#damn near every fantasy goes the same way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lavendertales · 2 years

Text

shut up & listen—Eddie Munson x f!reader**

summary: weeks worth of tension, accumulated throughout your blossoming romance with Eddie, finally blow up one evening.

word count: 2.4k

WARNINGS: friends to lovers, piv (safe), cunnilingus, fingering, slight male masturbation, Eddie likes to tease you. song inspo.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!!!

A/N: well, you asked, and you shall receive! this is part 2 of Tongue twister, but it can be read as a standalone as well. thank you so much for all the love you’ve shown the first part, it’s insane! hope you enjoy this one as well 😌

gif: @nowadayz

Nervous doesn’t even begin to cover what goes through your body right now.

Though unspoken, the tension burning in between you and Eddie had been raised to a boiling point tonight. The date had been utterly beautiful: you spent the whole afternoon at a carnival, playing all those silly games that you can never win at—and yet somehow he managed to win you a stuffed bear— eating corndogs and laughing at all the cheesy couples over there. You didn’t say a damn word about you low-key wanting that same thing with Eddie.

But neither did he.

It’s not like he wants to keep things from you. Not even in the slightest. He’s simply afraid to come on too strong and screw things up with you. There are plenty of things swirling inside his head, some real and serious, and others less than decent.

He doesn’t tell you that his mouth nearly waters every time he sees you, or smells you. He doesn’t tell you that he wants to take the hand that holds yours and bury it in between your legs in hopes of releasing the sweetest, sheet-clutching moans he could think of.

Not yet.

Truth is, he’s not sure how much more of this inner torment he can handle. He would never do anything out of pocket, anything that might hurt you in any way and he’s glad neither of you rushed into anything physical. But Jesus Christ, each time he saw you, he reminisced of that night when you talked about your feelings and made out as you straddled his lap, and he could get hard on command.

And tonight is no exception. You’re wearing a cute skirt and a relatively tight top, and he’s doing his very best to be the perfect gentleman and leave his own little fantasies abandoned in some corner of his mind. He drives you home in that rusty truck that belonged to Wayne, and electricity prickles your skin. You steal side glances at Eddie handling the steering wheel with one hand and you gulp, feeling heat travel all the way to your nether region, and you try to shake off the near loud gasp you let out.

When you arrive, Eddie takes a big, deep breath and looks at you.

“Here we are,” he says with a wicked smile.

“I’d invite you in, but then I’d have to introduce you to my family as my boyfriend and I feel like neither of us is ready for that.”

“Yeah, let’s not put ourselves through that just yet.”

You both giggle, and you clutch tighter onto the teddy bear as you glare lovingly at him.

“It’s still pretty early,” you say. “We could… do something else.”

“Yeah? What you have in mind?”

The simple way he says that, so smooth and yet so intrigued already, lets you know he’s up to no good. One might argue that neither are you.

“Maybe a nightcap in your trailer… some music… and then—“

Your voice dies down as desire takes over, but luckily, Eddie can pretty much tell where all this is headed. He smiles reassuringly, taking your hand in his.

“Sounds amazing,” he says.

You smile brightly. “I’d still need to be home before midnight.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll do you, and then make sure you get home safe.”

This time you laugh wholeheartedly, stroking his hand.

“You’re terrible,” you tell him.

“So I’ve been told.”

Oh, but he’s a sucker for you. He’s simply incapable of doing anything less than pleasing you—however that may be. Though right now, that desire to please manifests itself in an almost cruel form. It feels downright painful to spend any more time away from you.

So he drives back to the trailer park, truck now resting in front of his home. His heart lies in his throat still, but the more he glances over at you, the more relaxed and ready he feels.

“Alright,” he announces. “Home sweet home!”

You don’t say anything; you enter the trailer first as he holds the door open for you, and you look around, thinking of all the nights you’ve spent there, getting high and listening to Eddie play his guitar. You can’t help but think tonight will be much different memory to behold once it’ll be done with.

“So, what’s your poison of choice?” he asks you.

You’re not really there, in all honesty. You can’t stop staring at every feature visible on him, eyes landing inevitably on his plush lips as you bite on your own.

“You,” you boldly answer.

That earns a naughty chuckle from Eddie’s side. He inches closer to you, hand trailing down your arm and landing on your hips, pulling you in. Then, he takes another deep breath, eyeing you up and down.

“Oh, sweetheart. You don’t know half the things I have on my mind right about now,” he mutters.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The things I wanna do…”

“Instead of talking, why don’t you show your work?”

Playfulness sips through your smooth voice, and it gets Eddie’s motor running.

“I sure will, don’t you worry about that,” he smiles and kisses you.

His mouth practically devours yours and his body grinds into yours. Your hands cup his face, a few locks of his curly hair entangled in between your fingers and you chuckle into the kiss. The sound reverberates throughout his whole body, setting it afire at the same time.

Music is long forgotten, and so is the teddy bear Eddie won for you that evening; there are nothing but your breaths to fill the room, the sound of fabric rubbing against fabric, the warm bodies beneath them longing to be discovered by the other.

Every nerve in your body simply boils alive when the kiss deepens, getting sloppier with each passing second. Your body bounces against the mattress, with Eddie’s atop of you. His lips pepper the same sloppy kisses down your jaw and neck, stopping only to steal another glance at you. A smile erupts from the corners of his lips, one of those wicked ones that you simply could never get enough of.

“You’re the prettiest girl in this godforsaken town,” he says, leaning over to undress you.

“And you’re a pretty good liar.”

He tsks, and you giggle. “You’re so pretty, too.”

He lifts his head again from in between your breasts.

“You think I’m pretty?” he asks, astounded by your confession.

“Yes.”

You both smile as your hands run eager on each other’s bodies, removing the fabrics standing in the way of utter pleasure. There’s a brief pause in between ministrations, Eddie’s eyes gone dark by now, driven with lust. Then, his hands part your legs, causing you to tremble with excitement. You gasp, already in a spiral of frenzy, but when he buries his head there and you feel his tongue circle around your clit, you moan out loud.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie smiles. He’s long craved to taste you in the most intimate way he knew of, and now, he’s like a kid loose in the candy store. He needs to scoop up every ounce of sweet arousal he can get out of you, like he can’t breathe otherwise.

You moan brokenly, on a loop, and he coos you gently. To no avail, though; you can’t stop the sounds emerging from your throat for the life of you. Especially not when Eddie adds a finger to his filthy torment. It nearly causes you to black out, this combination of his tongue’s slurping sounds on your clit and his index pumping in and out of you.

“Eddie—oh God—“

He hums something against your folds, God knows what, but you don’t really care. You start to feel the impending buildup in your belly, threatening to burst at any given point, yet Eddie doesn’t stop. Not even when you grab a handful of his thick locks of hair, pulling him in as much as you can. He eats you out relentlessly, hungrily, the main cause of the obscenely glib sounds from your cunt.

You grunt, almost on the verge of tears at how intensely you can feel every flick of his tongue. It’s only now that Eddie stops. You see him fleetingly licking his lips and staring at you with those big, dark eyes, looking you over in the most hungry, yet oddly appreciative way.

“Shit, you taste so good,” he smirks.

“Why did you stop?” you complain.

Eddie cocks his head to the right, his hands reaching to unzip his jeans and strip out of his clothes. He doesn’t break eye contact with you for even a second, as if he fears he might lose you completely.

He could never, though.

“Because I wanna feel you when I make you come,” he replies.

No argument there, you think.

You swallow harshly around the knot in your throat as Eddie stands before you, finally naked, carefully yet somehow eagerly at the same time taking out a condom to place on his erection. You watch intently, and he catches your eyes just as he strokes himself twice. A smile breaks from his mouth, repeating the motions as he inches closer to you, holding back his own grunts.

“You like watching me do this?” he cheekily asks.

You nod, speechless from the previous overstimulation. You’re watching him jerk off with slow, precise motions, stuck in a trance as you feel yourself get even wetter—if possible. It felt like he was drinking straight from you mere seconds ago, soaking up every ounce of arousal you got for him, and now you’re all wet again.

“You like seeing how hard you make me, huh, sweetheart?”

You could easily cry out from the overstimulation and the anticipation, so you cup his cheeks and pull him down, one leg curled around his waist. Eddie nearly goes ballistic for that particular move: he groans in your mouth, so hard by this point that it hurts to even touch himself. He does it anyway, merely to guide himself to your opening.

You moan in tandem at that first push of his cock through your walls; the rush you both get is simply electric, delicious in its minimalism and almost enough to tip you over the edge. Almost.

Eddie could’ve came right then and there, just sheathed around your warm, tight walls. He takes a breather, locks of curly hair covering his face, but you reach to kiss him again, thus encouraging him to move.

“Fucking hell,” he cusses under his breath. “Fucking hell, you—you’re so warm and—and so—“

“You’re so fucking pretty, Eddie Munson,” you whisper, all in one breath.

He smiles so widely your heart could stop, and he starts to roll his hips against yours. You reward him with moans and breathless encouragements that you know he needs, nay, craves. You know he’s weak for any saccharine words from your side, so you give him—and yourself—exactly what you want.

“You’re the pretty one,” he retorts.

You smile as well, body rocked under the weight of Eddie’s. His pace is slightly disordered, curtesy of your leg curled around his waist to allow him to reach deeper inside you. Your cunt aches for more of him—though you’re aware that that’s physically impossible—even as his thrusts are faster and a little rougher, too. The movements are bred out of pure love and trust, but mostly, an ardent desire to simply have each other.

“Shhh,” he shushes you again, though neither of you has spoken for a while. “Do you hear that?”

You only hear your and his erratic breaths, alongside the hot, squelching sounds emerging from in between your legs. You moan brokenly again, the concoction of sounds creating another pleasure wave that hits your body unexpectedly.

“So wet, baby,” he chuckles—deep, nearly manic and even cocky—and gives you a particularly deep thrust.

“For you,” you coo. “Always—just you.”

“Good.”

There’s jealousy nested inside of Eddie as well. Who would’ve thought?

Maybe he didn’t have a proper reason to be jealous until you entered his life.

You dig your fingernails into the flesh of his arms, and Eddie pushes forward and backward, on and on till he feels that familiar burn in his belly, the one he’s been longing for so long.

But he decides to hold back as much as he can. He needs to feel you come first. He just needs to feel that tightness pulsating around his cock before anything else.

“Eddie—ohhh—Eddie, please, pleasepleaseplease—“

“Please what, sweetheart? Hm? What do you want?”

“Shit, I just—“

“I got you—I got you, c’mon—be a good girl and come for me, hm?”

He’s losing his breath and nearly his consciousness too, but he powers through, struggling to ignore how badly he needs to come. He can tell you’re close, just as he thrusts faster, reaching some hidden spot inside of you that makes you see stars.

The sweet release builds in your belly, then it’s detonated in your cunt as you finally come with a loud moan and the shout of his name staining your lips. The tight feeling of your fluttering walls around him is too much to handle—Eddie comes almost simultaneously with you. His whole body seizes up, and he allows himself to be wrapped in the intoxicating sweetness of you and the pleasure you inevitably bring to him.

You feel like he leaves your heat far too soon, though in reality it must’ve only been like a few seconds. You make a sound to let your complaint be known while Eddie disposes of the condom and chuckles mischievously in your direction. Then he crawls back in bed with you, and you hold your breath. It suddenly hits you: this is the most intimate you’ve ever seen him, and he looks so damn beautiful with his lit up face, completely spent and fucked out. He’s simply mesmerizing.

“Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

You bite down on your tongue to prevent the words that threaten to leave your mouth so unprompted, it scares even you. Then you shake your head, thus prompting him to not ask any further questions.

He only stares at you, a goofy smile on his face. He says your name, and your heart skips a beat.

“I am… stupidly in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since we met.”

Your heart stops altogether. Your chest feels tight with plenty of emotions that you try to prevent from blasting all at once.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask instead.

Eddie shrugs. “I may not be the bravest guy on earth. Call me a coward if you must.”

“I would never.”

You chuckle as he pecks your lips, nose and forehead, and you cuddle at his chest. Eddie smiles; he knows you love him, too.

tags:

@dumplinshee @spitfire4life @mfoxbaby @melaniehere91 @poppadomps @fckyeahlames @samunson83 @specialsnowflake-gabbi @maddyloveswanda @quicksilversleatherjacket @dotslabyrinth @ooo-protean-ooo @hellfiressweetheart @kittsu-makes-glass @eloisegrant @deez0ballsacks @ainsley-official

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn smut

2K notes · View notes

dr3amofagame · 5 months

Text

speaking of how Weird c!sam is about c!dream, one of my fav things abt c!awesamdream in canon is definitely how they. don't see eye to eye on this? like c!dream doesn't get it and a point is made of how he doesn't get it again and again--the most glaring example, of course, being how sure c!dream is that he'll die if he gives up the book versus c!sam being just as sure when he tells him that he won't die (but, somewhat paradoxically, sounding just as sure when he says that he was looking forward to getting the book so he could kill dream and be done with it)

because in strictly pragmatic terms, once c!dream gives up the book, it's game over for him. there's no reason for c!sam to want him alive, in his mind, from any rational perspective--that was literally the whole reason why he was put in the prison, for god's sake. c!dream makes sense of what c!sam does in terms of practicality--the torture was to get the book, he can understand that, whatever. he takes issues with c!sam's being a hypocrite, but can understand c!sam in terms of himself as something with literal value (the book, 'financial benefit', the works.)

but as much as c!sam dresses up his actions in terms of practicality, he's. very much tied his identity to c!dream-as-prisoner in a way that is so far removed from purely his duty as the prison warden. his complicated feelings on dream's life in his hands are a testament to this--he has to keep dream alive, he hates this, he doesn't let dream die, he promises to keep dream alive if he gives up the book and he believes it, he looks forward to getting the book so they can finally kill dream and be done with it, the first time he brings quackity into the prison is on the heels of a fantasy of pinning dream to the ground and killing him, the last time he escorts him out is because he can't let quackity in with the knowledge that doing so will be dream's death sentence, he reacts to knowledge of dream's death by calling it freedom, he would let his dog and his significant other and damn near the whole fucking server burn for dream's life. dream speaks of his value in sam's life in terms of rare magical items and monetary profit and sam grapples not with how much dream is worth, over and over again, but what he can and will admit to himself

and. god. i keep thinking about scrapped lore, and the two different descriptions of it we got from cc!dream and cc!sam because god i feel like it. really does reflect this. like dream describes his character as "manipulating" sam and specifically mentions doing so by telling sam to "prove that you're not like [dream + quackity]", echoing daedalus, as well as promising not to attack sam or quackity etc etc etc. and it's so interesting to me because...as far as this goes in terms of a method of convincing sam. it doesn't. like sam doesn't need to prove to dream that he's different. even if we look at daedalus in specifics, the most sam really goes is grouping dream with himself (which is. crazy to be clear tho) by asking about dream using the prison for Someone Truly Evil, as in, someone not "like us." the furthest sam goes in daedalus is the consideration of dream as...someone with reasons, and therefore maybe less True Evil. he never actually admits he's a "bad person". and hell, in scrapped lore, quackity is specifically invoking daedalus by telling sam that this is revenge For The Death Dream Gave Him down to finding the exact murder weapon in order to return the favor. sam has every reason to want revenge, and dream's attempt at manipulation doesn't look particularly favorable when we consider sam's motivations.

but when we look at sam's same description of events, it goes as follows: "Dream would like, plead for me to like, save him. And I would." and it's so crazy to me because sam makes zero mention of dream's "reasons", his list of all the specific things he has to offer sam to make his life worth it, not the book not justifications of morality not dream's promises to leave him alone. all of it gets boiled down to what dream is asking for--to be saved, and to be saved by sam. at the heart of the matter, dream is asking for his life. and when it comes down to it? that's enough. that in itself is enough. sam doesn't bend himself in half describing all the moral reasons why he makes the choice he does, doesn't weigh it all on a scale of what is deserving and what is justice and what is "good" and "evil"--dream asks for him to save him. and he would.

like. and it's like, c!dream's side of c!awesamdream is also pretty damn significant--c!dream chose c!sam as his warden, literally put his life in his hands, like. their relationship predates the prison and c!dream's feelings about c!sam are evidently complicated. i'd go as far as saying that c!dream, post-prison, shows a certain degree of familiarity and even comfort with c!sam's presence in ways that aren't really true of just about anyone else--daedalus in itself includes more 1 on 1 c!dream + c!sam time than his interactions with just about any other character post-prison. even when we see c!dream with c!punz, the first interaction we see of the two of them together immediately post-prison is very short, and the streams in the finale involve quite a lot of posturing in front of c!clingy (the saw trap still makes me laugh.) daedalus isn't entirely honest, obviously, but between c!dream going "yes i'm an evil guy but i have reasons" and telling tommy that he's (checks notes) tortured vikkstar + lazar for months and decided to kill everyone to become immortal with punz and is going to kill one of c!clingy as an experiment to see how "dying a hero" influences limbo (?????) i'm kinda willing to bet that the former is a little bit more truthful to what we know about c!dream's character. but all of this makes sense,,, obviously. trauma bonding is a hell of a drug and c!dream spent a whole ass year together in the prison--his messy relationship with c!sam (and Insistence on calling them friends, which, although obviously used ironically is still kinda crazy considering) gives me brainworms, but is far from unreasonable considering the circumstances.

c!sam, on the other hand, has built his entire fucking identity around dream at this point . and the kicker is that dream doesn't even recognize to what extent this is true. they are so

#c!awesamdream #not even talking abt them as a ship rn LMAO but ill tag it anyway #c!awesamdream /p <- i jest i jest #thinking about them ...

