#but every time i see that scene i need to chew dry wall

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

the scene with Mrs. Lana actually kinda rips me up man. JJ looks so painfully SCARED the entire time. like maybe he's heard all this before. like maybe when women start screaming n men start yelling it reminds him a little too much of home. in the way that makes him want to run that makes him want to move and drive and get as far away as he fucking can. but he's too goddamn good. and he won't leave John B no matter what. so he squeezes his eyes shut and later when he pretends he was brave John B won't take that from him. will let him be as big as he needs to be to just keep moving.

#sorry long post #but every time i see that scene i need to chew dry wall #obx #outerbanks #jj maybank #john b routledge #john b

[primewritessmut]

18 - PRESS

I’m ninety-nine percent certain that it’s illegal to press-gang your minimum wage employees into cleaning up a biohazard slash crime scene. And yet, when I walk into the club, my boss hands me a damp bar rag and a single pair of too-big latex gloves, pointing me toward the back hall.

The dimly lit corridor that I’m so used to walking, leading from the bar to the staff break room, isn’t so dimly lit today. Someone brought in bright orange, caged construction lights on poles and they illuminate every dirty, dusty corner of the hallway. Particularly the thick, dark puddle of dried blood spread across the scratched concrete and the smear going up the wall from floor to ceiling.

It feels familiar and I don’t know if it’s familiar because I walk this hallway a thousand times a night refilling ice buckets or because I was here when the blood was spilled.

Was I here when it was spilled?

I don’t remember it and, as I look at the amount of blood on the floor, it seems like something I should remember. But there was also a bloody watch in my bathroom this morning that would be at home on the wrist of twenty percent of the guys that come in here. A watch that hadn’t been unclasped and was crowned with what looked like the jagged indents of teeth.

I check the corners for the tell-tale gleam of eyes, but the lights have managed to chase away every shadow. I thought maybe that would help me relax, ease my mind, fucking something, instead, I feel nervous.

Maybe I’d rather have a monster sneak up on me then see it coming.

I wonder if the owner of the watch got that courtesy.

“You don’t make money until we open back up,” my boss starts, his loud voice making me jump. “And we can’t open back up until it’s clean.”

He drags out a grey plastic, double-decker rolling cart overflowing with boxes and bottles, gesturing at it with a vague flourish. I think I’m starting to understand how our specifically bougie yet cheap clientèle find their way here.

“The sooner you start, the sooner you’ll finish.”

My boss makes vaguely impressed noises when I start digging through the cleaning supplies he bought and organizing them into piles. Necessary. Possibly helpful. Useless. Most of them are useless. There’s not nearly enough PPE or towels, exactly zero stiff-bristled brushes, and the disinfectant is entirely the wrong kind.

I don’t worry about that too much as I glance over my shoulder at the stain, calculating what else we’ll need to clean it. Dish detergent and water will work in lieu of the disinfectant, for now. There’s probably plenty in the supply closet.

The floor of the hallway is concrete, though, and I don’t know (I don’t remember) how long the blood has spent drying into a scabby puddle. There’s a high likelihood that it will stain and we’ll need enough hydrogen peroxide to cover the entire area and then some.

I make a few notes in the flip-top order book one of the servers left on the bar, chewing my lip as I stare at the list and then double every number. Better safe than sorry. The last thing you want mid-clean-up is to have to leave a blood stain half-there because you didn’t buy enough towels or used warm water and accidentally set the stain deeper.

“What’s this?” my boss asks when I hand him his new shopping list.

“All the things we need to clean this up.”

He looks at me oddly so I press on, not quite sure what’s about to come out of my mouth, both surprised and not surprised by what does.

“Trust me. I’ve done this before.”

17 - PENPAL || 19 - SCANDAL

#spooktober 2023 #31doh2023 #day 18 #original story #the monster under the bed

[desertgourd]

warnings for drug mentions and angst

The time is eight forty-three in the morning and Gaara stands outside the methadone clinic like cattle before the slaughter.

He isn't the only one. A group of mothers with Kool-Aid dye jobs lean on the handles of their strollers and suck down cigarettes while they gossip about the shirtless construction crew across the street.  In the one week since his acceptance into the clinic he has never seen them break from their pack. They were not unkind, speaking to him only to ask if he is waiting on the coffee machine, or to thank him for holding the door, or to watch my purse while I piss, can ya, thanks hon. Yet in time he has ceased to see them as individuals at all, their existences reduced instead to a congealed mass for which he harbors an sort of instinctual but impersonal distaste, the way he does for tilapia or waking up with a crick in his neck. Today, as he wills away a migraine latched onto the back of his skull, his patience wears thin.

He leans back against the brick wall of the building. It's nondescript, so much so that he passed it three times and was ten minutes late for his initial intake. No sign above the door. Shoved between a knockoff luxury purse store and a third-tier travel agency that hasn't seen good business since the second world war. The weather is mild, which is why the security guard is making them all stand out front until the place opens instead of letting them loiter in the lobby as he had the last few days of rain. Gaara has uncrossed and recrossed his arms at least five times. He inspects the backs of his hands, pale, cracked dry over the knuckles. Gnaws on his lower lip, tasting metal. Presses his fingertips into the cool blue veins shining through the bronze of his skin, ignoring the mottled dots that make the flesh of his inner elbow look like something out of a crime scene. He’s never been fidgety, but when his body wages a war against itself it is all he can do to quell his nerves blazing like live wires and the acute sense of suffocating in his own skin.

Eight fifty-one. He sinks down to a crouch. One of the mothers flicks her eyes over him then dismisses him, not worth her concern. She's barely five years older than he is - pushing thirty, at most - but her face is already a knotted web of wrinkles beneath the heavy foundation and eyebrows like bits of string tacked on somewhere below her hairline. It is a face that has weathered through more lifetimes than she cares to count, who knows acutely that in this world the only choices you have are to go forward or to die.

Two buildings over a pair of older men hunker down on the stoop of a deli with their hands shoved in their pockets and their chins up at every passerby. Loosies, loosies, loosies, they mutter in turn, a cultish chant. Fi dolla headphones, fi dolla, JordansBeatsSony, get em fi dolla. His toes clench until the muscles send spasms up his calves. He stands, leans again, chews the inside of his cheek, watches them from the corner of his peripheral vision. Gaara knows one drag will send him to the hospital with stopped-up lungs but god he'd take anything over the nerves.

A wave of fury slaps him so hard it nearly knocks him off his feet. Fuck Temari. Fuck her self-righteous bullshit, the superiority she lorded over him like a prize, fuck the way she clawed her way out from their hell unscathed while he bore the brunt of who knows how many generations of poison, passed on like a defect, like a disease.

Fuck that she cared.

Fuck that even though she deleted all his old hit-ups off his phone he can still name a dozen street corners where he can find bliss again, and fuck how badly he wants to. The need for it curdles every cell in his body, digs into his liver and throat and the beds of his nails. He thought it'd get easier. In a way it has. Gaara has come miles from his shivering lump of a body in the throes of withdrawal, from Kankuro all but spoonfeeding him soup for days, from his own father's funeral which he, of course, missed. But the road before him stretches to an end he cannot see, and if anything terrifies Gaara it is unpredictability. Put one foot in front of the other, said the case manager he is mandated to see twice a month as part of his treatment. Every second you spend looking back is a lost chance to look forward.

A few yards off - where the brick wall cuts off into a chainlinked-fence parking lot - some noise bubbles up from the flock of women. One of them has slighted her friend’s boyfriend of the month. Or accused another of stealing her last pack of Newports. Or made to snap in the face of some kid and the kid's mom didn't like it. A repeat performance; same act, different play. The disagreement rises to a yell, a child screams, and Gaara only glances over to make sure they aren't about to drag him into the fray.

Two past nine. They're late. His temples sear and there is one person he wants to call but can't, and one person he knows he should but he can't do that, either, or won't, for an entirely different reason. He'll be in and out in twenty, and then he can spend the rest of the day doing fuck-all (it's his day off, thank god, he'd be halfway to calling in sick otherwise, it's some miracle he hasn't been fired). Maybe hit up Kankuro for lunch. It isn't like he has any other friends. Maybe take a Benadryl and knock himself out until dark. That one isn't a counselor-approved activity but it's a hell of a lot better than the way he used to spend his afternoons. Always forward, never back, right?

The spat by the parking lot subsides. They tap away on their phones and shoot furtive glances at each other in the aftermath, ignoring the whimpers of their toddlers. Cliques forming and reforming. They're on their second or third cigarettes each, judging by the accumulated butts crushed in the gum-pocked concrete beneath them. Anything to take off the edge. Gaara finds himself envious, then disgusted by them, and then by himself.

When the doors to the clinic swing open at five past Gaara shoots in like a bullet, scrawling his name in the lobby sign-in sheet and punching the elevator button before the scent of dollar store perfume and baby formula can follow. Half an hour later he walks out on a cloud. Past the men panhandling on the corner, past a parking attendant wrangling a few truant teens off the lot. It’s a far cry from what he’s known for years, a happy meal to-go compared to a five-course dinner at the Ritz.  But it staves off the worst of it and makes him feel a little more in control of his own body and whatever ruins are left of his life, so he'll be back tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that, until the three-month mark when they trust him enough to not scarf down a week’s supply in one go. He wonders, as he swipes his card onto the bus and shuffles into the first open seat, if that is now how he must measure his future: Dollops of time snatched between the fuel he needs to survive. A desperate scrabble toward a future looming in the distance, unknown. It’s what he’s used to, only this time the process is approved and monitored by a team of medical professionals and he feels a little less like death doing it. This time he is a little less alone.

The bus shuttles down the dense city streets, streets Gaara has seen a hundred times and will see thousands of times more before his journey ends, although he doesn’t know this yet. He doesn’t know that with each foot he puts in the right direction the path before him grows tenfold, new tufts of green sprouting from cracks in the cement, clouds clearing to the sort of yellow-gray sky after the storm. It isn’t something something he will realize until he looks back and sees the forest bloomed around him, the fruits borne of the very seeds he’s sown.

For now he counts each stop and turn, a knee tucked to his chest, and doesn’t even mind when a pothole jolts him half to the floor. He merely picks himself back up again. Strange how habits form.

Maybe he’ll go see his brother. It’s been a while.

#drugs tw #tw drugs #how do the kids tag things these days #self!write #modern!au

[samstree]

A Study in Blushing

In which Jaskier makes a surprising discovery and decides to test it out.

(tooth rotting fluff, blushing geralt, soft jaskier, love confessions, kissing, winter at kaer morhen, rated teen, 3000 words)

Also, I know witchers can't blush in canon but seriously we should all know better.

read on AO3

“Gods damn it, bard! I know Geralt tolerates all your shit because he’s in love with you, but you gotta put things back where they belong!”

Lambert grumbles something more all the while putting the training swords back on the shelf, and Jaskier’s mind stops.

The world zeroes in on the words he’s in love with you and suddenly Jaskier can’t form words.

“W...What did you—”

“I said—” Lambert throws down the last one with a clunk. “—the swords go back on the shelf!”

“Geralt...is in love with me?” Jaskier breathes, unbelieving.

Lambert pauses, “Don’t you know?”

“No...?”

“Fuck. Pretty boy can’t get his head out of his ass and now I have to suffer.”

With that, Lambert tries to shoulder past Jaskier but the bard is having none of it. “No!” he puts a hand on Lambert’s chest. “Don’t even think about it. How? Since when? And how do you know?”

Lambert mumbles something unintelligible, before sighing long-sufferingly. “It’s too obvious, Buttercup.”

“How is it obvious? Does Geralt walk around with the words ‘I’m smitten with my bard and all the grumpy face is faked’ written on his forehead? How, pray tell, is it obvious?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Lambert, the bastard, raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Did you truly not know?”

“No!”

Jaskier is so close to grabbing Lambert by the collar just to shake some answers out of him, and finally, the youngest wolf takes pity on him.

“He looks at you differently when he thinks you are doing something cute. He trips over his words after you call him sweet names. The worst of it all—he blushes any time you are close. Blushes, like a fucking maiden. Urgh, I’m gonna throw up.”

“Oh,” Jaskier deflates, “Witchers blush?”

“See for yourself.” Lambert rolls his eyes, walking past Jaskier with a few long strides. “And put the swords back!”

 ~~

Jaskier decides to test it out, because there’s no way Geralt is in love with him.

Loving him as a friend, sure, why not? Despite what ignorant folks claim about witchers, Jaskier knows by experience that Geralt has a heart bigger and more capable of love than most. But Geralt being in love with Jaskier? Like, he-wants-to-kiss-him in love with him? No way.

Blushing because of him? Ha! More like in Jaskier’s wildest dreams.

Although that would be really cute.

“Pass me the salt, honey?” Jaskier reaches out a hand to the other end of the table, and Geralt passes the salt without thinking.

Hmm.

No tripping over words.

“Thank you, dear heart.”

He’s putting as much sweetness in his voice as possible and Geralt is…normal. His eyebrows are raised to the roof, and there’s a faint smile by the corners of his eyes. But that’s just how Geralt is…right? He’s home and he’s relaxed, he smiles with his eyes rather than his lips, and it’s got nothing to do with Jaskier.

Jaskier chews, staring at Geralt subtly.

Not subtle enough.

“Something on my face?”

“No—” Jaskier chokes, hacking like a fool and tipping sideways. “Just—too much salt.”

Geralt scoffs, the faint smile turning into a brief grin, and hands over a cup of water.

Jaskier wants the ground to swallow him whole.

 ~~

The snow is terrible.

The whole keep is freezing like an ice cube, and Jaskier has to blow on his hands from time to time just to function in the library. He’s the lucky one, in the grand scheme of things. The witchers still need to go outside to fix up the walls and tend to the animals.

Geralt hasn’t been back in a while.

Jaskier puts down the quill he’s been chewing anxiously and rushes out the door—

And bumps right into Geralt’s chest.

“Sweet Melitele, that’s a lot of snow!” Jaskier spits out the snow knocked into his mouth, before looking at Geralt properly. “Oh, you’re hurt.”

The cut on Geralt’s eyebrow is a small one, but Jaskier worries nonetheless. Geralt doesn’t look impressed, only walks straight towards the small medkit sitting on a shelf.

“Repairment has to wait. The wind is bad.” Geralt grunts, trying to touch the wound and missing by a mile.

“Here, let me.”

Jaskier takes the salve from Geralt’s slightly shaking hands and pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket. Geralt is frowning so hard he can crack a walnut with those eyebrows.

“Relax,” Jaskier murmurs, blowing gently at the cut while dabbing at the blood. Upon deeming it clean enough, he applies a scoop of the salve that smells of celandine and mint. “Don’t move. It’ll only hurt a bit.”

Geralt keeps shying away from Jaskier’s ministration so he has no choice but to wrap his other hand around Geralt’s jaw, which manages to still him instantly.

“There,” Jaskier smiles. “Shouldn’t need anything more. Your witcher healing will kick in soon.”

Geralt tilts his head with that soft look in his eyes. “My thanks. Wouldn’t have survived without you.”

“No shit! Who goes out in a storm like this one? If you ask me, Vesemir is too tough on you. Look at you…” Jaskier coos, taking Geralt’s hands. “You are like a popsicle, dear heart.”

He tries to rub some heat back into Geralt’s freezing hands, his skin dry and rough. There’s still some hand cream left in Jaskier’s room. Maybe he can fetch it later. Geralt needs to take care of his hands better when his living depends on them.

Geralt groans, looking away. The frames of his ears are beet red too; he must have been outside without a hat for all this time. Jaskier wants to cover them with his warm palms, only to have his hands batted away.

“No, there’s—I’m fine,” Geralt mumbles. If Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d think the way Geralt avoids his eyes is a result of shyness. The bard can snort at the ridiculous idea and stubbornly presses his hands over Geralt’s ears.

Oh.

His ears are red because they are so warm, not cold

Now that they are standing so close, only a hand’s breadth away, Geralt looks stunned, his eyes dilating, only leaving a ring of gold around those dark pupils. There’s even a layer of pink dusting over his pale cheeks.

A blushing witcher.

Oh, this is interesting.

“Geralt, sweetie?” Jaskier husks, lowering his voice especially on the pet name. “Are you warm enough?”

“Um, sure…not cold.”

And he watches as Geralt’s mind ceases to work in front of his eyes, the blush deepening. It’s still a subtle thing. No wonder Jaskier has missed it all this time. Calloused hands wrap around Jaskier’s wrists, and the bard finally relents, letting go.

If he spends the rest of the day sitting at the desk with a quill in hand, thinking about the way Geralt’s skin feels against his and the warmth of his cheeks, nobody needs to know.

 ~~

Jaskier doesn’t know what to do with this piece of new information.

Geralt does blush.

Because of him.

He tries to repeat the experiment. Just to be sure, he tells himself. And every time it yields the same results. As soon as he gets into Geralt’s space, the witcher either stumbles through his words or gets all flustered all over. The fondness is there too, just in a very Geralt and very unnoticeable manner, soft and almost smiling.

Jaskier is so drunk on power.

The only thing left is to tell Geralt that he loves him too. That he’s also in love in love with him, as in an I-also-want-to-kiss-you kind of way, and then… they can finally kiss!

Oh, just inwardly rehearsing the scene makes Jaskier dizzy, and somehow he ends up smiling to himself when he’s so deep in thoughts planning the conversation, once even in front of company.

Lambert throws him a side-eye and a disgusted grunt, but Jaskier can’t care less.

He finds the perfect night, and even takes a sip of White Gull from Eskel’s cup just to calm his nerves.

And he realizes too late that, perhaps, the strongest witcher brew might be a mistake.

The effect is stronger than he anticipated, and Jaskier is giggling through the fog in his mind within mimutes, somehow ending up on Geralt’s lap, draped over his shoulder in a heap of soft, pliant mess.

He rests his temple against Geralt’s and nearly tips backward if not for the strong arm that catches him by the waist.

“Oops, thank the gods I have my big witcher here!” Jaskier runs the tips of his fingers across Geralt’s stubbles. It tickles, and the blush is back, unmistakably, since Geralt is as sober as the day. “I’d fall over on my butt without you! And falling over doesn’t look good before saying important things, does it?”

Huh, he’s said it out loud.

“Saying what things?”

Well, if it’s out there…

“Where do I start again? Right of course, with how beautiful you look when you’re like this!”

His fingers move to tuck the curtain of white hair behind Geralt’s ears. No matter how much Jaskier loves it when Geralt wears his hair down, he needs to look into those amber eyes without obstruction. The molten gold gleams with surprise and Jaskier wants to drown in it.

“I’m not…” Geralt splutters, before closing his mouth with a pop. The flush is stretching down his neck now, and Jaskier chases it with a hand.

“You are!” he insists petulantly. “You are blushing and it’s beautiful. Adorable too! I wouldn’t know if Lambert hadn’t told me—” he burps. “—um, everything.”

“Told you what?”

The alarm in Geralt’s voice should wake Jaskier up immediately, but alas, the White Gull is no joke.

“Shh!” he stage-whispers, “It’s a secret! Don’t tell Geralt! I need to do it right!”

Jaskier lets out a happy sound and leans into the comforting embrace that he loves so much. Under his fingers, he can feel heat still gather under Geralt’s skin, making him look equally annoyed and fond.

“You are not making sense, Jask.”

“Nothing about you makes sense either, but I’m here. And ready.” Jaskier smiles and presses a chaste kiss on Geralt’s cheekbone, humming another happy sound.

Kissing Geralt is nice, gives Jaskier all the fuzzy feelings.

But somehow, that was also the wrong thing to do, because Geralt has gone stiff under Jaskier’s body. The next thing he knows, the witcher is struggling to untangle their limbs and leaving him empty and cold.

“Don’t…do this,” he murmurs, upset. “Just…don’t.”

The anguish the seeps through Geralt’s voice somehow manages to get through the muddy cloud in Jaskier’s mind.

“Wait, what?” Jaskier rights himself on unsteady feet, but his witcher is long gone. Eskel and Lambert are still nursing their tankards by the fire, and Jaskier wobbles past them without a care. He needs to find Geralt, who apparently charged right out of the great hall and into the cold night.

The heavy wooden doors open and Jaskier is hit with the unrelenting wind. The snow has stopped and partially melted, and frozen all over again. It’s the worst kind. Jaskier takes his steps with caution but still, it’s too slippery.

Okay. Mind. Clear. He needs it to be.

“Geralt?” he calls out, churning with anxiety. “Geralt, where are you?”

Damn his witcher speed. Now Jaskier is walking in the dark and freezing his balls off without an ounce of idea where Geralt might be. Oh, the stalls. Roach must be the first thought Geralt has when he needs to talk. Jaskier shudders, hugging his doublet tighter to fend off the wind and searches for the stalls blindly.

“Geralt, are you—ow!”

He walks right into a pillar and falls on his butt. Before Jaskier can register the pain, a pair of hands are picking him up by the armpits and he stumbles into Geralt’s embrace.

There’s a familiar sizzle of Igni, and the torch by the stalls is roaring with life.

“What are you doing out here?” A coat is tossed over Jaskier’s shoulders and he’s ushered back towards the building.

“Looking for you, you idiot!” Jaskier squawks, albeit grateful for the thick fur coat. A few more minutes he would lose all feelings in his toes. “Running into the night like this, who knows what can happen to you!”

“So you followed me out drunk and with no coat and I’m the idiot? Gods, I don’t know why I even…”

The doors creak open and there’s light and warmth and the smell of mead, but Jaskier’s heart sinks.

“I don’t know why you even bother too,” Jaskier muses, suddenly feeling like a scolded child.

Geralt steers Jaskier past the other wolf witchers and straight into his room, where the heat feels like a furnace on Jaskier’s frozen fingers—Geralt has been secretly tending to Jaskier’s fire for weeks after the human came down with a cold upon arrival at the keep. He’s too good to Jaskier.

“You are too good to me.”

“And you are a pain in the ass.”

Geralt sits Jaskier down in front of the fire rather grumpily, before joining him and pulling the coat even tighter. He’s still mad, just a smidge, but the droop of his eyes speaks more of sadness.

“Hey, talk to me,” Jaskier coaxes, squeezing Geralt’s knee in reassurance. Whatever argument coming their way, he can’t stand Geralt being sad.

“How drunk are you?”

“Not very.” If Geralt walking out hadn’t put Jaskier out of his daze, the wind sure finished the job. “White gull passes quickly. Hmm, who would have thought…”

“I need to tell you something.”

“But I need to tell you something too! It’s important.”

“Let me go first?”

The plead comes out in a whisper, and who is Jaskier to reject Geralt like this, wide-eyed and earnest?

“I never meant for you to know, and certainly not on a night like this, but Jaskier…” Geralt heaves out a breath, determined and so so brave. Jaskier is drawn closer to Geralt’s body like a magnet, ready to soothe, to meet him halfway. “I am in love with you.”

“Geralt.”

“I know you don’t feel the same, and it’s okay. You make a living singing about loving. Hell, you make a living simply by loving. Music, adventures, people, so many people. It’s okay that your heart is too big for me. But, Jask, I can’t take it anymore.”

“I don’t…not…”

“You flirt with people. You…touch them and kiss them and praise them. It’s okay. It’s the way you are. I understand that when you do the same with me it doesn’t mean anything more, but, Jaskier, I need you to stop.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathes. “Do you hate it? I thought…differently.”

The smile that tugs at Geralt’s lips can only be described as crestfallen.

“The opposite. I love it too much. I’ll always want more. Always. I’m greedy like this.”

The guilt weighing down on Geralt’s shoulders is not a good sight, a personal offense to Jaskier. His hand reaches out on its own volition, tilting Geralt’s chin up so their gazes meet. The blush is back.

What did Jaskier do in his past life to deserve this man?

“That’s what I was going to say.”

“That you are greedy?”

The frown remains on Geralt’s face, and Jaskier smooths it with the pad of his thumb.

“No. That I am in love with you. Gods, for someone who’s not a bard, you sure know how to steal someone’s line from the beginning,” Jaskier chuckles. “I’ve been trying to tell you that I return your feelings. But alas, you know the coward that I am.”

“You are…not,” he protests, blinking.

The way Geralt defends him on instinct only makes Jaskier’s insides melt into a pool of fuzziness.

“In this, yes. How I fucked up so bad is a mystery. That’s just me I guess, trying to love you but ending up hurting you, making you feel like I’m stringing you along like anyone else.”

“I’m not?”

“No, you oaf.” Jaskier bops his nose. “You are the most important person in the world for me. This is the most important thing in the world to me! I love you and I love it when you blush. Also, I’d very much like to kiss you, if you want it too.”

Jaskier bites into his lips and watches as Geralt’s gaze drops to them, the pink of his cheeks spreading into the most gorgeous crimson. “I want to. Kiss you, that is.”

“Good.”

Jaskier wets his lips with a peak of the tongue and watches the same gesture returned. Even if the alcohol has left his system, the intoxication remains, only this time because of Geralt’s slightly dilated pupils and quickened breathing. He leans in, not being able to resist—

“Did you say ‘return my feelings’?” Geralt dodges away, looking incredulous. “Jaskier, did you know? And what was that about blushing?”

“Um…” Now Jaskier is the one to splutter. Luckily, he has a trick up his sleeves or two that can make sure Geralt forgets about every last thought there is.

Jaskier lunges forward and tackles his witcher onto the soft rug and kisses him within an inch of his life, deepening it like there’s no tomorrow. Judging by the dazed look on Geralt’s face as he comes up for air, the method is working.

Cupping Geralt’s rosy cheeks, Jaskier croaks proudly, “Tell you later?”

“We have all the later we need.” Geralt’s smile is blinding, and equally mischievous. Without a moment of pause, Jaskier ends up the one flipped onto his back and being kissed until he shudders with pleasure.

Jaskier has to thank Lambert properly one day, considering Geralt will certainly go after him with a vengeance.

For now, having Geralt on top of him and slowly melting into a contented mess should be enough. If he’s allowed, Jaskier vows silently, he would really like to make Geralt blush for him for the rest of his life.

~~

Jaskier will totally make it his life's mission to tease Geralt endlessly and see his beautiful blush. 🥰🥰

On another note, I challenged myself to write 2000 words exactly, and this ended up, um, 3000 words exactly. I’ll count it as a win anyway ;)

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#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #getting together #requited love #kissing #hand holding #winter at kaer morhen #soft jaskier #geralt of rivia blushes

[thefanbasewhore]

Can you do a soulmate Stucky x reader? I feel like you would write that so well, especially how you portrayed bucky in "are you mad at me" was so soft. The soulmate version would be so cute

Summary || Bucky and Steve meet their soulmate, which they had no idea existed.

Warning/content || fluff, a small explicit scene, fighting. Soulmate AU.

Paring || Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve rogers

I got a little carried away, but enjoy ❤️ not edited or beta read but I'm sleepy 😴

Bucky and Steve have had each other from the moment they have met. Imaging their surprise, being two little boys from Brooklyn seeing colors, something the two agreed to hide, pending the time period.

It was different now, a different time. They were accepted and while both of them loved each other, so very much, especially through the mind control, fighting each other, then for each other. They always knew something was missing.

A color, maybe even two, three. A part of them missing but they both collectively came to the conclusion that it was just that. Some missing colors, it happens sometimes.

It happens when they least expect it.

After Thanos, after Tony finally deciding to leave that kind of life behind, buying a small two bedroom house on the outskirts of the city. A home to grow old in, be together for the first time since before the war started but only one thing prevented that.

The house was a disaster, gutted to the foundations, no running water, green moss outside covered the whole house, the lawn completely out of control. For Bucky it was a hard no, it was a dump but the moment Steve fluttered those ridiculously long lashes, how could he say no?

So here they are, sweating on this 90 degree day, putting up new dry wall with no air-conditioning.

"What color should it be?" Steve asks, glancing to his dark haired lover, taking notice of his now shirtless appearance. Bucky let out a sigh, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Maybe we should get all of the walls up first."

Steve clicks his tongue, "I like the color green, like a nice pastel mint green."

"Whatever you want, honey." Bucky wasn't too picky, besides whatever made Steve happy, made him happy.

"Hello?" A sweet, feminine voice came from the kitchen. The doors left open because of the heat, there was nothing much in here anyways.

Steve pulls away from his task, pulling his shirt over his head to wipe his forehead with it. "Come in, we are in the kitchen."

Bucky wasn't too alarmed, Steve had told him previously that he hired a someone to make up the yard, nothing too fancy but the both of them were completely clueless when it came to plants, or gardens period.

"Quite a project you have going on here, Mr. Rogers." No doubt taking in the half gutted house along the way. While they have never met, they spoke on the phone briefly about his wants.

"You have no idea, Hun."

The woman looks around the kitchen first, noticing the freshly painted cabinet, the smell a dead giveaway, half eaten burgers thrown to the side on a small, make shift table with barely enough room to fit.

At first glance towards the man she notices the sharp jawline, defined but soft feature of the blonde as she greets him with a smile which soon drops in confusion as small dots of color appear. Stormy blue eyes with a full beard, Steve's mouth dropping agape as he notices the splirts of color - the missing colors for 106 years finally appear.

Bucky notices the tension in the room, shifting his attention from the wall to Steve, noticing how intensely he's staring, Bucky follows the line of vision and meets sweet eyes.

She's hit with another line of color, different from Steve's but now there's no more gray hue, bright yellows and blues. The outside is suddenly so bright and Bucky mouth drops.

This cannot be happening.

They sit there and stare for what seems like hours.

"I - ugh.." she starts, "What is happening?"

***

Sometimes life just throws curve balls, like finding out that your soulmate or in this cause soulmates are two, one hundred year old super soldiers who have already been in love with each other for over a decade.

