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theostrophywife · 6 months

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kiss with a fist | chapter nine.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: only love can hurt like this - paloma faith.

author's note: i'm truly sorry for this chapter. that's all.

The following week was the busiest you’ve ever been since term started. During the first two days alone, you had an exam in Alchemy, an essay in History of Magic, and a presentation for Charms. Combined with your prefect duties and the array of clubs and organizations you were involved in, you felt utterly drained by the time Wednesday finally rolled around.

You slumped into your usual spot at the Great Hall and muttered a greeting to the entire table.

“Merlin’s beard, you look more ghostly than Peeves,” said Mattheo. You glared at him in response, but opted to stay silent as you shoveled spoonfuls of mashed potato and gravy into your mouth. “Not even an insult, Y/N? Now I’m officially worried.”

“I’m exhausted,” you grunted. “I can’t even spare a single breath on how stupid your hair looks today, Riddle.”

Mattheo grinned. “And she’s back.”

You glanced around the table, not even realizing that you were searching for Theo until your gaze landed on his empty seat. You hadn’t seen him since the Hogsmeade trip, but you assumed it was because you’d skipped most meals to study at the library instead.

“Where’s Theo?”

Draco shrugged. “We thought he’d be with you.”

“I haven’t seen him all week.”

“Come to think of it, neither have I,” added Blaise. “Berkshire?”

Enzo looked up from his muffin. “I’ve only seen him in class. I figured he was studying with you, Y/N.”

“He’s probably just out for a smoke,” Pansy suggested.

It made sense. Theo did have a weakness for the little cancer sticks. You didn’t think much of it at the time, but when the week winded down to a halt on Friday morning and you still hadn’t caught a glimpse of Theo, you were beginning to think that something else was going on with him. He hadn’t accompanied you to feed Henry either, which you found extremely strange.

Ever since you first introduced him to the baby thestral, Theo never missed your visits to the Forbidden Forest. When you asked the boys, they said that while he did seem more moody and distant than usual, Theo still showed up to classes and quidditch practice. The only time he was noticeably absent was during meals at the Great Hall, which he obviously knew you would be present at. It might’ve been paranoia creeping in, but you were beginning to think that Theo was purposely avoiding you.

Fortunately, you had Potions with him that afternoon which would either confirm or disprove your suspicions. When you walked into the classroom, you did so with your head held high despite the obvious lingering discomfort from the slug club dinner. Professor Slughorn bowed his head as you took your seat, but you were too busy worrying about Theo to care. He was nowhere to be found.

You and Draco exchanged worried glances until Theo came bustling through the door exactly a minute before class started. He said nothing as he passed the aisle, skipping the table you usually shared to sit next to Malfoy. The blonde seemed surprised by this and shot you a questioning look.

Well, that all but confirmed it. Theo was definitely avoiding you.

You barely paid attention to the lesson as you racked your brain for a logical explanation. Was he mad at you about something? The last time you spoke had been the night of the Hogsmeade trip. You ate a perfectly pleasant dinner at the Three Broomsticks and even chugged a heinous amount of butterbeer together. On the trek back to the castle, Theo insisted on carrying your bags and kept hiding the fudge from you.

Nothing about that night indicated that he was upset with you. There had been that moment in the snow, but he had been annoyed with Mattheo and Enzo for the interruption more than anything else. Unless Theo had expected you to bring it up again, which you most definitely did not.

But still, you hardly thought that was a reason for him to suddenly give you the cold shoulder. Maybe he was embarrassed. Maybe he regretted it.

The possibilities weaved an endless thread of thoughts in your mind. By the time class winded down, you had given yourself a headache from thinking so much, which made you cranky and slightly angry because you realized that you hadn’t paid attention to a single thing Slughorn had said for the past hour and a half.

As your fellow classmates and professor filtered out of the classroom, you stayed behind and waited for the chance to talk to Theo. He seemed to be packing his things slowly, probably expecting you to grow impatient and leave before missing your next class. Sometimes it irked you how well Theo knew you.

You marched up to his table with your arms crossed.

Theo slowly looked up from his seat. “Can I help you with something, Y/N?”

“I haven’t seen much of you this week.”

He carelessly tossed a quill into his bag. “I’ve been busy.”

“Obviously.” You took a deep breath and pushed down your irritation. “I just...thought I’d check up on you. That’s all.”

“I’m fine,” he snapped.

“You haven’t shown up to any meals and you even skipped out on feeding Henry. Draco said you’ve been acting off all week.”

“Malfoy needs to mind his own goddamn business.”

You frowned. “He’s just worried about you, Theo. So am I.”

“I told you, I’m fine. Don’t bother worrying about me. I’m not your responsibility.”

“I never said you were,” you snapped back, barely leashing your annoyance. “If you want space, that’s fine but you don’t need to lash out at me or anyone else.”

Theo clenched his fists. “Well I’m sorry that my mood has become such an inconvenience, but seeing as none of you know how to leave me the fuck alone, I don’t really give a shit if you feel like I’m lashing out.”

His words lit a fuse in you until your irritation bubbled into anger. “What is your problem?” you bit out.

Theo rolled his jaw, averting his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“This,” you exclaimed, waving your hands over him in frustration. “This is what I’m talking about. I don’t know what I said or did to upset you, but obviously there’s a reason why you’re this pissed because you’ve been avoiding me all week.”

He sneered. “Please, don’t flatter yourself.”

You wanted to throttle him. You wanted to lean over the table, grab him by the collar, and shake him until he came to his senses, but you knew that nothing good would come out of this conversation if you stooped to his level of stubbornness.

“Why are you acting like this, Theo?”

For the first time that day, he looked up and met your gaze. Something unreadable flashed through his eyes, but Theo snuffed it out quickly. That mask of cocky arrogance, the one that he had lowered more and more over the past few months suddenly locked into place. It was painful to physically watch him put his walls up.

Those endearing dimples and playful sense of humor that you've grown so fond of were nowhere to be found. His lips curled into a sneer, those watercolour eyes devoid of emotion. There was no cheeky smile, no suggestive banter, no trace of the boy you had come to think of as your friend. This wasn't your Theo. You had no idea who the stranger standing in front of you was.

“Like what?” He said in a venomous tone. “This is how I’ve always been. You said it yourself. We’re rivals, remember? It’s not my fault that you thought we’d be anything more.”

“I thought we moved past this petty rivalry bullshit.” Your chest tightened as though someone had reached into your heart and wrenched it out of place. “I thought we were starting to become friends.”

“I am not your fucking friend, Y/N.”

You flinched and took a step back. Theo clocked your reaction and winced, but it was too late for his regret now. It felt like he had poured a cauldron full of acid over your head. A part of you wished he had instead. It would have hurt less.

Out of instinct, your defenses locked into place one by one. You laughed bitterly. “So what? You can fuck me, but you can’t even call me your friend?”

For a split second, Theo’s expression fell, but it was swiftly replaced by anger. “What did you expect? That we’d walk down the halls acting like we’re best mates? The Ravenclaw and her little Slytherin simpering after her like some fucking dolt? That’s not us. We fight, we fuck, and that’s it. Honestly, Y/N. I don’t know what the fuck you want from me!”

You could have let it go. Obviously you knew that there was a deeper reason why he was acting like this. You could have walked away and accepted that Theo was just incapable of communicating his feelings without pushing you away, but backing down from an argument had never really been your style. You were like a rabid dog with a bone. Incapable of admitting defeat.

“I want you stop being a fucking asshole and tell me why you’re so goddamn angry because obviously something’s set you off since we last spoke.” You rounded the corner of the table and got in his face. The chair made a scraping sound against the floor as Theo stood and easily towered over you. His height advantage didn’t deter you from pointing your finger in his face. “What is your fucking problem?”

Theo growled as he seized your wrist. “Don’t fucking push me, Y/N.”

You yanked your arm out of his grip and tugged at his tie. “Why not, Theo? Hm? Are you afraid that your little asshole charade will crumble the second you have a genuine moment? Godric fucking forbid you express an actual emotion without deflecting it with humor.”

He pushed you against the table, his eyes flashing like a dark sign in the ether. You knew it was a bad idea to push him, but you just couldn't help yourself. Something inside of you longed to activate the big red button of Theo's temper. “You have no idea how I feel.”

“That’s exactly the point! You hide behind that cocky, arrogant little smirk and you think it makes you strong, but it doesn’t. In fact, it makes you weak.”

“Shut up,” Theo snarled. “Shut the fuck up, right now.”

“Why don’t you fucking make me?”

As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you knew you would live to regret it. Theo smashed his lips against yours, cutting off whatever insult you were about to hit him with next. You gasped as he slipped his tongue inside your mouth, his kisses possessive and punishing.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Theo growled as he picked you up and placed you on the table as though you weighed nothing.

“And you don’t?” you shot back, pulling at the curls at the nape of his neck. “You’re so frustrating that it makes me want to fucking scream.”

His teeth grazed your neck and he bit down hard. “Why is it that you insist on having the last word every time? Why can’t you just leave things alone?”

“Why can’t you stop being a prick and say whatever it is that you want to say instead of throwing a goddamn tantrum?” You retorted as you unlooped his tie. “You’re not a child, Theo. You need to grow the fuck up!”

He nearly ripped the buttons off of your shirt, his hands shaking with anger and anticipation. “Oh, like you’re so fucking mature. Cornering me. Riling me up. You knew exactly what you were doing, Y/N.”

“What was I supposed to do?” You said angrily as you undid his belt. “Making you angry seems to be the only way to get you talking.”

“If it wasn’t already fucking obvious, I don’t want to talk!”

“So what? You just want to sit around and pout, leaving the rest of us to figure out what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“No,” he growled, gripping your thighs so hard that it was sure to leave marks. “What I want is to fuck out my frustrations until I stop feeling so goddamn angry.”

“So fucking do it already!”

“Bend over,” Theo snarled, spinning you around until your back pressed against his chest. “Bend the fuck over right now.”

You leaned over the table, your cheek pressed against the smooth surface as Theo pumped himself behind you. He hiked your skirt above your waist and palmed you through your soaked panties. Theo hissed when he felt how wet you were for him. He didn’t even bother removing your thong, opting to push it to the side before slotting himself inside of you.

“Fuck,” Theo cursed, bracing himself against the table. “God, you’re so tight.”

“Stop talking and fucking mo—“

You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence before Theo thrusted sharply into you. He chuckled darkly as your moan echoed off the walls. Theo ripped the scrunchie holding your braid together and gripped your hair in one hand while the other pressed gently against your throat.

“I told you,” he whispered harshly, his lips pressed against your neck. “There’s nothing I enjoy more than fucking the attitude right out of you. Not so brave now, are you Y/N?”

“Fuck you, Theo.”

“Technically I’m fucking you,” he said with a smirk.

The pace he set was punishing. You were vaguely aware of glass breaking and books scattering to the ground, but you didn’t care. This was familiar. Fighting with your bodies made sense to you.

All of the pent up feelings and tension made you anxious. It was a disaster waiting to happen. The anger within you was Mount Vesuvius, boiling and roiling with hot magma, ready to explode and erupt at any given moment, while whatever complicated relationship that had blossomed between you and Theo served as Pompeii. There was nothing strategic or logical about any of this, but at this moment, you wanted nothing more than to lose yourself in angry, meaningless sex.

Except it wasn’t meaningless. Not really. Because when Theo turned you around and placed you over his lap, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Look at me, Y/N.” You clamped your eyes shut. You didn’t trust yourself not to cry if you opened them right now. Theo caressed your cheek. “Please, just look at me.”

“Why?” you asked, your voice breaking. “What good would that do?”

“I want to see your eyes,” he answered. “I need you to see what you've done to me. I need you to see that you've wrecked me, ruined me. I can't breathe when you're around and it's even more painful when you aren't. I feel like I've gone mental. You've lodged yourself so deep that I wouldn't be able to get you out even if I ripped my heart out of my chest."

“Don’t,” you hissed, snapping your eyes wide open. You felt like a cornered animal, lashing out at the closest thing. “I don’t want to hear it, Theo. You’re only saying that because we’re having sex and you want to clear your conscience. Don’t fucking bother. We can fuck and get it out of our systems one last time without you feeling guilty about it.”

Theo stiffened. The gravity of your words rolled over him like the eruption that had destroyed the ancient Roman city. Whatever precarious thing that may have existed between you died right then and there. Everything turned to ash and the bitterness of destruction lingered in your mouth, choking you with its acrid taste. Theo pried himself away from you and angrily pulled his clothes back on.

“Is that what you think this is?” He seethed, his voice dripping with venom. “Just a quick fuck to get it out of our systems?”

You tugged your shirt back on and smoothed over the front of your skirt. “What?” you challenged. “It’s like you said, Theo. We fight, we fuck, and that’s it.”

His expression crumpled as you threw his words back at him. It tasted like ash in your mouth, but the bitterness was nothing compared to the ache in your chest as Theo pinned you with his gaze. There wasn't any trace of anger left in him. Instead, you saw nothing but disappointment.

It struck you harder more than his fury would have. You didn’t understand why he was acting like this. Theo was the one who pushed you away first. You were just returning the favor.

Those watercolor eyes that had become so familiar to you had never seemed farther, like they belonged to a complete stranger. “I may be weak for hiding my feelings, but what does that make you?” His wounded expression cut you to the core. “You’re always so smart, so calculated. Two steps ahead of everyone else. There isn’t an argument that you aren’t determined to win." His lip trembled as he averted your gaze. "Well, I’m done fighting. No matter what I do, you just keep rebuilding that impenetrable armor of yours and I’m tired of trying to break through, Y/N.”

There had never been anything more tragic than the look of absolute defeat on Theo’s face. You watched in silence as he walked out of the empty classroom.

It might’ve been minutes or hours later before you finally peeled yourself off of the table. You walked through the dungeons alone, feeling cold and numb. The sun had started to set over the horizon when you finally made it back to Ravenclaw Tower. You held yourself together until you opened the door to your dorm. Luna took one look at you before rushing to your side.

Your friend caught you just before you crumpled to the ground. Luna held you in her arms as you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Somewhere deep within you, a dam had broken and all of the emotions and tears and ugly, complicated feelings that you kept contained behind a steel wall of logic spilled out of you in waves.

“It’s alright,” Luna whispered, rubbing your back. “It’s going to be alright, Y/N.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was wrong. Nothing would ever be alright again because you hadn’t just watched Theo walk out of that empty potions classroom.

You watched him walk out of your life as well.

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#i am so so sorry like i hurt myself with this too #theo nott #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott smut #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott smut #theodore nott imagine

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sc0tters · 5 months

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The Bet - Mat Barzal

summary: when Mat agrees to participating in no nut November, he didn’t think you would be his biggest problem.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, fingering, minor spanking, small use of degradation.

word count: 3.49k

authors note: this was so much fun to write! Literally loved every second of this. Reader was a little bit of a shit but we love her for it.

When the boys came up with it Mat didn’t think you would care about it.

All it was meant to be was a fun way to do some team bonding, of course the team were participating in No Nut November. When Mat agreed he failed to remember that you had been in Germany working for the last three weeks and getting to use FaceTime and the sound of his voice made only got you so far.

So when you arrived back in New York with the message that he needed to see you it filled your mind with desire as your thoughts made your panties grow slick “hi Matty.” You smiled dropping your suitcase on the floor as Mat came to hug you.

The two of you were in the same apartment building and that’s how you met. Getting stuck in the elevator with a cute guy who lived on your floor meant you were going to make a friend. As the rents raised in the building making the place out of your budget, Mat offered the spare room in his place to you making you his roommate. Eventually one thing moved to another and then you ended up in his bed.

It was quick to become a reoccurring theme for the two of you and quickly your exclusively non exclusive relationship started “we can’t.” Mat sighed feeling your lips nip at the skin on his neck.

He wanted to let himself go as the hockey player missed feeling your touch, but as it was only the third of November Mat knew he had to remain strong even if it was only for a few more days “you okay?” You frowned furrowing your eyebrows as you pulled away.

The Canadian scratched his fingers on the back of his neck “boys thought it would be a good idea if we did No Nut-” Mat didn’t need to finish his words for you to let out a gasp “Mat!” You whined letting your lips form a pout.

Your body hurt as it longed for Mat’s touch, even willing to settle on his tongue or his fingers when you do badly wanted his cock “it’s just a month.” Mat reminded you as he grabbed your hands “we can make it through I promise.” He leaned forward to peck your lips.

Part of you tried to respect Mat and behave as you honestly thought that he was kidding, but as the seventh rolled around and Mat still avoided your bed, you succumbed to the truth.

However you were determined and that’s how you landed up on his couch in nothing more than his jersey “woah.” Mat felt his throat go dry as he caught you in the middle of eating a bowl of ice cream “how was practice?” You smiled dipping your spoon back into the bowl before your brought more ice cream to your lips.

Mat had a shaky walk over to you as he watched you reposition your legs so that he could see you were only wearing your panties beneath the jersey “it was um really good.” The Canadian coughed “are you sure it was hard?” A gasp left your lips as the cold melting ice cream fell onto your chin.

Your eyes sparkled as Mat’s locked with yours “I’m such a klutz.” You giggled using your finger to wipe the liquid from your chin before you wrapped your lips around it letting your tongue swirl around your digit “I’ll be in the shower!” Mat announced pressing his hands against his thighs as he got up and sped walked to his bedroom.

By the middle of the month you had looked to everything other option you had that wasn’t involving Mat. Each night the sound of your moans could be heard from your bedroom as your vibrator became your best friend. The way you’d gasp and whimper as you grew closer to your high and there was nothing Mat could do about it killed him.

So the time he was forced to spend away from you on the Islanders roadie did the remaining participants a load of good as they forgot about their partners. Yet the moment the door to the apartment opened and he was met with the sounds of your whimpers Mat was thrown right back into the bet “m-m-Mat.” You gasped as you pressed your vibrator against your clit as it brushed over the fabric of your panties.

You were in his favourite lingerie set, orange panties with a blue bra. It was a set that you surprised him in after he scored an overtime winning goal. Mat let his hand grip at your doorframe “please Mat.” You looked your eyes with him as he walked into your room not letting his eyes leave yours.

He crawled onto you bed wanting to take his mind off of the loss against the Canucks “let me make you feel good baby.” Mat pleaded wrapping his hand on yours as he guided the vibrator over your clit “let’s do this properly.” He proposed using his free hand to move your panties to the side “fucking missed you.” The Canadian kissed your lips as you moaned feeling the vibrator send shivers up your spine “missed this.” You agreed feeling the bliss bring you away like you were falling away from this all.