39 notes · View notes

artdivadej · 4 months

Text

Survivor's Remorse (XVII)

Part one

Part 11+

Peeta

"Peeta look, I need you to understand something about your gal...and you need to keep an open mind", Haymitch sighed scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"There's not much that would surprise me at this point"

"He says that now", Johanna snorts with a wicked grin.

"Shut it Johanna", Haymitch hisses, before turning back to Peeta "Good to know. But ummm. Shit", Haymitch fumbled.

"Haymitch is it some big secret or something I'm not supposed to know about?" Peeta asked looking back and forth between him and Johanna, knowing you regarded her as a sister and told her everything. "Is it why she's been avoiding me?"

"It's not that. It's just really personal and I thought...what with you two actually getting on the way you were, it wouldn't be a problem. I didn't think she'd be going through this anymore"

"Is it an episode? Is she alright?", Peeta asked quickly, his voice cracking with fear.

"Not...exactly? It's an episode of sorts. Do you remember her explaining about the splicing that Snow did to her?"

"Yeah. How are they related?"

"The way she asked you to bite her ass before, aint gonna be nothing compared to what she does to you this week", Johanna snickers.

"She can't help that this happens to her, ok boy?", Haymitch growled before pushing on, bringing his flask to his lips.

"Haymitch what's happening to her!", Peeta began to panic in his desperation, his voice rising.

"About twice a year, the feline DNA takes over. She goes through what Beetee calls 'heat'. Before, she'd have to sit in the house for a few weeks to just sweat it out and suffer through it alone. But now...since she's got you back", Haymitch begins, his lips twisting with distaste and discomfort.

"Hey I helped! I sent plenty of toys"

"Heat?", Peeta's brow raises with confusion, not quite understanding the meaning behind the simple word, or why you'd need toys from Johanna.

"Sex boy! Her body forces her into a concupiscent state where she has to copulate. Because she couldn't do it before, she just had to suffer through it. Try and get it out herself. But it's practically a breeding instinct that she can't control"

Peeta felt the blush start from his collar, before it flared up to his hairline. Oh. Johanna's wicked grin only deepened as she watched him realize what he'd be dealing with for the next couple of weeks.

"Now you're getting it boy", Haymitch sighed with exasperation as he took another swig.

"Is it bad?"

"She produces a pheromone that drives her and us wild. People can smell it within a 500-yard radius. It's why her home was sheltered off at the far end of the Victors Village. Its disorienting and raises the testosterone levels of anyone who gets a whiff. Even I can't get near her without affects and I don't find a damn thing about her womanly", he spat with revulsion.

"Hell, I do. I don't mind it. It's gonna make my sex life even hotter!", Johanna smirked.

"Which means?"

"You'll be out of the public eye for the next week or so. It may go faster since she has what she really wants. We'll all keep you both supplied with food and water, but I doubt sweetheart'll let you out that room until it's gone down some. Like I said before, she can't help it. You're all she's ever wanted and I'm sure the heat will only amplify that when she gets a whiff of you. I'm taking a room on the other side of the manor so I can't hear a damn thing I know will be coming out that room. You two are the worst at keeping quiet. And keep that damn window closed! Or else the whole of the damn Justice Hall will be able to smell you two!"

"I'm staying in the same hall. I plan on using you two to make this week pure debauchery with Onyx and Gale. They'll both be showering me in every slutty fantasy I've ever dreamed of. He and they are going to put their names all over this hot bod", Johanna grinned wickedly. "We thank you for your service"

Peeta felt like he would combust if they said another word but, he had one more question.

"Is there a way to stop it? Or at least dull the sense so she can function? I don't like the idea of her suffering"

"You'll be doing your part to stop that all week. In the meantime, here", Haymitch grumbled shoving a familiar thick red notebook into Peeta's hands. He'd seen you with this when you scurried away from him two days ago. "Aurelius wants you to write. As much as you can, when you can. Whether you're clear headed or not. About everything you feel, see and think. The same goes for her. Snow had her file destroyed so she'd have to find all the answers to the splicing that he did by herself. Beetee and Prim have been working hard these past few years to help figure it out. A lot that we've learned has been because of her impulses and responses to things, but this could really help answer a lot of those questions"

"I will"

"Get going. She's been suffering for two days already. Come get me when she's better", He grumbled turning on heel and stomping down the hall. "Say bye bye to that back boy!", he snarked before disappearing around the corner.

"Yeah she's definitely gonna shred your shit", Johanna giggled pushing Peeta towards the hall. "I filed and styled her nails 3 days ago so you shouldn't be too bad. You're welcome loverboy. Now get going. Nothing worse than needing to cum and you can't get your rocks off"

Peeta groaned but made his way towards the bedroom. The idea of being locked away with you for weeks on end, just drowning in your passion wasn't the problem. Everyone in the building knowing about it was. It felt like such an invasion of a world the two of you had always held so private and sacred. Peeta was glad the staff was minimal right now.

Excerpt from Survivor's Remorse ch 17. Heated

Now available on Wattpad

Maddink0318

#i love peeta #peeta smut #peeta mellark #peeta mellark smut #peeta mellark x reader #peeta my beloved #peeta x reader #thg peeta #the hunger games peeta #team peeta #survivors remorse #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games fanfic

23 notes · View notes

jazwritesalot · 1 year

Text

Into the Ocean

Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou/Bakugou Katsuki, KiriBaku Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia, My Hero Academia Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 2,363 Tags: Aged Up Characters, Alternate Universe- No Quirks, Hydrophobic Bakugou, Lifeguard Kirishima, Drowning, CPR, Panic Attacks, Hydrophobia

Link to AO3

Commission piece for Foxglove on Twitter

Summary: When Bakugou, Kaminari, Sero, and Mina go to the beach, what could possibly go wrong? At least there was a handsome red headed lifeguard for Bakugou to watch as the day goes downhill.

Katsuki wondered how he allowed himself to get into this mess. Scratch that—he knew how, but he was unsure of why he let himself. He should be immune to Dunce Face's antics by now, especially his puppy dog pout. But him, in combination with Soy Sauce Face and Raccoon Eyes all begging at once? There was only so much a man could take before he broke down. Which is how he found himself at the beach with the gaggle of idiots, who were hooting and hollering about "ocean time." Whatever, the idiots could go play in the water all they want. He'll just read and work on his tan. And, unbeknownst to everyone else, would be ogling the tall, red headed hunk of a lifeguard that was stationed at their corner of the beach. It was a win-win in his eyes.

It wasn't the first time the idiots had dragged him to the beach, much to his dismay. But at the same time, it wasn't the first time that Katsuki had the privilege of such beautiful eye candy to distract him from his friends' insanity. The lifeguard was all muscle wrapped up in a deliciously small speedo. Katsuki was only human, after all. How could he not appreciate such a fine specimen of a man? He was certain that the damn himbo wore the speedo to give him heart failure each time they were there—there was no way that it was regulation gear.

Katsuki knew it probably was in bad taste to continue to stare at him like he was over the top of his book, but fuck it if he cared. It wasn’t like he was paying him any attention anyway, given that he was laser-focused on watching the patrons of the beach who were enjoying the water. Not that it wouldever be Katsuki. No siree—he’d rather eat a bucket of nails before being caught dead in a body of water like that. His hydrophobia wouldn’t let him, anyway. Not that he fearedall water: he could wash himself just fine. It was just open waters, like the ocean, lakes, ponds, or pools, that set off the panic attacks tied into his phobia. So, he was content to just watch his friends fool around in the water when he was forced to come.

Today was a particularly hot one, with Katsuki fanning himself with his book every couple of minutes due to the lack of a breeze. The sun was blazing, his umbrella providing a little relief from the oppressive rays. He peeked over the edge of his book as he turned the page, scanning the beach for his friends. Kaminari and Sero were in the water, splashing away at one another like the idiots that they were. Mina was nowhere near them—instead she was chatting to the lifeguard,his lifeguard. What the hell? They were both laughing at whatever the redhead said, Mina wiping tears away from her eyes. He huffed, turning another page. Since when did she get so chummy with him anyway? He caught motion out of the corner of his eye, and he looked up to see Mina pointing at him and the lifeguard’s face turning bright red. Huh? He quickly averted his eyes, not wanting to be caught staring.

