really ready to engage themselves into a marriage. So here I am, on a date with an engaged man that used to be my best friend in college, and occasionally something more.
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Honestly? Not really no.. I don’t know. This is weird. It’s like giving me false hope.”
“False hope?”
“It’s a fake date Seonghwa. It’s basically rubbing it in that I’ve been single forever.” I sigh wanting to lay back in my chair but I feel like the restaurant is too fancy for that. Since when could he afford this kind of place.
“Well I mean..” He looks around embarrassed, and then I don’t know if it’s my pride or just wanting to be an asshole to him as a revenge, but I decided to take on his challenge. Tonight, Park Seonghwa, you’re gonna fall in love with me all over again.
---
I was always a bit wild. College years were actually my peak. I had been arrested a few times and Seonghwa was never far behind me. Even though he was the calm type, always having good grades, never missing class. I guess there was something about me that pushed him to do the irresponsible things I loved doing.
“How do uni students dress these days?” I say looking through clothes at a local thrift shop.
“I don’t know..” He says looking around nervously.
“Here!” I take an over sized t-shirt and some ripped up baggy pants. “That’s how I’m gonna dress !! Wait do they have bucket hats?” I go the hat section and find a white bucket hat. “Your turn!” I turn to him.
“No way, we’re not going to a frat party.”
“Seonghwa, it’s Friday night! The parties are booming right now. Let’s just go have some fun like the old days. Here wear this.” I find him a pair of skinny black jeans that had a chain and a white t-shirt. “Just tuck in that white t-shirt and you’re gonna look… Oh! So sexy~” I go up to him taking his nice tie in my hand to pull him to me. “All the girls are gonna want you~” I almost whisper to him and he can’t help himself but to smile back shyly. I was getting to him slowly but surely.
My over-sized shirt french tucked into my large pants, I wait for Seonghwa to get out of the changing room. Once the curtain opens, I can’t help myself but to smile brightly. The man looks like an 80s god. I smile at him in awe and he just scratches his cheek shyly.
“Ok what now?”
“Now~ We go partay!!!” I pull him with me out of the store. We walk down the streets to get to the local campus, who happened to be our university. As we get closer to the frat street, where all the frat houses were located, I stop him. “Wait let’s get rid of our other clothes we can’t walk around with plastic bags it’s weird.” I say as I throw my bag into some random bushes.
“What? Are you crazy, that suit cost me an arm and leg.”
“Mh? Really?”
“Well.. I have the money but it’s still an expensive suit.”
“Seonghwa, you should know better but to wear expensive shit around me.” I smile at him and he sighs. His eyes look around for a minute and he breaks.
“Fine.” He throws his bag too and I laugh.
“Look at you !!! Ok now.” I start running my hands through my hair, taking out any hair accessory that could look fancy, and I shake them lightly to give them a wild look. “Do the same, your hair slicked back like that, doesn’t look like a uni student out partying.” He brings his hands up to his hair hesitantly, and starts to shake his hair around giving him an irresistible bad boy look. The tight pants, the white shirt tucked in it, with the belt and the chain. Back in the days I would have jumped his bones in the bushes right away. However, I was on a mission tonight. Jumping his bones would have to come later. I look back at his veiny hands and something shiny catches my eye. “The ring, you have to take it off.”
“What? I can’t do that, no.”
“Hwa, you can’t go into a frat party with a ring on your fucking ring finger. Put it at least on your index. It’ll look hot.” He hesitates again, but soon enough his ring is on his index finger, and before I know it, I’m dragging him into the house we used to party at all the time.
I don’t know if it was due to better audio system, or because I had gotten older, but the music boomed so loud in my ears I almost feel dizzy. We get a few drinks in, and have been dancing for a good half hour. Seonghwa is sweating so much that his white T is now transparent and too many eyes are on him. His body against mine, his smile is now on full display, I had him.
“Hwa!” I yell, and he leans in closer to me. His hands snaking around my waist to keep me close to him so he could hear me. The scent of alcohol on him, our bodies touching, it all brought back so many memories. “Let’s play a game!”
“What is it!?”
“Let’s see who gets the most hook ups!” I smile at him and he looks back to look at me, he’s nodding no energetically. “What? Why not?” He leans back in.
“I’m on a date with you tonight, I can’t hook up with other girls like that.” My heart starts to beat so hard that it feels louder than the beat of the song. My cheeks start to heat up, but I want to blame it on the amount of beer I have in my system.
“So, does it mean you’ll hook up with me only?”
“Only!” He screams back and I lean back to look at him with a huge smile. His white smile flashing at me, made me lose mine real quick. His lips were red and plump, his neck was sweaty and tanned. I look down even more, his white t-shirt was basically useless at that point.
“Then do it~” I mouth to him and it doesn’t take more than a second for his lips to be on mine.
One of his hand on my waist, the other cupping my face, our bodies were slightly swaying to the beat of the music. I slightly open my eyes to get a glimpse of his expression, desperation, was written all over his face. His eyebrows are pinched together, little beads of sweat on his forehead, his breathing heavier than ever. I close my eyes again and smile into the kiss proud of myself. Until I realize, that I am exactly the same. My heart beating harder than usual, I could feel it in my ears. My finger tips start to feel tingly, and I could just lose myself in his touch. He is not the only desperate one. If anything, I had been more desperate than him.
He leans back away from me after heavily and shamelessly making out in the middle of a crowd. His thumb goes over my lower lip and my eyes won’t leave any of his facial expressions out. I take everything in. His raise of an eyebrow, his teeth sinking in his lower lip, the heavy breath he takes.
“I missed you.” He ends up saying in a whisper that I could barely hear but see perfectly on his face and lips. I missed him too, so so much, but I can only smile as an answer.
“Hwa!” I try to scream over the music and he leans in. This time it’s different, he leans in closer and I can feel his breath against my sweaty neck. “Let’s go skinny dipping~”
---
The idea back in the basement of the frat house seemed like the best idea ever. I mean that was before we realized that it was a hike until we got to the lake. However, it’s while we’re both giggling our asses off that we go deeper into the park that led to the said lake.
“Fuck I remember, I felt so bad for San.” Seonghwa laughs his heart out remembering that one time San had walked in on us making out.
“He should just have knocked before.”
“It was his room !!” He laughs with me and I almost end up on the ground. I try calming myself down and wipe some tears out of the corner of my eyes.
“Jeez.. I almost forgot how much fun it was to hang out with you.”
“Yeah~ You really made my uni years interesting that’s for sure.” He says also calming down a bit. We both take a deep breath and look up, the lake was finally in view. The bright moon reflecting on it making it look like a lake of liquid silver.
“It’s so pretty~” I walk onto the little wooden deck.
“Do you think the water is warm?”
“I mean, it’s been really hot lately. Let’s find out.” I turn to Seonghwa and push him into the lake. His screech is heard in the whole park making some birds fly away, soon my laughter was filling the whole valley up. “Dude! Why did you scream like that?!” I hold my sides trying to control my laughter so no one would come to us.
“Why did you push me !!! I still have my clothes on ! Y/N !!!” His hair is over his eyes, and his shirt was now looking like a really thin layer of transparent paper. I start taking off my belt, I take off my shoes, my socks, then slide my pants down. I give him a slide glance his eyes are fixated on my bare legs. I smile amused, then proceed to take off my shirt.
“How’s the water Hwa?”
“Good.” I laugh and jump in with him. When my head goes out of the water, I see him really close to me, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly after swallowing.
“That’s not skinny dipping.” I refer to his clothes. He snaps out of it and starts to undo his belt. He throw his shoes on the little wooden deck, then his socks, pants and belt, and finally his shirt.
“What about now?” I smile and reach down. His eyes become big and his cheeks redden when I pull out a little ball of pink fabric out of the water. I throw it on the deck and look at him with a huge grin on my face. “You know.. I was allowed to go on a date..” He says coming closer to me. I feel his arms snake around my waist. “Not anything more..” His hot breath fanning over my face.
“You’re the one that came closer Hwa~” My hands naturally go up to get a hold of his hips. I hook my fingers to his boxers, and start to bring them down slowly. “Plus there’s nothing wrong with two old college friends swimming together.”
“Yeah..” I take his boxers out of the water and throw them with the rest of our clothes. He hooks his fingers to the back of my bra and swiftly takes it off. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“With who did she go on a date with ?”
“Her ex.” He says in a low tone.
“Does that make you jealous?” He looks back up at my face and throws my bra away.
“Not anymore that’s for sure.”
“Are you still gonna marry her?” His eyes travel around my face. His mouth opens a few times as if he was trying to answer but nothing comes out.
“I’m on a date with you right now..” He ends up saying after a little moment of silence. I wanted to answer with something snappy to hurt him, but my attention goes to something else when I feel his thumbs rub my sides lightly. It’s a simple rub and yet there was so much love into it. That’s how Seonghwa used to make me feel better in college. His thumbs rubbing my hand, my cheek, my side, my thigh. Just a simple rub made thing way better. This rub is.. as if he’s telling me that it’ll be ok, even if he’s not by my side tomorrow.
A ball starts to form in my throat, and my eyes start to sting. All I wanted was to get back at Seonghwa for using me as a one night date before getting married to some other girl but.. it shot back right at me. All the feelings I had for him, all reappeared tonight. Except this time I wanted him for myself, and with a personality like mine, what were the chances of finding someone that would love me the way Seonghwa did.
“What are you thinking about?” I snap back to reality, and I feel his hands bring me closer to him. My body is now pressed against his and I can feel my cheeks blush. “You look like you’re thinking.. that’s not something you usually do Y/N.” He laughs lightly.
“What does that mean?”
“I mean, you usually just act before thinking. That’s what I always loved about you. It’s not something bad.” He panics as he sees me squinting at him.
“Well, I guess I grew up. I haven’t done something that reckless since graduation.” I bring my arms up, and put my hands on his shoulders.
“Wow really?”
“I’m getting old.”
“You’re so dramatic.” He ends up laughing with me. “Well, I am glad to have been part of you’re first crazy night since college.” He smiles at me, and I look down at his lips, then back up at his eyes. “Y/N.”
“Mhh?”
“Remember when, we made that rule that, we wouldn’t go any further than making out in college.”
“Mhm.”
“What happened that one night?” I directly knew what he was talking about. That one night we both gave in and had sex. We both broke our rule and never really talked about it.
“I could ask you the same.”
“I liked you and wanted to date you, and that wasn’t really a secret. Now what’s your side of the story?”
“I was extremely selfish.” He looks at me confused. “I liked you too, but I didn’t specifically want a boyfriend. If I did you were my absolute last choice.”
“What?”
“Seonghwa, look at me. I’ve been single all my life, I wanted to get back at you for choosing me as your one night date, and now.. I’m regretting it more than anything. If I’m pathetic like that now, I was way more pathetic back then.” He raises an eyebrow still confused. “The reason why I didn’t want to date you was because you deserve so much better. The reason I had sex with you, was to get a taste of you at least once. The reason why we did all of that tonight, was to get back at you. I wanted you to regret getting engaged to someone. I wanted you to fall back in love with me, but it fired back, because I’m the one that caught feelings again. I guess you just make me that weak.” I try to laugh it off. “Well.. mhh.. Sorry. I’ll go now.” I try to get off his embrace but his arms stay strong around my waist not letting me go. “Seongh—“ One of his hands get a hold of my cheeks and he brings me really close to his face. “Ah~ Seonghwa it hurts..” I whine to his face, as he pinches my cheeks together stronger.
“You’re such a selfish brat.” He says in a deep tone of voice. As I thought he was mad, I see a smile appear on his lips. “You are so fucking selfish I hate you.”
“Sorry.” He lets my cheek go, definitely leaving two huge red marks. I bring on of my hand to rub them, and with that a pair of familiar pillow lips also come up to the other side, kissing my red mark. One small kiss on it, a second one, and a third one. He leans back just enough to rest right in front of my mouth, I can’t even see his eyes just the side of his face, and then.. his lips on mine.
He soon deepens the kiss from something light to something sinful. I’m not sure if it is pure love or anger, maybe a mix of both.
“You have got to be kidding me.” We both jump at the weirdly familiar voice and turn to the wooden deck. “I thought you guys graduated a while ago. What are you guys doing right now?” We both look at each other then back at the security guard that had arrested use more than once when we were students.
“Hey, it’s been a while~” I try to play it off but he just sighs.
“Get your clothes, I’ll be waiting for you, we’re going to the station.” He walks slowly towards his little car and me and Seonghwa look at each other once again.
“Just like old times.” He smiles at me.
“Yup!”
---
“I’m just gonna let you off with a warning. Let’s just not have that happen again. I don’t know if you were trying to relive the old days but come on, aren’t you guys too old for that. So am I..” He sighs the last part obviously tired.
“Sorry.” We both say with a small smile on our faces.
“It was good to see you though.” I wink at him and he tries to hide a smile.
“Just be glad I’m the one who found you guys. I mean Y/N.. you’re a college professor now. That would have been really bad if another security guard found you.”
“I’ll make sure to be more cautious next time.”
“There is no next time ! Ugh.. Get out of here.” We start walking out when he calls out to us one last time. “But.. I’m glad to see you guys together. Almost makes me believe in love.”
“Oof..” I say really silently and look at Seonghwa who’s still looking at him with a huge smile.
“Wouldn’t want to be with anyone else sir.” He says before passing his arm around my shoulder to walk me out. My eyes still big from what he said to the guard, we walk aimlessly around the empty streets of the college town. After a while I look up at him, his arm still around my shoulders.
“Seonghwa..”
“Y/N.” He says in a really weirdly caring voice.
“Why did you say that?”
“Because it’s true.”
“After everything?”
“Well.. Y/N.” He stops and turns me by the shoulders to look at me. We are both wearing completely wet clothes and the night is starting to get chilly. I feel a chilly breeze wash over us, and his eyes won’t leave mine for a second. “You called yourself selfish for all those things.. but I’m no better really. The reason I choose you for the date was because.. I was secretly hoping I would still get a chance with you. I mean I was ready to get married, and start a life with this girl I’ve known for years.. But I was still hoping to get you instead. I would say I’m pretty selfish too. I haven’t laughed like that in so long. In the few hours with you I laughed for than the years with her. I think that’s a huge tell on the mistake I was about to make.”
“Seonghwa..”
“But if we do this Y/N..” His hands get tighter on my shoulders. “YOU NEVER BRING ME BACK TO FRAT PARTY THE FUCK !!! YOU’RE A PROFESSOR ?!?! YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSE TO BE SEEN AT THOSE MAKING OUT WITH SOMEONE !!!!” I close my eyes at the surprise attack but can’t help myself from laughing.
“I guess I didn’t think.” I stick my tongue out and giggle.
“Oh my god! You did so many illegal things tonight on the campus…”
“Hey hey it’s fine~” We stay in silence for a second, looking at each other. However a question has been burning my tongue. “Do you love me?”
“Y/N.. I think.” He pauses for a second which scares me a little but.. “I think I never stopped loving you to begin with. Tonight just reminded my why the fuck I was so hung up on you after all these years.” He laughs lightly.
“Well, I think it’s the same for me.”
“Good. Now let’s go somewhere before we catch a cold.”
“My place !” I pull him down the boulevard to my little studio apartment. Once we get to the building, we take the little elevator to the top floor where there is only three doors to three different apartment.
“It’s cute here.”
“It’s what I could afford on my professor salary. Which seems really different from yours. What do you do?” I jingle my keys to the last door.
“I work at a ba—“ He stops mid-sentence as he enters my place. He starts smiling and laughing a bit. “What kind of professor are you?”
“Engineering and architecture.”
“You were always smarter than you made it look like. How did you do that?” He points up to my hanging bed.
“My apartment was small, and I still wanted a double bed. Plus I need space for my architect desk.” I point to my L shaped desk that too up a good amount of space. “I wanted to find a system to make it foldable but I need it open all the time. Plus it’s too much of a mess for me to be able to fold it. So I was like, what else takes a lot of space. Boom ! My bed ! So I made this wrought iron basket mounted to the ceiling to hang it right under this huge ass window.” I point to the huge square window that was exactly the size of the bed. “You’re probably wondering, ‘How do you get natural light in now that the bed is under it.’ Well, I left enough space for it to still get natural light. Plus I still have enough windows on the other wall over there.” I point to the opposite wall of the apartment and turn to Seonghwa who’s looking at me with huge eyes. “What?”
“You just.. feel like a complete different person when you speak about that kind of stuff.” He smiles at me.
“Ah.. Well.. Whatever, let’s get changed.” I walk towards my closest and choose some clothes for myself. Which is really just an oversize shirt. I turn to Seonghwa and throw him a pair of old sports shorts.
“Those.. Wait those are mine!!”
“Well aren’t you glad I have them right now.” I smile at him.
“I told you multiple times to give me those back though !”
“Well I didn’t !” I walk to my bathroom to take my clothes off. “I’m gonna shower ! You can either stay there like an idiot or..” I stick my head out of the door frame to throw him a smirk. “You can join me.” He walks towards me at a fast pace and I giggle going back into the bathroom. “Wet clothes go on the balcony!” ‘
Once he joins me in the shower, I realize it’s only the second time that we see each other naked. He snakes his arms around my waist, pressing my back against his torso, and I can’t help myself but to smile, when something comes back to mind.
“Hwa.. Shouldn’t you call your..” Fiance didn’t want to come out of my mouth but he understands what I meant. “It’s way past midnight, technically the date is over.”
“She hasn’t called me, and she’s with her ex so.”
“Didn’t you fall in the lake with your phone?”
“I did but surprisingly it was still working when we got out.”
“Oh really, well in that case. Too bad for her, I’m keeping you for myself, and there’s no going back.”
“Ok~” He coos deeply in my ear making me blush. The hot water hitting my lower stomach and his hands rubbing my sides once again tonight. He lips go up to my ear and he starts to kiss the edge lightly. He slowly goes down, until he reaches behind my ear, then soon my neck and shoulder. I instinctively move my hip and feel his length against my thigh. I shudder at the unfamiliar contact and I’m directly filled with excitement. This felt like one of my many wet dreams, except it was very real this time.
“Fuck..” I whisper not believing that it was happening. His right hand starts to go down, ghosting my skin making me shiver under his almost non-existent touch, and after what felt forever, I feel the palm of his hand against my warm core. I sigh at the pent up relief and I can hear him smile. He inserts one digit as his thumb starts to slowly rub my bud. My right hand goes up to grab his wrist and my other hand comes up to the back of his neck.
“Y/N..”
“Mhh” I manage to get out without moaning.
“Last time, when we had sex, you had your back at me the whole time. Let me see you this time please.” He says in a deep voice filled with lust. He almost sounded out of breath when I still hadn’t touch him. “Can you ride me?” I try to hide my smile, but how can I? I turn around, his hands going to my waist, and my hands on his chest.
“Get down~” He does so, his back resting on the grey glass tiles, he winces lightly at the cold they produced. But his attention is quick to go somewhere else when I start straddling him. He looks up at me with hopeful eyes and just right there and then I want to jump his bones but control myself. “Hwa~”
“Mhh?” He raises his head to try and catch my lips but I back up a little.
“I love you.” His open mouth transforms into a cute smile.
“I love you too.” He pulls me by my waist to put his nose against mine before kissing my lips gently. I reach down to the base of his length and stroke him a few times before placing his tip to my dripping entrance. I slide myself over him a few times before I let myself sink in slowly. I feel him stretch my walls and I clench my teeth at the feeling. “Ah fuck..” I hear him whisper in a deep voice under me. Once he’s fully inside of me, his hands pin my hips down to not let me move. “Just one second please.. I’ve been horny since that dumb frat party, give me one second.. I wanna savor this moment properly.” He looks up at me to flash me a smile and I lean down to catch his lips with mine. However the more I stayed on him the more my walls would clench instinctively making it worst for him.
“Ready?”
“Yeah..” He says in a moan in my neck. I start to go up his length feeling him completely against my walls, then back down deep again. I start slowly mainly because the feeling made me incredibly weak, but soon I’m able to go at a faster pace, but still slow enough to feel him properly and deeply. “Fuck Y/N~” He closes his eyes and his eyebrows pinch together, his mouth slightly agape, the view was just gorgeous. I didn’t want to see that from anyone else, and I didn’t want anyone else to see it.
His hands start to get a stronger grip on my waist and he starts to assist me in going up and down his member. He starts to let out more consistent low grunts and I cannot hide my moans anymore. Soon enough, I start to feel a tingling on my bud and a warm feeling bundle up in my lower stomach. I am getting closer and closer.
“Hwa~ I’m super close..” I whine in between moans. I bring up my hands to his shoulders to try to stay stable but my movements were obviously getting more sloppy. He realizes that and starts to meet my movements with his thrusts making me almost yelp at the sudden slap of skin. My head falls on one of his shoulder and I bite down on it as his thrusts become more powerful, deep and keeps hitting that one right spot that makes me see stars in colors I didn’t even know existed.
“Right there.. Fuck.. Y/N—“ He grunts and as I’m about to come I snap my head backwards, my back arching due to the intensity of the orgasm he just gave me, my nails digging in his shoulders. My eyes clench shut and in a matter of second, I feel him coming deep inside, filling me up properly. I let out a huge sigh of relief and he pants almost uncontrollably trying to get his breath back.
“Ah~”
---
The ‘shower’ done, and our clothes on, we go up the little stairs that lead to my bed. He looks at it suspiciously and I just laugh.
“I’ve been sleeping in it for a while, it’s perfectly safe.”
“Have you ever had somebody else in there with you?” He asks more talking about the weight.
“I have.” He cocks an eyebrow.
“But it doesn’t matter anymore does it~” I laugh and he just sighs before joining me carefully. “See it doesn’t even swing. It’s completely attached and it’s safe.”
“Mhm..” He says still not entirely sure. I poke his sides as he makes himself comfortable and takes me in his arms. “What?”
“Look up.” He does as I say, and realizes the advantage of having the bed right under the window. The sky was perfectly clear and tonight it was filled with stars.
“Wow.. you see that every night?”
“I mean when the sky is clear yes.”
“That’s beautiful..” I wrap my arm around his stomach and properly rest my head on his chest still looking up. I feel his hand come up to hold my hand and at this moment I’ve never been happier.
#Ateez#ateez x reader#ateez scenarios#ateez writing#ateez seonghwa#ateez park seonghwa#park seonghwa#park seonghwa x reader#park seonghwa fluff#park seonghwa smut#seonghwa x reader#seonghwa smut#seonghwa fluff#seonghwa writing#seonghwa scenario#seonghwa oneshot#kpop#kpop writing#kpop scenarios#kpop oneshots#kpop smut#kpop fluff
178 notes
·
View notes
Text
Coast To Coast
part vii
Harvard University, 2014
There must have been a greater power taunting him.
“Sexy!” Anderson—forward, number 77, alternate captain—had said in the locker room. “That is this year’s Halloween theme, boys. Bring your girls, bring your booze, bring your minimal clothing, bring your A-game.”
Sexy. That was definitely just what Logan needed for his first OKN house halloween party. His new teammates. In minimal clothing.
He rolled onto his back on his dorm bed with a sigh, continuing to scroll through his phone while he waited for Finn to get out of their shared bathroom.
Finn O’Hara. Harzy, the boys called him. Right wing but didn’t always play that way, number 17, a sophomore. Originally from New York City. Logan’s new roommate.
“It’s how it works, rookie,” Anderson had said. “Baby OKs share. You’ll get your own room eventually.”
Logan was fine having a roommate. He had had one at prep school. He didn’t even care if they were messy, he was sure he was twice as bad. But Finn O’Hara. Red hair, six foot even, brown eyes—bambi, the boys called him. A little on the thinner side, but Logan could tell he could bulk up if he wanted to. Finn O’Hara.
There must have been some greater power taunting him.
“Fuck,” Finn’s voice came from within the bathroom. The door was open, but not enough for Logan to see anything. “My balls are going to hate me.”
Logan snorted. “We wear spandex every other day of the year.”
“Yeah, breathable sports spandex, not this plastic shit. Jesus fuck,” there was a groan. “At least I look alright.”
“Stop staring at yourself and let me get in there.”
“Okay, okay,” Finn said, and Logan watched the door move as he pushed it open.
The universe hated him.
Finn was some sort of gladiator, Logan thought, with nothing on but a red cape that clasped around his neck and shoulders, and a pair of tight, gold underwear that left nothing to Logan’s imagination. They had a fake, foam sword clipped at the hip. He had gold paint on beneath his eyes, streaked like a football player, and a gold laurel crown sitting in his red hair. His pale skin was creamy against the gold and the frame of the dark red cape. He had cheap looking sandals on that went all the way up his strong calves, biting into the muscle a little.
Finn spread his arms, turning in a slow circle. “Look at these fucking things. Who makes these and why?”
Logan swallowed, looking at the gold underwear. “For frat parties, I’m guessing.”
“Yeah,” Finn laughed and then bent over his bed to fold his discarded clothes up. His cape slipped away from his back and Logan sat up abruptly.
“Merde, Harzy, those things are barely holding onto you.”
“I told you, my dick is gonna hate me,” Finn said loudly.
Logan smiled and swiped his party city bag from his dresser. “Souhaite moi bonne chance.”
“Swat bon,” Finn rolled his eyes.
Logan laughed and slipped into the bathroom. He could hear Finn putting some music on as he undressed, singing along softly under his breath. Logan gave himself a moment to close his eyes and breathe, fingering his necklace. He’d known Finn for a little over two months. That was it. And already he liked him in the morning. He liked him drunk off his ass. He liked him on the rare lazy day, still under his covers reading a book and wearing his glasses. His glasses. Dark tortoise shell things that turned amber in the sunlight, like his eyes, and just—fuck. He liked Finn on the ice and like it when they were on the same line, something that was happening more and more frequently. He liked Finn, and Finn seemed to like him well enough, and Coach liked them together. The found each other on the ice every time. Logan had never had that before.
Logan rubbed his hands over his face and then reached into the plastic bag for his costume—if he could call it that. A black cape, clasped by the yellow and black Batman symbol, the iconic mask that covered his eyes, and what could only be called underwear. They were black and shiny, with the bat symbol on the ass.
“Merde,” Logan breathed once he squeezed his thighs into the shorts. It was—obscene. He wasn’t hung like some of the guys he’d seen but this certainly made it look like he was. His cock pressed against the fabric as insistently as his ass did. He turned around and looked at the yellow symbol there and was glad that the cape would be covering at least some of it.
“Ready?” Finn said when thumping music started up downstairs meaning people were starting to arrive.
Logan looked out the small bathroom window and towards the dark driveway. Cars were lining up. People were getting out in bikinis and corsets, speedos and stockings.
“Uh, yeah,” Logan said. “One second.”
He looked at himself in the mirror and laughed a little before spinning the bat mask once, and placing it over his head. His hair curled out from under it, and the black frame made his eyes look a little startling.
He looked—not bad. If he was looking to pick up tonight—which he hadn’t done yet at Harvard—he probably could. He turned and looked at his abs, defined from the rigorous pre-season training. He looked good. He pushed away the wish that Finn would notice.
“I’m ready,” Logan said and stepped into the weird plush boots that had come with the costume. He pushed his way out of the bathroom. “Sounds like people are here.”
Finn looked up from his phone, legs spread in a way that was doing Logan zero favors. “Yeah, I—”
Finn’s stare was one Logan had felt before. Spotting him in the weight room, checking each other during drills. Two months of that look that Logan refused to think about. But that was a hard thing, when he had nothing to do but look right into it.
Finn stood abruptly, taller, gold paint reflecting into his eyes and making them light like syrup.
“What’s your,” Finn swallowed. “Tattoo. Necklace. I’ve never asked.”
“Oh,” Logan looked down at his hip. “It’s a fleur-de-lis. Sort of a family thing. Me and my sisters have them in different places.”
“How many sisters do you have?”
“Three. They’re older than I am.”
“Fleur-de-lis,” Finn repeated softly, eyes on the tattoo. He swallowed again and then looked away. “Sick. Should we go?”