Your eyes screwed shut as your legs began to shake causing your heels to dig into the mattress beneath you “more.” Your hand reached down to cup Mat’s bulge in his jeans.

As your hand brushed over the fabric it caused his eyes to go wide. Within seconds Mat stopped the vibrator and set it on the mattress as he retracted himself from your bed “Mat?” You propped yourself on your elbows as you gasped watching him compose himself “I need a shower.” Mat announced running his hand over his face before he ran out of your room.

It had been another three days since that and you had decided to change your game plan “hey Mat.” You smiled as he was cooking dinner “how was your day?” He asked as you wrapped your hands around his torso.

You nuzzled your face in his neck causing him to smile “you tired pretty girl?” The pet name made your legs rub together “been thinking about you.” Mats hand clenched around the spatula as your breath fanned the shell of his ear “how big you are.” Your hand traced over his bulge as you gave it a squeeze.

As Mat remained still you continued to to try your luck “I know you want this baby.” You cooed continuing your actions as you moved your hand to slip into his boxers.

His cock throbbed in your hand “please.” Mat begged so close to accepting defeat as his eyes screwed shut.

It felt like your victory lap as you turned his head to help you kiss his lips “want me to suck you off?” Your voice was soft as you watched him nod “want to put it in your mouth.” Mat nodded watching you drop to your knees to the side of him as he turned his body to face you “please don’t tease me.” The hockey player saw how his erection stuck out as he was probably close to coming already.

When the string of saliva left your lips to coat his cock an alarm went off, most probably one for the thing in the pot that he was cooking “we can’t.” Mat was quick to shake his bad helping his wet cock back into his boxers that he protected with his shorts.

As you got up wanting to whine at him about it Mat instead pecked your lips “it’s just a few more days left baby.” He mumbled watching as you walked off to the where your bedroom was your door shut with a slam. Maybe you shouldn’t have cared that he was doing this, the cause should have warmed your heart. But instead as you had built up a reliance on Mat to help you come, you realised nobody did it better than him.

And for that and no matter how hard you tried, you simply couldn’t come.

So that was how you landed up at the teams mini party at a bar with a plan. As you complained to your friends about your predicament they reminded you of one key factor, you and Mat weren’t dating.

At the end of the day as much as you had a crush on him he wasn’t your boyfriend and you knew that there was someone on the team who did have a crush on you. That was how you ended up stood next to Pierre most of the night.

His touch was harsh but you figured if you couldn’t make Mat jealous enough for him to fuck you then you’d accept defeat. Mat was a good sport and tried to play along with it all for a bit biting his tongue whenever you’d laugh at the clearly not funny comments that Pierre made.

The Canadian was also struggling at this point in the month and you wearing his favourite dress truly didn’t help how his pants felt tonight. Mat knew you were trying to push his buttons as he’d catch your gaze every time you ran your fingers down Pierre’s arm, it was what you did for Mat.

But when he watched his teammate place on the curve of your ass the hockey player could no longer keep his mouth shut “Pierre I think Matt wanted to talk to you.” Mat lied through his teeth as he smiled like the Cheshire Cat “thanks bro.” Pierre nodding not picking up on it in the same way that you did “we can do this two ways.” Mat began the moment the older boy left you.

His eyes were already undressing you as they started at the loose collar line of your dress, Mat knew you hated wearing a bra “I take you into the bathroom or we go home and I don’t let you come even after November is over.” His warning sent shivers down your spine “what about the bet?” You stammered over your words as he laughed.

He ran his finger over the outline of your lips “I’m done playing good boy whilst you go around like this.” Mat explained leaning down to kiss the side of your lips making sure to miss where you wanted him “if you want to be fucked like a slut I’ll treat you like one too.” The irritation in his voice made you feel lightheaded as your panties grew wet “p-please Mat.”

You croaked out allowing your lips to form a pout.

It made Mat let out a laugh “maybe I should be leaving you here because it doesn’t seem you want this.” Fear went through your as your eyes widened “show me you do baby.” Mat mumbled as you took his hand and practically dragged him off to the bathrooms “look at how desperate my little baby is for my cock.” He teased as the door locked behind you both.

His hand rubbed your face as he pressed you against the counter “please Mat.” You begged puckering your lips as you tried to kiss him but as his hockey reaction times kicked in he instead dodged your attempts “maybe I should just go kiss Pierr-” Mat didn’t let you finish your sentence as his lips were forced onto yours.

You took a mere second to start kissing him back “fuck.” Your words were muffled as Mat pinched his fingers at the skin of your ass when he bunched up your dress around your hips “the way you fucking act I wouldn’t even be in here with you.” Mat grunted pressing his lips against your neck as he nipped at the skin.

The Canadian watched as your eyes fluttered as his hands cupped your breasts with the only thing between you and his hands was the fabric of your dress “but you’re too needy tonight to let me do that aren’t you?” The hockey player retracted himself from you as he was met with your silence “asked you a question.” Mat locked his hand around your jaw squeezing the skin of your chin.

A long whimper came from your lips “need you so much Mat.” You groaned trying to shift your hips towards the hockey player “but you’ve been acting like a brat.” Mat pulled you off of the counter as he spun you around. Your lips were swollen as you started at the two of you in the mirror “look at these little panties too.” The hockey player let out a dry laugh fiddling with the lace material of the white thong you wore.

He massaged the skin on your ass before he raised his hand to it slap the area “fuck!” You jumped feeling him squeeze the sore area of skin “you like that pretty girl?” Mat cooed kissing your neck as he repeated his actions “think the club wants to hear your noises baby.” The hockey player smiled as he brought his hand to cup your pussy.

It made you gasp as you pushed yourself up “god you’re soaked.” He clicked his tongue moving his fingers around the material so that he could tease your clit “please Mat.” You begged him as your body began to relax as his movements continued at the slow pace.

You whimpered feeling his fingers run down your slit before they thrusted into your cunt, his palm pressed against your clit “you’re so fucking good to me.” You croaked letting your head drop against his shoulder “I know baby.” Mat kissed your temple when your cunt clenched around his fingers.

He watched you gasp as your jaw went slack “god you don’t know how much I’ve been thinking about this pussy this month.” The Canadians words made you moan “thought about waking you up so many times during the night just by shoving my dick in to this hole.” You whined feeling his breath against your neck.

The hockey player smirked seeing how you watched the mirror “you’d like that wouldn’t you?” He asked nipping at your earlobe “waking up full of my load as it’s trapped inside of you.” Mat wasn’t usually possessive but tonight unlocked a whole new side of him “want that Mat.” You begged reaching forward to grip at the sink in an attempt to avoid how quickly your orgasm was approaching.

At that point Mat could feel his cock pressing against the fabric of his jeans “I’m gonna fuck you now.” He announced removing his hand from your panties as it caused to you whine “I’ll give you what you want in a second.” Mat rolled his eyes as he slotted his fingers into your mouth “taste yourself f’me.” Watching you swirl you tongue around his digits like it was his cock felt like you were teasing him.

It made him reach back down to your panties as he pushed them down “can’t wait to fuck you.” Your hands helped bunch your dress around your waist as you stepped out of your panties “don’t make me wait.” You begged feeling your legs ache with anticipation as the sound of him undoing his belt echoed in your ears “you’ll take it when I fucking give it to you.” Mat spat as his fingers dug into your hip.

Mat wrapped his hand around his cock pumping it a few times as he licked his lips “‘m sorry.” You apologised turning to lock eyes with him “I know you are.” The hockey player sighed bringing his cock to tease your clit “that’s why you’re gonna be a good girl and take it.” Mat ordered thrusting his cock onto your cunt as your head fell forward.

He smiled as you weren’t given any time to adjust to his cock “god you’re so tight.” The Canadian grunted as he kissed the back of your neck “you been missing this cock?” Mat asked as you moaned reaching up to pull the sleeves of your dress down so that you could pull at your nipples.

You moaned as his cock pumped into you “fuck yeah.” Your fingers tugged at your sensitive nubs “so big.” You blurted out as his fingers went to rub your clit “keep making those pretty noises for me baby.” Mat mumbled kissed your neck.

The hockey player watched in the mirror as his cock bottomed you out “don’t stop Mat.” You pleaded as you began forcing yourself back against his cock “to think I actually gave this cunt up for a month.” Mat laughed at his words as he clicked his tongue.

Your brain went foggy as not a single coherent thought formed in it “see why you tried so fucking hard.” You whimpered as he used his free hand to bring your back flat against his torso “‘m not an idiot.” You pointed out causing him to laugh “you forgetting that you went to Pierre?” Mat shot back as your teeth caught your lip as you held back a moan.

Mat tsked as his eyes caught your action “want to hear you baby.” He muttered into your ear as his hand squeezed around your throat “let him know just who is making you feel this good.” He hinted to the boy you had been stuck to your side the entire night “you jealous?” You teased with a smirk as you squeezed your hand around his causing the wrap he had go tighter.

The room felt hot as the sound of skin slapping echoed off of the walls “look at the mirror.” Mat barked making you look up at the glass causing him to look back at you “it’s my cock that’s fucking you.” He explained kissing your head “I’m the one who owns this cunt.” The hockey player spat making you moan.

You felt yourself grow close “all yours Matty.” You nodded as you let out a cry “I’m gonna come.” Tears formed in your eyes as your legs began to shake again “let it go baby.” Mat nodded giving you the green light to come.

It was hot as your cunt clenched around his cock as Mat fucked you through your orgasm “my pretty little girl.” He cooked quickly pulling himself out so that he could flip you over pushing you onto the counter “Ma-” you gasped feeling him thrust into you again.

Mat pushed his hand against the mirror above you “I’m not stopping until I come.” He explained making you moan “please.” Your voice was shaky as you felt your eyes roll back when his hand found its way back to your clit “god I’ve just given you one and now you want more?” Mat smirked as you tried to kiss him “I need you Mat.” You moaned using your energy to lock your hands behind his neck pulling him close to you.

He felt his cock throb as his movements became staggered “I’m close.” You hadn’t come down from your first orgasm and it left you close to a second “hold it.” Mat snapped quickening his movements on your clit causing your cunt to clamp around his cock.

Your throat felt raw as you whined “don’t push your luck baby.” The hockey player warned you “keep squeezing my cock like that.” As you tilted your hips to meet his it resulted in both of you moaning.

Mat kissed your lips to hold in his moan “Mat!” You huffed as your body shook “let it go baby.” He grunted as your second orgasm trigger his first of the night.

As his warm ropes shot into your cunt you tried to push him away as he slowly kept his hips moving “just making sure my come stays in you.” Mat smiled pecking your lips as he pulled out allowing you up. You reached for your panties on the floor but he was quicker “you aren’t going to need these tonight.” The hockey player explained shoving them into the pocket of his pants before he continued getting ready to go back out.

You two had gotten out of the bar unseen and as you got in the car you thought you finally had the chance to breathe “you look real fucking pretty tonight.” Mat smiled as his hand moved up your thigh “just tonight?” A smirk was quick to fall from your face as his fingers touched the lips of your cunt “Mat.” Your voice grew shaky feeling his fingers tease your slit.

The car came to a red light “just making sure you stay ready for when we get back home.” Mat smirked as he kissed your lips “no coming until we get home.” His words made you grow sick with fear as his fingers formed a scissoring motion in your cunt.

“You couldn’t have thought I’d let you get away with that behaviour all month, now could you?”

#Mat Barzal smut #Mat Barzal imagines #mat barzal oneshot #imagines #oneshots #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey smut #amber writes fics

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justbreakonme · 5 months

Text

Signs of Change

Whumpee didn’t like it, when the seasons started to change. It still made him uneasy, knowing just how cold the nights could get and just how precarious his position could be. He was only safe as long as he was good, and the outdoors had no mercy.

But Caretaker did.

“Hey, Whumpee, why don’t you come in here? It’s warmer, since the stove’s going.” Caretaker’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he obeyed.

When he rounded the corner into the kitchen, the warmth enveloped him immediately. There was a large, silver soup pot boiling away on the stove, and the smell of onion and garlic and herbs and all sorts of things instantly made his mouth water.

“It needs to simmer for a bit longer, I think. Do you want to come sit with me?”

Whumpee nodded, and took a seat where he always did, across from Caretaker at the old wooden table.

“Not a talking day, huh?”

He shook his head, rubbing a fist in a circle over his chest.

Sorry.

“It’s fine, you’re good. I just like to check-in so I know.”

Whumpee couldn’t ever explain why sometimes words just, failed him. But, after his old owner, after being silent for so long, he sometimes felt…stuck.

“Do you feel like playing cards? I think we have enough time for a round of war…”

Whumpee nodded, dutifully turning to grab the cards from the little shelf in the corner. He liked cards. War was the first game they had played together, back when he’d first been bought rescued.

Caretaker had made it very clear that he wasn’t owned, anymore.

But he hoped maybe, maybe if he was really, really good, he could be. He had tried, once, to ask what he could do, if anything, to earn being owned again, but, the words had died in his mouth and he’d gone silent for days.

He understood why they didn’t want to own him, he wasn’t really worth very much. But, sometimes, he let himself believe that between him trying his very hardest and Caretakers inexplicable mercy, there might be a chance. Someday.

Caretaker handed him a stack of cards, and he brought the tips of his fingers to his chin, hand open and palm towards himself, then moved his hand out in front of him, almost in a swinging motion.

Thank you.

“You’re welcome.” Caretaker smiles as they play their first card, and he follows suit.

The game goes by quickly, and soon, the oven timer went off, making them both jump.

“Here, we’ll just scoot these over a bit and we can play while we eat. Would you grab the spoons?”

He nodded, carefully moving his pile of cards to the side and heading for the silverware drawer.

As Caretaker ladled out the soup, he placed a spoon at each of their spots, then, unsure if he should sit or wait for the next task, he hovered between the drawer and the table, wringing his hands.

As they turned to grab the bowls, they noticed his hesitation. “Go ahead and sit, I’ll bring the bowls over.”

Another tap-then-outward gesture of thanks, and he sat back down, watching as they carefully ladled out two bowls of steaming soup.

Carefully, they carried one bowl at a time to the table, oven mitts on.

“Ooh- don’t try to hold it, it’s super hot.” Caretaker dodged where Whumpee had tried to help set the bowl down, instead opting to set it down on the edge and scoot it over so it didn’t spill.

He rubbed his fist over his chest in a circle again, more frantic this time.

Sorry, sorry!

“You’re good, I just didn’t want you to burn yourself,” they returned to the table with their own bowl, tossing the oven mitts onto the spare chair after settling in, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

He tried to mimic Caretaker, who was blowing gently on their soup, but the lump in his throat got in the way.

He wished, as he often did, that he could speak without speaking, in more ways than literally. He wished he could make them know things.

If he was patient and waited for his voice to return, or if he went to get one of the whiteboards Caretaker kept laying around for him, he could tell him that he would do anything for them. That they had his loyalty and devotion, his mind, body, and soul.

But he couldn’t make them know it the way he did. It snuck up on him, in moments like these, then hit like a tsunami.

His stillness must have caught their attention because they looked up. “You okay?”

He nodded, swallowing hard and smiling, then gave a timid thumbs up.

You don’t own me, but, I belong to you.

They grinned, giving him a thumbs up back, and another tsunami took his breath away.

But, that was fine. He’d let the soup cool on its own, and they would play cards, and for the first time in a very long while, he was able to forget the changing seasons and the morning frost.

It couldn’t touch him here.

Caretaker wouldn’t let it.

#non verbal whumpee #occasionally non verbal whumpee #???#if there’s a better tag please let me know #whump #whump writing #caretaker #whumpee #comfort #whump scenario #pet whump #deconditioning #whump comfort #whumpee wanting to be owned #rescue

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risriswrites · 1 year

Text

Just Roommates

summary: a series of moments between bradley bradshaw and his roommate that prove they're a little more than "just roommates"

pairing: roommate x bradley bradshaw, fem reader

warnings: none, just some mild language and lots of fluff

author's note: this is my second fic and i just wanted to say thank you all for the love on the first one! it made my heart happy :) likes, comments, and reblogs are welcomed and appreciated!

word count: 9.1k

“Okay but hear me out. What if we painted the living room wall a pale green?” you question, gesturing to the beige wall directly across from you with a spoon, that was once being used for your bowl of cereal; which had been discarded five minutes prior in favor of the sudden inspiration to revamp the living room.

Tilting your head to the side you allow your eyes to wander the length of the wall before adding, “Not like a pastel green but more like a sage green. I think it’d compliment the couch…and the wood floors.”

Bradley was leaning in the doorframe of the hallway that led to your separate bedrooms, arms crossed over themselves and letting his eyes trail over the way you’ve perched yourself onto the granite kitchen island, one leg crossed over the other.

It was a Saturday morning, so it didn’t surprise him that you’d foregone pants and settled on an oversized t-shirt, really short shorts, and fuzzy socks. You always complained about how you couldn’t sleep if it was too hot, so he made sure to keep the thermostat at a comfortable 70 degrees, but as soon as you woke up, you’d be freezing and needed socks to keep your feet warm. He’d never understand it.

Dragging his eyes away from you he lazily glanced at the wall of the living room. Honestly, he was fine with the way it was, but he wasn’t an interior decorator, so his opinion didn’t really count for anything in the name of “design”.

“I don’t think it really matters” he shrugs, letting his eyes wander back over to you. Your hair was still a little messy from sleeping, but in way he found oddly, cute.

A huff slips past your lips as you slide off the counter and move to wash the bowl you’d been using, “Bradley, the apartment could use a little bit of color. It’s kind of bland in here,” you grimace, sparing him a quick glance before resuming your assault on the navy-blue bowl.

Sighing, Bradley pushes himself off the doorframe in favor of moving to the granite island you’d been sitting on a few moments ago, “Well, you pay for half of the apartment, so whatever you think will make the place look decent that’s up to you.”

“That’s not how decisions work between roommates, Bradley. We have to both agree with it,” you mutter.

Shaking your head you force a breath out, “Look, we can talk about it later if you want, it’s not a big deal. We can always meet in the middle and bring in a plant or something instead? You keep the neutrality of the apartment, and I can have some greenery to look at.” you negotiate, all while wiping your hands on the hand towel hanging across the bar of the oven, shooting him an awkward smile, doing your best to not glance at his naked chest.

He forces his own smile back at you and nods his head the tiniest bit to let you know he’d think about it.

With that conversation ending you decide to leave Bradley to his thoughts in favor of snuggling into the couch for some warmth and an excuse to binge watch “The Witcher”.