His mind was reeling with the possibilities of what they could have been talking about. Did Mina somehow catch him looking at the lifeguard last time they were all at the beach? Was she warning him to look out for his wandering eyes? Or, was Katsuki’s deepest fantasies of the man being into men slowly becoming true? Not that he could go over and ask him, of course. That would just be too weird. He closed his book, mind too preoccupied with the what ifs to be able to focus on the pages. Whatever. That was cool. He could just take a nap and work on his tan. Responsibly, of course. And if he put on a show, lathering himself up with sunscreen as he caught the lifeguard looking over his way again as he and Mina talked, well, that would be his secret to keep. Once he made sure he was nice and covered, he set an alarm on his phone and spread his towel out outside of the protection of his umbrella, ready to allow himself to catch some rays and let his mind wander away into daydream territory, the big red himbo center stage of his fantasies. A smirk was on his face as he closed his eyes, drifting off quickly.

~~~

Katsuki awoke with a start, confusion taking hold of him as he tried to place why he was so forcefully woken up. His alarm had never done this to him before. The brain fog of sleep quickly escaped him as the panic began to set in, his mind and body catching up to the reason he was awake. Frigid water enveloped him, the waves cresting over him, threatening to pull him over. He was in the fucking ocean. What the actual fuck? When did this happen? How did this happen?

The answer as to how came in the form of Kaminari’s idiotic laugh, telling him to “loosen up” and to enjoy the beach like a “normal person.” He and Sero snickered, swimming circles around him as he tried to keep the full panic at bay, more intent on keeping himself afloat rather than committing murder. The secret he had kept from his friends was that he didnot know how to swim. Why would he ever learn, when he was terrified of water in the first place?

Another wave came, pulling him under and further away from his friends. What was the word that they always said to watch out for when swimming? Oh yeah, riptides. Unluckily for Katsuki, it seemed like he was captured in one as he was pulled further and further from his friends. The waves were unforgiving, cresting over him as the current below the surface continued to pull him under. He flailed his arms, trying to gain some sort of purchase in the water, but failing miserably. This was it—this was how he was going to die. Death by his friends’ stupid antics.

His heart was racing in his chest, both from the exertion to stay afloat and the panic that was settling into his very bones. Shudders ran through him, the feeling of the water encapsulating him causing him to clench his jaw. It felt slimy; it felt gross; it felt worse than a shower ever did. He could feel fish rubbing against his legs and feet as he kicked them, trying to tread the water. Another sharp pull of the current brought him underneath the murky water, the salt stinging his eyes and his lungs being filled with water as he accidentally swallowed instead of holding his breath. Was this really it? Was he going to die by the one thing he was terrified the most of? Maybe it was a mistake to not have told his friends about his phobia—maybe if he had told them, he wouldn’t have been put into this life-or-death situation like he was. His pride would have been wounded, sure, but better to have damaged pride than no life.

He heard a whistle blowing in the distance, though it was muffled by the water that was clogging his ears. He closed his eyes, the burning in his lungs becoming too much as he tried and failed to cough up all of the water that he had swallowed. His movements became more and more sluggish the longer he was out in the water as his body became tired from fighting the water. Just as he started to sink further, all fight leaving him, strong arms wrapped around his midriff, pulling him out of the water and onto a hard board. He felt, rather than saw, him and his rescuer moving what he hoped was toward the sand rather than further out.

It felt like hours before they stopped even though he knew it was mere minutes. His knight in shining armor gently removed him from the board and pulled him against his muscular chest, which Katsuki was not complaining about one bit, even if his lungs felt heavy, his head foggy, and body overall shaking. His back met the warmth of the sand, which set off another round of shivering. He could hear muffled shouts and cries around him, but he could not pinpoint what exactly was being said. He just knew it was hard to breathe and he was pretty sure at least a fourth of the ocean was currently residing in his lungs.

It became increasingly more difficult to breathe as his nose was pinched shut, which frustrated Katsuki to no end. First the ocean tried to kill him, and now something else? Can’t a man catch a break? Something soft and warm pressed against his mouth, forcefully pushing air into his lungs, which triggered a coughing fit. His eyes bugged open as he turned to his side, coughing hard and hacking out all the seawater that had been trapped inside him. He felt a warm towel being wrapped around his shivering form, a flash of red being caught in his peripherals. As the coughing fit subsided, the fatigue set in. He could have died. Holy shit. A small amount of shame also weaved its way into him—shame that he had to be rescued like some damsel in distress instead of being able to take care of himself. He shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts and clear his ears of the stubborn water that was sticking around. His ears cleared out and he was immediately met with the sounds of roaring waves, seagulls squawking, and the hottest voice he had ever heard absolutely tearing into someone.

“Do you even know how irresponsible you were being? There are reasons why you don’t fool around at the beach! You really put your friend in a lot of danger today!” Katsuki looked over to see the hunky lifeguard scolding the fuck out of Dunce Face and Sero, who both looked ashamed, as they should.

“We didn’t know he couldn’t swim…” Kaminari started, but was cut off by the lifeguard.

"Regardless, that still doesn’t mean you can drag someone, who issleeping, and throw him into the freaking ocean. How would you have liked it if someone would have done that to you?”

“I mean, I would have thought it was funny…” Sero trailed off, stopping as the sharp crimson eyes turned to him.

“What part of ‘your friend could have died’ do you guys not fucking understand? You threw him into a rip current. All of you are lucky that I was able to get to him in time before he was pulled too far out.” Katsuki knew he probably shouldn’t be getting slightly turned on by the fact that his friends were being chewed out, but hearing someone defending him just did it for him.

“I-it’s alright,” he croaked out, hating at how hoarse his voice sounded. “The idiots didn’t know, and I probably shouldn’t have fallen asleep without telling them to fuck off and leave me alone. Besides, you were there to help me.” The gaze turned over to him, still blazing with anger, but slightly softer as he took in Katsuki’s shivering form.

“You’re really lucky I caught on to what your friends here were doing. I just wish I had been able to stop thembefore they got you into the water.” He sent another glare over at Kaminari and Sero, who sheepishly apologized before taking off to find wherever Mina had wandered off to. “Are you okay, though? Like for real.”

“I mean, I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not freaked out. I’ve got hydrophobia, so that was my worst nightmare come to life,” Katsuki admitted, ears burning bright as he told a total stranger his story.

“Ah, that is rough. I was wondering why I’ve never seen you get in the water all the times you’ve been here with your friends. I just assumed it was because you didn’t know how to swim.”

“Well, I don’t know how to swim. Kinda goes with the whole hydrophobia thing. Though, I’m alive, so maybe bodies of water aren’tas terrifying as I thought they were.” They arrived back at Katsuki’s belongings when the second half of his sentence registered with him. “Wait? All the times I’ve been here? Have you been checking me out or something?”

“Well, you’re easy on the eyes,” the lifeguard blushed, face turning as red as his hair. “But don’t act like I haven’t seen you looking me over every time you’ve been here too.” Oh shit, he had been caught. A yell in the distance made the lifeguard look over to an equally beefy man with silver hair who was motioning him to come over to the chair.

“Hey, I gotta get going, but can I give you my number? I’d really like to take you out for dinner some time, if that’s alright with you? “ He could tell the other man was shooting his shot, and Katsuki would be damned if he turned down such an opportunity.

“Sure,” he said, handing over his phone for the redhead to put his name and number in. “On one condition, though.”

“And that would be?” he asked with a quirked up eyebrow, handing the phone back over to Katsuki, who gave him a wolf-like smile.

“Dinner is good, but only after swimming lessons.” The redhead—Kirishima—laughed, clapping him on the shoulder with a huge grin on his face.

“Sounds like a plan to me, man!” He hit his fists together in a weird pose before running off to join the silver-haired man at the lifeguard post. Katsuki got himself re-settled on his towel, book in hand. As he let himself get lost in the pages once again as they all finished out their beach trip, he was thankful for his phobia for the first time ever. And, he was looking forward to his swimming lessons.

#jaz writes #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #kiribaku #commission piece #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #also on ao3 and twitter

7 notes · View notes

xadoheandterra · 1 year

Text

Series: Semblance Title: Patriciate Fandom: Jak and Daxter Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI | XVI | Characters: Jak, Daxter, Samos, Keira, Kid!Jak, Ashelin, Torn, Tess Tags: Worldbuilding, Accidentally King of Haven!Jak, hurt/comfort, things go wrong, things get better, things get worse again, slow build, slow burn, slow to update, cross posted, fantasy racism, canon divergence, been meaning to share this here Summary: “It’s yours,” Jak said softly. “Keep it…remember where you come from. At least one of us should remember….”

If Jak knew the consequences of that one, selfish choice…well, he’d probably have made the same decision either way.

Veger was not prepared for the Wastes to be in disarray, or for the memories that come with it.

Veger glanced out the window of the transport vehicle as it landed. The sight of the sand and desolate climate brought a bit of a curl to his lips—he’d always hated the visits to this place but needs often must and for Veger they must often. He turned his gaze from the window to Onin who sat next to him covered in a long white wrap that he found in her closet. Her fingers were wrapped tightly with the bracelet that Pecker had given her once upon a time. Veger sighed.

“Mother,” he said, and kept his tone soft as he spoke, well aware of her delicate state. “We have arrived in the Wastes.”

Onin glanced up at him from the bracelet and then back down to where her fingers were wrapped tight.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Veger murmured, and placed a hand upon Onin’s shoulder. She looked to him with blank and near unseeing eyes, and Veger wondered where her vision rested. With Pecker as he was torn apart by the Metal Heads? Or some far off future that she had no real comprehension of? Veger wondered, and then shook his head of it.

As a man of science Veger really did not like to ponder Onin’s penchant for ‘Prophecy’ and the foolish notion that it truly existed. As her son however he’d grown up with Words and words and Veger often knew the effects of Eco upon elfin kind were vast and varied and resulted in some very unusual abilities. Prophecy, of course, being the one that primarily ran itself through his side of the family. Veger felt rather happy that the whole mess skipped his generation, even if it left the girl to take the brunt of it.

“Afan,” Veger said shortly toward the transport technician; Afan turned his head and regarded him through red tinted goggles, well used to these frequent visits of the Count. “Don’t let any of those…people near the transport. We should be back within a few hours if all goes well.”

Afan nodded. “I’ll radio if anything changes, or if I need to leave before your time is up.”

With a nod Veger turned around and carefully began to gather up Onin in her wrap. “Come Mother,” he said gently, “let us go see Seem.”

Onin’s mouth moved, formed the name Seem silently and Veger felt a little bit of himself relax. If she could focus on the girl, then she could probably recover to be useful enough in the future. Onin always knew the right words to point him in the right direction, and Veger really needed that now more than ever. With the line of Mar back in power, once more spreading their divine nonsenses and blessed bloodline foolishness Veger found himself at a standstill of how he could get everything back on track. That damned Jak—the weapon of Praxis’ remains that walked about as if it were King—pah, Veger would handle that soon enough; he just needed Onin well first.

The transport door opened and immediately the desert air brushed against Veger’s face and he grimaced. The climate never agreed with him—too hot, too humid and arid and every -id under the sun, really. He detested the warmth, the way it seeped beneath his clothes and made him sweat something unholy. Carefully Veger moved Onin down the steps of the ramp into the sand that dug into the seams of his shoes. He lifted one and shook it; damn things would need to be replaced now. Sand remained that one impossible thing to remove.

“Come, Mother,” Veger said, and pushed Onin away from the transport and out into the desert heat fully. The sun baked down upon them as they moved; thankfully the transport pad rested close to the shadow of a cliff face, and one of the entrances to the Precusor Monks’ vast chambers. It always amused Veger how people seemed to think so little of the Monks, when really they numbered almost as large as a small encampment. A pity that they were all known to one another; good channelers were hard to come by in this day and age.

Curse Brandon, Veger thought bitterly. He could’ve had more chances to study the way eco interacted with a channeler that had no baseline substance if the man hadn’t swept every possible candidate into his weapons program. Look what it got them in the end, too—nothing but a broken tool, with too inflated of an ego to see the damage it was doing. Veger huffed as he shifted Onin now out of the sun and into the blessed cool breeze in the shadows.

“There we go,” Veger said gently as he settled her against the cliff. “I will go and check on the entrance. You stay here, Mother.”

Onin signed out one word—fingers shaky as they moved, and clumsy around the bracelet. Return?

Veger crouched down next to Onin and tried not to imagine the way the sand would get into the hem of his pants or his jacket—he’d need to replace those too, damn it all. Instead he gave Onin the best, reassuring smile he could given everything that had happened. It might’ve wavered at the edges of cold, but Onin knew him well enough to understand that cold was just Veger’s way.

“Obviously, Mother,” Veger said. “I will have Precursor Monks as my guard.”

Onin regarded him, eyes clear and serious for a moment, and then she nodded sharply and drifted back off into the distance where Veger couldn’t follow her. He sighed heavily and climbed to his feet, watched the way her gaze tracked down to the bracelet, and then turned sharply on heel as he moved away from her.

The temple was a mess, more than Veger felt used to seeing. Monks moved back and forth through hastily piled mounds of debris, broken shards of pottery or mountainside from some event that Veger lacked the knowledge of. They pushed pallets that contained barrels of eco from the Monks' personal stores that they hoarded like gold, now out in the open for any visitor to see. Not that the Precursor Monks ever really had visitors inside the temple; they kept their secrets guarded close to their chest after all. More than once since Veger entered the temple he had to quickly duck out of the path of the rushed pallets as Monks paid him little mind as they moved about their sanctuary.

Veger pressed his lips thin; he wondered if this had any ties to the mess back in Haven, or perhaps Pecker's untimely, and unexpected, passing. He knew Onin suffered from visions since the event, more incoherent than ever before. Veger could barely pull her back himself, hence this trip to the desert wasteland and the Precursor Monks inner sanctuary. Only Seem, the reckless child that she was, could parse the mess that was Onin's mind now. At least Veger hoped she would; it would be his damned luck if the girl turned out useless as everything else, after all.

"Master Veger."

Veger turned and regarded the lithe, painted and armored form that had made its way to his side silently. He recognized this Monk, the one who often took Seem under her wing ever since she'd been left to the Monks' vaunted Order for safeguarding. Veger inclined his head slightly in greeting. "Elder Shale," Veger said, voice deceptively light.

"Your presence was not anticipated," Shale said. "I apologize for the poor greeting. Please, follow me." Shale dipped her head and turned silently to lead Veger through the debris and hallway. Veger noted how she took him from the main thoroughfare where the pallets of eco barrels were being quickly moved. Instead she led him down smaller corridors that provided pathways to personal rooms. Even here the debris had not yet been cleaned, but hastily swept aside.

"Busy, aren't we?" Veger murmured as he toed around a pile of debris.

"There as been an Emergency," Shale uttered. "If we had known of your coming we would have warned you to reschedule." Veger's lip curled at the faint rebuke in her words, and then curled further when he recognized where Shale brought him.

With lips pressed together Veger gripped his cane tightly in one hand and stopped in front of the door Shale led him to. He turned on heel and looked at her, gaze stony. "Where is Seem."

Shale dipped her head. "Young Master Seem at this moment is overseeing the Emergency. I apologize, Master Veger. She is not anticipated to return for some time." Shale gestured toward the door. "You may rest here, for now. I must return to oversee the Acolytes who are taking inventory at this time."

Veger fought the urge to snarl, and instead said tightly, "I did not travel alone," before Shale could take leave of him. This brought the Elder short, and she looked to Veger almost surprised. "I require Seem's presence. Immediately."

"I am sorry, Master Veger, but Seem is not within the Sanctuary," Shale said, words short. "Who is this companion of yours and where have you left them? The Sands are not safe, right now."

Veger waved a hand. "I know that thunder season is upon us but I hardly consider that a threat--"

"There was a quake," Shale interrupted. She gestured to the mess around them. "As you can see we too have suffered some structural concerns. We were not the only ones hurt. The Sands are not safe, Master Veger. Who is your guest?"

A quake--Veger tightened his grip. There hadn't been any quake in the desert in decades. Not since the volcano had settled into some manner of slumber before Veger had even been born. The ground didn't even suffer from any sort of fault lines like those seen closer to the Brink shrouded in mist as that area of the world was. Veger sucked in a deep breath and relaxed his stance slightly; if this were truly some form of quake then no doubt Seem would be in the right middle of it, with Damas at the helm for whatever mess surrounded them. Veger didn't want to bother with Damas, which meant he'd be forced to wait until whatever business the girl hand concluded, as much as it irritated him to do so.

"I have brought Mother," Veger said, words light. "She waits in the shade outside."

Shale, conversely, went stiff with Veger's words. "Prophet Onin?" Shale questioned. "You brought her here?"

Veger pursed his lips. "I said I require Seem. Now do you understand why?"

Shale scrutinized him, then closed her eyes with a heavy breath. "Very well. Please wait here Master Veger and I shall receive the Prophet. A missive will be sent to Young Master Seem at the earliest convenience. For your safety I ask that you do not leave the apartments."

Veger inclined his head in agreement. A moment longer of staring at one another and then Shale turned on silent feet and left. Veger watched her until she turned the corner, and then let his gaze linger upon the door in front of him. His hands clasped the head of his cane tightly in an effort to still them as he stared at the nameplate upon the door, the one that signaled the owner of these apartments.

Jetta ; Nimat

Veger closed his eyes and breathed to steady himself before he pressed the door open. He expected a fine layer of dust; it had been years after all since he last visited this place. He had no desire to relive the memories here, so he often kept his visits brief when he came to the temple and the Sanctuary. Yet the counters were clean, not a speck of dust in sight. The entire space was kept as it was when Veger had last stepped foot into the apartments--including the glass on the counter, although no water filled it now, and Veger noted it had been shaken out of place.