The pull is already strong, nature intended for these souls to be together until death due part and honestly Bucky could feel it. With Steve he was used to the urge of wanting to have him close, kiss him every free minute he has but with the woman in front of him, it's new.

He doesn't even know her name, watches the way she nervously flickers from Steve's gaze to his own. She's beautiful.

Strong but delicate features, the curve of her nose is cute, cupid lips are so full... kissable. He can't stop staring, even with Steve and her in the mist of conversation. The make shift table cleared of all prior mess, Buck and Steve have to share a chair, which is quite comical, seeing two giant supersoldier try to share a small, old, dinning room seat.

Bucky's metal fingers twitch, metal plate click and whirl to life as he tights to urge to map her face out with his fingers. His heart is beating so fast, filled with so much... Love? Joy?

No matter how much Steve and Bucky try to hide it.. deep down they always knew, something was missing and in this case, someone.

"You're beautiful." The words catch both her and Steve off guard, Bucky blushes red something terrible but the sweet smile defuses the fire.

Well until she says something back, "You are too."

His whole face is hot and Steve reaches over to affectionately rub the back of his shoulder. Of course Steve was calm, he always is.

He handles things with lots of thought and understanding, while Buck is more hot headed, acts on the moment.

***

"It doesn't feel right." Bucky comments, watching from the window to insure she safely gets into the car. Steve sighs, by the time they're done talking darkness has filled the house. Steve affectionately squeezes the brunette's bicep, pressing a kiss to his hair.

"I know Bucky. This is a lot for her, for us. She needs to take time and reflect on this. She'll come to us when she's ready."

Bucky knows nothing then her name, and love for plants but chews at his bottom lip nervously. She's too far, the bond pulls at his heart strings. Now bonded forever. "What if she never comes back?"

"She will."

***

A few days pass, the kitchen is finally done, new appliances, new china and kitchen fully stocked. Steve is making something for Dinner - it smells amazing while Bucky starts painting the walls of the lifeless living room.

It's bare, not even something to sit on but no doubt with the stamina of two super soldiers it will be done by next week.

The knock on the front door is unexpected, but Bucky replies quickly. "I got it, Stevie!"

He expects some older, much wrinkly neighbor to be complaining about the noise of the nail gone or something this late at night. His mouth drops, a little shocked at the sight of her.

A very formal sitting dress, long and black, dips into a sweetheart neckline, the valley of her breasts easily visible. Hair is thrown into a neat updo, sexy and sleek.

Bucky clears his throat. "Hi." He squeaks out, feeling like a total idiot as he watches her nervously shift her weight from one heel to the other.

"Hi, I was in the area. A wedding for one my clients, thought I'd come say hello." Bucky wants to shake his head in disbelief that something so beautiful, just like Steve is made for him.

The universe sculpted and made two beautiful, breath taking human beings to be his and it's overwhelming. She's so pretty it's alarming.

It was a good excuse, the truth but not the real reason she stopped by. How could she tell them that they have been on her mind none stop? It physically hurts to be away for so long.

"Who is it, Buck?" Steve mumbles, interrupting the thick tension between the two.

"Come in, doll." Bucky's helps her with the jacket that lays over his shoulders, mentioning his head towards the direction of the kitchen, where his other lover is.

Steve is stunned none the less, he at least expected a few more days. Also, feeling much like Bucky, amazed by the radiating beauty.

He decides to play it cool, dimples forming with a breath taking smile. "Do you like spaghetti?"

Hours pass, time moves so fast with conversation, and adding wine to the mix surely didn't help.

The trio once again in the kitchen, but this time each have a chair, a new, more comfortable dinning set.

"You got this done fast. It's beautiful." She comments, "Colors are beautiful, I guess I have you two to thank for that."

Bucky shifts in his seat, the glass of wine is useless but still finds himself sipping from it. Her eyes are red, watery with a slight buzz.

"Do you feel it?" The question has both Bucky and Steve look at each other, watching her teary eyes as she presses a hand to sooth the ache in her chest. "It hurts, it hurts to be away. All week."

"It's normal." Steve answers just above a whisper, his next words make Bucky's bottom lip quiver. "I felt it every day for the last 5 years, Bucky was gone."

Bucky had never thought about it - there hasn't been enough time to. It's only been a month later since the return and it never occurred to him what Steve has gone through.

"Steve.." He starts, tears kiss his waterline as his fingers run through the blonde's hair. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't know, I -."

"Couldn't prevent it Buck. It happened but you're here now and.." Steve turns his attention towards the girl, tears slip past her eyelids. It's for Steve, for Bucky.. all the pain and suffering they've been through. "Hey, don't cry, it's alright beautiful."

It's feels right, despite barely knowing the man, nothing feel more right then being pulled into his chest as a large metal hand comforts her in a different way, rubbing the loose strands of hair as he murmurs. "We've got you now, you're our other half."

***

Months have past from that day. The house is finally done, everything they could have imagined with the additional of an extra tooth brush in the cup that sits on the bathroom sink, a pile of fuzzy blankets at the bottom of the bed and a five year old chocolate lab. Steve didn't mind much, he's always loved dogs, Bucky on the other hand...

"Alright, alright, Maverick." Bucky huffs, grocery bags in hand as the dog excitedly nuzzles his legs, following him throughout the house like it wasn't only an hour ago he's seen him. Once putting the bags down, hears the whine, big brown eyes staring up at him. Bucky sighs, dropping to a knee before petting the pup's head. "Alright you mutt, don't tell anyone about this."

"Too late, pal." Bucky jumps, hearing the amusement in Steve's voice, followed by the giggle of the woman that peers out from behind him. Wrapping her arms around Steve before testing her head against his shoulder.

"Caught you red handed, you love Mav." Bucky grumbles at her words, feeling two smaller hands wrap around his waist as a head falls into his chest. He presses a soft kiss into her hair before taking in the blonde that barely fits through the doorway he leans against.

Bucky's free hand reaches out, mentioning him closer but as she's soon finds herself in the middle of a super soldier sandwich. "Hi, baby." Bucky presses a kiss to the blonde's lips.

"Hi, pal."

***

"It's only one mission. That's it, we will be in and out." Steve promises, not liking the way his girls face twist into a worried expression.

Heavy eyes, lower lip sticking out to pout. "What if something happens? If you get hurt? Or if they find you, Bucky?"

"I told you, Hydra is gone, honey." Bucky's large hands sooth over her tight shoulders, pressing soft kisses to the back of her upper traps.

"No. You still have nightmares at least three times a week. This can't be good for you. And you." She turns her attention back towards Steve, "Barely sleep four hours a night. You carry the fault on your shoulders, you don't need anymore. I don't want you two to go."

"We don't have a choice. They were my family once, I owe this to them." Steve didn't miss the way her lips moves to form a snarl, not sparing another glance as she makes a b-line for the stairs.

Bucky sighs, leaning against the wall. "She's going to be mad at us." Rubbing his chest with hopes to ease the burn.

The bond pulls at their hearts, a slow, painful punishment for their actions.

They return two weeks later, tired, just wanting to see their girl. The moment they walk into the house they look at each other with will wild eyes, heart pumping as they fear the worse. The dog, the annoying wiggling tail that would bark is one where to be found, something is wrong.

It's alarming. "Where is that freaking mutt?"

Steve calls her name, but there is no answer. Bucky and him are searching the house, ascending the stairs, opening the bedroom door with a deep sigh of relief.

The stupid dog takes up half of the bed, but is cuddled into his owner. Arm draped around the ball of fur, amount as long as her.

The dog lifts his head, a little tail waggle as Steve stretches his ears, lowering to his knees and laying his top half over the bed to press loud, audible kisses to his ears. "Good boy, protecting our girl while we are gone."

When morning comes she notices the dog is still pressed against her, licking small stripes against her cheeks. "Have to go out, buddy?"

She barely makes it five steps before tripping over two rather large bodies, sleeping on a makeshift bed on the floor. Bucky groans and Steve's eyes flicker open.

"Why are you on the floor?"

"Wanted you to sleep pretty girl. Mav was taking up all the room and you looked like an angel." Bucky hums in agreement despite his eyes being closed.

"Mmm, well it's all free now." It's short, simple but the sarcastic tone has Bucky's eyes flickering to meet his boyfriend's. They both sigh, staring up at the ceiling, knowing it's going to be a long day.

And it is. She's does whatever she can to get away from them, only answers with short replies to the point Bucky can't take it anymore.

"Sweetheart," Bucky tries again but she doesn't acknowledge him, eyes stayed glued to the book. He gets fed up, metal plates click as artificial appendages run over the binding and pull it from her grasp.

"Give it back, James."

He cringes at the name, a displeased frown wears his face. "No, you have to talk to us."

"No."

"You're bring a brat." Bucky starts, watching her expression change from annoyed to anger, wrinkles of frustration pinch between her eyebrows.

"Buck - don't say that to her." Steve comments, it's his fault, he's the one who said yes without confiding in her first.

"She is, it's over with now. She has no right to be this mad."

"No right?" Her chest fills with emotion as a humourless chuckle causes both men to stiffen. "No right? Huh Buck? I sat here for two full weeks, no communication, nothing while the two of you are out there fighting God knows what after you swore, promised you would always be with me. Don't promise me forever if you're just going to throw yourself in danger! You're going to die and leave me, or worse! Both of you will."

No one says a word, only watch as her chest rises and falls with deep, heavy pants despite the tears that rolls past her eyes lashes.

"Honey, I'm sorry -."

"I don't want to hear it James, and you." She turns towards Steve, fire in her soul. "I thought you would understand, more then him, considering it has happened to you."

She leaves the room without another word, Buck turns towards Steve, watching the way he fights the tears that gather. The pain of loosing Bucky is still so fresh, "She's right Buck, we fucked up."

"I know, I know." He mumbles into Steve's shoulder, pulling him close.

***

"You're so good to me, sweet girl." Bucky moans as she shifts her hips against him, the blunt end of his cock hitting the spot inside her that makes her squeal for more.

Large hands squeeze her hips as Steve leans over to find his boyfriend's lips, kissing him through the gasps and whines of their girl's name as she circles her hips around Bucky.

Steve's hands pull at his hair, lips trailing from his lips, down his cheeks before nipping at his jaw.

"How does he feel honey?"

"So good, Stevie." For a second he's in a trance, watching the way her face contours with pleasure and the pain of her third orgasm well on its way.

Steve lays next to Buck, hand wrapping around his own heaviness between his legs as he stokes it, switching between her face of pleasure to Bucky's, who bites his lip to suppress a moan.

It's short lived as hips stutter against her own, coating her walls with his warm cum.

Steve barely gives her time to recover, positioning her on his hands and knees before hovering over her ear and nibbling on it. "My turn, honey."

***

Her hands nervously shake, the kitchen table is all set up, dinner is ready but at the moment she doesn't have an appetite.

Between this morning sickness, the overall change her body is under going, food makes her sick. The opening of the front door makes her sit up straight, sucking in a deep breath.

Two voices conversationing in the hall, "I thought I said for you to lock the door when we leave." Buck is clearly annoyed, it's been a long day but Steve rubs his shoulders, mumbling something incoherent.

Upon entering the kitchen, they both grow worried. Face drained of color, red blotchy eyes with shaky hands.

"Hey, hey." Steve drops to his knees in front of her seat in an instant, hands curling around her wrist as worried steel blue eyes follow his stance, reaching over to stroke her cheek. "What is it? What happened?"

"I'm pregnant." She pauses, "I'm scared, I'm scared. What if someone comes for you? How are we supposed to raise a baby? What if it has the serum, will it ever be safe?"

The questions fill Bucky with dread, how much though put into every sentence, every word is like a new hit of pain to his body but he stays strong. For his girl, he leans forward, wiping the tears away from discolored cheeks. "Everything is going to be fine babydoll, you're going to be fine, our baby is going to be fine."

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky fluff #fatws bucky #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #steve x bucky #steve x reader #stucky x you #stucky x y/n #stucky x reader #stucky

[spacexcowgirl]

Hate To Think About You With Somebody Else - F.W.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Fred and Y/N used to be friends with benefits, but that arrangement ended in heartbreak. Can Fred handle seeing her out with somebody else?

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: 18+ NSFW. MINORS DNI. Mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood, small bit of violence/fight scene (the reader and Fred are not injured), possessive talk, fingering, degradation, bondage, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, a bit angsty with a happy ending. Please let me know if I’ve forgotten anything!

A/N: For @theweasleytwinsgirl​ who asked for the reader teasing Fred, leading to her being tied up! I added a bit of plot to it, because I cannot help it. Obviously, this fic is lightly inspired by “Somebody Else” by The 1975. I am not very confident in my smut writing abilities, so any feedback would be appreciated! I also feel I should thank @lumosandnoxwriting for giving me advice and reassurance throughout writing this. Pictures are from Pinterest.

I have not included all of my general taglist, because I do not know who is 18+ or who wants to be tagged in smut.

Fred, George, Angelina, and Alicia sat leisurely around the twins’ shared living room, laughing and giggling over drinks. The past few weeks had been hell at the shop, so the boys felt they needed a much deserved night to just relax. Previously, Fred would have liked nothing more than to relieve his tension with Y/N, but unfortunately, that was no longer an option. 

“Have you heard about Y/N and Pucey?” Angelina prodded with a giggle, her eyes alit with mischief. 

Fred’s jaw immediately clenched at the sound of her name, his grip on his glass tightening. He most certainly hadn’t heard about her in a few weeks, and he hadn’t expected to have such a visceral reaction at the mere mention of her name. Regaining his composure, he forced himself to relax a bit and quirk a brow, feigning both confusion and interest.

“No? They shagging?” George questioned, sitting forward in his seat.

“Apparently, but I guess it’s becoming a bit more serious than just that.” Angelina shrugged, turning her gaze to Alicia beside her for confirmation. When the second girl nodded, Fred downed another gulp of his drink.

That can’t be right, he thought. It hadn’t even been a month since the last time they had been together, Y/N pinned beneath him as breathy moans escaped her lips. In the dim light of his bedroom, she had whispered to him that her pussy was his, that she was his, and now, apparently, she was with someone else. Some part of him knew that he had no right to be upset, because truthfully, it was his choice to end their little arrangement. But she had left him no choice after breaking their number one rule.

Y/N and Fred had ventured past friendly acquaintanceship about a year before, after a few too many firewhiskys at an infamous Weasley twins’ party. The morning after, they had tiptoed around each other, clearly uncomfortable by the change in dynamic. But it didn’t take long for it to happen again, and again, and again. Before either of them had really realized it, they had become much more than friends but much less than really together, and Fred wanted to keep it that way. He wanted them to remain in that middle ground.

As far as he knew, Y/N was more than fine with where they stood with each other. Until one day, she wasn’t. He remembered clearly how she had bit her lip and gazed at him, only moments after finishing him off with her mouth. He had looked at her curiously, wondering where her usual, joking, post-coital self had gone. 

“Have you ever thought of me as more than, you know, just an easy fuck?”

Her words had shocked him, because they certainly weren’t the turn of phrase he would have used. He didn’t think of her as ‘an easy fuck,’ he thought of her as a friend. Someone he cared deeply for. But as he gazed into her desperate eyes, he was struck with the realization that he didn’t care for her the way she hoped. He had swallowed deeply, preparing his words in his mind, before shattering her heart.

Now, he wasn’t sure why he cared. Sure, he had thought about her a lot in the weeks they’d been apart, but he was always so sure that he had made the right choice. Relationships were messy, and he was young, so he had no intention to be tied down so soon. Still, the thought of her with Adrian Pucey made his blood boil, and he wished desperately that he could put an explanation to the feeling.

“Fred?” 

The sound of his name tore him from his thoughts of Y/N, and he quickly plastered on his signature goofy grin before sitting forward and re-immersing himself in the conversation. Still, in the back of his mind, images of Y/N and Adrian played on repeat, fueling a fire that he hadn’t realized was a lit within him.

-

A week later, Fred found himself at a party at Oliver Wood’s flat, celebrating a win for Puddlemere United. There was an array of different people there, ranging from his old Hogwarts team, to groupies, to people who had just showed up at the mention of a party. Fred had planned on getting drunk that night, but after seeing George and Lee sloppily grinding on a few witches in an intoxicated bliss, he decided maybe—for once—he would be the responsible one.

Fred had gone nearly an hour, just barely nursing a glass of firewhisky and chatting with old friends jovially, before his eyes landed on a familiar face entering the party. 

Fred was frozen at the eye contact they held, his first time seeing her in weeks. Y/N held the gaze for a moment, before turning to grip Adrian’s wrist behind her and drag him further into the party. If Fred thought he had a strong reaction to hearing about their relationship, it was nothing compared to actually seeing it. Fred slammed his drink down and walked away from the poor girl he had been chatting with without so much as an explanation.

“Let’s get out of here.” Fred clapped a hand down on George’s shoulder the moment he reached him, pulling his attention away from the girl dancing against him.

“Now?” George questioned incredulously, his brows raising. He gestured to the girl in his arms before returning a pleading look to his brother. “Come on, mate. This isn’t a great time.”

Fred knew he could convince his brother to leave if he explained, but his mouth felt entirely too dry. He couldn’t seem to formulate the words as to why he needed to get out of there. So, instead, he sighed and offered his brother a nod before retreating back to the outskirts of the people dancing.

Normally, Fred was the life of the party. By this point in the night, he’d usually be plastered and singing or dancing with no remorse. But seeing Y/N with a bloke like Pucey caused him to have an entire demeanor change, leaving him scowling leaned against the wall.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to find Y/N amongst those dancing, pressed closely to Pucey behind her. She was dancing provocatively, even turning in the man’s grasp every little bit to kiss him sloppily. At first, Fred had been almost certain that she was doing it on purpose. The way she was right in his line of vision, acting completely out of character in her open demeanor, it all felt like too much for him to handle. 

Then, she made eye contact with him, and held it, and he just knew. She was doing it on purpose. All of her actions had been a way to get him worked up, to see if he would get jealous, and dammit it was working. Fred chewed on the inside of his cheek, holding her gaze as she grinded her bum against Pucey. She held his gaze as she slowly craned her neck and pulled Adrian into a searing kiss, her eyes back on Fred the moment the two pulled apart.

That was the final straw for Fred. He wasn’t going to stand idly by while she taunted him so openly, showing him everything he was missing. So, he pushed through the crowd of people and found his way to the two of them, ignoring the small smirk that had risen on her face. 

“Y/N,” He breathed out, just loud enough for her to hear over the music. Suddenly, he was entirely unsure of his next move, but he desperately wanted to regain control over the situation. So, he said the first thing that came to mind. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Oi, what the hell, Weasley?” Adrian paused his dancing, although his hands remained gripped on Y/N’s waist. “Can’t you see we’re a little busy here?”

Fred completely ignored the man at first, his eyes never leaving Y/N. He could see by the look on her face that he had played exactly into what she wanted, but with the jealousy coursing through him, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. She smirked slightly at Fred before craning her neck to look back at Adrian, almost as if she were challenging him to fight for her further. 

“I can see,” Fred seethed, finally looking up at Adrian. “I can see a poor girl not having a very good time. So, I’m offering her a better option. Why don’t you let her decide?”

Adrian scoffed, taking a small step back from Y/N but keeping one hand on her hip. He looked down at her, waiting expectantly for her to deny any desire to go off with Fred. When she simply glanced between the two of them, Adrian’s brows furrowed and a look of offense overtook his features.

“Come on, Y/N.” He pleaded. “Tell him.”

Y/N bit down on her lip, the action only infuriating Adrian further. He looked at her incredulously before scoffing and turning his head away.

“Should’ve known a desperate little slut like you couldn’t be loyal.”

In an instant, Fred pushed Y/N out of the way and landed a hard blow to Adrian’s jaw. Y/N was dazed, everything seeming to move in slow motion as all eyes turned on them. Adrian had faltered only for a moment, cupping his jaw in his hand before straightening up and lunging towards Fred.

Luckily, George and Lee were there after a moment, tearing Adrian away and threatening to pummel him as they marched him towards the door. Y/N knew Fred wouldn’t need their help in a fight, but she was still grateful that a full out brawl hadn’t occurred because of her. Y/N rushed to Fred, cradling his fist in her hand and glancing up at his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was soft, but the music had stopped, so he could hear her.

“‘m fine.” He answered curtly, glancing between the way she held his hand and her eyes. “So, can we get out of here?”

Y/N’s lips formed into a tight line, so as to conceal the smirk that desperately wanted to break through. She offered him a quick nod, and in an instant he was dragging her out the door and apparating her back to his flat.

The moment that they were in Fred’s room and the door shut, his lips were on hers. Her back was pressed up against his door, desperate little moans leaving her mouth as she reveled in the feeling of having him against her once more. Fred took the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth when her lips parted, taking full control of the situation.

Y/N was more than content to let him take over, having missed him in their time apart more than she would ever like to admit. Of course, the feelings she still held for him lingered strongly, but she tried not to think about that as Fred pressed himself further against her. Adrian had been nothing more than a distraction, a feeble hope that she had held onto as a way to get over the tall red head, but it clearly hadn’t worked. She felt a bit bad, because she knew Adrian cared about her far more deeply than she did him, but she also knew she had made it clear she didn’t want a relationship. The irony was sickening.

“That was quite a show you were putting on tonight.” Fred pulled away from her breathlessly, his eyes tracking up and down her body.

“Yeah?” Y/N cocked her head to the side, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you mean, I was just having a bit of fun.”

A low growl crawled out of his throat as he pressed his lips to hers once more, using more force than previously. Y/N squeaked at the intensity, but quickly melted into him. His hands trailed up and down her sides as she rested her own around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

Fred’s hands finally made their way to the hem of her shirt, his fingers ghosting over the skin of her stomach and sending a shockwave throughout her. Slowly, he trailed his fingers up, raising her shirt up in his wake. Y/N was quick to oblige, breaking away from him to allow him to tear the garment off completely. 

For a moment, Fred’s eyes trailed over her slightly revealed form, drinking in the way she looked half-naked. He hadn’t realized how much he missed seeing her like this, and he found that his breath hitched at even the littlest bit of exposure.

As his eyes met her pleading ones, he quickly recovered. Their passion resumed in an instant as he pressed his lips to hers once more, spinning her away from the door and walking her backwards towards his bed. Y/N allowed him to lightly push her back onto it, her heart fluttering at the sudden gentleness of his actions. She’d always loved the dominance he held over her, but something about what was happening between them now felt different. But, as he draped his body over her own, all of her hopes of actual romance melted away and her mind was entirely clouded with just the appeal of him.

Y/N arched herself against Fred, giving him the space to unclasp her bra. He slid the straps down her arms slowly, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her jaw and neck, until he finally met the tops of her breasts. He cast her bra aside, shooting her one last look before taking a pebbled nipple into his mouth. Y/N moaned at the contact, her fingers immediately threading themselves through his flaming hair. As his teeth gently grazed her nipple she gave his hair a tug, causing him to moan against her.

Fred continued his trail downward, planting kisses down her torso until he made it to the band of her leggings. Y/N lifted her hips and Fred held eye contact with her as he slowly pulled them down her legs. Y/N realized that he seemed to be drawing all of this out, pushing her to the point of pure desperation to make her pay for teasing him all night. Still, she bit her tongue and held back any thoughts of pleading with him, she couldn’t give in that easy.

When she was left in nothing but her panties, Fred sat back on his knees and leisurely unbuttoned his shirt. Y/N watched him intently, her frustration increasing significantly, until she could no longer contain it. She let out a desperate whine, pleading with the man with her eyes alone.

“Something wrong, love?” Fred cocked his head to the side and smirked.

“Freddie,” Y/N whined, the nickname feeling foreign yet fitting on her tongue.

Fred discarded his shirt before circling his hand around on of her ankles and hitching it up on his shoulder. He placed a soft kiss to the inside of her ankle before slowly trailing kisses back up her leg towards her thigh. Y/N shuttered as his lips ghosted over her clothed pussy, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Please.”

Fred looped one finger under the hem of her lace panties, but made no effort to pull them down. When a low chuckle escaped his lips, Y/N knew she was in trouble. Her eyes flew open once more, immediately meeting his darkened, lust-filled ones.

“Did you really think I’d give in that easy?” Fred mocked, punctuating his question by snapping the band of her underwear. “You tease me all night, putting on a show for me, acting like a desperate little slut.” He paused to wet his lips, drinking in the soft moan that escaped from her lips. “That is what you are, isn’t it?”

“Only for you, Freddie.” 

“Really?” Fred scoffed, sitting back up to begin fiddling with his belt. Y/N raised herself up on her forearms, desperation and arousal pooling in her core. “Because it didn’t seem that way tonight.” Fred’s tongue darted out of his mouth, swiping over his bottom lip as he gazed at her hungrily. “Think maybe I might need to remind you whose slut you are. What do you think?”

She whimpered, but managed a feeble nod. In their previous times together, her and Fred were nothing if not adventurous in the bedroom. Still, as he waved his wand and bound her wrists to his headboard, she couldn’t help but gasp and lightly fight against the restraints. Fred held a devilish smirk at her plight as he stood from the bed and sat his wand back down.

Fred crawled back over her, his intense dominance faltering for just a moment as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Still remember the safe word, yeah?”

“Yes, Freddie.” She managed to speak, although it was difficult. Fred leaned back and searched her eyes for a moment before leaning in and placing a soft kiss to her lips. After that, any sense of gentleness faded.

Fred’s lips sucked and bit at her neck hungrily, one of his large hands trailing down to rub her through her panties while the other massaged her breast. Y/N’s thighs clamped around his hand, which quickly earned her a light swat to her hip.

“Stay still, or I’ll have no problem tying your legs up too.” Fred growled against her neck.

Y/N quickly obliged, spreading her legs further open. While previously she may have been more inclined to push Fred a bit, her mind was too clouded with lust to do anything but obey him. After weeks of mediocre sex with Adrian, she was ready to completely give herself over to Fred, and let him have her in anyway he wanted.

Fred’s hand pushed the fabric of her panties aside, allowing one finger to drag through her wet folds. She was already soaking wet for him, despite the fact he’d hardly touched her. Without a warning, he plunged one finger into her, lightly moaning at the way she constricted around him. Y/N’s back arched ever so slightly against him, tugging futilely against her bound wrists. He set a steady pace, thrusting his finger in and out of her before adding another and scissoring the two. He changed pace after a moment, beginning to curl his fingers up into her as his thumb rubbed circles against her waiting clit. The pressure in her core grew quickly from that, and she couldn’t help the way she loudly moaned out.

“Right there, yes, oh god…”

Fred was now smirking as he pulled away from her neck, significantly satisfied with the many markings he’d left as well as how quickly he could bring her to this point. He knew her body like the back of his hand, he knew her signs for when she was close, and it made it so much easier to enact his plan.

Just as Y/N was teetering on the edge, desperate whines and random babbles leaving her lips, Fred pulled his hand away. She let out a frustrated and confused groan, her eyes flying open as she felt the build up slowly slip away. Fred just grinned at her, before getting off the bed and ridding himself of his trousers and boxers. He lazily stroked himself as he took her in, chest heaving and covered in a light sheen of sweat, completely at his mercy. She had stopped her attempts at fighting her restraints, looking at him like she were almost defeated. In her mind, she’d begun to fear the very real possibility that Fred wouldn’t let her cum at all.

“You seem frustrated.” Fred cooed mockingly, coming to lean back over her and gently brush her cheek. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Fred.” Y/N spoke firmly, though her eyes portrayed her fears. “You’ve got to let me finish.”

“Hm.” Fred seemed to ponder that, leaning back to slowly pull her panties down her legs. “I don’t think I have to do anything. In fact, I could just leave you here all tied up and needy.”

“Please,” Y/N whined, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. “I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“It’s a start.” Fred tutted, finally discarding her panties aside. He leaned down near her ear once more, his warm breath sending a chill down her spine. “What I’d really like, though, is to hear how much you need me. Wanna hear you say it.”

“Please, Freddie, I need your cock so bad. Need you to ruin me.” Y/N cried out, losing all sense of dignity as her sex-addled brain took over. Fred had intended to tease her much longer, but her desperate pleas were going straight to his cock, and he couldn’t hold out any longer.

“That’s all you had to say, love.”

Fred hitched her leg around his hip, gripping his cock in his free hand. He teased the head through her wet folds, shivering at the moan she let out from just the smallest contact. Then, he pushed his hips forward, not stopping until he was completely buried in her. Their low moans mixed together in the quiet of the room, Fred being careful not to move until he was sure she had adjusted to his size.

“Fuck, I forgot how fucking good you feel.” He groaned, burying his face in her neck.

“Move… Please.”

He needed no further encouragement. Fred pulled out about halfway before snapping his hips back forward, setting a brutal but steady pace. Y/N’s loud moans and Fred’s grunts mixed together, accompanied only by the sound of their skin on skin contact. Y/N could feel her orgasm building again as his dick hit her g-spot with every thrust, and she was almost embarrassed by how quickly he could bring her to this point. 

“‘m so close, Freddie.” Y/N breathed out, knowing it would only infuriate him further if she came without his permission.

“Already?” Fred scoffed, although he knew he wasn’t far behind. 

Still, he wasn’t ready for things to end so soon, so he pulled out completely, ignoring the desperate whine that left her throat. He pulled both of her legs together and pushed her knees up against her chest, holding her ankles together with one hand before thrusting back into her desperate cunt. The new position allowed him to hit deeper within her as he thrust downward, causing Y/N to scream out. The pain was delicious, it was everything she had longed for in their time apart.

“You really think you deserve to cum?” Fred grunted, landing a particularly hard thrust into her. “After everything you pulled tonight?”