You and Bradley had been living together for a little over a month, having been introduced to each other through your friend Jamie.

Jamie was a landing signal officer for the navy that you had met while you were in college. He was just getting his associates degree to pass the time while he worked on achieving all of the necessary credentials to start training in the navy, and once he graduated, was stationed out in Miramar. He had worked alongside Bradley during a few different missions and had kept in contact with him over the past few years. The two were close enough that Bradley valued Jamie’s feedback and opinion, so when Bradley came to him with his roommate dilemma, he knew the perfect person to recommend.

Based on your first meeting alone you liked Bradley. He was well mannered, reserved, and yet, still had a certain rugged charm to him. And now you were here, laying on the gray couch you had convinced Bradley would look perfect in the small living space, snuggled under a knitted blanket from your grandma, as Bradley fixed himself a cup of coffee.

“I’m going to go out for a run in ten minutes, do you need anything while I’m out?” Bradley called out to you.

You tilted your head back to look at him from the throw pillow you were currently laying on, “No thanks I’m good,” you smiled, quickly turning back to your show, successfully avoiding gawking at your roommate as he maneuvered around your shared kitchen.

Ten minutes came and went, and you never heard Bradley leave the house. Crinkling your eyebrows, you sit up from your spot on the couch and peer back into the kitchen to check if Bradley had snuck out without you noticing. Only to see him sat on a barstool at the kitchen island, one arm leaning on the long piece of granite and the other holding his coffee mug in his hand, casually sipping at the hot beverage while his eyes were glued to the tv screen.

A smirk grows on your lips, “Going for a run, huh?”

Bradley’s gaze breaks from the tv screen and snaps to you, his eyebrows pinching together as he shoots you a playful glare, mumbling into his mug, “I’m about to leave.”

“Sure, you are” you snort.

Silence ensues as you continue to smirk at him and he glares at you, before finally he breaks.

“Alright fine,” he huffs, “One episode, and then I’m going for a run.”

You turn back to the tv with a knowing smile on your face before getting comfortable under your blanket again.

Bradley stays put at the kitchen island for the next episode, but once you’ve started the second, he’s gravitated to sitting on the arm of the couch.

You glance over at him every now and then, smirk growing larger with every minute he continues to sit and not leave to go for his run, too enraptured in the show currently playing on your shared tv screen.

Grasping the remote in your hand you pause the show, turning you head and quirking an eyebrow at him, “Soo…still going for that run?”

Bradley huffs and throws his head back groaning, “I need to.”

You stay in your position allowing yourself to let your gaze roll over the scars that litter his neck and along his cheek. Seeing the war waging on in his brain you decide to make it easy for him, “How about you go on that run, and I’ll just pause it until you get back? It’s on Netflix so it’s not going anywhere anytime soon.” You smile.

Bradley turns to face you, moving his arms behind him to rest on the couch, further exposing his naked chest, “You sure? I don’t wanna make you wait to finish the episode.”

You push aside any thoughts about how hot he looks right now and instead focus on his honey brown eyes, letting your smile turn into an easy smirk, “I’ll be okay Bradshaw, I’m a big girl I can wait one hour for you to finish your run.”

Bradley raises an eyebrow while leaning towards you a little bit, letting his tongue poke out to swipe across his lips before he fixes you with a sarcastic smile of his own, “Sweetheart, it’s cute you think that it’s gonna take me that longto go on a three-mile run.”

And with that statement being put out in the air, he’s moving off the couch and heading towards the door, passing the water bottle he set out earlier.

Momentarily dazed from his proximity, you regain your train of thought and call after him, “Have fun show off!”

“Don’t start that episode until I get back sweetheart!” he yells, pointing a finger back in your direction, letting the door swing closed behind him.

A snort escapes you as you take to scrolling through your phone, waiting for Bradley to come back.

And exactly twenty minutes after you last saw him; not that you were counting, Bradley strolls back inside, a sheen of sweet glistening from his chest and abs as he strides towards the water sitting on the island.

Having looked up at his arrival, you quickly force yourself to look back down, cursing under your breath at how heaven sent he looks right now.

As Bradley is unscrewing the cap from his water bottle, he glances towards you propped up on the couch scrolling through the many apps you have on your phone before he slides his gaze to the tv, smiling to himself when he sees that you’ve kept your promise in keeping the show paused.

Allowing himself a few gulps of water, he sets the bottle back on the island and turns his attention back to you, “You mind keeping it paused for a little longer? I need a shower.”

You keep your eyes glued to your phone screen, “Don’t need to ask Bradshaw, I’d rather not have you tainting our clean couch with your sweat.” You snicker, wrinkling your nose in disgust.

He just shakes his head and smiles as he sets off towards the bathroom.

Another ten short minutes had passed before Bradley saunters back into your shared living space freshly showered and wearing a pair of gray sweatpants.

You stare for all of five seconds before becoming conscious of what you’re doing and move to grab the remote that’s been lying dormant on the side table for the past thirty-five minutes, eager to distract yourself from allowing him to take up any further space in your mind.

Bradley, however, has other plans and is picking your legs up off the couch and maneuvering himself under them in order to sit, bringing them back down and settling them in his lap, unknowingly regaining your attention.

Said attention being specifically on his right hand that is currently resting on top of your left leg, allowing a warmth to settle where his hand is, and traveling up through the rest of your body, a flush no doubt currently on your cheeks. Giving your head a small shake, you press play on the remote before forcing yourself to relax into the throw pillow and focus on Geralt arguing with Jaskier.

He's your roommate.

You’re very attractive roommate, but your roommate, nevertheless. And reminding yourself of that fact helps you stay focused on the show before the two of you part ways a few hours later.

He’s your roommate. Nothing’s going to happen.

“Pretty sure this is the kinda injury you go to the hospital for, Bradshaw. Not your very unqualified roommate and a first aid kit” You grimace.

Bradley was currently sitting on the toilet seat of your shared bathroom; after what you can imagine was another interesting night at the hard deck, in his typical white tank and Hawaiian button-down combo while you stood in between his jean clad legs, attempting to control the bleeding above his eyebrow.

“I’m serious you might need stitches,” you grunt, grabbing some more gauze and pushing it against the laceration.

Bradley snorts, “I wouldn’t say you’re completely unqualified if you’re gonna stand there and say I need stitches.”

You roll your eyes at the statement and resist the urge to smack him, “Anyone with half a brain can deduce that you need stitches, doesn’t take someone with a degree to know that.”

“So, you’re saying you’re perfect for the job, since you don’t need a degree? That’s perfect, thanks sweetheart,” comes the reply of a grinning Bradley.

A huff escapes past your lips as you mutter out, “You’re impossible”.

Your eyes examine the items from the first-aid kit that are currently scattered across the countertop, landing on a small box that says, “butterfly wound closures”. You light up at your luck before ordering Bradley to keep pressure on the gauze you’ve been holding as you move to get the much-needed bandages.

Once you’ve grabbed two or three bandages from the box, you push Bradley’s hand off the gauze and slowly peel it back to check on the bleeding. Luckily, it’s stopped now, and you can focus on closing the wound.

Grabbing a square packet with the words, “alcohol pad” on it, you rip open the packaging and take out the small piece of moist fabric, before sucking in a breath. Just knowing how much this could burn against Bradley’s wound has you wincing and hesitating to clean the area around it. “This might sting a little if I get to close, so try to stay still” you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady as you start wiping around the wound. “How’d this happen anyway?” you question, attempting to distract him from any pain he might be feeling.

Bradley watches your face as you begin to wipe away at the dried blood above his eyebrow, nose scrunched, eyebrows pinched, and eyes focused on his wound. It’s endearing, how seriously you’re taking this.

“Some guy kept bothering Phoenix, she can usually handle guys like that on her own, but this one just wouldn’t take no for an answer. I stepped in to help escort him out of the hard deck with Hangman when the guy swung on me. It’s not a big deal.” He sighed.

You forced out a chuckle at his response, “I wouldn’t say that. Not when you’re coming home with blood rushing down your face”.

Bradley clocked the skip in his heart at the word “home” coming from your lips.

Ignoring that thought he rasped out, “Yeah well, better me than Phoenix. Plus, he definitely looks worse than me, I can guarantee you that, sweetheart.”

And just when you were about to retort back, you made the mistake of brushing the alcohol pad too close to his open wound.

Bradley’s eyes instantly force themselves shut, reaching out to grip your legs as he inhales sharply.

“Shit, shit, shit, I’m sorry Bradley” you apologize, moving your hands to hold his head in place. And before you even register what you’re doing you’re blowing air on his wound, applying the same knowledge you have with the reaction between small cuts and hand sanitizer to this scenario.

Bradley slowly let out the breath he’d been holding, muttering out an, “It’s fine sweets,” allowing his body to relax again.

Discarding the alcohol wipe, you quickly grab the bandages you set out, unwrapping them at a swift pace before moving to place them one by one over Bradley’s cut. Gingerly, you smooth your thumb over the last bandage, securing it in place on Bradley’s sun-kissed skin.

“Okay” you let out a breath, “You’re all set to be a hero again” you smile softly. “Don’t get into the habit of getting into fights with drunk men.” You warned, moving your right hand to squeeze his shoulder.

Bradley’s eyes flutter open meeting your soft gaze, and he can’t help but to let one side of his mouth quirk up into a smirk, “I make no promises sweetheart.”

Rolling your eyes at his confession you take a step back from him, forcing his hands to drop from your thighs, “You think you can manage putting everything back in the first-aid kit, show off? Or do you need my help with that too?” you smirk.

Bradley scoffs, pushing himself off the toilet to tower above you, “I got it,” he jests, light blue Hawaiian shirt swaying at the speed he moved from the toilet.

With the smirk still playing on your lips you back out of the bathroom, rounding the corner completely before calling out to him, “good to know you’re not completely helpless, Bradshaw!”

It’s been almost a year since you and Bradley started living together and somehow, he’s managed to supply endless excuses as to why dagger squad wasn’t able to meet his roommate. No one was more frustrated about the lack of an introduction than Phoenix, as Bradley’s closest friend she was a little pissed and mildly offended at the realization.

So, after some choice words between Phoenix and Bradley and the occasional nagging from Hangman, Bradley folded and told the duo that he’d talk to you about inviting them over for dinner.

Dragging his feet, Bradley opened the door to your shared apartment, taking in the smell of the lavender essential oil you had diffusing in the entryway.

Bradley faintly remembers you educating him on the effectiveness of essential oils when it comes to mental and physical health, and how lavender was best for promoting sleep and relaxation. Something you learned from your “stress management” class in college. It’s funny how that knowledge has him instantly relaxing once he’s stepped into the apartment; or maybe it was just knowing you occupied the same space as him.

“Honey I’m home!” Bradley calls out, tone light and playful.

He rounds the corner to see you propped up on the couch, book in your lap as you glance up at his loud and flashy entrance.

Quirking a brow at the flight suit currently tied around his waist, you watch him move one arm above his head to lean against the doorway, black fitted tee straining as he makes himself comfortable. You shoot him a playful smile, “Have a good day, sweetheart?”

Bradley lets a smirk grace his lips as he watches you, “I’ve had better.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention downwards towards the book in your lap, “Well there’s always tomorrow” you reasoned.

Bradley allows himself to take in your appearance, tongue poking out to wet his lips as he watches a strand of hair fall in your face. He decides then and there that the matching green sports bra and spandex shorts set is his new favorite outfit that you own and there’s definitely gotta be some rule about inappropriate thoughts about your roommate that he’s ninety-nine percent sure he’s breaking.

Breaking his gaze from you he moves to the kitchen, focusing on fixing himself a glass of water when he remembers Phoenix’s words from earlier.

Meandering around the kitchen for a few more seconds he decides to just throw it out there.

“Hey sweetheart, are you okay with a few members from my squad coming by the apartment?”

Hearing his voice echoing through the kitchen into the living room, you allow his words to sit for a second, letting them mull over in your head until you decide to answer him with a, “why not? The more the merrier,” and glance back down to continue reading the murder mystery you’d been attempting to finish for the past few days.

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding; Bradley smiles softly at your focused expression before grabbing his phone and shooting a group text to Phoenix and Hangman to let them know they could swing by later this week.

Only putting his phone down when he got a thumbs up from Hangman, and an enthused text from Nat telling him to send the details when he can, allowing himself to refocus back onto the girl currently sat on the gray couch, with an impressive number of throw pillows surrounding her, and a book he’s never heard of before in her hands.

Smiling quietly to himself, he runs a hand through his curls and decides to head to the bathroom to shower, already hearing you in his mind telling him how you don’t want the smell of jet fuel on the couch.

Once he’s finished, he throws on an old Navy tee and gray sweatpants, heading back into the living room to try and persuade you to put down your book and watch a few episodes of “The Witcher” with him instead.

Maneuvering himself around the coffee table and onto the couch, he quickly grabs your legs and props them onto his lap and shoots you a wide smile.

Peering over the top of your book you fix your gaze on his honey-brown irises and quirk an eyebrow at his disruptive actions.

Bradley nods his head to the tv in a silent question, and you hide the growing smile on your face behind the book you’ve had your nose in for the better part of the last few hours. “Bradshaw, can’t you see I’m reading?” you challenged, quirking an eyebrow up at the man sitting in front of you, puppy-dog eyes on full display.

He nods, “I see that, and I raise you with a much more interesting proposition.”

Lowering your book just a tad, you tilt your head to the side and scoff, “Oh really, and what might that be?”

Bradley bites his bottom lip before shooting you a dazzling smile, “You, me, and at least three episodes of ‘The Witcher’, accompanied by pizza and wings, if you’re into that kinda thing?”

You hum at his idea and look up in thought, biting the bottom of your own lip in the process, “I don’t know Bradshaw, this book is really starting to get good, and I’ve been wanting to finish it for like, a week now” you exaggerate.

He gives you ten seconds, and then he’s reaching across the couch to swipe the book from your hands tossing it behind him, earning a surprised shriek from you.

“What book?” he smiles again, beaming from ear to ear.

Not able to contain your own smile, you let out a soft laugh, “Go order the pizza, show off.”

Bradley stands, sending you a mock salute as he makes his way to his phone.

“Oh! And I want a Hawaiian pizza Bradshaw!” you call out.

Bradley scrunches his face in disgust at the thought of pineapple on pizza, turning back to you phone now up to his ear as he waits for the line to connect, “Still can’t believe you like pineapple on pizza, it’s a crime.”

“It’s really not!”

Pushing yourself up onto the arm of the couch, you bring your knees to sit underneath you, using your hands for emphasis as you argue the point of how perfect the sweetness of the pineapple compliments the saltiness of the pizza, and all Bradley can do is roll his eyes and smile at how enthusiastic you are. And despite him not agreeing with you, he orders the pizza for you anyway. Moving back to his spot on the couch once he’s placed the order and grabs ahold of your left leg, massaging it as you continue to rant about the different universally accepted sweet and salty combinations.

Once the pizza has been delivered, the two of you spread the small feast across the coffee table, as you start the second season of “The Witcher”.

Every now and then Bradley will make a small comment that makes you laugh, distracting you long enough that you’d have to rewind the show every few minutes to make sure you caught everything. And Bradley would just smile in return, taking pleasure in knowing that he’s the one making you laugh.

Once the pair of you have gotten through the third episode, you exit out of the Netflix app and turn the tv off, and before you can make a move from the couch, Bradley brings up the topic of his friends again and you tell him Friday at six should be good for you.

Sending him a small smile you slide your legs out of his grip and stand from the couch, bringing the leftover pizza with you and placing it in the fridge, Bradley close behind you with the wings. Once everything is put away, the two of you exchange “goodnights” and part ways to your separate rooms, lingering looks, and fond smiles left in the shadows of the dark.

Two Days Later

Friday comes quickly, work having been overwhelming and taking up most of your limited time. The time you normally are reading or hanging out with Bradley is almost nonexistent.

Once you’ve made it back to the apartment you make a beeline for the bathroom to wash off the day. Letting yourself linger under the hot water long after you completed your routine, forcing yourself to turn the water off, step out of the shower, and dry off.

Remembering that Bradley invited his friends to come by tonight, you curse under your breath, wrapping the towel around your body and swinging the bathroom door open, stepping out into the hallway, only to crash into a hard chest.

“Shit” you mumble, scrambling backwards towards the bathroom.

Looking up you make eye contact with Bradley, who’s sporting his black tee and flight suit attire from his day working at the naval base. Gulping you tighten the towel around your body, squeaking out a “sorry” as you try to look past his eyes towards your bedroom door.

Bradley ignores the urge to look down past your eyes, willing himself to think of anything other than your naked body, and shuffles back a few steps to let you past.

You take that as your opportunity to scurry to your room in an attempt at avoiding any more awkward moments for the night. Deciding to throw your thoughts into what outfit you’re going to wear instead of the recent interaction between you and Bradley. Coming up with jean shorts, a white t-shirt, and white socks, you give yourself a onceover in your floor-length mirror and nod at your reflection, leaving the safe space of your room to wander around the kitchen.

Since you and Bradley had ordered pizza earlier on this week, you take it upon yourself to order takeout from the local Chinese restaurant. Not having been able to go out and grab groceries to prepare for tonight’s dinner, ordering Chinese seemed better than ordering pizza for a second time.

The bathroom door opening signals to you that Bradley’s finished showering, almost like a warning of his inevitable presence.

Busying yourself with tidying up the living room, you don’t notice him walk out of the hallway, too focused on how to lay your grandma’s knitted throw blanket over the couch.

Bradley lets out a breath, closing his eyes and wills himself to forget about your moment in the hallway, instead choosing to put his shoes in a more orderly fashion by the front door, and switching the diffuser on as he passes it, the smell of lavender quickly flooding his senses and bringing him back to thoughts that all involve you in nothing but a towel.

Shaking his head, he forces the image of your wide eyes, wet hair, and glowing skin from his mind and moves back to the kitchen to unload the dishwasher.

You finally take notice of him and send him a shy smile. He sends you one back and breaks the silence by asking about your day at work.

Thankful for the distraction, the awkward tension dissipates and the two of you fall into easy conversation until three sharp knocks come from the door.

Looking to Bradley he sends a reassuring smile your way before going to answer the door. The sound of two voices arguing back and forth hit your ears and you instantly smile and let out a small laugh at the loud, “Bagman I swear, if you don’t shut your mouth, I’m going to sew it shut with the next toothpick I can find.”