The cane in his hand Veger settled into the small stand by the door once he picked it back up from where it had fallen. He shrugged his coat off and slipped it onto the coatrack as he stepped further into the apartments that he once spent so much time in. He ran his fingers along the couch, an old thing he'd brought with him from Haven once. It's color had faded, and there were more signs of wear on it for not having been used in nearly a decade. Mothflies, Veger figured given the few holes in the fabric. He stepped around the couch and looked to one of the doors that led to a further room. After a second Veger turned his head away.

He lacked the desire to see that old room, for now. All it would do is to serve as a reminder of times he'd rather kept behind him as much as possible. Seem was plenty enough of a reminder for Veger these days; her face in that heart shape that he once knew so well. Veger shook his head and shuttered the thoughts and memories. Jetta was gone. He didn't need to delve into the past again, even if here all it did was stare at him in his face.

"I do not like this," Seem said in a rasp as she watched Damas gather together an offering for the Clans and Chieftain Aermsmin.

Damas shook his head and uttered softly, "If Aermsmin has asked for me, after everything, I will honor his request." Damas knew how the Clans viewed him. They had their reasons to deny him, and to deny Spargus both. The tensions between Spargans and the Clans were an older thing, and Damas knew his own presence and his family bloodline certainly hadn't made things any better. Aermsmin had been kind, for a given meaning of the word, once in the early days of Damas' time in the desert wasteland. At least until Sia and Sig came into his life.

"The Clans are not known for their understanding," Seem pointed out. "You have not been a part of talks as far as my memory holds, Lord Damas."

"For good reason, I assure you," Damas said wryly. His shoulder burned with the painful memory of the last time he saw Aermsmin and the Clans.

From his corner of the room Talin rolled his eyes. "We shared drink, Master Seem. Aermsmin will honor truce for this meeting, no matter what bad blood is between the Clans and Spargus." Seem pursed her lips, but she knew when she was outnumbered.

"Master Talin," Damas gestured for Talin to come over and look at what he had gathered. "Anything here that might offend?"

Talin walked over and looked at the gathered items, then carefully sectioned out the few Spargan beacons that were scattered on the table, set aside the chip marked water and another chip marked medical supplies and tapped one chip that was marked with cactus wine.

"This will be your best option," Talin said. "Cactus Wine is easy enough for both sides to acquire if they so wish, and so will not be seen as an insult to provide. Instead it offers a drink to bind agreements, and you bringing it would show your willingness to bend to those agreements." Talin glanced up at Damas and licked his lips. "I know the Clans do not look favorably upon you."

"Yes," Damas said rather bluntly. "I am aware of the moniker that...Aermsmin has taken to calling me." He huffed a sort of bitter laugh. "Deceiver, isn't it?"

Talin ducked his head. "Yes, sir." He breathed out. "While I can see your other offers are meant in good faith, providing water, food, or medical supplies without the Chieftain discussing it with you can be seen as insult and flaunting wealth. There is enough bad blood between Spargus and the Clans that it would be better not to perpetuate more. If the Chieftain relays the need of the Clans for such, then you can bring these items to the table." Talin touched lightly on the chips, and then moved to the chip marked for Spargus beacons. "As for the beacons..."

"I offer them in good faith," Damas said. "I know Aermsmin has family."

"Yes." Talin looked at the beacon with a complicated gaze, brow furrowed and lips pressed together as he thought. "The Clans have...very different views about their people and safety. We--they--are trained to handle the desert and Her Gifts--the difficulties within. Since there is typically no stable camp, and the Clans move based upon the winds and the shifting of the sands, they need to be hardy. If one dies, it is either their time, or their failing at survival. To ask for help..." Talin bit his lip for a second and then shook his head. "If you need help, then you are not ready and should not have gone in the first place. Your failing is your own."

"He will not accept the beacons, then?" Damas questioned quietly. "Not even for you?"

Talin touched the chip, and then pushed it away. "I would rather he didn't." In silence Damas took the chip and handed it over to Dag, then pocketed the remaining chips for aid and picked up the chip of cactus wine.

"Dag," Damas said, and Dag tilted his head. "How quickly can we get some Cactus Wine?"

Dag cocked his head to the opposite side and ran some quick calculations in his head. "An hour or so, I think. We have some stored in the wine cellar, if I'm not mistaken. Do you want me to ask Sia to grab some?"

"No," Damas shook his head. "I'll call my wife myself." With a heavy breath Damas stepped away from the table and pulled out his communicator. He stepped out of the tent and into the desert heat and flicked through files and names until he landed upon Sia's contact information. For a moment Damas walked through camp, communicator in hand as he tapped it against his palm, lips pressed in thought. He reached the edge of the camp and looked at her contact name again, for a moment, hovered over the call button--and then flicked his thumb and changed it to Sig last moment.

You're stalling, Damas berated himself silently as the communicator beeped steadily in an attempt to reach Sig. Why bother stalling? It isn't as if she won't receive you.

Damas chewed on his lip and began to pace. Would she, though? he wondered. How long had it been since he'd honestly looked upon Sia, since they'd spoken? She'd cloistered herself away almost a year ago now; silence permeated their home between them like a rift--the reason souring the distance between them, embittering any sort of communication they might've had. Damas clenched the communicator tight and grit his teeth at the thought--Mar, his sweet child, gone for a year and a half now.

Static crackled through the communicator, a faint squeal, and then hazy and nearly masked by interference Damas heard, "Damas?" in what he guessed were Sig's dulcet tones. Damas slouched against a stone and sighed heavily.

"Sig," Damas said tiredly. "Do you have any news for me?"

For a moment the interference cut across the communicator, and then Sig's voice cut back in. Half of the words he said were lost, but what little Damas could hear had his lips pressed thin and downward into thought. "not--little Mar--commu--embargo."

"The fuck is Brandon doing?" Damas ground through his teeth. "A communications embargo....?"

"--dead--" more static and a squeal of interference cut through Sig's words. "--Kor--city atta--" Damas rubbed at his face, let the partial words and quarter sentences wash over him while he thought. "--wrecked--restor--work--by--King." Damas straightened at the last word as Sig went silent.

"That title belongs to my House," Damas said, words soft, brow furrowed. "Who..."

"--looks like you," Sig said, half sentence gone but enough to make Damas still completely. He could take a guess at the words, but it still left him just a bit on the edge of breathless as he uttered a faint, "Mar?"

"No," Sig said, clearest he'd been so far. "Not--" More static cut across and then a short squeal and half of the word 'teenager' came through, enough to tell Damas that either there was a bastard line out there, or something worse. Damas didn't want to think about what that something worse could even be. What it also told Damas was that there was still no sign of his missing son, a son he'd been certain stolen to Haven. Damas hand shook and he bowed his head.

Perhaps Sia was right to mourn, Damas thought. Maybe it was time to admit to a truth he dared not believe. His hands clenched tight over the communicator and he murmured a short thanks to Sig before he cut off communication. The Wastelander would contact him when he had a better connection, if only to make sure Damas hadn't gone and done something stupid given the abrupt disconnection. Damas stared at the device, thumbed Sia's name, and before he could trick himself into calling someone else he pushed the button to connect.

Sia picked up immediately, but she did not speak. Damas didn't for a moment either; they both just listened to the sound of their own breathing through the tinny quality of the communicator--and then Damas sighed, heavy with words he couldn't say--thoughts he couldn't name. Instead Damas said a soft, "Love," to Sia, filled with everything he felt and everything he could not let himself being of House Mar.

On the other side of the communicator, Sia sighed in response. A softer, quieter, "Love," was given back to him and Damas had to fight back the sudden burning in his heart, the pain in his eyes, and the way his breath wanted to hitch. Right now there were other things he had to focus on--things to keep his people safe from the dangers below their feet. Right now it would have to be enough. They would speak once the crisis had been handled. Sia deserved that much.

#fic: patriciate #fic: semblance #accidentally king of haven #jak and daxter #fanifc #wip #crossposted #canon divergence

2 notes · View notes

honeybee-taskforce · 4 months

Text

1x02 Rewatch Thoughts and Feelings

same disclaimer i’m on my phone typos and grammar errors can be invoiced to my publicist for review (its me)

-I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH what a fuckin fever dream hearing that song again

-oh wow they are grilling the hell out of him for this routine lmfao i forgot how much they tease him about all of this

-this was one of those scenes i mentioned where the emergency escalated so quick and was not what i expected it to be at all lmfao

-the aging with the bird box netflix comment zzzzzz i hate when media does this but i can overlook it here

-paul doing a thing we need another of these on season five. TWO if i may be so brave to request

-where the hell did this delivery driver even get the mercury for this now that i really think about it

-there’s some weird liberty mutual ad playing right now that has a baby talking about insurance im kind of in awe at the absurdity

-owen struggling to let go of his hair treatment goofy ass

-judd in therapy hits so hard ugh grace being there with him and he is truly trying and even has his comfort pillow for hugging because he needs something but it just isnt enough yet my heart hurts for him so much

-i forgot that grace is near sobbing when he leaves jesus christ that hurts too she loves this man so much and his pain is hers (and vice versa of course) i’m so glad that never goes away as the show goes on. Even if i could use more of it.

-michelle helping this little boy is a great foil to her introduction and i love it a lot, BUT overall i can’t find a way to care about this whole plot with Iris missing. Probably because i know it doesn’t go anywhere after this season except for the start of season 4…. I really wonder how different everything would have been had liv stayed and plot lines not adjusted accordingly. -“what the pissed off look on my fave aint enough proof” judd you teddy bear you know its not lmfao

-“he doesn’t know i’m sick” YOU NEED TO TELL HIMMMMMM

-my extended family cooks a pig just like this in a pit and everything and it tastes soooooo good

-“but just so you know i am a homosexual 😉” this whole bit is so silly and i like that they added it after a few intense back to back bits with the first emergency, michelle’s stuff, and owen’s chat with judd

-shakes ass to last night in my stillettos while these two hook up for the first and definitely not the last time

-tk give him back his damn belt you know that is not yours you rude city boy!

-carlos is all doe eye and soulmate smitten ahhhhh you cutie pie

-michelle goes to a psychic what the hell i dont remember this. BUT NOW IM REALIZING ITS THE SAME LADY WITH THE WORMS LATER ON IN THE SHOW HUHHHHH (right? Or am i losing my mind)

-spongebob movie voice: BALD BALD BALD BALD BALD

-the lady leaving herself to die in a fire because hes bald????? I know its a nightmare but wtf i forgot about all of that too 😭

-owen embracing this guy’s fantasy about the overlords but not being able to wrap his own head around his health’s reality is heartbreaking… at least he’s forced to address it once TK finds the meds

-owen and judd riding horses already getting that brotherly bond started ooooo i love them so much

-oh god first date time oh wow olay here we go CARLOS YOU'RE SO SMITTEN BUT NOWS NOT THE TIIIIME

-the boys miscommunicating for the first and certainly not the last time but its okay because it’s all a part of their story <3

-carlos calling this a hookup boy you know damn well that is not how you feel about this

-tk is so sad when he apologizes for the misunderstanding because the last thing he wants is to hurt anyone else but he can’t stop himself and it all just gets worse and worse in his eyes…. At least we know it gets better eventually. -grace helping judd count to 5 and she is so proud of him oh i love these two so goddamn much they are perfect and i need even more of them in season five

-does every episode of season 1 end with a song playing over a montage of stuff happening like did i just block that from my memory

-owen taking the first step to being more comfortable with his reality outside of the obvious therapy and treatments ugh so good.

god season one feels like a completely different show from the rest of it? Obviously the changes with casting and covid messed somethings up but i wonder how different everything would have been had the pandemic not happened and they were able to collow through on plot lines they wanted to from the beginning

#honeybeewatchforce #911 lone star rewatch 2024 #911 lone star

0 notes

miekasa · 3 years

Note

do you have any cute (or h-word) bf headcanons for the Aot boys mie?

Of course I do, I have an ever-expanding list of headcanons for all of them, from how they react to you sitting in the backseat when they pick you up, down to whether or not they would rip your bandages off after your get a shot (spoiler: Eren, Porco, and Levi fucking would)

EREN sfw

He really likes holding hands, though it’s more of a calming habit for him. Holding hands keeps him grounded, and acts as an anchor for his anxiety; so he’ll grab and/or fidget with yours periodically.

He’ll steal your skincare if he’s over at your place, but honestly he just starts… copying it lmfao. Like, he’ll take notice of your face wash when he’s over he’s like “Oh, this is nice” and then a week later, he buys a bottle for himself. Then he buys your toner, and your moisturizer, and you stay over at his place and gotta do a double take bc he’s got damn near the same of everything at this point.

He doesn’t know if he believes that classical music actually helps him to concentrate, but he does know that he’s grown to like it, so it’s become his studying music of choice. He’s got favorite composers and everything.

He’d be upset if you didn’t steal his hoodies. That’s what they’re there for. He’ll make you steal them if he has to.

He hates standing in line. For anything. If he likes a restaurant that gets super busy at lunch, he’ll order ahead for pickup (and he feels special skipping the line). At amusement parks, he pays for the fast passes. If it’s shopping, then he’d rather just do it online.

On that note, he sucks at returning things that don’t fit/he doesn’t like when he shops online, so he honestly just keeps them, or gives them to his friends—it’s much easier than going through the hassle of printing a return label, according to him.

nsfw

He likes the idea of recording you guys during sex, but he’s honestly a little too nervous to do it—nervous about being recorded himself, and about it potentially getting out somewhere.

Likes it when you look him in the eyes when you cum. In fact, he somewhat demands it.

Similarly, he’s always watching you during sex. Mostly your face, for indications of how he’s making you feel and when you’re close to your orgasm (which is why he’s got a thing for you looking at him).

He used to hate masturbating, until he tried masturbating to the idea of you, and now he fucking loves that. He takes his time with it too—if he’s gonna jack off, he’s gonna make a moment of it: sit on his bed, turn the lights off, make sure he’s all alone and can go for as long as he wants.

Threesomes are fine with him, and he doesn’t even have to be the sole one in charge, depending on who’s joining you.

ARMIN sfw

He air-dries the majority of his clothes because he doesn’t want his sweaters and knitwear to shrink. Also, he likes the smell of his fabric softener permeating the room while the clothes dry.

On a similar note, he’s got sensitive skin—not to the point where a shirt less than 75% cotton irritates him; but he is conscious of fabrics and products he uses. Because of this, he takes extra care with his laundry, his pillowcases and bedsheets are satin as are the majority of his pajama shirts, and he never ever walks around without house slippers or he’ll irritate the bottom of his feet.

He’s scared of bugs, but he doesn’t like to kill them either. Honestly, he just kinda hopes spiders and stuff will crawl away without him intervening 😭😭

He likes board games, and has a thing for The Game of Life. He cannot play chess, even though most people would guess that he could, and he’s begun to practice by playing online versions against computers to learn.

He knows everyone’s gossip because everyone comes to him to gossip. And if he’s the therapist friend, then you’re the person who receives the summary of all the tea from him at the end of the week. And man can this boy throw a bitch fest when he’s in the right mood.

nsfw

He’s got a bit of an oral fixation, so he really likes having your mouth occupied; with his fingers, with your panties, with his dick—he’s not really picky.

Likes sex with the lights on. Claims it’s because he wants to “see all of you” (it’s really because he’s nervous he’ll fuck something up if he can’t see properly 😭😭)

He really likes making out. Like, a lot. Though it’s not something that happens often—so he builds up a lot of frustrating thinking about it, and it all comes crashing down, and ends up with you guys damn near dry humping each other on the couch for two hours.

That’s something that applies to him generally, too—he tends to let himself get very frustrated and worked up, whether he means to or not. He also thinks about sex quite frequently, and it only fuels his frustration; so when he snaps, he snaps hard.

He’d let you choke him back if you asked. Just ask nicely.

JEAN sfw

Loves studying in cafés and adores when you study with him; peeps up at you periodically when you sit across from him. He always pays for your drink, but sometimes you guys share, and he likes making a game out of reaching for the cup at the same time as you.

He’s very chivalrous, but he hates when you call him out for it, or make any kind of deal of it. He knows it’s chivalry, but he also knows it’s the bare minimum, plus he’s easily embarrassed—especially in public.

Loves having his hair played with, absolutely adores it. If you’re just holding his face, or resting your hand on his cheek, he’ll move himself further into your touch to maneuver your palm closer to his hair.

He really really really likes back hugs—giving and receiving them. If he’s standing behind you, he’ll most likely reach for a hug at some point (sometimes he won’t let go and you’ve gotta waddle with him on you). His ears get red when you give him a back hug but he always uses a hand to rest over your arms to tell you that he doesn’t want you to let go.

He can play the piano, but he doesn’t tell a soul about it. The only reason you found out it through his mom. He’s got stage fright, so he gave up on performing, but he’s really talented, and can almost play any song by ear.

nsfw

He loves the feeling of your hands on him, particularly if you’ve got long nails. Please scrape your nails against his back, or even just dig them into his biceps while he’s fucking you, it’ll drive him insane.

Along with liking having his hair played with, he adores having it pulled on—the attention and desperation in your actions goes straight to his ego and his dick.

One of his biggest fantasies is getting a lap dance from you. He’d never ever fucking say it out loud or dream of asking for it, but the idea of you stripping in front of him, down to lingerie he’d picked out for you, and teasing him until he can’t take it anymore and jumps you is something he thinks about… far more often than he should.

If you’re wearing his clothes (especially one of his t-shirts to bed, or around his apartment), he’s gonna fuck you in it. Jean has a lot of self control, but that’s one thing that’ll make him snap in an instant. And if you wear his shirt or hoodie out, he’s fucking you when you get home, it’s as simple as that.

CONNIE sfw

He studies with children’s shows playing the background. He doesn’t remember how he discovered that his method works for him, all he knows is that something about Paw Patrol makes for excellent background noise for writing his research papers.

He’s quite touchy with PDA, but if you guys are in a crowd then forget about it—because Connie might forget about you. He’s definitely left you at the grocery store before.

He eats cereal for breakfast every morning, and he’s kind of got a collection of them in his kitchen. He claims there are upscale cereals that he doesn’t just let anybody eat or even touch; so, if he offers you a midnight snack consisting of a bowl of his favorite (and very rare) cereal, then be honored.

He almost always pays with cash, but he hates change. If he gets back coins, he either tells the cashier to keep them, puts them in a tip jar if there’s one in sight, or just pours them into your coat pocket. He understands that its money, but he’ll be damned if he’s just got a sack full of nickels clanging around in his bag.