“Yeah,” Logan said. “Yeah, I need a drink if I gotta wear this thing all night.”
Finn laughed. “Uh-huh. Me, too.”
Logan lasted about an hour before he couldn’t stand his mask anymore. He left it on a table somewhere, pushing his sweaty hair off of his forehead and wishing for a hat. He’d have to settle for something cool to drink instead.
OKN house had the back door open into the chilly yard and porch. The living room had a drinks table set up, one of those plastic fold out ones that they used at rush and club fairs, beside the great oak dining table that no one actually used except, well, Finn. Finn who planned his essays at this table until it was way too late and he snuck up to the room, trying to be quiet for Logan. Logan, who stayed up just to see him go about his routine and fall into bed. Logan, pretending he was a part of that routine.
Logan might have had a Finn problem. A two-month long Finn problem. A Finn-in-glasses problem. A Finn-dressed-as-a-gladiator problem. A Finn-in-his-red-Harvard-jersey problem with his rough skating and sharp shots.
A Finn over in the corner problem, talking to a girl. Problem.
Logan turned to the drink table and desperately looked for the rum.
Logan was allowed to have a Finn problem. Logan just couldn’t have a Finn…anything else. Finn-wet-dreams, in which he woke up with a gasp, sweating against his sheets and only needing to shove his hand into his pajama pants where he was red and swollen in his own hand, barely touching himself before he was shooting into his fist, eyes resolutely away from the bed across from him. Finn-bringing-him-breakfast, not that he could make more than burnt toast, before he drove them to the rink. Finn-laughing-with-him, like a best friend that Logan had never actually had. There were teammates, and then there were friends.
Finn was a friend. Logan could have a Finn problem, a Finn secret, and a friend.
He just couldn’t have Finn.
The rum was no where to be seen. A shoulder bumped his.
“Hey, rookie,” Finn smiled. “What you looking for?”
Finn’s crown was lopsided, like some sort of halo in an old painting. Like someone had been messing with it. Logan looked for the girl, but she was gone.
“Rum,” Logan said.
Finn did a quick survey of the table and found the bottle easily, unstoppering it and reaching over to pour a healthy amount into Logan’s waiting cup.
“Coke, right?”
Logan nodded.
A Finn-knowing-his-drink-problem.
Finn made himself one, too, and held his cup out for a cheers with a smile. Logan smiled back, clicking their plastic cups together.
“Lost your mask somewhere, Batman. Now the whole world knows your secret.”
Logan laughed tightly and raised his cup to his mouth. “I can’t have that.”
Finn tilted his head, chewing a little on the rim of his cup before taking a drink. He cleared his throat. “You been to the roof yet?”
“Non,” Logan shook his head.
“Wanna? It’s a kinda cool view of campus.”
Logan tried to smile over the hammering in his blood. “That girl didn’t wanna join you?”
Finn rolled his eyes. “Come on.” He pushed off the table and was disappearing into the crowd quickly. Logan squeezed through bodies to follow.
~
“I found the picture,” Finn shouted. “Nut—fuck, is he still at the store?”
“Oui,” Logan said, filling up a glass of water from the sink. “Did you really find it? Let me see.”
Logan padded over to where Finn was sprawled on the couch and set his glass down before crouching near Finn’s head to see his phone.
“Oh God,” Logan laughed, ducking against Finn’s shoulder.
“Are you kidding? Lo, you look incredible. Fuck me, look at your legs. And you’re bigger now, like Jesus Christ… Ugh.”
Finn swiped his thumb lightly over where Logan’s tattoo was shown on his hip, just above the ridiculous yellow belt.
“This thing used to drive me crazy,” he said softly. “I mean, it still does, but…fuck.”
Finn used to have fantasies, while wishing for Logan, all of which had been very carefully kept faceless. Until this tattoo would make an appearance and ruin it all—and make him come immediately. It was ingrained in his subconscious as a Logan thing, one moment he would be touching himself in the shower, letting his mind wander quietly towards a hard chest against his, a large hand around his dick instead of his own. Faceless. He’d take the boy and press him against the wall of the shower maybe, do whatever he wanted him to do, kiss his neck, rut their cocks together, maybe he would moan Finn’s name—
Logan’s voice. The hip he had his fingers wrapped around was darkly inked, and tanned.
“Mon rouge,” Logan’s voice—really his voice—came through. Finn looked up at the touch of fingers through his hair. “Where did you go?”
Finn looked at Logan and took a slow breath. He was so familiar. He had been right there for so long, but it was only now that he was close.
“That was…” Finn swallowed. “Kind of a hard night.”
Logan’s brows drew together, and he nodded minutely after a moment. “We’ve had a few hard nights, non?”
Finn looked back at his phone, and then Logan was taking it out of his hand, clicking it off, and setting it on the coffee table. Finn sat up a little as Logan climbed into his lap, knees pressed to his hips. Finn ran his hands over his shoulders, then up beneath his sweatshirt to his broad back. He was bigger now. Stronger.
Logan pressed his fingers through Finn’s hair again and then a kiss to his jaw, one side, and then the other, his cheeks, and then his mouth.
“They lead us here,” Logan said softly. “The hard nights.”
Finn’s throat felt tight. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck. I know. I know they did.”
“Let me show you it’s easier now,” Logan said. “D’accord? Harzy, let me.”
“Lo,” Finn rasped out. He ran his thumb over where he knew the tattoo was, had memorized it quickly, would kiss it endlessly.
“You work hard for everyone,” Logan said the words into another kiss. “You worked hard trying to make me not be afraid, even when I was horrible and terrified.” He kissed down Finn’s throat and Finn’s mouth dropped open. “Even when you were terrified, even when I hurt you. Let me. Finn…”
Finn let out a breath, eyes opening to the ceiling, then to Logan’s when he brought their mouths back together.
"Let me.”
“I took you to the roof,” Finn gasped as Logan pressed against him, warm and real. “I don’t know what I was expecting, I…fuck, we barely knew each other.”
“Do you have any idea how much I wanted you,” Logan said. “Lean up for a sec.”
Finn let Logan pull his t-shirt off of him, let him press wet kisses to his neck and shoulders. It felt good, but part of him itched to flip them, to make Logan feel good. Kiss down his chest, kiss that tattoo.
“Relax,” Logan laughed softly, easing Finn back against the cushions. “You have to let me love you. I need it, Finn. I need to.”
Finn’s cock began to fatten up at that. He let his head fall back. “Lo…”
Logan reached behind him to yank his sweatshirt off and—and there he was. Real.
Finn pressed his palms against his chest, his stomach, feeling the hard curves of his muscles. Logan pressed his hands over Finn’s, bringing them to touch his neck, his pecs. “Let me take care of you for once. Rest and let me.”
Logan leaned down for another, soft kiss and then was swinging off of the couch. His cock was a soft outline in his sweatpants. “Allez.”
Logan pulled Finn up and Finn couldn’t help but back him against the nearest wall, just for a moment, thumb back against the fleur-de-lis, lips harsh against his jaw, just the way he knew Logan liked.
Logan let out a laugh that cut off in a moan. “Non, non—”
Finn pulled back and Logan’s smile made him smile. Logan was flushed and his neck was red from Finn’s mouth. Finn sucked a bruise on top of the blush on the side of his throat, and Logan’s short nails pressed into Finn’s back. Finn reached down and cupped Logan’s cock within his sweatpants, feeling the heat of it through the fabric.
“Non, non, non, allez,” Logan was still half laughing, walking Finn backwards towards his bedroom. “Je prends soin de toi. I’m taking care of you.”
“But I like making you come,” Finn grinned, only just managing to give Logan’s ass a squeeze before Logan pushed him back onto the bed. He bounced a little, pushing himself against the pillows before tapping his thighs. “C’mere, baby.”
Logan shucked his sweatpants off, followed by his socks, and then it was just him, bare and standing there in front of Finn. Finn swore softly and reached down to palm himself.
“Non,” Logan shook his head and knelt on the bed, cock standing out and wet. The sight only made Finn give himself another squeeze. Logan was straddling his hips then, snatching his hands and moving them to his waist. Finn wrapped his arms all the way around Logan, bringing their bare chests together.
He kissed him hard. “Gonna take my pants off, too? Can’t do much like this.”
Logan scoffed and hit the side of Finn’s head lightly, making Finn laugh. But he obliged, coaxing Finn to lift his hips so he could pull his sweatpants away. He leant to kiss the newly exposed skin, mouth soft against Finn’s hips and stomach, hand wrapping around his cock. Finn let out a slow breath and tangled his fingers in Logan’s hair.
He wasn’t expecting it when Logan sucked the head of his cock into his mouth. Logan hadn’t done that yet. He made Finn sit up, abs tightening.
“Tremz,” he panted out a breath. “Oh fuck.”
Leo had been wanting and loving about going down on Finn. It had practically broken Finn’s brain, seeing him there, blue eyes open with his mouth full of his cock. They’d laughed and kissed sending those videos to Logan. It was unbearably hot, thinking of Logan, seeing them, wanting them.
This was entirely different. It was different with both of them. With everything.
Leo and Finn liked to read together, swapping favorite passages. Logan didn’t read much, but he liked to be read to. Finn had always known that, had done it a million times back at Harvard. But now he knew that Logan liked to lay on Finn’s chest while he read, aloud or to himself, and fall straight asleep. He’d always fallen asleep to Finn’s voice. But now he was a weight on top of Finn, breathing softly against his neck and Finn just…
Logan’s mouth was soft, too, tongue pressing against the head of his cock.
Finn loved him.
“Lo, Lo, Lo…” Finn panted. “Fuck, baby.”
Logan just hummed and sucked down further for a moment before popping off and smiling a sweet smile. “Did it with Leo.”
Finn huffed out a laugh, throbbing at the image. “I should be no fucking problem, then.”
Logan laughed, too. “I hope he comes home soon.”
“Me, too,” Finn said. He wanted him with them.
“I guess I know a way to pass the time until he comes back.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Logan smiled and rolled onto his back, producing lube from Finn didn’t know where. He spread his thighs. “Love it when Knutty does this, the fucking splits.”
Finn leaned forward, running his hands down Logan’s smooth skin. “Yeah. I didn’t even think about how goalies do that until him.”
Finn watched Logan’s face as he slipped two fingers into himself.
“Baby,” Finn said softly. “Let me.”
“Non, you watch.”
Finn sat up further, hand going to his cock—
“Don’t,” Logan panted, head against the bedspread as he worked himself. “Watch.”
Finn sighed and took Logan’s thighs back in his hands and kissed the inside of his knee. There was a little scar there from a night that happened a long time ago. Finn remembered.
Logan laughed breathlessly. “You can’t help yourself.”
“I love you so much.”
Logan’s breathing hitched, green eyes hazy. “Finn…”
Finn kissed it again, and then the other one, and then his thighs. He sucked kisses into the skin, bringing purple to the surface. Logan was marked by the time he sat up.
He was quiet as he pressed Finn back against the pillows. He wet his lips.
“Lo, what—”
“Why do you have your socks on, you weirdo,” Logan said as he swung a leg over Finn’s thighs. Finn’s cock nudged his entrance, and Logan gasped, cutting himself off.
He leaned down and captured Finn’s mouth in a needy kiss and reached behind himself to line Finn up. It was only then that Finn realized—Logan was going to—
Logan’s thighs were firm beneath Finn’s hands as he sunk down on him. Finn’s mouth dropped open at the feeling, of Logan in complete control. It wasn’t like fucking him at all, it was Logan, above him, head tilted back with the feeling of Finn filling him up.
“Finn,” Logan’s voice was more whine than anything else. “Finn, Finn, Finn—“
And he was seated, their hips together, Logan’s cock drooling between them.
“Holy shit,” Finn could barely breathe in. “Holy fucking shit, Lo.”
Logan got his knees under him and pushed himself up before sinking down again. Finn clutched Logan’s hips as all the breath seemed to punch out of Logan’s lungs. He did it again, and again, landing hard with each thrust, completely gone with fucking himself on Finn’s cock. Finn was mesmerized with the wide expanse of tan skin he had to kiss, Logan’s collarbones and shoulders, tongue running over his nipples as Logan’s thighs worked around him.
Logan shifted his hips and pitched forward into Finn’s chest with a curse, burrowing his face in Finn’s neck as he rolled his hips forward in small, sharp motions, hitting that spot inside him again and again.
“There you go, baby,” Finn said, wrapping his arms under Logan’s and around his broad shoulders. He pushed up in time with Logan, making Logan practically shout. “Be as loud as you want, there you go.”
“Finn,” Logan just kept saying, slipping a few times and saying Leo’s name instead. It made Finn all the hotter to think that Logan was imagining Leo there with them, sitting beside them on the bed, maybe working Logan’s cock into his mouth.
Logan’s breathing hitched up and he tightened his arms around Finn’s neck, fingers gripping his hair to pull Finn back for a sloppy kiss as he started to raise his hips again, skin slapping down against Finn’s. He worked until Finn was sure his thighs had to be burning, no matter how toned they were. Finn was going to lose his fucking mind.
“What,” a voice came from the doorway.
Finn looked up to the side to see Leo standing there, keys in his hand.
“Leo,” Logan gasped, and reached a hand out while rocking himself down on Finn’s dick.
Leo walked forward slowly towards the bed and took Logan’s hand like he was in a daze, staring at their naked bodies, slick with sweat by now. Logan yanked him forward and started undoing his belt.
“Hi, Peanut,” Finn panted, head falling back again as Logan rocked against him harder. “Store was—good?”
“I…” Leo was staring at where Logan was wrapping an arm around his waist now, leaning forward to press sloppy kisses over where Leo’s cock was quickly filling in his underwear.
“Knutty,” Logan said, before getting his fingers under the band of Leo’s boxers and pulling down so that Leo’s cock fell out. Leo laced his fingers into Logan’s hair, a laugh startling out of him.
“Logan, oh my god, I’m still holding my keys and wallet. I have my shoes on.”
“Allez.”
Leo just shook his head, raking his fingers through Logan’s sweaty hair. He dropped his things onto the night stand and then tugged his t-shirt off in one go, pushing off his shoes next. Logan let him undress, turning back to Finn and pressing his hands to Finn’s shoulders.
“Don’t touch him,” Leo said as he kicked his boxers aside. He fell down on the bed beside Finn and wrapped a large palm around himself, stroking his shaft. “Come on Finn’s cock, Tremz.”
“Non. Finn.”
Finn watched Logan and Leo share a look that he didn’t quite understand.
“I found the Batman picture,” Finn offered as a hopeful way to get into whatever silent communication Leo and Logan were having. “Sort of—” Finn hissed as Logan tightened around him. “Stirred up some memories if you couldn’t tell, fuck.”
Leo raised an eyebrow, shifting to sit on his heels. “Oh yeah?” He ran a hand down Logan’s back and Logan slowed until he was rocking gently, leaning a little into Leo. Leo looked at Finn. “How’d he look, Harzy?”
“He looked—” Finn began, and then cut off. The sudden well of emotion that had cut through him earlier seized around his heart again. He looked at Leo, all kind eyes, running his hand through Finn’s hair. And Logan, connected to Finn in every possible way right then. Finn opened and closed his mouth, swallowed over a dry throat, and looked at Logan. “He looked…”
~
The October air was a relief on Finn’s face when he pushed open the old window to the roof of OKN house. He turned back to look at Logan. They had thrown sweatpants and sweatshirts on, Finn had swiped a bottle of rum from the kitchen. The only real remnants of their outfits was Logan’s mussed hair and the gold on Finn’s cheeks.
Finn still felt like he was wearing a costume.
“This is semi-secret,” Finn said as he climbed out onto the tiles, vans catching on the rough material. “And by that I mean I really think no one likes it out here but me.”
He heard Logan laugh from behind him and smiled, pleased.
Fuck.
“You, the roof, and the dining room table,” Logan said.
The rum sloshed gently as Finn settled himself in the curve of the tiles, putting his hood up for some warmth and cushion. Logan did the same, and they settled shoulder to shoulder.
“Might have to steel your spot,” Logan said. “You can keep the table, though.”
“We already share a room and a starting line,” Finn handed him the bottle. “Wouldn’t be so bad.”
Logan’s smile was bright in the moonlight. “Well, good.”
They were quiet for a few moments, passing the rum back and forth to keep warm.
“Do you think you’re gonna make it? To play, I mean.” Logan asked him suddenly.
Finn knew Logan didn’t know just how loaded of a question he was asking. Was Finn going to make it? Hopefully. Was Finn going to survive it? If there was another teammate who became what Logan was quickly becoming, if Finn slipped up…
Hopefully.
He couldn’t read Logan. He couldn’t risk misreading Logan. He shouldn’t even try.
“Yeah,” Finn nodded. “I do, actually. I…you know, there’s all those statistics and shit but I also…feel it? If that doesn’t sound completely stupid? You?”
“I…” Logan hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
“Come on, have you seen you play?”
One corner of Logan’s mouth raised, but he looked different beneath the moon. He was looking intently at Finn, bottle clutched to his chest.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I feel…”
Finn waited for him to continue, but when Logan merely shrugged, he pressed on.
“Hey, I’d take you. Any day.”
It didn’t have the intended effect. The look that crossed Logan’s face looked almost—pained.
“I mean,” Finn tried to decide how to backtrack. “Maybe one day, eh? Anything could happen.”
Logan turned to look out over campus. He nodded mutely and took another drink. Finn felt concern draw around his heart.
“Lo, are you okay?”
Logan’s eyes snapped back to him. “Quoi?”
“What? Oh. Oh. Oh, no, I…” Finn laughed, a little awkwardly. “I didn’t really mean to…that’s been, like—it’s just been bouncing around my head for a while and I guess it slipped out.”
“That’s okay,” Logan said slowly. “I’m okay.”
“It’s okay if you aren’t. I mean… freshman year, Harvard hockey…it’s a lot of pressure. Believe me, I know.”
Another surprising thing. Logan closed his eyes and shook his head. “Non.”
Finn blinked. “What do you mean?”
Logan shook his head. “Nothing, I just…I’m probably a little drunk, I don’t even know.”
Finn let Logan hand the bottle of rum back to him, clutching it to his chest just to hold onto something. He didn’t know what to make of Logan’s no. No Finn didn’t know what it was like? That wasn’t true. If anything, Logan didn’t know what he was going through. Logan didn’t think about kissing Finn.
Logan stole the bottle back. “If you’re not gonna drink.”
He had a smile on his face again, one of his small secret ones. Finn, despite the uncertainty, smiled back. He couldn’t help it around Logan. Logan, who he now knew was the youngest with three sisters. Logan, who drank rum and coke. Logan, who hated doing his homework, but liked listening to Finn do his. Logan, who fought boys twice his size.
Before Finn could say anything, a rumble of thunder sounded off in the distance. It made them both look up and across campus.
“Halloween storm,” Finn said. “I guess that’s fitting.”
“My weather app said something about it,” Logan said after a moment.
Finn smiled. Logan, who checked a weather app.
Logan saw his smile and gave him a small shove. “Let’s go before it starts to rain and—and lightning and shit.”
“Don’t like storms?”
Logan was already pulling his hood more firmly on his head and maneuvering himself into a crouch. “Not really.”
“Well,” Finn started following him back to the window. “I don’t know about Canada, but we get some pretty crazy ones out here.”
Logan huffed, pushing the window up. “Well, super.”
Finn frowned. “Do you really not like—”
“Merde,” Logan hissed and stumbled the rest of the way through the frame. “Fuck.”
Finn pulled himself through a second later, eyes falling to the rip in Logan’s sweatpants by his knee, the red bleeding into the thick material.
“Shit, Tremz,” Finn said. “Is it bad?”
“It’s fine,” Logan said, looking at it carefully. “I’m fine.”
“Let me see, sit down.”
“I’m—”
“Let me see, speaking as your alternate captain now.”
Logan narrowed his eyes at him pulling that card, but sat on a ratty window seat. Finn grinned at him and crouched between his legs. He steadied himself on Logan’s knee, and then pushed Logan’s sweatpants up carefully, revealing his leg—a leg that Finn had been trying very hard not to stare at in skin-tight Batman underwear all evening. His skin was warm.
Finn would have liked a longer excuse to touch Logan, but the cut was small if not a little deep—thankfully not too bad. It was already beginning to stop bleeding.
“You should be good. Wasn’t anything rusty, just the wood edge. There’s some stuff in our bathroom from when I cut my cheek open last year.”
“Okay,” Logan said quietly. It was only then that Finn realized how still he was holding himself in Finn’s hands. It made Finn back up immediately, neck going hot. Who knew what Logan thought. Finn was so careful. So careful.
“Okay,” Finn said, then cleared his throat. “Okay, cool.” He looked around and then picked up the rum bottle from the floor. “Yeah.”
Logan pushed his sweatpants back into place and stood. “I’ll go check it out. Thanks, Harzy. See you in the room.”
“Yeah,” Finn managed faintly. He watched Logan send him a raw looking smile before jogging down the narrow staircase with a tight heart.
~
“Always taking care of me,” Logan was kissing his neck. “Remember the storm that night?”
Finn found Leo’s eyes before Leo was kissing his chest, teeth scraping over his nipple. Logan was grinding down on him in slow circles, making Finn choke out a moan. Their mouths on him ripped him right out of the memory.
Sometimes happiness made sadness’s edge sharper.
Finn blinked heat away from his eyes, but then Leo was there again, cock against his thigh, mouth brushing his own. Leo. Finn held one hand against Logan’s hip, the fleur-de-lis, and the other circled Leo’s back, fingers tangling in his hair to pull him in for a kiss. He loved kissing Leo.
“You deserve it, too, remember? Like we said.” Leo said.
Logan mouth was softer now, against his jaw. “Maybe it’s time we show you.”
Finn could only sit there and take it, the two of them, warming him through and through.
Leo leaned into Finn’s touch. “Like you told me.”
~
Finn woke up with Leo pressed along his front for the first time the morning before they left for Florida. It was to a six AM alarm, Finn was exhausted, but it was one of the best mornings. Finding out Logan was coming to Gryffindor. Waking up wrapped around Leo. Tied for best mornings. After a few kisses, they had to get up, even if it felt like they were a world away from anything normal. Finn actually smiled to himself in the shower the entire time. He was giddy as hell, and Leo was in the kitchen making coffee and eggs and he could kiss Leo while he did that now. He could kiss Leo while he was reading on the couch, he could kiss Leo goodnight and crawl into bed next to him. And and and.
Leo looked up when Finn entered the kitchen, hunched over his coffee cup with two steaming plates in front of him. “Hi.”
Finn just walked forward and turned Leo away from the counter and towards him. “Leo.”
Leo took a lock of his hair, the red darkened from the shower, and curled it around his finger. “You look a little too serious for my liking.”
“You’re okay with all of this, right?” Finn said, and then the words rushed out. “You’re okay with me, and with Logan—hopefully—and you feel good and not pressured, and I just want to make sure because, Leo, I’m not that much older than you but I am older than you. And I need you to know that I want this with everything I fucking have but not if you’re in any way not happy, or, like, nervous, or…I just want,” Finn felt Leo press his hand to his cheek. “I just want to make sure. And I’m gonna keep making sure.”
“Harz…” Leo’s smile was small, almost disbelieving. “I’m so happy. I’m so happy.”
“Well…good,” Finn let out a breathless laugh, relieved. “Because you deserve to be.” Finn pressed his hands to either side of Leo’s face and kissed him once, twice, and then Leo held him there with a hand on the back of his head, licking into his mouth and making Finn sway into the cradle of his thighs. “I really, really like you, Peanut.”
“I like you, too. Even though you’re going to make us late.”
Finn just smiled into their next kiss. “I’ll get the dishes, okay? You go take a shower.”
~
Logan was already under his covers by the time Finn came into the room. The halloween storm was getting sharper. It was raining now, lightning flashing against the sky. Logan had his headphones in, and his eyes were dark as they followed Finn around the room as he undressed. Finn could hear his music from all the way in the bathroom.
Finn found the Batman mask by the sink and laughed, heart pulling when he thought about Logan’s green eyes in it, staring a little self consciously out at him earlier that night. He brushed his teeth and then put it on.
Logan raised an eyebrow when Finn came out, but he laughed and pushed his headphones away from one ear, making his hair stick up.
“Forgot your secret identity,” Finn grinned.
“Too late now.”
Finn bit his lip as he crossed the room to his own bed, putting the mask down. Logan was certainly his secret. Logan had grown quickly into Finn’s mind, so fast that Finn hadn’t really realized it. One morning, he just woke up thinking about kissing Logan square on the mouth.
Logan took a shaky breath from the other side of the room and set his headphones on his nightstand with a glance outside. Lightning cracked across the sky, lighting up the room. Logan’s fists squeezed around his blanket.
Finn slumped down against his pillows with a sigh, taking the book he was reading from his bedside. He could hear people leaving downstairs, screaming and laughing in the wind and rain.
“I don’t like storms,” Logan said quietly. He wasn’t looking at Finn, and he was messing with his fingers agitatedly, covers pulled high on his chest. “I don’t really know why, I just…I don’t like them.”
“I don’t like seaweed,” Finn shrugged, but warmed when Logan actually laughed. “I don’t know, man, it’s just slimy. Thunder’s loud as fuck, I mean, it doesn’t not make sense to not like it.” He took a breath. “You want the light on? It won’t bother me at all.”
Logan looked at him for a long moment, before nodding. “Oui. Thanks, Harzy.”
~
“Harzy,” Logan said against his mouth, and Finn felt his back arch as Logan drew them closer together.
Finn couldn’t get any words out, though, not with Logan hot around him, with Leo sucking intently at his neck, rutting against his thigh. He let out a harsh breath and tightened his fingers in Leo’s hair. They were both hard and dripping onto his chest and stomach and Finn wanted to do something for them. He was aching inside Logan, breathless from his own memories.
“Please,” he said, and he wasn’t even sure what he was asking. He tried to sit up, to reach for them. He wanted to surround them, to pull them against him harder.
Leo shushed him gently, pulling him into a kiss and easing him back against the pillows.
“You were gonna go all the way and get me the stars,” Leo whispered, a light laugh following. “Fuck, Finn…”
“I just—” Finn flexed his hips up into Logan and Logan’s brows scrunched together, hands keeping him upright against Finn’s chest.
“I’m gonna come,” Logan panted, his hips fucking down on Finn. “Fuck, I can’t—”
Logan’s hips stilled and he gasped, cock still red and hard. He fucked once, twice, as if he couldn’t help it, but Finn groaned in protest as Logan gingerly pulled off. Finn watched his own cock bobbing an angry red against his stomach, shiny with come and lube. Logan collapsed into Finn’s side, sweaty and running his hand down Finn’s chest to his balls, cupping them gently.
“Always taking care of us,” Logan breathed. “Fuck, Harz, I love you, but you have to let us take care of you.”
They’d only fucked a handful of times—and Finn was looking forward to many, many more handfuls—but he guessed it was true.
“I like it,” He said. And that was true too. He loved it. His breathing hitched as Leo licked a stripe from Logan’s fingers to the tip of Finn’s cock. “Fuck, Leo.”
Leo just smiled, cheeks a deep red and swung a leg over Finn’s hips. Finn’s hand shot out to grip Leo’s thighs.
“Baby, did you even—”
Leo nodded. “You were a little preoccupied.”
“I could of done it.”
Logan laughed, pressing a kiss to Finn’s cheek. “That’s not the point of right now.”
Leo’s cock hung heavily, balls swollen and tip wet. Finn itched to touch him, but instead Leo cupped his cock against his abs, giving Finn a perfect view of him sinking down over Finn’s.
“We’re all here together,” Logan said softly, accent thick as Finn’s eyes closed at the feeling of Logan’s hand and Leo’s body. “We’re all here for each other, mon rouge. Let us.”
Leo’s head was tilted back, hips rocking in slow circles. Finn cursed, gripping Leo’s pale thighs, longer and leaner than Logan’s.
“Peanut,” Finn gasped. “Jesus, did you two practice this on each other, too?”