Composing yourself quickly, you tuck a stray hair behind your ear while you sit at the kitchen island, only standing when a woman with shoulder-length black hair and chocolate brown eyes, moves around the corner.

Once Phoenix makes eye contact with you, she’s instantly grinning and coming closer to give you a polite hug, introducing herself with her callsign and then her name, telling you to call her by whichever, and settles in on the barstool next to yours.

A blond with perfectly styled hair and a smug smirk follows shortly after Phoenix and quickly scans you from head to toe, smirk deepening (if that’s even possible), Bradley right behind him with a sheepish smile on his face as he looks towards you.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” the blond drawls, he’s a little short compared to Bradley and you take note of his southern drawl, Texan maybe?

Eyes flitting from Bradley back to the blond, you let a sarcastic smile settle on your lips and hum, leaning your arm onto the counter, hand forming a fist as you rest your chin, batting your eyelashes at him, “Bagman, isn’t it?”

Nat snuffs out a laugh, hiding her smile behind her hand as she looks at you.

“Hangman, actually.”

“That’s not what I heard,” you retort back, smile staying stationary on your lips, challenging him.

“Oh, I like you,” Nat grins. “I like her” she states, turning to give Bradley a pointed look.

Hangman breaks the stare down choosing to look towards Bradley instead, “I like her too.”

Rolling your eyes at the statement you also turn to Bradley, tongue coming out to swipe across your bottom lip as you point a finger towards Hangman, “I can learn to tolerate him.”

Bradley lets out a chuckle moving to grab a set of beers from the fridge huffing out an, “We all do that, Sweets” the room erupting into laughter at the expense of Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

Somehow over the course of the night you and Nat had made your way over to the couch, her sipping on a Heineken and you on a coke, leaving the boys to their own devices in the kitchen.

“So, how long did you say you’ve been roommates again?” Hangman questioned, nodding over to you, toying with the perspiration sweating off his beer bottle.

Bradley brings his beer up to his lips slowly, “About a year now, were good friends” taking a sip after he answers.

Jake hums, “And how long have you been lying to yourself about that second part?”

Bradley whips his head towards Jake, eyebrows pinching at his suggestion, “What?”

Huffing Jake turns his attention from the couch where both you and Natasha have started gossiping about some picture on your phone, back to Bradley, “Bradshaw, when’s the last time you went on a date with a girl, or even hooked up with one?”

Jake is met with silence from the naval aviator, and takes a sip from his beer, “That’s my point. You like her man.”

Bradley leans on the countertop, eyes focusing on the way your eyes light up at something Phoenix says, your giggles filling the space of your shared apartment and making him suppress a fond smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, we’re just roommates, Bagman.”

Jake watches Bradley watching you, a knowing smile breaking his smug façade, then he moves to sip at his beer, glancing back over to you and Nat, “Whatever you say Bradshaw.”

From the way the wind and rain were whipping against the windows of your apartment, you’d think you were dealing with a stage three hurricane, but according to the weatherman it was just a bad storm. Maybe someone should double check his certification.

Every few minutes thunder would rumble, ricocheting off your apartment complex, shaking the building, and sending you into another gathering frenzy. Moving around the apartment in a flurry, you grab the collection of candles you’ve been hoarding and any lighters you can find.

In your rush, you don’t hear Bradley enter the apartment, too busy with collecting all of the necessary items.

Bradley smiles as you pass by him, oversized tee flowing behind you, socks making you skid on the hardwood floors of your apartment as you spread the abundance of candles throughout the living space.

“What are you doing?”

A shriek escapes your lips, narrowly avoiding dropping three candles as you recompose yourself, straightening your back you let out an exasperated breath. Placing the remaining candles down onto the side table you huff, “What does it look like I’m doing?” You turn to face Bradley, who looks like he’s soaked from head to toe; he must’ve left his flight suit at the base today since he’s sporting just a black tee and his workout shorts, “I’m preparing for our inevitable demise.” You exaggerate.

Bradley chuckles at your dramatic opinion of the weather, “I don’t think fifty candles are gonna help us sweetheart.”

You give him a reprimanding look, groaning as you say, “No but they’ll help with our vision whenever the power goes out. And some of us, are afraid of the dark.”

Bradley’s smile softens at your admission and angles himself toward the foyer table, reaching into one of the drawers and pulling out the flashlight you’d been looking for. Turning to you and giving it a little wave in an effort to make you feel better.

You smile at his thoughtfulness, “I’ve been looking for that everywhere.”

Giving the flashlight a light toss, Bradley chuckles, “And looking in all the wrong spots apparently.”

Another round of thunder rattles the apartment, making you jump, eyes flashing with fear for a moment. Bradley raises his eyebrows at your reaction and sets the flashlight on the kitchen island.

“You okay?”

You turn to him, giving a small nod, “Yeah, I’m fine. Storms don’t normally bother me but this one just feels like it’s closer to a hurricane than a regular storm.”

Bradley nods at your statement, “You gonna be okay if I take a quick shower?”

Throwing your hand up nonchalantly, you wave him off, “I’ll be fine, probably gonna light a few candles and start a new book.”

His eyes wander the expansion of your face, looking for any cracks in your calm and collected façade you’re putting up. Not finding any, he rationalizes that he’ll only be gone for ten minutes tops, and can coax you into cozying up on the couch to watch another episode of “The Witcher” once he’s finished.

Shooting a reassuring smile your way he side steps out of your way to head to the shower, “I’ll be out shortly sweetheart!”

Shaking your head, you force yourself to move again throughout the apartment, huffing as you grab a case of water and set it on the island.

Standing at the entryway to your home you play with a strand of hair nervously, studying the progress you’ve made throughout the space, giving a decisive nod of approval, before heading off to your room to pick a book and grab a few extra blankets to set on the couch.

The wind has picked up even more now, making the patter of rain on the window hit with a force you thought for sure resembled hail. Shivering at the thought, you clutch your collection of blankets closer to your body and make your way back out to the living room, throwing yourself down on the couch and cuddling into your favorite throw pillow, snuggling under the blankets.

Another loud boom of thunder rattles your building, making you let out a soft whimper in response, snuggling further into the couch for comfort. In an effort to calm yourself down you reach across the cushions to grab the pink book peeking out from the collection of blankets, totally abandoned in your haste to hide from the thunder.

You thumb through the first few pages until you see the intricate curvature of the words “Chapter One” typed at the top of the page and immediately immerse yourself into another world of fiction. And within five minutes, you’ve completely forgotten about the raging storm outside, the sharp beating of the rain on the window turning into a dull thumping as your eyes scan the pages in front of you.

Bradley curses to himself at the amount of time he’s spent in the shower, quickly stepping out and drying himself off, throwing on a white tee and his favorite gray sweatpants. Hanging his towel back on his hook, he swiftly opens the door and takes long strides to the living room, reaching his hand around the hallway entrance and poking his head out to see where you’ve scurried off to.

Momentarily panicking when he doesn’t pinpoint your exact location, until his eyes zone in on your blanketed figure on the couch. A grin splits his lips, and he bites the bottom one to contain his chuckle, you’re reading that new book you were talking about, but the way you’ve huddled into the blankets reminds him of the alien from E.T. all wrapped up with only your head being visible.

Sidling up to the frame of the hallway he folds his arms over his chest, shaking his head as he calls out your name. Actually, letting out a chuckle this time when you don’t acknowledge him.

“You good over there, sweetheart?” he tries again.

This time you do look up, and his heart clenches at the sight of your wide eyes, “Shit! I’m sorry Bradley, how long have you been trying to get my attention?”

“Not long sweets, don’t worry about it.” He juts his chin towards the tv, “What do you think about a few episodes of ‘The Witcher’?”

Glancing down at your book you think about it for a second, it was starting to get interesting but you could never say no to Bradley or “Geralt of Rivia”. So you smile and push the blanket off of your head, “You know,” you clicked your tongue, “I’m starting to think you like this show way more than I do.”

Bradley scoffs, “Definitely not, I’m only suggesting it because there’s nothing else worthy of watching on that godforsaken streaming service.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “just admit it Bradshaw.”

And just as Bradley opens his mouth to give you some smart retort back, a loud crack echoes throughout the room, and the power flickers off. You suppress a scream and instead resort to a quiet whimper.

“Shit sweetheart, are you okay?” Bradley calls.

You bite down on your lower lip and close your eyes to avoid looking into the void of darkness that’s encompassed your apartment, “Not really,” you breathe out.

Bradley goes quiet for a second, trying to make the moment lighthearted in an attempt to make you feel better, “All those candles and you didn’t light any of them huh?”

An offended scoff that closely resembles a whine leaves your lips, “Seriously Bradley.”

“Hey, I’m just pointing out the obvious, sweets” Bradley teases.

“At least I thought about this happening and got us prepared,” you sputter out. “Some of us were too busy washing their mustache to care” you sneer, eyes still screwed tightly shut.

Bradley pinches his eyebrows, “Hey now, no hating on the stache.”

“Bradley I can’t see anything and it’s really loud so I’m sorry, but the feelings of your mustache are not on my list of priorities right now” You huff.

“Okay well then how about we try to find the lighter so we can actually see in here?”

“Fantastic idea Bradshaw, best one you’ve had all night,” your tone exaggerated, moving your hands to aid in pushing yourself up from the couch.

Letting out a puff of air, Bradley ignores your comment and starts using his hand to navigate through the living room, hoping he’s getting close to the couch, bumping his knee into what he thinks is the side table, letting out a low groan.

“You okay over there, showoff?” you call out, taking a few tentative steps forward.

“Yeah,” he grunts, “I’m fine.”

You nod your head in understanding and mumble out a quiet, “Okay, good.”

Bradley moves forward again, maneuvering around what he thinks is the coffee table. He can hear your shaky breaths so he’s almost a hundred percent sure he’s a few steps away from the couch.

Growing a little bolder you take two steps forward, which proves fatal as you end up tripping over what felt like a shoe, forcing you to stumble forward in an attempt to catch your footing, throwing your hands out to avoid crashing into anything, only for them to land on Bradley’s warm and hard chest.

Not quite balanced yet, you stumble forward a bit more, Bradley grabbing your wrist in hopes to help steady you, pulling you closer to him in the process.

You haven’t been able to see since the power went out, but having him this close allows you to see the outline of his face and the sparkle of his eyes, your breath hitches in your throat at your proximity and it all becomes overwhelmingly intimate.

Looking away from his profile into the darkness, you momentarily forget about the fear of the storm and instead are distracted by the very muscular, very attractive man; that is your roommate, currently holding you.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” Bradley whispers.

Closing your eyes, you turn your head and force a shaky breath out from your lips, “Yeah, just tripped over a shoe or something.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He mumbles, voice a little raspier than normal.

Shit.

Your eyes shoot open, your head tilting back to face him, “If you’re referring to the fact that it’s darker than a black hole in here right now, then no, I’m not okay, I would really appreciate at least one of those candles being lit right about now.”

Another roll of thunder crashes into your living room, echoing along the walls and through your chest, making you press further into Bradley’s firm hold.

Closing your eyes again you huff, “I’m sorry.”

Bradley moves the hand that doesn’t have a grip on your wrist around your back, tugging you into his warm embrace, “You have nothing to be sorry for sweetheart,” he reassures, resting his chin on top of your head as he speaks.

You sigh, allowing yourself just for a moment, to enjoy how close he is right now. Just roommates you remind yourself.

“I swear I’m not usually this bad with them,” you mumble against his chest, referring to the raging storm outside.

Bradley’s chuckle rumbles through his chest, nodding his head in understanding, “Where do you think that lighter is right about now?”

“I have no idea, maybe on the island? That’s where I put the majority of stuff.” You mumble, placing your hands flat against him to aid in inching yourself away from his chest.

Bradley hums, keeping a firm grip on your wrist as he steps back slowly towards the kitchen, pulling you with him. “Okay,” he nods, “Lets focus on getting the flashlight and then the lighter. That sound okay with you?”

Feeling the way his thumb is rubbing small circles into your skin, you whisper out a “Yeah,” gulping down your nerves that are so frazzled you’re not sure if it’s from the storm, or from how tender he’s being.

Taking a few more short steps; with Bradley leading the way, the two of you eventually make it to the kitchen island. Bradley letting your hand go in favor of roaming his over the countertop, blindly searching for the flashlight while you focus on finding the lighter. After what seems like hours, Bradley announces his accomplishment and flicks the button on the metal piece of the flashlight, a beam of light hitting your pupils making you flinch and close your eyes. Bradley cursed under his breath in apology, moving the light down towards the countertop in search of the lighter, allowing you to reopen your eyes and get accustomed to the new source of light.

Eyes scanning over your pile of necessities, you spot the lighter peeking out from behind one of the candles.

“Found it,” you sigh in relief.

Bradley’s eyes pan over to you from where he’s standing, watching as you reach past an emerald, green candle that has a picture of the woods wrapped around it; the words “sandalwood” in some typewriter font scribbled at the top, and pull the lighter out of the dark and into the beam of light coming from the flashlight.

Meeting Bradley’s eyes you shoot him a soft smile, giving the lighter a little wave, “Lets light these candles.”

A soft chuckle rumbles through Bradley’s chest while he shakes his head in amusement, “Leave it to you to make a ‘The Boys’ reference.”

You smile, turning away from him as you grab the same emerald, green candle that he was just looking at, clicking the lighter on and pushing it against the wick, “It’s not my fault okay, there’s some great one-liners in there. I just so happen to be capable of altering it to fit our scenario.”

The sky rumbles shortly after your statement and has you kicking into gear, setting the newly lit candle back down onto the island and moving swiftly throughout the apartment, lighting as many candles as you can to brighten up the room, but also not enough to be a fire hazard.

Lighting the last cream-colored candle by the couch, you straighten up and turn towards the room to look at your handiwork, Bradley standing next to you doing the same as he clicks the flashlight off. A soft yellow glow has settled in different areas of the living room and kitchen, the areas surrounding it darker, the further away you get from the candles. “I think that’s good enough.” You murmur, arms crossing over themselves while you scan the space.

Bradley hums in approval, moving an arm around your shoulder and tugging you closer to him.

“What do you wanna do now sweetheart?” Bradley’s voice is soft as he asks his question, allowing his thumb to rub small circles onto your deltoid. It’s comforting.

Allowing your guard to slip, you lean further into his body, turning your head up to look at him, whispering, “Can you sit with me on the couch while I read?” Eyes flickering towards the darkness of your room before returning to his gaze, “I just don’t want to be by myself right now.” You mumble.

And for what feels like the millionth time in the past year, Bradley’s heart skips at your confession, his mouth wanting to grin at just how cute you are and pull you into his chest. Instead, however, he settles for a soft smile and a, “Anything for you sweetheart.”

Gripping your shoulder tighter, he pulls you back towards the comfort of the couch making himself comfortable as he settles into the cushions, allowing you to leave his embrace to grab your book. But once you try to sit back at the opposite end of the couch, Bradley immediately grips your wrist and tugs you back to him.

“You’re gonna end up here anyway, sweetheart, just sit with me.” He rasps out, his warm breath hitting your ear, making you shiver.

Not trusting your words, you hum in response, letting him guide you back into his chest, propping your knees up to rest your book on them as you open it, conveniently landing on the page you had last read.

Somewhere in your brain a little voice was screaming at you that this isn’t what normal roommates do, getting a little louder once Bradley hooked his left arm around your waist, but an even louder voice was telling you just to enjoy it while you could. And in the end, what did it matter anyway? You were going to read and the two of you would part ways once the power came back on to your respective beds and everything would go back to normal. So, what’s the harm in lying here with him now?

The thunder was still rolling outside along with the sharp gusts of wind, but now that you were reading in Bradley’s arms you honestly couldn’t hear it anymore. And what felt like a few short minutes, turned into three hours, your eyes growing heavy, almost dropping the book on your face once you started to nod off.

Becoming mildly alert, you shift your body upwards to set your book on the coffee table, turning to tell Bradley you were going to bed, only to see him peacefully sleeping with his head tilted back onto the throw pillow, right arm flexed behind to support his head as he slept.

Smiling softly to yourself you shake your head and move to get up to go sleep in your bed, only to be anchored down by Bradley’s arm.

Frowning, you grab his hand with yours and begin to try and peel it away from you, Bradley’s grip only growing tighter and successfully pulling you back against him, your hand promptly landing on his chest to avoid faceplanting into it.

Just when you were about to make a second attempt Bradley’s raspy voice rings loud in your ears, “Stop trying to leave me.” He grumbles. Eyes still closed he brings his second arm around your back and pulls you tight against his chest, “Just stay.”

Biting your bottom lip at his drowsy statement, you try to pull your body away from him again, his arms only squeezing tighter around you. “Bradshaw, I need to go to bed,” you huff. Bradley pushes his body further down the couch, keeping you in place as he makes himself comfortable, “Sleep here” he mumbles.

Jesus Christ he’s gonna put you in an early grave.

You allow your eyes to examine his face, the way that his eyelashes touch the tops of his cheeks, sweeping over the tiny freckles littering his face, and stopping at the curve of his lips. Goddamnit. Shaking your head, you squeeze your eyes shut, you can’t do this.

“Bradley” you whisper, voice shaky as you break your gaze from his face and focus on the flickering candlelight, “I really can’t sleep here.”

This pulls him from his drowsy state almost instantaneously and has him fluttering his eyes open, blinking a few times to bring his gaze into focus.

His thumb has a mind of its own it seems, since you feel it push under the fabric of your t-shirt and rub your skin in small circular motions, biting your bottom lip to refrain from doing anything rash, a small “Bradley,” slips past your lips, tone warning.

He doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he brings his other hand up to your face and forces your gaze back to him. It’s quiet as the two of you stare at each other, blood rushing in your ears over the silence that’s only broken by the distant roar of thunder.

Sighing, you start to move your body backwards to put some distance between the two of you, “Bradley, I need to go to- “, your sentence is cut off by Bradley, who’s pulled you down and collided his lips with your own. Your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of his lips on yours, a moment passing before you understand what’s happening and push your lips against his.

The hand that Bradley has resting against your cheek pulls you further against him, fingers curling around the nape of your neck to keep you close, as you melt into the kiss, his lips caressing yours, mustache tickling your upper lip as they slot together over and over again, until you pull away to catch your breath.

Your eyes flutter open, reconnecting with Bradley’s. His honey-brown eyes have a certain glow behind them as he takes you in, leaning forward to recapture your lips with his own, “Stay.”

Closing your eyes again, you push your lips against his, letting them linger there for a moment before you lean back, and whisper out a breathy, “Okay.”