nsfw

He claims he doesn’t have a thing for exhibitionism, but with the way he’s down to fuck damn near anywhere, he might be a bold faced liar. Changing rooms, music festivals, airport bathrooms, the little corner of the multilevel parking lot that he’s oh-so-certain is in the blindspot of the security cameras... there are so few things off-limits with him.

Car sex on his bucket list… just not in his car lmfao (because trust and believe that’s something that already happens pretty regularly). Maybe his real kink is vandalism and destruction of property.

He is not above begging you to sit on his face. He will get on his knees and pant like a fucking dog for you to do it, he’s so serious. He’ll do it laying down, he’ll do it with you standing up/against a wall, he’ll do it on the couch. Break his neck please he’s fucking asking for it.

He doesn’t mind sharing and he definitely doesn’t mind watching. Honestly, he’d egg you on to kiss someone else at a party, or go as far as to seduce you into seducing someone else just so he can watch it go down.

PORCO sfw

He sends you iMessage games but only the ones he’s good at because he doesn’t like to lose. But also, if he is losing, he doesn’t want you to be supportive about it and tell him “it’s okay uwu” lmfao he wants to either cream you, or have you kick his ass; competition is the name of the game, don’t be soft on him.

He’s a morning person, and he likes going on runs or even just early-morning walks when the weather is nice. He will wake you up occasionally to join him—and if you’re a homebody, you will be joining him. He won’t be responsible for watching you decompose on the couch.

Very picky about his pizza. It’s not a calorie or grease or health thing—he just really fucking likes pizza, and he won’t excuse a bad slice.

Always pulls you closer to him in a crowd or when a group of people are walking by. He doesn’t have to, but he likes to. Tease him about it and he’ll push you right back tho, probably into a shrub if there’s one near by.

nsfw

He’s such a “No, no—answer the call” kind of mf; a sadist, if you will. He lives for torturing and embarrassing you, and that applies to sex, too.

Loves the way his hands look on you, particularly splaying his hand over your stomach when he’s fucking you. Likes the heat of your body against his, when he positions himself just right to feel the outline of his dick against you, and squeezing the sides of your tummy when he gets lost in it.

Loves blowjobs, and loves to cum on you or over your face. His favorite thing tho is pulling away just before he’s about to orgasm, and jacking himself off with your tongue sticking out, ready to swallow.

Okay with threesomes, too; but he wouldn’t like to do much to or with the third person. It’s okay if they touch you—maybe even fuck you, depending on who it is—but he’s not there to get them off.

LEVI

sfw

When he cooks dinner, he always makes sure to make enough for you to have leftovers to take with you for lunch the following day. Especially if it’s a dish you’ve been wanting or try, or specifically asked him to cook.

He’s got a specific tote bag he brings with him to the grocery store/farmer’s market, and separate one for when he’s running other light errands.

He hates soda, not even just because it’s not the healthiest thing to drink—he just doesn’t like the feel of carbonated drinks; the only exception being when they’re mixed with liquor, but even then, it’s not his preference.

After a while, he just starts lying and says you’re married at places where it benefits you both, or to curb a longer conversation about the status of your relationship to people who are inquiring. He thinks it’s fucking weird that marriage is what shuts people up, but if it works, it works; less people prying in your guys’ business.

He likes giving you forehead kisses, and if you do it back, he’ll learn that he doesn’t mind receiving them either.

He’s such a sucker for you rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand when you guys hold hands. He might not act like he notices, but he always does; and somewhat craves little touches like that the longer you guys are together.

nsfw

He would never admit it to anyone, but birthday sex is up there for his favorite kind of sex. He never cared much about his birthday… until he realized he could get that as a gift. He knows it’s not different, but he likes it, nonetheless; one the few times he doesn’t mind having all the attention on him.

King of aftercare, though some of his methods usually lead to another round—in which he teases you for cancelling out his work, when you know he was just as willing and eager.

He likes edging himself and overstimulating you; and with his self-control, that makes for a pretty dangerous combination.

He’s strong and he knows how to use it to his advantage: maneuvering you with a single arm, holding both your wrists above your head with one hand, pushing your head down into the sheets when he’s fucking you from behind.

Sex is one of the few times Levi doesn’t mind making a mess—and in fact, he likes it messy; watching you drip onto the sheets, making you spit on his dick and fucking your face until you drool. He always goes on about how sloppy you are, how you can’t keep anything clean, but he fucking loves it.

#anonymous #i love writing but i hate tagging things here we go #eren x reader #aot x reader #levi x reader #armin x reader #porco galliard x reader #jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #connie springer x reader #eren smut #levi smut #eren yeager x reader #alright that's enough

2K notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

PAPER-THIN WALLS

a/n: i woke up totally in themood to write just straight up smut... and that's what i did lmao. there's not much plot in it, just a whole lot of fucking, so enjoy!

pairing: Bucky X Reader

warnings: sexual content, unprotected sex, oral, the good stuff

word count: 3.8k

masterlist

The Avengers compound was built almost perfectly with its luxurious suits, several entertainment rooms, fully equipped training areas and millions of hidden snack and drink bars all across the building. But the stress this time is on almost.

Bucky was never sure if the walls were originally built to keep less noise than in any other buildings, or if it was just his super hearing that allowed him to catch conversations and noises that weren’t meant for his ears. He would often hear gossiping agents as he walked down the hallways, or Vision and Wanda talk about recipes and TV shows in her room and there was this one time he heard Nat and Bruce have a discussion that was surely not meant to be heard by anyone but the two of them. He is still trying to get rid of the words he heard.

Having a room next to yours, he often sat on his bed, hearing you shuffling around, humming to yourself. As the latest addition to the Avengers, you felt a little out of place at the compound, like you were a stranger to the team even though they never gave you a reason to think so. This feeling of not belonging is what brought you closer to the century old super soldier on the other side of the wall, who despite being free from the claws of Hydra finally, still felt like an outsider in the superhero filled complex. Bucky always thought he was hard to make friends with, but he had to realize that it was all about who he was trying to make friends with. Because with you, it was an instant, like he had known you his whole life, you’ve definitely become one of the closest people to his heart in a very short time.

With this friendship came some undeniable feelings and tension from Bucky’s part. He couldn’t help but fall for you, how couldn’t he? He would have been surprised if it didn’t happen, after spending so much time with you. He found himself craving your presence, to be with you, talk to you and listen to you at the same time. He was a sucker for your lame jokes that he would laugh at even if they weren’t that funny. He loved your enthusiasm whenever you brought a new book and basically told him the whole plot, spoiling the story, but he never minded, because the way you rambled in excitement made up for everything.

And of course, he has been attracted to you since day one. Even when you weren’t that close, he couldn’t deny how much it affected him when he saw you spar with Steve at the gym in just some tight shorts and a sports bra, or when you linger around in the kitchen early in the morning wearing only an oversized shirt and your underwear hidden under the long fabric. It stirred his fantasies that’ve been sleeping for decades and late at night, when he was lying in his bed restless, his vibranium hand firmly curling around his erection, he thought about you. How you’d taste and feel, what it would be like to have your body pressed against his, his name falling from your lips in a whimper as he pleases you all over and over again. Sometimes he felt dirty after an elaborate fantasy, barely able to look into your eyes, but he just couldn’t help it. You had him in the palm of your hand.

What he doesn’t know is that he is not the only one with fantasies and desires. Because on the other side of the wall, you’ve often found yourself craving the mixture of warm and cold touch from flesh and metal hands, toned muscles flexing under your palms, pink lips whispering into your ears as you arch against his body… Bucky has been living in your mind rent free and you’ve been having a hard time containing your desire for the super soldier.

Having sex dreams is not at all a new thing for you. It happens every once in a while, waking from a heated scene only to find yourself alone in the comfort of your room, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as you try to bring yourself back to reality. It was never an inconvenience, but in the past few days it’s been getting worse. You’ve had a wet dream for three days in a row, jolting awake right when you were about to climax, a wave of disappointment washing over your body as you fisted the sheets in your sweaty palms. And the worst part? All of them have been about Bucky.

It’s another sleepless night for Bucky, nothing new. He has tried to chase himself into sleep with everything already, TV, ready, music, even counting sheep, but nothing seems to be working, so he is left with lying in his bed, staring at the blank ceiling, the soft bed sheet throw across his naked upper body, only wearing a pair of boxer briefs, because it’s been hot these past week, but he is not a fan of using the air-condition. The dogtags are lying messily on his naked chest, his vibranium finger playing with the wrinkles of the sheets mindlessly.

His eyes slowly flutter closed, a promise of some rest finally nearing the corner, but right just then, he hears some muffled noise coming from the other side of the wall. His eyes snap open as he sits up, trying to make out what it is, but he catches no words, just… grunts and some shallow panting, as if someone was struggling.

What if you’re sick and something is wrong? You’ve been a little worn off the past days, maybe something was lingering in you.

Kicking the sheets off of himself, he pads his way to the door, his bare feet tapping on the hardwood floor as he walks out of his room, heading to yours, stopping at the door. Pressing his flesh hand to the door he takes a moment to listen to the voices so he can make out what’s happening, but it really feels like you’re in a struggle, but he has no idea why. Knocking lightly on the door he hopes to get an answer, but nothing of sort comes and he stays still, debating whether he should go in or just leave. Right when he is about to retreat he hears you gasping, as if you’re at a short of breath and it pushes him to check in on you.

Opening the door he pops his head inside, the darkness fully taking up the room, your king sized bed in the middle, a few strikes of moonlight sneaking through the curtains that are not entirely drawn.

“Y/N?” he calls out softly, not wanting to startle you, but no answer comes once again, however he can see your figure tossing and turning under the sheets, another gasp slipping through your lips.

He walks closer, stopping at your bedside, seeing how your eyebrows are pulled together tensely, chest heaving as you keep moving around. Bucky feels like an intruder, you’re definitely asleep, probably having a nightmare, but he is not sure if he should be in here. Should he wake you? Or just leave? Would you be mad if you found him here upon waking up? After some hesitation he decides it’s better if he leaves, but right as he turns around, taking just one step towards the door, he finally hears a word from you.

“Bucky,” you whine, his name coming out a little slurred, but still clear to him. “Bucky, please!” you continue, his eyes widening as his head snaps around, eyes returning to you. You’re still asleep, but he notices your hand moving down your chest and then disappearing under the sheets, between your legs. That’s when he realizes that it’s not a nightmare. You’re having a sex dream about him.

Clearly trying to chase your release, your lips part as you moan, the voice instantly making Bucky’s cock twitch while hardening. His hands curl into fists as he is fighting himself whether he should do something or leave, but when his name slips through your lips again, he goes feral. He would be damned if he lets you get stuck in your dream when he can please you in real life.

He finds himself striding back to your bed faster like ever, like an elegant lion, hungry for his prey as one of his knees sink into the mattress between your open legs, keeping his weight up on one arm while the other finds your waist. The shirt you always sleep in has ridden up to just below your breasts, the exposed skin watering Bucky’s mouth as he squeezes your waist gently but firmly enough to wake you from your fever dream.

Your eyes snap open and you stare up at him slack-mouthed, your brain barely able to process the sudden change between the Bucky in your dream and the one holding himself up above you in real life.

“Bucky? I—“ you breathe out, the cloud of confusion on your head making it hard to even form a sentence. He leans down, his face just inches away from yours and even though it’s quite dark, his blue eyes are basically piercing. His dogtags fall to your chest, right above your wildly racing heart and you wonder if he can hear the pounding in your ribcage.

“Shh, I’m gonna take care of you,” he whispers and without a warning, his lips crash down onto yours.

It’s so hard and passionate, filled with hunger and longing, the air gets knocked right out of your chest as you eagerly kiss him back while he slowly moves himself until he is fully between your legs, his hips coming down to meet yours and you moan when you feel his erection pressing against your already soaking wet core. Your hands find their way up into his hair, grabbing a fistful of it and he can’t stop himself from growling at your action, grinding himself against your hips, both of you desperate to take it further.

Pushing himself up into a kneeling position, he grabs your panties and tugs them down your bare legs, throwing them across the room before he rids you from your shirt as well, so now you’re lying completely naked in front of his lustful eyes. He could devour you with just his icy blue eyes, he looks glorious, towering above you with his broad, muscular shoulders and toned chest, you’ve never been more desperate for a man before.

Your desire takes action, pushing yourself up your lips meet his chest, kissing the hot skin, your tongue sloppily pressing against him as you make your way up on his body. His vibranium fingers tangle into your hair as he holds the back of your head, pulling you up to kiss you again, both of you in a kneeling position while your hand reaches into his underwear, palming his hard cock, feeling up his size before you push the fabric down and he kicks it off easily, his erection now pressed between the two of you teasing and tempting you, making you buck your hips forward just for the slightest friction.

“Were you dreaming of me, doll? Huh?” he questions, his lips nibbling on your lower lip as he takes it between his teeth and gently tugs on it.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, hands grabbing onto his hips before they move down to his bare ass, pulling him closer to you, earning a moan from him.

“And what was I doing in your dream?” He kisses down your neck, stopping at a soft spot before he starts sucking and biting on it, marking you as his, something he’s been aching to do since the moment he laid eyes on you for the first time. Your brain almost shuts down, one of his hands is on your jaw, keeping your head in place, while the other one is gripping your waist harshly, his fingers digging into your muscles. You fail to answer his question as just a whimper leaves your lips at the sensation.

“Words, sweetheart. Use your words for me, will you?”

“I, uhh—You used your f-fingers,” you croak out, a satisfied grin tugging on Bucky’s lips at your words.

He pushes you back on the bed, making you lie on your back as he gets on top of you once again, but this time he doesn’t stay like that long, after a hard kiss he climbs down until his face aligns with your core, his hands parting your legs widely, baring you to him fully.

“Tell me, where did I use my fingers?” he hums, face so close to your center that you can feel his hot breath on you. He teases you, running his hands up and down your spread thighs, his fingers just grazing your folds before moving away every time.

“Bucky, please!” you cry out, grinding your hips up, but you only reach his chin before he leans back with a pleased grin on his face.

“Just tell me and I’ll do it. Where did I use my fingers?” he repeats.

“On my pussy! You fingered me!” you groan, your cheeks heating up from the blunt comment you just made, but it’s exactly what Bucky wanted to hear.

Two of his fingers find your clit easily, starting off with slowly drawing circles on it, stimulating your nerves and it’s nothing like in your dream. You curse under your breath when his fingers move to your hole and he pushes both of them inside, his lips taking their place on your clit.

“Oh fuck!” you groan in pleasure, your hands immediately snapping to his head, fingers lacing into his chocolate locks as you shamelessly grind against his face.

Bucky is not a man of many words, but god damn, he can use his mouth like a fucking master. It feels like your whole body is on fire, you’re sweating and shaking, his fingers curl inside you every time he thrusts into you and he is stroking that one heavenly spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back into your head. His tongue is slick and sloppy against your wet pussy, but he is drinking it all up as if you were his last meal before death.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum! Bucky!” you gasp as your back arches at the sensation, your orgasm building up rapidly.

“Cum on my tongue and fingers, let me make your dream come true,” he growls against your heat, picking up the pace of his fingers which completely throws you over the edge.

You come with chanting his name over and over again as you ride your high, thighs shaking and tightening on either side of his head until you’re finally able to catch your breath.

Bucky pushes himself up, his lips glistening from your juices and you watch him wipe his mouth with his fingers, licking them afterwards like he just finished eating a chocolate cake, a satisfied grin on his ridiculously handsome face. He crawls up on you until his lips can finally reach yours again, kissing you in a slower pace, but still with a lot of passion to offer.

“Tonight wasn’t my first sex dream about you,” you slyly admit, lips brushing against his as you speak.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm, so there’s more to act out.” His still hard cock twitches again and you’re fast to reach down and palm him again, wrapping a hand around him as you give his cock a few lazy stokes, but it surely has an effect on him.

You’re quick to turn him over, pushing him to lie on his back as you straddle him, steading yourself with holding onto his waist, his eyes bore into yours intently and your mouth hangs open when you grind against him, his hard cock sliding between your wet folds.

“The other day, I dreamed about riding you, your cock filled me up so good, but right when I was about to cum I woke up,” you tell him, not sure how this sudden confidence came from, but you just can’t help yourself. Bucky growls at your words as his fingers dig into your thighs.

“Then let’s make up for that, love,” he breathes out and you nod eagerly, lifting yourself up just enough to position him to your hole and then you sink down as far as you can, his dick filling you up inch by inch and your breath hitches when you finally settle, his length fully buried inside you.

“Oh, fuck!” you whine before you start moving yourself up and down his cock, grinding back and forth, the feeling of him inside you so intoxicating, you think for a moment that this might still be your dream. If it is, you hope you don’t wake up this time.

Though your training has strengthened your legs so you are able to ride him in this position longer, it still tires you out. Bucky notices when your movements slow down, his hands running up your torso, kneading your breasts before they end up on the back of your neck, pulling you down so you lie on top of him, his strong arms wrapping around you. His lips kiss the side of your head before he starts thrusting up into you, doing the work for you this time. You can’t stop yourself from moaning and whimpering as your second orgasm is starting to build up, your senses are on the edge.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so close,” he gasps, his thrusts becoming a little uncoordinated and you feel the same way, only moments away from your climax.