“Please.” Y/N whined. She was so close, she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it if he stole another orgasm from her.

“Answer the question, slut.” Fred demanded, his pace quickening ever so slightly. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? A desperate little cum slut.”

“Yes.” Y/N cried out. “But only for you, Freddie. Just a slut for you.”

“That’s right.” Fred’s rhythm had begun to falter, approaching his own orgasm quickly. Still, he was unsure if he’d let her finish or not. “You’re my little slut. Only I get to call you that, right?”

“Yes, Freddie.” Y/N whined, beginning to tug again on her restraints. She wanted nothing more than to scrape her nails down his back, but being completely at his mercy turned her on endlessly.

“Good.” Fred was close, so fucking close, but he had made his decision. So he had to hold off. “Cum for me, then. You’ve earned it.”

That was all the encouragement she needed, and as Fred hit one more thrust into her g-spot she was tumbling over the edge. Electricity seemed to shoot all throughout her body as she loudly moaned out his name. Her legs were shaking and she was certain she’d be sore tomorrow, but she had little time to care about that as he continued to pound into her.

Y/N knew Fred well, just as well as he knew her, so she knew he was close. Her mind felt almost entirely blank and she wasn’t sure she had much energy for anything, but she wanted to bring him to his release badly. So, she clenched around him, a moan leaving her lips when he stuttered and groaned. His thrusts were faltering significantly, and after a few moments he was crying out her name as he finished in her. 

Fred pulled out and dropped her legs before crashing down next to her. He knew that he needed to untie her, but they also both just needed a moment to breathe. All that could be heard was the sounds of their mixed pants as they both came down from their highs. Once he was significantly more relaxed, he gripped his wand and swished it lazily, effectively removing the restraints she was held in.

Y/N hands dropped down and she quickly went to rub at her wrists, but Fred was quick to bat her hands away and do it himself. He examined both wrist closely, seeming to want to ensure that they were okay.

“They weren’t too tight, were they?” Fred implored after a moment. His genuine concern made her heart flutter, and she couldn’t help herself as she leaned in and placed a soft kiss to his lips.

“No, they were perfect—all of it was perfect.” She sighed as she pulled away from him. Her general cognition was beginning to return, and with it her fears of all of the pain she had gone through in the past etched their way through.

Sure, Fred had clearly gotten jealous at the party. Then, he had gotten possessive and claimed her in the bedroom. But that didn’t necessarily mean that he harbored the same feelings for her that she had for him. The fear nearly paralyzed her, and she wasn’t sure if she should quickly redress and flee the room or implore what this all meant. Luckily, he answered her internal questioning before she even had to ask.

“I don’t want to see you out with Pucey.” Fred sighed, his eyes not meeting hers. “Which is a total prat thing to say, but it’s true. I don’t want to see you out with any bloke, really.”

“Fred…” Y/N spoke tentatively, her eyes begging him to speak further.

“I want you, Y/N. Like, really.” Fred finally met her gaze. “Not just in my bed.”

“What, do you want me on the couch too?” Y/N tried to joke, hoping it would cover up her nervous tone. But it didn’t. So, her voice became soft. “Don’t get my hopes up, Freddie.”

“I’m being serious.” He shook his head. “I want to take you out on fancy dates, or watch movies with you on my couch. Bloody hell, I want to bring you to my parent’s house for Sunday dinners. I don’t know, I’m not good at this. Whatever it is that couples do.”

“Fred Weasley,” A small smile had begun to grow on Y/N’s face. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Yes.” Fred answered earnestly. “That is, only if you’re going to say yes. Otherwise, this was all just a joke—”

Y/N shut him up by pressing her lips to his, her mouth still curled upwards in a smile. It was impossible to hide the genuine happiness that his words brought her.

“Yes.” She answered softly as she pulled away.

A similar smile began to grow on Fred’s face as he completely registered her words, and he couldn’t help but dive back in for another kiss. Y/N was his, completely. Something he’d probably wanted for so long, but had simply been too daft to realize it. Now, as he held her in his arms, he promised himself he’d never make such a mistake again.

Tagging a few 18+ mutuals from my usual taglist: @wand3ringr0s3 @gcdric @theweasleysredhair 

#fred weasley smut #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #Fred Weasley fanfic

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Hiii Hii!!! May I request for Draco🥺

Fluff prompt 3: "It's you. It's always been you."

Steams scenes 6: "Touch Me"

And miscellaneous 12: only one bed AU

Thank youuu❣️

Travelling Companions  // Draco Malfoy

a/n: NSFW - minors DNI. FEMALE READER. 2k words (not really a blurb anymore), and the fic that has inspired my latest series so pieces of this will be taken and used there that’s why this may feel very rushed. The series will be slower. 

Fluff 3: “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Steamy Scenes 6: “Touch me.”

Misc 12: only one bed.

Upon the end of the Second Wizarding War and the disgrace of his family, Draco Malfoy left the country. There was very little keeping him tied to England; a family torn apart by their beliefs, a cold house that was not a home, an inheritance built off the very hatred pedalled by his father.

No, Draco Malfoy did not want to stay in the country.

Similarly, you refused to stay at home too. Having seen the lifeless bodies of your friends, the nightmares had become too much for you to remain at home. Instead, you packed up your things, kissed your parents on the cheeks, promising to send them a postcard from every destination.

It’s in Italy where the two of you cross paths.

The night was unusually warm; sweat rolling down your back as you walked through the thick crowds on the Ponte Vecchio. You had no distinct aim of your night; happy to wander until the early hours of the morning, falling into your bed with very little to think about other than your plans for the following day.

It’s as your dodging multiple bodies that you spy a shock of blonde hair that you swear was familiar.

“Draco?” You call, watching the tall figure pause, “Draco Malfoy?”

The blonde turns at the sound of your voice.

“Of all the people to meet in Florence,” You smile, “What are you doing here?”

“An extended gap year as the muggles would call it,” He answers, looking mildly uncomfortable at being recognised abroad.

“Well,” You nod, “It was nice to see you, enjoy the rest of your travels.”

Draco nods, a small, polite smile on his face. He doesn’t say anything to which you turn away, continuing your journey across the bridge in the hopes of finding something to eat and soon.

“(Y/N)!” Draco calls after a moment.

You turn back to the man, finding him only a few steps behind you. His eyes are bright, cheeks flushed as he asks, “What are your plans for tonight?”

“I was going to get some food and then walk about aimlessly. Why?”

“Can I join you?” He asks; the words leaving his mouth in such a rush that Draco looks shocked at the speed. “What I mean to say is: would you like some company? It would be nice to catch up with a friendly face.”

“Of course,” You laugh, “You’re more than welcome to join me.”

Draco falls into step beside you as you wander the length of the bridge, both eagerly looking for a restaurant to catch up in.

Conversation flows naturally with the blonde, as does the laughter and the wine. You reminisce over the lighter days of your education, as well as sharing countless stories of your travels, finding yourself enjoying Draco’s company far more than you expected.

“Where are you going to next?” Draco asks, grey eyes inquisitive as he sips at his red wine.

“Greece,” You answers, “I’m island hopping for a little while. I’ve heard stories of an island that feels like the end of the world, and I want to check it out. Where are you off to next?”

“Greece, if you can believe it,” He answers, topping up your wine glasses with the dregs of the bottle.

“I’ve a proposition for you, Malfoy,” You announce over your refreshed glass of red wine. “I’ve grown tired of travelling alone, I miss conversation and company. We’re both travelling to Greece next – why don’t you join me?”

Draco ponders your proposition through his next bite of food, weighing up the pros and cons through a mouthful of Tagliatelle Funghi Porcini e Tartufo. “Alright,” He eventually says, wiping his mouth on a cloth napkin, “I’ll join you. I’ve grown lonely on my travels too.”

Your shoulders sag as Draco’s words wash over you. It had become lonely travelling alone, that much was true, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were meant to run into Draco tonight. That there was something bigger at play.

-------

The Ionian Islands were beautiful; travelling with Draco at your side made it easier for you to rest at night, no longer plagued by nightmares as often, but it gave you someone to talk to when the night had been bad.

Kefalonia held its own charm; its quiet punctuated only by the clinking of wine glasses on the wine tours shared with Draco.

Your time on the Ionian Islands had you seeing Draco in a different light; the sun had bronzed his skin and you couldn’t help but stare when his shirt came off at the beach. Something was changing between the two of you; the both of you lingering on a night, not wanting to be the one to say good night, not wanting to be the one to draw it all to a close.

You could only hope that things would change soon.

---------

“Are we staying in the port?” Draco asks, eyeing you carefully as you hold your hand out for a taxi. Wearing black slacks and a white t-shirt, Draco was unintentionally drawing the attention of most women and men in the port of Skiathos

“Nope,” You answer as the taxi pulls up beside you both, “We’re staying in Troulos.”

The hotel was a small, family run establishment that you had read about in one of the many travel guides bought before you left England. Draco leaves you to check in, letting you admire the scenery as you wait patiently for him to return.

The owner is the one to lead you both through the hotel, smiling politely at you as he leaves you outside your room, explaining the opening times for the bar and the pool.

“There’s only one bed, Draco,” You state obviously as you enter the room, pointing to the bed in offence.

“I noticed,” He deadpans, fixing you with an unimpressed look. “Look, I’m not sleeping on the tiled floor. So, we either share, or you sleep on the floor.”

“Ever the gentleman,” You drawl, arching a single eyebrow. Draco smirks as he bows; the motion executed perfectly, highlighting his very expensive etiquette lessons as a small boy. “Fine,” You huff, dropping your bag onto the bed, “We share, but I’m warning you now, Malfoy, I hog the blankets.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” The blonde snorts, wandering to the bathroom where you hear the shower begin to flow.

Settling down on the bed, you press a hand to your forehead, already sticky with sweat. Your stomach turned with butterflies as you think of the night to come, sharing a bed with Draco. The feelings for the man had surprised you; you hadn’t expected to feel anything for him, simply happy to have company on the last leg of your travels, but here you were – craving his touch and his attention as if it were your lifeline.

The shower turns off, and you jump up, grabbing your toiletries in an effort to give you something to do to draw your mind from the sight of Draco in a towel.

“I’m going to shower and get ready, and then we’ll go get some food, okay?” You call out, pushing past the blonde as he leaves the bathroom in nothing, but a small, fluffy, white towel wrapped around his waist.

“I’ll be waiting!” Draco calls out, laughter rich in his voice.

As you sink against the bathroom door, it’s then that you realise, you’re fucked.

-------

It became a quick tradition on your travels with Draco that you would alternate who would pick the restaurant that evening. As you chose where to eat the previous night, it was now Draco’s turn.

The restaurant he chooses is quaint, set off just from the main road running through that part of the island. It’s fairly busy, many families laughing and drinking through the evening.

The waitress hands you the menus, her eyes lingering on Draco a little bit too long for you to feel comfortable. You smile politely as you give her your drink orders, immediately feeling awful for the curtness of your tone when you had no claim to the man sat next to you.

Food is ordered and conversation continues to flow, but you find yourself caught up in the way that Draco makes you feel. Every glance, every smile, every unintentional touch – it leaves you close to breathless with butterflies raging in your gut and your heart close to pounding out of your chest. You had never felt like this, and your poor heart could only hope that Draco felt the same.

When the food arrives, it doesn’t take long for you to gush over the meal. “You have to try this!” You cry out as you take your first bite of your meal, gathering another forkful for Draco. “It’s wonderful!”

Holding your fork out, you expect Draco to take the utensil from you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans in, his lips wrapping around the fork in a manner that leaves you hungry for something that certainly wasn’t food.

“What do you think?” You ask huskily, throat dry.

Draco chews, pondering over the food. A smirk gathers on his lips as he swallows, “Delectable.”

The both of you fall silent as your meals are finished; the only sound between you being the scraping of cutlery on plates, but you cannot help but wonder whether Draco can hear the pounding of your heart every time he smiles at you, or whether he can sense the change in your feelings as you yearn for him silently.

“You were jealous – of the waitress – weren’t you?” Draco’s voice sounds, breaking your reverie. Blinking, you find him watching you with a curious look on his face.

“Yes,” You confess in a single breath, shifting your gaze from Draco’s, fiddling with the napkin in front of you.

“There was no need.”

“Oh?”

“It’s you,” He breathes, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, “It’s always been you.”

“Take me back to the room, Draco,” You whisper, leaning into his touch.

Draco wastes no time paying the bill, whisking you from the restaurant and down the road to your hotel.

The door slams against the wall as you both fall into the room; hands pulling at clothing, lips attached save for the breathy laughter filling the room. He tastes of the anise instilled into the Ouzo shared at dinner; his lips fit seamlessly against yours as he backs you through to the bedroom, his hands wandering – memorising every dip and curve of your body.

Draco lays you out on the bed gently as if worried of hurting you in some form or another.  

“What do you want?” Draco asks, grey eyes bright in the muted light of the room.

“You,” You state, sitting up on the bed, pressing your hands to the man’s bare chest, scraping your fingernails down his pale skin.  

Draco shivers at your touch, barely repressing the low groan growing in the back of his throat. “Where do you want me?” He hums, not giving you the time to answer the question as he begins his onslaught of addictive kisses.

“Here?” He purrs, kissing your jaw. “Or here?” He asks, dropping a feather light kiss to your neck, pushing you back onto the bed. “What about here?” Draco teases, pressing blazing kiss after blazing kiss down the centre of your cleavage to the top of your underwear leaving you a wanton mess as you writhe underneath him.

“Darling,” He whispers, “What do you want from me?”

“Touch me,” You all but beg, reaching for the blonde’s hand, fitting it where you need him most.

It’s then that all self-control Draco had snaps; his hand slips into your underwear, fingers slipping through your slick folds. The gasp that leaves your mouth is swallowed by Draco’s lips, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip as he wrings every single ounce of pleasure from your body.

No nightmares are had that night; finding peace in each other as you sleep wrapped up together in the one bed.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco smut #draco malfoy fanfiction #moments with millie #draco malfoy blurb #blurb night #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines

[barzzal]

between halls and thin walls → part three

summary: friends who fool around almost never work. almost.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: fingering, fem and male receiving, mentions of pornography, sexual/suggestive themes, swearing, mat not knowing how to eat pussy, anddd too much sneaking around i’m hating myself for it

↳ genre: fluff, angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+

↳ length: series; part one, part two, part three (8.6k), part four, part five, part six

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: god is fair, sexy nasty, cinderella, planet god damn by mac miller

note: so sorry for the wait! have been a lot busier with uni :(( took weeks for me to finally sit down and write on my laptop to finish this aaaah anw here’s the update and i’m making it up to yall i hope you like!! happy reading babies <3

“Wait–” you break off, your fingers already weaving through his ever so gorgeous hair. 

“What about Tito?” you fret.

You’re sure there was at least a hint of annoyance in his voice. Possibly irked that you had to ruin the one thing you both have been craving for for weeks.

“He won’t come home, trust me.” he says, lips already making its way back to touch your skin, nestling on your jawline, before trailing down to the intricate line of your neck, his movement hasty with a sense of hunger and urgency. 

You didn’t mind. It felt good. 

“Okay– no. Let’s stop this for a sec.” you try to snap out of it, pushing him away but just enough to keep him within arms reach. You rest both your hands on his broad shoulders whilst he rests his on your hips, just a few inches above your ass. 

“We need to clear things out.” you start, eyes lingering on his irises, making you wet your lips at the sight. 

“Didn’t we clear things out thrice now?” he quirks his brows, “And it kinda looks like we’re about to clear the same thing for the fourth time. What’s not clear about it?” Mat kids, half laughing as he lets you punch him playfully, “I’m not kidding, Barz.” you say, clearing your throat. 

You didn’t mind for any of his double entendres but you did mind the fact that whatever’s about to happen tonight is bound to tip the scales of whatever it was that you were having with Mathew.

“Fine. Let’s talk,” he agrees. He walks towards the bed just as he began pulling his shirt off over his head to undress himself.

“Mathew!” you call him yet again, earning yourself a defensive shrug from him, “What? We’re gonna have sex either way might as well talk while we’re at it, right?” he counters, “Now, take your clothes off.”

Regardless of being annoyed at him for acting like an unreasonable child engaging in too much banter, you let out a laugh in disbelief, letting Mathew’s quirks have a hold on you. You roll your eyes out but do as you’re told and begin taking your shirt off which you then throw his way. 

Mat whistles, a smirk sprouting off his lips, evidently in awe of how good you looked half-naked, “Wow.”

You cock up a smirk and shrug to play it off, “Well, you’re not so bad yourself.” you turn the compliment back which Mat only reciprocated with a taunting wink, brushing his shoulder briefly like an idiot.

“So. How do you want to play this?” you inquire.

“Naked, I hope.” he laughs, putting his sweats off revealing nothing but his boxers on. When he sees you roll your eyes, yet again, almost wondering if you’re going to bawl it out at any moment, Mat clears his throat and decides to dial down his terrible jokes. 

“Fine. Let’s just say we’re doing ‘Friends with Benefits’ or, you know, what was that movie again?” he thinks for a second, snapping his fingers as he gathers a few romantic comedies he’s seen in the past. “No Strings Attached! The one with Natalie Portman! Yeah, that’s the one.” he marvels.

You look at him quite stunned that he’s familiar with these movies. “Wow. I thought you guys are just into full-on pornography and sports.” 

“Hey!” he retorts, defending himself at once, “I’m speaking your language, dumbass. And for the record, I don’t like porn.” with that, you let out a loud laugh accompanied by a scoff, obviously not buying any of his lies. To which Mat jumps to defend himself the moment he sees the mocking look in your eyes, “What?? Not all men likes pornography, y/n.”

With both hands on your hips, you arch your brow at him and reply with a revolting grin, “First rule, no lying. I wasn’t born last night, Barzal.”

“Fine. I don’t like it like it.” he points out just as he averts your gaze, “But I’m certainly not against it. Those girls need to make a living, y/n.” 

You meet his cocky remark with an exasperated sigh, “You’re such a pig.” 

Mat answers with a shrug, letting your judgmental glares slide, “Call me names, I don’t care. You’re the one sleeping with a pig.”

And as if it had been expected all along, it didn’t take long for the both of you to end up in bed, wearing nothing but your skin, breathing in each other’s breaths, gasping as you let yourselves let loose with the company of a friend.

Mathew marvels at the sight of your heaving chest whilst his head was wedged in between your thighs, going on endless circles as he nibbles on your clit, perhaps trying a little too hard to make you meet your high. 

What the fuck is he doing? is probably what every girl has asked herself when a man goes down on her thinking that he already got her all figured out. 

Mathew knew what he was doing to be fair. He was there. For the most part. His fingers were nothing but magic but his mouth was a different subject. It was almost as if he was overachieving something. Kind of like the way he does during plays that would eventually cause them the game. 

He’s in his head a little too much. That’s for sure. You didn’t want to ruin the moment so you decide to let it slide and put on your best suit. After all, it wasn’t the first time you had to fake your sexual orgasms. You weren’t entirely surprised though. Half of the men you’ve gone out with didn’t know shit about eating pussy. And Mat was pretty, at least he had that going on for him.

You bit your lower lip, trying to suppress the fact that you weren’t enjoying it. Mat was doing all sorts of things at once and it was all too much. Too much that you’d rather finish the job yourself than have someone licking your region like a fucking chew toy.

As much as you didn’t want to, you arch your back and let out a fake moan, curling your fingers on the sheets, the other tugging on Mat’s hair, staging the perfect scene Mat had wanted to see. He emerges from below and hovers on top of you with a proud grin on his face, oblivious of the dramatic pin you’ve successfully put into the night. 

“And that, my friend,” he smirks, “is how you do it.”

Oh, believe me, it is not. You try to smile, “Hm. It’s that easy, huh?” 

“Well, yeah. Think of it like a scrimmage.” he says as he starts to pepper kisses on your cheeks, his hands roaming around your body, compensating for what his mouth missed. “Or a shootout even.”

“I’m thinking no.” you deny, “Rule two, if talking hockey is your definition of dirty talk, you better zip it.” you stress out as you prop your leg around his waist in order for you to move on top of him. 

Mat chuckles, trying to mask how much he longed to feel your mouth envelop his member. There hasn’t been a day where the image of you sucking his length didn’t enter his mind. It didn’t matter where he was. Whether he was in the shower, on the road with the boys, leaving for practice, or just tying his skates. He wanted nothing more than to look down at you as your little tears revolt to escape your doe eyes whilst you take him whole. Indeed, it was a sight for Mathew. And god knows how much he’s willing to give just to see it again. 

You spit just as you kiss the tip of his shaft, stroking his length in a circular motion to spread your saliva on his cock before you proceed on pressing gentle kisses on his head; edging him for not letting you cum— unconsciously wanting him to know how to give a goddamn head the right way. 

You patiently went your way as you began taking him in your mouth, inching down his thickness without breaking off of his dark and lustful gaze. Mat rests his head on the headboard, his breathing growing heavy and hoarse whilst he watches his dick be consumed by your hollowing cheeks, sucking the life out of him. 

“Fuck. You’re so good.” he groans, pulling your hair with his free hand before guiding you further down his dick. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Flattered by his praises which you find undeniably hot, you pop him out of your mouth, letting all your spit drip onto it just before gathering it back once you start licking him underneath, sucking on his balls as your tongue goes on little circles, playing with it for a while before letting it go with a loud pop. 

You watch Mat lose his mind with every movement you make but you know full well not to let him come in your mouth. It’s bad enough you didn’t get to come the first time he tried tonight. You won’t have yourself seeing the light of day high and dry while Mat gets to doze off the second you leave for his door. 

You climb on top of him. Mat was rather quick to let his hands find its way to your hips, your pussy sitting on his flat stomach just enough to let him know how wet you still are for him in spite of not getting the fun you’ve wanted for your own. 

“Where’s the rubber?” you ask him. Mat props himself quickly and carefully shifts towards his bedside table. You feel him on your back, poking on your skin whilst he pulls out one of the drawers. He fishes a wrapped condom straight from the box which he then swiftly opens with his teeth, motioning for you to get off of him first so he could get settled. 

“Ready?” you ask him, “Ready.” 

Mat rolls over and secures you in between his hands resting on both sides of your head. You feel his head poking against your abdomen as he finally takes his shaft to rub it in between you far too moistened slit just before he takes the plunge and dive deep.

“So,” you struggle to find the words as Mat finally starts making up for his loss a while ago. Your fingers envelop his nape, digging on his skin as you let himself adjust inside you. Stretching you whole with barely half his dick pushing through you.  Thank god this was one of the many things Mat definitely did not suck at. 

“Wanna walk me through this whole set up?” 

Mathew groans, his chest hard against yours as he pumps inside you at a steady pace; one that was pleasurably slow. One that had you closing your eyes whilst you let your head sink into his pillows. 

Despite working his way on tending to too many things at once, with his thumb brushing on one of your nipples, his lips attached to your earlobes, and his free hand secured on your hips, Mat whispers in your ear. “It’s like what we’ve agreed on that night.” he breathes heavily, his mind trailing off to that night momentarily before he speaks again, “We’re friends.”

“And?” you whine as you feel his wet lips brush briefly on your sensitive skin just enough to send chills up your spine, making you crave more of his touch; a grave wanting kindling inside your gut like fire.

“Friends…” he repeats in between kisses, “who likes to do this.” his lips travel from the corner of your lips and onto your jaw line. He then lets himself pull away just so he could look you in the eye, all whilst maintaining both your bodies moving in sync as you follow his lead. 

“You do know that things like this almost never work, right?” you honestly say, telling him the very same thing you’ve told him when you first crossed the line and threw everything you’ve progressively built with him throughout the years of being Anthony’s best friends. 

“Almost is good enough for me.” he counters with a husky voice, feeling constrained by how tight your pussy was around him. It had been a while and Mat was going insane just by thinking about how your cunt was made exactly for him. It was absurd for him to think such a thing but he would not deny the sensation coursing through his veins as if sex had become something entirely new to him. That you have miraculously been able to paint something far better than what he’s already gotten used to for who knows how long; luring him into the worst kind of addiction he could get himself into.  And although Mathew wanted to hate himself that it had to happen with you, he knew he couldn’t. 

“Let’s not have secrets,” he suggests. You raise both your brows, quite intrigued that he requested such a thing. “We’re not that close to have secrets, Barzal.” you remind him. 

“Exactly!” he cheers, voice briefly rising as you let out a moan escape when he pushes himself deeper through your heated walls. Mat hurriedly locks your mouth with his, swallowing all your moans before continuing with his case. 

“That’s the point. We’re not that close so we shouldn’t be keeping anything from each other. You tell me everything. Good or bad, and I’ll do the same.” 

You shoot him a questioning look, pushing him briefly so you could position yourself on top of him. Your action was very much well-received on Mathew’s end and it’s amazing how he’s able to lift you close to his torso before the two of you roll over the switch-game without letting his dick slip out of you. 

“Are you saying we’re going to be in a relationship? You’re way over your head, mister.” you laugh because it was exactly what it sounded. At least for you.

Mat rolls his eyes as he takes a pillow to support his back. His hands then roamed from your thighs before settling to cage your hips to lock it with his, “First of all, bold of you to assume that’s ever gonna happen.” 

You scoff.

“Second, it’s more of a mutual agreement and definitely less than a relationship.” he points out to reiterate that having said ‘relationship’ with you was the last thing he wanted. 

Your hands take rest atop his chest as you start working on rocking your hips at a gentle pace; the kind that had Mathew at a loss for words for a moment, his body taking over his mind as your physique towers all over him. Mathew meets you halfway while you do most of the work. He angles himself forward so as to reach for your tits, his mouth latching on one of your buds, thirsty like a newborn child. Your fingers find their way to his tousled hair, its disheveled state unbelievably making him much more difficult to resist. 

The two of you worked each of your own highs whilst you rock each other’s bodies. Exchanging moans and groans thrown carelessly throughout the room. You were all over Mathew as much as he was with you. His strong and capable hands that moved so well on your body, made you crave for more. Mathew took control of the pace now, his arms embracing your waist closer to his body that no amount of spatial space could ever be perceived by either of you.

“Come for me.” Mat orders, voice almost inaudible as he was chasing his own, the moment he feels you throb rapidly around him, fluttering like butterflies while he watches you shut your eyes. Just like that, you finally reach the ecstasy you’ve been longing for the whole night; one that was specifically shut down by Mathew’s stale mouth.

You let Mat take over. He orders you to turn your back against him before he pulls you rapidly close to his front, your ass perked up close to his skin. His mouth leaves fashioned bites on your neck whilst he held you firmly by your forearm. Mathew begins pounding on you hard from behind, his sharp and abrupt movements painting bruises you know will show up the next morning. 

You were all over the place and you didn’t care. It was messy, it was loud. The sound Mathew’s lips leave on your skin, his balls banging against your pussy, your moans— his groans. Everything was off the record book but neither of you wanted to stop. 

With one final thrust, you feel his body grow all the more rigid behind you. Mathew’s hand was wrapped firmly around your neck whilst he caught his breath. 

“You good back there, bud?” you ask, chuckling. 

“Oh, shut up.” he says, finally letting you go. 

The two of you gather yourselves. Mat discards the wrapper and offers to clean up after the mess he’d made but you profusely decline. 

“I’m not your girlfriend. You don’t have to take care of me.” you tell him with a strong suit as you begin picking up your clothes. 

“I know–” he cuts himself off when he sees you getting into your pants, “Where are you going?” he questions. 

“Rule four. No staying the night.” you point out, grabbing your sweatshirt from the floor. “You come to my room, I come to yours, but that’s that. No more, no less.” you add. 

Mathew looks stunned. Obviously on board with how well you were taking things so easily. 

“Alright then, buddy.” he strides his way towards his bed still naked. 

“We don’t speak about any of this in the morning.” you warn him for you know how the three of you tend to leave the house almost at the same exact time as each other. Meaning that this new setup of yours is bound to be much difficult if you let anything slip off your hold. 

Mathew runs his fingers on his lips as if to zip it before he jumps on the bed, already reaching for his phone that was on his bedside table so he could check the gram.

You were just on your way out of his door when he called you one last time, a teasing smile creeping on his lips, “What’s rule five?”

“No funny business.” you say at once. You look at him one last time with your own teasing smile to mock him from across the room, “No strings attached.” you say, repeating how he used the movie as a reference from a while back before finally disappearing into the hall. 

𖥸

Who would have known agreeing to such a set up would mean getting laid almost every chance you get?

It had been a few weeks since you and Mat committed to your foolish escapades after sorting out your mutual agreement. Said escapades involve a handful of times of you driving over to the Coli to pick him up right after his morning skate and get off the back of your car. It wasn’t that big of a deal being that Mathew usually rides with Anthony for work. Of course, there were also times where you would call him into your office just to grab a quick lunch. On those times you always make sure to leave out at least half an hour or so before going home to avoid unnecessary suspicions from Tito and you and Mathew have been mindful so as not to let him notice anything. 

Mat had mentioned how he was already looking for a place nearer to yours and Tito’s but farther than his previous complex. The place was half an hour less than the travelling time Tito had to drive to from when they used to ride together going home. And now that you were officially friends and more than just acquaintances, Mat has asked you to come and see the place with him. 

You took a lift on your way to Mat’s and let’s just say, that for a man with a whopping 21M at his disposal, the building was grand but it wasn’t as boujee as you’ve expected. It might’ve been your lack of a better judgement but Mathew just didn’t seem to be the kind of guy who would be smart when it comes to his finances. You’ve always thought that he was the kind to splurge on things whenever he gets the chance. Although much to your surprise, just like everyone else, he was a simple man. 