A soft, adoring smile pulls at Bradley’s lips, giving his head a short nod as he leans the two of you back, settling himself into the couch cushions while you pull your grandma’s knitted blanket off the back of the couch and over the two of you. Nuzzling yourself into his neck, placing a few chaste kisses along the scars that have made homage there. Slipping your hand under his white t-shirt while you mutter, “Just so you know,” another kiss, “I will be milking the fuck out of this.”

Bradley lets out a chuckle, kissing the top of your head briefly before closing his eyes, “Wouldn’t have it any other way, sweetheart.”

Two Weeks Later

Nat and Jake had come over again for another dinner night. This time, you chose to make dinner, a simple “lasagna roll-up” recipe you found on pinterest that has never failed you when it came to impressing guests.

Bradley and Jake were sitting at the kitchen island, mulling over the salad Bradley had just finished tossing while Jake gave him “pointers”, occasionally stealing glances at the two women sitting on the couch, deep in gossip.

Every now and then you’d look over and send Bradley a soft smile, until Natasha grabbed your attention with another story of the shenanigans that had taken place earlier on base. Jake watching the love-sick expression on Bradley’s face, and stewing in the knowledge that Bradley Bradshaw had it bad for you; just like Jake had told him he was several weeks ago.

“Took you long enough Bradshaw,” Jake poked, bringing the beer he’d been holding up to his lips and taking a sip, smirk prominent on his face.

Bradley spared Jake a glance before returning his attention back to you, clicking his tongue, “When are you gonna tell Phoenix how you feel, Seresin?”

Jake’s eyes flicked to Nat’s figure currently relaxing on the gray couch, not giving anything away, keeping his expression in his traditional cocky smirk, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Rooster.” Taking another sip of his beer, Jake moves his body off the stool and towards the living room, sitting himself down ungracefully next to Nat, her throwing an irritated look at him.

Rooster suppresses a chuckle at his teammates and shakes his head before moving himself to sit next to you, easing his arm around your shoulder, you relaxing into his embrace immediately.

Jake leans onto the arm of couch, permanent smirk etched onto his lips, “Okay I gotta know. What got you hooked on our very own ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw?”

Nat smacks Jake’s wrist and immediately reprimands him with an annoyed “and this is why we only tolerate you, Bagman” while you sit there, a blushing mess, as Bradley rubbed small circles into your shoulder.

You mull it over in your head for a second while Nat continues to reprimand Jake before you speak up, “Honestly?”

Everyone goes quiet at your consideration of Jake’s question, apart from Jake who lets his famous smirk return to his face, “I’d love to hear the honest answer.”

You look up at the ceiling briefly, cheeks flushing as you mumble, “Definitely the mustache.”

The room immediately erupts into laughter, Jake and Nat rushing out questions at a million miles a second, while you cover your face in embarrassment.

Bradley just chuckles to himself and pulls your face into his side, kissing the top of your head, emphasizing the rub of his mustache against your forehead, making you burrow further into his side.

“Just Roommates my ass!”

#bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #topgun maverick #topgun fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagines

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silkscream · 4 months

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CHAPTER 1: I'LL BE YOUR PLASTIC TOY

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

Satoru Gojo was a lot of things, but he would never be yours. Sleeping with him in his bed as a child didn’t grant you that kind of closeness anymore. Within these halls, you walk past each other like strangers.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: angst, suggestiveness, making out, light bullying

ੈ✩ wc: 5.5k

ੈ✩ a/n: i am here to ruin everyone's lives. apologies in advance

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

March, 2008

“Hey, Twigs. Wanna see something cool?”

His honeyed voice chills your spine, his breath warm right by your ear. You roll your eyes as you turn to face Satoru, grinning with all his teeth as he tugs at your wrist.

“What is it, Satoru?” you sigh.

“You have to follow meee,” he sings, pulling you away from the table you’re setting and towards the side of the porch. It’s secluded. Private. “Bring the spoon.”

With furrowed brows, you oblige. It isn’t like you have a choice. You had followed him around like a puppy ever since you’d met him as a child. You continue to, regardless of your determination to separate yourself from him.

His favorite shadow. His little pet.

The two of you aren’t as close as you were when you were children, but it’s still impossible to refuse him when he has a request. You blame it on your mother and her professionalism. You figure you had inherited it from her. That hyper-politeness. You find that you blame the ocean blue of his eyes more often. Always sparkling.

He walks a few feet away from you, still grinning. You blink at his tall figure. He's currently dressed in a baby blue dress shirt (sleeves rolled up, of course) and black slacks. His Sunday best for the fancy brunch at the Gojo Estate. Every April, your mother summons you to help set up, then rewards you with a plate and time to play with the other kids. She would continue her work, serving the family and their guests. You would pretend that you weren’t part of the staff.

There hadn’t been a point in you staying for the afternoon in years. Only if Satoru begged you to, and even then, he hadn’t bothered to do so since junior high.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” you huff, crossing your arms. You wipe your sweaty hands on your smock.

“I’d never let you get in trouble, you know that,” he smirks. “Now, throw the spoon at me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“I want to throw way more than a spoon at you right now.”

“Relax, Twigs. Do this for me. Please?” he pouts. You can see his bright blue eyes peeking out of his black sunglasses, framed by snow-white lashes. It was unfair how pretty he was. How easily he could persuade you.

Sighing, you throw the spoon in his direction. It stops right in front of his face as if there’s an invisible wall. He laughs in victory when he sees your confused expression.

“What was that?”

“My Infinity. I’ve perfected it so that it’s automatic. Took me a lot of willpower before but now it’s as easy as breathing.”

“Congratulations,” you reply dryly.

It was typical of Satoru to be invincible. Untouchable. It had been a quality of his since birth, now manifested into a literal power to aid him against threats. You’d been on the outskirts of such threats when you were younger, but Satoru would always spare you the details.

Watching him grow in his adolescence had been like watching a sprout bloom. It shot toward the sky exponentially until it became a tree in record time. You, meanwhile, were still a sprout. A window, they’d called it. Able to see the horrors produced by human nature but unable to do anything about it.

Your head snaps up, alert when you hear your mother yelling your name from the porch. She points a hard gaze at you, then softens it when she sees Satoru.

“Satoru-kun, do you mind if I steal her for a minute? I need some extra hands for the tamagoyaki.”

Satoru nods, expressing his courtesy to your mother in his usual charming poise. It used to work on you before, but it often irks you now. The way he dazzles people to get what he wants. You would rather die than admit it was a characteristic of his that you envied.

He tugs at your braid before you walk away.

“See you later, Twigs,” he calls after you. A playful lilt to his voice.

“You won’t.”

Satoru has you memorized. Since the two of you were five years old, he considered you his mirror image, though you never believed him.

Often, when he sees you now, his heart leaps the tiniest bit in his chest the same way it did when he was thirteen. He’s gotten better at ignoring it. He’s perfected the art of ignoring you ever since high school started.

He likes to indulge during times when you’re not looking. At the moment, you’re concentrated on a flower arrangement, a blush painted on your cheeks from the heat. He’d watch you do this when you were kids, too. Your face would be in a concentrated frown, tongue peeking out. Nimble fingers perfecting an ikebana arrangement.

Sometimes he missed it. He decided long ago that it would be better if he didn’t.

You two had been inseparable since the day the Gojos' hired your mother as a maid. He remembered you hiding behind your mother’s legs, chewing on the end of one of your braids. You would stay in the guest house of the Gojo estate with your mother, and you would become Satoru’s best companion.

Both of your mothers would arrange playdates. Satoru’s mother wanted him out of her hair. Your mother wanted to work without your constant interruptions. You were needy, an only child, but Satoru would always please you with his company. It was why you adored him.

He’d show you all his toys and teach you all the games that his extended family would show him to make you feel included. He’d have you sleep in his bed, which would go under the radar until the two of you were fourteen. It would be innocent and wholesome. Satoru would show you the stars he’d learned about and you would look at him as if he’d hung them in the sky himself.

Satoru often reminisces about the shape of your body to this day. Sometimes, he misses it when he’s alone in his king-sized bed in the winter. Even with the heat on, there’s still something missing, and then he thinks of you.

When you were kids, you’d sleep together, legs and arms intertwined. Drool on the same pillow. Wake up to an abundance of pancakes from your mother.

You had been half a friend, half a plaything. Satoru’s counterpart. Feet kicking each other under the breakfast table.

At age five, you’d seen the same curse together. A harmless thing, chameleon-like, with eight legs on each side. It had a nasty face, one that you had recognized from your nightmares. It had been exciting at first, knowing that you shared the same ability as your best friend. You believed that you would grow with him and become as talented as him.

But that was an exaggeration. Satoru's parents knew how isolating it would be for their son to be the strongest. Your technique never came.

Satoru acted as your protector, then. Expelled the small, vicious curses in the corners of your room like they were bugs. You’d watch him train, his body overgrowing with knobby knees as you sat on the sidelines. And while you grew up with him, you only got smaller in his periphery. Always lesser. Always weaker.

It’s the reason you’d grown apart. At least that’s what he tells himself.

Satoru had grown into a tall, arrogant child. He treated school as a hobby and still made the highest marks, which angered you to no end. It didn’t matter to him, anyway, knowing that he’d become a company's CEO or the best jujutsu sorcerer in the world. He had his future in the palm of his hands. You were not a part of that. You weren’t even sure of a future of your own.

Sometimes he would have nightmares of you dying in his arms at the hands of a curse too big for him to control. During adolescence, he experienced many threats to his safety. He knew he couldn't live with himself. He couldn’t bear to see you endure the same.

So, without explanation, Satoru Gojo pretended you didn’t exist. He exchanged the necessary niceties in school and when you'd come over with your mother, though he'd never ask you to stay the same way he had when you were kids. He was often occupied with new friends, anyway. Often busy working on his technique. Nothing that was your business, of course.

You resented him for it.

Now, you’re enduring your last year of high school with him, and you are trying so badly to be good. You should aim to make good enough marks to attend a decent university on a decent scholarship. God knows you aren’t fit for the world of jujutsu sorcery.

In a way, you’re okay with the mundanity of your life. Satoru’s absence in your heart convinced you of that.

Satoru’s attendance at school is only an illusion of normalcy for his parents. His mother insists on it. Barely a sorcerer herself, she had wanted to give her son the option of living a normal life. With his grades and wit, she knew that he could easily be successful as a businessman or a doctor.

Despite this, Satoru knew he would enroll in Tokyo’s Jujutsu Technical College with Suguru. He had met Suguru when he was fifteen, trying to exorcise a curse that only got snatched by a dark-haired thief, one who would end up as his best friend.

Satoru saw Suguru as his only equal. He had no one else to relate to about jujutsu sorcery.

Certainly not you.

But still, he was closing another year of high school, his last. Then he could be free from his parents’ restraints. It was easy for him to be the best and make the most friends. It was a shame that he’d have to leave them all behind.

You’re a ghost in Satoru’s wake. Always near, never faltering yet never consuming too much space. As the school year progresses, he ignores you like a mosquito bite. Harmless but still itching his skin. Always reminded of your presence even when you do nothing to draw attention to yourself.

And then there are times that you do.

“I’m sorry, sensei,” you mumble, stunned in the doorway of the classroom.

It’s a nondescript weekday in May, one that’s wet with rain, which explains your damp hair and clothes. Your appearance conjures a succession of snickers. The sound of low laughter taunting you and whispers gossiping about you.

You’re too tired for it. You don’t want to be here at all.

“I’m disappointed,” your teacher relays. “You’re usually never tardy.”

“It won’t happen again,” you muster.

You hear more whispers. It hangs on your shoulders as you sit in your seat, still and heavy as you attempt to take notes.

Should’ve worn something more sheer, than she’d get the attention she wants, huh?

Nah, not like her tits are even good enough to be seen like that.

Bet she’s hiding something from all of us. Maybe we can get her to strip in the girls’ locker room and give us a show later.

“Shut the fuck up,” a voice growls. You hear it, turning your head, and your eyes fall on Satoru’s fiery blues.

You wonder if the feeling of his gaze searing into the back of your head is worth mentioning. It makes your face hotter, the flush of humiliation warming your neck as your peers snicker at you.

You manage to get through class without crying. Haru, a boy you were closer with in previous years, offers his sweatshirt to you as you collect your things.

“She’s good,” Satoru interrupts as you strip off your damp sweater. Within seconds, he has you under his arm. He ushers you out the classroom door. His oversized jacket drapes over your shoulders.

“Gojo,” you hiss. “He was just being nice.”

“Or he wanted to see you in a wet t-shirt. I don’t think white was the best move for today, by the way.”

Your face heats up when you look down. You realize the extent of skin that’s visible from the sheerness of your damp white shirt. It mortifies you more when you realize that Satoru had caught it first.

“Right. Thanks,” you mumble, hiking up your bookbag tighter on your shoulder.

“So helpless sometimes,” Satoru sighs. He shoots you a devilish smile that combats your scowling frown. “Why don’t you call me by my first name here?”

“Because we’re in school and it’s polite.”

"Twigs, are you scared of being associated with me?"

He blocks the door of your locker, leaning against it and towering over you. Satoru had always taken up as much space as possible without a care in the world. You were the opposite -– always compartmentalizing yourself to be smaller. Malleable. Amicable.

He’s too close for comfort, nearly breathing down your neck. He only moves when you kick him pathetically in the shin.

Satoru’s smile only grows bigger as you ignore him. He wonders if he could get your fuse to blow in front of him right now. This place is usually where you’re composed, regal, and expedient. One of the school’s top students.

He knew you had an edge to you, wild as you were when he had known you as a child. But you had only grown to be responsible and sensible. He thinks that his mother would be relieved if he acted more like you.

“Coming home with me or what?” Satoru quips. The way he says it makes your stomach stir. It's an almost salacious suggestion despite its innocence. Satoru always made everything sound more exciting than it was.

“Why would I?” you raise a brow.

“My mother would like to see you. She told me she had some hand-me-downs for you to try on." You know I’d love nothing more than to see you parade around my house dressed like my mother in the 70s.” He grins in amusement.

“Okay, sure, whatever.”

“Yo, Satoru!”

His head whips around to see one of his buddies, crowded around other jocks. Satoru is quick to leave you without so much as a goodbye.

July, 2008

After your semester, you end up second to Satoru. It’s no surprise to you despite how much it infuriates you. You are never anything more or less.

"Congratulations, Twigs," Satoru murmurs to you. He startles you from your thoughts. You slam your locker closed.

“Why are you still calling me that?”

“Because you’re my Twigs,” he pouts.

Yours. It’s a funny lie. Satoru Gojo was a lot of things, but he would never be yours. Sleeping with him in his bed as a child didn’t grant you that kind of closeness anymore. Within these halls, you walk past each other like strangers.

He pouts childishly like he always does. There’s a devilish spark in his blue eyes underneath his sunglasses, though you can barely make out his irises from his height. Satoru’s growth spurt had him at over six feet tall by the time he was sixteen. It was obvious that he’d only grow taller.

You scoff, rolling your eyes at the nickname. If you were in middle school again, the notion would warm your heart. It had been a stupid nickname he’d tease you with ever since you were both ten. You had been angry at him for reasons that escaped you, climbing up the tree in the backyard of his estate as high as you could until he begged you to come down.

You wouldn’t, of course. You were always stubborn like that, and Satoru loved it.

You were also much clumsier when you were ten, slipping your foot as you attempted to climb a different branch and falling into Satoru’s arms. It had been a miracle you didn’t break any bones, but thanks to Satoru’s freakish strength, you were unharmed. Only disheveled with leaves and twigs stuck in your frizzy hair. He had called you Twigs ever since.

“I’m not your anything. Even if my mother is still your fucking maid.”

“Aren’t you my maid, too? My little servant?” he teases.

You wonder if he knows how cruel it is, even if it’s a little joke.

“I’m nothing to you,” you mumble. You attempt to hold a faster stride on your walk home. Maybe you’d advance enough to leave him in the dust. You could be the best runner on the track team if you managed that.

But you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t leave him, couldn’t. Not a chance.

“What was that?” Satoru calls after you.

“Nothing!”

“Slow down,” he whines, running fast enough to follow your stride, much to your annoyance. Him and his stupid, long legs. His taunting smile. “Don’t you wanna come over?”

“Why would I?”

“Your mom’s probably there. And we can celebrate the end of exams.”

“I have… stuff to do,” you stammer.

“No, you don’t,” Satoru chuckles. “The semester’s over. Summer’s here, baby.”

“Don’t call me that!”

He laughs again, the sound twinkling in your ears like a beloved song. It makes your cheeks warm. You don’t want him to see it.

Yet, he wraps his arms around you, chin nestled to your collarbone as if you were joined together. In a blink, the two of you are in his kitchen, with whiplash only an after-effect. You still hadn’t gotten used to his ability to warp.

“I hate when you do that.”

“You like it, I know you do,” Satoru taunts. “It excites you. I can tell because your cheeks get all flushed.”

“They do not!”

“Sure, they don’t, Twigs.”

“You’re annoying,” you huff, dropping your school bag on a chair.

Satoru greets your mother with a kiss on the cheek as you follow behind him. She has tea prepared in the sitting room for you and him, along with dorayaki and matcha Swiss rolls.

“Your mom’s the fucking best,” he muses as he gobbles down a third roll. You watch him in feigned disgust. Sipping your tea, you mumble something unintelligible in agreement.

“What, you aren’t hungry?”

“No.”

“Try this.”

“I have. She’s my mom.”

“C’mon, Twigs, open up.”

Satoru leans over the table with a Swiss roll between his fingers, waving it in front of your face. There’s no point in protesting -– he’d probably knock something over from his eagerness to annoy you. You part your lips to take a bite, and at the same time, he shoves it into your mouth.

“Satoru!” you groan.

“Stay still.”

You swallow your bite and he wipes his fingertips on the corner of your mouth. He’s close enough to feel your breath on his face, licking up the frosting on his thumb nonchalantly. He chuckles at the flustered look painting your face into a scowl.

“I’m done. I’m going to do the dishes.”

You excuse yourself to retreat to the kitchen before you can so much as make eye contact with Satoru again. He has to be teasing you with his small touches. It’s something he would’ve done when you were twelve, yet the notion now would be different.

The two of you were in completely different social spheres. He had separated himself from you years prior. It would be a rare sight for him to be so touchy with you in public, acting as if you were like him.

Someone who had a big kitchen. Someone who didn’t have to think about expenses.