You push yourself up, pulling him with you, wanting to take back control before you both reach your relief, you get into a sitting position that allows you to grind in his lap, moving your hips back and forth as fast as you can. Bucky’s lips find yours again, kissing your sloppily before they travel down your neck and he licks at your collarbone as you hold onto his broad shoulders.

“You feel so fucking good, oh God!” he whines, his head falling backwards as you keep moving, both of you sweating, but neither of you really cares, you’re just relentlessly chasing your high again.

“I want to feel you cum. Please, Bucky!” you beg him, squeezing your walls around him, the action completely maddening the man as he holds you to his chest and flips you over with ease, his body weighing down on you as he starts fucking into you fast and hard. You could throw a fuss about how he took control again, but you don’t mind it, not at all. Because the way he pounds into you, his cock disappearing to the last inch inside you with each thrust, your whole body starts shaking as your orgasm finally reaches you.

Your squeeze your walls again around him and the moment he hears his name fall from your trembling lips he cums inside of you, filling you up entirely, marking you with his pleasure.

He rides his high with a few more sloppy thrusts until he stops, his forehead falling against yours as you both try to catch your breath. He captures your lips in a soft and slow kiss, so different from the ones you shared before. Then he finally rolls off of you and you let out a displeased grunt when you feel him slide out of you.

For a while it’s just the silence in the room mixed with your soft panting, but he is the first one to break it as his head rolls to the side, looking at you with those fucked-out eyes of his.

“How long have you been having these dreams?” he asks, turning to his side so his hand can spread out on your naked stomach, fingers drawing tiny circles on your sweaty skin.

“A while,” you admit.

“I wish I heard you earlier through the wall,” he chuckles, but your eyes widen.

“Wait, what? You heard me through the wall?”

“Yeah. Thought something was wrong so I came over to check on you.”

“God, I must have been really loud,” you laugh, covering your face with your hands, but he is quick to peel them off and leaning closer he kisses your lips gently.

“Don’t blame yourself, these walls are like paper. And besides…” A sly smirk tugs on his lips as his hand comes up to cup your jaw, his thumb running along the line of your bottom lip. “I fucking love it when you’re loud.”

“I wasn’t even screaming yet,” you tease back, your comment definitely catching him off-guard, but he likes it.

“We’ll get there next time.”

You and Bucky walk into the kitchen in the morning, completely oblivious to the rest of the world, still in the bliss of last night. Nat, Tony and Steve are sitting at the kitchen island, sipping on their morning coffee when you emerge from your room, all eyes immediately glued to the pair of you.

“Well, good morning, everyone,” you chuckle a little nervously, not sure what the stares mean.

“Morning,” Nat smirks, shaking her head before she turns back to the newspaper unfolded in front of her.

“Nice of you to make an appearance, I have some news to share with you all,” Tony announces as you pour some coffee for yourself while Bucky grabs everything he needs to make breakfast for the two of you. Nodding you signal to Tony that you’re listening. “I decided to do some remodeling on the compound.”

“Oh, what are you getting done?” you ask, wondering what could possibly need work on the building.

“Nothing major, I’m just gonna make the walls soundproof, so we don’t have to listen to you guys fucking all night long.”

You almost choke on your coffee at Tony’s blunt comment, cheeks heating up right away, you were not expecting that. Though he is looking at you and Bucky, who is now standing behind you with a hand on your waist, with a stern expression, you can see the small smile hiding in his eyes. He finds the situation rather amusing instead of annoying.

“Yeah, next time maybe keep it down a little,” Steve suggests as he stands from his seat, grabbing his mug. Walking past the two of you, he pats Bucky’s shoulder however. “But I’m glad you guys are finally getting it on,” he comments before walking out, Nat and Tony following him right after, leaving just you and Bucky in the kitchen.

You glance up at him with concern in your eyes, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, but he doesn’t seem to be ashamed at all. Instead, he leans down, pecks your lips shortly and then whispers:

“I told you. Paper-thin walls.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you

1K notes · View notes

troubatrain · 3 years

Text

want you to want me - m. tkachuk

a/n: i’m awful at intros but this fic is my whole ass child. i started it months ago and i picked it up back and then i just couldn’t stop writing. now we’re at a whopping 10k words and i’m really happy with the way this one came out. i hope you guys like it as much as i loved writing it.

big thanks to @hookingminor @igor-shestyorkin & @tkafuckit for reading this as i wrote it and gassing me up ily all sm

warnings: smut

You were Matthew’s dream girl, and you didn’t have a fucking clue. You were leaning against the cold metal bleachers of your former high school, chatting with whatever teacher probably wanted to hear all about that shiny NWSL contract you signed right out of college with the Chicago Red Stars. It was well deserved, a few national titles in college put you in the position in the first place, and Matthew respected the hell out of you. You wouldn’t know, by the way he never seems like he actually wants to speak to you and the few snide remarks about your sport in general. That started forever ago, when Matthew royally fucked up any chance he had with you later in life because he was a competitive asshole.

It started when you were twelve, and middle school was nothing short of a mess. Matthew was growing into his own, adding a near foot to his height over one summer while his father and coaches doted on the fact that he was getting bigger. Getting bigger meant getting better, and for a few years winning was the most important thing in the world. But, becoming a hormonal preteen came with something else, feelings about the girl who sat three rows behind him in almost all of his classes.

Then third period gym class came around, and Matthew was a competitive monster. The kind of kid who took that way too seriously, and you accidentally became public enemy number one. You were the only person in his class who could even come close to beating him at anything, because you were just as much of an athlete as he was. Soccer had become your craft, and much like Matthew, you declared you’d go pro one day. So, Matthew did what any other insecure twelve year old boy would, he teased you relentlessly. It was awful, but by the time Matthew had gone off to play for the National team you had forgotten about his bullshit.

Apparently, you’d done something in a past life to warrant dealing with Matthew for longer than you ever anticipated. Jamie was your little sister, and Taryn’s best friend. Best friend was probably understatement, the pair were inseparable on and off the field. They trained together, they played on the same teams and that meant way too much time with the rest of the Tkachuk’s. You learned quickly, that the rest of their family was wonderful and Matthew seemed to be too thick headed to fall in line.

You tolerated Matthew, brushing his silly remarks off just like you did when you were younger. The thing was, Matthew didn’t want you to just tolerate him, but he didn’t know how to get you to stop hating him. You make your way over to Matthew who’d been standing next to his brother since the start of your sister’s game.

“Hi Brady,” You greet, tapping Brady on the shoulder who pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That annoyed Matthew the most, the way you seemed to love his siblings and despise him. In your defense, nobody was more supportive of your professional career than Brady, who’d made a promise to catch a game the second he could, “Hi Matthew.”

You were waiting for something from Matthew, an acknowledgement for finally achieving a dream of yours. You’d gotten the congratulations from the rest of his family, a massive celebration because Keith thought you deserved it. Matthew probably didn’t think you did. You could practically hear his smug little voice about how much his recently inked contract was compared to yours, because you’d heard it since you were kids. He used to rip on your athletic abilities every chance he could, something about how it didn’t matter how hard you could kick a ball you couldn’t hold a hockey stick so he was just better.

“You’re here!” You hear the chipper voice of your little sister approach, Jamie’s sweaty postgame arms wrapped around your waist. You’d been in Chicago, signing some paperwork and looking into finding a place to stay when you had to go for camp. You promised you’d make it back in time, and your flight landed less than five hours ago but you made it.

Matthew bit the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself, watching his own sister push past him to see you. Taryn loved you, because sometimes she just needed a big sister and her brothers were in another country most

of the time. It was the part that killed him the most, seeing you with his family. You fit right in, a fierce athlete with drive that rivaled his own. Brady side-eyed his own brother, watching him instead of the scene unfolding in front of him. He was frustrated with his own brother for not just telling you the truth, that he teased you because he was an idiot who didn’t know how to handle having a crush on you.

But Brady was going to do it himself if his brother didn’t.

***

Matt, you don’t have a girlfriend right?

Matthew knew damn well he should not have answered his sister’s question, but when he realized her best friend had been sitting right next to her in the kitchen, his curiosity got the best of him. So he did, telling his sister he was single and sparing her details of any of the girls he’d gone on dates with the past year. That was his life is Calgary, a constant revolving door so no one would see what was underneath layers of sarcasm and angst. But every summer, he’d come home and wonder when he’d start to build a life for himself, and if he’d ever find that person to do it with. That was when his brain would start to wander, fantasies of a future that always seemed to involve you. He loved to imagine it, the years that you’d both spend supporting the other’s dream. Matthew would do anything to make sure you achieved yours, and he thought you’d do the same. Then you’d both settle down, the big house with the white picket fence and a shiny ring on your finger Matthew put there himself and years of arguing about what sport your future children would play - he’d even consider letting you have just one.

Unfortunately, none of that could be real until he figured out how to get you to hate him less. Taryn apparently had the same idea, and had been scheming with your sister for months. The two girls were looking at Matthew with devilish grins on their faces, like whatever they came up with would totally work.

“Y/N doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Your sister hums, sipping the smoothie they forced Matthew to drive them to go get, “It’s sad actually-”

“We think you should date,” Taryn explains, Matthew’s eyes went wide. His sister didn’t know the whole story, or just how far back this stupid fued went. Taryn always loved you, so Matthew just kept his remarks to himself.

“I know you know Y/N doesn’t like me very much,” Matthew explains, “So tell me how that’s going to work.”

“Apologize to her, if she can forgive me for anything she’ll forgive you,” Jamie sighs, thinking of all the times you’d shown her mercy when she didn’t deserve it.

“You’ve got to be sorry,” Brady interrupts, mouth full of food while he goes to go look for more in the fridge. He turns around, Matthew’s eyes giving him daggers, “What? You were a dick to her for years, you’ve got to fix that first.”

It didn’t take much convincing after that, Taryn had already planned out what Matthew should say to you. Matthew wasn’t going to repeat those words, because he knew exactly what he’d say to you if he ever got the chance. He was trying to fix his past, because the way he acted towards you was the one thing he regrets.

So with the help of your little sister and the Find my Friends app, Matthew was pulling up to a soccer field he’d been to plenty of times. He used to run through the park nearby, catching a glimpse of your practices when you were in high school and Matthew was an afterthought. He hops out of his car, smiling when he could see you running drills alone. You were dribbling the ball, counting to yourself while you were weaving through cones you set up.

“I’ve never been good at those,” Matthew calls out, walking over to you while you stopped and caught your breath, “I kick the cones with my skate every single time.”

“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” You tease, grabbing your water and guzzling it down, “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I came to apologize?” Matthew admits, knowing his face was probably bright red. He was nervous, the good kind like he got before a big game, “I was just an insecure kid then, and you didn’t deserve what I did just because I was afraid you’d beat in something.”

Matthew left out the part where he felt like he was still that kid all the time. All of those insecurities about himself seemed to be picked up by every reporter in Canada when he was there. You bit your lip, pretending like you were trying to debate whether or not you should forgive Matthew at all. In reality, you would have forgiven him ages ago if he’d just apologized sooner. It was so long ago, and sometimes you thought Matthew’s constant taunting made you better. He was pleading, baby blue eyes staring at you sadly while he waited for your answer. He looked like he didn’t think he deserved to be forgiven, shoulders slumped while he tried to read your body language. It was something you noticed about Matthew forever ago, he could have everything in the world but when he looked at you he seemed almost sad.

“I mean I could forgive you, but only if you beat me,” You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at Matthew, “If I win, I don’t have to and if you win all is forgiven.”

“Really? Isn’t that why we were in this situation to begin with?” Matthew points out, crossing his arms at you.

“I thought you weren’t that kid anymore,” You remind of his own words, testing him to see if he’d put his money where his mouth was. Matthew smirks, chuckling to himself, “C’mon Tkachuk let’s see what you got.”

Matthew shook his head, laughing and lining up next to you. You both counted to three, sprinting down the field at full force. Matthew knew his height was the only thing working to his advantage while he tried to keep up with you. You were nearing your finish line, and Matthew didn’t think he was going to win. You were going to forgive him regardless, but Matthew didn’t know that. His arms stretched out, grabbing your waist and pulling you into his chest. Matthew turned his body around, stepping over the line before you did.

“God, you’re such a fucking cheater Matthew,” You hit his chest, Matthew’s hands still firmly placed on your hips.

“I didn’t want to lose,” Matthew admits, all of his smug attitude diminishing immediately, “Just want you to forgive me.”

“I’ll forgive you if you never pull that shit on me again,” You poke his chest, slipping out of his grip and running to your stuff before he could notice how nervous he was making you.

No. Absolutely not. You told yourself while you checked your phone, rolling your eyes at the warning text from Jamie that Matthew was on his way, you couldn’t have anything but indifference to Matthew Tkachuk. It got harder everytime you saw him, the past few years had been nothing short of kind to him, he was growing from a dumb immature boy to a man more and more every summer. You turn around, peeking at Matthew who was sitting down and catching his breath, a winning smile on his face, the same kind he had the very first time he schooled everyone at floor hockey in middle school.

Maybe you could be friends.

***

Matthew liked having you as a friend, mostly because as of right now that was all he was going to get. You definitely didn’t trust him, which was valid considering Matthew had been a dick to you for years, but he was working on it. He had to, that uncontrollable feeling that he cared about you was getting harder to shove back down with every year that passed.

“You’re friends now, you don’t need to stare at her like a creep anymore,” Brady scoffs, watching his brother gawk at you from afar. Matthew couldn’t help it, you just had a glow about you, you always did, but somehow in the summer you were golden. Tonight you looked even better, maybe it’s because you smiled at him when he walked instead of scowling like you usually did.

“He’s in love with you,” Steph giggles, sipping her drink and giving Matthew a side eye, “He’s been staring at you all night.”

“He apologized to me,” You confess, holding in that little secret about Matthew’s visit to the field even from your best friend. You had the same friends, the same group of people who’d been pushing the two of you to work it out for years. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them to know that they no longer had to worry about one of you blowing up because the other was there, you just wanted everyone to let it go too. Matthew deserved a little forgiveness, you could only imagine the pressure he felt on himself back then, and while he didn’t totally deserve your protection - you were going to give it to him, “Don’t-”

“Oh wonder why, I know it’s because he looooves you,” Steph teases, “Did you forgive him?”

“Yeah I mean we’re both older and I’d like to think he’s wiser, and besides our parents are way too close,” You knew this was going to be your excuse for a while. It was better for everyone that you forgave him, Jamie and Taryn spent more time together than you’d spend with anyone and you're just as close with the rest of their family. It wasn’t untrue that it was in fact for the best, but that didn’t mean Matthew’s stupid dimples didn’t persuade you before you could think about anyone else, “Can we stop talking about this?”

Matthew’s eyes didn’t leave you once that night, especially after the way Steph downed tequila shots and convinced you to join her. You deserved to celebrate, you’d accomplished something Matthew knew was your biggest dream because it was the same as his. He was proud of you, not that he’d gotten a chance to show it.

“If you’re going to go pro Y/N, you’ve got to start keeping up,” Brady chirps, watching you stumble over your own feet to walk over to him and Matthew. Matthew had seen this once before, a level of drunkenness where you turned into bambi but that was so long ago he never thought he’d see it again.

“I’ll go pro in beating your ass Brady,” You snap back, shooting daggers over Brady who was already cracking up, “Hi Matthew.”

“Hi,” Matthew’s voice was small, a weird sound considering he was usually the loudest in the room. Brady scoffs, walking away from the two of you before he snaps at how hopelessly in love his brother was. You turn your head in confusion, your mind far too hazy to realize why Brady was so annoyed in the first place, causing Matthew to chuckle, “Want to play? Might be best if we’re on the same team.”

Matthew’s thumb shot over to the beer pong set up on the other side of the room, a mischievous smirk on face, “I mean if it’s for the best.”

Matthew’s arm wrapped around your shoulders holding you close to his chest while you both played pong was definitely not for the best, and it wasn’t helping that stupid crush you had on him. You could feel Steph’s stare from the corner of the room, and you look at her to mouth a don’t at her. It was nice having Matthew on your team, finally a moment where instead of arguing with each other about who’s elbow was clearly over the table - you got to do the same thing to Brady.

“Brady you’re cheating,” You call out, Matthew’s head thrown back in laughter at your seriousness.

“You heard her Brady, elbows over the table,” Matthew breathes out, his body still rumbling with laughter at his little brother’s expense.

“Oh look at you two, you’re just gonna raise some winners one day aren’t you?” Brady chirps back, both happy to see you getting along and annoyed once he realizes that means he was going to get roasted by both of you now. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, tucking your face into Matthew’s arm in hopes no one saw the way you shrunk at that stupid joke.

“We’re winners right now,” Matthew calls out, his last ball landing in the cup and sealing the game for the two of you. Matthew would raise winners with you, it was something he thought about from time to time, but those thoughts were never going to see the light of day, “Alright drunky I think it’s time to get you home.”

“You can stay, I’ll just catch a ride with someone,” You waive Matthew off, who shook his head no at you before you even started speaking.

“One, my dad would kick my ass if he knew I left you,” Matthew starts with, holding up one finger with another on the way, “Two, we’re friends now and I’d like to make sure you don’t die before you see a pro game.”

Matthew had seen you this drunk before, but what he didn’t know was that getting you home would be more difficult than he thought. You started in the direction of your house, but apparently you were a runner and a speedy one at that. Now you were barely two blocks away from Matthew’s parents place and if he could at least get you there he’d be able to call it a night - which wasn’t fucking easy.