Leo’s smile was hazy and blissful. “Maybe.”
Finn groaned, head dropping back into the pillows. Finn loved the two of them together. His two.
Leo’s breathing turned heavy and then he pressed up and sunk down again, punching a sound out of himself. “Fuck.”
“There you go, pinotte,” Logan said from beside Finn. His palm was warm around Finn’s balls still, the sensation making Finn feel like he was about to be right on the edge. Leo was still holding his own cock, but not stroking it, just sinking down around Finn again and again. His blond hair darkened against his forehead.
“I’m close,” Finn said. “Jesus, fuck, I’m so close.”
The urgency had come out of nowhere, but he ached with it. Logan’s hand squeezed again around his balls, and then Leo was pulling off, too. Finn’s abs jumped and the loss. He fisted the sheets.
“Boys, this is not what I call appreciation,” Finn’s knees drew up on their own, trying to seek out any type of friction. His cock beaded precome across his stomach.
“Non?” Logan said, and then he was gone from against Finn’s side. Finn felt aflame, like he could feel every touch, and every absence.
Leo smoothed a hand down his stomach, through the mess, and then his mouth was back on Finn’s cock—and so was Logan’s.
“Huh—“ Finn wasn’t sure if he was breathing properly as his hands shot out to tangle in their hair, brunette and blonde. They lapped at him, mouths meeting occasionally around his wet, swollen tip. They’re—
“Fucking gorgeous, what the hell,” Finn managed, and he did sit up this time, legs splayed, pressing against their chests, palms rubbing over their spines. He had to close his eyes for a minute when Logan’s mouth found his balls and sucked at them, at the sensitive skin at his root, all while Leo’s mouth was sinking down, down. Finn felt it like a bruise, like a hurt that was so good it shattered, he shattered, looking at them.
Finn tried to keep his hips still as he came in Leo’s mouth with a low sound, bowed with his forehead pressed to Leo’s shoulder.
They kissed him, and then kissed each other, and then Logan was crawling across Finn and into Leo’s waiting arms. They smiled at each other, and Finn thought that was better than any of the sex. Leo’s hands were shaky as he pushed into Logan. Logan sunk down on Leo’s cock twice before he was shouting, come hot and white against Leo’s skin. Finn pressed himself all along Logan’s back and held him as Leo fucked into him a handful of times and came, too, face buried in Finn’s neck.
They were breathing hard, like a fine current surrounded the three of them, placing their breaths in sync. Finn was—
~
Leo closed the door to the balcony of Finn’s Florida hotel room and paced back to the bed, sitting beside him. Finn rubbed a hand up and down his back, thumb bumping along his spine.
“He’s hurting,” Leo said, eyes down. “He’s hurting, and he won’t let us tell him that we…”
“Lo’s always needed to do things in his own time. Always. We’ll get to him, we’ll talk to him.”
“I…” Leo cut off with a sigh and rubbed his hands over his face. Then he turned into Finn and Finn wrapped him up close.
“We’ll sort it out. Believe me, I’ve been waiting a long fucking time for this,” Finn pressed a kiss to Leo’s cheek. “For you, too, even if I didn’t know it.”
Leo smiled, even if his eyes were still a little sad.
“You’re right,” he said, and then paused. “Maybe we’ll just kidnap him at the buffet.”
Finn snorted. “Maybe.”
Leo took Finn’s hand in his lap and kissed it. “I think we’ll be together soon.”
~
It was too good. It was all his. Finn ran one hand over Logan’s abs slowly before pressing his palm over his pounding heart. With his other on Leo’s back, he could feel Leo’s heartbeat, too. They were louder to him than his own. Logan’s head was tilted back against his shoulder, his eyes closed, and Finn leant down and kissed his cheek.
“Knutty, c’mere,” he breathed. “C’mere.”
Leo’s cheeks were red like his mouth and he knelt his way over to Finn’s chest, leaning his chin up for a kiss. He pressed his hand to Finn’s cheek, swiping his thumb over his jaw.
“Stubble,” he mumbled with a smile, and dragged his lips over it happily.
Finn laughed softly. “I’ve been playing good, I gotta keep it.”
Logan looked up and all but smacked Finn in the face to feel. “Fucking loved that in college.”
“He had it the first day I met him,” Leo smiled, nuzzling against Finn’s slightly rough jaw and the dark red hair there.
~
“The fuck’s on your face, O’Hara,” was Logan’s greeting during preseason camp Finn’s senior year.
They’d seen each other a few weeks prior when Logan was still in the city staying with Finn’s family. He’d spent the last weeks of July with his own family, and how here they were, back at Harvard, sticky with sweat from ground training. Seeing Logan again after weeks, even just after a night’s sleep, was always a bit of a punch to the gut for Finn. He was tanned from the summer sun, sinfully so, and Finn wanted to—
“What?” Finn laughed, lifting his shirt up to wipe his face—including the week old beard he’d been experimenting with. “I don’t know about it, what do you think?”
He was thankful he was already sweating, because his face heated with the question. He needed to know what Logan thought, always.
Logan, green eyes were made light by his black snapback, walked forward. He took Finn’s chin between his fingers, turning his head this way and that before rubbing his palm over his cheek. Finn swallowed.
“Nice face,” Logan said.
~
Finn laughed. “You made fun of me.”
Leo snorted. “Well, neither of us could very well say fuck, what a hottie.”
“Nut, please go around calling Finn a hottie from now on,” Logan laughed, and then let out a breath. “Fuck, that was so hot.”
“I still haven’t seen the picture,” Leo said, and then, more quietly. “What activated our Finn plan, Tremz?”
Finn blinked. “Finn plan?” Logan looked up at Finn with a smile and Finn raised an eyebrow, tweaking his nipple and making him swear and laugh Finn’s favorite laugh. “What the hell is a Finn plan?”
“Just…” Logan looked over his face, and then to Leo, reaching out and petting a hand through Leo’s hair. “We wanted to show you that we want you just as much. That we want to take care of you as much as you always tell us you want to take care of us.”
Finn looked between them. “You…”
“We were talking about it,” Leo began.
“And making out,” Logan added.
“And making dinner one night,” Leo laughed. “And, I don’t know, we just sort of…when we felt the time was good, decided we’d make sure you knew.”
Logan nodded, hair tickling Finn’s throat. “You looked pretty sad there for a second, mon rouge, looking at that picture.”
“And when you were telling me about your rookie year, remember?” Leo said. “In Florida, after we got together?”
~
“I’m just saying,” Finn shrugged. They were laying down facing each other on Finn’s bed. Timmy was out with Kuny and Nado and, when that happened, he didn’t come back for a good while. Finn didn’t want to do anything too risky, but kissing Leo until he was soft and smiling seemed like a good plan. Logan wasn’t picking up his phone. He wasn’t in his and Leo’s room.
Kissing had soon turned into worrying.
“I’m just saying, I’m really glad you didn’t have to do the rookie season hotel shit. I’m so glad you’re with me. When I did it, it just,” Finn watched where his thumb was stroking over Leo’s knuckles. “I mean, Logan wasn’t really talking to me. I was trying to give him space, but I—missed him. Sorry,” Finn laughed a little, clearing his throat around the hot tears forming there.
“Don’t be,” Leo said. “Harzy, you love him. Of course you missed him.”
“I just waited for him to call forever,” Finn said in a rush. “And I’d wait forever again, you know, but I…I would just stare at my—phone,” Finn’s voice hitched. “And then I finally called him and it was horrible, I could barely talk.”
Leo’s eyes were sad and he pressed closer to Finn.
“I’m just happy you wanted to talk,” Finn whispered into the small space between them. “I’m so fucking glad we talked and now look, I can kiss you, Leo. Even though I’m crying,” Finn smiled a little, and Leo kissed him.
“You’re allowed to cry over him. Fuck, you think I haven’t cried over both of you?”
Finn laughed and rubbed his eyes. “Hope you don’t cry over me anymore.”
Leo grinned, swinging a leg over Finn’s hips. “I think they call you Heartthrob-O’Hara for a reason.”
~
“I remember,” Finn said softly. He couldn’t think about that phone call, though. Not yet. With time. “I didn’t know you remembered, Nut.”
Leo nodded. “I think we all remember.”
Logan let out a shaky breath against Finn’s chest and Finn rested his lips against the crown of Logan’s head. Maybe Logan couldn’t think about it either. Logan, who had tried to be so bright for him, even when he could tell Finn was crying.
Leo smiled. “Got a couple of star crossed lovers on my hands.”
Finn felt Logan’s laugh this time. “Care to join the party?”
“Yes, please.”
Finn groaned at the soft syllables in Leo’s voice, the drawn out ones in Logan’s. “You both get accent-y after sex."
“Tired,” Logan said.
“Fucked,” Leo sighed.
Logan laughed loudly, eyes squeezing shut, and he nudged Leo with his hand before wrapping his fingers around his arm and pulling him close for a kiss.
Finn didn’t think they were star crossed anymore. They had orbited around that somehow and ended up here, pulled by Leo’s gravity, into a tangle of light.
“In the middle,” Leo laughed, and bent briefly to press a lingering kiss to the dark ink on Logan’s hip before returning to his mouth. “Just how you like it.”
Finn smiled. Finn was just where he liked it, too. Feeling the weight of both of them in his arms, not moving, not going anywhere, their voices soft in a room the was safe and warm.
“What do you like, Nut?” Finn said. “Tell me.”
Leo bit his lip. “Looking at you two. I never even thought I��d have one person. And if I did, I thought they’d get tired of secrets. Scared away.” Leo let Finn pull him closer. “Secrets made you two stronger. And you’re not gonna leave me because you have to keep me a secret, either.” Leo’s gaze flickered. “I like looking at you two and knowing that.”
~
“Knutty, Knutty, Knutter, Nut, Nutter butter baby,” Finn sing-songed as he shuffled into the kitchen, voice sleepy and hair a mess. He felt awake after last night, his boys, on him, with him, working their way so deep into his bones and heart that he bled and bruised and breathed them. It felt good.
He rested his cheek against Leo’s back as he wrapped his arms around him from behind while eggs sizzled on the stove.
“Morning, Harz,” Leo said.
“Sup,” Finn sighed.
Leo snorted, then took a strip of bacon he had cooling from a plate. “Here.”
Finn made an appreciative sound and took it between his teeth.
“Do you wish we could cook?” Finn asked as he chewed.
Leo wavered his head back and forth. “No,” he decided. “I think you can do more than you think you can, but I like cooking for you. You guys clean up. It’s like being on a cooking show. All the fun, none of the work.”
Finn laughed, pressing a kiss to Leo’s shoulder through his t-shirt. “Cute.”
“Is he awake yet?”
“No,” Finn said, pulling three coffee mugs down from the cupboard. Logan, easily awoken, hard to wake up. “Somehow we managed to sneak out. Lightest sleeper ever. You know, I used to have to pee on roadies or when we were roommates—I mean I still pee, but you get the idea. And he would jump up like there was a fucking burglar.”
Leo dumped the eggs onto the waiting plates and flicked the hot pan off. He came up behind Finn this time, hands on his hips while the smell of brewing coffee rose in the air. Finn leaned back against his chest.
“I thought about doing this so many times while you made breakfast,” Finn said softly.
Leo glanced at his face, nose brushing his cheek. His eyes were closed, eyelashes turned shadows in the warm sunlight pooling on the floor. He was completely relaxed into Leo, and Leo held him there. This was what Leo liked. Finn, knowing that they weren’t going anywhere, no matter what he did.
“Me too,” Leo said, kissing Finn’s jaw. Finn smiled, and turned his head into the kiss.
“Leo,” Finn said.
“Yeah?”
“I think we should ask him.”
Leo only had the chance to smile and kiss Finn again, deeper, before there was a weight falling against both of them, Logan’s dark head of hair burrowing against Leo’s chest. Leo laughed and stumbled, just a little.
“You gain ten pounds when you’re sleepy, I swear.”
Logan just hummed. Leo and Finn looked at each other over his head, and then Finn sandwiched Logan in from the other side.
“Hey, Lo,” he whispered.
“Quoi,” Logan mumbled sleepily, his eyes closed and cheek against Leo’s t-shirt.
Finn smiled at Leo, and Leo ducked down.
“Will you move in with us?” Leo whispered.
Logan looked up so fast he butted Finn in the nose with the back of his head.
“Fuck me,” Finn startled back and Logan swore, turning in their arms and pressing his hands to Finn’s rough cheeks.
“Harz,” Logan began, and then Finn realized that both him and Leo were laughing too hard to speak.
“Ouch.”
Logan sagged against him, gasping for breath—
And then Finn realized he was half crying. And nodding. And nodding and nodding.
Finn abandoned his aching nose and looked at Leo, whose expression had softened. Logan’s breathing stuttered and he gasped out a laugh, wiping his face.
“Fuck, I just woke up.”
“Is that a yes?” Finn laughed. “Head butt me then burst into tears, I guess that’s a pretty regular morning for us all.”
Leo kissed Logan’s neck softly. “Say yes.”
“Get out of Dumo’s basement,” Finn said.
Logan punched him in the chest, making him groan, and the pulled him back in, leaning into Leo’s arms.
“Yes,” Logan said. “Yes.”
~
Over coffee, Finn held his phone out to Leo.
“Slutty Batman.”
Leo blinked at the photo. “Holy fuck.”
#coast to coast#lumosinlove#sweater weather#sweater weather spin off#coast to coast lumosinlove#lumosinlove coast to coast#o'knutzy#Logan tremblay#Leo knut#finn o'hara#lumosinlove ocs#lumosinlove oc#finn x logan x leo
285 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’m not in love 🎆🌌
Collegeboy!haechan x female!reader
->A.
⚠️Warnings *PLEASE READ!⚠️
->this story contains heavy themes including drug abuse, alcohol, drug overdose, blood, self hate, character death, and a funeral. There is also strong language used by both major characters. Please continue with these in mind.
⚠️I will put an astric (*) when shit starts getting real.
“So what, do you not love me anymore?”
If it wasn’t the deep blue and dark red lighting illuminating the hallway full of drunk teenagers and one second love stories that made y/n feel claustrophobic, it was the fact that she was currently questioning the past two and a half years of her love life with Haechan, the guilty looking boy in front of her.
This party was supposed to be good for them.
It was supposed to be a chance to temporarily escape the struggles of their everyday lives as juniors in college, and give them an opportunity to actually see each other longer than an hour or two - something that was rare for them, what with y/n’s intense school and work schedule, and Haechans priorities in his fraternity, Nu Cappa Ti, and as the tailback of the schools football team.
Y/n and Haechan met the first week of college. Haechan was rushing for NCT, and y/n’s roommate just so happened to be fucking NCT’s president. When Haechan got a cut from being punched by a guy with a ring in front of a crowd of drunk college students, y/n was there to happily clean the beautiful boy’s - that had caught her eye from across the room, not even one hour before - face. From then on, y/n let herself fall for this boy that she knew was destined to break her heart, and haechan let himself become dependent on this beautiful girl that he knew would hurt him eventually.
But, for the past two and a half years, things had been going pretty okay. I mean, as okay as it can go for two twenty year olds in love, but no time to show it. That’s why this party was supposed to be a thing good for them.
And for a while, it was.
Until the clock hit 12am, and Haechan downed his fifth shot, while y/n sat in the corner of the room, looking pissed and feeling too sober for this shit.
She didn’t understand. She looked hot, the vibe was hot, and Haechan was looking fine, like always. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t talking to her. She didn’t usually go to these parties. She had had a problem with drinking and drugs when she was in high school, and had tried to steer clear of them since coming to college. She thought Haechan understood. And he did. Y/n told him about her past when they first started dating. Haechan never pressured her to join him at the mandatory parties his frat hosted that he had to attend, once every other week or so. He never forced her to drink with him and his friends during his birthdays, or any holidays. He loved her, and he genuinely wanted the best for her.
And that’s not saying that y/n didn’t sometimes engage in a shot or two, or that she didn’t sometimes do a line of coke when she had done particularly bad on a chem test. She didn’t see anything wrong with testing the waters of relapsing, as long as she didn’t go overboard.
As long as she didn’t overdose.
But this party was feeling pretty fucking dry to her, as she watched Haechan slam another empty shot glass on the table tennis top. She saw the eyes that the other girls at the party gave him, and she didn’t miss the smirks and eyefucks he gave them back. Yeah, y/n was feeling pretty upset.
And for once, she wanted Haechan to know.
The only logical thing she could think to do was storm over to him, grab his arm, and drag him away from his dumb friends and their dumb faces and the dumb whores at this dumb party that she stupidly attended because her dumb boyfriend asked her too, and she - like a dumbass - loved him, and would therefore walk off a bridge if he asked her to.
Haechan really wanted to forget that y/n was there.
He loved her, and he was aware that he was the one that asked her to come. But she could feel pretty suffocating when she sat in the corner, with crossed arms while glaring at anyone who caught her eye. Haechan wanted to have fun with her, but y/n didn’t want to be at the party - she wanted to be in her boyfriends arms while binge watching the HBO show “Euphoria” that everyone raved about. That was her version of fun.
However, neither of them would describe fun as yelling at each other in a darkly lit hallway of a smelly frat house at 1 am. One was too drunk, one was too sober; both were extremely pissed. Haechan would have said anything to get away from her at that moment, and y/n would have said anything to get him to stay.
“Look y/n, I think we might need a break.” In retrospect, Haechan was right. They did need a break from each other. Time to re-evaluate their relationship; their needs. But unfortunately for everyone, y/n had very easily replaced the emptiness in her heart from drugs and alcohol with her love for Haechan; and addiction is unhealthy- no matter what it is you’re addicted to.
“Why do we need a break? Why, do you not want to be around me?”
“Maybe not! I don’t know, y/n!”
“Well fuck you! I’m your fucking girlfriend-“
“-fuck you too! You’re fucking obsessed with me-“
“-I’m not obsessed with you, I just love you! I just want to be with you! Hang out with you, not this drunk half assed excuse of a man-“
“-oh what? And you’re such a woman? It’s not my fault you replaced drugs with me, y/n! That’s not my fucking fault-“
“-oh that’s rich coming from you! You’re fucking drunk right now, haechan! You’re a fucking hypocrite-“
“-I don’t want to be with you-“
“-what?” The silence between the two felt so suffocating and intense and loud, y/n couldn’t help but wonder if everyone else in the room was choking like her. The music was loud, and everyone around her was in their own worlds, but y/n and Haechan were dead silent, and that felt suffocating.
“You don’t wanna- you don’t wanna be with me?”
Haechan looked down at the ground, and scratched his neck. “Fuck, I don’t know y/n. I don’t know-“
“So what, do you not love me anymore?”
Haechan didn’t say anything.
The blue lights suddenly reminded y/n of a time in her life when she would wake up feeling like she was being choked every morning. and she wondered if she had just died, and this was her own, personal hell as the choking feeling comes back up into her chest. She could feel herself walk away from him, into the kitchen, where she immediately turned on the sink and splashed cold water in her face. She could see Haechan shake his head and walk away from their spot in the hallway, and she could hear a boy who she had Environmental science with ask her if she’s okay. She could see herself ask him to hand her the fireball bottle on his right, she could see herself drink the whole thing, then do some coke, then take some pills she didn’t even know the name of. She could see herself walk through the party with hazed eyes and focused gaze on the colored walls that seemed to be moving. She could hear her friends asking her where she had been in her ear, she could feel her feet moving around the living room, dancing with her friends to the music she’s never heard before. And when she paid just enough attention and sat just still enough on the couch with the almost empty liquor bottle cold against her thigh, she could feel her heart turning into liquid itself, and falling into her acidic stomach; never to be seen again. She looked around the room, trying to find the eyes of someone - anyone - who could comfort her; hold her. But all she got for comfort and affection were the hot tears that rolled down her face and the inability to stop her chin from wobbling as she broke down on the couch of a frat house at 3am, while the purple and red lights warped her vision to picture a happy life for herself, with Haechan, that she could see dripping down the drain.
Having just enough consciousness to know she had to find her boyfriend, she used the bottle to push herself off the couch, where she then threw the bottle back down and started shuffling around the still crowded party.
She eventually did find Haechan. He was sitting in the corner of a different room, surrounded by a couple of his frat brothers, a couple other friends of his, and a couple girls that were ready to step in and take your place in Haechan’s life at the drop of a hat - or better yet, at the drop of you. He was laughing at something Renjun - a good friend of yours, as well as Haechans - said, when you shuffled up to him and put your hands on his thighs, almost falling in the process.
“Haechan, haechan, I need help. I don’t feel good.” You looked like a crazy lady. You were looking at Haechan with wide eyes, and were repeatingly smacking his thighs with every word.
Haechan was more drunk that he was earlier, and he had had a bit of Jaemin’s coke at this point. He didn’t think you were being that serious, and he figured you were being helpless for no other reason other than you didn’t know what else to do to get him back. Also, he couldn’t help but let the poison from his frat brothers mouths - directed at you - earlier get to him.
“Get off.” Haechan took your hands off his thighs and threw them by your side. Everyone who was sitting around Haechan and his friends were looking on in interest, and as you looked around, you saw that only Renjun looked worried for you in the least bit.
“Haechan, please my stomach feels really fucked up and my head-“
“Just go to my room and clean yourself up. God you’re a fucking embarrassment, y/n.” Haechan hadn’t even looked at you yet, except for when you surprised and slightly scared him earlier when you walked up. He just rolled his eyes, and started whispering in the girl sitting to his lefts ear, something funny, seeing as she giggled and started giving you slide glances. You didn’t have to ask to know that you were the punch-line.
You gave Haechan one more look of surprise, and stumbled away from the group of 20 year olds with shaky hands and bugged eyes.
(*) Something Haechan thinks about a lot, later in life, is this moment, as he finally looks up and sees your back as you stumbled out of the room and to the stairs. He thinks about what he would have said to you, if he knew it was the last time he would ever talk to you. He had eventually come to the conclusion that he would take your warm hands in his, and just hug you. Just to feel your hot breathe on his neck, and your hands in his, one last time. He would have said he loved you, just to hear you say it back once more. He would apologize for the careless words before, and he would give you all the comfort you deserved, and then some.
Sometimes, on the random nights where he isn’t having a nightmare about you, he dreams of this moment. He dreams that he got up, ran to your figure already halfway up the stairs, and pulled you into his arms. He would run his hands down your hair, and drag you to the closest bathroom, where he would shove his fingers down your throat until you threw up into the toilet all the toxins in your system. He would be crying, and mumbling, “please survive this, please survive this, please survive this...” until you were no longer throwing up. He would dial 911, and force you to down a bunch of water bottles, before you were taken to the hospital, and saved. But everytime, before he got the chance to kiss you again, he’d wake up, and he’d be alone in the dark, like always.
You had stumbled up to Haechan’s room, and slammed the door closed with all the power you had in you, not forgetting to lock the door behind you.
You’re body felt like it was on fire. It felt like the acid in your stomach had expanded, and was spreading to every part of your skin, and burning you from the inside-out. You wanted to throw up, run to the bathroom, and faint all at once. You were trying your hardest - and failing - to cool yourself down by fanning you face with your hands. You looked into Haechans mirror on his dresser, and saw that you were not only sweating like a spy being interrogated, but your face was extremely red, and your makeup was running down your face. You pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail, and ripped your shirt off as fast as you could.
You were surprised nobody could hear your moaning and whimpering from out in the hallway. You felt like screaming, felt like calling for help, but you couldn’t open your mouth without a groan coming out. You put your hands above your head and looked for something - anything - to focus your attention on. Your eyes locked on a photo of you and haechan that was taped to the corner of his mirror. It was taken over the summer before your sophomore year of college - although you remember it like it was yesterday. Haechan and your’s close friend group had a tradition of going up to Santa Cruz on the last week of summer, and staying at a friends beach house for a couple days. The photo was taken on the first night. You were all sitting on the beach at night; the bonfire you all wrapped around lit your faces. Haechan had only had one drink, and you opted for a coke. You were both extremely happy, as shown in the photo by both of yours large smiles. You remember that around an hour before the photo had been taken, you had given yourself to Haechan for the first time. You had been dating him for almost a year at this point, and you both felt like it was time. In the photo, haechan had his arm wrapped around you, and you had your head on his right shoulder. Your eyes were bright red due to the cameras shitty quality. Haechan had complained at the time about why Jaemin felt the need to bring not one, not two, not even four, but FIVE disposable cameras; but when the time came to look through the printed pictures, Haechan had a smile on his face and stole every single one with your face in it, par like four or five due to Jaemin’s yelling at him.
“We need y/n to be represented!”
“She can be represented by being here, though!”
“Haechan, she might not be here, ya know. You can’t tell the future.”
“Shut up. I’m going to marry her one day.”
You had never had a bigger smile on your face then that moment. Sure, Haechan had told you before that he wanted to marry you one day. But hearing him so willingly say to your friends that he was; that was big.
Now, you couldn’t help but fear that that would never happen.
You tore the photo off the wall, and started staring at it with tears running down your face. You were sobbing at this point. Sobbing so bad that you thought snot started coming out of your nose, yet when you went to wipe it and return your hand to the side of the photo, the blood trail on your hand let you know that it was indeed not snot.
“Shit shit shit,” you whimpered out.
You knew the signs of an overdose. You had to go to rehab when you were 17, and it was pretty fucking traumatizing. The worst part was when they filed you all into another white brick room with shitty lighting and flies buzzing around the tv, and taught you all the tell tale signs of an OD. You had nightmares after that for weeks. It was the only thing that got into your head enough to make you want to be sober. Just so that you wouldn’t have to experience that.
Looks like that plan was flawed.
You wanted Haechan. You needed him. You needed to get to him and tell him you needed a hospital. Yet, when your legs went to take a step towards the door, you finally felt it. You could feel your brain just, die. You fell to the floor - almost like fainting - and started convulsing. The last thing you felt was foom pooling out of your mouth, and the last thing you saw was the photo of you and Haechan, that day at the beach. Haechan’s wide smile brought you to a blissful sleep with open eyes.
(Please take a second to collect yourself before you continue reading. Thank you.)
Haechan was getting really fucking bored of this party. He had stopped drinking once you walked away, and that had been maybe three hours ago, so he was feeling way more sober. The sun was glaring at the mountains now, and peaking through on the town below. Upon looking at the time on his almost dead phone with a deep sigh, he saw it was nearing 6am.
Haechan regretted what he said to you. He hadn’t seen you since you walked away, and he didn’t know if you had left, or fallen asleep on his bed. He hoped it was the latter, that way he could cuddle up to you and silently beg your forgiveness for his drunken and harsh words. He finally started walking up the stairs after saying goodnight - or, good morning - to his friends; Renjun’s final words to him actually kind of scaring him.
“Dude, y/n didn’t look so good.”
“Eh, I’m sure she was fine. Probably tripping or something.” Haechan shrugged off Renjuns fear as he took another swig from his water bottle.
“Nah, man. She looked, like, really fucked up.”
When Haechan got to his door, he turned the knob, only to find that it was locked. Figuring you were asleep, he gave a couple hard knocks, so that it could jolt you awake. “Y/n, baby. Open the door. I wanna go to bed.”
You didn’t answer.
Haechan knocked a couple more times. “Y/nnnnn, wake up!”
You didn’t answer. It was quiet. Eerily quiet, actually. You were a light sleeper, and you couldn’t have been drunk, right?
Haechans knocks were a little louder, and a little faster. “Y/n!”
Haechan kept knocking for what felt like forever. He was slightly panicking at this point.
What was wrong?
“Y/n, this isn’t funny. Open the fucking door!” He was full on pounding now.
“Fuck this.” He mumbled, before turning around and walking through the party, which had significantly less people, but still quite a lot. Finally, he set his eyes on who he was looking for.
“Johnny!” He sternly called, while walking up to the drunken giant.
“Yyyahhhh?” Johnny laughed. He was surrounded by Doyoung, Taeyong, and Jaehyun, who were all older members of the frat; Taeyong being the president.