It’s a miracle that he leaves you alone as you clean the kitchen, washing dishes to keep your mind occupied. After you’re done, you decide to cut up a bowl of strawberries. You knew they were Satoru’s favorite. Knowing him, he’d still crave something sweet after demolishing all the desserts.

You nick yourself. A careless act — you aren’t paying attention, mistaking the sharp side of the knife for the dull one. It slices the inside of your thumb. Cursing under your breath, you hover your hand over the wound. You heal it within milliseconds without so much as a second thought.

This is when Satoru kicks at something. The wall or a potted plant, you don’t know. But it’s a plea for attention and it brings your focus to him, your head snapping up to meet his gaze and his childish pout.

“I saw that,” he says, lowly.

You freeze under his scrutiny. You don’t say anything.

“So you’ve been lying to me.” It’s a seething accusation instead of a question.

He gets so close to you without you even noticing. He towers over you again, swallowed by the whole of his shadow, and his betrayed frown is petulant like a child’s.

“Satoru—”

“You said you didn’t have a cursed technique.”

“I—I didn’t. Not until later—”

“When?”

Your eyes are wide as you look up at him, hands trembling. He takes a step forward, taking up more space. It reminds you of your worth. The mere fact of him belittles you in that way.

“When I was thirteen. My kitten, Aki. The stray. You remember him, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“He got hit by a car one day, and I couldn’t stop sobbing. And I was holding him in my hands all bloody. And then, I brought him back to life. It just happened.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You search Satoru’s face. There’s a bit of betrayal in it, mostly surprise. It boils your blood in the slightest bit — because why is it so shocking that you ended up with a cursed technique? You may have hidden it from him for a few years, but was it something so unimagined for you?

You assumed that you would always be a plaything in Satoru’s eyes. Something so easy, so useless.

“It wasn’t enough,” you exasperate.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. None of it does, Satoru. It’s so—”

Insignificant. Small compared to you.

He waits, swallowing the lump in his throat. Eyes flaring like comets.

“It doesn’t matter,” you repeat. “I don’t even want to be a sorcerer, and even if I wanted to be, I could never keep up with you. I don’t see the point in pursuing this if I’m better off just studying at a normal university—”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Your technique is amazing. It’s like Shoko’s! You could’ve —”

“Satoru,” you emphasize. Your tone shuts him up, your hardened gaze, the lightning in your eyes bright and sharp. Menacing, even. You can sense the sound of him swallowing, a lump lodged in his throat loud enough for you to hear.

White lashes flutter. A frown is still displayed on his face. It’s now that he notices the slight bags under your eyes. Evidence of burden, of nights spent awake under the unforgiving moonlight.

You look at him in a way that feels damning — like you’re coaxing something from him. He knows better — knows that his anger is misplaced, that you’re right.

You having a healing technique is nothing compared to him. Even then, he knows that you probably aren’t interested in combat or the world of jujutsu sorcery in general. It doesn’t affect him so negatively. So what is he so angry about?

The question is in your eyes, pleading. He already knows the answer despite not admitting it to himself. He knows that the prospect of you having a cursed technique doesn’t mean you’re stronger than him. He assumes you wouldn’t surpass him, and wouldn’t think you to be someone who would even think about it.

Satoru knows he’s angry because he feels very close to you. He had at least thought he was close enough with you to know about your cursed technique. It was finding out that you were hiding it from him that made him angry. Learning that you had it manifest in front of you and didn’t bother to fucking tell him about it.

He can’t voice any of these frustrations. He knows you’d yell at him, and criticize him for thinking he’s entitled to you. It’s inappropriate and unfair, but in his younger years, he often felt that he was entitled to you. He’d known you since you were so very little, so vulnerable. He had protected you from all those curses, hadn’t he? He held you in his arms in his bed for years. That had to have meant something to you. It certainly meant something to him.

“Sorry. I just wish you told me earlier,” he says softly.

You apologize. Meek beneath him, eyes avoiding him.

“I know,” you sigh. “I have to go. I’ll see you later, Satoru.”

You don’t see him for a week and a half. It should be typical to you. It’s not like him to reach out or go out of his way to see you. He’d always been like that, giving you no expectations. And yet, his radio silence had crawled under your skin.

It’s stupid to expect him, anyway. There’s no reason for him to show up at yours, much more of a reason for you to show up at his, but you don’t need to. Your mother does that for her job and it has nothing to do with you.

There’s a Tuesday that’s so quiet, so plain that even the rain falters after two hours to only grant the town wet pavement. You’re curled up with a book in your living room when you hear a succession of knocks on your door. An erratic rhythm, the same as the special knock you would use with Satoru.

It’s him, of course. He smirks at you, an oversized t-shirt loose off of his lanky figure. You try not to fixate on the sweat of his exposed collarbone. You look him straight in the eyes through his pitch-black sunglasses.

He has a large bouquet in his hands. He grins at you. For the first time in a little while, you feel brave.

“Confessing your love to me this afternoon, are you?” you pester, a brow raised.

Something like that, Satoru thinks.

“You wish.”

He walks past you, brushing your shoulders much to your annoyance. He sets the bouquet on your kitchen table in its little jar, peonies drooping despite how hard he tries to fix them.

“It’s from my mom to yours. As a thank you and a birthday wish and stuff.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. “That’s very sweet of her.”

He hums in agreement, rocking his heels back and forth as his eyes roam your house. It isn’t his first time here, but he acts the part, hands buried in his pockets as he observes you like a wild animal.

“Will that be all?”

“Dunno,” Satoru shrugs. “What were you up to before I showed up?”

You shrug, too, attempting to mirror his nonchalance. You had long ago buried your paperback in a drawer, promising to return to it by the time Satoru left. But still, he lingers, in front of you, taking up unnecessary space in your childhood home. Too tall and too pretty.

“Just cleaning my room,” you lie.

“Can I see it?”

“Why?”

“Been a while,” he shrugs. “I’m just curious.”

“Well, it’s a mess right now. I didn’t get very far.”

“Like I care,” Satoru chuckles.

He stares at you for a bit, heartbeats passing the time in your head. Fuck, he’s serious. He’s already leaning towards the staircase.

“Okay.”

You’re hyper-aware of him behind you, eyes exploring the length of your body. If you had known that he would show up unannounced, you would’ve changed into one of your long dresses or a pair of jeans. At the moment, you feel too bare in your tank top and corduroy shorts. You feel like a child outgrown.

Satoru takes up as much space as usual, long limbs splayed over your tiny twin bed. You don’t permit him to sit on your bed, but he does it anyway. He looks at the pictures on your wall, takes in the sweet smell of your sheets. It’s similar to your clothes, your flesh. Your hair. He’d live in it if he could.

“How cute.” He gestures to a cat plushie by the head of your bed.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not!” Satoru laughs. “It is cute. It’s so you.”

A certain fervor blossoms in your gut at that. The image of him stretched out on your little bed. Despite your closeness with him when you were younger, he had never spent much time at your house. It took you a few years to understand why.

“You should invite me over more often.”

“I don’t invite you over ever.”

“Well, you could start.”

“Why?” You stand by the wall, shifting your weight towards it as you lean backward. You cross your arms in defense, even though he hasn’t said anything to provoke you yet.

“It’s comfy here. I like it.”

“Thanks?”

He sings your name, beckoning you to him. You take three steps at most, holding your breath. Standing in front of his knees.

“Come sit, Twigs.”

“Told you not to call me that,” you breathe.

“Don’t care,” he grins.

He reaches out to you, pulling you between his knees with a hand on your waist. He smirks at the sound of your gasp as he tugs at your wrist.

“In my lap. C’mere.”

It’s difficult to refuse Satoru Gojo. His eyes drink you in, ocean blues glimmering and reflecting the afternoon sunlight. You’re still between his thighs. He tugs you without much effort, making you stumble into him. Your hands hold onto his shoulders as you settle into his lap. He holds the small of your back as you straddle him.

“Wanna try something.”

You say nothing. Your eyes flutter closed when you feel his fingertips grazing your jaw.

There’s a softness against your mouth. You don’t dare open your eyes.

You sense a sharp inhale behind the lips that kiss you, but they stay. Wetting between your mouth with the slight of a tongue. Tasting sweet like honeysuckle.

You whine, opening your mouth a bit more. You swallow down divinity. It's misguided affection that you had wished for when you were so much smaller. It might mean something bigger to you now if you thought about it for longer. You don’t want to. You refuse to.

But Satoru kisses you hard, excited and eager. His tongue peeks into your mouth and you taste strawberries. Lips soft and supple and melting against yours.

He groans, fisting your hair in his hand as he deepens the kiss, falling more and more into you. He smiles against your mouth as he coaxes a small sound out of you. It crawls out of your throat for him to taste with satisfaction. He’s always dreamed of you in his lap, but he could never tell you that.

You’re breathless, weak, and melting into him as he wraps his arms around you. Caging you in so that you can’t escape. So fucking warm in his embrace.

It takes a second for you to notice the hardness growing underneath you. It prods your center as you mindlessly grind into Satoru’s lap. When you realize, you squeak in embarrassment, and he clutches you harder.

You sigh into each other, eating the other up. Heat surges through you, from your forehead down to your core, to your weak, sensitive legs. Hot from the feeling of him in your mouth. Hot from the proximity of your core to his.

You pull away, exhaling unevenly as you try to catch your breath. You’re shy under his gaze, unwrapping yourself and covering your body as if you’re naked.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re so cute,” he chuckles. “Acting like that was your first kiss.”

“What if it was?”

He raises a brow as you look away with flushed cheeks. You’re still on his lap and he takes the opportunity to remind you of this, shifting you in his lap and causing friction. Your eyes are wide as you quickly attempt to untangle your limbs with his.

“That was your first kiss?”

“Yeah.”

You roll your eyes at the sight of his leering smile. God, you knew this would happen. Satoru would never let you live it down.

“I’m going to kick you out—”

“No.”

He grasps your wrist in his hand. It’s small compared to his palm, engulfing you. His other hand grips your hip firmly but softly. He only moves it to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin.

“How was it? Tell me.”

“Good,” you breathe. “Felt good.”

For the first time in a long time, he looks at you like you have invented something new. There’s a bit of astonishment. Wonder and admiration. Maybe you were getting ahead of yourself. You were easily deluding yourself with the expression of his sapphire blue eyes.

“Felt good for me, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you do that?” you ask, giggling nervously.

“Just wanted to.”

“I want you to kiss me again,” you whisper.

“I want to do more than that,” Satoru mumbles. But he knows better. It’s the best decision for him to get you off his lap right now before he loses composure.

You both hear the sound of your front door opening as if it’s timed -- your mother.

“I’ll kiss you later, okay?” Satoru murmurs.

“You will?”

“My parents will be gone this weekend. To Okinawa. You should come over on Saturday.”

“Okay. I will.”

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #juijutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you

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redflagshipwriter · 1 month

Text

Hot Ghouls in your area ch 6

part 1

Masterpost

Danny felt like something scraped off the pavement. Through an act of absolutely heroic willpower (and outright fear of Jazz trying to help him rebalance his workload) he made it through his morning classes.

He staggered away from campus, brain buzzing tiredly over numbers and formulas and also his accidental concubine.

Nope. He shook his head rigorously. “I need a pick me up,” Danny decided. He ignored the common sense that said ‘coffee isn't going to fix this.’ Sure. That was true. But it wouldn't hurt, would it? And he was way overdue for the first meal of the day.

He shouldered his way into a café near campus. This wasn't one of the most convenient ones or one of the trendy ones with different seeds or organic whatever baked goods on rotation.

Nah. It was dark, mostly empty, and multiple tables were along the wall with nice views of the windows and door. The only other customers he had seen in this place were 50+. Well, there had been a high school girl inside once, but she'd clearly come in because her grandmother was the owner. Danny beelined to his preferred table and unloaded his backpack onto the spare chair before he gratefully collapsed.

Ah. Dark. Quiet. He slouched onto the table a bit.

“You look tired,” said the owner.

Danny lifted his head just enough to give her a cheesy smile. “Can I get a coffee, please?” He croaked. “And- is it still lunch hours?” They stopped doing lunch at two, didn't they? Shoot. What time-

“I can do lunch,” she reassured. She scribbled something deftly onto a pad of paper. “Roast beef sandwich set?”

“I will protect you with my life,” Danny vowed.

She laughed and turned away, but he was for real for real. Danny forced himself to sit up enough to look around his surroundings. He wanted to stay awake. He had just one more class today - a 4 to 5:30 lab. Once he got through that, he could go to bed.

Huh.

He accidentally made eye contact with a young guy holding up a book. Danny lifted a single wave and then looked away awkwardly.

‘Wait a second.’

Danny did a double take.

Yes. Yes, that fucker was holding up a copy of a book from the library in Pariah's keep. It had ghost writing on it.

The guy slowly, pointedly lifted an eyebrow. He was- he was hot and huge and Danny had seen him lift like 200 lbs of books like they were nothing at all.

Danny flushed bright red and buried his face in his hands.

Okay. Okay, so that was Jason's face. How had he found Danny??? That was absurd. …Was it a threat? It felt kinda threatening. Was he in like, danger? Danny pulled his hands away from his face and squinted as subtly as he could at his hellion of a ghost spouse. What kind of sick mind game was it to lurk along his daily route and passive aggressively remind him that he should be working on their divorce?

Worse than that. This was the fastest anyone had ever found his personal identity. Fear and confusion trawled around his gut. How? Literally how? Danny raced back through his memory of their conversation and kicked himself over every misstep he could remember. Clearly, Jason had been prodding him for enough information to trick him into doxxing himself. It was a betrayal, honestly.

Wait. The burner phone. Danny didn't know how, but Jason must have been able to track it. It was a trick.

Danny gave him a nasty look when he figured that out.

Jason pretended to be absorbed in his book. The bastard!

Danny got tenser and tenser, the tendons in his hand flexing into visibility on top of the table.

He felt guilty about not dropping everything and then resentful that apparently Jason wanted him to. He had other things to do, okay? His school life was important.

“Here's your coffee.”

“Thanks,” Danny said automatically, and moved his hands to free up space for the cup and little container of cream. He immediately spooned in sugar and dumped in all the cream. He was way too grateful for something to do with his hands. He breathed in steam and then took a careful sip. It was a good chance to steal another glance at Jason through his lashes.

Jason was still pretending not to pay attention to him.

What was his deal?

His plate came. Danny ate mashed potatoes and gravied meat with more viciousness than usual, casting dark looks at Jason over the vividly orange carrots he speared into his mouth.

The sugar, caffeine, and confused anger hit his nervous system and converted itself helpfully into energy. Danny buzzed with energy. He was going to tell Jason to back off, he decided. The guy still hadn't moved other than to sip at what had to be ice cold tea by now.

“Do you have a problem?” Jason drawled. For the first time, he shut the book and fixed his green eyes directly on Danny.

“I was wondering what your problem is, actually,” Danny shot back. He gave a pointed look to the book. “Real funny bringing that out in public.” His gaze tracked back up to make eye contact and then his brain stuttered.

Holy cow. That was an ecto sheen on his eyes.

‘... I've already contaminated him?’

“It's just a book,” Jason said, voice full of fake confusion. As if he hadn't brought it there to make a point!

Yeah, okay. Danny scoffed. “Whatever, asshole,” he dismissed. He dug money out of his wallet and slapped it on the table to cover his lunch. He barely remembered to grab his backpack through the haze of anger. “I'm sure I'll see you soon.” He took the time to aim an ugly face at Jason on the way out, pulling his lower eyelids down and sticking out his tongue. He barreled out the door while Jason was still sputtering in his fake ass shock.

Boo! That jerk!

#red hot ghouls #dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main #jason todd #danny fenton #Jason fails to enjoy a nice cup of chamomile

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 2 months

Text

Heatwave | Frankie Morales x Reader Drabble.

You can't sleep with your furnace of a boyfriend smothering you, but you can't sleep without him either. Warnings: Mention of naked Frankie, implied both reader and Frankie sleep naked, just fluff based on my own sleep issues <3 Un-beta'd - wrote it mostly in bed this morning. 720~ Words

Your skin burns, hot and sticky as you feel the weight of another person draped over you. Most of the time you can just roll him off and strip the sheets off when the weather gets this extreme. But not tonight. Tonight, Frankie will not relinquish you from his catatonic embrace.

Frankie groans softly as he spoons you. His thick fingers splayed across your stomach; broad chest fused to your sweat-slick back. One leg is draped over your hip and its almost blissful. Almost.

But you’re too fucking hot.

“Frankie, baby,” you whine as you try and wriggle from his grip, “Too hot.”

All that seems to elicit is a muffled “hmm” from him as he somehow pulls you in tighter. His scruff tickles your shoulder as he nuzzles his face behind your ear.

Great, now you’re too hot and you’re turned on. There’s no way you can sleep like this.

“Frankie,” you groan as you prise his arm off you, “Need to sleep. I’ve got that meeting with my boss in the morning.”

You know it’s falling on deaf ears, but it makes you feel better, convincing yourself more than him. You slip out from under him after a minute of wrestling his thick thigh from over you.

“Love you baby,” you say softly as you press a gentle kiss to his furrowed brow.

He stirs as he reaches for your now empty spot on the bed, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty. You love him so much, but you can’t sleep like this.

You make your way down the hall and into the spare room. You slip under the fresh sheets of the modest single bed. You think you’re settled, sheet covering your lower half – because lord knows even in a heatwave your feet get cold – and head resting lightly on the pillow.

Ten minutes tick by, then twenty. When you check your phone for the third time it’s only been twenty-five minutes, but you still can’t sleep. You haul yourself back out of bed, cursing the weather as you slip back into your bedroom.

The pale moonlight illuminates Frankie’s sleeping form as he lays on his back. He’s sprawled out in the middle of the mattress, bare to the humid night air where he’s kicked the sheets off in his sleep. You ease yourself back down onto the bed, crawling into the small space left as you hope Frankie will stay where he is.

Your head hits the pillow just as Frankie shifts back onto his side, a sleepy grunt falling from his lips as he reaches for you. His fingertips ghost your burning skin as he scoots closer.

“Frankie,” you groan as you turn to face him, “I need to sleep, please just roll over.”

“But I like holding you,” he protests sleepily as you see his eyes flutter open, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m too hot Frankie, I can’t sleep with you wrapped around me, it’s too much,” you admit with downturned eyes, teeth pinged into your bottom lip and embarrassment and shame curdle in your belly.

“Amor, I’m sorry,” Frankie says with a sigh as he reaches for you, but he stops himself, “I can sleep in the spare room if that helps?”