You knock on the door a few times before you hear the familiar footsteps nearing the front door. 

“Hey,”  a signature grin welcomes you. He opens the door wider and invites you in. “Took you long enough.”

“Well, I had better things to do, Barzal.” you retort as you start to scan the vicinity. 

The flat had floor to ceiling windows so the surroundings were well lit. You were making your way further when you noticed a few sealed boxes laying around what you assumed to be where the living space was going to be. 

“I thought you were just looking?” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion whilst you look back at him, pointing on the storages with your thumb. 

As expected, the entire apartment was painted in white and beige tones. Pretty much like every Islander’s home you’ve been to. It was quite spacious just like his former home. That being said, spacious doesn’t necessarily mean ‘good’ sometimes. For one thing, it didn’t feel home to you. It felt like a cage with huge-ass windows overlooking a scenery you can’t even lay your hand on. You keep your thoughts to yourself, not wanting to ruin Mat’s excitement for the place. Sure enough, it’ll all come together once he gets settled. 

Mat walks towards you, taking a deep breath. “I was. But the offer was really good so I figured signing the lease right away would be a smart move.” he explains. When he sees your gaze trail off onto the boxes again, Mat feels the need to reassure you that he wasn’t going to move out of your apartment just yet. 

“I won’t be moving in for another month or two, just to be clear. Those are just some stuff I didn’t want hogging all the space at home.” he says candidly pertaining to your apartment as his home, not even realizing the weight he had tied to his words. 

You were quick to dismiss your own unsolicited thoughts and carried on with the semi-tour Mat was starting to indulge you with. “Are you sure you’re gonna live here alone? Feels like a whole penthouse up here.” you honestly say, half-laughing as you make way towards the hallway. 

“Yeah. I mean, it would be great for when the team comes over.” he says as he follows your tracks. “The penthouse is actually two floors above mine though.”

You roll your eyes at his subtle remark, “Why’d you made me come here anyway?”

And as if Mat had remembered the task he originally had in mind, he walks right past you to lead the way. “I want your opinion on something.” 

“Really? What is it?” you inquire, following after his footsteps. Mat stops and opens a door leading to what you assume is the master bedroom. Situated at the center of the fairly spacious room is a california king sized bed, waiting patiently to be slept on. 

Mat looks back at you and says, “D’you think it’s any good?” 

He lets you roam around the place, setting yourself down on the foot of the bed. “Bed’s nice actually.” you tell him and you stand at once to look more of his semi-furnished room. 

“How nice is it exactly? Like, nice to sleep on or nice to not get any at all?” you turn around, rolling your eyes at his sleazy innuendos. “You’re such a tool. You really made me come all the way here to get me tied down this bed?” 

Mat only answers with a shrug. An adorable one to be exact. “What? That’s what friends are for, y/n. Now, come on. Test the bed with me.” he says, taking your hand at once before you could even answer. He lets himself fall onto the bed as he caught your weight in his arms, your bodies dangerously close to each other, feeling your own body temperatures. 

His hands roam around your clothed physique just as he starts to cage you in a well heated kiss. Your lips dance with his, letting his tongue slip whenever he gets the chance, nibbling on your tongue as the two of you enjoy exchanging your own take on what house warming gifts are supposed to look like. 

Mat’s hands were already gripping on the curve of your ass when the sound of your and Mathew’s kisses were stopped by a sudden knock on the door. Your hand immediately trailed down from Mat’s nape to his chest, “Are you expecting someone?”, he thinks for a second, both of his hands still secured on your bottoms.

“Oh!” he gasps upon remembering who could it possibly be, “It’s probably my realtor. He’s picking some stuff up, I’ll go get it.” he says, propping himself up as a cue for you to get off of him. 

“Would you mind getting the door? I’ll be quick, I promise.” he adds, looking back at you as he steps out of the room, heading for the other side of the hallway. He speaks in an apologetic tone, feeling sorry for having to cut off the purpose of your visit. So, in an effort to let him know he had nothing to worry about, you shake your head as you finish straightening the wrinkles off your work clothes. 

“No, it’s all right, I got it.” you give him a reassuring smile.

You gladly make your way towards the door, not even bothering to look through the hole. You hand enveloped the cold metal, swinging the door wide open, leaving yourself not a chance at escape as soon as your eyes landed on those all too familiar big blue ones you’ve known all your life.

“Y/N?” a puzzled expression was all you could make out of Tito’s face. You tried stumbling for a few words in the hopes of calming your already racing heart impending to escape your chest at any moment. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks in utmost bewilderment. You were still in shock being that you’ve never lied to Anthony before since he’s the only one you’ve told everything to most of the time. Having him here, clearly unexpected, has evidently thrown you off guard.

You maintain your gaze at him and throw the same question back, “What are you doing here?”

“Mat and I are going out with Mikey and Noah for drinks.” he answers quickly so he could throw the ball your way, “You didn’t answer me. I didn’t know you knew about this place already?” he furrows his brows, looking over your shoulder to get a glimpse of his best mate. 

“Uhm. Mat called me to discuss a few things. Showed me some stuff too.” you nervously say, tip toeing on the fact that what you just told him wasn’t entirely a lie. You open the door all the way and finally let him in. Your knuckles were wrapped hard around the cold metal knob, wishing that Mat would come out to the room to save your ass. 

You must have gotten on a wrong foot and told Tito a lie that’s bound to invite more suspecting queries.

“Really? What stuff?” 

His bed, where he was just about to defile me on. 

Thankfully, Mat walks out the open room holding an envelope in his hand, immediately halting his tracks the moment he sees Anthony looking straight at him. 

“Beau! What–” he tries to remain composed, but you know Tito would definitely pick up on something just by how pale Mat’s face was. Dead and cold like someone who had seen a ghost for the first time. 

“What— am I doing here?” Anthony finishes Mat’s question just as he turns his gaze back at you. You try to avert his gaze but you figured it’s best not to. You need to go before him strong and level headed. The last thing you and Mathew want is to get caught in the act by no other than the last person you want to know about it. 

“What?” He laughs, brushing Tito’s biting tone off. “I know why you’re here, silly.” he tries to search in his head momentarily, but when he takes long enough, Tito answers it for him. “Drinks, man. You texted me for drinks.”

“Oh– yeah, no. I knew that.” he breathes out an uneasy laugh. 

“Why is Y/N here? I didn’t know you guys hung out? The last time I checked you can’t even last in the same room without slashing each other’s throats.” he smirks.

Surprisingly, Mat was fast enough to come up with quite a clever way to sway Anthony from his inkling suspicions. One that made sense, but not necessarily helpful in your end. “Psh. That?” Mat throws a hand towards your way, dismissing your presence in his unfurnished apartment, “She told me she needs money so I hired her to move my boxes for me. She even insisted on listing all the stuff I’ll eventually get rid of online.” 

Anthony looks back at you, surprised that you didn’t go and asked for his help instead. “How much do you pay her?” he asks Mat again. 

“Uh, five… ten bucks?” Mat scratches the back of his head and your face immediately falls to your palm. 

“Ten?” he questions, glancing at you. “Don’t you have your own office and a secretary? What do you need the ten bucks for?” Tito’s tone was now getting more curious and Mat, just like he always was, was dumb enough to forget you were earning more than just ten bucks for a living. 

“Did I say ten? I meant fifty— per hour.” Mathew takes it back instantly, following it with a lie that involves you asking him for a job because your publisher ordered you to for a book she wants you to sign for. Not that any of it made sense but at least Anthony seemed to have bought it. When you agree, Mat immediately takes Anthony in his arms as he guides him out to the door, snatching his coat resting atop his kitchen island. 

Mat looks over to you once more, both of their bodies already at the other side of the door, “You did great today, y/n. I’ll write you a check in the morning!” he says pushing Tito, who was still asking questions, farther from the door. 

Before Mathew disappears, he looks at you with his big doe eyes already thanking you for going along such a stupid make-up excuse. You roll your eyes as you watch him mouth a quiet ‘Sorry’, flashing his ever so gorgeous smile before him and Tito finally went on their way.  

𖥸

You’ve gotten used to how lazy Mat and Tito are during their off days. They would rather stay at home and play endless video games with each other than spending it with something less dumb than their stupid Xbox. Luckily, today wasn’t like those days because you happened to have your free day as well. You all agreed to spend the evening binging the entire Fast and Furious franchise. 

The three of you were cramped on the cloud couch. To put it in simply, you were sandwiched between two huge hockey players. Your back was leaning on Tito’s strong shoulders as it was laying just above your head. The huge bowl of half-eaten popcorn safely sits in between your middle, hugged by your stomach and your curled up legs, your sock-covered feet brushing against Mat’s thighs innocently. Almost as innocent as how you ignore Mathew’s hands creeping underneath the thick wool covering your body. 

Alarmed at how dangerously close Mat’s creeping palm was to your inner thigh, you shot him a warning look which was, as expected, answered by a defensive, and seemingly harmless “What?” look on his face. You roll your eyes, cautious as to not make any sharp movements for the benefit of Tito. You shift your position, angling your body away from Mathew and towards the direction of the screen instead. You let your body sink in your best friend’s shoulder, clueless that your movement had just given Mat the exact opening he was hoping for. 

With wide eyes, you give Mat’s thigh a firm nudge as carefully as you can, “Are you being serious right now?” you mouthed. Mat stifles a smirk and moves his hand away, keeping it to himself. You try turning your attention back to the television but somehow, Mathew’s actions left your mind wondering what he was about to do next. 

Gently, you stir back to your original position, propping yourself from leaning against Tito. 

“Hey, could you please fill this up for me?” you ask him nicely. Thankfully, Anthony reaches out for the bowl without letting his eyes break off the screen. “Thanks, Beau.” you add the moment he starts walking towards the kitchen. 

“Why’d you stop?” you cautiously whisper, asking Mathew who was surprised by your sudden inquiry.

“I thought you didn’t want me to.” he answers on the same level of your tone, putting his hand back on your shin. The warmth of his palm sends a familiar sensation down your region.

Looking back at the archway leading to the kitchen, you quietly tell him, “I asked if you’re being serious. I never said no.” 

Your candidness was met by Mathew’s widening smile, incapable of stopping himself from biting his lower lip, finding your bluntness quite adorable. “Be quiet.” he mutters as he clears his throat, eyeing Tito who was just returning from the kitchen holding a bowl full of popcorn fresh from the microwave. 

“Thank you.” you say the moment Anthony hands you the bowl. You scootch over, making you a lot closer to Mat. Tito places his arm back over the couch, allowing extra space for you. Once you got yourself in a position comfortable enough to last for the remaining half of the movie, your mind flies away, briefly forgetting the exchange you and Mathew just had. 

It was not even a full minute when you feel Mat’s very much capable hand start creeping underneath the thick cloth again. You swallow a giant lump in your throat, your senses already heightened just by the mere contact of his rough and calloused hand on your skin. 

You were wearing a pair of sweat shorts, the kind that were loose enough to let Mat maneuver his way deeper down your thighs so effortlessly. You steal quick glances towards his way but to no avail, Mat’s eyes were nowhere else other than the screen. His fingers, however, told quite a different story. 

You did the exact thing as him and put your sole focus on the movie. The sound of Anthony’s breathing was a good reminder to not let anything slip off of you unconsciously, especially now that Mat’s long fingers were inching its way to the thin fabric covered by your night wear. 

Mat begins to brush his middle finger over your delicates. You bury a part of your face underneath the thick cloth whilst your eyes are still pinned on the screen. The scene where Dom goes rogue plays and the light of the television flashes before your eyes. 

You tried to listen to Tito when he tells you about that time you went to the movies to see the film, trying to space out from Mat’s finger drawing idle circles on the thin fabric of your underwear, easing you just right, evidently taking his time fondling in between your clothed lips.

When he feels your moistness on his skin, Mat sophisticatedly slides a finger in your underwear just so he could feel the wetness of your folds. 

You on the one hand, keep your face hidden under the only light flashing from the screen. You manage to choke down your whimpers and instead lean your force towards the bowl you’re holding. However, you fail to stifle a gasp when Mat slides a finger inside you, making you stir just enough to stop your sudden movement from being unnoticed by Beauvillier. 

“You okay?” he asks, a concerned tone embracing his voice. You meekly nod, saying that you were just too caught up watching the film. He then takes his attention back, pretty much like the grinning Mathew sitting on the other end. 

You shoot a knowing look when you meet Mat’s irises. He casually plays it off just as he remains busy on his own, his fingers curling inside you with ease, pumping in and out at a slow pace, not wanting to let any of his movements show on the surface of your blanket. As Mat continues pleasuring you, you gather all your strength to stay still and calm your breathing. To no prevail however, knowing how good of a fucker Mat was, you knew you won’t be able to hold it in longer than you’re supposed to. 

Your heart almost beats right out your chest when Anthony’s phone starts to ring. You prop yourself up, causing Mat’s finger to do just the same inside you. You shut your eyes at the feeling and chose to clear your throat. 

Anthony takes his phone and looks at the two of you, “I need to take this. Just watch the movie without me.” he says, already standing to head for the balcony at the other side of the room. You sigh in relief, letting yourself fall back on where Tito used to sit, allowing more space for Mat’s miraculous fingers. 

He adjusts his seat, cautiously looking back after Tito’s track just to make sure he was no longer near the two of you. He looks at you, attention faltering from the screen as he slides another finger inside you. 

“Don’t make a sound. Stay still.” he orders, pumping his way in just as he glides his thumb to massage your clit. Your hand takes rest on your forehead, your eyes closed at every pleasure thrown your way, almost forgetting that you were holding a bowl full of finger food on your stomach. Mat must’ve caught on and ensured no unnecessary noises would make Anthony come back just yet when he takes the bowl off your middle to set it down the coffee table. 

“Fucking hell, Mat.” you can’t help but moan, arching your back once you feel your arousal come close. 

“Do it, y/n. Come on my fingers.” he growls in a low register, moving his way into hitting the spot at just the right speed, not wanting to prolong your misery any longer. 

You reach for his hands, your grip on him tighter than ever. Mat feels you come around his finger, eyes pinned on your spent up state harder than it was when the two of you were still watching the movie. When he feels your pulsating core starts to die down, he slips his fingers out your slit, eventually taking it in his mouth to suck your far too addicting juices.

You fix yourself up, eyeing Tito who had just ended his call. Mat looks at you, quite proud of himself.

“At least your fingers make up for what that pretty mouth can’t.” you say with a taunting smirk before standing up to get yourself a glass of water just as Beau finally comes back from the balcony, leaving Mathew with his mouth slightly agape and without a doubt dumbfounded.

𖥸

It was an hour before midnight but the house was already asleep. The boys had to call the night early because of the morning practice they have first thing tomorrow. But you still had some energy left so you figured drawing yourself a calming bath would help soothe your mind and maybe even up the chances of having yourself a well-deserved good night’s sleep. 

Now that you’re feeling better and getting ready for bed, your bathrobe hugs your body whilst you finish off your night routine so you could finally dip into the comfort of your sheets, the cream white duvet calling onto you as you picture yourself dozing off for the night. 

The strides you were just making out of your bathroom were put into a stop by how your door sprung open wildly, revealing one troubled Mathew Barzal entering your room almost a little too carelessly. 

“What the hell did you mean my mouth can’t?!” he questions at once, hissing. When he realizes the sudden rise in his voice, (which has also startled you in the process), Mathew immediately looks back just to make sure that Anthony was in his room, or far enough to hear. He shuts the door behind him before he finally turns his attention back to you. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” you ask him, putting both your hands on your hips, your body covered by nothing else but a bathrobe. 

“The thing you said back in the living room, my mouth can’t what? What the hell did that suppose to mean??” Mat roars like a child’s impending tantrum was about to come. You avert his gaze for a moment, scratching your temple. You couldn’t believe something you’ve said stuck to him. Not that he’d ever do anything about it. Something you most absolutely doubt. 

“If you had to come here to ask me that, I’m pretty sure you already got what I meant.” you say, walking towards your bed as you get the bottle of your vanilla scented lotion from your bedside table. 

“But all those times it looked like you were having a good time?” he speaks, voice in a lower register as if he was talking to himself all along. 

“I was faking it Mat.” you finish off applying lotion on your legs, spreading the remaining on your hands. You met Mat’s gaze and saw that you might’ve tipped him off a little for there was a faint hurt in his eyes. 

“You were faking it?” he repeats in a quiet voice.

“You’re still good in bed, buddy.” you assure him with a smile yet to no prevail, Mat didn’t seem to buy any of what you said thinking that it was just a decent effort to save his ego already plummeting to the pit of his own embarrassment. 

“How many times have you been faking it?” he asks the moment he gathers his thoughts, his mind circling on the fact that all throughout this time he wasn’t able to get you off.

“You’ve only had the chance to do it twice. So… just those two.” you answer honestly. 

Mathew, who was utterly clueless to what was going on didn’t know how to react to such bluntness. He tried to mutter a few words but he was speechless. All this time, he thought he was good at something he obviously wasn’t. And being told something as morally immobilizing as that shocks him to his very core. The horror of all the girls he’s slept with, walking out of his apartment unsatisfied befalls on him. 

“You should’ve told me, otherwise this whole setup won’t make any sense, y/n. I thought you said we shouldn’t lie?” he questions, evidently disappointed in himself. 

“Look,” you stop, tapping on the side of the bed to have a proper conversation. When Mat finally sits beside you, you continue, “I didn’t think it mattered. And no offense but we both know you’re such a sore loser. I didn’t know how you would react. And I definitely didn’t want to deal with any of the messy stuff just to feed your ego.”

“For your information, I’m a thick faced motherfucker, you should’ve known that by now. This thing between us is going to be complicated if you’ll tiptoe your way around it just to spare my feelings.” he says with certainty, a definitive tone accentuated by how intense he was now looking at your face, still glowing from your night care routine. 

“Is there something I don’t do?” he adds, “Or is it something that I should stop doing?”

“Fine. If you really wanna talk about this I’ll tell you.” you angle yourself facing him and Mat does the same, “You’re not entirely bad. You do know your way around. It’s just that— you’re trying a little too hard and it gets really overwhelming at times. And mind you, it isn’t even the good kind,”

“Show me.” Mat cuts you before you could grab the chance to continue, stopping you mid sentence, causing you to stumble on a few words. “What?” 

“I won’t leave this room knowing I can’t get you off.” he says, and just like that, Mathew meets your lips with an all too hungry mouth eager to make you come for him even if it takes having to have endless runs at it. 

Your body achingly responds to every bit of Mathew’s kisses whilst you let him run the course. His touches are tantalizing, urging you to come near him. He takes you in his arms, one fondling on your robe to pull it free from your body, the other tugging lightly on your hair just as he begins to move his weight on top of you.

“Tell me what you want.” Mat breathes the moment he breaks away, his mouth now travelling down the skin where your shoulder meets your neck, leaving faint bites, nibbling on it just before he makes his way down to fondle on your breasts. 

You answer him with a muffled moan when he takes your lips yet again. Mat’s irises unwaveringly gazes on your buck nakedness, your scent just enough to take over his senses. You feel the roughness of his hands graze all over your skin. Pinching on one of your buds just before it travels down your thighs, staying out of the place where he knew you needed him most. You feel him in every inch of your skin but there.

But just as you want him more, Mat purposely leaves it out of his hold. You begin to realize how much you must’ve underestimated what this forward could do. His hands were everything and you couldn’t even put into words how much you need him down there. 

“Mat…” you call out his name, groaning. His featherlight touches flowed smoothly on your inner thigh, grazing just your lips but even that was more than enough to tell him how wet you already were for him. 

He begins to leave wet kisses in between your breasts down to your stomach. Kisses that eventually made their way to your thighs as he inched his way to your core, the sloppy noise he makes sounds so beautiful in your ears. You look down on Mat trying to compose yourself under all the breathing he’s subtly passing your middle. 

“What do you want?” Mat asks again, this time his doe eyes meeting yours, clouded with lust and desire. You buck your hips upward in an effort to meet his mouth but Mat was rather quick to put you back in your place when he cages your hips with his capable arm. 

“Use your words, y/n.” he orders, one that has effortlessly made you oblige. You wanted to feel him more than anything else and if that meant submitting to Mat this time, you know full well you’d gladly break before him. 

“I want you to get me off.” you surrender, signaling him to take the plunge. Once he did, you let out a whimper at his touch, almost forgetting that Mathew was probably doing this so he could eat out his future girl right.

“Don’t rush.” you breathed as you guided him, “Stay slow and steady.” 

Mathew’s eyes never left yours even when you had to look away when you let your head fall back on your sheets with how well he was moving with everything you say. 

“Mathew…” you moan, reaching for his hair to take him closer to your throbbing core, “Go on circles, please.” 

Mat was obedient and followed your every command. Unlike the times he’s spent trying to pleasure you with his mouth, tonight was a time where he actually listened and gave you exactly what you wanted, exactly how you want it.

Mat didn’t have to do anything else for when he started to slip into your cunt and fuck you with his tongue, you going insane was more than enough to let him know that he was doing it right. He watched you fall before him, your chest heaving, your breathing rapid as if there wasn’t enough air for you to breathe. He entwines both his fingers atop your abdomen, the sound of you calling his name like a prayer doing all kinds of wonders on his end. 

You meet his eyes yet again just to see that it never left. Mat looked at you darker than ever before and for once, you feel a firm tug in your stomach you just weren’t ready to acknowledge and care for. As he takes time with his final strokes, knowing that you were close, Mat pulls away, thinking about the one thing he knows will redeem himself. 

“Turn around.” he orders with a grim voice. You were in dire need of an orgasm to even care about how he’s the one ordering you. You gladly oblige to his every whim and turned to your belly, your ass perked up so perfectly for him.

He lets your robe fall just above your back, revealing more of your skin for him to enjoy. He takes no second to waste and kneels before your already swollen pussy. Needy and very much heated for him.

Mat’s hands spread your cheeks before he takes you in his mouth once again, letting himself drown in your juices glinting under his all too heavy gaze. 

“Oh, god.” you whine, feeling Mat’s grin behind you as you dig into your sheets while your legs begin to shake at your incoming orgasm. “Mat, please.” you call out in a whimper, pushing your ass back further his face. 

Mat gladly takes the challenge but maintains at the pace you wanted. As he feels your pussy flutter in his mouth, he deepens it into yours to finally pour you with nothing else but ecstasy and ecstasy alone.

His face was filled with nothing but your juices once he pulled away, leaving you breathless and still caught up on meeting your high. He stands, a hand gripping on one of your cheeks whilst he admires the art that is: your all too spent pussy.

“Next time you lie, you won’t get to fake it at all.” he warns with a firm yet definitive voice masked as a taunting remark. 

Mat looks at your still throbbing pussy, eyes lustful and dark. As much as he craved for the inkling fire resting in his loins, it was already past midnight and he had self-discipline stronger than anyone else’s. He couldn’t afford any more scolding from Anders the next morning. 

So, even when he wanted nothing but to fuck you right then and there, he lets his hand send a message he certainly wants you to remember instead. One that has left a faint yet stinging mark on your skin. Your legs were practically still wobbling when he finally leaves for the door, this time fueled with the purpose of being the one leaving you dumbfounded in your own post-orgasm shame.

Perhaps, even wanting and more.

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #mat barzal smut #nhl smut #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey smut #letters to barzy #barzzal imagines

[master-sass-blast]

Care and Trust: Chapter One.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Summary: "The shockwave hits second.

You’re strolling through Avatar Korra park, out on your lunch break. It’s a beautiful, late winter day; with the sun shining high up in the sky, it’s warm enough that you aren’t shivering like a frightened kitten as you amble along the plaza.

Several people gasp, and you look up in time to see a fireball pluming up over the docks.

And then the shockwave hits.

It hits your chest like an armadillo tiger; the explosion roars through the air, making your ears hurt. You go down, grunting when you hit the snow-covered knoll behind you.

You stand with a groan, brush yourself off, then start booking it to the nearest hospital.

Shit like this always demands all hands on deck."

AKA Plot Finally Happens.

Pairing(s): Lin Beifong x Reader.

Rating: T.

Word count: 2.1k.

The shockwave hits second.

You’re strolling through Avatar Korra park, out on your lunch break. It’s a beautiful, late winter day; with the sun shining high up in the sky, it’s warm enough that you aren’t shivering like a frightened kitten as you amble along the plaza.

(But, as they say, all good things must come to an end.)

Several people gasp, and you look up in time to see a fireball pluming up over the docks.

And then the shockwave hits.

It hits your chest like an armadillo tiger; the explosion roars through the air, making your ears hurt. You go down, grunting when you hit the snow-covered knoll behind you.

Cries pierce the air. Screams of panic, exclamations of disbelief, exhortations to call the police.

Yeah, you think as you eye the thick, black smoke that belches into the air, something tells me they didn’t miss that.

You stand with a groan, brush yourself off, then start booking it to the nearest hospital.

Shit like this always demands all hands on deck.

***

As predicted, the injury count is high.

You run the halls of Yue General, triaging the more serious patients until things slow enough that you can start checking the ones not actively dying. It’s a non-stop frenzy of gauze, saline, and bandage wraps until you can see the blue glow of your healing whenever you close your eyes.

By the end of it, your feet are practically dead and it’s nearly four in the morning.

You drag yourself onto one of the trams and let the teeth-shaking rattle keep you awake until you’re on your block. You count your steps until you make it to the front door, then let out a sigh of relief when you step into the building lobby.

“Elevator Out of Service. Please Use Stairs.”

You stare at the placard in front of the elevator bay in disbelief, then groan. Fuck my life.

***

The climb up to your floor is agony.

You’re huffing and puffing by the time you make it to your apartment door. You lean against it as you slot the key into the lock, then push inside.

Some distant, responsible part of you manages to turn the deadbolt before your brain shuts off entirely. You kick off your shoes, drop your purse on the ground, then shuffle over to the couch and flop down face first on it.

When you lift your head again, sunlight’s streaming through your living room window.

“Fuck.” You wince, then peel yourself gingerly off the couch. You cringe as your body protests, and rub your hand over the back of your aching neck. You glance at the clock, but the gurgle your stomach makes is more than enough to tell you that it’s past lunch time.

You sit up, then frown when you get a whiff of yourself. Antiseptic and B.O. Not a good combination on anyone.

You need a shower. And food. And a good round of stretching.

Nice, long, hot shower. You smile as you shuffle towards the bathroom. And then take out. Narook’s. With extra squid ink noodles. Your stomach rumbles again. And maybe Golden King’s… mmm, extra summer rolls… with sweet and sour dipping sauce. Yum.

***

You feel more human after showering. You change into sweats and a loose shirt, put in delivery orders at Narook’s and Golden King’s, then flip on your radio before dropping down onto your sofa.

It’s too early in the day for mystery shows, but the disc jockey’s still playing music requests. Smooth jazz --something with a rolling beat and brass--pipes out of the speakers, swirling around your apartment until the mental grime of the previous day starts to fade.

You sink back into your couch and hum along. You sigh and stretch, relish in the ache in your legs as tension leeches from your sore muscles.

The radio hums, then crackles. “We interrupt this broadcast for an announcement from the Republic City Police Department.”

You roll your eyes as an announcer rattles off a report about the explosion yesterday --site is secure, no risk of further fire or explosion, the city police are hard work, stay clear of the site, blah blah blah--then relax when your music starts playing again. Thanks for telling us what we already know. You close your eyes and let yourself drift. Why do they always shove that into every single press release? ‘We’re working hard to serve Republic City and ensure the safety of her citizens--’

Lin.

You gasp and bolt upright; she would’ve attended the scene. Hell, for all you know, she was one of the responding officers.

It’s probable, given her propensity for “hands on police work,” for not staying above the grime and grunge her officers have to work on.

Hell, it’s even likely. Given what you know about Lin, you’d be solid money that she’d rather work the explosion site than deal with the panicking politicians.

Is she okay? You chew on your lower lip as the thought circles your mind like water in the bathtub drain, swirling down and down into blackness.

You blink, and then your phone’s in your hand, and there’s hold music in your ear as the operator makes the connection. You gulp and palm your phone once the music stops and the ringing starts. Please don’t let this be a mistake, please don’t let this be a mistake, please don’t let this be a fucking mistake…

“Chief Beifong’s office. This is her assistant, Ryu, speaking. The Chief is not available at this time, but I can take your message and deliver it to her later.”

You blink at the sound of her assistant’s voice. “Uh… hi…” You swallow, then rattle off your name and callback number before Ryu can hang up on you. “I’m a, uh, friend of Lin’s. I was just calling because --y’know--the explosion--”

“I’m sorry, but the Chief cannot comment on an ongoing investigation--”

“I’m not calling about that,” you interject, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m her friend; I just want to be sure she’s okay.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and when Ryu speaks again, she almost sounds… pleased? “Chief Beifong’s not in right now --but I’ll have her call you back as soon as she’s available.”

“Is she hurt?” you blurt before she hangs up on you.

Another pause. “As far as I know, no.”

“Okay.” You nod, gulp, then nod again. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Have a nice day.”

You eke out something similar, then put your phone back on the hook when the line goes dead. Your heart thuds uncomfortably hard in your chest, and you have to blink a few times before your brain starts working again.

You head back to your couch and jazz --but long gone is your relaxed, exhaustion induced stupor. Anxiety claws at your chest, threatening to snap your ribs and leave you bleeding. You inhale deeply through your nose, then force yourself to let it out slowly so your body calms down. She’ll be fine. She’s got, what, thirty years on the force? This is old hat for her. She’ll keep herself safe.

Still, if you spend the next couple hours watching your phone, that’s no one’s business but yours.