“Y/n locked herself in my room, and she’s not answering. Can you help me break down the door?” Johnny always saw y/n as his little sister. Haechan was the youngest member of the frat with a steady girlfriend, making y/n the youngest of the girls intertwined with the boys. Johnny, being the oldest member, always took a kind of protective role over her. He himself had a younger sister, and she was just a bit younger than y/n; therefore he had a small soft spot for her. At the sound of y/n possibly being in trouble, Johnny sobered up quite a bit, and gave Haechan a curt nod, before following him upstairs; the rest of the boys who were aware of the situation following him.
At the sight of the white door, Haechan’s stomach dropped like a rollercoaster dip.
What if y/n really was in trouble?
Johnny took a place on the right side of the door, while Haechan took the left. While he wasn’t the strongest out of the current men there, he wanted to be the first one in the door.
“Okay, after three. Ready? 1, 2, 3!”
Both bodies slammed into the door. It didn’t budge.
“One more.
1
2
3”
“Fuck! Y/n?”
“Baby! Baby can you hear me? FUCK! SOMEONE CALL 911!
Baby! Hey! DON’T YOU FUCKING DIE ON ME!” Haechan tried shoving his hands down your throat, he tried to give you CPR, - which he didn’t even know - but nothing worked. You had foam laying out of your open mouth, and your eyes were wide open, with your hands laying outward. Haechan caught site of the picture in your hand, and moved it out of the way, before grabbing your hand and bring it up to kiss it.
“Please. Please survive this.” He sobbed, while placing his forehead on your chest.
“Time of Death, 3:46am.” The words echoed in Haechans ears like a gunshot. He couldn’t help but hate himself. If he had actually taken her concerned words seriously, would she be alive right now? She was dead long before he got there, around two and a half hours, to be specific.
The words still echoed in his head while he stood in a bright graveyard in your hometown on a sunny spring day, your favorite season. The black suit he wore made him feel hot, but it didn’t matter to him. The huge bouquet of roses in his hands were heavy, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered. Not when he couldn’t stop staring at your parents broken frames. Not when your older brother and sisters couldn’t stop crying and holding their loved ones, having just lost their baby sister. Not when Johnny couldn’t keep the tears in his eyes as he grabbed Taeyongs hand. Not when the weight of Renjun’s hand on his shoulder felt heavier than any bouquet Haechan would ever carry. Not when Haechan felt like the air in his lungs left, and wouldn’t return again. Not when he refused to cry until he was alone, because if he did, he wouldn’t know if he could stop.
Not when he felt like he just lost his soulmate.
He silently placed the roses next to your grave when the ceremony was done. He didn’t want to say much. He knew he’d be back here soon, anyway. He finally snapped out of his daze when he felt a soft hand being placed on his shoulder, and turned to come face to face with the lady that raised you.
“She loved you so much. She talked about you all the time. I was always worried about her when she left for college, but then she started talking about this boy she met who changed how she thought of the world, and then I met you, and I knew she was in safe hands. Thank you, Donghyuck. For giving my daughter a reason to live.” Your mom brought her handkerchief back up to her eyes, and wiped more tears that refused to stop falling. Your father, who was standing behind your mom, stepped forward and hugged Haechan, while mumbling in his ear “don’t be a stranger, please,” before grabbing his wife’s hand and walking towards the car. Haechan wanted to take their words to heart, really. But he couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head. When he had focused his attention on your moms tears, did you cry? When he couldn’t stop looking at your parents holding hands as they walked away, he would never be able to hold your hand again. When he was your father place a kiss to his moms forehead before opening her door for her, you died alone.
Haechan turned to hear his name being called by Taeil, a graduated member of NCT who drove him to the funeral, and shuffled to the car with his head down.
When they got back to the dorm, Haechan did what he had been doing for the past two weeks since your passing. He kept his eyes on the floor as he walked to his room, not being able to look at the door without going back to the last moment of blissful ignorance he had; yet he looked up when he went into his room, not being able to look at the last spot he saw you in. He flopped onto his bed with a sigh, and picked up the picture of himself and you on the beach, it being the last thing you consciously touched. He plugged in his AirPods, and put on the playlist you had made for him a year ago, that you added to whenever you wanted, like he did with yours. The intro for “Exist for Love” by AURORA came in, and Haechan finally let himself cry for the first time that day. He turned over, and inhaled the scent of your pillow on his bed. Haechan didn’t want to live this life anymore. He didn’t know what life he wanted, but this wasn’t it. He couldn’t stop thinking about it as he heard the door creak open. He knew who it was without having to look up. Wordlessly, Renjun, Jaemin, and Jeno all climbed in to the bed. There was literally no room for the four boys to comfortably lay down, but they liked it like that. It meant they had to hold and hug each other, which made the pain numb just a bit.
Haechan took a deep breath. He didn’t want to exist, but he would. He would continue to exist, because you didn’t get to.
Fin.
#mine#my works#my work#nct#nct dream#nct 127#nct u#wayv#nct angst#nct dream angst#nct 127 angst#lee haechan angst#lee donghyuck angst#angst#nct fluff#nct dream fluff#nct 127 fluff#lee haechan fluff#lee donghyuck fluff#fluff#lee donghyuck#lee haechan#sunflowerhae#nct smut#nct dream smut#nct 127 smut#lee haechan smut#lee donghyuck smut#smut#nct lee haechan x reader
144 notes
·
View notes
Text
Catnapped!
Loki x Reader
One Shot
Summary: "CAT. YOU HAVE MY CAT."
Arms laden with groceries Loki barely spared a glance at his surroundings. After all, this was his yard, his house, his front door that he was currently struggling to unlock. Nothing should have changed since he ventured out to the store a little over an hour ago.
Except something had changed. A quick glance up as he turned the knob and he found himself face to flat, printed face of someone very familiar. Black fur, wide green eyes, and a small notch in the right ear. Yes, that image was very familiar.
That was his cat.
The flyer labeled her as lost and that wasn't entirely incorrect. He hadn't seen her in about a week, but she always came back as if her absence had only a blip of her little cat life. Loki never worried.
Until now.
A flyer meant someone had taken her in and he would have to call the number below her picture to collect her. He would probably be reprimanded for not putting a collar on his pet. They might even heavily imply a right to a reward! Loki's arms burned, reminding him of his current task. He waited until after he had put away his groceries and fixed himself some dinner before plucking the flyer off his door and dialing the number.
The woman Loki spoke to on the phone was beyond frustrating. After five rings the call finally connected.
"Hello?"
He heard nothing and almost hung up, but a small croak kept the phone to his ear.
"Hello? Who is calling so late?"
Loki glanced at the stove clock. It was only seven eighteen. Still, he plastered on a wide smile and upped the charm.
"Apologies madam. My name is Loki and I believe you have my cat."
"Your hat? I'm sorry Lovely I don't have your hat."
The smile fell as irritation ignited within his full stomach. If she had left his cat damn well alone like everyone else in the neighborhood he wouldn't be having this needless conversation.
"CAT. YOU HAVE MY CAT."
It took far too long for Loki's liking but he finally wrangled two things out of the old woman. First, that she did in fact have his cat and second, the address at which his cat was currently being held. He was shouting into his receiver that he would be there to collect her in ten minutes and frankly he didn't care if she properly heard him or not.
Fifteen houses down toward the cul-de-sac meant Loki had about three minutes to fume and seven minutes affix his air of casual charm. By the time he reached the small garden gate of the property he was practically indifferent to his circumstances. In and out and he would have his cat again. Simple enough.
The yard was surprisingly well-kept though the sheer amount of flamingos scattered about made Loki cringe. What was it about old women and plastic flamingos?
Would it be too cruel to call the homeowners association on her? Loki decided he would hold off on making any final verdict after he had his animal safely back with him. The last thing he wanted was to start a war with another neighbor and this one was bound to be less fun than his feud with that frat boy Stark.
He considered his usual knock, a soft but sure three raps of his knuckles, but based on his prior experience with the hard of hearing woman he gave into the satisfying base instinct to pound his fist against the door with enough force to make the glass within it rattle. It was a little less gratifying the second time around. He was about to give up, already halfway turned to walk away, when he heard the door open.
"Sorry, sorry, I was upstairs."
The voice was decidedly not one of an elderly woman. Loki turned, taking you in, making you shift as his gaze traveled from head to toe and back again. With a clearing of his throat Loki remembered himself and his polite grin came to his face a little easier.
"That's quite alright. I called earlier about my missing cat?"
You smirked and crossed your arms, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. It was your turn to run your gaze up and down his long body and if your lip got caught between your teeth, well you just couldn't help it.
"So you're Lovely huh? Odd name."
"It's Loki, actually."
"Even stranger."
Unlike most comments on his name this one did not make him bristle in defense. He quite liked the look in your eye and the way your face openly displayed the pleasure had within the conversation and with the company kept. It was never this easy when meeting new people or even with people he knew well for that matter.
"Well, you might as well come in. Midnight is around here somewhere and it'll take me a minute to find her."
You turned and walked further into your grandmother's house, leaving the door open for Loki to follow. Your eyes sweeped the living room quickly, looking for an unfamiliar mass of deep black fur.
"Midnight?"
Loki had closed the door behind him but not ventured further than the foyer. He took in the tacky decor of your grandmother's living room, a curl to his upper lip intensified with each furtive glance along the walls. Your grandmother really did love flamingos and it showed from the frame photographs to the flamingo printed pillows.
"Well she didn't have a collar so how was I supposed to know what to call her." you said, pushing aside a basket of yarn and getting on your hands and knees to feel for her under the couch.
"Her name is Lokitty. Not that she answers to it."
Your head shot up and turned around to show your guest your incredulous expression, though it took a very long second for his eyes to move from your upturned ass to your face.
"So your name is Loki and hers is Lokitty?"
He had the sense to at least look self-conscious, a slight drop in eye contact and a hint of color in his high cheekbones.
"The Parker kid named her."
"Peter Parker? Who is in Ms. Potts' second grade class and knows all of Jupiter's moons and would I like to hear them? I get it now. Hard to say no to him."
An odd sensation of relief warmed in Loki's stomach while a teasing tingle sent some heat down just below watching you move across the floor on your hands and knees to check under something else. He silently hoped Lokitty was well hidden.
Eventually you came up from the floor empty handed, but there were still plenty of rooms to check. You gestured for Loki to follow you further into the house, popping your head into the kitchen you didn't spot the black cat on top of the sickly pink cabinets or counters.
"I wasn't aware they made counters in that color." Loki commented, his head popping in just over yours. You could feel the edges of his jacket brush against your back and since he couldn't get a good look at your face you allowed yourself to feel a giddy fever rise from your stomach to your face.
"I think she special ordered it in the seventies. It's looked like this for as long as I can remember."
You moved beyond the kitchen into the dining room, Loki following without prompt this time.
"Do you live here too?"
You shook your head before turning your attention to the other presence in the dining room, the topic of your conversation.
"Hi grandma!"
Your voice was loud and a little overzealous, but your grandmother lifted her head and offered you a wide, toothless smile. Loki had thought she was asleep before and was even further astounded that the woman was not only conscious but simply sitting at the table with nothing in front of her.
"Grandma this is Loki. He's here for his cat."
You spoke each word loud and clear, watching your grandma smack her lips together and squint in Loki's direction.
"Tell Lovely I don't have his hat."
Loki opened his mouth, ready to set the old bat straight once again, but the hand on his arm stopped him. You guided Loki back down the hall and up the stairs.
"She can't hear for shit. Better to just nod and smile. Anyway, Midnight is probably up here."
"Lokitty." Loki corrected, winking when you turned to look at him and you let him catch your eye roll.
The wall decor was just as garish upstairs as down, if not moreso, but one room was literally a sight for Loki's sore eyes.
"Could she be in there?" Loki asked coolly, already moving as he's drawn in toward the dark blue walls.
"A woman's bedroom is private you know."
Your joking tone made Loki feel emboldened enough to walk confidently inside.
It was like a breath of fresh air, literally since the room was perfumed by a lit scented candle to mask the stale scent flowing through the rest of the house, but along with the dark walls were bits of modern furniture and technology. It was like someone took this room from an entirely different house and put it in this one.
"The first thing I did was paint the walls. I couldn't sleep. It's like the pink permeated my eyelids." You were already on your hands and knees searching in the space between your desk and dresser. Loki practically felt his way to your bed, not wanting to miss the way you moved this way and that, so cat-like yourself.
"Staying long then?" Loki heard himself stay.
"My family is concerned about her, but not enough to come check themselves. They want me to decide if we should put her in a home. I'm dragging my feet on making that decision."
Loki nodded, hand running absently along the soft spine of the purring form nestled onto his lap. He had just been then a few years ago, making the choice to put his father in a home while his brother was unreachable on an expedition halfway across the world. He often wondered if he made the right call.
When he didn't respond you pushed back onto your knees and went to meet his eye, but before your gaze could travel that far up it landed on the creature occupying his lap.
"Midnight! You found her!"
Loki blinked, his brain finally registering what his hand had been stroking the last few minutes. Lokitty purred deeply when he gave her a scratch behind the ears.
"That I did, but you found her first."
You came to sit next to him on your bed, hand reaching out to give the lounging feline some attention which she gobbled up greedily.
"I can't take any credit for that. My grandmother was the one who left the back door open and her tuna fish sandwich on the table."
His deep chuckle was just as attractive as the rest of him, and you opted out of any mention of departure while you sat in comfortable silence only disrupted by a low purr. It was nice just sitting around with someone who wasn't family.
"Do I owe you anything?"
Brows furrowed Loki glared solemnly down into the big, green eyes of his four-legged companion. His brain had practically stalled out watching your hand move along Lokitty, stroking in long languid swoops that made his body feel too warm. The question had spilled out, a knee-jerk reaction, and now he was internally cursing himself for such a stupid outburst.
You pulled your hands back to yourself, bringing one to tap your chin as you playfully thought about his question.
"Dinner?"
"Y-yes, of course." Loki managed to say as he forced all his energy into withholding a wide smile.
You turned on the bed toward him, hand reaching for his over Lokitty's soft, sleeping form.
"Great. My grandma hasn't had a date in ages!"
You laughed so hard at Loki's stunned expression Lokitty startled awake and all but lunged off his lap before returning to the signature feline slink as she exited the room.
"You can just keep the cat." Loki joked, making to stand up and leave the room. You stiffled your laughter into effusive giggles, tugging on your still joined hands to keep him from getting too far.
"Okay, okay. You get your cat and I get dinner with you. Sound good?"
Loki released your hand and for a second your heart stuttered with disappointing rejection, but that hand reached up and held your chin tenderly, forcing you to look into the depths of his blue eyes and surrender the air from your lungs as nerves filled the deflated organs.
"Sounds perfect." He said, low and deep while looking unabashedly down to your lips. They didn't stay there long as he met your gaze again with bright eyes and an even brighter smile.
"Mrow?"
You both turned to find Lokitty half in the room, staring wide-eyed and curiously between you. Loki's hand dropped from your chin and this time you let him get up. He crossed the room and scooped up a now protesting Lokitty, locking her limbs into the crook of his elbow so she wouldn't slither away. You squeezed past the pair to lead Loki back out, wondering if a cat scratch to the chest was worth trying to get the kiss you had hoped was coming before the interruption. Halfway down the stairs you ran into your grandmother, her shaky hand gripping the railing for support. She looked up as the two of you got closer.
"Oh Lovely is that your pussycat? I had my granddaughter here make some flyers."
You ease yourself and Loki past her to the door, but Loki's mood could not be deterred by your grandmother's words.
"Yes madam, thank you. Have a good evening." He said in his normal tone, minus the usually dishonest lilt of interest. You watched her continue up the stairs one foot at a time, a flicker of worry kept your eyes on her rather than the handsome man before you.
"You'll make the right decision." Loki assured you through a mouthful of cat fur. Lokitty did not have a penchant for being held and her patience was wearing thin.
Your lips quirked upward half-heartedly as your grandmother finally disappeared into her room. Ignoring Loki's eye you opened the door and stepped aside to let him through. The bright light in Loki faded slightly as the heaviness of age overshadowed the excitement of young romance and while he wanted to ignore one in favor of the other he knew he couldn't and neither could you.
"So, tomorrow? Let's say seven?"
You had finally found your voice as Loki was halfway between the door and the gate. He turned around and you mimicked your stance when you first laid eyes on him, arms crossed leaning against the doorframe, your lip once again caught between your teeth to hide your teasing grin.
"Tomorrow at seven." He agreed with a nod.
And it was just enough of a distraction for Lokitty to throw him off balance. Falling and landing gracefully she took off in a full sprint, squeezing between the gaps in the fence and down the street.
"Oh my god!" You exclaimed, abandoning your post and hurrying across the property to chase after her. Loki managed to catch your arm before you got to the gate.
"Let her go. She'll find her way home. Always does."
She was out of sight, it would be a lost cause to follow a black cat out into the night. You looked to Loki, feeding off his certainty. He was so open, so expressive, and yet there was still so much to learn of him, and you wanted to start filling in the blanks right now.
"Well since you don't have to bring your cat home why don't we move tomorrow's dinner up to right now?"
"I already ate dinner." Loki admitted giving you a slight frown.
"Me too." You confessed and the heavy implications tied to the divulgence didn't go unnoticed on either side.
"Cool."
"Cool."
"I'm going to just lock up."
"I'll be here."
"I can't be gone long. My grandma-"
"I understand."
And you could tell he really did understand. And you could tell he had been waiting for the kiss as much as you had, gripping your waist tightly as you pulled his head down to meet yours.
Later when Loki was unlocking his front door, he felt a slide of pressure against his shins, twisting in and out of the space between them.
"I guess I should be thanking you." He chuckled, staring fondly down at the mass of black fur and two emerald green eyes. She lifted up onto her back paws, stretching long and languid and digging her claws into his skin, making him flinch.
"Or maybe it would just go to your head." He muttered, ushering her inside.
First thing tomorrow morning he was ordering her a collar.
Permanent tag list (open)
@bluediamond007 @kybaeza @myownviperroom @arch-venus25 @instantnoodlese @bambamwolf87 @dyanlzbb @sebstanhun @thoughtfullhuman @sbluehi @fanfictionrecommendations-com @spacezombiie @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen @titty-teetee @alt-er-love-er-alt @bornfortherainydays @venitia89 @always-irrelevant @darkphoenixrisingwrites @drakesfiance @katzenwahnsinn @mywinterwolf @kcd15 @somewereinthegalaxi @justalilsad5 @becs-bunker @reading--mermaid @reviewfanfics @iamverity @evolving2deppression @darlingtholland @700teacups @lovemesomepietro
#loki#loki x oc#loki of asgard#loki fanfiction#loki odinson#loki (marvel)#loki x reader#loki x y/n#loki x you#loki au#loki fluff#marvel fanfiction#marvel fic#loki one shot#loki oneshot#loki fic#marvel au
122 notes
·
View notes
Text
“how much do you hate me?”
pairing: fuckboy!mark tuan/reader
genre: college!au, childhood neighbors, enemies to lovers, fluff, mild angst
word count: 2.3k
a/n: you should know how much i love enemies to lovers ok i really really love it,,,, this is based off the drabble prompt “how much do you hate me?” “not enough to say no immediately what do you want” enjoy! xx
“How much do you hate me?”
The question came from behind you, as you sat reading a textbook and munching on an apple between classes. You spin around to see Mark Tuan, resident fuckboy on campus, smirking down at you.
He wasn’t just the resident fuckboy, but he was also your childhood neighbor, the boy that you watched grow up beside you. It still baffled you that somehow you both had managed to choose the same college. You, for the creative arts program, and he, for the fraternities. The lives you led were different, yet somehow had always paralleled each other.
You were never really friends with Mark, despite your mothers putting you in the sandbox together at a young age. Pulling your pigtails at the age of six didn’t necessarily leave you with the best first impression of him, and that animosity followed you as you both grew up. Arguments ensued throughout the occasional dinners your families would hold together. It always left you frustrated, wishing you had a grumpy old man as a neighbor rather than the increasingly attractive boy you were stuck with.
Awkward teen years and the constant bickering warranted a bit of anger when you realized he chose the same college as you. Would you ever escape this man?
You close your book slowly, as he sits down next to you. It’s early on a Saturday morning, so the library is mostly empty.
You narrow your eyes at him, “Not enough to say ‘no’ immediately,” you say, “What do you need?”
He beams at you and you notice how much he’s changed. You have only seen him in passing glance in one of the dining halls since arriving on campus, and his hair is more blonde since the last time you saw him in the beginning of summer. He wears a hoodie with his frat logo on it, with sweatpants and a hat.
“You know me so well, Y/N.” he says, “I need you to kiss me.”
You immediately recoil, “What the hell?”
He laughs, “Not right now, but tonight at a party my frat is hosting. I’m trying to hook up with this girl and I want to make her jealous.”
“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” you exclaim, before pausing, “What’s in it for me?”
“The satisfaction of knowing you helped one of your lifelong, childhood friends get laid by a senior?” he throws you a convincing smile, “The fact that you’ll have kissed your high school crush?”
You go to stand up, packing up your books into your bag, “I am not helping you seduce a girl, I don’t care if she’s a senior.” You look back at him, “And I didn’t have a crush on you! Where did you get that dumb idea?”
“Your mom told my mom,” he mentions, “You know how they love to gossip.”
It was true, your mothers both were quite the little gossips. But the fact that you did, indeed, have a crush on Mark was something you never told your mother. It was a secret you would keep to the grave. He would never had let you live it down.
He goes to follow you as you descend the stairs, leading out to the Quad. You continue to bicker with him as you make your way back to your dorm hall, and it feels all too familiar. Arguing with Mark is a sport, and you were a pro.
“I do not support using manipulation to get someone into bed with you. Just tell her you want to fuck! What is with guys and zero communication these days, Jesus.” you huff.
“If I do that she might think I want more than just a one time thing!”
“Then communicate that you just want to hookup!”
You reach your dorm hall and just as you are about to slide your ID and open the door, he slides between the door and you.
“Ok, listen, what if I sweeten the deal?” he reasons, “How’s $10 and some free booze?”
You sigh. He has always been stubborn.
“How about $30?” You’ve always been stubborn too.
He rolls his eyes, but holds out his hand, “Fine, deal, be there at nine, okay?”
You grasp his hand in a firm handshake, “Can’t wait,” the sarcasm drips off the words.
It would certainly be an interesting night.
By the time you got to the frat house at ten, the party was in full swing. People littered the front yard, and as soon as you walked into the house, you were met with heat and smoke. You’d never been to this house before, but the kitchen was easy to find. Grabbing a beer from the coolers lining the wall, you cracked it open, wondering where Mark was.
You wandered around a bit before seeing a head of blonde hair coming toward you.
“Hey, you made it! I honestly didn’t think you would show up,” he chuckles, a beer in his own hand.
“I came from the booze and the grocery money,” you grin at him. You never were a lightweight, but the taste of alcohol already begins to loosen you up a bit. “So, where’s this girl you’re trying to make jealous?”
“Not sure yet!”
You whip your head around to look him in the eye, “What? You don’t have someone specific in mind? Why am I even here?”
He laughs, guiding you through some of the crowds of dancers, “I’m trying out a new technique. You know how chicks get jealous.”
Your face morphs into disgust. Of course he thinks like that.
“Have you always been this shallow? This inept?” you ask.
“Hey, look who’s following along with my plan, eh?”
You huff, and take a few more swigs of the beer in your hand. Mark stays next to you, nursing his own drink, watching you curiously. It’s been so long since you’ve really talked to Mark, yet the bickering dynamic feels like you talk everyday.
It takes a few moments, of drinking and taking in the sights of the party around you, before you come to a decision. Taking the last gulp of your last drink, you muster up your courage and look at Mark.
“Alright, I’m starting to get tipsy, I'm kind of curious to see if this will work. Find your target, let’s go.” you tell him.
He grins, “Give me ten minutes, I’ll meet up back here.”
With that, he’s off, and you go to grab another drink. At least there’s booze, you think. You find your spot back along the wall and try to find Mark in the crowd. Eventually you spot him, talking up a pretty brunette, who isn’t as into it as he would probably like.
Watching him flirt relentlessly with the girl brought back memories of high school. Of hugging the wall at parties, watching him flirt and go for the girls in other classes. It was odd watching the shy neighbor boy transform in such little time.
Whenever you crossed paths with Mark nowadays, it always made life interesting. While he constantly drove you insane, you also felt nostalgic for the simple high school days of dumb arguments.
While you are caught in your own thoughts, you don’t notice Mark approaching you. He swoops his arm around your waist, taking you on a trip through the crowd. He nuzzles his nose next to ear, sending a chill down your spine.
He whispers in your ear, “Let’s find a place to start the show, eh? She’s hanging with her friends in the living area.”
He leads you through the house, finding a bookcase in the back of the living room. As he spins you around to lean against the bookcase you catch a glimpse of the brunette he had been talking to. You can’t help but stare at her, as she takes quick looks over at the two of you.
Mark moves in close, his arms coming to rest on either side of you, “Hey,” he catches your attention, drawing your eyes from the girl, “if you get uncomfortable or something, let me know.”
Was Mark being caring? Since when? Wasn’t this the fuckboy that would tease you for paying attention to your studies rather than finding friends? Wasn’t this the very man using you to get in another girl’s pants?
You nod, catching the dark look overtaking his eyes. He glances down at your lips, before leaning in, capturing your lips with his own.
A warm feeling spreads through you, as he grips your hips and you bring your hands up to encircle his neck. His mouth is warm against your own, and you find yourself not hating this as much as you thought you would.
You’re still curious, wondering whether the girl is looking over at you, but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes and check. Might as well just live in the moment, right?
You don’t know how long it is before Mark is removing his lips from yours, but as you open your eyes, he rests his forehead against yours, staring directly into your eyes.
“Not bad, neighbor,” he comments, sending you a smirk that could probably leave you swooning if not for your pride.
“Ditto,” you reply, through it comes out as a sigh, as you still try to catch your breath.
He pecks you on the lips once more before fully retreating from you, “Time to see if the plan worked,” he mentions, stepping away.
You clear your throat, suddenly sobering up, from both the alcohol and Mark. “Right, go get your girl.”
He throws you another smile before sauntering casually in the direction of the brunette. You look away, suddenly feeling sick at the thought of watching him hook up with someone.
You weave your way back into the kitchen and manage to score a glass of water. You aren’t really sure how much longer you want to stay. You vaguely recall Mark owing you $30, but you don’t care all that much.
Deciding you want to leave, you abandon the glass, walking towards the door. Why, surrounded by so many people, do you suddenly feel so alone?
You stumble out of the frat house and into the cool night. It’s quieter out here, despite the background sounds of the bass and the occasional holler from someone on the lawn.
The walk home is sobering, to say the least, as you make your way back to your dorm. It’s never been fun walking home from parties, especially when you are all alone and not very drunk anymore.
You pass other parties, and crowds of people laughing, but you just want sleep, you just want warmth. Coming out tonight was not your finest idea, but you’ve found when it comes to Mark, things always shift from what you planned.
You aren’t sure why you suddenly feel so sad. Is it because Mark is so easily able to find someone to spend the night with? So easily able to talk to others and make connections?
Deep down, in your traitorous heart, you fear it isn’t Mark’s people skills you want, but Mark himself.
You sputter, shaking your head to yourself. That’s crazy, you think. It’s Mark.
By the time you make it back to your dorm hall, you finally accept that it probably is just Mark. You shove that down though, suppress it. That would never happen.
You laugh to yourself, walking up the steps to the front entrance. Blaming all these ridiculous thoughts on your tipsy mind, you don’t hear someone calling out to you until they get closer.
You spin around, only to find Mark staring at you from the sidewalk. He looks out of breath, like he just ran here. He climbs the steps, two at a time and before you know it, he’s standing in front of you, winded and with a wild look in his eyes.
“Mark?” you ask, confusion evident in your tone, “What are you doing here?”