“No,” you say as you cup his scruffy jaw with both hands, “I tried that, doesn’t feel right without you in bed with me,” you explain as you scrape your fingers through his scruff.

“What can I do?” Frankie asks as he places his hands over your own.

“Stay with me like this?” You ask as you brush your feet against his, “Just touching a little?”

“I can do that, go to sleep mi sol, I love you.”

“I love you too Frankie,” you say with a yawn.

Eventually you both fall asleep, close to touch, but Frankie is sure to keep his distance. He wakes up sometime in the night, with you curled up against his chest, dead to the world. He smirks to himself as he nuzzles the top of your head. Some things never change, and no matter how hot you get, you always crawl right back into his arms. No matter how poorly you sleep.

“Sleep well, amor.”

He whispers against your scalp as his eyes flutter closed.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #fanfic #frankie morales #francisco morales x reader #fluff #sleep issues #drabble #<800 words #800 words #fluffy drabble #x reader #reader insert #ppcu #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction

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abbyromanoff · 8 months

Note

RQS 🙏 G!P Agatha Harkness x fem! R where Agatha wants impregnate you and has her own little and perfect family

EVERGREEN

PAIRINGS: Agatha Harkness x reader

WORD COUNT: 2,245

WARNINGS: smut, angst, feelings of shame, insecure!R, breeding, magic strap ons (basically like she has a dick), mentions of cheating but no one actually cheats, pet names, lovesick!Agatha, cunnilingus, mentions of fingering, really badly written smut

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Agatha had been planning this for a while now, even breaking the little amount of rest time she had to work. You were questioning what it was that she was so fascinated by, and eventually, it led to creating your own insecurities the more she gave herself to her creation.

“Why can’t you just tell me what you’re making? Even a little hint!” You begged her while standing in the kitchen, a loose robe hanging over your body. You took to making her breakfast in hopes she’d eat with you, but like always, she denied your request, stating that she was too busy at the moment.

“Because it’s a surprise, I’m not going to ruin that.” Her arms were wrapped around your waist as she pulled you in for a sweet kiss, not letting go until she remembered just how late it was.

“Shit, I have to get to work, I’ll be home just in time for dinner and I promise we can eat together tonight, okay?” You sighed and dropped your head before regaining composure, plastering a smile on your face as you bid her goodbye. She didn’t have time to question your act and ran out the door to her car where she honked once as another farewell. You watched her leave through the window with tears threatening to leak. You didn’t want your mind to travel to a dark place, but you couldn’t help but wonder if there was another woman who had truly been taking up her time. You knew she’d never cheat, you trusted her on that, but it seems like she barely has any time for you now and she’s always eager to leave. Was she losing interest in you? Were you not ‘pretty’ enough?

You sat on the couch with a plop, running your hands through your hair as you tried to control the loud sobs that made their escape. If she truly loved you, she wouldn’t be hurting you like this, even at the sake of her ‘experiment’.

You stared at the picture frames on top of the fireplace where the two of you looked beyond happy, you couldn’t help but wonder what changed. The one farthest to the left was a picture of your wedding day, The two of you were cutting the cake but she was too busy staring at you with a smile etched on her face, the moment still brought butterflies to your stomach even after all these years.

The other one that caught your eye was during the photoshoot she convinced you to do with her. You wore a casual dress, nothing too eye-catching, but her jaw still dropped when you showed her. Her arms were placed on your stomach as your back faced her, her head stuffed in your neck, she continued to agree with the fact that your perfume smells better than any of the flowers that waved in the background.

You were choking on your breath at this point, water pooling out of you worse than ever before. You grabbed your phone, opening your texts with the woman and smiling at her contact. You tried to brush that off with a shake of your head before typing out, ‘We need to talk when you get home.’, You hoped it wouldn’t worry her too much but a small part of you wanted her to worry, you wanted her to care.

And she did, the second she got the text her brows furrowed and continued to stay that way the rest of the day, until she got home, at least.

“Y/N? I’m home!” She heard no welcoming, and if it wasn’t for the lights in the kitchen along with the steam from a pan she wouldn’t have known where you were.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You didn’t spare her a glance as you continued to stir the spoon you held tightly in your fist. She placed her hands on either side of your hips and pressed her back against yours, kissing the top of your head and letting her lips linger.

“Baby? Can you talk to me, please? That’s the only way we can work out whatever it is that’s bothering you.” Her hands rubbed up and down soothingly before she turned you around, raising her eyebrow as a signal to speak.

“C’mon, how am I supposed to know what’s wrong if you don’t tell me? I sadly can’t read minds.” She grinned sadly, still receiving nothing but a small frown on your face. It pained her to see you upset, but she was starting to grow frustrated the more you refused to speak.

“You said we needed to talk, well, here I am, ready to talk, but you’re not giving me anything. Please, I just want to know what’s wrong.”

“You should know what this is about.” She sighed, shaking her head as she continued to stare deep into your eyes in search of something, anything.

“Please inform me because I truly don’t.” You tried turning back to the stove where your dinner was being cooked, but she didn’t let you. She held a tight grip on your body and refused to let you push this subject away.

“If it’s hurting you this much I want to know what it is, I don’t want to see you in pain.” She begged once again, nearing the point of giving up.

“You don’t love me anymore, do you?” This wasn’t what she expected would leave your mouth, how could you guess such a thing?

“W-what? Of course, I love you, baby, I-” She cut herself off, shaking her head in disbelief.

“But you’re not in love with me? I mean, anyone can see it at this point. You’re always so eager to leave me and the second you get home you’re on your laptop working or down in the basement, once again, working. It’s fucking embarrassing, Agatha. It’s embarrassing seeing everyone out and about with their husband or wife while you can’t even eat breakfast with me anymore.” She gulped nervously with a nod, but it was breaking her heart little by little hearing how much she hurt you.

“I know-”

“No, you don’t know! Do you know how fucking lonely it is to have your wife not even want to see you? You don’t, because I’m always right there by your side supporting everything you do and I get nothing in return!” She didn’t seem to care that you interrupted her, she just let you speak knowing you needed this. If you needed to yell at her, she’d let you, anything to make you feel better.

“I do want you, I love you more than anything, Y/N.” She couldn’t look you in the eyes anymore, seeing your tears would hurt her too much.

“It doesn’t feel like it.” You weakly stated, wiping your face in fear of letting her see you so vulnerable like this.

“Will you let me make it up to you? Because I want to show you how sorry I am for hurting you, but I understand if you don’t want that.” You took a moment before nodding, allowing the woman to finally breathe as she hugged you tightly, only pulling back so she could kiss you softly.

“The reason I’ve been so busy was because I’ve been working on something for us, something I hope you’ll like.” She reached behind you to turn off the burner before pulling you impossibly close and rejoicing in another peck, only this one wasn’t short. You could feel her love pouring into you as her tongue swiped along your lips, a small moan leaving you as you granted her entrance.

“Aggie..” You mumbled as you rested your forehead against hers, only pulling away due to the lack of air.

“Yes, my love?” She gripped you by the back of your thighs and lifted you into her arms, letting you wrap around her body with a small giggle.

“I’m sorry-”

“No, no, you don’t do the apologizing, I do. You did nothing wrong, and I’m so proud of you for expressing your feelings.” She walked you over to the closest wall which happened to be the front door and pressed you against it, her mouth landing on your neck in teasing pecks. She had to pull down the top of your turtle neck in order to do so, letting you down in the process as you finally felt the floor against your feet.

“You’re my everything, I’m so sorry I made you think otherwise.” She whispered onto your skin, but you could hear it perfectly.

“It’s okay.” She shook her head while dropping to her knees in front of you, pressing her head against your waist and staring up at you, it made you melt in the best ways.

“No, no, it’s not, not at all.” Her hands tugged slowly at your pants and you went to help her, but instead, she pushed you off of her, wanting to let you sit back and do nothing while she did the work for you.

“Please, Aggie-” You bit your lip when her tongue came in contact with your cunt, licking a long strip up your slit and resulting in a hum of enjoyment from her end.

“Tell me what you want, baby, I’ll give you anything, all you have to do is ask.” You threw your head back when her mouth wrapped around your throbbing clit and creating a soft rhythm.

“I- I want you to keep going, just like this.” Her eyes fluttered shut as you tugged on her hair in hopes of keeping her close. You could feel every vibration she sent through you, and fuck did it feel amazing.

Her fingers were prodding at your hole, tongue continuing its abuse on your swollen bud, all while she kept her eyes on you, completely mesmerized by the state she provided you with.

But then, all of a sudden, everything stopped. You opened your eyes to see your wife now standing in front of you with a devilish smirk written on her face, making you whimper.

“Give me your hand,” She guided you to palm her crotch that covered a large bulge. “You feel that? This is what I’ve been working on for so long. I hated seeing you so down whenever we’d try fertility and it failed again and again and again, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.” She found herself standing stark naked in front of you, using one hand to stroke your cheek gently while the other ran up and down your leg.

“It took a lot of time and attention but I’m certain this will work. Now, I’ll be able to feel you clenching around me when you cum, or when I hit that nice little spot deep inside you. And now, I’ll finally be able to give you my babies.” She groaned at the thought, hips bucking into nothing as she imagined the warmth you’d give her.

“Can I- can I go in now?” You nodded rapidly and instantly felt her lifting your leg and placing it on her hip, she made sure to keep you steady while lining herself up with your hole. The second her tip came in contact with your clit, she was done for. A low moan tumbled from her lips before she finally entered you, giving you time to adjust before she continued.

“Shit! I- I didn’t expect you to feel this- good!” She felt you start to grind down on her length and took that as her permission to create small, slow thrusts. While she continued to hold your leg up, she used her free palm to grasp your breasts, squeezing them harshly before tweaking and pinching your nipples.

“That hurts, h-honey.” You whimpered, cheek reddening as her intense gaze refused to remove itself from you.

“But isn’t that the best part?” You clasped onto her back for support as she sped up in her motions, scratching down her skin as you felt her poking your g-spot. The red marks you created only spurred her on further as she lifted your leg further, allowing her to reach even deeper and eliciting pornographic sounds from both of you.

“You don’t know how fucking badly I want to ruin you right now, sweet girl.”

“Then why don’t you?” You mustered up the courage to speak while the knot in your stomach only grew. It felt like a balloon ready to pop at any breathing moment, you just hoped that moment would be soon.

“You’re so tight and warm, could be in you forever.” She spoke, hearing the distant sound of the door creaking behind you the faster she went. She didn’t hold back anymore, not after you spit out those teasing words.

“You gonna cum for me, hm? You gonna make a mess, you dirty little slut?”

“Yeah- yes! Please, I want you to cum in me, Agatha!” She nodded and, only seconds later, you felt a warm liquid pouring into you, painting your walls white as you entered a deep orgasmic state. You were shocked you didn’t collapse, but that was mostly because of the hold your wife had on you.

“That’s it, taking my cum like the good girl you are.” Your breathing was heavy as you dropped your head onto her chest, smiling at the scent of your favorite perfume.

“You know you’re stuck with me forever, right?”

“Good, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

#agatha harkness fluff #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader fluff #agatha harkness x reader smut #agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness x reader angst #agatha harkness x female reader smut #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x female reader #agatha harkness x you #wandavision

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sodamnradd · 4 months

Text

4 times Draco & Hermione flirt with other people + 1 time they admit it’s driving them spare.

So Draco’s flirting with some hyper-blonde at the bar. So she’s draped all over him. So he just checked out her tits—Literally nobody could care less than Hermione does.

“It’s fine,” she says, steering Ginny to the opposite side of the bar. “We hooked up once. It wasn’t serious.”

“Yeah, but we all thought he was obsessed with you.” Ginny scowls in Malfoy’s direction. “Harry says he can’t shut up about you…” Her voice falters, and Hermione follows Ginny’s gaze to where Draco’s unlatching the woman’s arms from around his neck. His eyes are locked firmly on Hermione.

“Granger.” He slips beside her moments later, casting a swift kiss on her cheek. “You came.”

He laces their fingers together, pressing his chest to her spine, and whispers into her ear, “Dance with me,” breath tinged with firewhisky.

Ginny rolls her eyes as Hermione downs a quick shot of tequila and lets Malfoy lure her away.

Hermione shrugs and mouths, “We’re having fun.”

“Isn’t that wanker fifty or some shite?” Draco lowers his spoon, watching Hermione on the opposite side of the canteen, giggling like she’s drunk on Amortentia.

Harry says, “Apparently the term is ‘Silver Fox’. Something to look forward to in a few decades, I suppose.”

“I didn’t realize that’s what Granger’s into.” Draco pushes his tray back, appetite gone.

Harry snorts.

“What?”

“She’s into you, you know.”

He’s desperate to prod Potter for more information, but he’s only slept with Granger twice, so they’re not serious. Explosive doesn’t mean serious, right? That’s what makes it explosive. That enigmatic ‘what if?’ hanging in the air during each encounter.

Draco looks on dejectedly, wondering if he’d prefer exclusive over explosive.

Seven times.

They have slept together seven times, and Draco is still acting like a total wanker, training that new Auror like it’s perfectly dignified to put his hands on her waist to adjust her posture. The girl is blushing so hard Hermione’s suffering from second-hand embarrassment just witnessing it.

Who can blame her? She knows how it feels to be trapped beneath the weight of that intense gaze. She also knows what they look like at the peak of climax. He looks at Hermione with more heat. But there’s no denying the glimmer of interest as he teaches the trainee basic self-defence charms. Damn him.

She slams the gymnasium door shut without looking back.

You can’t have breakup sex if you were never even together, right? But Draco swears there was something final about their last time.

Granger’s face is usually brimming with emotion, but once he helps her off the kitchen island, she goes cold. Detached. All the fire from their eighth time vanishes, and Draco is left wishing for something he thought he already had.

The next evening, she shows up to Potter’s birthday clutching Goldstein’s arm.

What the actual fuck? Is she sleeping with him, too? On the grand spectrum of Ministry blonds, what a prosaic downgrade.

Their eyes meet across the dinner table.

‘Meet me upstairs?’ mouths Draco, gut twisted a hundred times over.

Hermione hops onto the bathroom counter as Draco locks the door behind them.

“Why are you here with another bloke?” He crosses his arms, leaning against the door.

“Why are you flirting with trainees?” she fires back.

“Why are you chasing Silver Foxes?”

Heat crawls up Hermione’s neck. “Who taught you that?”

“Am I not good enough or something?”

“Clearly it’s the other way around.”

“What the hell are you on about?” Draco straightens out. “I can’t get enough of you, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Yes, but I’m not the only one.”

“But you are.”

Hermione pauses, flabbergasted. “You’ve been flirting with other people while you’ve been sleeping with me.”

“So have you.”

“Only because you were.”

“Because you were.”

“Oh my Gods.” Hermione huffs out an exaggerated sigh. “This is going absolutely nowhere.”

“You’re right,” Draco replies. “We’re making no progress, you and me.”

Hermione nods, sadness creeping into her eyes. “I guess that’s that.”

“What? No.” Draco steps forward, blanching. “Do you really mean that?”

“I don’t know. What else is there?”

“Exclusivity,” suggests Draco, point-blank.

“You don’t want that.”

“Says who?”

“Your reputation.”

“I’m pretty sure the entire office thinks I’m obsessed with you.” When Hermione doesn’t respond, having heard that rumour herself, Draco clears his throat and adds, “They might not be wrong.”

“Were you really only flirting with other people because I was because you were?”

He takes a second to reflect, but ultimately shakes his head. “I have no idea what you just said, but how about it? You and me. No trainees. No silver foxes.”

“No hyper-blondes at bars.”

“Course not,” he replies, pretending like he knows what she means. “And no dirty blonds at dinner parties.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” Draco grins, stepping forward to seal the deal.

Later, Draco’s relieved to discover exclusivity is just as explosive as the enigmatic ‘what if?’ Better even, because Granger is finally, without an inkling of doubt, his.

(854 words, cross-posted from twitter)

#dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #dhr #dramione drabble #drabble #sodamnrad #sodamnraddrabbles

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wqnwoos · 9 months

Text

the universe is always working against you, because somehow, vernon is always the one to catch you at your most embarrassing moments.

it’s not like you guys are even close — you’re in the same friend group, but you’re more orbiting around each other. the only time you interact one-on-one is usually because you’ve ended up humiliating yourself entirely, and he’s seen the whole thing. which would be fine, if, you know, you didn’t have a big fat crush on him.

the first time you met him, you tripped and sprawled at his feet. outside. in the college courtyard. and you, brightest of the bunch, looked up at his sneakers from the grass, and offered nothing but, “oh, hey, your shoes are untied!” — and after a short pause — “also, ow.”

when you had finally gotten up, with vernon’s help and joshua’s laughter, there’d been a glaring green grass stain on your white t-shirt. vernon had offered a spare t-shirt; you’d declined, backed away and said it was your new style. top ten most embarrassing things to ever leave your mouth.

since then, every encounter with chwe vernon has been intensely humiliating for you, and probably free entertainment for him. you’ve tripped in front of him more times than you can count. dropped (iced) coffee on his shirt. gotten his wired headphones caught in your bag strap — you still don’t know how that happened. once, he’d been the only person kind enough to tell you that you had toilet paper stuck to your shoe.

and now there’s this; you, at 2 in the morning in a mcdonald’s parking lot, having an enthusiastic karaoke session with your mcflurry spoon as a mic and a miffy air freshener as your audience, realising that vernon is the dude who’s just parked next to you, and he’s watching you with possibly the most amused grin you’ve ever seen him wear.

because you’d been into it — blasting your music, tossing your head dramatically and making all sorts of gestures to accompany it, until you’d realised a car has parked beside you. at which point you’d frozen, music still blaring, mcflurry spoon still pointed towards your lips, making eye contact with one delighted chwe vernon.

he rolls his window down, and, reluctantly, you do the same, twisting the volume button on your radio as you do.

“hi,” he says, lips twitching in an effort to maintain his composure.

you groan, dragging a hand over your face. “go on. you can laugh.”

“why would i laugh at a — a natural performer?” he asks, but he can’t suppress it; a laugh bubbles out, and you feel yourself shrink.

“if you ever breathe a word of this — ” you warn, and cut yourself off, because you don’t even know what to threaten him with. “unspeakable consequences,” you finish finally.

“unspeakable?” he repeats, and you give him a solemn nod.

“unspeakable.”

“understood,” he agrees, with a mock salute. “so, uh, what exactly are you — doing?”

“mid-terms,” you explain briefly; but maybe the sleep-deprivation is getting to you, because you’re suddenly asking him a question. “vernon?”