“Alright I’ve had enough,” Matthew huffs, jogging to catch up with you and scooping you into his arms. You were hanging over his shoulder, Matthew making his way down the street with the house in his sightline. You could have cared less, laughing your ass off while Matthew walked up the stairs and finally placed you back down on your feet, “Be quiet, go up to my room and get some clothes and go sleep in the guest room.”

You weren’t quiet, not at all and Matthew was amazed not one of his parents came down to see what all the chaos was about. After Matthew had to walk you up the stairs, running back down for some water and hoping you weren’t a disaster by the time he got back - he found you in his bed. You were curled up right in the middle, an old London Knights shirt on your body, Matthew’s favorite. Matthew grabs his comforter, throwing it over your body. He sighs, leaning against his door frame and smiling to himself at how comfortable you looked, flicking off the light and retreating to the guest room.

Matthew hated the guest room. He hated how hard the mattress was and after a few hours of no sleep and tossing and turning - he gave up. Matthew hoped no one else was up, but not to his surprise his mother was already in the kitchen, and judging by the look on her face, she knew who was upstairs.

“Care to explain?” Chantal smirks, raising her eyebrows at her son. Matthew’s face got red, his landing on the back of his neck to cover the blush.

“She fell asleep before I could even get her to the guest room,” Matthew shrugs, hoping his mom wouldn’t push it any further, “I, uh, apologized the other day.”

“Good,” Chantal hums, a knowing look on her face. She didn’t like to push Matthew, her one kid who seemed to be a little rougher around the edges than the others, but that silly feud never sat right with her, “Here, bring her a coffee, I’m sure she needs it.”

Matthew nods, grabbing the mug his mother was holding out and starting to make his way up the stairs. He heard the tell her you made it from his mother and shook his head. He knew what she was thinking, especially with the way Chantal seemed to talk about you. His mother thought you were nothing short of perfect, and Matthew would be a liar if he didn’t think the same thing.

“Did I fall asleep here?” You’d woken up confused, your question only answered by the jerseys hanging on the walls, you were in Matthew’s room. You rub your eyes, the door creaking open way too loudly for how dead you felt.

“Only after you almost fell down the stairs and ran three blocks in the wrong direction,” Matthew chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing you the mug, “You know you’re fast right?”

“Yeah,” You muse, smirking to yourself and taking a sip of coffee, “I’m sorry I did that to you, and stole your bed - I can go.”

Matthew stopped you, telling to finish your coffee and relax and he’d drive you home after. You fell into a comfortable conversation, something Matthew never thought would happen.

And watching you walk up to your steps in his shirt still wasn’t something he thought he’d see, but it was better than he imagined.

***

“Hey it’s Jamie, can’t get to the phone right now…”

You groan, tossing your phone onto your bed and continuing your pace around the room. It was well after midnight, and your sister had been out all night, and past her curfew. Usually you’d cover for her, definitely taking the prize home for the cool older sister who picks her siblings and their friends up from parties. That’s what had you so worried. Sure, Jamie was a teenager and she snuck in a few little white lies with your parents just like you’d done, but Jamie always told you the truth. She’d check in with you more than her parents, letting you know that she’s going to be out late but she’s safe and if she needed anything she knew who to call. You texted sometime around ten, just checking in since it was Saturday and you were sure she had a more riveting social life than yourself. No answer. Then eleven rolled around and you didn’t hear anything, so naturally you double texted and now it’s twelve thirty and you still haven’t heard anything. You cross your arms, looking at your phone as if you could will an answer into existence. You grab it, dialing a number you weren’t even sure would work.

“Hello?” Matthew’s voice appeared on the other side of the line, clear confusion in his voice. You let out a sigh of relief, hoping Matthew would have the answer you wanted to hear so desperately.

“Is my sister at your house?” You ask, biting your lip and throwing on a pair of sweats so you could pick her up and murder her for scaring you like that. You were sure it was innocent, Jamie slept over at Taryn’s all the time, staying up way too late watching movies or when Jamie would hide going to a party from your much stricter parents.

Matthew tells you to give him a minute, and you can hear him walking through the house. By the time you heard a door open and a small fuck under his breath, your stomach dropped, “She was supposed to be home by midnight.”

“Alright, thanks anyways,” You sigh, “Do you know where they might have gone? It’s just, Jamie hasn’t answered me in hours and she usually does even if she’s out past curfew and I’m just-”

“I’ll be at your house in ten,” Matthew says, his keys alright in his hand and his foot halfway out the door. He was more mad than worried, sure his sister was out a party past curfew. Matthew was her biggest brother, and he was far more protective over her than Brady ever could be. He hated when she did this, and Matthew was pissed. You waited on your steps, Matthew car coming into view while you sprung up and practically sprinted into his car.

“You look mad,” You observe, as if it wasn’t completely obvious. You knew why, trying countless times to remind Taryn that her brother loves her and that’s why he’s like that. You thought he could go a little easier on her, but you wouldn’t dare get in the middle of that.

“I am mad,” Matthew grits out, knuckles white on his steering wheel while he drives slowly down the street. You just drove, in hopes you’d find what was obviously a house party and hopes your sisters were inside. You squint, hoping your eyes weren’t fooling you.

“Wait, pull over I think I see my neighbor,” You yell, Matthew’s foot flying on the break and you hop out. You were right, the bright orange tuft of hair you saw was like a miracle, “Hey Henry have you seen my sister?”

“Oh yeah I think she’s still inside,” Henry points to the house behind him, music blasting and a party in full swing, “I think she’s with Taryn.”

Matthew hops out of the car, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the house with him. Matthew’s fingers were laced with yours with every step he took, weaving through the crowd in hopes you’d see them. It took three bedrooms and a laundry room until you finally saw Taryn standing in the doorway. Her eyes went wide, and you pushed past them both to see Jamie with her head in the toilet. She was fine, well she was definitely in deep shit, but it wasn’t the worst thing to stumble upon. You throw her hair up, your attention moving to Matthew yelling at his sister in the hallway.

“Why didn’t you call someone,” Matthew yells, trying so damn hard to not completely snap on his baby sister. Taryn yells that her phone had died and then Jamie got sick and she didn’t know what to do. Of course they didn’t. You were probably more sympathetic, and you knew just how pissed off Matthew could get. You get up, pushing Taryn back into the bathroom and telling her to watch your sister.

“Calm down before you talk to her, please,” You plead, grabbing Matthew’s shoulders, “Besides, I sort of need some help right now.”

There it was. The very moment Matthew realized all along you could’ve been helping him. Your hands were wrapped around his biceps, a finger gently rubbing the skin right under the sleeve of his shirt. Every bit of anger disappeared from his body, a calm feeling replacing it. He knew you were right, and he’d be thankful for it later. Matthew knew he had to do the right thing by you, and he nodded, willing to follow any directions you gave him.

Matthew carried Jamie out of the house, getting both of your sisters in the car and finally heading back to your house. You knew he was still pissed off, a present frown on his face so you just took the chance. Just like he’d done before for you, you grabbed one of his hands from his steering wheel, lacing your fingers together. You caught the smile on his face, your thumb rubbing over his hand while his shoulders seemed to just relax. Once

Matthew finally helped you get Jamie inside, a night of laying on her floor to make sure she was okay ahead of you stood in the doorway with Matthew across from you.

“Thank you, I know we’re working on this friendship thing but you really didn’t have to do that,” You were eternally grateful, wrapping your arms around Matthew’s waist and tucking your head into his chest.

“You’d do the same thing for Taryn,” Matthew hums, knowing full well he definitely owed you for being Taryn’s replacement sibling with him and Brady in Canada for most of the year, “Get some rest okay?”

“Wait,” You stop Matthew, grabbing his hand one more time, “Don’t kill your sister, please she’s just a kid-”

“You’re way too easy on them,” Matthew chuckles, shaking his head at you. He knew Taryn was probably scared, and after he calmed a bit he understood where you were coming from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tell her that if she ever pulls that shit again - he was going to rat her out to their parents.

And when Matthew finally got back in the car, he could see his sister’s grin in the backseat, “Don’t say it.”

She held your hand, are you sure you’re not going to malfunction now?

***

Maybe you were spiraling.

You’d been waiting for this moment your entire life, now you had a few more weeks until camp started and you were afraid. You knew you were good enough, you had to be. But what if you weren’t? You could feel the anxiety settling in, a feeling you hadn’t felt since Matthew told you soccer wasn’t a real sport in fourth grace. It’d been eating at you for weeks, deteriorating any confidence you had left in yourself. So you started pushing yourself even harder. The harder you worked the less like you were to fuck it all up. Your muscles were sore, your body was tired and it was just all becoming too much.

And Matthew noticed.

You were pushing yourself too hard, even the time you were supposed to relax with your families before your seasons started was being spent training. He understood it, the term first round exit lived rent free in his head every single time his skate hit the ice over the summer, but that didn’t make it okay. You looked tired, sluggish while you moved because you were running twice a day and training in between. And he was pissed everyone seemed to be fine with it. You should start working harder then Matthew. If it bothers you so much maybe you could join her. It wasn’t that he was jealous of your work ethic, he was worried. Matthew’s eyes followed you as you ran past his house again. The third time in one day, he’d finally decided he had enough.

Matthew took the walk to your house, charming the pants off your mother for her to tell him you were upstairs because you just got back in. He knocks twice, hearing a come in from the other side.

“What are you doing here?” You question, rolling one of your ankles that just seemed to be getting more swollen every time you started to practice. Matthew noticed it, your hands freezing one you caught his gaze.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Matthew stands his ground, he knew you could have told him to fuck off because no one hates advice they didn’t ask for quite like him, “Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s rich coming from the kid who’s played with more broken bones than anyone I know,” You remind him of a few mistakes Matthew’s made playing through injuries he really shouldn’t, “I’m not fucking frail.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Matthew scoffs, it never once crossed his mind that he thought he was tough enough to play through injuries but you weren’t, “It’s about taking a break so you don’t get hurt.”

“I’m fine,” You huff, getting up and trying your best to hide the pain in your ankle when you stood on it. You fell forward, Matthew catching you in his arms and putting you back down the edge of your bed.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” Matthew asks with soft eyes, he bent down to take your ankle in his hand and inspect it the best he could. It was swelling, probably from the amount of pressure you’d been putting on your body with no breaks.

“What if I never score a goal?” You whisper, teary eyes finally meeting Matthew’s. His brows shot up, alarmed at how one of the best athletes he’s ever seen could feel the same way he felt right before his first NHL game. Matthew sits down next to you, hand on your thigh while you let out a cry, “What if I’m just a bust? Like I get there and nothing works and I suck.”

“You’ll score eventually,” Matthew scoffs, understanding how ridiculous you sounded but just how you felt at the same time, “Everyone does.”

“You scored like four games into your fucking career Matt,” You remind him, Matthew smiling a bit that you knew that to begin with. It would have been impossible not to know, or pretend like you didn’t keep a few tabs on his career. Matthew Tkachuk was a legend in the making, and whether or not you could feel butterflies in your stomach every time he dropped the gloves was a secret you’d take to the grave.

“I got suspended my first season too,” Matthew jokes, a teary eyed laugh escaping your lips, “I’d put down money you score in your first game.”

“Well good thing you have money to lose,” You sigh dramatically, the fear of fucking up still on your mind.

“You’ll find your groove, all legends do,” Matthew promises, throwing his arm around your shoulders. You snuggled into his side, a realization that he was becoming a comforting presence in your life with each passing day, “And if you don’t, you can always hide out in Canada with me.”

“Matty!” The same silly nickname Matthew introduced himself to you on your very first day of kindergarten slipped through your lips without realizing it. Matthew hadn’t been called that in ages, but it was welcome from you. You push his chest, “That’s not making me feel any better.”

“What if I told you the only reason I was so mean to you was because I was intimidated by how talented you were?” Matthew confesses, scratching your head with his fingers, “If I win a cup one day I think I owe you one.”

Matthew didn’t mention that in his wildest fantasies of raising that cup over his head, you were there. He’d owe you one and he hoped it was because you were there for him until he got there. Matthew saw it the same way every time, you’d tell him to go see his parents first but he’d fly right past them to get to you - the person who accidentally pushed him to be his best. He had plenty of daydreams about you winning too, remembering times you used to brag you’d go to the Olympics one day, and he hoped you were right. He wanted to see you succeed, more than anything, and he thought it would work.

“Legally you have to let me drink out of it,” You muse, shutting your eyes and letting yourself just rest against Matthew.

“It has to be Bud Light,” Matthew teases while watching you fake a gag. You grab his outstretched hand, letting him pull you up. His hands rested on the side of your face, eyes flickering to your lips for just a second. He wanted to kiss you, but he knew he had to wait. Wait for you to be ready. Wait for you to settle down. Or even just wait until he thought he had a real shot at forever.

Forever with you.

***

Matthew was kind of pissed off.

The press didn’t bother him, none of that mattered and at the end of the day Matthew was able to sleep at night knowing he was a good teammate and a decent person most of the time. This one got him though, some writer criticizing the A on his jersey, and how someone who plays like he does didn’t deserve a letter.

A letter he earned.

You could tell something was off, the way Matthew had been running alongside you was aggressive to say the least. He insisted he came with you, something about forcing you to take breaks. He was being your friend, even though your sisters seemed to disagree. Taryn’s words were replaying in your head, Matt doesn’t even care if I get hurt. That didn’t mean anything, those two had no idea what love was and Matthew caring about you a little bit didn’t mean he loved you. Besides, the way he was acting right now told a completely different story.

“Are you mad at me?” You finally slow down, sitting on a rock that was next to the hiking trail you were on.

“No?” Matthew stops dead in his tracks, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach that he fucked this up too, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“No, tell me what’s wrong,” You push, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at Matthew. You could tell he was pressed about something, his neck covered in a red flush the same way it used to.

“Some stupid article about my letter, don’t worry about it,” Matthew grits, repeating his words again. His defense was up, even after you confessed to him that you were scared of not being enough.

“Get the fuck out of here with the tough guy act Matthew,” You challenge him, poking him right in the chest, “If we’re going to be friends you need to cut that shit out.”

“You really want to hear it?” Matthew barks back, fully yelling at you, “I’m tired of people thinking I don’t deserve things because I threw a few bad hits. Do you know how it feels to have everyone think you’re shitty? No you don’t, because you’re so fucking perfect that my own parents like you more than me.”

You stood there, silent while you tried to figure out how to tell him that simply wasn’t true. His entire body was shaking, the anger coursing through his veins like you’d seen many times before that. Matthew looked like he did the first time you hit a homerun in gym class, except this time it was because that same pressure never got released. You couldn’t come close to understanding the way he probably felt. You didn’t have the comparables in your own family, the constant reminders of Brady’s points tally compared to his, let alone the career his father had.

“Matty,” You whisper, grabbing his hand and running your fingers over the scars on his knuckles, “Why is this bothering you so much?”

You were sure this wasn’t the first time someone’s said he was a pest, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. Matthew sighed, the better part of his brain screaming at him to stop before he lost you too.

“I’ve felt like this forever,” Matthew whispers, eyes fixated on your hand in his, “From the moment I started getting bigger, there’s just been this pressure to play a certain way and act a certain way. I was a fucking kid, and while all of my friends got to go wherever they wanted all I ever did was practice. Then I finally get to where I wanted and I’m still getting shit on.”

“Except no one thinks you don’t deserve to be where you are,” You whisper, quiet words as if you were going to startle him, “And I know it doesn’t make up for things people say, but the people who love you think you deserve it.”

Matthew nods, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his waist, his words mumbled against your forehead, “I needed that.”

“I know,” You nod, smiling wide up at him, “And we need to practice more because you’re too slow, soooo catch me if you can!”

You slipped out of his arms, running away with a giggle and a smile. Matthew stopped for a second, his Neanderthal brain checking out your ass while you jogged away and his more logical one trying to process what just happened.

But what mattered most was that whatever you did worked and that meant something to Matthew.

***

Just admit you think he’s hot.

You wanted to kill your sister for making this weekend harder than it had to be. You were doing a good job at just friends with Matthew until Jamie was curled up in your bed while you packed for a lake trip with your friends. She pushed it for hours, rambling on about Matthew is actually your type and Taryn swears he’d be a good boyfriend if someone just understood him. The problem was, you were starting to see her point. Matthew had a glow up a few years ago, like one summer he’d gotten home and you were infatuated with him. It used to annoy you, because he’d been such an ass to you that you hated how attractive he was. Then things changed, and now looking at him was just frustrating you. You were terrified about the way he made you feel, like everything would be okay with one look of those blue eyes and a smirk. You felt like he had your back, a vast change from how you used to feel and it was just getting hard to hide it anymore.

Especially when Matthew looked like he did right now. He was holding himself up on the dock, shoulders broad and glistening in the moonlight above you. All your friends were inside, moving their party away from the water as the night lingered on. You wanted to run your fingers through his wet curls, the temptation was almost too much.

“I’ll be in Chicago a few times you know,” Matthew hums, enjoying the time alone he was getting with you. Anytime without Brady teasing him about what the Tkachuk’s had been referring to as the hand holding incident. He didn’t want them to think he didn’t want you, because he did, but he just needed to move at his own pace.

“You want to come see me play?” You ask, leaning back on the palms of your hands. You were surprised by the kind of man Matthew had become, it was a completely different person that he used to be. He cared so much about his loved ones, and you were starting to feel like maybe you had a place there.

“Actually thinking you could come see me play,” Matthew teases, sarcasm dripping from his words. You lifted your foot up, kicking some of the water below you to splash him, but he’d caught your ankle before you could. He stopped for a moment, running a thumb over your skin, “This looks better.”