He’s still breathing heavy, and looking at you like he doesn’t even know the answer. “The girl- she- I don’t know, I can’t stop thinking about- and then-” he pauses, taking a deep breath, collecting his thoughts.
He tries again, “She wasn’t what I was looking for.”
Your eyebrows knit together, “Oh, so you want me to help again? I’m kinda tired-”
“No! No, I-” he cuts himself off again, “Jesus, I’m so bad at this. I finally got her all alone and it didn’t even matter. I didn’t feel like kissing her, or doing anything.”
“Why?” you ask quietly.
“She wasn’t you.”
You are startled at his words. Shell-shocked. You wonder if you already made it up to your dorm, and were fast asleep, dreaming up this whole situation.
He steps in front of you, taking your hands gently in his.
“I know we have fought for as long as I can remember.” he tells you, “But kissing you felt right. Tell me you didn’t feel the same. Tell me to stop and I’ll go; I’ll never speak to you again.”
“I-” you can’t find words as you watch him lean closer and closer.
Because the truth was, something about it did feel right.
“How much do you hate me?” He asks, tilting his head as you feel his breath dance across your lips.
“Not as much as I want to,” you whisper back, pressing your lips to his, letting the emotions of hate and anger flow away has he kisses you back.
You think back to the days of your adolescence, when your mother would tease you about your bickering with Mark, saying you acted like an old married couple, joking about how eventually the two of you would start dating. You used to think your mom was crazy. But now, with Mark leaning into you, and fireworks exploding in your chest, you wondered if she’s been right all along.
#got7 fanfic#got7#mark tuan x reader#mark tuan x you#mark x reader#mark x you#got7 scenario#got7 reaction#got7 drabble#mark drabble#fanfic#kpop#kpop fanfic#kpop fanfiction#got7 fanfiction#got7 mark#got7 college#college au#got7 imagines#mark tuan#mark tuan imagine#college!au#got7 college au#fuckboy mark#got7 x you#got7 x reader#female reader#my writing
499 notes
·
View notes
Text
It’s Party Time || Megan, Todd and Winston
When: before Megan Ariana got her name back.
Who: @letsbenditlikebennett, @itsyaboytodd & @danetobelieve
Where: an undisclosed college frat party
Summary: Winston takes Megan (aka Ariana) to a frat party that Todd is playing at, everyone has a good wholesome time.
Warnings: N/A
Nodding along to the beat, Todd pressed his fingers to the headphones around his ears, his other hand working the turntable. He could feel the beat pulsing through his shoes, the thrum of the party people getting more and more pumped with every song he dropped. It was fucking awesome. This was the shit he lived for. Sure, it was just a party for one of his old frat brothers, a party thrown because the local college students were bored and restless. But, it was still fun, just like all his other sets were fun. As the song began to end, he worked the soundboard, letting the mix come to an end to some cheers from the people who had gathered in the backyard where a dancefloor had been set up. “Alright, DJ DAYZE is stepping off for the night-- up next, RedStormz.” He said into the mic before setting about disconnecting his things and getting it all stowed away.
Once he was all packed up, Todd pulled his sweat soaked shirt over his head and grabbed a couple of beers from the cooler outside before he wandered off to find Winston and the friend they’d brought with them. Catching sight of Winston, he grinned and hurried over. “Winston! Bud, I feel like it’s been fucking years since I’ve seen you!” Todd grinned cracking open a beer and taking a drink before looking at the small girl next to them. “You’re Winston’s friend…. Uhhhh, sorry, I’m totally blanking on your name. I’m Todd, aka,” He pointed at the bucket hat on his head and the logo emblazoned on it, “DJ DAYZE!”
If there was something Megan could always count on, it was Winston doing the most to try and cheer her up. With the amount of stress she was currently under, they had the right idea when they invited her to join them at a party. After all, they could both use a little bit of fun in their lives. As per usual, she had texted Blanche a picture of her outfit to make sure it matched. Apparently, she looked cute and so did Winston. While Winston’s friend had been DJing, the pair had grabbed some drinks and Ariana all but insisted they made their way to the dancefloor. As always, she was filled with energy and the booming of the bass compelled her feet to move. She’d been thoroughly enjoying the experience and was only slightly bummed a new DJ was taking over. Still, it meant she could meet another one of Winston’s friends. She waved as Todd approached and laughed. He was blanking on her name which was fitting because so was she right now. “You’re all good, dude. I’m Megan. I don’t have an AKA, but if you call me any variation of short, I will have to kick your ass.”
It had been quite the month already. Winston hadn’t loved watching Blanche and Rio get love potioned, but that was done and now it was time for Winston to blow off a little steam. Ariana clearly needed it too, although they hadn’t been able to work out why she couldn’t remember her name. They were convinced it was fae related but these things took time to work out and for now she seemed like she needed the time off of the real world to just focus on how everything was working in her head. “Todd! Buddy it’s been literally forever.” They pulled their sweaty DJ friend into a tight hug and swallowed some of their own drink. They weren’t too drunk … yet. There was still time. But they were trying to keep on their best behaviour just in case they needed to step up to the proverbial plate. “Please no ass kickings tonight, let’s just all get a drink and have a good time.” Todd was a good DJ, apparently so was RedStormz. The bass thrummed and the room heaved to the beat of the music. Winston couldn’t help grinning. “Do we need more drinks? I can do drinks for everyone?”
Face all smiles, Todd gave Winston a few good natured slaps on the back as he hugged them. It was so good to be hanging with one of their best buds! He hadn’t seen Ricky around town at all and with most of his old brothers having moved out of White Crest. They were all headed down their new career paths at “investment firms” and “law offices” and “medical school.” Meanwhile, Todd was still here, still DJing, still hoping for his big break. But, it’d come! Lots of people thought his music was great! Like the girl he’d met at that party, she thought his music was amazing! Oh-- he’d have to tell Winston all about this chick he’d been talking to. She was so cool. “Nice to meetya, Megan. And hey, no ass-kickings needed. I’m a lover not a fighter. Gotta keep all this,” He gestured to his face, “Fresh for the ladies.” With a laugh, he held up his own beer. “I’m all good, thanks though.” Looking at Megan, he cast an easy going grin, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. You going to UMaine in the fall?” He asked.
Already, this was turning out to be exactly what she needed. Between the upbeat music filling the space around them and being around good people, Megan was already letting go of some of the worries that had been plaguing her. “No worries, I was only joking about the ass-kicking,” she responded with a laugh. At the mention of more drinks, she perked up. The drinks they had started with had already left her face feeling a little flushed, but she was feeling more relaxed than she had in weeks. “That sounds like a great idea, Win. I’m good with anything citrus-y.” Even though they were standing and chatting, she was swaying a bit to the music. It was a little bit loud given her sensitive hearing, but her hearing had the added bonus of still being able to hear what else was going on around her. If she paid attention, that was. She couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh yeah, wouldn’t want to ruin all of that, Ladies Man” She gestured to his face with a smirk present on her own. She nodded along with the mention of school, “Oh! So like, kind of? The trade school is attached to campus, but I’ll be doing a carpentry program there. What about you?”
Winston grabbed everyone more drinks as Ariana AKA Megan discussed their various studying prospects. They weren’t really sure that they had the heart to tell Megan that Todd wasn’t technically a student anymore, he would be able to explain that on his own. It wasn’t that Winston was worried about Todd, it was more that Winston was worried for Todd. They knew that everyone had to work out their own way and how things worked for them individually, but Winston wasn’t sure what Todd was going to do if the DJ thing didn’t work out. “She’s really good too,” Winston replied, “like a DJ equivalent of a carpenter, whilst you’re realising bop after bop, Ari- I mean Megan is releasing various intricately carved pieces of furniture.”
With an enthusiastic nod of his head, Todd smiled as he listened to Winston and Megan explain what she was going to be doing. Carpentry, making furniture and stuff like that. “That’s pretty dope, dude! You gonna be out here making like… the Mona Lisa of dressers or something? That’s lit!” At her question, he took a long drink from his can of Coors and shrugged. “I graduated two years ago, did a degree in music production.” He said and gestured to his packed up gear that was chilling off to the side while Redstormz did their thing. “I’m just kicking it here in White Crest til I get my big break-- if you liked my set, you should def check out my SoundCloud.” Todd said eagerly, pointing again to his bucket hat. “It’s just my name, there are a bunch of tracks I didn’t play tonight on there.” Todd gave a thumbs up. Never hurt to plug his music, but it did feel a little weird trying to market his stuff. He wasn’t good at the whole “selling yourself” side of music. He just wanted to make some jams that people liked, and fuel parties around the world. Or at least, around the state.
“Thanks,” Megan said cheerfully as Winston handed her a drink. She had to respect Todd really going after his music dreams. It wasn’t the easiest field to make it in, but she knew it was important to pursue something fulfilling. As much was why she opted for trade school over university. “I appreciate nature motifs a lot, so more like the Bob Ross of carpentry. Keep the whole happy little trees vibe,” she responded with a smile as she took a sip of her drink. “That’s totally cool that you’re in the music game for the long haul. Hope that big break comes soon. I’ll definitely be listening to your SoundCloud. I’m always looking for good stuff to add to my running playlists.”
Grinning, Winston nodded, “No problem.” Everything that had gone on recently was getting to Winston, so they needed to blow off some steam and to Todd’s credit they always went to the best parties with him. He seemed to have a knack for it. So Winston was hoping that this would be a night to remember and in a good way. “It’s actually really good, I listen to a lot of Todd’s stuff at work, really good for like getting in the right headspace I guess.” Winston wasn’t lying either. Todd wasn’t bad at this by any stretch of the imagination. “I don’t run, because, asthma, but I imagine they’d be pretty good for that.” They turned and looked at Todd, pushing their glasses up their nose from where they’d slipped down. “You playing any more venues soon?”
“Happy little trees, I dig it, I dig it.” Todd laughed and nodded at Megan. That was pretty dope though. The most he’d ever done was make the stickers and logos for his merch, and that was pretty basic stuff. A small rush of pride washed over him at Winston’s words. He had no idea that Winston listened to his stuff that consistently, but it felt good to hear that other people appreciated his stuff. Especially someone like Winston, who always seemed super on top of their stuff. “Yeah! My stuff is all about pumping people up. High energy, high intensity. A couple of my bros who work at the gym love listening to it, I’m really hoping they can convince their boss to let them play a song or two.” He said. Nodding sympathetically at Winston’s condition, Todd made a slight grimacing face. “That sucks, dude. But hey, like, as long as you’ve got your inhaler, you��re in the clear most days, right?” At the question, Todd balked and rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, not yet. Just playing at Friction, usual gig. But! The Todd Man’s had some luck in other departments.” He said, practically bouncing up and down on his heels. “I met this awesome chick. She’s so cool, dude, she totally supports my music career!”
Megan nodded along as Winston spoke and noted she’d definitely need to download his songs off soundcloud. Supporting a friend was always nice, but a good playlist could really help her zone out during a run. Lately, zoning out seemed to be more and more necessary. She threw back another swig of her drink before responding, “Between Winston’s rec and how much I enjoyed that set, I’m pretty sure my running playlist is about to get even more dope.” She shrugged slightly and added, “Running isn’t for everyone. I’ve just got too much energy for my own good like 90% of the time.” Todd had a good energy about him. He was very upbeat and seemed to be a genuinely good dude. She considered any friend of Winston’s a friend to her, even Rio, though right now she’d very much like to smack Rio. Nope, tonight was supposed to be a good night. No thinking about Rio. “Pumping people up, that’s pretty awesome of you. I like that. Right up my alley.” Megan noticed the slight change in demeanor, but for once, decided not to point it out. The alcohol was definitely starting to have its effect as she nodded along. With a wide grin, she assured, “Well, I’ll definitely be hitting up any future sets you do. I’ll be the one rallying everyone to the dancefloor.” At the mention of meeting an awesome woman, she smiled. While her own love life was an actual disaster, it was refreshing to hear someone was having luck out there. “A dope chick? Good for you, man. My luck in that department is not a lot so do dish.”
Ariana had a way of making everything sound better, happy little trees being just a single example of it. “Oh dude, that would be some dope exposure.” Winston was thrilled that things were apparently going so well for Todd. They felt kind of guilty that they had neglected their ‘normal’ friend. But when you’re constantly trying not to die because of supernatural bullshit, when you’re constantly trying to work to stop White Crest from imploding and everything else that had happened in the past few months. From witches to vampires to zombies to werewolves. Well remembering to pay your friends who have no idea about any of it attention is always difficult. It’s difficult to prioritise them in the same way and Winston felt like Todd was owed better then that. But they could always make up for that, right? “Oh yeah, I’ve always got my inhaler with me,” Winston replied patting their jacket pocket where it was indeed kept. “Oh hell yeah dude, I’m so pleased that you’ve got a girl who’s interested in the T-man. She obviously got good taste, especially if she supports the music!!” Winston’s mind flashed to Rio and to their brief engagement to Blanche. Not their favourite memory ever but they pushed it away. “You comfortable telling us more about this woman of mystery or are you keeping it on the D.L for now?”
This Megan chick was cool. Like, super cool! How’d Winston meet someone this dope? Not that Todd didn’t think Winston was cool in their own way-- they were so fricking baller with their coding stuff and explaining math to him back in their tutoring days. But, Megan seemed athletic, more of a people person, which was a different kinda cool from Winston. “Yeah! You’ll definitely have to let me know how you like it.” He said with an enthusiastic grin and a wave of the hang loose gesture at her. At Winston’s wholehearted support, Todd’s face almost hurt he was smiling so much. But, he waved their words away. “We’re trying to like keep it chill right now, just because like, she’s kind of a cougar? So like… we’re just on the DL. But, damn, she’s so cool. Like, seriously, she’s amazing.” At Megan’s words, he offered a sympathetic nod before tilting his head back to chug his beer. “That sucks, dude. I get what that’s like though. Dating is hard. Like, sometimes people are just too busy for it, ya know?” He chattered as he took another sip of beer. “One time, there was this super hot chick I chatted up at a bar. And like, we went back to my place and I totally thought we were gonna hook up. But, when we got inside, she was like “oh no, I’ve gotta go!” and had to leave to take care of some stuff.” Todd shrugged. “So, like, I feel you bro. Seriously.”
It was comforting for Megan to know that Winston always had their inhaler on hand. Given they were pretty damn responsible so it made sense. She and Winston both eagerly listened along as Todd told them about the dope new chick he started seeing. While the cougar thing was a little odd to Ariana, especially given how young and full of energy Todd seemed to be, it was awesome he had someone who was supporting his passion for music. Dating wasn’t necessarily her arena just yet, but she knew it was important to have someone who supported who you were and your dreams. There was something almost familiar in the way Todd spoke, but as she took another sip of her drink, she gave up on trying to place it. “That’s awesome, dude. She sounds hella cool and supportive. I hope you two continue being happy together,” she responded with a wide grin. She shrugged at the brief focus on her own love life. “Yeah, I’m not too worried about it. I’ll eventually find someone that’s right for me.” It was hard to shake the feeling that she already had but he was in grave danger. The thought was enough to make her finish off her drink. “Damn, that’s a buzzkill, but sounds like you found someone better anyway,” she added with a loopy grin.
Winston wasn’t sure that any women older then the age of 25 years old would particularly like being called a cougar, they also seriously questioned whether Todd being with a cougar was a smart idea. But in this they had to trust their friend. Even if his judgement hadn’t been entirely perfect in the past. “Oh that is ….” Winston tried to think of the right word, failing that they went with the easiest, “really cool. I’m super happy for you. Dating is always kinda shitty if you’re not with the right person, I’m glad it’s going so well.” Winston wondered if this super cool chick would’ve bounced so quickly if they’d gone back to her place, Todd’s place was incredibly … frat. “It’s a harsh world out there, you’ve got to protect your heart.” Literally apparently. Metaphorically too. It was, well White Crest seemed to be getting more and more complicated by the day. Winston was starting to really struggle to keep up with it all. “And, you know that there’s no rush right, sometimes spending time on your own helps you realise what you really want from something or someone or whatever,” Winston was sure that being single for 24 years must have done some good for them. Though they weren’t entirely certain what that was.
Grin still plastered on his face, Todd could barely contain how pleased he was. Winston was in their corner on this, which was like, one of the big seals of approval in Todd’s book. He really wanted to introduce her to his friends one day, but she’d been really like, insistent that they keep things chill and under the radar. And he could totally do that! But, still, he wanted to make sure his buds knew. And that included Megan now! She was a super dope chick, with her cool furniture Bob Ross gig lined up. “Thanks, forreal!” He beamed, though the expression faltered slightly at Winston’s words. Spending time on his own? Nah… No, he didn’t dig that. Like, outside of when he was working on his new tracks, being on his own-- that wasn’t something he wanted. He wanted to be where the people were, putting his fingers on the pulse of what was going on around him. Draining the last of his beer, Todd flattened the empty can against his head before chucking it into the overflowing trash can nearby with a cry of, “Kobe!” Looking at Megan, he offered two thumbs up, “You’ve got time, dude. Like Winston said, nothing wrong with being on your own for a little, ya know?” He said before tilting his head at Winson, “What about you, how’s things been going for you?”
Tonight had turned out to be exactly what Megan had needed. Between the loud music, her friends, and the fuzzy feeling the alcohol left her with, all of her stress seemed far away from her now. It was nice to hear that Todd’s love life seemed to be treating him well. She hoped the same was true for Winston and Rio now that the love potion was no longer a thing. With Ace in the back of her mind, she refused to truly contemplate her own love life. “You got the harsh part right on that one,” she said with a laugh. “Everyone has their own timeline though,” she added with a shrug. Her own timeline was a little behind most, but she spent so much time moving around it had been hard to form close bonds. Things were different now. She still wanted someone who could accept her fully-- wolf and all. Anything else seemed not worth it. As Todd threw his beer into a trash can and yelled out Kobe. She followed up with her own drink, “This bitch empty. YEET!” Her empty cup was now on top of the trash can and she turned to Winston so she could listen as they answered Todd’s question. She was curious for the answer as well. She hadn’t been over the house as much since she’d been mad at Rio.
Whatever happened in their life, Winston had to admit that they would be grateful to have Rio in it for just as long as he stayed in their life. The potential loss of Rio was not something that they wanted to discuss, but it wasn’t a thought that they relished. “Uh, yeah, i’ve got a boyfriend right now, my friend, well I guess boyfriend Rio, or Orion, I don’t know if he introduces himself to everyone as Rio but…” Winston couldn’t help but smile, Rio was the best, “he’s great, he really makes me feel … I don’t know, what I assume that you’re meant to feel when you’re in a relationship but yeah he’s special to me.” Winston grinned at Megan or Ariana or whatever they were calling her. “I guess I’m just really lucky.”
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Take Me Away
Chapter One: Vacation, All I Ever Wanted
Summer - Four Months Earlier
My grandma confided in me when I was a little girl that we are never to overestimate or believe that everyone is inherently good. We were all born with goodness within us, but we were also born with another side that can sometimes fester for too long because we allow others to see the good and not the other. And when we finally release our alter egos, all the energy we kept to hide ourself is released. That’s when people see you are not the goody-two-shoes, squeaky-clean, practically-perfect-in-everyway-Mary Poppins-good. You’ve got a little Voldemort in you too.
See, I was a dreamer. I had these fantasies growing up, these story ideas or wishes that I’d act out in my head and pray would eventually come true. But life isn’t made to be easy, we’re not served what we desire on a silver platter. Rather we have to work for it, keep up the work, and continue working till our last breath. It’s not exactly the creme de la creme you see in movies, plays, tv shows. In fact I was severely let down in my late teens and early college days when I realized that animals won’t follow me around like Snow White, and really nice genuine guys come to sweep you off your feet.
Peyton Craft I’m talking to you — you ruined romance for me. And not just because you made me pay for our dinner date because you “forgot your wallet but not your ID at home” and then sloppily kissed me outside your Theta Chi frat house. You just gave me the creeps and copied off my English tests. Good riddance and I hope you find someone who doesn’t mind you grappling off their wallet like you probably still hold on to your mother . . . Shots fired but who gives a shit?
So back to the basics: never believe in what you hope or dream. Well I shouldn’t say it blatantly like that. More so, what I’m trying to say is that when you have these certain ideas or ways that your life or something in your life will play out, remember that idea is the .00099 percent chance it will actually happen or work. Same goes for romance. Or your idols and those people you adored when you were younger and didn’t know them.
The minute I finished college, I went straight to grad school. In my entire family, I was the first to graduate higher education. And it wasn’t because my family was dumb, or didn’t have the grades — okay maybe the odd few were that way — but really it came down to the fact they just didn’t want to go. They didn’t have that drive or passion to spend thousands of dollars or even win a scholarship to continue four more years on top of another couple years doing school when in fact they could be living up their lives at the old saloon bar in downtown Petaluma. Also, snobby students weren’t their cup of tea or should I say whiskey. I was the black sheep of my family. But graduating college, then grad school made me feel like I could accomplish anything in the world.
On the day of graduation, my parents bestowed me with the most stunning surprise of my life. A roundtrip four weeks spent in the lovely country of Italy; where I would tour the country from north to south, east to west. I wasn’t entirely sure how they were able to scrounge up the money they had to afford the trip, but it was something they knew I’d been dying to do. I was an Literature major and Art minor after all. Italy was one of the main countries which held both in high esteem. So there I was, holding the “golden ticket”, asking when I would be leaving which turned out to be two days later. And it was just about the moment I was going to lose it when mom pulled out grandma’s old beachcombing device and handed it off to me as if it were the scepter of a queen.
“If she were here, she’d given it to you. I know how you two loved to discover together. She’d want you to have it and use it on the trip. No doubt you’ll find some treasures there of your own!”
I wasn’t one to typically cry but this got to me. Holding grandma’s detector and about to lose it. Ever since I’d been little we would comb through the sand and grassy dunes of Bodega Bay, looking for little treasures or collectables. Grandma’s house was adorned in them, and whatever she found, she held dear. Call her a hoarder, but it was the healthy kind. She made stuff with the objects and knick knacks she found, creating beautiful jewelry, or intricate decor pieces. Each wound up being a better treasure than when it was first discovered because she made it beautiful.
So to say in the least, I was thrilled and emotionally compromised. I mean who surprises you with a last minute trip to Italy? Not many people, that I’m sure of. And for the next couple of days, I was floating around in a eternal bliss; from packing to not sleeping a wink at night. I was thrilled, ecstatic, and most of all, elated. No more essays and exams to worry about, just merely getting to the boot shaped country was my only obligation.
There was a bus I took from home in Rohnert Park that drove me to the city. For any of you non-Californians “the city” means San Francisco if you’re from the north of the state. If you live in SoCal, it’s Los Angeles. Rohnert Park is nestled in Sonoma county and just outside of wine county in Napa Valley. It’s approximately and hour north of the city and notorious for its ridiculous traffic when the 101 transforms from four lanes to two. Thankfully, the bus to the San Francisco airport was early in the morning. So in the early hours of June 5th, I sleepily made my way to the bus located new the expressway and waved goodbye to my parents and two year old niece who — like me — couldn’t sleep whenever something exciting was about to happen.
And just like that, I was on my way. In all honesty, I slept for the majority of the bus and flight. Surprisingly, there was no layover, in fact it was a straight shot to the Florence airport where upon arrival, I went through customs then searched the arrivals gate for the specific tour company my parents had signed me up for. The tour would start in Florence and go straight to the coast to Lido Di Camaiore where we would be staying in a beach resort for five days. After, we’d be taken back into Florence for four days, followed by the long drive up to Rome, eventually Venice, and then to Milan where the tour would end.
The tour company was run by an expatriate from Kentucky. With unkempt curly brown hair, and the Italian tan already shining on her skin, Kimmy Slant was the epitome of a tour guide. She wore khaki cargo shorts, a crew neck tank top with the tour company logo, and a bucket hat. She waved chaotically as me and other tired tourists slowly made their way over to where she stood. Once she called attendance and made sure everyone was here, she was squealing with delight as she led us out to the tour bus.
“Alright folks! Hop aboard the fun bus! It’s about an hour drive to Lido Di Camaiore! Paradise is close, but lets face it, you’re already here!”
We piled into the bus which fit approximately twenty-eight people if you squeezed and sat two to a row. I got my own seat since there was only twenty-seven. And as the bus pulled out of the pickup zone of the airport, I pressed my face against the glass to ogle at the life that seemed to surround me. I ignored the humidity that permeated the bus air. As other tourists waved fans in front of their faces, I continued to be in awe of where I was.
Tiny cars zipped by us on the freeway. Vespas and motorcycles, even the plain bike were seen zig zagging in-between the traffic like any normal day. Golden grass billowed up on hills melding into the brush of trees and vineyards which seemed to climb further up the hills that kept us in a small little valley. I yearned to stop the bus, let myself get off and run through the vineyards barefoot. But I forced myself to enjoy the ride, reveling in the nature, the culture, and the small glimpse of Italy I could see.
One hour later we were driving into the coastal town of Lido Di Camaiore. Kimmy had begun speaking to the tourists on the bus who were swiveling their heads around looking at everything they could see from the bus. It wasn’t until we pulled into the main entrance of the hotel we were staying at that my jaw dropped.
I lowered my sunglasses, gazing out to the crystal waters where the waves lapped up onto the white beach sandy shores. How could Northern Italy be so perfectly tropical? And with the majestic mountains in the back, I felt like there was a perfect combination of both beach and forest.
The hotel we were staying at was one of the best in the town. Casa Reale di Lido was a five star hotel with ground access to the beach and many other amenities. I was shocked that Kimmy could partner with such an extravagant place but once we all were leaving the bus she was throwing her arms around one of the managers who had come out to greet us. With an impressed nod, I grabbed my bags and followed the rest of my group into the luxurious lobby of the hotel, ogling at all the beautiful chandeliers and pieces of furniture which adorned the lobby and even gave way to the outdoor bar and restaurant in the back which showed a beautiful view of the beach.
“Your room keys are all ready for you to pick up! Just visit the front desk and give your name and that you’re part of the Kimmy tour! We’ll be planning on meeting up in the evening once you’re all settled in and make way for our plans here in Lido!” Kimmy was bubbly, holding on to the manager’s arm as she came into the lobby with us. She seemed to be holding on to him extra tight and her cheeks had heated up to a soft red. After retrieving my keys to the room, I grabbed my things and walked over to the elevator.
“Room 512,” I spoke to myself as I pressed the “up” button. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone standing behind me. The elevator dinged just as the doors opened and I pulled my luggage inside, the man following suit. He was carrying a small bag but already wore a slim fitting suit which resembled a soft blue-grey color. He was browsing his phone, but something made him familiar to me. I couldn’t pin point it . . .
But then it all hit me. I froze in place, eyes widening.
It was Aaron Tveit. TV, movie and most of all the prince of Broadway! I’d spent my teen years and college years swooning over his performances and the way he sang every song so perfectly that sometimes I felt he sang it better than the original. My girlfriends would tease me about my “little crush” and ask why it wasn’t someone like Channing Tatum or Chris Evans. Don’t get me wrong, those were so good-looking dudes, but none of them set my heart fluttering like I had some arrhythmia.
As the elevator took us up, I tried to remain calm. I took normal breaths, attempting to remain calm as I looked straight ahead at the doors. I saw the number go up, wondering if I’d have the guts to say something by the time we got to his or my floor. But it all happened so quickly. The elevator dinged on the 4th floor and when the doors opened he left quickly, not even looking up from his phone.
At that moment I sighed; partially in relief but also in defeat. I couldn’t say one thing. Not even “beautiful weather on the coast”. Nope. I was too much like a fish with my mouth open in a perfectly shaped “O” and my eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. I forced myself to leave the small confines of the elevator for my room and trudged down the hall. Maybe it was the jet lag which was beginning to get to me. Maybe it was making me seem awkward and less of myself. Either way as I entered into my room, the air conditioner set and blowing cool air to relax my sweaty skin, I forgot about Aaron Tveit and leaped for my bed where I fell asleep for another four solid hours.