“yeah?”

“how come you’re only here at my most embarrassing moments?” you don’t even give him a chance to answer, rambling on before he can cut in. “like, i am not usually this clumsy. or stupid. or anything. but the second you show up, i’m tripping over my own feet like a — like a baby learning how to walk!”

he blinks at you slowly. “i don’t… know? i thought you were just naturally clumsy!”

“no!” you object, “it’s just when you’re around! you make me nervous! and then i just humiliate myself, which is so annoying, because you’re so cool, and — fuck a duck, i’m doing it again.” the last sentence is punctuated with you bumping your head forward in frustration — but you do it a little too hard, colliding with the steering wheel and causing a loud honk! to ring through the parking lot immediately.

vernon can’t help the laughter that escapes him at your mortified expression, leaning an arm over his open car window. “it’s okay,” he reassures, still grinning, when you cover your face in embarrassment. “i think it’s cute that you’re clumsy.”

“but i’m not clums— wait.” you stop your own protesting wail to turn to him in shock.

he cocks an eyebrow. “i’m waiting.”

“say that again!”

“what? that i think you’re cute?” his smile is becoming wider by the second.

“wow.” you look straight ahead, facing the empty parking lot and taking a breath.“okay. okay. thank you, vernon.”

“you’re very welcome, ___,” he mimics, smiling innocently when you cast him a look.

“i think you’re just making fun of me now, and so i’m going to go.”

vernon raises his hands and shrugs. “i won’t stop you.” and then suddenly he extends his arm towards you. “actually, i need to text a friend first. can i borrow your phone for a sec?”

dubiously, you hand your unlocked phone to him, and when he hands it over, you can see the new created contact “vernon 👽”, and the text he’s sent to himself.

he smiles at you, softer and less teasing this time. “text me when you get home, alright?”

you yank your hand away from his, pointing at him with your free hand. “oh, you smooth motherfucker.”

an / writing everything except my requests at this point. i’m sorry guys 😭

taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin

#vernon fluff #vernon x reader #vernon comfort #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen comfort #vernon fic #vernon x y/n #vernon scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen headcanons

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angelbvnny · 1 year

Text

Nap Time

Gn!Reader, sfw

This was originally gonna be head cannons but it turned into little drabbles?

Tartaglia, Wanderer, Kaveh

Tartaglia

Naps are quite an often occurrence with you and Ajax. Being a harbinger is very demanding. He's always pushing his body past it's limits. So by the time he arrives home, he's ready to pass out. You know when the day's been a particularly hard one when your normally lively over the top boyfriend enters without a word.

He will head straight for you, sneaking up from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist, letting out a sigh of relief. This has happened enough for you to know what he needs. You turn around giving him a light kiss on the lips. "Wanna take a nap?" His tired dark eyes stare at you for a moment before nodding.

As the two of you lie down he instantly clings onto you, tightly holding you in his arms. His hands are grabbing onto the fabric of your shirt. You can see as he slowly relaxes and his shoulders loosen. A smile appears on his face before light snoring can be heard. He's out within minutes.

I hope that you got everything done before this because you'll be stuck here until he wakes up. But you can't be upset when you see the peaceful look on your boyfriends face as he cuddles you <3

Wanderer

Scara doesn't get tired easily, so naps aren't too often with him. It's usually you that wants to take one. And he always agrees to it because while he will never admit it, he will do anything you tell him to, not without complaining about it of course. But in the times he does initiate it, it's more for intimacy purposes rather than actually resting. Because it's hard to say what he wants! In fact he would consider it to be humiliating to ask you to hold him.

Speaking of being humiliated, even asking to take a nap is difficult for him. So instead he opts to follow you around the house until you get the hint. Any time you turn to him asking if he needs anything, he simply shrugs and stays silent. He does get frustrated when you don't figure it out though (even though it's basically impossible to know what he wants) so he starts to sigh. But you still don't get the hint. So then the sighs get louder, and grow longer.

So you ask him for the nth time what's wrong, and by this point he can't take it anymore and tells you "Take a nap with me." Oh. Was that all? You're relieved he's not actually upset over something. It's actually pretty cute that he went so far just to ask you to take a nap with him. So you wrap up whatever you're doing and lay down with him.

He insists on being big spoon, holding you against himself. But somehow as you are sleeping he always manages to end up being cradled in your arms by the time you wake up. Whether it's intentional or not you aren't sure, but you choose not to mention it to spare him the embarrassment, and if it is intentional, you wouldn't want him to stop. You're glad Kuni feels safe enough to be that vulnerable with you <3

Kaveh

Kaveh has absolutely no respect for his sleep schedule. More often than not he will be up the entire night working on his latest project. So by the time evening comes in the following day, he's in dire need of a nap. And you're always ready to take one with him :)

He will come home from the Akademiya, immediately searching for you. When he finds you, he will moan and groan, talking about how exhausted he is and how he simply can't do anything until he recharges with his darling! He'll put his hand on the small of your back, urging you to the bedroom. He's already quite a needy boyfriend, but when he's tired, he NEEDS you. Needs to see you, touch you, hold you. Just to be with you.

Absolutely loves being little spoon. Don't get him wrong, he loves cuddling no matter how you're doing it, but something about being held by you makes his whole body relax and mind go empty. He specifically loves laying his head against your chest. Between the warmth from your body heat and the blanket he's snuggled under, he is OUT.

If he wasn't already, he instinctively grabs onto you when he's sleeping. Holding your hand or gripping your shirt. Kaveh has a surprisingly strong grip when he's unconscious. He just wants to get closer to you. Closer and closer and closer.

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felassan · 10 months

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remember that wild Dragon Age theme park ride (Dragon Age: Flight of the Wardens), originally located in Dubai until it randomly turned up years later (now also oddly-rebranded as "[Not Dragon Age We Swears It]: The Guardian") in, of all places, Skegness England? well, I had to satisfy my curiosity and obsession with obscure pieces of Dragon Age media & archival thereof. and so - actually quite some time ago now - I finally got around to going on a pilgrimage there (which was this whole, like.. heinous harrowing in and of itself, that I will not go into), and I rode it

and to my surprise the original Dragon Age in-ride movie is still part of the ride experience! - complete with references to darkspawn, a Pride demon, dragons, green "rifts", Discount Anders (a Grey Warden[?] mage called 'Eldron'), Discount Yavanna (a Witch of the Wilds called 'Alexia') and Dragon Age: Inquisition soundtrack music. there is also now a new pre-ride movie which replaces the old Dragon Age pre-ride movie as part of the ride's rebranding, and i simply ?¿?

there are also still quite a lot of identifiable Dragon Age props in the fantasy-themed queue-area of the ride (so these must have been part of the whole purchase between parks), including multiple iconic Inquisitor helmets, Grey Warden shields, a Dragon Age dragon (now with DA-dragon identifiable horns.. sawn off??), and several Dragon Age banners, including the Inquisition hairy eyeball, the templar symbol and the Circle symbol. here's some pictures.

[^this image is taken from the video linked below]

I also captured the new pre-ride movie, and you can see it along with the Dragon Age in-ride movie here ⬇️. and so now, with this epilogue to the.. most odyssey of all time, more than two years after the first message about the ride was ever sent to Ghil Dirthalen, this adventure in obscurity and the strange fever-dream meta story of the Dragon Age: Flight of the Wardens era in Dragon Age history is finally complete.

youtube

Ghil Dirthalen: The Guardian??? {Overview. - Spoilers All}

[video source & link: Ghil Dirthalen, posted here w/ permission]

some further notes, thoughts and commentary under the cut -

there's a few seconds missing from this capture of the in-ride movie. for the sake of the curious and completion: in them, you're still in the fort and you see lots of 'Wardens' walking and milling around.

a camera in the ride takes two photos of the riders during the ride, which are displayed on a screen on the way out. you can choose to buy these from the Fantasy Island merchandise store. you know those photos of people on log flume rides? it's like those, only of the four riders in a row in the seats. the photos have Fantasy Island branding on them and fire along the bottom, then in two corners there's a bit of a dragon's head and that's about it. the ride photo is the only Guardian-specific merch available at the park.

some of the queue area props appear to be from random other places. like there was a barrel which had something like "1850 distillery" written on it, which is obviously temporally/thematically and universe-ly out of place (not that that's at all unreasonable given the rest of the rideworld lore, there's totally a way it could have gotten there easily hh, see below), and I guess it's a spare or leftover prop from a Western-themed ride or something? others were generic sword'n'sorcery fantasy props (some of these are from the ride's previous life in Dubai though). there are also some pretty random props, like a dead stuffed roe deer's head on the wall and a.. comically large spoon.

there's music playing in the queue area, but it's not DA music, it's generic ye olde fantasy world music.

some folks there mistakenly thought that the long themed lead-up (it was pretty darn long) queue area with the props was the entrance to or start of something completely different, like a haunted house or maze type thing, or was the ride 'experience' in and of itself.

the ride attendant gives you the option of watching the new pre-ride movie or not. I guess they get sick of putting it on and listening to it 9000 times a day (valid), and also cutting it out reduces queue times as it's about five minutes long. it's screened in a little enclosed room at the end of the queue area. you go in and sit down, they show it to you, then you go through another door to the chair machine.

the in-ride movie is blurry and poor quality. I heard someone else who rode it say that it was so blurry that they had no idea what was going on hhh

Now about the new pre-ride movie. in the linked video, the start of the new pre-ride movie isn't included in full at normal speed as it seemed to be a compilation of whatever random fantasy-themed stock footage the video creator could find, stitched together. but again for the curious and the sake of completion: it starts out panning randomly around SPACE, like at the solar system and of planets and at the Milky Way. for a sec I wondered if it was made up of random old Mass Effect assets. then it shows dragons (FROM SPACE) invading an Earth-like planet where I suppose the Ferelden-y kindgom (formerly called "Noathen", now called "Elvia" or something) setting in the rideworld is now supposed to be set. these invading dragons invade either from space or.. another dimension?? or maybe from the future or both?? [see below], entering through a big green rift. (and they still have the green coloring for the rifts and call it/them "rifts" like in DA, which was honestly so funny to me for some reason). the whole panning in from space start to the movie reminded me a lot of the Easter eggs in the DA and ME games that, while they're just Easter eggs for fun and I don't subscribe to this theory myself (as DA is its own great, self-contained thing), could light-heartedly imply that the planet with Thedas on it is a planet in the MEverse (like the krogan head in the Winter Palace in DAI or the ogre in that ME dlc).

in the pre-ride movie, the kingdom of "Elvia" might have actually been called "Albion", which is the earliest-known name for the island of Britain. (it was hard to make out exactly what the king was saying there) the new pre-ride movie seems like it was made in England and ofc thats a common fantasy setting, so I could see it, especially since the king character's name was something like Aethylswyth, which sounded very "Old English". for me personally, if it was "Albion", it adds fuel to the fire of Caitie's cracktheory/"trying to make this fit"-headcanon for the ride story/lore (see Caitie's original video on the ride's previous life for this), that it's set somewhere obscure and backwatery in Ferelden, which is kinda England- or Britain-inspired. (dont take these thoughts or other thoughts in this post about the lore/canon etc too srsly pls hh, it's just crack for fun and I know tis just an off-brand themepark ride)

on the whole the new pre-ride movie is pretty random. there's a giant in it, but it doesn't look like a DAI giant. (is it his big spoon??) it shows a fortress in part of it which looks a bit like Skyhold if you squint, with the long bridge approaching it as the entrance. at one point one of the dragons that pops up is a dragon designed more in the style of a dragon as they are sometimes depicted in, for example, Chinese mythology and folklore. the "communication device" the king described had me rolling, it's exactly like a Dragon Age Skype Crystal or a working set of eluvians from Thedas.. I wondered if the video creator was inspired some by DAI promo images and took cues from the Inquisitor's green hand/the Anchor, since the king has a green glowing thing on (or in?) his chest. and when the king started listing the elements humans are made of, I was reminded of Fullmetal Alchemist.

also, "through a time rift".. I mean technically Dorian's involvement in DAI DOES show green space-time magic right? Where is this other dimension? ofc I know it's not literally Dragon Age, but it's funny to think about and to try and make it "fit" skhskdhfjhe. is it the Fade? the Void? from somewhere in-between like Tevinter Nights implies exists? or is it the dimension which has Thedas's mundane world itself in it - like maybe the dragons are invading this poor guy's kingdom dimension from Thedas? if so what tf is going on in Thedas?? did Solas' explosion at the Conclave ripple through spacetime and rip holes in the fabrics of other worlds as well - like is Solas out here accidentally causing interdimensional Space Dragon invasions? like, theoretically.. the new pre-ride move does reference the in-ride movie, and in turn the in-ride movie is still Dragon Age (!), so technically the new pre-ride movie IS.. kind of.. weirdly.. canon.

((the pre-ride movie references an "outerworld", implying that even in THAT dimension there's an outer world and an inner world, definitely more than one at least. and back on the dimensions thing, I'm not clear - are the dragons coming from Thedas dimension? or are they coming to Thedas dimension? "they came through the rift, human in form but with powers, the ability to fly [that's Eldron] and the ability to transform into dragon-like creatures [that's Alexia]" implies that the dimension on the other side of the rift - if the helpers came through the same rift as the invading dragons - is Thedas, because that's Eldron and Alexia from the Dragon Age in-ride movie being referred to, and Noathen where they're from is in Thedas somewhere. so some Thedosians have travelled to another world to save it?? Dragons are escaping out of Thedas? but.. from space? but also - the narration is telling us that Eldron and Alexia and the other Guardians brought with them from where they came from, as a gift, incredible advanced technology that the people of Elvia have never seen before. he then gives the example of "this communication device" which could be read meta-ly as meaning the television screen, and of plans to build a machine made of metal and advanced technology (meaning the ride machine you go sit on, which is a themepark machine irl obviously and in the 'world' of the ride, some kind of flying machine). so like.. are Eldron and Alexia from Future Thedas (think Avatar Aang/Korra, when by Korra's time there's like lots more machinery and a more modern feel), a Thedas which has advanced complex machines like idk, AEROPLANES? is that what they mean by "time-rift"? because they specifically did say "time". is that to try and explain the modern machinery? does that mean the invading dragons also came from the future, not just from space or another dimension? the other option: Eldron and Alexia came from alternate universe Thedas, which has more modern technology in it. but Thedosians Time-Travelling From The Future And Also Space And Another Dimension is so funny to me so lets go with that. my headcanon is that on the way to Elvia they also timetravelled through a Westernthemed time period and thats why theres a recent-modern period whisky barrel)).

in the ride's previous life, the explanatory hook was that Eldron made you a special harness or saddle thing with which to ride a dragon, which was what the ride machine was simulating. however now, the hook to explain the machine is that it's a gift of advanced technology powered by carbon, hydrogen, organic matter (Big Oil lmao?) etc. (I enjoyed that this explanatory hook got wackier between eras of the ride's life, much like the whole meta story of this piece of media itself. it was already weird because riding dragons isn't really part of DA. though I don't understand meta-ly speaking this convoluted explanation for the machine. dragon-riding isn't an identifiable or key part of the Dragon Age franchise, so they could have kept the idea that you're sitting on a dragon's back and flying around on that in instead of having this wacky explanation about a flying machine gifted from magical strangers from Back To The Future and it would have been fine. I love it though bc its so absurd)

And Tiny Dragon Alexia from the original ride experience is kinda referenced (unintentionally?) when the king introduces the dragon "Guardian" "Mia", as when she comes on-screen her size or scaling looks small/kinda off, so maybe Tiny Dragon lives on. so now we have Tiny Dragon Alexia, Tiny Dragon Mia, and Tiny Dragon queue prop. it's a Tiny Dragon Conference.

and like I just have so many questions. in her original video on the ride, Ghil Dirthalen wondered at length where in Ferelden/Thedas Noathen could be. where is Elvia? why does the pov of the pre-ride movie proceed downstairs into the room where the king is - like why does the king have his throne in a basement? is he in an underground bunker for safety because of the Space Dragon invasion? why does he say we "climbed" up when we have just gone down into his dungeon? why is the tiny dragon introduced as "Mia" when the tiny dragon witch lady in the in-ride movie is called "Alexia"? does the king's green glowing chest thing work like the Anchor - does he have a chest Anchor.. a Chanchor? where did they get Discount Gandalf from the queue area and why is he exactly like the Ghil Dirthalen Stock Theatre Wizards in her original video? why did they change the kingdom's name from "Noathen" to "Elvia" in the pre-ride movie when "Noathen" was already non-existent in Dragon Age lore? why did they scrub Dragon Age from or avoid Dragon Age in the pre-ride movie but leave the whole Dragon Age in-ride movie intact? are the "Guardians" Discount Grey Wardens? is the king's whole schpeel secretly an evil plot so he that can use our bodies for like necromancy-alchemy? why does the ride run on your flesh and are we about to be sacrificed in a blood magic ritual? do we end up like the husks in Mass Effect after our organic forms are broken down into compounds to fuel the King of Elvia's flying anti-dragon defense tank? is the actor of the king a park staffer who is into larping, or someone's fun nerd uncle who likes DnD? does Caitie not in fact agree that I am very handsome and smart, indeed the World's Most Interesting Guy? 😤 why go to the trouble of sawing off the dragon's DA-dragon horns when the in-ride movie is still Dragon Age?? why are the dragons invading from space anyway like what do they want??? how can I obtain the king actor guy's autograph? where are EA's lawyers? and why is there a giant spoon?

#dragon age #Not Dragon Age We Swears It #bioware #solas #video games #lul #long post #longpost #gpoy #mj and the world #saveserault #mass effect #(shoutout to the DA Archivists)#thanku to ghil for her vids and for permission to post this video here #this whole episode in my life and in the DA fandom feels like a strange shared fever dream. was that real? am i? is Skegness? is DA4? r WE?#lmaoo #skegness the swampy ass crack of england #Fantasy Island - where dreams go to die (but fever dreams live on)#(cant believe one of the pretend Wardens from Ghil Dirthalen's Eldron's fake Warden cult was literally there irl at Fantasy Island. im ded)#and if u are reading this thinking wat the heck fel r u ok its just a rebranded themepark ride like calm down its not That Deep #i grasp ur collar and raise you that #in the time between dai and DA:D i have fully lost my mind #what dragon age does to a guy #while we wait for dragon age 4 this is the plot of dragon age 4 #on my knees constructing elaborate headcanons about and trying to make sense of a Not dragon age theme park ride #surrealism.txt

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