***

Your phone rings around seven in the evening --right as you’re shovelling leftovers from lunch into your mouth.

Go figure.

You half-scramble, half-try-to-not-choke over to the phone; you pick up the phone, try to swallow, then tuck the food in your cheek like a hamster when it’s apparent you’ve got too much in your mouth to swallow. Mom always said I ate like a pack of polar bear dogs. “Heffo?”

There’s a dry huff of laughter on the other end of the line. “I take it I caught you at a good time.”

“Lin!” You cover your mouth with one hand (even though she can’t see you) and alternate between chewing and swallowing. “I --I was ea’in ‘inner.”

“Sounds like you decided to do it all at once.” She chuckles when you grumble, then moves on. “My secretary said you called?”

“Yeah, around lunch time,” you say as you finally get your mouth clear.

“Where I’m presuming you had your mouth full of that meal, too.”

“Fuck you.” You grin when she laughs, then lean against the wall and cradle the receiver against your shoulder. “I just… wanted to check on you. With the explosion and all.”

“You heard about that.”

“The whole city heard it, Lin.” You sigh. “I worked the triage team at Yue General until four in the morning.”

“Shit.” Lin groans, and you can hear the creak of her leather office chair as she sits. “I thought you only did massage therapy?”

“They call everyone who passed a healing course when stuff like this happens,” you explain. “Besides, I had to pass an intensive injury treatment course to get my rehabilitation certification. I’m licensed to assist surgery teams, if need arises.”

Lin hums. “That’s a nice feather in your cap.”

“It pays the bills.” You manage a smile when she lets out a huff of laughter, but the anxiety that’s been circling your brain descends to your stomach. You swallow, then ask, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” When you don’t respond right away, her voice softens. “I’m fine. A little banged up, but nothing that won’t heal. I wasn’t there when the explosion went off.”

“Okay,” you murmur. You let out a shaky breath, then mentally kick yourself to stop acting like a worried girlfriend, dammit. “Well, if something doesn’t heal, you know where to find me.”

Lin grunts, then chuckles when you laugh. “Get some rest, kid.”

“Already am. You should do the same.” You roll your eyes when she starts grumbling again --about overtime and press conferences and departmental cooperation with the city’s fire brigade--then say, “Call me when you want to keep me up all night again,” and hang up before she can react.

It’s easy to picture her reaction. Open-mouthed, wide-eyed, with that hint of a grin that she hides by smirking.

You bite your lower lip; something warm and smooth settles in your lower gut. You laugh quietly to yourself, then turn and head back for the sofa. Alright, leftovers. It’s just you and me.

***

You’re in the midst of changing the sheets on your massage table when there’s a knock on the door. “Come in.”

The latch clicks, the door swings open, and the receptionist for the Northern Moon Physical Therapy Facility pokes her head into your “office” (which is really just the room you work out of, but it’s yours, and that’s what counts). “A call came in for you.”

You straighten, frowning. “Me?”

She nods. “A request for on-site treatment.” She looks down at the slip of paper in her hand and recites the information from the call. “Republic City Police Department, at one this afternoon. Long session booking. A woman named Ryu called it in.”

Your heart sinks into your shoes. Fucking dammit. “And my other appointments…”

“We’re redistributing them to the other therapists. It was an urgent request.”

Shit.

You sigh, then nod and grab your carry bag off a nearby office chair. “Let me pack up, and I’ll catch one of the trams.”

“They’re sending a car for you.” The receptionist smiles politely, then steps back and starts making her way back down the hall. “It’ll be here in fifteen minutes!”

You run your tongue over your teeth and do what you can to tamp down the aggravation simmering in your stomach. Well, on the bright side, I don’t have to carry the table the entire way.

***

Ryu meets you in the parking garage attached to the police department. She’s sleek, dressed in an impeccably pressed navy blue suit, and there’s not a hair out of place on her head.

In your loose slacks, pale periwinkle blouse, and slapdash braid, you can’t help but feel a bit… frumpy.

She shakes your hand --she’s got a strong, professional handshake--then escorts you through the garage. “Thank you for coming.” She opens a heavy metal door stamped with the police department’s emblem for you. “I’ll take you up to Chief Beifong’s office.”

Your jaw flexes as you follow her down a hall with an immaculately polished slate tile floor. “How’s she been? What kind of pain has she been in?”

Ryu looks at you over her shoulder for a long moment. Her eyes narrow contemplatively, but she turns back around before you can make anything of her expression. “I’ve been asked to let Chief Beifong explain things to you directly.”

Yeah, that tracks. You shift the strap of your carry bag onto your shoulder, then watch the floor counter as the elevator slowly rattles upwards.

#sass writes #lin beifong x reader #this one got cut into multiple pieces due to length #also we have plot now! #five fics into the series dslfjdlfkjdslfkjdslfj #legend of korra #the hands that heal

[sunflowersteves]

hi could I request Wanda x fem reader smut? 💖 the reader and Agnes are flirty best friends and it irks Wanda. so one day Wanda catches the reader masturbating and uses the opportunity to possessively claim her

author’s note || ohhh i like this idea. I hope you enjoy <3 also this is before we know about agatha and no mind control

warnings || fluff, jealousy, not edited, smut!! [18+ only], afab!reader, voyeurism

“Are you okay, Wanda?” Vision turned to her with concerned eyes, a hand placing itself on her shoulder in comfort. Her eyes leave the scene in front of her, a very forced smile making its way up to her lips. 

“Everything’s fine.” He immediately gave her a knowing look, one that didn’t seem convincing of her statement. Everything wasn’t okay, and he could tell by her furrowed eyebrows and chewed-up lip. “Are you sure?”

Well, no. Everything wasn’t fine. Wanda likes you. She really really likes you, and Agatha has been flirting with you non-stop. Every time she’s close to confessing her feelings to you, her mouth becomes dry and opens and closes like a fish. She just couldn’t do it.

And Agatha had been driving her up the damn wall. She knew that Wanda wanted to profess to you, and yet here she was, frivolously touching your upper arm. She could even see you become flustered and shy at the attention, and it made her blood boil. 

She didn’t answer him before turning back towards where she was staring. “I’m sure, Vis.” He definitely wasn’t convinced, especially after the pure fire-burning rage he felt just standing next to her. 

The two of them watch as Agatha hugs you—making sure it was just a few seconds longer than needed—before you walked away back to your home. Vision just sighed next to her, nudging her shoulder a bit. “Talk to her. Now’s your chance.”

And so she did. She marched straight up to your door and knocked. But then she waited, the silence becoming piercing at each passing second you don’t open the door. She knocked again, her hands becoming more and more sweaty by the moment. Your car is literally in the driveway; she knew you were home. 

Her heart started to pound against her chest, her stomach plummeting to the ground. What if something had happened to you? Sure, this was a fairly new neighborhood, but Hydra will go anywhere if that meant they could hurt Wanda. 

Thinking of the worst, she used her powers to burst open the door. She called your name, but it seemed like you weren’t even around. She saw your keys on the table and an old glass of water sitting on the coffee table. She then walked through the kitchen to find a clean empty space. 

So where were you?

And then she heard it, her ears perking up at the sound. Her body started to gravitate towards it on her own, walking up the stairs. The sound was beautiful, perfectly crafted against the palettes of her ears. 

She saw you there lying on your bed and covered in sweat. You were naked, all except for the red panties that clung to your hips. Your fingers were circling your clit, relishing in the feeling of your fingers finally pleasuring you. 

You let out the cutest little sigh as your other hand explores the valleys of your skin, your chest down to your stomach. All she could do was stand there and watch through the small crack of your bedroom door. 

Her heart was banging against her ears, her body warm and hot like she could start a fire. Her eyes widened slightly at the moan that left your lips, a tingling sensation filling her whole. 

“Wanda...” You whimpered. And oh, how sweet it was. You whined as you entered a finger. The gushing sounds of your pussy being fucked was loud into the silent air. 

“Oh, Wanda.” Her breathing was starting to become heavy, the slick between her thighs flooding onto her panties. Without thinking, she reached a hand inside her jeans and started to rub her throbbing clit. 

She gasped at the sensation, her eyes still locked onto your body as you continuously pound your fingers inside of you. She whispered your name, like a secret that she couldn’t uncover. She applied more pressure onto her clit, grabbing some of the slick that flowed out of her. 

You screamed her name over and over, letting the pleasure take a hold of you. Your head was leaning all the way back; your mouth slung open as you just tip to the very edge. She just watches, letting you fall apart all over your fingers and onto those expensive silk sheets. 

Wanda just smiled. Yeah, she’d let you finish, for now. She’d let you cum on those pretty little fingers by yourself. But she couldn’t wait to see the expression on your face when you find out that she heard you—that she saw you.

~~

marvel: @harrysthiccthighss @rebekahdawkins @purselover2 @laic2299 @iwanttobekilledtwice @tinylumpiaa @met4no1a @writingletterstothefire @t3a-bag @stuckysavedmylive @gudenuph @beskar-tano @jenrebloggingfics @miraclesoflove @ohladymacbeth @xixxiixx

permanent: @captainchrisstan @angstysebfan @teenagereadersciencenerd @rebekahdawkins @hailmary-yramliah @buckybarnesplumwhore @stardust-galaxies @wiccanmetallicrose @keithseabrook27 @hereforthesunrise @lxdyred @ironbabey

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff #wandavision #wanda x reader #wandavison spoilers #Scarlet Witch #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x y/n #marvel #Marvel women #marvel wandavision #marvel fanfiction #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff imagine #request #Elizabeth Olsen

[wlntrsldler]

Hey! For the Taylor Swift / Harry Potter prompt thing could you please do Fred and I Think He Knows? Much thanks!!❤️❤️

PROMPT: based on i think he knows by taylor swift (an installment of my taylor swift x harry potter series. to read more about it, click here) Y/N drunkenly confesses her feelings. 

WC: 2.1K+

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

-

i think he knows (f.w one shot)

“Ron,” you hissed from across the table. The boy remained oblivious, munching down on the pile of breakfast he dumped on his plate. He seemed to inhale the food, nevermind with chewing and actually tasting it. He just swallowed it in large pieces to make room in his mouth for some more eggs and hashbrowns. You flicked a piece of balled up napkins towards him, “Ron!”

“Blimey, Y/N,” he finally looked away from his food and shot you an annoyed look. “What the hell is going on with you?” 

“I think he knows,” you whispered, chewing on your bottom lip, nervously. 

“Who? Fred?”

You rolled your eyes, looking over to where the older twin sat a few people away from the both of you, “Who else, you idiot? Yes Fred!” 

“I doubt it,” Ron shrugged, returning to his plate of food, like you were just a distraction to him, not much of a best friend. “He’s an oblivious git. He probably doesn’t know.”

“Probably?!” you half shrieked, half whispered. It was loud enough for the twins to hear, looking at you concernedly. You sent a shy wave their way and hid behind the comfort of your hands. “I want to jump off the Astronomy tower.” 

“Well, he’s gonna find out if you keep acting like this, Y/N,” he stated, obviously. Again, you flicked a balled up napkin his way, not really appreciating his tone with you. He flicked it back, “I’m just saying, stop acting suspicious and just act normal.”

Act normal, you thought, that’s easy enough, right? 

But what the hell does normal even mean?

-

You knew you probably shouldn’t have drank so much. Your tolerance has deteriorated tremendously after not drinking for a year but when Angelina kept offering you shots, you couldn’t refuse. Now, the common room seemed to spin around after each step you took, leading you back to where you started. Right beside the table of half eaten snacks and spiked drinks. 

The Gryffindor team won the Quidditch match today and after a long, hard, school week, the team decided it would be best to blow off some steam with a little party. Fred and George were across the room, surrounded by a group of adoring, young Gryffindors. They gushed around them, complimenting them on their amazing plays in today’s match. You knew they loved the attention with the way Fred couldn’t keep the twinkle in his eye subdued for too long and the way George nudged his brother’s side every time someone reenacted one of their moves. It wasn’t hard to believe that they were some of the most popular boys to ever strut on campus. 

You took baby sips from your cup, watching the older twin intently. He wore a cozy-looking jumper, like his twin, making you think about how nice it would be to sleep in it with his scent filling your senses. His hair was a bit longer than usual, the side of it tucked behind his ear. His laughter was the only thing you could hear despite the loud music that Hermione’s Muggle radio played beside your ear. You were so focused on Fred that you didn’t notice Ron staring at you, trying to hold in his laughter. 

“You’re so whipped.” 

Startled, you clutched your chest and turned to your best friend. You smacked his upper arm, irritated that he always seems to catch you when you’re staring at his brother so hopelessly in love. “Can you shut up?” 

Ron laughed, passing you his drink, “You need to get drunk.” 

“Am I not already?” 

“You’re in your ‘I’ll oggle at Fred’ phase drunk,” he explained, shoving his cup with mysterious liquor into your hand. “I need you at your ‘I have no filter so I say things that I’ll regret or will get me in trouble’ phase drunk. I need a good laugh.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but took the cup, nonetheless. “Aren’t you already having a field day with how pathetic I am pining after your brother?” 

“Sure,” he shrugged, filling the cup up for you again. “But I want you to insult Pansy like last time. That was good fun.” 

You took the drink in his hand, downing the entire liquid. You grimaced as it burned your throat, in a good way. You chuckled at the memory, sending your best friend a wink, “I’d fight Pansy sober.” 

Four more drinks later, you were at that phase. Ron retired a bit early, mumbling something about wanting to get to the dormitories before Harry could stumble in with Ginny and scar him for life. You ignored him, not really wanting to picture that scene in your head. Now, you were bouncing off the walls, spewing out your deepest secrets to anyone that dared to listen. 

You were having good fun until you tried to refill your cup and a hand grabbed yours, preventing you from doing so. You were about to protest when you looked up and saw a redhead. Usually you would be able to tell the twins apart because you know Fred and you know George, but whatever it was that Ron gave you, made your vision so blurry you couldn’t possibly tell them apart. Maybe you just drank too much tonight. 

“I think that’s enough,” he chuckled, pulling the cup away from you. “Want me to take you back to your dormitory?”

You pursed your lips, trying to figure out which twin it was that’s speaking to you. The harder you tried, the harder it seemed to be. They were both handsome, no doubt about it, but with Fred you usually felt your chest tighten and your mouth going dry. The problem is, you’ve drank so much that you emotionally felt numb and your mouth is already dry from the alcohol in your system. Finally, you decided to guess. It’s a 50/50 shot after all. 

“Sure, Georgie, I’d appreciate that,” you mumbled, walking alongside him towards the way to the girls’ dormitories. “Your arsehole of a brother left me by myself. Can you believe that?” 

Fred was almost offended that you couldn’t tell him and George apart, almost. But he took a look at your inebriated state and decided that he’ll let you slide this time. Plus, he heard a lot about your ‘truth serum’ phase drunk but he was yet to experience it, until today. He found it quite charming, but then again, he always found you charming. 

He’s had a crush on you for so long. One day you walked into the Burrow, and suddenly you were no longer his little brother’s best friend. You were Y/N. And he fell head over heels for you. Fred found you funny and gorgeous and sweet and so adorably cute, that sometimes George would have to hit him in the back of the head to get him to stop daydreaming over you. But alas, he thought you only saw him as your best friend’s brother. 

“I’ve got a lot of brothers, Y/N,” he chuckled beside you, arms at the ready in case you were about to fall over. “You’ve got to be more specific than that, love. You talking about Percy? Ron, maybe? Fred?” 

“Well, Percy is an arse but for a whole different reason,” you started, as if pondering the moments that you personally disliked his brother. This pulled out a snort from Fred because he agreed with you. Percy was an arse. You continued, “But no, I’m talking about Ronald, of course! He just leaves me there at a party that he dragged me into!” 

“Yeah, that’s a dick move, innit?” 

“I’d say so,” you hummed. Before you could stop yourself from talking, the alcohol took over your senses. “I’d never call Fred an arse, you see. I think he’s far too fit to be an arse.” 

As you entered your dormitory, Fred’s eyebrows shot up. Did you just call him fit? He led you to your bed, watching fondly as you plopped down on the cushion, “Is that so?” 

“Definitely,” you chuckled, burying your head into your pillow. “Don’t tell him this, Georgie, but I fancy him. I fancy him a lot.” 

“Do you now?” Fred’s cheeks reddened as he watched you nod and smile up at him, eyes droopy. 

“Yeah, I do,” you sat up, raising your pinky up in the air. “Pinky promise me that you won’t tell Freddie? Or-or use that twin telepathy thing that I think you guys have! Please, Georgie, you can’t tell him. I’ll be far too embarrassed if you do.” 

Unable to fight the smile on his face, he linked your pinkies together, “I promise, Y/N. But I don’t think you’d get embarrassed if he found out. Anyone would be lucky to have you have a crush on them.” 

“You’re sweet, Georgie,” you smiled, already half-asleep. “If only Fred thought the same as you.” 

Fred laughed as you dozed off, leaning against your bedpost. He draped a blanket over your small figure and placed a kiss on your temple before whispering, “He does. Goodnight, love.” 

-

“I’m never drinking again,” you groaned, rubbing your head with your hands. Hermione laughed beside you, ushering you to continue walking to get some breakfast to nurse your hangover. “I can’t believe I told George about my crush on Fred.” 

“Well, he’s bound to find out anyway,” she shrugged as you two sat in front of Ron and Harry. 

“Find out what?” Harry asked, not bothering to greet the two girls with a good morning. And to be honest, with the way you looked like you’d just been pulled out of another dimension, he assumed it has not been a good morning so far. 

Hermione giggled as she filled her plate, “Y/N told George about her crush on Fred last night.”

“Correction,” you interrupted, “Drunk Y/N did. Sober Y/N is regretting that decision.” 

“Wait you told George? When?” Ron asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Did you tell him before he came into my room to show me a prototype for their shop?” 

You stared at Ron like he was stupid, “What are you on? He walked me to my room last night.” 

“No, he was in my room last night.” 

“Well, he can’t be at two places at once, can he, Ronald?” you sighed a hint of attitude in your tone, shaking your head at your friend. The table froze, jaws hanging wide, before you caught on. Oh shit. You gasped, clasping your palm over your mouth, “Please tell me I didn’t.”

Ron erupted in unsympathetic giggles, laughing at your pale complexion, “Y/N, you told Fred you fancied him!” 

Eyes wide, you shook your head furiously, “No I didn’t!” 

“Well now we know why you’re not a Ravenclaw,” Harry added, joining Ron in his laughter fit. 

“Shut it, Potter!” you hissed, dropping your head in your hands. This cannot be happening. “Godric, please can the universe just eat me alive now?”

“Well now, he definitely knows.”

“Ronald, stop it.” Hermione poked your side, a terrified look on her face. “Uh, Y/N?”

“What?” Just as you thought things couldn’t get worse, Fred was walking to where you’re sat. Your heart was jumping in your chest. Your palms grew sweaty and you couldn’t stop your foot from nervously tapping on the floor. Should I run, you thought, or should I just act like nothing happened? 

Before you could make a decision, Fred took a seat beside you. 

“Hello, darling,” he grinned, biting his bottom lip. 

You squirmed in your seat, trying to ignore Ron and Harry’s muffled giggles in the back. You gulped, “Hiya, Fred. How you doin’ today?” 

“Lovely, thanks for asking,” he replied, a smile still etched on his face. He cocked his head to the side, “And yours, love?” 

You swallowed down the butterflies that flew in your stomach. You played with your thumbs, unable to look at him in the eye. “Fine.” 

“Good, good.” 

“Yup.” 

“Well, good talking to you,” Fred got up and dusted his pants, leaving you dumbfounded in your seat. Was that it? Well, you thought, that wasn’t so bad. You turned around, offering him a tight-lipped smile out of courtesy, before turning back around and returning to your food. 

“That was anticlimactic, wasn’t it?” Ron frowned. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Fred stopped and walked over to you again. He leaned down so close that you could smell the mint toothpaste he used that morning. His breath tickled your ear, making you shiver. Fred’s lips touched the skin that connected your neck and your ear, pressing a soft kiss there. Then he whispered, “I fancy you, too.” 

He shot you a wink before walking away. You blushed furiously, fingers raising up to trace the place where his lips once were. Grinning at your friends, you breathed out, “I think he knows.”

TAGS:

@rexorangecouny

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine #frances x taylor swift x harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x yn #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley drabble #fred weasley one shot #frances writes #frances song fics

[blazedbakugou]

selfish

In which Bakugou finally gives in to his heart’s desires despite his brain’s protests and allows himself to be selfish just this once.

a/n: this is the part two of my Bakugou fic I posted a while back. Though reading the first one will provide more context, this fic can also be read alone.

read part one here!

read part three here!

genre: angst with a fluffy ending

warnings: angst but there’s a happy ending, aged up characters

word count: 2.4k

pairing(s): katsuki bakugou x gn!reader (romantic)

selfish - PnB Rock

Bakugou looked out the car window as he watched trees, buildings, and streetlights disappear from view. The car ride back home from Kirishima’s was a quiet one, perfect for contemplation and revelations. He was so deep in thought that he had failed to notice that this wasn’t the route to his apartment but instead it was on the way to yours.

“Oi, Shitty Hair, where are you taking me? My place is that way,” he pointed his thumb in the opposite direction.

Kirishima glanced over at him before focusing on the road ahead, “well, I just thought that you two needed to sort things out… so I’m taking you to their place.”

“Yeah? Well, what makes you think I wanna talk to that dumbass?” Bakugou grunted.

Except, that wasn’t what he was worried about. He knew that he’d royally fucked up at the party from the week before, and the guilt had been eating away at him since. Bakugou was aware that you had every right to be upset with him and he wouldn’t be too surprised if you didn’t want to speak to him after your fallout. He just hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

“Don’t gotta lie to me, Bakubro. That wouldn’t be very manly of you, besides I’m tired of seeing you look so miserable.”

Your apartment complex came into view as Kirishima turned a corner, entering the parking lot.

“Tch, if this goes wrong then I just want you to remember that it was your idea to take me here.” The blonde scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

- - -

Bakugou wiped his hands against the material of his pants, drying off the sweat that had collected on his walk to your front door. He went over everything he wanted to say in his head before taking a deep breath and knocking on the wooden door. The voice in his head nagged at him louder than ever to turn around and never look back, he could get away in time if he ran, he thought. With each passing second, the voice grew louder and louder until the idea sounded nearly too tempting to pass up. Of course, before he could walk away and flee the scene, you answered the door.

“What do you want, Bakugou?”

He glanced up to look at you, grimacing at the coldness in your voice and how could he ignore the way you’d called him by his last name? Though his mind was soon filled with other concerns, like how exhausted you looked and sounded.

“Just wanted to talk…” his voice came out uncharacteristically timid as if he was afraid you’d slam the door in his face any second now.

You scoffed bitterly, “oh really? Now you want to talk? Thought you were too busy?”

“Look, I know I fucked up. Trust me, I know. So can we just go inside so we can talk?” Bakugou awkwardly shifted back and forth on his feet, hands shoved into his pockets while his gaze remained on you.

A brief silence filled the air between you two as he waited for your response, nervously chewing on his bottom lip in the meantime. You sighed before silently pushing the door open and stepping aside, warily letting him in once again. Shutting the door behind him, you motioned for him to head towards the couch.

“Just… wait here,” you said before disappearing into your room.

The blonde felt out of place as he stood in your living room, decorated with picture frames on the walls. He hadn’t been in your apartment in a long time, probably not since your housewarming party that you threw shortly after graduating from UA. The place didn’t look that much different from what he remembered, you still had the same rug, though it had a few stains now and the scent of the caramel apple scented candles you loved still lingered in the air.

After a few moments of standing in place awkwardly, he hesitantly walked towards the chimney to further inspect a picture that had caught his attention. It was a photo of you and him back when you still attended UA, the very same photo he’d kept in his wallet all these years. Hesitantly picking up the picture frame, he felt himself relax a bit as he reminisced all the good memories he shared with you.

“Miss those days?”

Your voice spooked him enough to clumsily place the picture frame back to where it belonged. Unsure what to say, Bakugou remained silent though his eyes spoke for him. God, he missed those times dearly.

“Yeah,” you sighed before walking into the living room, “I do too. Everything was a lot less confusing back then.”

Still, at a loss for words, Bakugou followed you like a lost puppy to the couch before tentatively sitting down. He felt like an idiot for not being able to use his words and get this over with, but it was your presence that turned him into a speechless fool.

“Are you going to keep staring at me? Or are you going to finally tell me what the fuck is going on?” You rolled your eyes at him from the opposite end of the sofa.

“Uh, yeah I just- I don’t know what to say.” He admitted bashfully.

“You’re joking, right? You don’t know what to say? Why are you even here?”

“No- that’s not what I meant. Obviously, I came here to get some things off my chest. I’m just not very good at this sort of thing and...” his voice trailed off into nothing but silence.

“Spit it out already, for fucks sake. I’m tired of waiting, Bakugou.” Your harshness stung but he knew he deserved it.

“Listen, I came to say that… I’m sorry. Okay? I know that I’ve been an asshole and probably caused you a few headaches,” he noticed your scoff before continuing, “I was dealing with some personal issues and took it out on you and I’m sorry.”

“What personal issues were you dealing with that could’ve warranted you treating me like shit? What could’ve been so bad that you shoved aside all our years of friendship and pretended like I didn’t even fucking exist, huh?”

Up until this point, you’d done a decent job at keeping your feelings bottled up. Years of doubt, pain, and confusion were all kept under wraps until now.

“Do you have any idea how much sleep I’ve lost staying up wondering what I did wrong and why you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore? Do you have any clue how much it hurt when I realized that my supposed best friend didn’t want to talk to me anymore?”

There was a certain rawness behind your words, a glimpse at your emotions that showed how hurt you truly were. Bakugou could tell that you were upset, and rightfully so. He knew he needed to hurry up and get his point across before it was too late, and yet he remained frozen in place. Mind racing at a million miles per hour, heart seemingly beating accordingly. At one point, your words had stopped registering in his head, all he could hear was the sound of his heartbeat.

“Oh, my god! Are you even listening?” You exclaimed exasperatedly.

Bakugou blinked a few times before replying, “yes! I’m listening, I just- there’s a lot on my mind and it’s- it’s a lot.”

You stared at him expectantly, waiting for a response to the rant you’d just dumped on him. It was hard to look at him for longer than a few seconds, and if you looked for a moment longer, you feared that you’d give in and forgive him. But you needed to stay strong and stand your ground, you couldn’t keep putting up with his shit forever and pretend like it was okay. You deserved better.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he sighed.

“Well, you did.”

His eyes flashed a look of guilt before he averted his gaze to his lap, “I know I did, and I’m sorry. Didn’t mean for things to get this bad, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Okay… but I still want an explanation as to why you suddenly decided to change your attitude towards me.”

“I know! I’m getting there, damn it. This isn’t easy for me, you know. I’m trying my best so just… be patient with me.” He frowned.

“Can I… can I try something? Do you trust me?” Your expression softened, body turning towards him.

“Tch. I guess so.” Bakugou grumbled.

“Then I want you to come here and rest your head on my lap, like the old days. Remember?” You offered him a slight smile as you patted your thighs.

A confused expression fell upon Bakugou’s face as he stared back at you. It took him a moment before he slowly let his guard down just enough to do as you said, hesitantly resting his head on your lap. You smiled down at him before gently rubbing circles on his temples, something you did back in UA whenever he strained himself too much during training. A noticeable silence filled the room as he felt himself melting into your embrace, something he had missed dearly.

“Now, go ahead and talk to me. I’m listening.”

Bakugou nodded before taking a deep breath, “you’re too kind for your own good, you know. I don’t deserve this, and I sure as hell don’t deserve you, not after everything I’ve done.”

“Ssh, just keep talking.”

“But it’s the truth…” he sighed, “you want to know why I’ve been so distant?”

You hummed.

The blonde shut his eyes as he tried to gather his thoughts, “it’s ‘cause I was doing you a favor— or at least I thought I was. I thought that by leaving you in the past, with my memories of UA, that I’d be able to make things easier on the both of us. Apparently, that wasn’t the case because here we are, three years later back to square one.”

“Why would you think that would be such a good idea?”

“Because… all my life I’ve been this selfish bastard who destroyed everything in his path to get to the top. I’ve done fucked up shit that caused so much pain, so much destruction and if I could take it all back then trust me, I would. Eventually, I got tired of being the bad guy, so I decided that it would be best if I just left you alone.”

Your hands ceased momentarily, “So let me get this straight. You thought that you’d be doing me a favor by ghosting me with no warning? Didn’t you ever stop to consider just how hard it would be for me to lose my best friend?”

“You think it’s been any easier on me?” He scoffed.

“I feel like there’s still more you’re not telling me.”

“Yeah… I guess there’s no more avoiding it now, is there?”

“Nope.”

A sigh slipped past the blonde’s lips, “Figured. Listen here dumbass ‘cause I’m only saying this once. I didn’t exactly plan on falling for my best friend, but I did. It scared the hell out of me at first, just ask Shitty Hair. It still scares me if I’m completely honest.”

“How long? Since you realized that you had feelings for me?” You questioned.

“Far too long.”

Truthfully, Bakugou couldn’t have given you an accurate response even if he wanted to. He had no idea when these feelings had started to develop, all he knew was that one day you smiled at him and he felt his heart race like never before.

“Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“Be happy that I even told you because I was already set on taking these feelings with me to the grave.”

“Is it really so bad that you like me?” You frowned.