Of course as I was drifting off to sleep, he briefly came into mind.
We were both in Italy, staying in the same hotel. There’s not a doubt in my mind I would see him again. I had just better up my game.
__________
Let me know if you’d like to join the taglist! Hope you enjoyed the first chapter:) The tension will begin in the next chapter ;) - Holly
Taglist:
#Aaron Tveit#aaron tveit imagine#aaron tveit au#aaron tveit fanfiction#aaron tveit fanfic#hollybio#holly mae#Holly's writing#holly's masterlist
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bad For You 17/28
Pairing: Howie Stark x Reader
Warning: Fuckboy manners. Violence. Reader gets cheated on. Language. Lies. Flirting. Cattiness. Arguing. A few slaps. Sassiness. Slutty boys. Frat Boy bullshit.
A/N: College AU. For my sister, cause I finally gave in. Haha.
“You don’t know me like that.”
“Mmm bet I do, baby girl. You want a bad boy who will be good for only you. I’m that guy. Like I want a good girl who’s bad for only me. That’s you, baby girl.”
Howie Stark made one hell of an impression. It started off with mistaken identity. A hand on your ass, your hand across his cheek. What should have pissed him off, set him off differently. Howie Stark is enticed by you and you are so fucked.
Bad boy, never afraid of a fight, such a smooth talker, womanizer, and always on your mind. It just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right, you have a boyfriend. Howie’s making everything’s a little blurry. You’re a little cynical and bad boys just aren’t your type. Or could that change with a flash of Howie’s crooked grin?
Tag List Is Open!!
It was the first big, big party, since he and Y/N started dating. Music vibrates the house, people packed into the big ass Frat house. He’d been making the rounds, while looking for her, but so far he had no idea what she even came as. They didn’t do the whole couples costumes, the guys had picked theirs when they announced the party. The girls apparently had their own idea for the night as well.
Buck wades through the people towards him. They dressed as old school robbers, black beanie hats, black jeans with black and white stripped long sleeves. They each had a pouch, Steve, Clint and Peter had the largest, and Howie, Buck and Sam carried smaller ones. They were out to rob hearts, only Howie was going for one and only one.
“You seen the girls?” Clint laughs when Buck joins them.
“My girl?” Howie lifts a brow.
“Fuck yeah and her girls.” Clint laughs.
“No, why? Where are they?” Howie’s brow pulls down.
“Look for the signs.” Clint announces, walking away.
“The fuck?” Bucky looks over at him.
“Head for the kitchen.” Howie laughs, starting towards their kitchen.
“How.” Steve laughs. “Come look at this.” He waves them over.
They manage to get to Steve, he points into the crowd. Four girls, dressed similar, but different colors. Oversized button downs, pressed colored shorts, and knee high socks. They’re wearing ball caps turned backwards, and two of them are wearing loose ties.
On the back of their shirts are what look like big stickers. Shaped like text message bubbles. Each has something different printed on it.
“You’re the only one I talk too, promise.”
“Come over baby.” -3AM
“Send Nudes.”
“I’ll make you see God baby.”
The three of them laugh loudly. Howie scraps his hand down his face, shaking his head. His girlfriend has “Send Nudes” on the back of her shirt. Honestly it was probably the best costume he’d seen.
“Are they fuckboys?” Buck laughs.
“Frat boys?” Steve asks.
“Should we be offended?” Howie laughs.
“How.” Peter appears next to them.
“You see the girls?” He asks his brother.
“Mhm.” Peter nods but isn’t looking away from the girls.
“What?” Howie chuckles.
“Who’s the red head?” Peter asks, jerking his chin towards the girls.
“I think that’s MJ? She’s in their study group.” Howie shrugs.
“Anyone know her?” Peter wonders.
“Want me to introduce you?” How lifts a brow.
“I mean,” Peter scoffs, shrugging. He drops his gaze looking down.
“Come on, Mr. Smooth.” Howie laughs, heading for the girls. When he reaches them he laughs. “Should we be offended by your choice of costumes?” He asks. Y/N laughs, reaching up to kiss him. She’s dressed in teal shorts and a blue button down.
“The former you should be.” She smirks.
“Damn what’s that mean for the rest of us?” Peter laughs.
“Shape the fuck up.” Nat laughs.
“MJ, right?” Howie asks, putting his hand out to the red head. She runs red in the cheeks.
“Yeah. I know who you are.” She laughs a little.
“Well, how about my brother? Peter, MJ. She apparently knows me.” Howie grins at his brother.
“Who doesn’t know the Stark brothers.” MJ admits with a flush.
“Well you have me at a loss than.” Peter grins at her.
“Why?” She blinks green eyes at him.
“Cause you know me, and I don’t know you.” Peter flashes her a grin. Y/N’s mouth opens, Howie slips his hand over it. Her eyes cut up to his, glaring. He winks at her, she rolls her eyes.
“If it helps, they’re not flattering things. So maybe it’s only fair.” MJ smirks, she finishes what’s in her orange solo cup. “I’m getting another. I’ll find you.” She locks eyes with Y/N.
“Whoa, that’s just rude. I might not be what you hear.” Peter points out.
“Or you might be that whole, ‘Come over baby.’ At three in the morning.” She laughs, slipping into the crowd. Peter’s head drops back and rolls to the side, looking at him and Y/N.
“Bro.” Howie smirks.
“Damn.” Peter winces.
“Since when do Stark’s not chase down the poor girl?” Y/N snorts, taking a drink. Peter and Howie exchange the same look.
“Proceed to chase brother.” Howie laughs.
“I’m offended by your costume, but give me something, please?” Peter grins at Y/N.
“Peter, she sassed you and walked. She’s waiting to see if you’re up for the chase. Run bitch.” Y/N waves him off. Peter does exactly that, pushing into the crowd.
“Wait, you sassed me and walked away.” Howie looks down at her.
“Yes but you assaulted me first. I wasn’t looking for you to chase after me.” Y/N snorts.
“Still won you over.” He grins at her. She laughs, her fingers grip the front of his shirt.
“Come on, I need another drink and I swear this costume was not meant to get me this much attention.” She grins.
“Well damn, told you.” He puts his arm over her shoulders. Heading for the other end of the kitchen.
“What?”
“You’re always hot as fuck.” He laughs.
She leans against the counter waiting, while he filled both their glasses. When he looks over, there are a few girls approaching her. He pauses watching, waiting. She smirks when they get close enough to talk to her.
“So it’s true. You and Howie?” The one asks.
“If you’re asking if we’re dating. Yes, it’s true.” She laughs a little.
“You really managed to tame a Screw Crew member?” Another asks.
“I guess, so.” She shrugs, but a smile on her lips.
“How did you do it?” The other asks, overly interested. He steps up behind them.
“She slapped me.” He smirks when all three turn looking up at him with wide eyes and ajar mouths. He hands her cup to her. Keeping his hand out for hers. “Have a good Halloween ladies.” He chuckles, pulling her away with him.
“You’re like a God to them.” She laughs.
“No. You’re a God to them, baby girl.” He winks at her. “You managed to do the one thing nobody thought was possible.” He shrugs.
“Tame a Screw Crew member?” She asks.
“Fuck being tamed. My ass is hopelessly devoted to you. I didn’t think twice about giving up my ways. I had already given them up the day you slapped me. I didn’t even notice till the guys pointed it out.” He leans down kissing her quickly.
“Howie!” Clint calls standing on the bottom step to the upstairs. His eyes cut up, Howie takes notice of Peter and Steve pushing in from other rooms. The four of them exchange a look, something happened.
“I’ll be back. Find the girls, stay put and go easy till I get back.” He orders her. She nods slowly, looking confused, he takes off. Pushing through the people, to the stairs.
“We have a big fucking problem.” Clint hisses, when the four of them are together.
“What?” Peter asks. A cold chill rips through Howie as his gut lurches.
“Someone broke into the office.” Clint explains.
“Fuck.” The three of them whisper. Everyone shoving as they rush up the stairs.
They stumble into the office, Bucky and Sam already in there.
“Anything missing?” Howie asks.
“Desk was cracked open.” Buck holds up the notebooks.
“This is fucking bad.” Peter scraps his hands down his face.
“Are any of them missing?” Steve asks.
“No they’re all here. But that doesn’t mean someone didn’t take photos or copies.” Sam shakes his head.
“How do we know they fucked with the notebooks?” Howie asks, fear licked his veins and a cold sweat breaks out on the back of his neck.
“They’re all out of order.” Clint explains. “They’re stacked according to person. The drawers been broken open and they were just tossed around like they were looking for certain ones.”
“This is really bad guys.” Peter’s hand grips the back of his neck.
“That’s serious blackmail.” Steve looks around.
“I gotta find Y/N.” Howie mutters shoving out of the room.
---------------------
Everything Peaches 9/3/19
@mo320
@courtmr
@avxgers
@eliza-kat
@irepeldirt
@jordan-ia
@jcc04220
@dumblani
@nishanki1
@allyp1023
@joannie95
@rogvewitch
@rileyloves5
@sarahp879
@sexyvixen7
@doctoranon
@queentoffee
@abschaffer2
@tony-stank3
@tomhardy41
@bookluver01
@teller258316
@nickimarie94
@wandressfox
@cutekittybast
@amandab-ftw
@carostar2020
@thelostallycat
@henrietteoaks
@nea90sweetie
@circusofchaos
@bettercallsabs
@miraclesoflove
@queenkrissy11
@shield-agent78
@elite4cekalyma
@sadyoungadult
@destiel-artemis
@isabelcrichards
@iwillbeinmynest
@sweet-honey15
@scooby-doodoo
@chanelmadrid13
@killerbumblebee
@spookygrantaire
@geeksareunique
@supernatural508
@itzmegaaaaaaan
@optimistic-babes
@elizabethaellison
@rainbowkisses31
@aspiringtranslator
@mariekoukie6661
@pure-princess-97
@capsheadquaters
@youclickedthislink
@futuremrsb-r-main
@lovemarvelousfics
@notyourtypicalrose
@petersunderoos96
@loving-life-my-way
@itsy-bitsy-spidergirl
@buckystolemyheart
@booktvmoviefangirl
@thatpeachybandgirl
@supernatural-girl97
@thefridgeismybestie
@dumbbitchenergytm
@eggingamazinglove
@deathofmissjackson
@awkwardfangirl2014
@queenoftheunderdark
@laneygthememequeen
@writingaworldofmyown
@shann-the-artist-moon
@supernaturallover2002
@daughterofthenight117
@mcuwillbethedeathofme
@verymuchclosetedfangirl
@for-the-love-of-the-fandom
@ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan
@crazy-little-thing-called-buck
@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked
@stupendoussciencenaturepanda
@supernatural-strangerthings-1980
Howie 'Damn Boy' Stark:
@gabile18
@crayonwriting
@callme-barnes
@untoasted-ravioli
BFY:
@sfreeborn
@coley0823
@lakamaa12
@amberdawn-01
@honey-bee-holly
@intricate-melody
@itsmejessicasstuff
@badassbeckettswan
#Marvel#OFC!Howie Stark x Reader#Avengers#OFC!Howie x Reader#Bad For You#Marvel Fanfiction#OFC!Howie Stark Series#Avengers Fanfiction#OFC!Howie Series
187 notes
·
View notes
Text
A one sided revelation || Luke & Jared
Timing: A while ago
Location: Hardware store
Tagging: @lucastheunlucky & @themidnightfarmer
Description: A reunion, in which one party figures out a few secrets.
Triggers: none?
Jared was in for a real set back in his bank account. Not only had he bought a rather expensive beast from a guy he barely knew, but that beast had also required a few things to get comfortable on the farm. A few very expensive things. And even after that Jared had gained some houseguests. He wasn’t living a very budget friendly lifestyle so to speak, so the one thing that perhaps shouldn't have been suffering was going to have to suffer for the moment. He eyed the more expensive, stronger gate locks and mechanisms with a heavy heart. He was going to have a few very long nights until he sold his next crop watching the gates. Lifting the smaller cheaper lock into his hands he turned abruptly and recognised the man down the aisle with a jolt of realization. A smile slid onto his face and he called out, “Hey Luke!”
Luke’s heart jolted, mind immediately racing to who said that?! Hearing his name called anywhere always startled him a little, Gotch put that in him though, and he needed to break that bad habit. He’s not in deep hiding anymore, even if he was risking quite a lot walking around during the day after four, almost five years not being able to. Turning around and seeing Jared, grown up more, and smiling made Lucas’ insides melt at seeing an old face. One from childhood always stirred old memories. “Ah, man. Look at you. Still cute and shit--” he grinned back, and walked over to slap his hand. Lucas juggled his items into a bucket he was buying, and set it on the ground. “Are you in town? I didn’t realize it.”
Luke was Luke, and no matter the time that had passed he was the same guy, it was good to see. At least on the surface that Jared could observe, Luke was the same as he’s always been. “I’ll forever be adorable.” Jared agreed with a laugh and a dramatic brush of his hand through nonexistent hair around his shoulders. “Never left, just been too busy to traverse the shops at regular people times, get things delivered to the farm directly now. It’s for the best, my livestock keep me on my toes.” Jared grinned. “I was gone for the last two winters though, went...soul searching I guess.” he explained. “But what about you bud? How’ve you been! Feels like the last time I saw you was at a party at Martins house before graduation.”
“Same, I’m always up very early,” Luke agreed, leaving out the hiding part. He forgot Jared had a farm, and something in the back of his head wondered which one. “Soul searching-- I get that. I do that shit almost every month in the woods, just bum it out with a tent, fire, and myself and nature. Sometimes it’s necessary to get out of town.” At the mention of the party long, long ago Luke had to huff a laugh. “Shit, yeah. I think so. It feels like another life doesn’t it? High school was easy comparatively. They don’t exactly tell you that being an adult comes with so much stuff to worry about. Did you go to his funeral a while back? It was a nice service.”
“It really takes you places that’s for sure.” Jared grinned, his own soul searching the first time had been a migration following a local Kerashag towards canada, it had been a very informative trip, and much like Luke described his own being. “A lot of camping and not much else is good for the heart.” The reminder of the not so fun part of being from town hit then when Luke mentioned Martins untimely death. “I missed it, I was working and couldn’t get the time off. I dropped off some flowers graveside though the day after.” Jared shoved his hands in his pockets with a grim face, he’d been unable to go to the funeral due to encouraging the beast that had mauled Martin to leave. An uncomfortable reality of his life, that one. “Heard his older sister gave the eulogy?”
“Mhm, yeah. She did well--” Luke has gone to so many funerals in his life that some of them blurred together. It wasn’t awkward but more a reflective moment. That graduation party years ago had been pretty fun, and Jared did look well all things considered. Usually running into a familiar face came with him darting out of the picture, but today he could stand here and talk for a second, the change Luke was thankful for. “Yo, where is your farm at? I know there are a few right? Around here? Must be hard with the Maine weather-- you do crops or cattle?”
“I’m the one in the outskirts, edge of the forest. Though not many travel far enough down the dirt path to actually reach my gates, you know? Bit too far for most.” And Jared couldn’t help but think that was truly for the best. His ‘livestock’ were not usually the kind to take intruders lightly. “Got a small greenhouse, but I’m mostly an animal man. Carried on my parents livestock.” It wasn’t technically a lie considering he HAD kept the real cattle for a while, but Jared still felt bad omitting the whole truth. “I free range them all in together, so I’m not really an easily visited place. But that’s fine by me, most people don’t treat my kids right.” He tries to joke. But there’s an edge to it, a memory of a recent fuck up he was still healing over. One of his kids still had bandages on from being let out by someone. Someone who had yet to be identified.
Lucas worried the edge of his lip, and thought immediately-- ‘oh, shit. Jared you have the monster beasts?!’ Luke wasn’t surprised with any development involving supernatural anything, having grown up here, it was a perk of living in chaos while the humans got hurt, died, and well-- lived their best lives in the dark on such things. Luke nodded as Jared continued to explain and Luke, well he was the one killing those beasts off. They were so fun to chase through the woods, and satisfying on the stomach under the full moon. ‘Whoops.’ he thought, and tilted his head in a puppy dog way. “Why you looking at these locks? They ain’t going to do much for you with cattle right,” ‘especially not a werewolf. Shit Jared, what in the world.’ “Yo, I’d love to see the place sometime, you working alone though? Seems like a lot of work for one person.”
Jared mirrored Lukes tilt of his head unconsciously, still trying to keep smiling. His mind had to move fast when Luke asked about the locks but decided maybe the truth was better in this situation. No one would assume he farmed anything but cattle after all, he was safe enough. “Someone has been tampering with my gates, and since my herd is all free range and stuff it’s not so good. A bull of mine escaped not long ago and went to a frat party, and then I think a bear got to him.” Jared tells Luke, his face falling at the admission. Despite it being sabotage of some kind the nymph still held himself responsible. They were his kids, and he’d not found Hayhay in time. “Yeah I work the place alone, got some housemates at the moment but they don’t help out on the farm. I manage fine.” He actively ignored the wish to come over, it just wasn’t safe for humans, humans that didn’t know what was going on at least. He hoped Luke wouldn’t notice.
“A frat party? Wow-- did it come back with a bong hat attached?” Lucas asked, and as Jared continued it was obvious that this all bothered him. Luke pressed his lips together, unsure how to admit or say such a thing without exposing things. Better off just pretending it didn’t happen, and not do anything more. “Hey--” he shoved Jared lightly when his mood seemed melancholy, “seriously, if you need help just ask. I’m pretty strong, and Ill hull some stuff for you if you ever need it, alright? No need to shoulder everything-- I be telling my employees this shit everyday, it’s like the younger generation doesn’t hear it enough. Do I gotta rope you into them?” He teased, “also, I own this pizza shop in downtown, called Yum!Pizzeria-- you should stop by. I only do lunch so I can have the evenings free.” Luke did notice how he didn’t bring up coming over, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t try again later.
“Spoke to a partygoer, he smashed out of the glass door apparently.” Jared cringed. “He’s only a baby, shouldn’t have been at a frat party with all that alcohol.” he tried to joke to cover up his discomfort with the idea. It was a mystery how the frat had managed to get the bies safely into their dorm when the beast was most certainly not ‘friendly’ in any definition of the word. Then again he was just a baby. Easily bribed. “Oh sure lump me in with the ‘kids’ just because your birthday is coming up old man.” the nymph joked. Jared perked up further when Luke spoke about his own business. “Hey! A pizza place!! That’s great bud! You’re looking at your new most frequent customer.” Jared reached out and playfully punched the other in the arm. “You’ll never be rid of me,” he grinned.
The joke was so poor that it was actually kinda funny, even if he’s surprised it didn’t hurt anyone. When Jared compliment him and made such a declaration it felt like he wasn’t turning thirty one, and instead nineteen. Seeing anyone he knew when he was a kid stirred the inner playfulness in him, and he couldn’t help but really wonder how many of his friends back then knew more about the supernatural than any admitted. His mother always made sure Lucas was quiet about it at all costs, not that he needed reminding with Gotch bothering him back then. “Oh yeah?” Lucas wanted to ask him to promise, but Regan had really put the scare in him over such a word and tried not to use it anymore. “I will hold you to too it-- plus, I still really want to see the farm sometime. Don’t think I didn’t notice you leaving that open. But no pressure, if you are the shy type now-- I won’t hold it against you too much.” Luke teased and grabbed his things. “You still shopping? What else you looking for?”
Jareds smile turned sheepish when he was called out on ‘forgetting’ to address the wishes to come over and see the farm. But he grasped onto the excuse he was given by Luke and ran with it quickly. “Hold me to it all you like, you’ll be sick and tired of me so fast. Ah...the farm isn’t that special. Cows and fields and nothing all that interesting. I’m no pizza place.” Jared tried to distract the other, bringin the conversation back around to Luke himself. “Mostly just the locks, some spray paint as well, but I couldn’t see any in this isle.”
“Fine, fine,” he waved lightly, “but I can not possibly, be sick of you. No way. Especially now that we ran into each other. I’m-- the one who is going to annoy the hell out of you.” Luke glanced at the locks and had to wonder which one was actually the most ‘werewolf’ proof, even if he’d stop pulling from there on the full moon from now on. Jared should probably have a decent one. He’d have to ask Miles. “Maybe some chain with a lock would be better?” He asked, “and I’m here for a bunch of random shit for the pizzeria. Want to have a hardware drawer just in case something breaks.” Luke made it seem like he’d walk with Jared for the rest of their shopping needs, and when they checked out, he pulled out his phone. “Dude, here,” he handed his phone over. “Give me your number, and we will hang out or go do something fun.”
“A chain is far too much work.” Jared joked. “Nah, I need easy access for real it’s calving season.” And Jared knew this fact made his farm a mess every year. Vicious mothers tended to get even more so the closer to term they became. Especially the bies. So to combat this, new hardware would be needed. Especially since someone was sabotaging him. “Good call about extra stuff, you’d think I’d have learnt that lesson, then again…” Jared paused and peaked into Lukes basket that he’d previously put down. “We probably need different sorts of supplies huh?” He grinned however when Luke indicated he’d stay the journey. Jared took the phone and typed in his contact details. “We will, if you don’t see me far too often at the pizza shop. I’m not kidding, I eat so much take out when I have the spare cash it’s unreal.”
“Just come hang out, I’m in downtown near the shop anyway. It’s easy to get around,” Lucas took his phone back and sent him a quick string of emojis so he had his number. “I hear that shit all the time. Pizza is easy, but you better keep up the active life or it will get to your health. I just got back on my feet a few weeks ago after an injury. I missed climbing and running, and throwing a football. I’ve been thinking about getting a few of us together sometime for flag football. You down for that? Can you catch and run? Cause that’s all there is too it.” Luke chuckled.
“I can definitely run, catching isn’t a strong skill for me. But I can learn.” Jared bumped their shoulders as they waved their way through the isles to the register. “Count me in for football. I’ll try not to make a fool of myself relearning the rules. Been a hot minute since i’ve had anything to do with sports.” he laughed as he put his basket down to pay for the locks. “But hey. Text me. Or see me at the shop today because I'm ordering like five pizzas in celebration bud.”
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑰𝒕 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒅 / Alex & Sid
Date: July 5, 2015
Location: Vancouver Rooftop Bar; The World Cup Celebration
Summary: The first time they ever met.
Date Started: January 31, 2021
Date Completed: still in progress
Sidney
He was still somewhere in the middle of getting the confetti that had somehow wedged itself into his right earlobe loose, when Gino had snuck in around him; two girls tucked underneath both his arms, and said something about a party? And, since Sid was still half-deafened by half-an-inch of coloured paper he was forced to lean back in and get the Russian to repeat himself. “Did you say a party?” It was confirmed with a nod and a grin that could’ve taken out the two women still standing beside his friend… “Okay… sure.” The brunette had been hesitant to say yes... First, this was Gino... the Russian had a history of getting the boys to go to parties with him only to find out that once they got there it was just a couple of girls, a couch, and a whole lot of trouble just waiting to happen. Second, his recent break-up with Kathy still felt… raw. Which he knew was why Gino and Kris had him in Vancouver right now watching the Women’s World Cup… distraction was key, right? Not something that either one of them had ever said directly to his face or anything, but the tickets that had presented themselves at exactly that time and to a sport he’d never really had an affinity for, definitely had. And yet… somehow… Gino had kept him from backing out… which was saying a lot of the Russian’s powers of persuasion and probably also a lot about why the Cold War had taken so damn long to come to an end.
There was a long line out the restaurant door, but Gino said he had the gold ticket… which had Kris asking if he meant the golden ticket? Gino nodded—making Sidney laugh despite the fact he hated doing the line cut thing, but it wasn’t like they were taking up seats in the restaurant anyway. No, apparently there was some private thing happening on the roof top with their invitees tonight. The deal was, somehow Gino had scored himself an invite to the USA Women’s Soccer Team’s celebratory party via Twitter. Which of course had Sidney from the moment he’d found out till the moment he’d walked up the stairs and sighted a couple of the girls’ he’d seen on the big jumbo screen earlier, doubting. /Sorry Gino/. Suddenly, it was like most eyes in the room were on them as Sidney offered up a big of wave and Gino held out his arms and said USA, USA, USAAAAAA… and okay, it was bad. It was really bad, but at least the atmosphere had cracked, and the bouncers weren’t making any sort of headway towards them… still… Sidney couldn’t help but feel out of place as he walked over to the bar and asked for a drink… bumping shoulders with a girl as he did… “uh, sorry…” he stopped. He recognised her. You didn’t have to be a big soccer fan to recognise the face of Alex Morgan… “maybe I should be buying you a drink…” okay that had come out bad… he internally and externally cringed… “I mean for your big win today…”
Alex
The aftermath of winning the World Cup was a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, not only for Alex but all her teammates it seemed and almost none of them were on the same ride all ebbing and flowing at different times. There was the high of winning sure but coming to terms with the fact that it was over and finally being able to breathe a sigh of relief after how emotionally and physically taxing the journey had been made for a very strange experience the forward couldn't have possibly prepared herself for. She didn't know what she wanted to do more, party or sleep — for days! "Oh no, baby horse, you're coming!" Her teammate, mentor, and current roommate insisted when Alex even so much as hinted at the idea. She knew she would ultimately end up going but damn was that bed calling her name. "Yeah, yeah," was all she replied with while giving the blonde a smirk Abby could only see through the younger girl's reflection in the mirror as she brushed out her damp hair after showering a little bit earlier to get all the beer and champagne from the celebration in the locker room out of her hair. One of Alex's favorite part about being on the USWNT was how completely badass all the women were and how they could go from being a sweaty mess on the pitch to looking like a million dollars at the drop of a hat. Everyone looked stunning, dressed to the nines as they rolled up to the five star Vancouver rooftop bar that promised to be the perfect backdrop to a crazy evening. She was only on her second French martini when she heard some ruckus going on by the entrance, a man's voice cheering them on but she barely paid it half a mind as she was too busy being amused by Kelley challenging one of the bartenders to a game of beer pong. Only she could somehow finesse her way into getting him to push two tables together and craft the perfect makeshift set up. The defender would go on and on about how she could take out all the guys at the frat parties she went to back in college and now was her time to shine to prove (mostly to herself) that she still had it. Alex only stayed because she somehow got roped into being Kelley's partner while Chaney paired with the bartender. She wanted a chill night, no competitions, but when faced with one there was no way she was going to back down, she WAS Alex Morgan after all. To no surprise they won the first round and in a desperate attempt to get out of playing the second she grabbed their teammate Sidney who just happened to be walking by. "You play, I need to pee," was her lame excuse but at least it worked. It was that time of night where everyone was still on their way to getting drunk so no one was too crazy yet but Alex knew the line would be crossed very soon and she was making bets in her mind on who would be the first to get there as she waited for the bartender from the bar at the other end of the place to make her drink. "Oh —" was her original reaction to being bumped, bringing her mind back from wherever it had managed to go off to. An eyebrow cocked at his words as she tried but failed to let the smirk take over her features. "How very generous of you to offer to pay for me at an open bar," the striker chuckled playfully. It took her a moment in the dim lighting but she finally recognized him and while it was a nice surprise she had no idea how he managed to get himself here, to this party of all places but she figured he was Canadian and must be a fan or something. Who was going to say no to letting Sidney Crosby in the door? He was probably even more of a big deal here then in the states so it made sense, at least in her mind. "Thank you, though... for the sentiment anyway." Her hand was soon occupied by her martini glass and she wasted no time in taking a sip. "So tell me, what's the great Sidney Crosby's poison of choice?"
Sidney
For those who knew him, Sidney Crosby was a bit of an anomaly. Unlike most who’d come up through the usual college/junior league pipeline at such a young age to only later be spat out by either the league or themselves for ‘poor’ behaviour choices, the twenty-eight-year-old had remained tied to his past and the straight and narrow upbringing that had come along with it. A lot of journalists had it pinned down to growing up in Nova Scotia, where the population never quite teetered pass 30,000. Or even his father—who’d had his own history with the league. What they all eventually worked out though was Sidney just wasn’t what they’d expected him to be. Young, talented … sure… but the guy that was also going to give them all some sort of titillating headline… no. What Sidney was… was hockey. There wasn’t a moment on or off the ice he wasn’t thinking or breathing hockey. So, when he’d been forced into a bit of a set-up by a couple of friends and met Kathy… things had unexpectedly taken a turn for the young brunette. It was just… one minute there was a hockey and then there was… hockey and her and it had been a lot. His sister Taylor had told him ‘that’s love,’ which was pretty weird because he was almost certain it wasn’t love… at least not yet, but she’d always been a little weird. A comment that had earned him a hit by one of his mother’s handstitched patch work pillows… thanks Taylor.
It had taken Sidney a whole year to work out that she was probably right. The words escaping him one night across the dinner table while the two had been picking olives out of a garden salad the two had just ordered with a family size pizza. His stomach had done something that someone less logical might’ve compared to a somersault when Kathy eyes had widened, and her hand had found his neck and pulled him towards her… and for a moment there Sidney had honestly thought that would be it. That would be everything he’d ever need in life, Kathy and hockey… but as the years started to go by and his friends, teammates and family started to expand their families, Sidney realised he wanted more. Kids had never really been a topic of discussion for the two… they’d been young and busy and maybe it was wrong to assume that Kathy would just want them whenever he did. First, she’d pointed out that they weren’t even married yet... which Sidney hadn’t quite got, because wasn’t that all implied with the question? That marriage was part of the package too. Which had really upset her, because after nearly nine years this was how he was going to propose. It was all down here from there and before Sidney even realised what had happened it was just hockey and no Kathy again. There had been a few attempts to make amends and even a couple of goes at trying again... but in the end it was over. All nine years of it. Which is a lot in numbers. One hundred and eight months, four hundred and sixty-nine weeks, three thousand and eighty-five days… it’s a lot and despite Geno and Kris’ best efforts to cheer him up, Sidney was still not-quite feeling it… At least until he found himself next to FIFA World Cup champion Alex Morgan and suddenly there was something to smile about, because right of course the bar was an open one tonight… despite it… Sidney leaned forward, getting the barkeeper’s attention and ordering whatever Alex appeared to be drinking tonight… his hand reaching into his pocket to pull out a twenty and slipping it into the ‘tip jar.’ A smile on his face as he let it fall out of his fingers… “drink bought…” Her question had him debating a little. He’d originally slid up ready to order ‘just’ a beer, but now that he was here and consciously aware that this was a celebration, he settled with a whiskey straight, “what did you have me pegged as? An Apple Martini kind of guy?” He knew a lot of shit got talked about him. He was emotional… passionate... which had its critics. Some of it got to him… most of it didn’t. “What’s got you so hooked on those…” Whatever she was drinking gave off a fruity aroma. Definitely not something he’d usually drink, but the night was a warm one and something about the whole thing was mildly tempting… though thinking about it, if Gino saw him drinking up some pink cocktail… he’d never live it down. He could hear the Russian’s loud laughs echoing across the patio, but where the giant’s exact location was amongst everyone else was still a mystery… besides Sidney wasn’t exactly thinking of leaving his spot at the bar anytime soon. Though, maybe he’d trapped Alex here with his lame gesture to ‘buy’ her drink and all these questions about fruit cocktails when where all she really wanted to be was out there with her teammates on the makeshift dance floor. “Hey, sorry… if you need to go…”
Alex
The brunette tilted her head in gratitude with a smile once the second drink was on the bar in front of her and the twenty had fallen into the tip jar. She didn't really know how to take it but she figured just accepting it and not making a big deal was the best way to go. Alex sat there, taking another sip of her martini, silently berating the butterflies in her stomach that she hadn't felt if not since college then honestly, never. She was married, newly, freshly married, the instantaneous spark and magnetism to the man next to her was completely inappropriate and yet there she was taking a step closer to him, closing what seemed to be too big of a gap for two people engaged in conversation. She had never been one to stray from any relationship but especially not the one she was eight years deep and now fully committed to. The striker had gone through what felt like everything with Servando by her side; He saw her career grow from the very beginning of when she started to become a big deal in college. He spent countless nights helping her study before a big test or running drills before a big game. It was easy to do life with him, she enjoyed it, but even at their most passionate she never felt that SPARK everyone talked about and chalked it up to being nothing but superficial and fictional anyway. Love was about friendship, the kind of bond you didn't want to let go of, (right?) and Servando fulfilled those requirements to a T. Alex had her passion and it was soccer, in her mind that's really all she needed, finding that in a man had never been a priority. "Are you making fun of my martini?" she teased after he mocked being an apple martini kind of guy. "No... whiskey. You have yet to surprise me, Crosby." Even she could barely recognize the flirty tone in her voice, which caused yet another sip of her drink. Hopefully he'd just think she was eager to celebrate her win, not that she was someone who drank her alcohol a bit too fast. "Oh, these? My sister got me hooked on them a few years ago, they're great for when you're out and want to pace yourself but still have something delicious. I was tempted to stick to the champagne but I refuse to be the first one wasted and miss out on all the amusement of watching everyone else get there first." The soccer player laughed a little at her own words. Her eyes scanned the crowd for a moment before her green-blue hues were right back on him. "No, don't worry. You're actually saving me from a very grueling game of beer pong. Kel's over there trying to relive her glory days. I think your friend might've taken over the poor bartender's spot." This team was nothing if not a good time, she was sure he would discover that in no time. "Not your thing either? Or am I the one keeping you? Either way..." Alex sat her glass back down on the bar and carefully slid it over in his direction, "you're not getting away without trying it." Her head motioned to the drink waiting to see if he would take the bait.
Sidney
He laughed at her accusation. His hand lifting up in apology as he took a sip from his glass, only lowering it once she’d pointed out just how unoriginal he was for his own drink of choice tonight. It was weird but he was slightly mad at himself now, for not going against the grain earlier and ordering one of whatever she was having. Somehow ‘surprising’ Alex Morgan seemed appealing right now. Which was weird because he’d only been standing there beside her for less than ten minutes and it seemed strange to care so much about something like that… He supposed it had been years since he’d slid up next to a pretty girl at a bar and allowed himself to look… and it wasn’t even like he was doing that, right? Right. It was just— he was at a party (somewhat uninvited) and he was being friendly. That’s what this was. “Sorry to disappoint…” his smile twitched up as he watched her start talking about the drink her fingers were currently wrapped around. He heard a few buzz words that would’ve allowed him to stitch together a proper reply if she’d expected it once she was finished, but really, he’d just been watching her talk and get excited about something like a drink and he couldn’t help but think it was all kind of cute really. Here was ‘the’ Alex Morgan the girl he’d just watched own it on the soccer pitch and here she also was rambling about some drink she’d come accustom to ordering…
yeah, champagne has a way of getting you to do some pretty outrageous things too…” he thought about the first time he’d filled the Stanley cup with it and drunk more than he’d ever had in his life. That had been a night. His head getting cloudy just thinking about it—though maybe that was less about the champagne and more about the fact that Alex had just said that he, Sidney Crosby, was saving the USA superstar from some game of beer pong? He looked across to where she’d mentioned it was going on... seeing not just Gino, but Kris there and two teammates from Alex’s team on either side of them and the table… of course. The twenty-eight-year-old was about as interested in the commotion happening over there as he was in the weather back home in Nova Scotia… turning his attention back to Alex instead and smiling when she passed her drink along the bar towards him. It didn’t have to travel very far, somehow without even realising he’d been doing it, he’d closed a lot of the previous space that had once existed between them… “well since you’ve had a few drinks now… I know you’re not secretly moonlighting as a Philly fan with the goal to poison me tonight, so…” he scooped it up. The glass dwarfing in his hands as he did… “mmm…” he could’ve avoided the lipstick and drank from the other side, but instead he stuck his mouth on top and took his sip. The hit was instant. The fruity taste covering most of his tongue, but the hint of her lipstick was there too… “yeah, so that’s not too bad…” he lowered the glass, sliding it back over towards her, before doing the same with his own glass… “your turn.” The thing about whiskey if you got the expensive stuff the taste had different notes to it. Something Alex might not have realised and something he decided to add to convince her, “I’m sure you’ve tried whiskey, but this one… this one is really good…” The thing was, he was pretty sure he just wanted her to drink from his glass in order to leave that tell-tale sign of lipstick behind that went ahead and reminded him with every next sip he had coming his way that she’d been there… which was insane. He knew that. He wasn’t crazy. He just… didn’t care.
1 note
·
View note
Text
burn, crash, romance (i’ll take what i can get from you)
pairing: eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier [reddie] w/ side mike hanlon/stanley uris/patty blum [stanpatlon]
word count:
chapter count: 1 of 8 of the fratboy eddie project w/ @reddietrashclub, chapter written by me!
summary: Richie didn’t know Eddie very well, not that he would want to, and even just looking at him now, he knew that Eddie Kaspbrak was exactly all the things that Richie had tried to tell Stanley that frat boys were. His brown hair flopped into his brown eyes, pressed down by some red snapback worn backwards and beige khaki jeans that looked glued to his legs. He was hot and the smirk on his face showed that he knew it.
warnings: intoxication, sexual flirting
frateddie!taglist: @aizeninlefox, @appoloos, @mrs-vh, @playwiththeflowersofmysoul, @tyrror, @alonelystarfish, @blueskies-and-fucking-sly-smiles, @captainbartholomew, @edneedspie, @im-therosaline-tohisromeo, @invitedtoapityparty, @it-crack, @kasp-brakz, @merriebaby, @proton-disaster-blaster, @purpleposionedgem, @ra-ra-rasputine, @richietoaster, @stanielthemaniel, @tenderlydeliciousstrawberry, @trshmth-richie, @wheezyeds, @wintersember, @youll-kill-me-if-you-stop (let us know if you want to be added!)
perma tags: @jwilliambyers, @eddiecare, @thorn-harvester-ven, @wonderfuleds, @kasbprak
read on ao3.
Richie turned around in his desk seat when his roommate, Stanley, came barging in. Now, Richie had been sharing a room with Stanley Uris for nearly a full three years and he wasn’t much of a barger. Admittedly, Richie was sure he’d gotten to become a bad influence on his friend over their time together- because Richie could be a good student and still have fun, thank you very much- but Richie was still able to recognize out of character behaviour in his best friend.
Stan moved quickly towards his bed, grabbing at the clothes he’d yet to unpack from his trip back home for Passover. He started tossing clothes over his shoulders in search of something, and Richie startled. “Whoa, buddy!” Richie cried, forcing a laugh. “Where’s the fire?”
Stan turned towards Richie and glared at his clothes. Richie had already settled in for the night, wearing nothing but a slightly larger band T-shirt and his boxers. His contact were out, glasses settled on his nose and hair pulled up into a messy bun on top of his head.
Stan let out a disgusted noise. “Get dressed,” Stan said, shaking his head. “We’re going to a party.”
“What the fuck, it’s Wednesday!” Richie cried, tossing his hands up into the air. “Who the fuck throws a party on a Wednesday? This isn’t fucking Frosh week anymore.”
Stan started jumping into what Richie had loving dubbed his “My girlfriend pegs me” jeans, and rolled his eyes. “Mike’s fraternity is having a party, and he invited us. All of us. So we’re going.”
Richie groaned. He liked Mike Hanlon, he really did, but ever since his best friend had started growing close to farmer boy-turned- frat boy, Richie had found himself being forced into a lot more social interactions then he cared for. “That frat boy has the hots for you.”
Stan’s cheeks flushed and he flipped Richie off. “I have a girlfriend, in case you’d forgotten.”
Richie rolled his eyes. “Just because you have a girlfriend, doesn’t mean that somebody else can’t think you’re a hot piece of ass.”
Stan chucked the first pair of Richie’s jeans he could find on the floor towards him. Richie squawked as it hit him in the face, then fell into his lap. “Shut up about Mike like that. We’re just friends!”
“So, you’re going to introduce him to Patty then?” Richie challenge, looking around for a shirt to shrug on. He settled on his simple grey UCLA sweater, over top of his acid wash skinny jeans that were ripped from wear rather than style. He paused, debating for a moment doing something with his hair and putting in his contacts, but ended up shrugging it off.
Stan was glaring at him. “Why are you saying that as though I’ve purposely been keeping them apart? Their paths just haven’t crossed yet, it isn’t anything serious. But yes, Patty is coming tonight. So you can let go of this weird idea you’ve thought up that Mike likes me.”
Richie rolled his eyes. “Alright, whatever. Let’s go.”
Stan frowned at Richie, looking him up and down. “You’re actually wearing that? Richie, put in an effort.”
Richie scowled. “Why? You’re one going out to a party on a date with your girlfriend and the hot frat dude who wants to fuck you, not me.”
Stan grabbed hold of the hem of Richie’s sweater and tugged on it. “You could use to be laid! You haven’t been serious with anybody since Sandy back in freshman year- and this is your longest dry spell in ages. Mike and I were talking today and-”
“You and Mike were talking about my sex life?” Richie squawked, yanking away from Mike and tugging his sweater back into place. “What the kind of fuck-”
“We were talking about your lack of sex life!” Stan replied. “Richie you used to be kind of a slut-” Richie made an offended noise but Stan barrelled on over him. “And that was an issue, but now you’re sort of the opposite side of that. You gotta find a good medium, Rich, and there’s gonna be tons of chicks and... frat dudes-”
“And you’re telling me that the frat dudes won’t be wearing UCLA sweaters?” Richie challenged, crossing his arms over his chest. Stan’s mouth dropped open and he raised his brows, but he merely stared at Richie gap mouthed. “That’s what I thought. Let’s go.”
Eddie Kaspbrak dodged the fourth overly-muscled guy of the night, taking the solo cup he offered him and swerving away. He moved towards the sink in the kitchen and dumped the cup down the drain. His best friend and fellow frat brother grinned at him, reaching out to adjust the hat backwards on Eddie’s head. “Dodging all the m-m-en is starting to make you look m-m-messy.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “I need to start bringing a bat to these things. Can’t get them away.“
Bill chuckled, handing Eddie a drink he could actually trust. “It’s because you’re the hottest gay on campus. They can’t h-uhh-help it if you’re out of their league. Aim high. That’s my motto.”
“Don’t I know it,” Eddie said with an eye roll. Bill Denbrough had the highest kill count of anybody in their fraternity, but he no doubt that the highest count of strike outs as well. Denbrough had never shied away from a challenge, and Eddie had been by his side through countless successes and failures. Sometimes so many successes that Eddie was a little disgusted, and so many failures he couldn’t help but laugh. You could only be so supportive of bro. z
“Looks like Mike brought his little nerd boy tonight,” Bill said, leaning back on his elbows against counter in front of the sink. Eddie followed Bill’s gaze towards the front door of their frat house, watching Mike Hanlon ducking into the doorway with prim looking dark haired boy and another two friends, one female, one male. “How long do you think it’ll be b-be-before he gets some of that?”
“Mike Hanlon?” Eddie asked, sighing a little wistfully. He shook his head, smilingly fondly. “Personally I’m surprised he hasn’t locked in already. Not like people to take the long road when getting some of him.”
Bill suddenly let out a low whistle. “Might have something to do with that.”
Eddie looked back over, wincing at the sight of Mike’s crush- Stanley?- with his hand suddenly entangled with the girl who’d come in with them. “Ah, fuck, a Straightie. Nothing worse than that.”
Bill let out an annoyed noise and sucker punched Eddie in the shoulder. Eddie burst out laughing and punched him back, the two of them socking each other in the chest and shoulders for several moments. Eddie turned slightly away from Bill, still laughing a little breathlessly, when the man who had come in with Mike and Stanley caught his eye.
His hair looked black from so far away, but Eddie supposed it must be brown, and it was piled up on top of his head in a messy bun. He had rimmed glasses sitting on his nose, with a pair of old looking jeans and a regular gray UCLA sweater on. He wore a bored expression, like he wanted to be anywhere else.
Eddie’s stomach flared up hot just at the sight of him. “Who’s that? The other guy?”
Bill looked over his shoulder, frowning. “The dude who looks like he just rolled out of bed? I don’t know, some scholarship nerd, I think. He was in my Intro to Psychology class last year, but I think he took it because he was actually interested. Weirdo... why?”
“I want him.” Eddie said, licking his lips before tossing back the rest of his drink.
Bill looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “What... him? Kaspbrak, look at him.”
Eddie smirked. “I am.” He skipped in place for a second and then quickly moved towards the other man.
Richie shifted awkwardly through the uncomfortable tension within his friends. The second Stan had made it apparent that he and Patty were in a relationship, Mike had seemed to grow quiet and disconnected. They’d been laughing and joking together one moment, and now Richie could see how Mike seemed to glancing around for a source to escape.
Stan was holding Patty’s hand awkwardly like protected him from the world and Patty was... well if Patty was openly drooling over Mike’s muscles then that wasn’t any of Richie’s business. Stan had told him so.
“Want to give us a tour, Mike?” Patty asked, twirling a strand of hair around her finger like Richie hadn’t seen her do since she and Stan were just starting out. Stan’s gaze followed the movement and frowned.
“Sure.” Mike said lightly, shrugging and gesturing further into the house. Patty dropped Stan’s hand and moved to quickly follow him. As Richie moved to go as well, Stan pressed a hand to Richie’s chest and pushed him back. He shook his head and mouthed “no” before taking off after Patty and Mike.
“What the fuck!” Richie cried, tossing his hands into the air.
“Hey, there.”
Just as Richie was getting ready to dwell on how his friends had abandoned him, yet again, a voice whispered into his ear. Richie spun around, fight or flight reflexes turned on, but his shackled quickly lowered when he took sight of the person behind him. Eddie Kaspbrak.
Richie didn’t know Eddie very well, not that he would want to. Even just looking at him now, he knew that Eddie Kaspbrak was exactly all the things that Richie had tried to tell Stanley that frat boys were. His brown hair flopped into his brown eyes, pressed down by some red snapback wore backwards, pair with a oversized red muscle shirt that showed off a ridiculous amount of sides and stomach and beige khaki jeans that looked glued to his legs. He was hot, and the smirk on his face showed that he knew it.
“Hi.” Richie said coldly.
Eddie leaned in closer, pressing against Richie’s side. “You know, I sort of run this shit. I’m in charge around here.” Eddie dragged his fingers down Richie’s bare arm, Richie trying to pretend that he didn’t get goosebumps. Eddie pressed completely against him to whisper in his ear. “That means I get my own room. The bed is a king sized. You wanna see it?”
Richie let out a bitter laugh. “You’re kidding, right? You’ve gotta do better than that.”
Eddie pulled back, blinking as the persona left his face completely.
“What?” Richie snickered, less bitter and much more amused this time. “Not used to being rejected?”
“Not really, no.” Eddie said slowly, shaking his head as though the last moments were imagined and he’d be able to knock them out.
Richie hummed. “Poor, poor, King Kaspbrak. Are you at risk of losing your crown?”
Eddie startled, looking Richie up and down quickly. “You know who I am?”
Richie gave him a disgusted look. “Don’t act all humble now, aren’t you the one who just waltzed up here talking about how you run this shit as though it’s some sort of achievement.”
“What’s your name?” Eddie asked, tucking his hands into his back pockets and nodded at Richie.
Richie checked Eddie out quickly then scoffed. “You want it?”
Eddie shrugged as though he couldn’t care less, but Richie saw how he flushed in the dim light of the house.
“Then earn it.”
Eddie let out a disgusted noise, scowling at Richie. “You’re not that hot, you know? Who shows up at a party wearing some school sweater?”
Richie scoffed. “You’re wearing the exact same sweater, dude.”
Eddie looked down at himself and flushed when he realized that, yes, he was wearing the same UCLA hoodie, right down to the style and colour. “Well! I’m a party of campus life, I have school spirit! What do you do?”
“Hurt the little fragile feelings of some Bambi-eyed frat boy, apparently.” Richie grinned cheekily down at Eddie, whose face flushed deeply. “There’s probably a hundred guys around here who would let you into their pants. Go find one of them.”
“Bold of you to assume there’s a hundred gay guys at this frat party.” Eddie said in a low voice.
“So go turn somebody,” Richie said with a waggle of his brow. “You’ve got gateway gay written all over you.”
“Gateway gay is so offensive, oh my God-” Eddie said, voice hitting up a pitch as though maybe it was supposed to sound like that. Richie jerked towards him, furrowing his brow while Eddie bit his bottom lip. “Whatever. Fuck you. No! I don’t want to fuck you.”
“You did 30 seconds ago.” Richie rolled his eyes. “And I think you still do.”
“Only because I think it’ll be hard for you to talk with your mouth stuffed full.” Eddie was standing at his full height, which was still about three inches shorter than Richie, and was openly glaring at him now. Richie couldn’t deny the burning that was starting in his gut, but from hatred or something else he wasn’t sure yet.
“Kaspbrak, that’s dirty.” Richie challenged with a wink. “Do you kiss your frat brothers goodnight with that mouth?”
Eddie pursed his lips, turning on his hip and storming off back towards the large groups of people. Richie laughed to himself, giving himself the chance to check Eddie Kaspbrak out as he walked away. He almost regretted turning him down- almost. It had just been too fun to resist.
Moving quickly through the crowd of drunken classmates, Richie finally laid eyes on Patty and sprinted towards her. Her face light up when she caught sight of him, though there was a delay between her smile and her eyes that implied she was more than a few drinks in. “Richie...” She cooed, reaching up and poking his cheeks with the tips of her fingers. “I love you! Where have you been?”
Richie chuckled. “Your boyfriend banished me so the two of you could ogle at Mike without be dragging you down.”
Patty’s eyes opened wide and leaned in close, despite only coming up to Richie’s shoulder at full height. “He’s like a God.”
Richie laughed, wrapping Patty up into a huge bear hug and swaying them around to the music. Patty let out a high pitched giggle into his chest, squeezing her arms around his waist.
“Stop stealing my love, Tozier!” Stan called through the crowd. Richie looked up to Stan and Mike coming towards them, walking a little too closely together, and Richie pressed Patty closer into his chest.
“Sorry, you can’t have her.” Richie sang, rocking softly on the spot with Patty. She giggled against his chest while kicking at his shins, and Stanley’s smile was all too fond to actually be annoyed. “She’s had enough of you and we’re running away together.”
“Richie!” Patty laughed against his chest, pulling away just to turn to face Stan and Mike, while resting backwards against Richie and allowing his arms to stay around her.
Stan rolled his eyes, smiling, then his gaze seemed to settle on something over something over Richie’s shoulder. He frowned. “Tozier, why is Eddie Kaspbrak glaring at you like you said something real offensive about this mother?”
Richie glanced over his shoulder, finding Eddie in the crowd quickly. The second their eyes met, Eddie gave him the dirtiest of looks. Richie purposely licked at his bottom lip and he swore he could see Eddie inhale.
Turning back to his friends, Richie caught sight of the look on Mike’s face. “Oh my god, whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t.”
Mike grinned, reaching out to grab Richie’s hand away from Patty and pulling him towards Eddie and his floppy haired frat brother. Patty and Stan followed quickly behind, Stan’s hand falling into Patty’s to keep her from stumbling and falling.
“Hey!” Mike called happily to his brothers, draping an arm around Richie’s shoulders and forcibly dragging Richie to stand in front of them. “Haaaave you met Richie?”
Oh fuck.
“Noo.....“ Richie groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn’t want to see the look of victory on Eddie’s face, though he felt it all the same.
“Richie, huh?” Eddie asked, voice dripping with smugness. “So that’s your name?”
Richie opened one eye, frowning. “Yeah. Congrats somebody gave you the answer. It’s not the same as winning.”
Eddie smirked, shrugging one shoulder. “I kind of think it is. So..” He stepped closer to Richie, slowly dragging his eyes over his torso. “Since I know your name now, does that mean I get to make you scream mine?”
Richie made overly loud vomiting noises, watching the awkward expression settling over Eddie’s face as his frat brothers began to laugh behind them. “Get better fucking material.”
Richie turned away, biting back his own grin, and walked off. Patty broke out into a fit of giggles, needing Stan to wrap an arm around her to lead her away from the boys. Mike turned to Eddie, an apologetic look on his face but Bill couldn’t contain his laughter.
“Looks like Kuh-Kaspbrak fuh-finally met his muh-match!”
“I know where you sleep, Denbrough.”