Part of you knew that Bakugou was never the best at putting things nicely and usually it didn’t bother you. Not after years of growing accustomed to his blunt honesty. But that didn’t mean that his words didn’t sting just a tiny bit. Sure, you were happy that you’d gotten your answer but perhaps you’d be happier if he didn’t seem so bothered by the fact that he had feelings for you.

“You need to stop doing that. Stop talking about yourself like you’re just another damn extra. All my life, I’ve looked down on others. Never thought anyone would ever be as great as me. Yet, here you are and now I realize that I’m the one who isn’t good enough for you.”

Bakugou let out a frustrated sigh before sitting up and distancing himself from you, “So maybe it is bad that I like you as much as I do. ‘Cause, you deserve to be with someone perfect for you and I am far from that… Except, I don’t want to let you go. I’m fuckin’ selfish and I want to keep you all to myself. It’s fucked up, I know, but it’s the truth.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, too busy processing all the information that had been dumped on you. It was a lot, but not necessarily in a bad way. There’d always been a glimmer of hope in the back of your mind that he felt the same way but you never expected him to ever admit it. Now that everything was out in the open, you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with joy. Katsuki Bakugou, your best friend whom you’d been secretly harboring feelings for had finally admitted that those feelings were mutual.

“I’m the idiot that fell in love with their best friend...” the blonde mumbled, low enough that you’d nearly missed it.

If he had said anything else before that sentence then you hadn’t heard it, you found it hard to focus on his words when all you could think about was kissing him. Ignoring the nerves racing through your body, you took a leap of faith and gently shoved him down onto the sofa, leaning in for a kiss. Bakugou’s face heated up almost instantly with the blush spread across his face as evidence, his hand instinctively cradling the back of your head.

You smiled against his lips, “Well, then I guess that makes two of us.”

masterlist // taglist open // requests open

@combat-wombatus @sunflowersuki @blacpiink

#bakugou fluff #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugou fluff #katsuki bakugo fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha imagine #my writings

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Things You Said When You Were Scared- Prompt Fill

Bit of an au after the worm attack. Jon is having a rough time.

CWs injury (canon typical worm related), paranoia, exhaustion. nausea, vomiting (it's not gross, I promise), pain, dizziness, fainting, medication mention, canon typical quarantine mention, food mention.

@janekfan @sukurarose92

Jon can’t remember the last time he felt this terrible.  There probably had been other times.  A few terrible flus over the years, and getting almost eaten by a spider once upon a time…. but time has a tendency to dull the particularly bad stuff, aside from say, flashbacks and nightmares.  But it’s the brain protecting itself.  You don’t remember the pain.  You don’t remember the fear.  You remember the memory of the pain, wrapped in spun-sugar-strands of time, growing dusty on a shelf.  You remember the taste of fear, the gripping anxiety of it.  You remember surges of it in the depths of the night and you panic… but you can’t remember it all the time.  That just isn’t how the brain works.  

Which is irrelevant.  All irrelevant, because the pain medication he’s been given is wearing off.  He thinks Sasha and Tim went off to do something….?  Probably panic together about the fresh worm trauma.  Martin?  Jon hasn’t the foggiest clue.  

Possibly because he’s hazy with pain and the last of the drugs that have been keeping him going this long.  Staggering into the walls as he tries to exit the institute.  Eyes closing involuntarily against the pain and the exhaustion.  Limbs feeling so alien between the bandages and the aching, weeping holes they hide beneath them.  Pounding dizziness down to his core.  

He aches.  

Phantom itching-crawling-squirming on his skin, through his muscles, down to the bone.  The actual holes chewed into him.  

He isn’t sure how he’s going to get to his flat.  He can’t stay in the Archives, not with the police in the tunnels and the ECDC still doing whatever it is they are doing.  But the thought of taking a cab or the tube make him want to tear his remaining skin off.  Makes him want to just lie down on the sidewalk.  

He even thinks making it to the front doors will end him.  

He’s dizzy and sick and his limbs won’t carry him.  

He has to sit down on the first step outside the door, sticking his head between his knees.  He can’t do this.  He can’t.  He’s just going to sit here all night, or risk passing out or throwing up or risking any other horror of the late twilight consuming him before he can collapse into unconsciousness in the comfort of his own bed.  

He waits for the world to stop spinning, and tries not to cry.  

Because he can’t have more pain medication until he eats something.  He can’t eat anything because it won’t stay in him, and even if it would, he can’t go anywhere.  He’s stuck.  Less than a five minute walk from his office where Gertrude DIED, from where he was attacked where he thought he’d be Safe, where he thought Martin would be safe.  A few paces from where the dead worms were pulled out of him and he was scoured raw and sterile in a hastily assembled quarantine on the sidewalk.  

He tries not to spiral into a panic attack right here.  

Trying to pull his breathing under control, because it isn’t helping his tenuous grasp on the directions of up and down.  

Where is the next danger going to come from?  

Is this when Mr. Spider will strike?  Letting him go until he’s weak and exposed and alone?  

Or is this where some unknown (or known) hostile comes in with a grand betrayal and a gun.  Leaving him to be another mystery, or a willfully ignored casualty of something he can’t begin to understand?  

“Jon?”  

Jon jumps.  And very, very much regrets it.  Heart racing, head spinning, a fresh hurt.  A fresh reminder of every opening in his flesh that doesn’t belong there.  “Ma… Martin?”  He asks around gasping and shuddering breaths.  “What …are you doing here?”  

His voice is a little distant, a little hallow.  “Don’t really have anywhere to do, do I?  You packed up my flat.  All in boxes at some storage unit.  Now, my bedroom is tangentially part of a crime scene.”

“…Right.”  It’s all his fault.  

He needs to sleep.  He needs some painkillers.  He might need to throw up, but that is an issue he plans to avoid, if at all possible.  Ditto to fainting.  Although that seems a little more inevitable.  

Martin makes no move to continue speaking.  “So… your plan was to just camp out on this bench?”  

Martin shrugs.  “Dunno.  Figured I might call Tim?  At some point?  Or try to sneak back into the Archives once the police leave?  Can’t really afford a hotel.   Maybe just sleep on this bench.  Try to decompress or something.  Jon.   Why are you still here?   Said you’d go home hours ago.”

Well he can’t exactly tell Martin he’d passed out in the break room for some indeterminate measure of time, then spent another eternity getting sick in the toilets.  And then possibly passed out again.  That’s not just something you tell Martin and expect him not to fuss over you.   And Jon tries to tell himself that that would be suffocating and not kind of welcome right now.   He tells himself that the thought of spending more time with Martin brings discomfort, and irritation, and fear.  It’s not like he can prove that Martin won’t kill him.  But he’s too tired to think about that.  He just wants to sleep.  

“....Um?”

Martin looks at him, probably for the first time.  “Jesus, Jon.  You look terrible.”

Jon hmmms in agreement.  Not like he can argue.  Martin’s too nice to comment on the bandages.  A little too tactful.  Right?  Martin’s bumbling and stupid, but he’s tactful.  He’s Nice.  As irritating as he can be, he’s just so Nice.  

But, it’s not like he can argue.  He’s covered in bandages and a clammy sweat and he’s halfway into a panic attack and he can’t really walk and he just wants to lay down right here until the world stops moving.  Both in the sense that he’s dizzy and in the sense that things beyond his comprehension are happening at a pace he can’t begin to catch up with.  

“Can I... call you a cab?   Or... or something?”   

Jon shakes his head as much as he dares, which isn’t much.  No cabs.  He gets carsick.  He doesn’t stand a chance.  

“Well you can’t just sit there all night.”  

“Right, like you plan to?”  

Martin looks away.  

And Jon goes back to trying not to pass out.  

“Tim lives close by, doesn’t he, I walk you there?  Or… um… carry you?”  Martin’s trying to be tactful.  Jon is pretty sure that is supposed to be a pointed look at his legs.  

Jon scowls.  (Not that Martin is wrong.  There is something very wrong with his knee.)  

“Can’t just …intrude like that.  I’m sure he doesn’t want me around.  Not professional…”

“Jon, you saw him in his pants today.  You were put in quarantine together.  I think you’re past all normal working relationship boundaries, even if he wasn’t your friend.  I can’t just leave you here, and you clearly aren’t planning to get yourself home.  Besides… maybe if he takes you in… maybe he’ll take me in, too.”  

Jon stares down at the sidewalk, drifting in lazy, nauseous, out of focus movements before his eyes.  “He doesn’t want me around.  Not after taking Sasha’s job.  Not after making him stay to get his statement.”  Jon whispers at the pavement.  

“Yeah like he’s still jealous for Sash, after that creepy worm lady went specifically for the “Archivist.”  Whatever the fuck that means.  And you know Tim was only pissed because he was in pain and tired, like you are now!”  

“I should just go home…”  

“Yeah, but you won’t.”  

Christ Martin’s stubborn.  

“Now.  Can you walk, or do I need to cary you?”  

Jon tries pull himself up to prove a point, but he comes to in Martin’s arms a few moments later, Martin loudly cursing at him.  He’s in too much pain to really hear what Martin is trying to say to him.  And he’s feeling even more sick.  And he wonders where his prescriptions and paramedic provided cane have gotten to, but he really doesn’t really care, because Martin is solid and warm and he’s so tired.  

He wakes up again on Tim’s couch.  Sick to his stomach from the oppressive oder of takeout.  

“Woah, boss.  Not on the couch.  I’ve got you.”

Throwing up nothing into the bin that’s been hastily shoved in front of him even though he’s got nothing in him anymore.  He sobs around dry heaves until it’s just the silence juddering sobs.  He Hurts.  

He wants to hide.  From Martin who is making tea, from Sasha running a bandaged hand through his hair.  From Tim supporting the bin, and Jon himself.  

He curls in on himself.  Wills himself into unconsciousness, but the injuries pulse with each uneven breath, stomach still roiling painfully.  He needs more medicine, but he can’t think about hoping to keep it down.  

He sobs against Tim, as the bin is pried away.  

“‘Hurts.  Tim ‘m scared.”  

Scooped up.  Held, gently.  

“Why didn’t you head home?  Why not go right away so you could get toast and water into you, and sleep until you could take some more meds?”  Tim holding him.  Martin awkwardly sat by his side with ginger tea.  Which Jon doesn’t care for, but Tim hasn’t kept mint tea since Jon stopped visiting.  Still… it should help.  Sasha clearing away the food smells, bless her.  “Why did you have to take our statements?  I would have invited you back here, if you didn’t?”

That last question doesn’t help.  

He doesn’t know he’s tearing at the bandages until Tim’s tugging his hands away, and Martin is bemoaning the splotches of blood now decorating the bandages that are quickly becoming sweaty and grimy.  Couldn’t even stay clean after he was scrubbed sterile.  Martin and Sasha and Tim are spotless and scoured.  

“I… I don’t want to disappear.  I… do-don’t want to be found in the tunnels.  I don’t want to vanish without a trace, I…“  He doesn’t even know.  He can’t breathe.  He’s lightheaded.  He Hurts.  

“Hey… hey hey.  It’s.. it’s okay to be scared.  Why don’t we get you cleaned up, okay?  Then see if we can get some saltines and tea into you so you can get some meds, eh?  Then we’re gonna all get some sleep.”  

“I don’t want to lose you…”  Jon’s voice swallowed by Tim scooping him up.  Martin hovering with the bin and Jon’s bag of medical supplies.  

Sasha’s back by then, brushing back Jon’s curls.  “And you won’t.  Sooner you leave, the sooner we can all get some sleep, alright?”  

Jon closes his eyes, and nods, letting Tim carry him to the washroom.  

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #timothy stoker #sahsa james #magnus pod #tma fic #cw injury #cw nausea #cw vomit #cw fainting #cw dizziness #cw medication #cw quarantine #my fic #my words #my art

[gayaristocrat]

I Got Everything I wanted...

Episode 1: Filmed Before a Live Studio Audience...

Pairing: Vision x Male Reader

Taglist: N/A

‼️Authors Note‼️: I'm finally at a point where I can write this story. I know that It is long overdue, so I hope this can make up for it. This story is going to be breaking the 4th wall a lot since they tend to do that in the actual show. Also, please let me know in my Inbox/Askbox if you would like to be tagged every time I upload a story to this series. While reading this, you may realize that it seems rushed, and that's because it was. I wanted to put this out as soon as I possibly could. Also since you guys voted that I just divide it up into parts for you to read. I will be uploading part 2 whenever I am able to.

Summary: (Male Name) and Vision struggle to conceal their powers during dinner with Vision's boss and his wife

Time Period: 1956 (So everything in this chapter is going to be colorless and in black and white)

Word count: 4k+

Word Key:

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Have you ever dreamed of living the life you always wanted? Have you ever dreamed of something so bad to the point where you would do anything to get it. Have you ever dreamed of something so bad to the point where all of your care for others went out the window? Have you ever dreamed of wanting something so bad to the point where you would stop anyone who gets in your way.

"(Male Name), I love you so much. Please don't do this, cant you see that everyone is hurting, that everyone is in so much pain?"

"I'm sorry Vision, but I can't. I can't loose you...not again. I never meant for things to be this way, but now I can't go back. Not without you"

---REWIND MANY EPISODES BACK---

For a second, everything is black. The TV clicks on and a burst of grey static illuminates the screen. Everything is black and white, not a single drop of color is in the area. A happily little tune starts playing as a colorless 1956 Buick Special drives up a tiny hill and back down past a sign which says 'Speed Limit 35'. The camera angle changes to the back of the car, showing a banner above the license plate, 'Just Married'. Next, the camera cuts to us, (Male Name) and Vision, newlywed husbands.

It finally happened, we finally got married! Both of us turn take a quick look and smile at each other with nothing but love and glee, it seemed like nothing could go wrong in this moment.

🎵Oh~

A newlywed couple just moved into town,

A regular husband and husband,🎵

Vision turns his head back to the road and continues driving until we turn down a happy little neighborhood. Each house on the street has a pattern of different color greys with black roofs, their yards decorated with equally bland colorless flowers and grass. Children playing outside, and adults chatting with one another while they tend to their gardens, or while walking their dogs. Everyone is just so cheery and happy, even the mailman waves at us as we pass him. Everything is exactly the way it's supposed to be, perfect.

🎵Who left the big city,

To find a quiet life,

(Male Name)Vision!🎵

Vision drives into the driveway of our new home. We quickly hop out of the car and approach the house, but before we walk in I take notice of the 'For Sale' sign still in the yard. I quickly flick my hand and use my magic to change the sign to 'Sold'. After that I dust my hands off with a proud smile on my face as Vision scoops me in his arms bridal style, opens the front door, and carries me inside. I flick my wrist again and the front door closes and locks as we both move to the Livingroom of our already decorated 2 story home.

🎵He's a magical boy,

In a small town locale

And a hubby who's part machine,

How will this duo fit in and pull through?🎵

Once Vision puts me back on my feet, we start swaying with the jingle playing in the background while title cards pop up of written words that I don't care to read right now since I'm too busy enjoying this happy moment with my new husband. Vision then gives me a little twirl before wrapping his arms around my waist as we both dip into a loving heartfelt kiss.

🎵Oh, by sharing a love,

Like you've never seen

(Male Name)Vision!🎵

---SCENE CHANGE---

The scene suddenly changes as the lights flick on and cameras start rolling. You start the scene off by walking into the kitchen and start making your way to one of the grey drawers next to the oven and you grab one of your favorite aprons. Humming a little tune, you wrap the white cloth around your waist and start observing the kitchen to see what needs to be picked up or cleaned. Deciding to work on putting up the dishes, you raise your hand and the newly cleaned plates start levitating off of the counters and float off to the display racks, you then raise your other hand and a dark colored dish cloth floats out of the cabinet and it begins drying a glass cup. You then turn your back to the cup to observe if it had been cleaned good enough, suddenly you jump as a loud crash echoes through out the kitchen. Turn to see what the problem is, you only to find Vision looking up from today's news paper and glances at the shattered plate at the ground while a laughing crown erupts out of nowhere.

"My husband and his flying saucers" He says in his thick English accent (or is it British🤔), with a joking tone.

"My husband and his indestructible head" I reply back in the same tone as another laugh erupts from the crowd.

He then folds his newspaper and walked over to your direction, giving you a kiss on the cheek when he arrived, causing you to chuckle while twirling your finger, making the plate form back to it's original round shape before it floats off to it's designated spot.

"Vision, honey, what do you say to silver dollar pancakes, crispy hash browns, bacon, eggs, freshly squeezed orang juice and black coffee?" You say while walking over to the refrigerator, opening it and bending down, getting ready to grab out everything needed to make the meal for him.

"I'd say 'Oh, I don't eat food' " He says smiling at me, while the crown laughs again.

You look inside the fridge and hum to yourself in surprise while putting all the pieces together in your head before saying "Well, that explains the empty refrigerator then"

"(Male Name), my darling. Is there something special about today?"

"Well, I know the apron is a bit much dear, but I'm doing my best to blend in and have the 'Perfect House Husband' look." You say walking to meet him, assuming he's talking about the apron.

"No no, you don't have to try, you already are the perfect house husband." He says as he lightly grabs your chin with his pointer finger and thumb and lightly giving you a 'boop' on the nose. "But I was referring to the calendar. Someone's drawn a heart right above today's date." You then looked at him as you cluelessly try to figure out what he's talking about, so he puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you around to face the calendar behind you and he rests his chin on your head as you both look at the heart.

Trying to act like you know what day it is, you say "Well...d..dont tell me you've forgotten Vis?"

"Oh silly (y/n), I'm incapable of forgetfulness. I remember everything. That's not an exaggeration. In fact, I'm even incapable of exaggeration" He rambles boastfully.

"Hmm, well then if that's true, then maybe you can tell me what's so important about today's date"

He pauses for a second and thinks before he blows a slow puff of air out of his mouth, then deciding on saying "Uhhh...what was the question again? Oh well, no matter, perhaps you've forgotten yourself"

"Me? Heavens, no, haha. I've been so looking forward to it."

You both have actually been looking forward to day. Today you are celebrating...The first time you...uhhh...have ever celebrated this occasion before. It's a special day indeed, perhaps an evening?...of great significance?...to you both, naturally.. obviously...exactly! Well done for the both of you.

You two ramble on for a few more minutes trying to drill the other into spilling on what was so special about today, but you two couldn't since you were both obviously unknowing about it, then Vision remembered something.

"Well, sorry darling, that's me off to work, then." Vison says fixing his grey suit jacket and grabbing his suitcase walking to the front door. You quickly grab his hat hanging on the coat rack and place it on his head, fixing it to make it look straight.

"Also don't forget-"

"(Male Name), my dear how many times do I have to tell you I don't forg- oh you mean my face right?"

You nod letting him know that was what you were getting at. The audience laughs again as he quickly shakes his head and his face and hands transform from cold metal to warm flesh. Vision then puts his palm to his face and pretends to blow you a kiss, while you play along and pretend to catch it and put it over your heart.

Once he leaves out the door, you lock it a return to the kitchen, and make your way to the calendar, chewing on your polished nails (if you don't want nail polish then skip that part) as you try to remember the symbolism of the heart. Not even a second later your thoughts get interrupted as a loud knock at the door startles you back to 'reality'.

Going to go see who it is, you push the door that separates the living room and the kitchen, closer to the knocking. You quickly open the door and see a woman with a dark plaid dress and a styled black hairdo holding a grey plant in a white pot.

"Oh hello, dear. I'm Agnes, your neighbor to the right. My right, not yours" She says in a sing-song tone as she uninvitedly makes her way into the house. The eruption of cackles echo as you look at her in confusion as to why she decided to step inside, but decided to keep a calm attitude and not say anything about it.

"Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you to the block. My mother-in-law was in town...so I wasn't!" she says laughing with the audience once more as her dress sways with her movements. She rushes the potted plant into your arms and you smile and take it as she makes her way into the living room to continue her snooping. "So what's your name? Where are you from? And most importantly how's your bridge game, hon?" She says not loosing a single breath, and of course not giving you time to answer in between questions.

"Umm...Well I'm (Male Name)" You say reaching your hand out to shake hers

"(Male Name)? Charmed!" She joyfully says and returns the gesture.

"Golly, you sure do settle fast! Yes sir you did indeed! Did you use a moving company?"

"Why I sure did. Those boxes don't move themselves." The audience laughs as your inside joke, because let's be honest, the boxes did move themselves since you used your magic to decorate everything. (Damn (Male Name), you really are a powerful sum' bitch)

'"So (Male Name), what's a single boy like you doing rattling around this big house?" She says siting on the couch.

You laugh to yourself and dreamily look at the finger your ring should be on that Vision gave you to claim you as his, (He liked it so he put a ring on it.....sorry...anyways) but paused as it wasn't there. That's not right, because you could have sworn that it was there when you created this rea-

"Oh no, I'm not single I-"

"Well I don't see a ring

"Well I can promise you, I am indeed married...To a man. A human one and tall too! A a matter of fact, he'll be home later tonight for a special occasion just the two of us." You say putting emphasis on 'occasion' with a wink.

"Oh is it somebody's birthday? A holiday?" Agnes questions bouncing up and down in the couch with her legs crossed like a 'proper lady'.

"Well, no and no"

"An anniversary then?"

"Ye-uhh...yes, Its our anniversary!" You shout, finally able to remember what that heart meant.

Agnes waves you over to come sit on the couch with her and you obey, sitting down she grabs and rests both sets of you two's clasped hands on your apron.

"Sooo...tell me, how many years" She asks letting out a little squeal.

"Well..uhhh..it...it uh feels like we've always been together"

"You lucky man-" She shakes her head remembering about her own husband "-the only way Ralph would remember our anniversary is if there was a beer names June 2nd." She chuckles as the audience laughs from nowhere again. "So what do you have planned?"

"How do you mean?" You questioned her. I mean you never really did have time to come up with anything since you just realized, or assumed, what today was.

"For your special night, (Male Name)! A young boy like yourself doesn't have to do much, but it's still fun to set the scene. Say-" she says standing up to slowly make her way to the door "-I was just reading a crackerjack magazine article called 'How To Treat Your Husband To Keep Your Husband', and let me tell you somethin'...what Ralph could really use is, 'How to Goose Your Wife So You Don't Loose Your Your Wife'. She kidd's as her and the audience laugh. You look at her and shake your head trying to hold back your own laughter. "Hang on, I'll go grab it and we can start planning. Oh, this is gonna be a gas!" She shouts running to the door so she can leave and run to her house.

-----Time Skip---

Both Agnes and you are back on the couch, looking through her magazines trying to find ideas for the anniversary dinner you planned for you and Vision to share, when out of nowhere, the phone started ringing interrupting you two. You got up and rushed over to it hoping you don't miss the unknown caller, you pick it up and put it to your ear and then start talking.

"Vision residence how may I help you"

"(Male Name), darling I-"

"Vision, my dearest husband. How are you sweetheart?" You say cutting him off from his obviously panicked and frantic voice. I mean come on, you are just excited to hear your husband's voice after a hours of him being gone.

"Listen about tonight-"

You cut him off again, already knowing that he was going to talk about the anniversary. "Don't worry, dear, I have everything under complete control"

"Oh, well, that is a relief. I must confess, I'm really rather nervous" He says over the phone.

"Nervous? Whatever for?" You question.

"Well, you know, darling, I still get a little tongue-tied."

The audience coo's and aww's at how a dust of grey creeps up on your (dark grey/grey) cheeks. "Vis, after all this time..." you giggle out.

"There's a lot riding on this (Male Name)! If tonight doesn't go just so, I think this could be the end.

'Wait what' you think to yourself

"Well, it's just one night. There's no need to get dramatic." You say in a worried tone as you grasp your now queasy stomach.

Vision's tone begins to get more serious as the conversation continues in his attempt to express how important this is to you. "Look, I think the best course of action is to impress the wife."

"Well, first, I think you mean husband. And secondly I also think the best course of action is to impress the other husband too." You look over and give Agnes a thumbs up and a wink in her direction, and she does the same while sipping her martini.

"Glad to know we're both on the same page, love. Until tonight, then, my sweet little husband" Vision says making two smooching noises through the phone to you.

"Until tonight...my robotic husband" You return, whispering the last part so Agnes doesn't hear you. She couldn't hear you anyways, being too busy sipping her drink and flipping through the pages. You finally gently put the phone on the hook and return to the couch.

---Time Skip, Later Tonight---

Before Vision made it home, you set the big dining table that was next to the living room and tossed colorless silk scarfs on all of the laps in the room to set the mood and made your way to the bedroom to get dressed to surprise him for when he gets home. When you heard the door open and heard his voice, you tip toed your way out of the bedroom and into the living room, dressed a long fluffy white lingerie robe with white fur that wrapped around the arms of it which was trailing behind you, exposing both of your (dark grey/grey) legs. You then went all the way to Vision's black silhouette and gently wrapped your hands around his eyes, causing him to jump form the sudden contact.

The audience laughed again as they know your mistake. 'Where the hell is that laughing coming from, and whey is it happening right now of all times?' you thought to yourself in confusion.

"Guess who~" you seductively whispered to your husbands.

Suddenly the lights turn on and you hear Vision's voice that was filled with a mix of shock, embarrassment, and irritation at your recklessness. "(MALE NAME) WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"

You gasp and look in his direction. "Vision? What are you-" then it hit's you, if Vision is right there, then who's-

"Oh! Oh my stars, I'm so sorry!" You say to the man you mistook for your husband. You quickly uncover his eyes and stumble away from him as he stares at you in shock. Then you look down at your attire and try to cover your exposed leg as much as possible.

"What is the meaning of this!" The bald headed mad says appalled, as his wife stands behind him looking around cluelessly.

Vision interrupts with his stammering voice just as confused as everyone else. "Well..uh yeah (Male Name) what is the meaning of-" Suddenly it hits him and he tries to comes up with an excuse off the top of his head. "-Oh, the meaning of it! You want to know the meaning of it...and...the meaning of it is...that this is the tradition of (Random Foreign Country/Continent) greeting of hospitality. Uhh...guess who???" Vision says as he runs behind you and overs your eyes.

"Oh is that my host being me?" You say playing along.

"It certainly is, darling. Lovely to make your acquaintance" Vision says vigorously shaking your hand. "See i forgot to tell you my husband is from (Random Foreign Country/Continent)" he giggles along with the audience.

"Oh, how exotic!" The man's wife cheerfully laughs.

"I never knew such a place as that existed" He says in a dark yet serious tone.

"Oh hush Author, have you no culture. Oh and the robe, I absolutely love it!" His wife replies trying to lighten up the awkward mood.

"Thank you so much ma'am-" you march through the living room and snatch off the silk scarves from all the lamps and tightly grab Vision's hand. "-Can I just see you in the kitchen for a moment, sweetheart?"

You both then slam your way through the kitchen door and it swings closed behind you, leaving Vision's boss and his wife behind as they sit down on the couch and patiently (more like impatiently on Arthur's end) wait for your return. You then turn around and look at each other before throwing questions.

"Who are those people?!"

"What are you wearing!?"

"Why are they here?"

"What are you wearing!?" Vision questions again boldly

"Well, it's out anniversary, that's why I'm wearing this!"

"Our anniversary of what?" Vison says, desperate to know what the hell you were talking about. Eventually you had enough of these shenanigan's and throw the scarves down at his feet stomping your way to the kitchen chairs. "Well if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you!" you exaggerate, crossing your arms and pouting like a child

"(Male Name), darling! That...that man through there is my boss Mr. Hart! And his dear lady wife Mrs. Hart! The heart on the calendar was an abbreviation!" Vision whispers, roughly tapping his hand on the black heart drawn on the dull colored calendar.

You grab your head and shake it trying to put everything together. "Vision sweetie, you move at the speed of sound and I can make a pen float through the air. Who. Needs. To. Abbreviate!?"

Vision grabs both of your shoulders in an attempt to collect his thoughts and calm you down. "Darling, listen, it's all romantic to do the candles, the music, that stunning outfit. I don't wanna be unappreciative, but right now-"

"Your boss and his wife are expecting a home-cooked meal. Correct?" Vision nods his head while muttering 'exactly' while look around the kitchen in order to find somethin to serve to the unwarned visitation of guests. After looking around for a but, your eyes land on the mini round table that held a plate and food on it. "Well, does your boss and his wife have a hunger for a single chocolate-covered strawberry, split three ways?" Vision hisses while clenching his fists and shaking his head no.

"Oh wait, I might have better ideas" Without hesitation you raise both of your sands and snap your fingers, magically changing your outfit to the one you were wearing earlier that day, a pair of dark high waisted cuffed slacks and a white blouse to match (you can change if you don't like), and the audience claps in astonishment at your transformation whilst you tie your apron in a bow behind your back. Vision gives you a quick peck on the cheek and runs back to the living room to keep others company while you figure out what to serve everyone.

---Time Skip---

After minutes of looking, you couldn't find anything in the kitchen, and the refrigerator was empty, so you decided to call your good neighbor Agnes to see if she could pick up some things from the store and bring it over. A couple of minutes pass and you finally hear a familiar knock on the back door in the kitchen. As soon as you open it Agnes rushes through with her hands full of groceries stacked to her chin as she stumbles through the kitchen. Before you could even mutter out a 'thank you' she stops you dead in your tracks and puts all the food down on the table. "Before you can say anything don't think about it. I mean, what kind of housewife would I be if I didn't have a gourmet meal for four just lying about the place. Not that Ralph wants to eat anything other than baked beans, which explains a lot about his personal appeal, mind you." The audience laughs one more at her silly humor as you quickly render to her aid to grab some of the groceries before they could fall. Unfortunately, it seems like the Universe was not on your side since the large cooking pot crashed and hit the ground, echoing throughout the kitchen, while Agnes yelled out an overexaggerated 'oh my'.