141 notes
·
View notes
Text
『ANYA TAYLOR JOY ❙ CIS FEMALE』 ⟿ looks like LYDIA MONTGOMERY is here for HER JUNIOR year as a COMMUNICATIONS student. SHE is 21 years old & known to be HOPEFUL, IDEALISTIC, DEPENDENT & MALLEABLE. They’re living in PERKINS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ JAMES. 21. EST. SHE/THEY.
hllo. .. sorry fr switching muses so suddenly .. bt lydia will stick. i swear. as always gib this a like if u’d like 2 plot <3
TW ABANDONMENT, DEATH MENTIONS, BORDERLINE IMPLIED
aesthetics.
knee highs and platform mary janes, tulle skirts and bubbles and beads and lace, and heart-shaped mirrors and heart-shaped bruises, gaudy mirrors and gaudy faucets and gaudy frames and chandeliers and gaudy gold, handwritten love letters and kiss-stained envelopes, flowers braided in hair and dying flowers in vases and flowers pressed in between pages, vintage perfume bottles and old ballet slippers and discarded head-shots, short skirts and satin slips and tiny cardigans, melted candles and burnt fingertips and dripping wax, floral baths and beach waves and seashells and summer breezes, renaissance paintings and statues and praying hands and rosaries and empty beds, masks and identities and sobbing and crying and yearning and wishing and learning and wanting and needing and the cycle repeating and repeating and repeating.
basic info.
full name: lydia rosemary montgomery
nickname(s): lydia delia, lyds
b.o.d. - june 22nd, cancer
label(s): the allegiant, the chameleon, the crestfallen, the facade, the gregarious, the grifter, the malleable, the marionette, the neophyte, the obsequious, the rose-colored glass, the sybarite, etc. ...
height: 5′7″
hometown: new york city, new york
sexuality: bisexual
pinterest
stats
inspired by: amy march (little women), lydia bennet (pride & prejudice), lucy pevensie (narnia), daisy buchanan (the great gatsby), moira rose (schitt’s creek), karen smith (mean girls)
biography.
the product of an affair between christian montgomery, an esteemed doctor at his hospital - and one of the nurses there, allison dermont. the half sister of caleb montgomery (shoutout 2 alli!)
named after her maternal grandmother (deceased before lydia even turned one) and rosemary because it reminded allison of her childhood (rosemary always in the air, growing from pots on their porch and baked into the bread they’d eat)
growing up, lydia never knew her father. but she knew of him - her mother told her stories often of him, and the work he did to save others. built him up as a hero, a role model, someone admirable and brave and just despite the fact he’d no longer look her in the eyes when crossing paths in the hospital’s hallways. lydia idolized him.
was a very lonely child - her mother worked long hours, and babysitters were often distant. tended to attach herself to them, anyways, clinging to legs and arms and having to be peeled off and scolded (which then resulted in tantrums, of thrown toys and stomping feet and red, tearful faces)
her schoolmates were cruel to her, an easy target as a child - she followed behind the girls who seemed the most well liked, trying to mimic how they were. it’d always been a little off, and a little off-putting, and she cried often.
abandonment issues led to an obsession with perfection - as if she accomplished the most, her father would be blown away with her talents when he finally reached out. it’d always been a hope for her - her father contacting her, bringing her into his life. being a full family, loved and attended to.
strove for the highest marks in all her classes, though there’d been hiccups here and there. she’d done ballet for a number of years before her dance instructor had essentially told her she’d never make it to a company, which led to her abruptly quitting. even put out a portfolio and contacted modeling agencies - she’d done a few small photoshoots as a teenager, but she’d never made it to anything big.
tried her hardest to act and work the part of someone important, elegant and better than who she really was. it showed in the aesthetics she indulged in (thrifted nearly everything she owned, from trinkets to her clothing) and the way she acted. in high school, she trailed behind the popular girls. molded her personality to cater to them, to be more like them. a mean girl, in a way.
did the same when it came to boyfriends and lovers - she’d mold herself into exactly what they wanted, tried to be the perfect girlfriend for them, or sexual partner, or anything. she just wanted the attention, the love. had a myriad of relationships in high school (and it bled into college, too) where she’d give her all, and ultimately end up used and disappointed.
never felt like the first choice, only the second. always the bridemaid, never the bride. never good enough, no matter how hard she tried. but always remained hopeful - idealistic, always thinking that she’d get her turn one day. optimistic, but with lowering self-esteem and a mountain of insecurities.
became something of a habitual liar, in the process - always wanting to seem better than she was, so she lied about where she lived (instead of a measly apartment, she lived in a penthouse) and her accomplishments and her experience, and her feelings and who her parents were.
found something she was genuinely good at during her senior year of high school, when she’d chosen a fashion elective for one of her class periods. the practical aspect, she was good at - creatively? she had nothing to offer.
because of her lack of ideas, she never pursued it further. in college she chose to go into communications, specializing in public relations, though she’d never thought of actually finishing college. it was just a way for her to find a beau, to marry - to leave new york and have children. has always wanted to be a housewife with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids. to be loved and held for the rest of her life.
without cliques in college, it was hard for her to find her footing among peers. joined a sorority, molded her personality once more into something they would desire, and was accepted. got a frat boyfriend until it burned out, and another, and another, until she had something of a reputation.
with all of these expenses adding up - lydia’d never wanted to work a retail job, or food service, or anything measly like that - she found use for her sewing skills in the back of npc shops. worked in a shady operation producing fake designer items. she’d been excellent at producing exact replicas.
it wasn’t a very safe job and it’d ended her up in danger on some occasions, but it paid, and she was desperate.
met caleb for the first time at his mother’s funeral and became obsessed with the idea of having a brother, of being closer to her father somehow. cyberstalked him as much as she could and found radcliffe, where she eventually transferred to when caleb had decided to go back. practically followed him like a lost dog.
got into perkins because she literally pre-wrote her essay to get in and basically sobbed her story in front of secretaries and deans and housing faculty until she’d been granted permission to move in.
currently interning at a company where she has control over their social media accounts, alongside a team of other interns. when she’s feeling particularly upset she’ll post passive aggressive or straight up distraught, distressing messages (tweets, captions, etc.) on their official accounts, sometimes featuring the mascot of the company/brand. they haven’t figured out its her, yet.
personality.
i won’t lie. she’s a bit of a mess.
constantly changes her personality to fit whoever she’s talking to, desperate for their approval in even the most minimal ways. consistently lies about literally ... whatever, sometimes for no reason, if it’ll make her seem cooler or better in some way. type of person who wants to one-up others.
excessive, in that way. clingy and pushy, she tends to latch onto people and designate her ‘favorites’ - their opinion means the world to her, and when it falters she essentially crumbles as a person.
pretty fragile as a person - emotional, and unable to be yelled at because she’ll wind up crying. takes a lot of things very personally, and always accuses herself as being the problem, which leads to her changing aspects of herself.
loves often, and viciously, will fall for someone at the drop of a hat. yearns, often. sulks often, too.
still has a ballerina’s posture, model’s demeanor, very upright and it could be mistaken as intimidating, though the facade cracks immediately when she speaks. loves gossip and unintentionally - or, intentionally - spreads it at the drop of a hat.
can get very possessive, and jealous, and outright mean. very highly defensive at times, when pushed (it doesn’t take much to push her)
sentimental to a fault - she still has her last pair of ballet slippers despite the fact that she’d dropped that pursuit when she was fifteen.
her room is adorned with mirrors, handheld and mountable and tabletop - they’re all heart-shaped.
has an obsession with hearts, actually, and florals, and gold, when it comes to decor. has hanging plants and flowers falling from her ceiling. her sink is a gold swan (her favorite animals are swans) faucet that she paid to get installed without permission from perkins.
basically her decor is very gaudy. loves fur coats and silk slips and mini skirts, brandy melville, platforms and socks. very specific style that she doesn’t falter from, often.
takes baths often to distress but setting them up is an hour-long process in itself, flowers and herbs and candles surrounding her tub. she’ll stay in there until she’s pruny and the water’s gone cold.
likes to garner sympathy when she can - though she herself tends to be a very sympathetic, compassionate, person. cries for others even when they’re not crying themselves. it’s a lot. tends to make things about herself, in some way.
a smoker, and a bad one at that, does it whenever she feels the slightest amount of stress. she’s very stressed, very often.
likes the aesthetic of art, like renaissance paintings and roman statues, but isn’t deeply knowledgeable on them.
very impressionable, easy to impress, and is loyal to a definite fault. doesn’t tend to give up on people, and holds out for the best.
a dreamer, excessively hopeful and idealistic - is often let down. wears rose-colored glasses and doesn’t see it, anyways. can be vicious, but ultimately just wants to be loved. obsessed with the idea of it.
very finicky and picky, but is also? a hypocrite? says she’s a vegan but she isn’t - she has indulged in mcdonalds nuggets more than once.
very materialistic in that she loves high-end things that she ... can’t afford, but is also financially irresponsible and loves to spend her money on things she absolutely doesn’t need. selfish and immature, at times.
vastly insecure, likes reassurance. double texts. overthinks. romanticizes.
laughs when she’s nervous - laughs a lot.
patient until she’s impatient, the reason why she burns her tongue and the roof of her mouth so often on hot teas and coffee and treats.
is either over-prepared or under-prepared; over-prepared in academics, always doing the upmost she can do (still a perfectionist) and under-prepared when it comes to dressing out - never wears a jacket and is always cold (anemic, too) because she’s hoping that a handsome stranger will give her theirs’
wishes on dandelion puffs and shooting stars and each and every 11:11, wishes for a lot of things - they never come true, but she keeps wishing.
loves romance novels, and period / historical dramas/romances especially. like, frankly obsessed
has a collection of erotica novels, too.
sleeps around often but there’s no guarantee that she won’t get attached to who she’s sleeping with.
la croix fan :/
got onto the cheer team the same way she got into perkins. crying to the coach. but she does have immaculate form, so.
can’t say no to anybody, about anything and for anything its a genuine Problem she feels like she always Has to do what people ask because that’s how you get people to like you (no it isnt!)
tdlr; she listens to marina and the diamonds, lana del rey, and mitski far more than any normal fucking person would and that should be enough to describe her.
wanted connections.
okay so i kind of imagine her as being New to radcliffe so these may not be instantaneous but.
a ride or die... someone tht she wld probably die fr at the drop of a pin or w/e, they dn’t have to be Her ride or die though,, y’know what i mean
bad influences... she’s very impressionable and wants to fit in with people... they cld get her to do anything...
people she annoys... she does that a lot :/ she’s just intense. high care. needy.
friends! just friends... please ... give her friends ... she’ll lay down her life for them ...
a drug dealer... y’know ... just fr funsies.
party pals... needless 2 say ...
unrequited feelings... mostly if not entirely on her part, because she’ll ‘fall in love’ with just about anybody
attachments... that she has on other people. just won’t quit!
new yorkians... who might’ve known her in her youth! she went to a public school.
associated with caleb... people who only know her because she’s caleb’s bastard sister
bad time... something went wrong along the way of their friendship and now it’s ... super bad ...
enemies... she’ll probably cry to your face or maybe even yell at u! who knows! u hate each other.
perkins roommate... i repeat, mayhaps a perkins roommate? who got thrust with her in the middle of the semester?
something soft... idk what ... cld be cute
the world is our oyster ... we can always brainstorm too... idk!! she’s new in town!! john mulaney vc !!
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Album Of The Day: Satan Is Watching
When most people born after a certain period of time think of the genre that is “country”, and what it has morphed into in the context of this day and age, a lot of unpleasant images spring to mind. Pretty boy, clean cut, poser rednecks who’ve never seen a farm outside of their music videos, trying to pretend to be another “honest Joe” when they couldn’t be any further from such a thing, making trashy, twangy glam rock mixed with watered down trap music/EDM for white southerners who might have interesting views on those of different races, rolling around in million dollar sports cars while adopting the moniker of “working class”...is probably what your mind immediately begins to conjure up in that brain of yours.
I honestly can’t say that I blame you. Country, or, at least, MAINSTREAM country, has lost its way completely. Luke Bryan, Brad Paisley, Tim McGraw, and Blake Shelton polluted this once proud, grassroots, amazing genre with pandering, trite garbage aimed at making money off of dumb hicks in the bodies of frat boys whose trucks cost more than your own damn house. Gone are the days when country music was filled to the brim talent, creativity, passion, and heart. Now, this “jock country” has taken its place, having thoroughly fucked country up the ass a few too many times that it has lost its way. For good, perhaps.
Underground country’s usually no better. There’s some exceptions (we’ll get to those soon), but for the most part, it, too, has gone off the rails and destroyed itself completely. It’s often just indie folk or what have you with even more acoustic guitars, though perhaps with more twang, whiny vocals that are trying (and failing) to recreate a stereotypical southern accent, a reliance on cheap gimmicks, sarcasm, and irony to carry their trash because the excrement can’t do that itself, and a musical quality that tries SO hard to imitate the great Mr. Cash, but is little more than a cheap, pale imitation that folks who wear WAY too much flannel and wire rimmed glasses will eat up like it’s the second coming of Joy Division.
No matter how you look at it, country has been thoroughly gentrified for the most part, just like many genres that were previously for a much different variety of people. Like trap music, or blues, or hardcore punk, or black metal. All of the original meaning is gone, driven out by money hungry label executives, clueless and ignorant listeners, and musicians hellbent on half-assing their way to fame and fortune.
It’s a crying shame, it really is.
But fret not, dear reader! There is still a soft, seedy underbelly of the country genre that has taken the long dead (yet forever revered and loved) sound of “outlaw shit”, as Mr. Jennings would put it so eloquently, to its most logical extreme. One that would make Nelson, Cash, Haggard, Coe, and others that might’ve been at the top of their “underground”, “anti-mainstream” game seem rather...accessible. These aforementioned artists and their peers are still greats who, in their primes, were powerhouses that made some of the greatest works the genre would ever produce. But when compared to this particular sound...they just don’t hold up as well. The rawness, the grassroots nature, the down-to-Earth (and sometimes below the Earth) attitude, the simplicity, the honesty, the bluntness, the intimacy, the melancholy...all of it gets turned way up to eleven. It’s dark, it’s mischievous, it’s harsh, it’s gritty, it’s angry, it’s bitter, it’s darkly humorous, it’s lonesome, it’s ornery, and it’s damn sure pretty fucking mean.
Call it whatever you want. “Southern gothic”, “dark country”, “death country”, “gothic country”. It doesn’t matter what name you apply to it. All that matters is that it’s country. Real fucking country. Country meant for the guttersnipes, punks, street urchins, hobos, peasants, and forlorn drifters. This ain’t pretty boy music. This isn’t nice, Christian contemporary that you can play at your local uptight establishment. These aren’t harmless tunes your the posers can get drunk and go mudding to. This is country as it was meant to be. The eptiome of the term “outlaw shit”.
There’s a plethora of wonderful bands in this scene. Sons Of Perdition, Sixteen Horsepower, whatever project Jay Munly’s got going on this time around, The Dead South, the early days of The Devil Makes Three, The Builders And The Butchers, Wovenhand, Ghoultown, Coffinshakers, The Pine Box Boys, and, of course, everyone’s favorite descendant of the Williams family tree. The third one, that is.
But all of those fall short of that truly, truly, TRULY horrific honky-tonk, old-time, folksy, backwoods atmosphere that this duo produces. One that hails from the isolated, empty thickets that lie out in rural Wisconsin. A mentally disturbed pair of “prophets of the country doom”, as they have decided to label themselves. A fine example of those who have gone completely mad, completely sad, and doing so makes them feel very glad. They revel in their craziness, and while no album sounds the same, each one is marred by a couple of recurring themes: humanity is worthy of being sent straight to the fiery depths, these boys are depressed beyond your wildest comprehension, a rebellion against both God and Satan, and a desire to document the lifestyle of society’s forgotten ones, hated ones, and feared ones.
Let me introduce you to Those Poor Bastards.
Fitting name for a couple of enigmatic, largely unknown, extremely obscure pair of men known simply as Lonesome Wyatt (impassioned orations and guitar-based melodies) and The Minister (everything else).
The Minister is completely anonymous, with no one having even seen his face, while all that’s known about Lonesome Wyatt is that he’s from Wisconsin, (probably) lives alone, and is likely of an unsound state of mind.
Why is that all important? Well, go listen to their albums, and then you’ll find out why these little intricacies are vital to the dynamic duo’s imagery, music, and cult status.
While all of their material is quite good in my opinion, today we’re going to look at my favorite album from them, and possibly my favorite album from any country artists EVER! Everyone, please proceed to throw on “Satan Is Watching.”
What you’ll first be met with Lonesome Wyatt letting out a loud, wild, manic screech that almost doesn’t sound...human. It’s not even a word. Just an unhinged howl like Lonesome Wyatt’s been possessed by some sort of demon from the pits of Hell, having taken over the “doomsday preacher boy” to spread the wicked gospel. A hell of a start to an album of any kind, let alone a country album. It’s bold, but it lets you know right off the bat that they aren’t fucking around. This is going to be a rough ride from start to finish, and you’ll be left quaking in your seat once Those Poor Bastards has pierced your mind, heart, and soul with their fiendishly unholy sound. A truly nihilistic piece of art about how this world is foul and wretched, and deserves to burn to a cinder.
But that’s just the first song.
Things only manage to get worse from there. Everything from songs about how Lonesome Wyatt’s a degenerate who revels in just how much filth and squalor he lives in, to songs (well, more like suspiciously suicidal rants) about how life is fucked and there’s just no point in living it anymore, to various “take that!” pieces towards lovers who have wronged him in times that have long since passed, presumably. Typical topics for country artists, but contorted and warped to the point where they sound like miniature horror stories being yelled and hollered by a crazy, top-hat wearing yokel than the struggles and strife that are endured by the common man/downtrodden fellow. Hell, there’s even a Johnny Cash cover! A twisted, perverted, scummy, bone-chilling, haunting, eerie take on the previously wholesome, innocent love song The Man In Black made for June. I can’t exactly look at it the same way, what with these mysterious hooligans having thoroughly butchered it.
Instrumentation is minimalist and simple. Nothing too fancy or technical here. It’s quite self-explanatory. Despite how evil it is, the rhythms are still toe-tappingly catchy. The drums, being pounded upon by the fiery hands of The Minister, provide anything from a nice, plodding beat you can stomp your feet to, all the way to a rowdy raucous of a banger that’ll have you doing some sort of line dance with the living dead. Lonesome Wyatt beats upon his acoustic guitar like it owes him money. Not even really playing it. Just smashing the strings until weird, disgruntled, odd noises come out of it. He also seems to thoroughly shatter his ability to talk without a sore throat, pushing his voice to its very limits. The bass compliments everything very well, providing a creepy, fuzzy, dirge-like texture in the background to keep the menacing tone alive and well.
All in all, while this may not “experimental”, “avant-garde”, or even “progressive”, this is certainly an album that’ll give you the heebie-jeebies, and for a country album, it is most certainly “out there”. It takes the usual country tropes, and either turns them into something out of a David Lynch movie, or subverts/plays with them to fuck with the audience and make them contort their face with confusion...and excitement. A spooky bit of acoustic noise that’ll restore your faith in country music, and remind you that there is still a small resemblance of a spark left within the dying genre.
Please, I highly recommend you check this out.
This has been another installment of “Esoteric Warfare”, and remember...
NOISE, NOT MUSIC!
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
No One Is Ever Ready
A short story of Hannah Shepard’s thoughts shortly following her daughter’s death in 2183.
Hannah Shepard stepped out into the dark, into the primordial chill of Hellas Basin. She closed her eyes against the night and inhaled deeply, tucking her wine glass to her chest, just standing in the cold silence and still air. Letting the burden of playing hostess to mourners fall away. The clocks had stopped for Martian midnight, the not-quite-real half hour between 2359 and the new day, an effort to keep pace with Earth and a time that felt as delusional as everything lately.
Nathaly’s skycar sat in the driveway. A cherry red 2160 Fire Starter. She spent all of her navy enlistment bonus, and her first month’s salary, and an advance on her second month’s acquiring it, not one day after she finished boot camp. Then called her father begging for grocery money a week after that, when she found out what navy food was like on the outer moons.
Paul had given it to her, of course. He could never deny her anything. He left that unpleasant task to her mother.
Hannah ran her palm over the canopy, and heard an echo of her daughter’s strangled outcry at leaving a handprint on the glass. But the planitia dust carried by the last storm had covered the car in a fine rust coating, and all she managed was a smear of desiccated soil. God, but she’d lectured her until her ears burned, when she bought the damn thing. Not that her shouting ever made any difference. Nathaly was Nathaly. The purpose of rules or prudence or even rational behavior simply eluded her.
But it also gave her a certain exuberance. That same young woman who drove herself into debt had been a little girl who played in the rafters of a carrier hanger like they were monkey bars, swinging from beam to beam while Hannah stood below with her heart in her throat. She’d yelled at her to come down, and she had, her face flushed with a smile lightyears wide. To this day, Hannah didn’t know how Nathaly even got into the hanger.
A brief burst of noise, murmurs of voices- their family and friends gathered inside the hab- and a block of light reflecting off the car. Hannah turned. Paul closed the hatch. Rubbed his arms. “Cold night.”
“It’s Mars,” she said.
He came up beside her. Shivering now and then. “She hated the cold. Used to wait for the school bus bundled up in three sweatshirts, a hat and a jacket, in the dead of summer.”
She closed her eyes again. Her voice a sigh, tired and ancient as the planitia surrounding them. “I can’t.”
He touched her shoulder. Tentative. She’d been standoffish since she arrived, speaking little if at all, keeping busy preparing for the informal memorial tonight. “Hannah—"
“I can’t,” she repeated, sharper than before. “If I have to spend one more second in that house, with those people, pouring over old pictures and telling stories—"
Paul put his arms around her, pulling her tight to his chest. For several long moments, she let herself sink into him, face hidden in his shoulder, throat swelling shut, her eyes hot with tears. She finally lost it on the shuttle from the Citadel, after the public funeral. A private breakdown in the tiny bathroom, while some impatient frat boy still hungover from a party weekend pounded on the door and complained other people needed it.
Losing her composure never provided Hannah with any solace. She preferred privacy, and decorum, and going about her life as usual until it was usual again. But her daughter was dead, and that one clarion fact cut across all her effort to cope quietly.
She stood like a statue, feeling her husband’s arms warm where they touched her, the crystalline biting cold where they did not. Listening to their neighbors two doors down fumble up the walk after a night out, apologizing to the sitter for keeping her so late. Rubbing the dust from Nathaly’s car slowly into her palm. “Did we fail her?”
Paul stiffened. Shifted slightly to look at her face. “What are you talking about?”
“I spent half her life telling her no.” She let out a helpless, baffled laugh. “Even when she was born. I had ten days left when my commander packed me onto a shuttle and sent me to Arcturus to start leave. But we got through the relay and she started to come— I kept saying no, over and over, because it was all wrong and too soon and I couldn’t stop her, even then.”
“I remember,” he said, not without a wisp of humor, smoothing his hand across her cheek. “You were incoherent on the comm afterwards. I’ve never heard you so undone, before or since.”
Hannah let out a small chuckle, despite herself. Twenty-nine years later it had lost all its trauma. Even on a night like this. “That poor private on the shuttle with me. I think I scarred her for life.”
Paul leaned in, resting his chin on her shoulder, his voice in her ear. “Somewhere, her own parents are cursing you for the grandchildren they never had.”
She rested her head against his, fumbling at the wine glass, looking out into the night. “And then there she was, our Nathaly. All our things were on Earth. I didn’t have a crib, I didn’t have a car seat, I didn’t have a diaper or stitch of clothing for her, but there she was, expecting me to figure it out.”
“But you did,” Paul said. Trying to comfort her, though Hannah herself could not have told him how. “When I got to Arcturus a week later, you’d slapped together a nursery that would put any expert to shame. You can manage anything. You’ll go on about how she was my daughter, but that part of Nathaly always belonged to you.”
“I just…” She swallowed, thickly. Drew away and took a sip of the wine to clear her throat. Focused on the neighbors, who were now trying to convince the sitter to let them drive her home. “Maybe if she’d had a mother who knew how to say yes, or at least yes-but, maybe she wouldn’t have run so far in the other direction.”
“No, no.” He turned her around. Eased his hand over her silver hair in a gentle, soothing motion. “Hannah, no. Our Zey-Zey was always going to run the way the wind blew her. It’s how she was made.”
They both froze up for a moment, as the neighbor’s air car trundled by, but they drove on oblivious to the gaping wound in Hannah’s front yard. It was a relief and an offense to go unnoticed, this reminder that most of the world had gone on without them.
Paul frowned. “Their stabilizer’s going. I keep telling them to have it looked at— one day it’ll fail and someone’s going to get hurt.”
Hannah read his frustration for the projection it was, because they both understood their daughter, and it hurt too much to be angry with her, so they might as well rant about the neighbor’s car. But just for a moment, she didn’t want to hide or pretend.
She shook her head. “You know, when I saw that boyfriend of hers on the Citadel, I told him I always expected this? To bury her, I mean.”
“You can’t mean that,” he said, his face falling, back down into the grief she saw when he first met her at their door, yesterday evening. The kind she couldn’t begin to heal, either.
“I did mean it. You’d have to be a fool to believe her life wouldn’t kill her one day.” Her voice so bitter it could pucker the air. But then she put her hand over her face, hiding her eyes, struggling with the words. “But I didn’t want her to go, I never wanted— I never—”
Paul took the wineglass and did something with it, she couldn’t see what. And then he held her again, rocking them both, his hand on her head and his cheek pressed into her ear. “Shhh. Shhh.”
She couldn’t speak. Instead, Hannah clung to him, bunching up his shirt in her hands, frustrated and ashamed and annoyed and angry, at this lapse of self-possession, at the family still inside her house, cluttering it up so she had to stand out here on the street, at her daughter for being the way she was and for failing Paul like this now, taking his comfort instead of giving it. That was her job. To be a pillar, hard and immoveable as stone, to hold her family up. Now she was only water.
But Paul had known her nearly forty years. He knew very well these kinds of displays didn’t help her. So after a fairly short while, he asked, “Did you like him?”
She was startled out of her misery, just for a fraction of a second. “Who?”
“The boyfriend,” he said. She could feel him smiling, just a little, at the absurdity of the question. The attempt to normalize something beyond all normality.
“You know, I did?” And then she was laughing, a sad kind of laughter she couldn’t stop, burying her face in his shoulder and muffling her voice. “I’ve never liked any of her partners so of course this is the one that got to me.”
“Now I wish I had gone to the Citadel with you,” he teased. They said his medical problems prevented him from traveling. Really, neither of them had wanted to go, but Hannah was able to do that one small thing for him. It felt like trying to sop up a tsunami with a dishrag.
After another minute, he nudged her. “You can’t leave it at that.”
She scoffed. “He…”
Then she sighed again, and gently detached herself. Found the wine on the roof of the car and took another sip, and ran her hand through her hair. “You know they brought her to the medical deck aboard my ship.”
“The night after Saren attacked the Citadel? I remember.”
“She had a brain injury. And my skipper didn’t see fit to inform me until nearly dawn.” She frowned, leaning against the vehicle. Her C.O. needed his executive officer in the CIC, doing her job. The battle’s aftermath left the fleet in crisis. In his shoes, she’d have made the same call. But it didn’t do much to ease the sting. “I ran down to Deck 10. I outran the nurse manning the door.”
Hannah could recall it so clearly. Sixteen hours after the battle ended, the medical staff had finally finished the initial triage, the facility at complete capacity. A kind of calm had descended over the deck. It could never be silent, not with so many injured, but with the lights down and all but the worst cases asleep, quiet reigned— save for the staccato click of her shoes over the tile.
“I found her bed just as the nurse caught up to me.” Her hand went to her mouth. There was her daughter, her baby, surrounded by medical equipment with a halo monitor on her head. “Alenko was asleep beside her. There wasn’t even an arm’s length between beds, much less any room for a chair. So he just climbed up next to her.”
She’d simply stared when she saw them. The kind of stare that had the nurse stammering apologies. “The staff said he refused to leave.”
Paul blinked. “He stayed there all night?”
“He had a gash on his forehead. The nurse said they had to replace the field bandage right there, because he wouldn’t let Nathaly out his sight.” She could see him still, an exhausted slump with his arm curled around her daughter, protective even in sleep. “And then she woke up.”
“She woke up?” His brow furrowed. “You told me she didn’t wake for two days—"
“Just a little. She was confused. Disoriented.” Hannah took a breath, let it out slowly. Because there was a part of her that wondered— would always wonder— whether that head injury was the reason they were here now, in mourning. It made the memory that much scarier. “She couldn’t remember where she was. Alenko woke up as soon as she stirred.”
His head lifted off the pillow. “Hey, it’s ok. You’re in the hospital.”
She looked around, a bit frantic. “Kaidan—"
“I’m right here.” This said with a certain patience, as though he’d said it before. Quelling her panic before it could bloom. “The ship’s fine. Liara’s fine.”
“Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital,” he repeated. Neither of them took any note of their audience.
Aloud, Hannah said, “The nurse told me she kept asking the same things, over and over. That memory lapses were common with head trauma, and talking to her helped. I’m her mother and I don’t think I could have endured more than an hour of that.”
Paul had gone pale. “You never mentioned any of this.”
“She asked for ice cream,” Hannah said, her voice catching. “Barely conscious and she was still begging for sugar. That’s when I knew if she survived there wouldn’t be any permanent damage.”
He took a shaky breath. Crossed his arms and looked away. “I had to hide the hot chocolate when she was little. She got up early when she was seven and made three gallons of it.”
“I remember.” She found she couldn’t look at him anymore, either. So instead she looked off down the street. Watching the red blink of the highway marker, a few klicks away, the fading taillights of the car. “And the time she was thirteen, and ruined the coffee maker in quarters on the Tai Shan, using soda instead of water.”
“You had to explain to the twenty other officers living in the family housing why they wouldn’t have morning coffee until you made port.” He reached out and took her hand, startling her. She looked into his face and saw him smiling. Fond, and a little sad, but a smile all the same. Gently, he asked, “And did Alenko get her the ice cream?”
“He said sure, he’d get her some from the mess. And then waited a few minutes for her to fall back asleep.” Her face crumbled. “I never got to tell her that stupid boy treated her better than anyone she’s ever chosen, and she should never let him go.”
And though she wouldn’t admit it, that was when Alenko won over Hannah Shepard. He had to realize Nathaly would never remember this act of endurance and love, and he was doing it anyway. Because she needed him right then, and he was there.
Paul’s fingers tightened on hers. “I’m glad she had that. At the end. I’m glad he was there with her.”
She sniffed, and wiped at her nose. Glanced away and back again. “He’s a mess. I only spoke to him for ten minutes after the funeral, and he was barely holding together with spit and string.”
“I know you haven’t been watching the news.”
“I don’t understand how you can.”
His thumb ran over her knuckles. Quelling. “I’ve had a VI filtering out the bad stuff. And what’s left… Hannah, so many people loved her.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “They loved the idea of her.”
A long pause. “We should go back inside. They’re going to wonder what happened to us.”
Hannah bit her lip. Finished off the last of her wine in one swallow, and gave him a nod. He slipped his arm around her waist and they turned back to the hab.
As they headed inside, leaning into each other, she said, “I miss her, Paul. I miss her so much.”
He kissed her hair, and opened the door.
59 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
tortilaachip
Young vs. The World.
renfricrey
Whoever made that prophecy, your mom's a hoe!