You had to get rid of Agnes and as quickly as you can, so you decided to just push her out the back door despite her protests to help you cook. "Thank you so much Agnes but I can take it from here-"

"Are you sure dear, many hands make light work. And many mouths make good gossip too!"

"Oh ahahaha, you are so naughty! But-"

"Oh, shall I preheat the oven then? hmm?"

"That won't be necessary, thank you for your time!"

Somehow she managed to escape your grasp on her waist and make her way back to the counter to crab some kitchen tools to start cooking for you. "Well, I know you're in a pinch so this menu can be done in a snap." She says snapping her fingers before continuing her rambling. you run back over to her and snatch the utensils from her, setting them on the counter, and grabbing her arms to march her back to the door. "Lobster Thermidor with mini-minced turnovers to start. Chicken à la King with twice-cooked new potatoes for your second course, and Steak Diane with mint jellies for your main. Oh wait! Do you set your own jellies, dear?"

"Yes Agnes I do, now can you please-"

"Ah there you go, good boy! Recipe cards are all on the counter there. Bon Appétit!"

"Haha, yes will do, thank you so much again Agnes! Bye now!" You say slamming the door, making the audience laugh at your exhausted expression. Now that she's gone, you run to the middle of the kitchen and throw your arms around, making all of the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen fly open, the dishes start floating out, and the food starts cooking. Out of no where the doors to the island bar swoop open to show Mrs. Hart, but before she could see Vision distracts her by breaking out and singing Yackety Yack by The Coasters, causing her to break out into a little dance, making her way back to the couch. Dear gods and goddess', how lucky are you to have a savior like him.

But little did you know, that the night was only just beginning.

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Finish the fic? Leave a like and comment if you enjoyed it. Also, give it a reblog too! Once again, I'm so sorry it was rushed! Please don't be afraid to let me know if there are any typos or errors. I will go back and edit this

#Vision x male reader #Vision #Fanfiction series #Wandavision fandom #Wandavision episode 1 #marvel #wandavision spoilers #vision x male wanda reader #(y/n)Vision #Vision(y/n) #male reader x vision #male wanda reader x vision #male #reader #wandavision episode 2 #wandavision episode 3 #wandavision episode 4 #wandavision episode 5 #vision #1950 #1940 #tv show #tv series #(male name) x vision #vision x (male reader) #(male reader) insert #(male reader)

[n0wornever]

First Touch - Luke Patterson x Reader

Luke x reader - it’s the scene where Julie talks to Luke before the Orpheum show but instead it’s the reader planning to tell Luke how she feels before he “passes over”

(gif is not mine)

She knew she’d regret the decision as soon as she made it. 

But as she paced back in forth in my room, hands tingling, she knew that there was no way that I could see his face again that night. After Luke had lied to her face for weeks about their fate, Julie was the one who had to come into her room last night and tell her exactly what would happen. The words clung onto her chest, making it hard to breathe as they nibbled at the surface. What really hurt was the fact that the boys didn't have the guts to tell her themselves.

“So you’re telling me that they have to leave no matter what?” 

Julie nodded, placing her hand on the girl’s thigh. She could feel that there were tears already brimming in her eyes, but when she looked over to Julie’s glossy reflection, she completely lost control. 

“Why didn’t they tell me? Why did you all keep this a secret?” 

She could feel her voice raise in intensity as her mouth spat the question, causing Julie’s shoulders to tense. She grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently to soothe the aggression she just caused. This was not her fault Y/N, remember that. Julie’s shoulders fell back down as she began to to speak again.

“Luke told them not to. He said you’d be better off finding out later,” Julie’s thumb rubbed against the skin by my knee, a calming technique she’d picked up from our mother. “But I couldn’t hold it in anymore, you deserve to know.” 

I pointed her face to the ceiling, hoping that the ceiling fan above me could do its best to dry the tears flattened against the surface of my face. I had always thought that Luke had cared about me, maybe not to the level that I cared about him, but enough to be let in on his disappearing act. Luke had no reason to hide this from her. 

“Why would he want to keep this from me?” she finally asked, wiping a fresh tear from my face. “Wouldn’t he want me to say goodbye?”

Julie sighed, rocking their hands back and forth. Y/N had always told her that her silence was wide enough to draw fear from even the strongest person. It swelled with intention, and hesitation. The girl cleared her throat before repeating the question. Julie chewed on her bottom lip before finally speaking up.

“It’s complicated Y/N, you should ask him yourself.” 

Of course she’d encourage healthy conversation. She groaned as she fell onto her back on the bed below her. Julie followed suit, nestling her head in the crook of her sister’s neck, snuggling to her side. 

Now it was the night of The Orpheum show and she still hadn’t tried to find Luke throughout the week. In fact, she instead avoided rehearsals all together. Every afternoon Julie would knock on the door and ask her the same question. 

“Are you doing it today?” 

She’d shake my head, pushing my glasses back onto the bridge of her nose with a sigh. Julie would lean in the doorway with wide eyes, but Y/N would just shake my head before returning back to her notebook. As the door closed, she’d finally let herself breath evenly again.

She was writing to him. 

Two people can play this avoidance game, so she decided that she was going to stoop as low as he did and avoid confronting him in person. Instead, she hatched a plan to leave him a note in the pocket of his flannel before he left for him to read wherever he was. There was so much that she had to say, she just wanted to make sure she got it right. More importantly, she wanted to wait until the last moment so that he had to sit with it.

Yes. It was harsh, but as she sat there with boiling tears streaming down her cheeks she couldn’t just sulk with the feeling any longer. She had been the vulnerable one this whole time. Never pushing him when it came to talking about his parents, but opening up to him about her mother. Not forcing him to give her hints about new music, but brushing away his constant need to climb into her room weekly to peek into her lyric notebook. 

She understood why his walls were up, and he understood that he did the stupid things he did because he cared about her. But this, this was the last straw. She could not simply let him walk away from her forever without letting him know that his actions caused her pain. 

The idea of explaining the connection of what she felt when she was with him seemed exhaustive. It was months and months of moments that had spiraled out of my control until I had fallen completely into him. So I decided to start from the beginning, but to keep it short. The letter began with the moment that I had stumbled on Julie talking to herself in the garage. 

Her pen hovered over her own name at the bottom of the page for a moment. She moved the utensil up to the top of the the scribbled handwriting with clear purpose. She began to scratch out the first line of text but paused again as the ink hit the paper. Dropping the grey tube onto the surface below, she brought her hand up to the top of the crease and tore out the page. She folded into a perfect square before taking a deep breath. 

As the pressed the seam one last time, she heard her father call her down the stairs for dinner. She leaned back to lift the pillow up off of the top of her bed, placing the piece of paper on the pastel yellow sheets below before setting the it back down. She sighed once more before lifting herself off the best and making her way to the door. 

As soon as the girl turned the corner, Luke poofed into the room. He looked around for any sign of her, but the girl was nowhere to be found. Giving up, he fell onto her bed, bouncing everything in around in his vicinity. The pillow below his head was obviously one that Y/N used regularly, his head falling closer to the surface of the mattress than he’d like. 

Lifting his head off of the feathered material, moving to a seated position. He leaned backward, grabbing the square with both hands and raising it up. His eyes fell from the mint cover to a small square back on the bed. Luke threw the pillow to the left, hands reaching for his new object of interest. He looked to the left and right before unraveling the note. 

His eyes soared across each line with ease. The skin on his bottom lip tearing away from his mouth as he dug into it. His gaze lingered on a particular word at the end. 

Loving.

His first thought was to lash out at Julie for betraying their promise, but it was shortly replaced by his need to get to Y/N. His fingers gripped the paper tightly at his chest as he took a deep breath. As he sat still, he began to hear footsteps in the distance. Jumping in place, Luke frantically worked to get the paper folded back down to its original square shape. He replaced the pillow and then rose to a standing position. With a snap of his fingers, Luke was out of the room without a word. 

Julie spun into the room, humming to herself as she walked toward the bed. Scrunching her brow in confusion, she leaned her head out the door.  

“Where did you say your glasses went?” She yelled loudly down to her sister.

“They should be on my bed!” Y/N yelled back in annoyance.

Julie rolled her eyes as she turned onto her heels and re-entered the room. She couldn’t see the clear frames anywhere on the soft comforter. As she inched closer, she began to lift things out of the way to make her search easier. As she lifted the pillow on the righthand side, a small piece of paper flew at her chest. Dropping the soft rectangle onto the bed, she leaned down to the floor to pick it up.

She unfolded it slowly and carefully. As it unraveled, she began to read the words on the page. Her eyes fell left to right hastily as she got increasingly angry. She locked her jaw as her gaze fell onto the line that said ‘you are a coward, Lucas Patterson.’ She had to admit, her sister had a talent for writing something brash and harsh in the most poetic way imaginable. 

“Hey did you find,” Julie’s hands collapsed around the paper at the sound of the voice. “What are you doing.” 

Turning to face her awaiting punishment, she saw that her sister’s face was already redder than the fireplace in their living room. Her hands were balled at her hips as she began to march toward the younger girl loudly. Julie arm swung around her back to hold the paper out of reach as her sister entered her personal bubble.

“I asked you to find my glasses, not to snoop through my things.”

Julie straightened her torso, raising an eyebrow as she looked at the older girl with shaking shoulders. She knew her sister could knock her flat out in a minute, but she had to speak her mind before it was trampled to the ground. 

“And I asked you to talk to Luke in person,” She brought the paper back out to her chest. “This, this is cowardly Y/N.” 

Her sister was visible vibrating with anger at this point. Y/N let out an anguished grunt, squeezing her fingers against her palm. But within a second, Julie heard the sound of crying come from the other side of the room. She rushed over to her sister’s side, catching her falling shoulders in her arms. She walked the girl over to the bed, sitting next to her on the edge. 

Julie rubbed her hand against Y/N’s knee, soothing her with light singing as she settled her tears. Finally raising her eyes back up to meet Julie’s, Y/N chewed helplessly at her bottom lip. 

“This whole time Jules, this whole time I’ve waited for him to be honest and truthful with me.” She sighed as a hand grazed against her raw cheek. “And he couldn’t even do it to say goodbye. I don’t even know what the point there is in talking to him. I know I’ll never get the truth.”

Julie stayed silent for a moment, listening to her sister’s sharp breaths. Her hand tapped against her skin a few times to gain her attention. Y/N’s bloodshot eyes met hers again.

“I know. I know that it’s been difficult,” Julie said looking right into her eyes. “Luke isn’t an easy person to talk to. But I cannot stand here and let you wallow forever without the possibility of speaking your mind. I know how heavily that weighs on you. Sure, you cannot control what he says, but I feel like you DESERVE to speak your mind to his face and breath easier at night.”

Y/N nodded, but she didn’t speak. What could she possibly say at this point. She knew Julie was right, but her anxiety weighed her body down like a cinderblock sat straight on her chest. The racing thoughts were cut off by her father yelling for Julie from the first floor. 

“It’s not too late for you to come to the show tonight,” Julie reminded her. 

“Maybe,” Y/N replied softly, keeping her eyes toward the window.

She heard the boxspring creak as Julie got up from the bed, and the door swing shut as she walked out of the room before she looked to her right. She couldn’t cry again. There’d been too many tears that night already. Instead, she rolled onto her bed, staring at the ceiling with the note to her chest. 

****

She woke up in a cold sweat. Leaning over to her left she saw that the clock said 8:30 p.m. She was too late. She couldn’t put the note in his pocket before he left, and she couldn’t say the words to his face either. 

He was gone. 

Y/N sighed to herself as she got up out of bed and leaned forward to turn on the lamp. Looking out the window, she stared at the garage with wide eyes. If she couldn’t say goodbye to him in person, she’d at least say it out loud, hoping, praying that maybe he’d hear it out there somewhere. 

She threw on her jean jacket before walking toward the door. Closing it behind her carefully, she raced down the stairs and out the back door. The sound of crickets and nearby sprinklers were the only noise to fill the air as she walked the short distance to the practice space.

As she entered the dingy, dark space she flipped on the lightswitch. As the soft yellow hue filled the room, she brought her hand out to her back pocket. Bringing the now deformed note into her hands, she quickly untangled it. She cleared her throat before beginning to speak. The shake in her throat note waiting long to appear.

“Luke,

The moment I met you, I thought that I’d absolutely hate you. My sister made me sit on the couch as called all three of you to appear. I remember meeting those bright green eyes and knowing exactly what they were capable of. But as the smile grew across your face, I knew I was a wasn’t a match for them.

You could have made it easy for me. Left it as a simply, fleeting crush entirely based on looks. However, you had to go and make me feel your presence. After the performance, Julie expected you all to disappear out of sight for me, but after the last note fell from my sister’s lips....you stayed.

I knew at that moment that we’d have a problem. You had the ability to be there at a moment’s notice. You, being as inquisitive as always, found your way up to my room every night. You, lacking the ability to be subtle, would spend that time drilling me with questions. You forced me to know you.

You were no longer a figment of my sister’s grief, you were a permanent structure in mine.

I didn’t ask you to listen to the lyrics I’d written the last time I had to say goodbye. I didn’t ask you to run to my side before my tears had dried over some stupid test or audition. You brought yourself there every single time.

I cannot believe that you would leave without telling me. I cannot believe that you’d choose to never see me again instead. You’re a coward, Lucas Patterson. A spineless coward.

I’ll never forgive you for making me feel. I’ll never forgive you for making me dream again. I’ll never forgive you for ripping that all away from me at a moment’s notice.

But I’ll never regret loving you.

- Y/N”

The sound of her name on her own tongue felt almost as painful as the knot lodged in her throat to hold back her tears. She refolded the paper, eyes staying forward, set on the darkness that surrounded her. She waited another moment before turning around. 

Her walk back to the house was cut short by a hoarse voice exposing itself to the light.

“Y/N?”

She stopped cold in her tracks, turning around on her tiptoes. There he stood in front of her, swollen and pale as ever. Her anger turned right to worry as she took several steps toward him with wide eyes. She leaned her head to the side, shaking it back and forth.

“What- how are you,” She scrunched her nose in confusion. “How are you here?”

“The Orpheum,” He began, already losing the race with his breath. “Wasn’t our unfinished business. So we came here to wait it out until sunrise. We didn’t want to worry Julie.” 

“Should I even be surprised that you’re side-stepping yet another conversation?” 

Luke bit down on his bottom lip, arm reaching out to touch her for a moment before his brain reminded him that he couldn’t reach her even if he wanted to. She took a step back, crossing her arms at her chest.

“The nerve you have, Luke Patterson,” She rolled her eyes at him. “To not even have the guts to properly say goodbye to Julie. She’s the one who brought back your love for music. She’s the one who put herself on the line for you with out dad, our friends and everyone else. And you repay her by LYING TO HER? I’m not even upset about what you did to me anymore.”

“Y/N,” His voice strained, his eyes boring into her. “I never meant to hurt anyone.”

“Well you did.” 

Luke ran his hands through his hair, sighing. As his head rose back up, he held his stomach in his hand as he made his way toward her. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I’ve never had anyone who’s put me first. I’ve always forced their in front of my own,” He started, a small smile on my face. “What was I supposed to do with a stubbornly perfect girl who forced me to give in?” 

Y/N held her gaze to the sky, tightening her hands around herself. His eyes stayed on her as he took a few small steps forward, standing right in front of her. 

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that I was leaving,” His words bringing her watering eyes back to his face. “I just knew I couldn’t take staring at that exact look in your eyes.” 

He shook his head at her, tears streaming from his face now. “I love you, so much, Y/N. I never want you to hurt because of me. I was selfish and cruel, and I’m so sorry that I didn’t even think of the consequences. Again. I’m an idiot and I’m selfish but I am, so in love with you and I can’t think straight.”

Y/N’s lips parted as she gasped at those last words. Y/N fell back a bit in shock, tripping over her own feet. Luke rushed toward her, arms wrapping around her waist before she could hit the ground. Silence filled her air as she tried to understand what was happening.

Her brought her back up to a standing position, bringing one hand up to her face. His fingers grazed harshly against her cheek as he pulled her into him. He heard her open her mouth to speak, but crashed his lips against hers before she could get a word out. 

The room filled with color as their lips moved together harmoniously. Y/N was the first to pull back first, eyes falling around his features for a moment before her hand reached out to touch his face.

“I feel stronger,” Luke said in a gruff voice. 

“What just happened?” Y/N asked just above a whisper. 

Luke tightened his grip around her hips, pulling her closer to him. He shook his head rapidly before letting out a giggle. 

“I don’t know, but I just want to do that again.

His lips fell onto hers at once, Y/N melting into his touch instantly. They moved in sync for a moment before pulling away. Luke leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. 

Y/N heard grumbling coming from the corner of the room. Turning to her left, she saw Alex and Reggie stumbling toward them. Alex held a pinched expression as he leaned against the piano.

“We don’t have to make out with her too, do we?” 

Y/N leaned against Luke’s chest in a fit of laughter, feeling him join her as his chin rested on her head. 

.

.

.

Tag list: @xplrreylo @lovesanimals , @anythingandeverythingfandom , @crybabyddl  @themaddies-obx , @lukeys-giggle , @bumbleberry-pie @kiss-themoongoodbye  @marinettepotterandplagg , @lolychu , @bathtimejish , @dasexydevitt13 @musicconversedance​ , @txrii  @bestdressedandstressed @daisiesforlacey  @epikskool​  @bookfrog247​ @carleywhittaker​ @princessvader15​ @charliesmountains​ @spooky-season-bitch​  @kcd15​  @meangirlsx​ @itz-jas​ @parkeret​ @writerinlearning​ @calamitykaty​ @whatever-happens-imma-stand-tall​ @teenwaywardasgardian​ @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @thesweetestsinner​  @kinda-really-lost​

#luke patterson x reader #luke patterson #julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp fanfiction #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson fanfiction

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (8b)

word count; 9699

summary; following the events of a call, you pick up some out-of-hours work, and thomas comes along for the journey.

notes; y’all are gonna’ love this one.

warnings; arson, heavy drug use references, mild reference to animal abuse.

The firetrucks ahead of you were loud, sirens and flashing lights, the horn going continually as traffic swerved to the side, and Newt did his best to keep up with them, following in their wake as they opened up the traffic into clear paths to move through. Finally getting your seatbelt done up, you huffed a little, pushing strands of hair back out of your face and behind your ears. Luckily for you all, the call was on the edges of the city, not the centre, and so the roads were widening out and weren’t nearly as crowded as you began to near your scene.

Clouds of smoke, thick and grey, rising up from a small warehouse that was on the edges of a house, and there were crowds gathered around, ones that weren’t unfamiliar to you, some faces you vaguely recognised from seeing them briefly pass by in the crowds when you’d first met Aaron. As the truck came to a stop Newt lifted a hand to rub over his jaw, attention on the crowds that had gathered around.

“One of us can go inside, one of us should stay with the truck.” He twisted to look at you, the firemen already gearing up as Thomas assessed the scene, and Gally walked around to the edge of the building, following the wires linking up to the house. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

“Deal.” You placed your palm out flat, matching his, and banging your fist against it for a second, before laying your hand flat, and cursing as he took on a form of only two fingers sticking out. “You always go rock! Screw you!”

He smirked, shrugging a little as you pouted. “You always go paper; I learned and changed tactic.”

“You suck.” You groaned, climbing into the back to retrieve your go-bag from one of the cupboards, taking a look at it, but realising that you were more likely only going to need a roll of bandages and some gauze, quick sources to send them out to Newt, advice on what they were going to need.

You had your suspicions about what you were seeing, and from the second your partner cracked his door open, you knew your thoughts had been confirmed, because the smell of it was enough to make you cough a little, dry and crisp in the air as you inhaled, and you understood now why the firemen were already wearing their masks, even when just standing outside. Blue flashing lights and muted sirens signalled the arrival of the police, beginning to break up the crowds and start backing people away, and you didn’t envy the job that they had going on.

Hopping down from the back of the truck and making sure to lock it up tight to protect Newt, as he stood carefully in the doorway talking to Minho about the procedures that would be taking place, you wandered away toward where Chuck was standing by Gally’s side at the Squad truck, the two Lieutenant’s trying to develop a plan. As you walked, you couldn't help but look over the scenes, searching for that familiar face, and smiling a little when the boy you’d grown fond of was absent from the scene, encouraging you to believe that he was alright, and escaping this lifestyle.

You bumped your elbow into Chuck’s as you arrived at his side, nose wrinkling a little as the strong smell of marijuana was even stronger from here, and he turned to look at you, smoking a little as he saw you.

“Newt figures it’d be best for one of us to go in, and send out anyone inside for quick medical advice, it’ll speed it up, having a van full of drugs parked up here is pretty risky.” You nodded over your shoulder, and Thomas licked over his lower lip, nodding his head as he tried to clear his thoughts.

“That someone you, then?” The man with dirty-blond hair was staring down at you, and you dipped your head in a nod. “Thomas’ll get you all hooked up, and Squad is going on, Truck is going to start trying to put out some of these flames, and cut the power inside.” He patted Chuck on the shoulder, before the young boy was waving at you, and the Lieutenant you were left with turned to the vehicle he commanded, opening up one of the hatches.

“It’s going to be really smoky in there, so try and keep your eyes on me, okay?” you nodded your head, dropping your back to the ground as you accepted the jacket that Thomas was holding out to you, tugging it over your shoulders, but not bothering to fasten it up just yet. A pair of pants followed, and you pulled them on over the top of your uniform trousers, adjusting them around your waist with the little toggle, and zipping up the heavy-duty jacket to protect yourself, already beginning to feel overheated. “If you lose sight of me, just start flashing this torch on your shoulder, and I’ll come find you, alright? You won’t be able to see much more than a few metres in front of yourself.”

He lifted your hand up, palm closing over the top of your own, and making sure you could feel the large button on the side under the tip of your finger, waiting for you to confirm it, before letting go.

Toeing off your shoes, you left them in a mismatched set by one of the wheels, and taking the boots from Thomas that he offered you. Sitting on the floor to put them on, you adjusted them on your feet, gasping a little at the fit.

“These boots fit my feet!”

He glanced down at you, smirking a little, and nodding his head. “I know, I ordered a pair of boots that were the right size for you a few weeks ago, so that you don’t trip as much wearing the men’s boots. Brenda chewed my ear off about you not having any.” You beamed, lacing them up tightly and tucking the laces inside of the shoes securely, before taking the hands Thomas had outstretched to you, and letting him pull you back up to your feet.

“They’re really comfortable. Much better.”

“I’m glad.” He held out a glove for you, letting you slip your fingers into it and fastening it tightly around your wrist at the toggle, before tucking it under the edge of the sleeve. He repeated it with the other hand, tightening it at your wrist and tucking it into the sleeve, and you were almost entirely suited up. “You’re going to have a lot on your back with the oxygen tank and your bag, you gonna’ be okay?”

You took the tank for him, the weight of it straining your arms little, but you adjusted it over your shoulders, a mask following it, and you gripped it in your hand, using the other to retrieve your medkit. “I’ll be alright, as long as we aren’t in there for too long.” It was a struggle for you to get it over the top of the tank, and Thomas chuckled as he watched you go, before finally, you had it adjusted, and you just hoped there was always going to be somewhere near you if you needed something from inside, instead of having to take it on and off.

“It’s my aim to get us in and out as quickly as possible. There’s going to be a lot of flammables in there, and the police are going to need to go in and gather evidence, Minho’s our resident arson expert, so he’ll stay behind and help check whether it’s an accident or not, but we need to sweep for anyone in there.”

“You think there will be?”

“Honestly?” He looked at the building, placing a helmet onto your head as soon as you had adjusted your mask, and he shook his head. “No, I don’t. Normally when this happens, people are more eager to just run, and try to tend to the wounds themselves. They don’t want to stick around and be arrested, but we have to check, in case they’re unconscious.”

He pulled his mask down over his own head, placing a hand on your upper arm once his helmet was on, a loose hold as he guided you toward the house, his grip slipping down to your forearm instead, and once he was approaching the door, the rest of truck already waiting there, he let you go. They positioned themselves on either side of the door, and you copied those motions, moving to stand next to Fry.

Thomas turned his back to the door, looking over the crew, and giving them all a nod. Raising his foot and kicking hard backwards, the wood around the door splintered, flying open into a horror scene of flames and smoke, which rapidly curled out around him as he paced forwards to avoid the heat.

He had been correct, you could barely see inside of the doorway, grey and orange filling your sights, and you paused, watching as the smoke seemed to swallow up every firefighter that walked inside. Thomas was left standing next to you, seeming to sense your hesitation, and he reached across to turn on the torch on your shoulder, lighting it up as his own followed, before he was giving you a nod, and encouraging you into the house.

You followed closely behind him, the sound of your own breathing within the mask filling your ears, heart racing, and you felt as though you were in some kind of sci-fi movie, stepping into an alternate reality as only three feet into the smoke, the light from the outside world was blocked out, darkness taking over, only lit up by the torches. It took you a moment to adjust, admiring how the rest of the Squad team managed to jump straight into action, adjusting to it without restraint.

Much before this house, you had never been inside of a burning building before, the teams you’d worked with never seemed to flow this well, or perhaps they did and you’d just never stuck around long enough to notice, but with your house and crew, it felt like a well-oiled machine, everyone having their place to make things work, and you swelled with pride and being an integral part of the functioning.

You were simply left to follow Thomas around, pausing each time he stopped to speak into the radio on his shoulder as he reported to the other teams, and you bumped into him every time he came to a sudden stop. There was evidence that this room had only recently been in use; phones left behind, mugs of tea and the remnants of charred papers that had been left out.

Melted plastic, warped furniture and charred walls, the fire glowing brightly, even through the clouds of smoke. Glass shattered at the windows around you as the team outside broke them to begin spraying water inside, attempting to cool down the heat inside, and you were sure you’d walked several laps of the downstairs as it finally came up clear. Your eyes were just beginning to adjust, to make out more than just shapes, but to actually come into focus, blurry and controlled mess clearing up to offer you a picture of the room.

Thomas paused, talking into the radio as he told his team to begin backing out, promising to do the final sweep, and you watch the various other dull lights in the room begin to flicker away as they filtered out of the building around you. Glancing around, you scuffled your toes against the floor, kicking at a piece of rubble, and you paused as you watched some of the dust a little further up move.

You blinked, staring at pieces of fallen scrap metal around a table, trying to focus back on it, and there was no movement this time. You were almost ready to give up, turning your head away, before there was a brief hint of movement once again, and you sighed. Thomas was still standing still, his back to you, and you took only a few steps away from him, trying to navigate through the flames to get a clearer look at the ash and dust clouds that were beginning to settle.

The closer you got, the more evident it became, the sound of scuffling and whimpering making you pick up your speed, concern racing through you. It went silent, the flames curling up around you, and you couldn't find the source of the noise again, finding the spot that you swore you’d seen movement going completely empty. Sighing, and shaking yourself down, the ache in your shoulders was becoming unbearable, and you rolled your head from side to side, standing back up from where you were crouched down.

Rubbing a hand at your shoulder to try and loosen it, it did little to help when you had several straps of the bag blocking your movements, and you looked back to where you had been. The spot was empty, and you swallowed thickly, knowing that with all the walking in circles you’d corn, you had no idea which way was left and which was right, or which was to go to get back out, and you couldn't see Thomas’ light anywhere in the room.

You stood back up, walking to where you’d been, and trying to get a sense of any direction he might’ve taken. Wandering forward a few feet from where you were, rows of tables lined with trays of what had once been marijuana plants was evident on either side of you, and there were over ten different ways he could have gone on his final search.

You could try calling for him, but with the noise in the room, you doubted he’d hear you, and it probably wasn’t the best bet to wander off to find him. Instead, you backed up, retracing your steps back to where you had once been, chastising yourself for having been reckless. Reaching up for the torch on your shoulder, you tried to stand as far from the flames around you as possible, flashing it steadily and continually, the heavy button making your finger cramp up after a few minutes.

You sighed, letting go of the torch and flexing your fingers for a minute, curling them and uncurling them from a fist as you tried to ease the aching, and before you could reach for it again, panic beginning to bubble up, there was a figure breaking through the smoke.

“Where the hell did you go?” His hands found your upper arms, twisting you side to side as he checked you over, and you shrugged a little in his touch, enough relief upon seeing him to make your knees buckle a little as your anxiety began to settle, and you could hear the disappointment laced in his tone. “I told you to stick with me, this is a burning building, you can’t just wander off-”

“I’m sorry.” His words died out, fading out on a sigh as his shoulders slumped, his touch falling away from your arms. “I thought I saw movement, I could have sworn that I did, but there was nothing there. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I was just worried. I didn't want you to get hurt, alright?” you nodded, choking back the lump of emotions in your throat, and he glanced over your shoulder. “Where did you see movement?”

You twisted, pointing to the collapsed pile of metal plating and desks. “It was nothing, I checked it out, I couldn't see much.”

“Follow the pathway, alright? Straight ahead, Brenda will come and meet you, alright?” He squeezed at your shoulder, hand sliding down to find your hand, and he squeezed it again, tugging you a little closer. “Just walk straight ahead, and I’ll double-check for you, alright? Straight ahead until you see Bren, you go this.”

You squeezed his hand back, both in acknowledgement and in thanks, knowing he was doing this just to ease your concern, and then, he was brushing past you, and you were following his guidance, cautious steps in a straight line forwards, searching for Brenda.

Her figure made itself known, the smoke thinning near the doorway as the flames surrounding the entrance were being extinguished by the firefighters outside, and she reached a hand out to you. Slipping your gloved hand into hers, a little sigh of relief left you, your entire body aching from stress, and the weight of the equipment you were carrying. As soon as you cleared the wall of smoke, stepping out into bright and burning daylight, you hissed a little as your eyes adjusted, having acclimated to just how dark it had gotten inside of the burning shed.

You stumbled down the steps, gasping a little as you finally reached the bottom, bracing your hands on your knees. Dropping your helmet to the ground, it rolled away a little bit, and your skin felt sticky with sweat, hating how overheated you always felt in the suits, only after you ever left the building. An unusual phenomenon, but it was starting to form a pattern. As it clattered away across the ground, you lifted your helmet up and off of your face, flushed cheeks cooling as soon as the wind swept over them, and the acrid smell of burning and charred wood met your nose.

“You gotta’ work out more.”

“I carry a ten-pound bag and push a stretcher, I’m perfectly in shape for my job.” You muttered, Brenda laughing a little as she patted at your shoulder, before letting you stand up straight. She helped to lift the oxygen tank down from your shoulders, and as the weight slipped away, you swayed a little, catching your balance and sighing out in relief. Your med-kit fell to the floor, and you rubbed a hand at each shoulder to ease tense muscles, already planning the hot bath with muscle soak powder that you’d be taking as soon as you got home.

As you picked it back up, stepping away from the building, you shucked off the oversized jacket you wore too, padding over to where Brenda was unpacking your equipment into the truck, your sock-clad feet pressing to the concrete for a second as you handed over your boots, before pushing your toes back into your sneakers and flexing them a little. Leaning on the side of the truck, you glanced over at the doorway, worrying your lip a little as you waited to see Thomas emerging. It was a few seconds longer, and you filled the time with tying your laces, before he was finally revealing himself to your view.

There was nobody with him, not that you could see, and yet as the floorboards creaked under his weight, you could make out the squirming package in his arms, a charred blanket wrapped around whatever it is, and your breathing seemed to stop entirely. Your feet were moving underneath you as you made your way over to him, his feet carrying him to a stop before you, and you hesitated for only a second as your hands hovered over the smoking fabric, before you were pinching the edge of it, and peeling it back.

You were stuck between relieved and pitying at the little face staring back at you. The immense fear that it had been a baby, was something that had made your entire body stiffen and blood run cold, and you relaxed a little as you looked down at the bundle, but it didn't make you feel any less upset about what you saw. Burned and raw flesh in a few patches, golden fur stained with ash and black soot, and scared eyes as the animal cowered in Thomas’ hold, shaking violently, and your jaw dropped.

You couldn't see Thomas’ face very clearly as you looked up to him, more your own reflection in the ash stained glass of his mask, and you reached up, taking his helmet from his head to free matted brown strands, hands on each side of his face to peel the mask away to follow, dropping both items down to the pavement, and his eyes were just as wide as your own as he stared back, in total shock.

“You were right. There was someone else in there.”

“Who would leave a puppy in there? What kind of monster would do that, Thomas?” Your voice cracked a little as you spoke, reaching a hand out slowly to the animal to let it sniff your hand, and it trembled for a second, face turned away, before giving in. You expected a nip, or a growl, or simply to be ignored, but as you held your hand out for the dog, it leaned in, a dry nose pressing to your hand as you were sniffed, before a dry and rough tongue was following in a weak lick, and you gasped a little as it rubbed the edge of an unharmed face over your fingers. “Oh, you’re just a sweetie, aren’t you?”

“It has some burns and some scratches, but I think it’ll be alright.”

His tone was hopeful, and you nodded your head, trying your best to believe it. “Bring it over to the ambulance, I’ll see what I can do with what we have.” He only nodded, following after you in a slow walk to the back of the truck. The crowd had been cleared, the police keeping the few nosey stranglers back, but Newt was packing away medical equipment as you opened the door.

His eyes went wide, jaw dropping a little as he took in the armful that Thomas was holding, now squirming a little more, and after a moment to process it, his face little up like sunshine. “Is that a puppy?”

“Yes! Someone left it in there, can you believe that?” Newt scowled at the mere idea, his eyes flicking up to glare at the house, before he was hopping down from the ambulance to sit on the edge, and holding his arms out for the bundle. The animal whimpered a little as he was handed from Thomas to Newt, before it was nosing at the spot underneath Newt’s jaw, learning his scent as well, and the blond chuckled, becoming lost in the interactions with the dog. Turning to face Thomas, he had a hint of a smile on his lips as he watched the scene. “You have water bottles in the truck, right?”

“A couple. You want one?”

“Yeah, I can try and get some water into this little guy, and put some cream on those burns, but he’s going to need a vet.” You turned to look at the animal, reaching out to scratch lightly on the top of its head, and it let out a strained yip at the affections, tail wagging slightly. “I’ll take him. By the time we get back, our shift will have finished, and I’ll find a vet still open.”

“Can I come with you?”

Your eyes snapped back to him, brows raising a little bit, and you found yourself at a loss for words. “To the, uh, vets?” He only nodded, and you swallowed thickly, processing the idea, before shrugging. You were certain that you were on better terms with Thomas now, it had been months since you’d last had a real argument, save the bickering over her got the last biscuit or the best seat on the couch every now and then, and you were starting to get along well. It couldn't be that bad, right? “Sure, yeah. That’d be really nice, actually.”

“Yeah?” He raised a brow.

“Some company, I mean. So I’m not alone, I’d like your company. I mean, anyone’s company would be nice, but yours especially.” He grinned, more like a toothy smirk, and you flushed with what from head to toe. “Oh, fuck off, just go and get the water.”

The look on his face didn’t fade, chuckling a little as he stepped back. “You got it, sweetheart, I’ll be right back.”

You scoffed at the pet name, knowing that he was just teasing you further for falling over your words, and you spun on your heel to face Newt again, his eyes already fixed on you, and you glared. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“But you were going to.” You mumbled, hearing him cackle a laugh as well, and you clambered past him into the ambulance to find something you could use as a bowl to put some water in. Newt got out, moving to sit on the concrete instead as you search through the containers, the scuffing of boots on the floor signalling that Thomas had returned, and you didn’t bother to look, unscrewing the cap of an unopened jar, and decided that it was deep enough to form a bowl.

You handed it out, the boys fawning over the animal as they filled the tub with water and it dove in eagerly. You searched for your bag, finding the cream, and trying to treat the wounds as best you could without causing it any further pain, before the team was beginning to filter over. Once the job was done, as each person progressively checked off their duties, you were joined, until the entire team was gathered around the puppy, who seemed to be soaking up the attention as it received pets and head scratches, cooing and aww-ing from all of them, until you were surrounded, and there was a due time to start getting the engines back.

You had to say goodbye to the pet temporarily, knowing that it would need to ride back in a firetruck, as none of the firemen were allergic, but it would be unhygienic and unprofessional to have it ride in the ambulance with you.

Your partner spent the ride back smirking, not bothering to say anything but glancing at you every so often for the interaction you’d had, prodding you a little bit with subtle questions about which vet you would go to, and what happened inside of the building, and whether you were going to keep the dog or if Thomas would, all of which you promptly ignored.

The trucks were already back, and a group of the firefighters were out in the main foyer playing with the dog when you pulled up, watching as they backed out of the space for the ambulance to reverse into. Some were in their casual-wear, some had yet to get changed, and yet all of them were full of a renewed glee at the idea of seeing the dog, and you almost felt bad for bringing it to an end.

You let them have a little longer, a symphony of different names flying around in their air as everybody seemed to have an opinion, and you made your way to the changing rooms. Grabbing your hoodie, you swapped out your shirt, unbuttoning it slowly and slipping it down your arms before slipping the baggy material of your hoodie over your head. Your trousers followed, folded neatly on the smooth and smart material to take home, resting on the bench, before kicking off your sneakers and sitting down long enough to tug the cold and stiff denim of your jeans up your legs.

Just as you were buttoning them back up, the door was slamming open, and you jumped a little as a bundle of fur came zooming in ahead of the body to follow, like an entirely new puppy as he had some water in his system, and some leftover meat from the sandwiches that Frypan had been making earlier in the day.

You cursed a little at the shock, a hand resting over your heart, and you sighed as it leapt underneath your palm. Shifting down to the button on your jeans after only a second, and fastening it up, a taller figure leaning against the lockers.

“Damn, did I miss the cute panties again?”

“Oh, shut it, Thomas.” You scowled, and he grinned a little as you avoided his eye, grabbing your bag and packing your work clothes into it, before sitting down to put your shoes back on, and you finally looked back up at him. He had already changed, it seemed, his casual clothes adorning his figure rather than the usual ‘Firehouse 21’ tee, and he’d swapped the heavy-duty pants and suspenders for a pair of skinny khakis. “What’s with the rope?”

He came to sit at the other end of the bench, lifting the aforementioned bundle down from his shoulder, and placing it before you. “This dog is a little erratic, I figured we’d need a little harness for actually getting it to the vets.”

You cocked a brow, smirking a little bit as you finished lacing your shoes, and letting a leg sit on either side as you faced him. “Oh, and you think you can make a whole harness and lead out of a piece of rope?”

“I don’t think I can, I know I can.” He seemed to have taken your challenge, his eyebrows furrowing and eyes squinting a little as he laid out the rope before himself, beginning to shift it and twist it into different sections. You didn’t see anything within it, random knots and a tangled mess seeming to come together, and he worked on it for a few minutes, determination filling him, and your smugness only grew as you prepared for the ‘I told you so’ that you’d be delivering.

That moment never came, however, because as he finished up, laying what looked like a bundle of knots and twists to you, it began to take shape, space for four little legs to slip through, a band running down it’s back and a rope that could be held onto connected at one end to sit over shoulder blades, and your jaw dropped.

“I told you so.” The words were stolen from you, and you glowered a little, a finger coming up to rest under your chin, pressing your lips back closed as he smirked. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. I’m a firehouse lieutenant, it’s my job to be good with knots.” He licked over his lips, your eyes fixed on his as a twinkle flashed through them. “I’m great at tying things up.”

He winked, and you scoffed again, turning away from him and taking the rope from his hands as you moved to find the puppy, he was biting at one of the shoer curtains and pulling it up and down the railing. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you today. You’re so cheeky, cut it out, I’m not used to it.”

Your words were thrown over your shoulder as you made your way over to the dog, trying to navigate little paws through the holes as it squirmed, and his laugh bounced from all of the walls. “Can’t help it, I think it’s kinda’ funny when you blush, and it’s definitely cute. To think, we spent all that time arguing, and all I had to do get you to shut up with your witty comment and stinging insults was flirt with you and throw in a few dirty jokes.”

“You’re the absolute worst.” You grumbled, and he grinned a little more, taking the rope from your hands and wrapping it around his own as the dog pulled on the harness, eager for movement once again. That only seemed to further his amusement, and you grabbed your bag, reaching into the side pocket for your keys, only to remember that you’d been dropped off this morning, and so you lifted the bag onto your shoulder instead. “We’re taking your car.”

“But my seats are leather.” His words were whiny, and you chuckled, holding open the door for them both. Your little group moved through the firehouse, greeting the staff of the other teams that had taken over, trying to be polite, a subtle nod or quiet ‘hello’ as you passed through, before he was leading you over to his car, and holding open the passenger seat door for you. Dropping your bag down on the back seat, you settled in, a soft noise leaving you as the puppy clambered up into your lap. “You better hold onto that dog, because if my seats get all shredded up, I’ll be gutted.”

“Yeah, yeah; fancy leather seats.” You mocked, a grin on your face, and he scowled falsely, slamming the door shut a little as you chuckled as he flipped you off while rounding the car, biting on the inside of his cheek to contain his amusement. Settling in himself, you strapped yourself in, making sure that you adjusted the safety-belt over the dog in your lap too, who had managed to sit down, tail wagging as it panted happily, and you avoided all the sore spots still littering its skin. “You want me to google a vet? I don’t really know anywhere around here like that, but I can search for one?”

“There’s one not far from where I live, so we can head there.”

He started up the engine, hand on the gearstick as he reversed out of the spot and edges slowly towards the road as the car warmed up, and you considered the matter. “We should find one near my place, so you don’t have to drive all the way across town to drop me off afterwards.”

“I don’t mind.” His eyes flicked up to the mirrors, checking everything he was seeing as he left the parking lot and joined the traffic on the road, and you sighed, twisting to face him a little more.

“Yeah, but, it would waste time in your evening, and your fuel, and-”

“I don’t mind.” He turned to look at you, eyes meeting yours for a split second, whiskey-coloured eyes showing only honesty, replacing the cheeky look he’d held moments prior. You sighed, watching him for a moment longer, and he turned back to the road, your eyes sweeping along the defined line of his jaw, the upturned tip of his nose form the side, and the way his eyes flickered over the road before him as he navigated traffic. “Besides, if we go to the veterinarian near me, I can take him for check-ups.”

“They’ll probably have to stay overnight, they’ll want to do tests and heal them up.” You cupped the furry little face in your hands, the thumping of his tail as he wagged picking up again immediately. “Won’t they, huh, cutie? We gotta’ get you all fixed up!”

Thomas chuckled, glancing at the two of you as you kissed its little head, and you were weaving through roads you didn’t recognise, a side of the city you’d never ventured to before, but you weren’t all that surprised by it, because you’d barely adventured anywhere. Now you’d decided to stick around for a while, you should probably learn a little more about where you were living.

“I’ve never been here before.” You looked out of the window, the light in the sky beginning to fade into dusk. “This neighbourhood, I mean. Well, this side of the city, really.”

“You don’t get out much, huh?”

“I moved around a lot, didn’t really seem like it was worth learning an area when I didn’t know how long I was going to stay.” Silence formed between you for a while, the scenery flashing by, streetlights slowly beginning to turn on and warm up, and it wasn’t until the car was pulling to a halt in front of a small veterinary surgery that only had a few people milling around behind the glass windows, quiet and calm. Thomas turned to you upon unclipping his seatbelt, and the silence carried for another second or two, but now with more weight on, as you waited for him to speak.

“I’d be happy to show you around, sometime. If you choose to stick around with us. I can show you some of my favourite places, and I just know Newt would want to tag along and show off his hang-outs too.”

You smiled, watching as he shrugged, getting out of the car and walking around to open your door for you. Standing up, he took the lead, the bouncing puppy sniffing the ground curiously. “I’d like that, maybe I’ll take you up on that offer sometime.”

“I hope you do.” He locked the car, the two of you walking quietly, side by side, up the ramp and through the door, the ball overhead jingling a little as you entered.

There was a blonde behind the desk, curly hair and dark painted lips as she looked up, eyes flicking over the pair of you, before her eyes were moving down to the dog; a single, well-manicured brow lifting in questioning.

You looked between her and the dog as you approached, wondering what brought on the look that was on her face, before realising that you’d grown so accustomed to the state of the dog that the initial shock had worn off, and you gasped a little as you approached the desk, her hand closing over the phone, a scowl forming on her features.

“We didn’t do that to the dog!”

She paused, and Thomas turned to look at you, confusion portrayed on his face, before he was reading the room, his eyes going wide. Neither of you was wearing your official uniforms, you were just a pair of strangers with a dog on a rope, covered in burns and cuts. He panicked, patting down his pockets as she lifted up the phone to her ear, panicking to find his wallet as he flipped it open to show the ID inside.

She took the leather from him, peering it at carefully, a long and tense second that seemed to drag on, your breath held, before her stern expression seemed to relax a little, a softer look on her face as she handed it back, placing the phone down and crossing her arms against the desktop before you both.

“We found this little guy in a house fire about two hours ago, we just finished our shift.”

“Uh-huh.” She squinted, before she was turning to the computer, long and perfectly maintained nails typing on the keyboard as she created a file for the little creature. “Name?”

“Uh, well, we haven’t given it one.” Thomas stuttered, and she smirked a little, turning to look at you both a little clearer.

“I meant your name, for the file.”

He blushed, red twinging his cheeks as his jaw snapped shut, and you tried to contain your laugh. “His name is Thomas Stephens. With a ‘P-H’, not a ‘V’.” She nodded her head, and Thomas nudged you with his elbow gently, a quiet thanks as his cheeks remained heated. He cleared his throat, choking back the lump in his throat.

“Her name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” She paused for only a second, before she was typing that too, and you turned to look at him, one of his shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. “We should both be on file, to look after the little guy. He’s our responsibility now.”

“And you said that you found him in a house fire today?”

You snapped away from Thomas, looking back to the blonde receptionist, who was still typing at her computer as she filled in details, waiting for you to continue. “Oh, yes! Not too bad, a little singed around the edges but that’s all. First-degree skin wounds, nothing deep into muscle tissue, except for a few second-degrees. It was severely dehydrated and a little woozy from the heat, but we gave ‘em some water and got some food in ‘em, and the pup got its energy back.” She stopped her typing, turning to stare at you. “No disorientation or dizziness that I can tell, so I don’t think there’s lasting brain trauma, but the woofing is a little raspy, probably some internal burning from smoke inhalation.”

“I take it you’re the paramedic, then?” It was your turn to be slightly embarrassed now, Thomas staring at you wide-eyed for your spiel, and she was watching you intently, and you only nodded your head in confirmation. “I’m impressed. I’ll let the doc’ know it all. How about you hand me over the dog, I’ll take him into the back, and you two can wait out here. I’ll be back out in a few minutes, alright?”

You were almost reluctant to hand him over, but Thomas gave her the makeshift leash, and she walked him away, the two of you taking a seat on the cushioned chairs in the waiting room, posters up around on the walls to show information and promotions on pet-care.

Sinking down next to him, you let out a sigh, a little achy all over from the stress of the day, and you were looking forward to simply relaxing. Your head rolled to the side, to find Thomas picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of his hoodie, seeming to sense your lingering gaze, his head twisting to catch your eye. He returned the gaze, curiosity unspoken between you both as he waited for you to speak, and it took you a moment to form words.

“What are we gonna’ do with it, Thomas?”

“The dog?” He mumbled dumbly, and you only nodded your head. “I’m sure they know a selection of excellent shelters who would be able to find it a good home and look after it once we sign it over, and it’ll find a great home.” You sighed, not too sure why you were so disappointed by the answer, your sights turning forwards to look over the posters on the walls once again.

A quiet settled over you both, nothing tense or uncomfortable, but simply companionable, and your mind drifted to the excited little animal that was taking over your mind, closed behind a door for its initial examination.

“The team seemed to really like the dog.” You jumped a little at his sudden voice, twisting a little to face him again, hope fluttering through your nerves. “Maybe they’d like a house dog?”

“Really?” You couldn't help the smile that broke out on your features, and he chuckled a little, sights sweeping over your face, before his head was ducking a little, and he grinned, warm cheeks when he lifted his head again.

“Yeah, nobody has an allergy, the kids that visit would love it, and I know Vince would be on board, he’s always talked about a house dog.” He dared to lift a hand, pausing for a second, and you glanced down, his hand settling over yours on the arm of the chair to squeeze lightly. “Plus, you looked so down when you thought you didn’t get to keep him. I didn’t like that.”

You paused, processing his words, and nothing else needed to be said, his attention moving to the tiles in front of his feet as his legs stretched out, getting comfortable for the wait. As you sat here, you couldn't help but be thankful that he was here with you, because this was an experience you wouldn't want to be going through alone, and somehow, it felt right to be here with him of all people.  “Thank you, Thomas.”

“It’s not definite, yet, I’d still have to talk to everyone at the house and to Vince, and start a pool of funds, b-”

“No, not for the dog.” His jaw snapped shut, confusion on slightly pouted lips once again as he tried to process his thoughts. “Today, you believed me. There was nothing to suggest there was anyone there, and you put yourself in danger just to check for me.”

“You were right last time, with the woman in the house, trapped under the rubble? The kid who fell? You’ve been right about these things before.”

You shook your head. “This is different. You stayed behind because I insisted on it, you trusted me, you didn’t have to, but you did. Thank you for trusting me, Thomas.”

He only nodded, swallowing thickly, and you turned your hand underneath his, parting your fingers a little. His lips turned up at the edges, the tips of his fingers smoothing over your palm as they straightened out, before his fingers were weaving loosely through your own. “You can call me Tommy, y’know.”

“Huh?”

“You always call me Thomas.” His fingers tightened a little, and you crooked your own to wrap around his hand lightly. “Everyone calls me Tommy. You can too, if you want.”

“Okay.” He hummed, fingers twitching with your own, before he was lifting your hand enough to let his fingers weave with your own entirely, to sit connected on the chair between you both, and you held onto him equally as tightly. “Tommy?”

“Yeah?” There was a slightly higher pitch to his voice, a sweet look on his face at the sound of you using his nickname, and your chest flushed with heat at the idea you’d been able to bring him such a little joy so effortlessly.

“Thanks for being here with me.”

“My pleasure.” You only nodded, gaze remaining connected with his as his smile became fully formed, flashes of white teeth as it became a beam, and you couldn't help but return it. You jumped at the clearing of a throat, eyes closing as you suppressed the urge to curse in shock, having had enough of jump-scares and fear for today.

“Does one of you want to come in with me?” Both your and Thomas’ attention moved to her, and she was standing before you both, hands crossed behind her back as her eyes flicked between you. “We’re going to keep him in overnight, doc’ wants to put him under some anaesthesia so we can properly treat the wounds that are a little more severe and so some stitches, so one of you can go and keep him calm as he goes under. I need one of you to stay here and fill out some forms.”

You turned to look at Thomas, questioning silently, and he gave a smile, squeezing your hand tightly, before letting it go so your fingers could slip free. “You go ahead, I’ll fill out the forms, and I’ll wait right here.”

“You sure?”

“Totally. Go make sure our little puppy goes to sleep comfortably.” You nodded, standing up to follow the girl, and seeking a reassuring glance from Thomas over your shoulder, before you were disappearing around the corner and into an examination room, and he was cut from your views.

The dog was laying across the table, looking calmer now, but he perked up considerably upon seeing you. There was a set of weighing scales out, and a needle filled with a dose already, alongside a clipboard and a pen on a sheet that was half filled out.

The doctor was wearing a set of plastic gloves, slipping one from his wrist as he shook your hand, giving you his name, but you knew your mind was spinning far too much right now to remember it. You moved forward, scratching at the dog's ears to soothe it, it’s head tipping into your hands as it woofed happily, tail thumping against the table.

“What I’m going to do is use a general anaesthetic to put him under, so that I can get these stitches in and disinfect these wounds without him feeling it. I’ve weighed him, and surprisingly for the dogs I’ve seen come from these backgrounds, he’s actually on his target weight.” You nodded, trying to retain the information, and knowing that it was all good news. “I also want to take some blood samples, just to get an idea of what we have going on, since there’s no history, but he seems better than just ‘okay’ to me. We’ll keep him overnight for observations, as I’m sure my nurse has told you.”

“She did.”

“Have you decided what you want to do with him?” You scratched lightly at his hair, heart clenching a little at the whimper he let out as a needle slipped into his skin, but he was relaxing only a second later, the metal slipping free of his flesh, and his eyes growing heavy, ready to knock him out, for the time being, so he could heal properly.

“We’re kinda’ thinking we might have him as a house dog at the fire station.”

“I like that idea, a lot. It’s always motivational. This little guy has a lot of personality; it’ll be good for him to have so much attention, and so many people around him, constantly.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “He is definitely spirited, that's for sure. Only an hour after he’d left the building, he was already getting his energy back at the station. Some water and a snack, and he was bursting at the seams to run.”

“I can tell, he gave me a real struggle to settle him down.” He was growing tired, breathing growing soft and deeper as he calmed a little, his racing heart steadying out, and you hoped that some good sleep was exactly what he needed to heal. “I'll give you a list of his medicines and puppy suitable foods to help him develop, and when you come back for him, I’ll have a schedule made for the house. It can be hard to keep a dog within healthy weight and fitness boundaries with different teams who don’t get to communicate, so I’ll make a rota.”

“That’s great, thank you.”

“You are truly welcome. I’m going to have to shave him in some patches, but it should grow back in a month or so.” You nodded, a few more minutes passing, and you realised that there was nothing else to be added, the dog having drifted off, and the vet was simply giving you a few more minutes to accept it all. “When you’re ready, you can sign off at the desk, and we’ll give you a call in a day or two when he’s ready for collection.”

You nodded, taking a few more seconds yourself brushing your fingers over soft fur, before backing away, tearing your eyes from the dog you’d grown such a sudden attachment to, before you were opening the door, and closing it again.

As you made your way along the corridor, Thomas was standing at the desk, frowning at various paperwork that he was filling out, signing his signature at various spots and filling out any details that were needed. Taking up space by his side, his attention moved to you for just a moment, a soft smile directed your way, before he was moving back to the paperwork, and you leant on the edge of the desk, watching the pen move as he filled it out.

“Have you got a name?”

“I thought we already gave you our names?” Thomas echoed, an adorable confusion to his voice, and the nurse smirked a little.

“I’m talking about the dog.” She clarified, and he blushed a deep red once again, scowling as he went back to the paperwork, a mumble of ‘of course you are’ under his breath, and you bit back your laughter. “I’ll give you a moment to think about it, I’ll go and photocopy your forms.”

She took the paperwork from him as he finished it, and he turned to face you, embarrassment dying down. “How about ‘Champ’?” Your face screwed up at the idea, knowing it was a common name and not something that suited his personality at all, and Thomas seemed to agree, his own face mirroring yours as he thought on it longer. “How about ‘Dexter’?”

“That seems so aggressive. He’s a sweetie, he’s just excited.” He nodded, silence falling between you both again. “What do you think about ‘Scooter’?”

“It’s certainly interesting.” He hummed, and your head tipped to the side, trying to explain why the name had come to you;

“I don’t know, it just felt right. It feels like an energetic but fun name, and that's what he feels like.” Thomas clicked the pen shut, the woman walking back into the room, a brown envelope with the word ‘dog forms’ written across the front sliding to sit on the glass before you both.

“Have we chosen a name, yet?”

She sat down in her seat, bringing the computer back to life and typing in her password to complete the registration. “I think we just settled on ‘Scooter’.”

“We did?” You echoed a little, staring up at Thomas, who only nodded to the blonde nurse, who smiled to herself as she completed the forms. Lifting the card reader up onto the top of the desk, the small registration fee and covering of the original medicines and treatments were completed, and you promised to forward half of the costs to Thomas as soon as you could while he punched his PIN into the device.

She finished it all up, stapling the bundle of receipts to the copy of the forms, and just like that, you were stepping back out into the cold air, minus a dog, but plus a pet.

Sinking down into the passenger seat beside Thomas, he started up the car, and as he pulled out of the parking lot, you couldn't help but notice the darkness that had taken over. What had been a pastel sky when you’d entered the establishment was now deep tones of blue fading into black, the moon string in the sky to be accompanied by an array of twinkling stars.

You offered him your address, the city melting away beside you as the radio played, idle chatter filling the silence between you both on the drive. He would often pause the conversation to point out somewhere he liked; a restaurant, an activity, a shop or simply a building with a memory for him, all following with a list of reasons why he thought you should visit it someday, some even coming with a promise to show it to you himself.

When you finally pulled up in front of your building, Thomas peered up at it, stepping out of the car as you did, and rounding to the backseat to grab your back for you as the car sat on the curb, engine still running to keep warm. “This is me, that third window up on the left.” You pointed up to it, the glass dark in an apartment with all of the lights off, the living room window that looked out onto the street would soon be flooded with lights, only minutes away from finally getting to relax and unwind from a busy day. “Thanks for driving me home, and coming out with me. It was nice to have company.”

“I had fun, I wanted to come. It was really no trouble.” He rocked on the balls of his feet, hands shoved into his pockets, and you weren’t sure what else to say to fill the silence as he simply nodded to your words, hands pushed into his pockets. “I’ll see you soon, on our next shift?”

You could only hum your agreement, mind shifting to remember when it was that you were due on shift again, your mind coming up blank with your exhaustion. You waited longer, his eyes fixed on you, intently, but you couldn't seem to decipher what was laying within them, and after a while you gave up trying to. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

“Goodnight.” He smiles, shoulders slumping a little, and you headed back up towards the door of the main building, pulling your bag around from your side to open the pocket on the front, and fish out the keys, pausing at the top stop as you found them, and tried to find the one for the main building.

Shoes shuffled against the concrete behind you, up the steps, and you turned to face Thomas, unsure of what to say to question him, but something to you he had his own agenda, and not to rush him. He waited for a second longer, the correct key inched between two fingers now as the rest jingled where they hung, and your eyes remained locked with his as you waited.

A hand came up to rest over your cheek, a soft smile on his face as he took a shaky inhale, before your head was being tipped to the side a little. Hot breath washed over your skin, his body stepping in close enough that his own heat was enough to warm you. The tip of his nose dragged over your cheek, enough to make your breath hitch, before soft lips were pressing to your skin. A sweet kiss that a shy blush flood your features, his lips lingering a second longer than you expected, before was pulling back, an equal blush visible on his face, but a bashful expression none the less as he pulled away.

You felt cold as he stepped back, the hand from your waist falling away and you weren’t sure when it had even landed there, as the hand on your other cheek dropped away too, and he licked over his lower lip, nibbling on it to contain the sunny expression threatening to take over as he backed down the steps.

“Now it's a good night. I’ll be seeing you.” He gave a little wave, before he was jogging back to his car, and you watched him go, a little shocked and a little confused, heart racing in your chest as you opened the door to the main building and stepped inside, hearing his engine rev as he pulled away.

It was all too much to handle at the moment, a hot bath and some emotional unwinding from the chaotic day that it had been much needed before you could even think about beginning to unpick whatever it was that was going on now. Kicking off your shoes the second the door was open, the only decision you wanted to make right now was whether you wanted food or your pyjamas first.

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