“Don’t make you admit you were right,” You whine, Matthew swiftly pulling you into the water with him. You yelp, the water way too cold for any normal person, “It’s freezing.”

“C’mere then,” Matthew grabs your waist, pulling your body against his. His hands were splayed across your back, heat radiating off of them. One of your hands was on his shoulder, your other on his chest. You could feel his heart beating quickly, his eyes locked on yours, “Middle school Matthew would be so jealous of me right now.”

“Why’s that?” You hum, running your fingers along Matthew to play connect the dots with the beauty marks on his skin.

“Because he had the biggest crush on you,” Matthew confesses, his grip on you a little tighter, as if he was afraid you’d slip right through his fingers again, “But he was too thick headed to do anything about it.”

“What about grown up Matthew?” You ask, biting your lip. Matthew was practically holding you both up in the water, pressed so close together you could hear the hitch in his breath at your question, “Is he too thick headed to do something too?”

You wrapped your legs around Matthew’s waist, pressing your lips to his and tugging on the curls at the base of his neck. He pushed you up against the dock, helping you back up and pulling himself up next to you. You grabbed the back of his neck, latching your lips back on his. His hand was on your back, fingers toying with the back of your bathing suit, “Think we can get upstairs without anyone noticing?”

Matthew was cool most of the time. He never faltered under the pressure from his career, most of the time, and he definitely didn’t fold when it came to a pretty girl. You had him in the palm of your hand, every part of his brain malfunctioning in response to your words. You bit your lip, wondering if you’d read this entire situation. Matthew rubs a thumb along your lip, “When are you going to realize I’d do whatever you asked me to?”

The two of you snuck up the stairs, giggles and stolen kisses left in your wake. You open the door, Matthew’s hands still toying your bathing suit top, “Just take it off already Matty.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Matthew breathes, his lips pressed against your neck while the garment falls to the floor, “So fucking beautiful.”

You back hit the mattress, Matthew’s hands running up your body slowly. Slow wasn’t in Matthew’s vocabulary, but he was taking his time just in case he never got this opportunity again. His fingers hooked under your bathing suit bottoms, sliding the wet fabric down your legs. You looked so beautiful, spread out just for Matthew like he’d dreamed about numerous times. His lips moved down to your breasts, teeth grazing against your skin while his tongue swirled against your nipple. You let out a breathy moan, Matthew’s ego boosting from the sound. You plucked at his curls while his mouth moved down to where you were craving him most, a gentle kiss to your clit, “Matty, please.”

“I didn’t peg you for the type to beg,” Matthew hums, pressing feather light kisses around your core. He stopped, gripping your thighs and looking up at you, “You sure about this?”

“Yes, please,” You whine, pussy dripping from Matthew’s hot breath fanning over it. Matthew chuckles darkly, fingers digging into your thighs when he flicked his tongue over your clit. You moan, completely unbothered by the blaring music a floor below you. Matthew didn’t seem to be bothered either, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit, living for the way you were whimpering above him, “Matty-”

“Close baby?” Matthew groans, slipping a finger inside of you and curling it. You back arched, his name falling through your lips was enough to answer his question. Your legs shook, pleasure washing over your body from Matthew and all of it just felt so right. Matthew’s lips were latched to your skin until he finally met your eyes again. He smiles softly, nudging his nose with yours while you caught your breath, “So good for me.”

“Should’ve known you were that good with your mouth with the way you run it,” You tease smiling against his lips.

“Not with you, not anymore,” Matthew promises, soft blue eyes looking into yours, he meant it. He didn’t know how else to make it clearer, he wanted you. You kissed him slowly, hands trailing down his abs and stopping where his shorts hit his waist. Matthew kicks off his swim trunks, cock springing free. You grab the back of his neck, pulling your lips to his and rolling over top of him and straddling his waist. It was criminal how good you looked on top of him, “Gonna ride me babe?”

You nod, lining his dick up your core and lowering yourself on top of him. You let out a whine, Matthew’s smug smile on full display once he realized it was because of how big he was, “We don’t have to if my dick’s too big.”

“Oh shut up,” You roll your hips, watching the way Matthew’s head fell back, smirking because he really thought he had control here. Matthew’s hands gripped your waist, moving your hips faster. His finger flicked over your clit, causing you to lunge forward on top of him. Matthew flipped you over, wrapping a leg around his waist so he could hit your g-spot. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails leaving scratches Matthew was going to wear pride later. You were seeing stars, noises leaving your throat you’d never even heard yourself make, “Fuck, Matty, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Look at me,” Matthew grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours and watching while your eyes roll back with pleasure. Your pussy clenched around him, his own cum spilling into you from the sensation, a loud groan following. Matthew pressed a kiss to your forehead, his cock still buried inside of you, “I wasn’t bullshitting you, I mean every word Y/N.”

“Matthew,” You whisper, running a finger along his back, “The distance…”

You didn’t mention everything, the way that if this was real it meant it would end up ripping you both apart. You were set to live in a different city, Matthew all the way in another country. The way your dreams included a spot on the U.S. National team, and the idea that wanting to be with Matthew would hold you back was terrifying. The way his dreams probably meant staying in Calgary forever, a C on his jersey and a cup over his head. It wasn’t going to be easy, you weren’t ever going to be the doting girlfriend he probably needed. There would be years of travel schedules and games that overlapped, and a part of you thought that maybe Matthew wouldn’t be able to do it. You’d get a year in and he’d find someone who would be there more and finally you’d end it.

“We can make it work, baby I want you, I always have and I probably always will,” Matthew starts, baring his soul to another person for the first time in his goddamn life, “I want to support your dreams and have you be there for mine. I’m all in here, I don’t know how else to tell you.”

“Can I have some time?” You plead, holding onto Matthew’s shoulders because you knew he could leave and tell you to never speak to him again. Matthew sighs, understanding the way you were shitting yourself about starting your own professional career, remembering the way rookie Matthew would have died before he considered settling down that first year, “Please don’t leave me-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Matthew promises, rolling over and letting your rest on his chest, “I’ll wait for you.”

You smile, snuggling closer to him. Matthew didn’t sleep a minute that night, running every single scenario that could possibly happen with the two of you. Matthew was sure it would work out, it had to, because if it didn’t he wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover.

So now all he could was wait.

***

You know this is creepy right?

Matthew stares at Sam, punching his teammate in the arm lightly and telling him to shut up. He had a night off in Chicago, and after four straight hours of staring at your contact in his phone, Matthew finally just bought the tickets. He’d been good at keeping his distance, you needed space and he respected you enough to try and give it to you. He wasn’t doing so hot, Matthew consuming more soccer games than hockey games at this point. It started with your first game, because how was he supposed to just pretend like it wasn’t happening? You scored too, and it took everything in his power not to call you to tell you that not only was he right, he was insanely proud of you.

And he’d been hearing it from everyone. Your sister thought it was bullshit, Taryn and Jamie almost had Matthew on a flight to Chicago ready to show up like a terrible Lifetime movie. Brady thought it was hilarious the way Matthew was simping like this for one girl. Now, his teammates were on him, wondering why on Earth their friend who historically ran through women faster than he did mouthguards could be this hung up on someone he had a crush on in middle school.

“What number is she?” Sam asks, sipping the beer he forced Matthew to buy after making him go along with this.

“Nineteen,” Matthew smiles, pointing down at you on the field. You looked so happy, warming up with one of your teammates and a bright smile on your face. It seemed like a good fit, your team and your new city, and it made Matthew’s heart grow four sizes.

“Did she choose your number?” Sam jokes and Matthew mumbles something under his breath, “What?”

“It was her number first,” Matthew admits, not wanting to ever confess to another soul that you crossed his mind when he kept that camp number. Sam howled next to him, leaning over his seat and cracking up at his teammate.

You looked out in the crowd about halfway through the game, rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things. That tuft of curls was hard to miss, not to mention you knew just how big Matthew was. He was far too into the game to realize you caught him, up in arms about a call against your team that was valid but he’d argue it wasn’t. You asked for space, and it was getting harder to stick to your guns. Especially when he was making it so clear that he wanted this.

And whether or not you went to his game the next night, was a secret you’d take to the grave.

***

You were so close you could have tasted it.

While the final seconds of your season came to a close, all you could do was hold your head in your hands and hope no one caught the tears. A semi-final loss was devastating, but a semi-final loss where there wasn’t anything you could have done differently was even worse. Every athlete had off nights, a point Keith pushed right before you left to start your season, and he was right. Unfortunately, that was this game. Your biggest fear had come true and there was nothing you could do about it now. The game was over and you weren’t moving on.

And Matthew watched it.

Matthew promised you space, and he swore he’d give you the time you needed to settle down. But, this was something he couldn’t ignore. He could tell you were off, your entire rookie season was almost perfect and watching the way you folded during this game was gut wrenching. Matthew knew better than anyone, losing sucked. So he took the chance, grabbing his phone and shooting you a text he’d been waiting to send.

Doors open in Calgary.

and I’m so fucking proud of you.

It was the very last text you saw before you went to bed that night, tossing and turning for a few hours thinking about that loss. You couldn’t stop, every bone in your body was aching and you didn’t know what to do. So you bought a flight, packed your shit and was walking down the hallway to Matthew’s apartment without a second thought. You’d left him on read, calling Brady in the middle of the night and asking for his address, who gave it to you reluctantly with a reminder that if you needed to see him this badly you should rethink the needing time thing.

Matthew let out a groan when he had a bang at his door at three in the morning. Noah definitely was trying to walk into the wrong apartment again, and Matthew was grouchy when he whipped his door open. Except it wasn’t Noah after he’d had too many. It was you, teary eyed with your shit in a suitcase and a broken heart.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” You admit, whispering something you never thought you’d say to anyone, “I just didn’t do enough-”

Matthew didn’t say a word, pulling you into a bone crushing hug and holding you as tightly as he could. You didn’t need to hear it from him, about how things were out of your control and you did your best. You didn’t want that right now, you wanted him, “Baby…”

“Everything hurts,” You whimper, finally just letting it all out. You were bruised and battered from the season, the physical pain alone was enough to upset you, let alone the loss you just took. Matthew carded his fingers through your hair, letting you soak his bare chest with your tears because he wouldn’t have it any other way. You came back to him. You came back to him when things got too tough because you trusted him to bring you some peace, and he was happy about it.

You passed out sometime after that, your tears finally running dry and the exchaustion taking over your body. Matthew woke up early the next day, grateful for the optional morning skate so he could stay with you for just a little bit longer. The sun was just starting to peek through the curtains in his room, a calm snowy morning in Calgary so the city was just a bit quieter.

Matthew settled on breakfast, working away in his kitchen with the only thing he knew how to make. Tell her you made it, his mom’s words from just a few months prior in his head while he cooked. You padded out his bedroom, one of Matthew’s god awful beer shirts hanging from your frame while you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed a kiss into his back, “It’s cold here.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Matthew hums, internally pumping his fist when he felt your lips form a smile against his skin. You turned your head, pressing your cheek against his against and letting out a laugh, “What’s so funny?”

“You framed my jersey?” You ask, your eye catching a jersey that was way too familiar. It was hung up beside Matthew’s from his first all star game, both number nineteens staring back at you.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my favorite player,” Matthew hums, a blush covering his cheeks, “I’m so proud of you.”

“You keep saying that,” Matthew finally turns around, pressing a quick peck to your lips.

“I’ll keep saying it long after we both retire,” Matthew speaks, words clear and sure because he’s had plenty of time to practice this one, “I’ll say it when you win a World Cup gold, I’ll say it when we have kids, I’ll say when you play at the Olympics. I’m going to say it over and over again.”

“But…” You trail off, all of those same demons you’d been fighting when it came to your whatever this was with Matthew, “What I’m not around enough for you?”

Matthew knew what you were thinking about, he’d thought about it plenty too. There were countless sleepless nights where all he did was wonder if you’d find someone in Chicago who could support you better than he could. He’d do his best, he swore he would, but in order for you to be happy, your passion came first. There was always going to be times when he couldn’t be there and it killed him.

“You’re more than enough,” Matthew promises, his lips ghosting over yours, “I want you to seize every opportunity in the world, I just want to be there to tell you that I love you and use the goat emoji on Instagram when you do.”

You let out a laugh, Matthew’s smile wide enough to see his dimples you loved so much, “I think I want to stay a little while.”

“I think you should,” Matthew agrees, capturing your lips in his, “Besides I’m playing tonight and I think I need to show off now.”

“You’re a cocky asshole.”

“But now I’m your cocky asshole.”

***

One year Later

You had a good reason to be late.

You swore Matthew couldn’t possibly be mad at you for this one. You’d missed your flight to Calgary, a few days post a second loss in the semi finals that you’d been taking much better this time around. Mainly because Matthew wasn’t there, but his stupid smile and words of encouragement where there on facetime hours later. That wasn’t the reason you were late, the reason you were late was because you’d received the most insane news of your life and it was an important phone or that flight. You’d caught the next one, legs shaking not to just call him and share the news, but you needed to tell him in person.

You’d finally gotten by the doors to the locker room entrance, out of breath from spriting there from your cab. There was Matthew, tapping his phone and staring at the clock on his phone with furrowed eyebrows. He was still in his suit, tie pulled a little looser, a nervous habit you realized he had some time ago, “Matty-”

“Don’t call me that just because you know you’re late,” Matthew huffs, already ready for the pout that would have followed so he’d forget all about the fact that you promised you’d make it on time. He holds his hand out, waiting for the handshake he made up in the car on the way to the first game you went to after he finally locked it down. You laugh, slapping your hand against his and letting him pull you closer for a kiss.

“They want me on the National Team,” You mumble against his lips, the words spilling out of your mouth when you pull away with an excited smile. Matthew stood there stunned, while you shuffled your feet in the little dance you did when you were really happy. He grabs your cheeks, pressing kisses to your lips again and again.

“We’re celebrating after this, holy shit,” Matthew cheers, still stunned by your news, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, now go score a few goals so we have even more to celebrate,” You kiss him one more time, pushing him before the door before he was late.

“Anything I do seems unimportant now!” Matthew calls out, a light laugh to his voice as he watched you walk away to go sit in the stands.

And that’s how Matthew thought it should be.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

965 notes · View notes

lazybakerart · 2 years

Note

what's been entertaining me this week is billy hearing about Big Dick Harrington and finally getting steve in bed and like gagging to be choked by steve's huge dick but when he finally gets into steve's pants it's just. a normal dick. average. billy is like looking under steve's shirts and down the leg of his jeans and steve's like "what are you doing" and billy is like "looking for the rest of it"

for whatever reason hawkins just breeds lower than average sized dicks so every girl that has seen steve's is like damn DAMN!! THAT'S SO BIG!!! and steve believes it bc the only place he's ever seen a huge dick is in porn and like he's a dumb dumb but not dumb enough to not realize porn isn't reality. billy is also p average which doesn't help convince steve that his dick isn't ginormous

oh God.

to add to this:

Billy is a Virgin so it's not like he has any experience outside of side-eyeing Big Dick in the locker room back in California or the p0*no rags he and his buddies find in the back of the local hamburger joint

Billy is in a battle of getting passed around and stuffed full fantasy vs The Incredibly Awkward reality where Billy has to actually be a person

after the whole fiasco of Billy laughing at Steve's dick, Steve doesn't talk to or look at Billy for about a month

Steve actually goes out of his way to avoid breathing the same air as Billy

Billy gets his attention back by letting the air out of one of the beemer's tires. with a knife (that he keeps in his boot, Of Course)

Steve punches him

They fight

after, Steve asks (blushing and avoiding looking anywhere near Billy or his own crotch) if his dick really is small

Just right, would be too nice to say and a little too on the nose Goldilocks and Billy has a bad boy reputation to protect so Billy decides on Real Cute

there is

much

pouting

#harringrove #replies #how not to get a guy by billy hargrove and his awful loud mouth #poor stebe #billy is not good at being a person that sad trashcan

76 notes · View notes

persphonesorchid · 3 years

Text

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

↬ KEY: F - Fluff, A - Angst , M - smut, mature content.

Notes: Hello! Thanks for stopping by, if you look at the guide key above you'll see the little M I have there for mature content. Now, not all of my fics contain such, but those that do, and fics that will contain it are and will be indicated by the M. Under no circumstances are minors allowed to read them, if you see a fic here and the M is there after the summary, if you are not 18 years and older, you do not see it. That fic does not exist for you. If you interact with it and I find out that you weren't supposed to, I will not hesitate to block you.

Otherwise, you lot have fun!

Please consider supporting me - Here

↬ Butterfly - Namjoon’s soulmark was so weird, it was supposed to be what matters most to your soulmate…But who in the hell likes butterflies so darn much?! [F , A ]

Part Of The Euphoria series

| Read HERE |

↬ Lover's Touch || Drabble|| - Namjoon is stressed - when is he never? And you, being the attentive girlfriend that you are, takes care of him the same way he would you. [F , A ]

| Read HERE |

↬ Paper Planes || Drabble|| - Namjoon likes to think you'd both floated into this, floated downwards from a place where it was only him and only you. Meeting at some point to float down together, gently, like a drizzle. [F]

| Read HERE |

↬ Orbiting Jupiter || NEW || - Namjoon has never met someone like you in a long time. Jupiter to his Ganymede; he's stuck in your orbit.

| Teaser | Read HERE |

↬ Sugar & Spice - Seokjin was pretty certain nothing out of the ordinary was going to happen when he took his students to his beach house this summer. [F]

Part Of The Euphoria series

Teacher!Jin X Woc!Reader

| Read HERE |

↬ Rings - All Jin knew was the ropes of a boxing ring, the pain of broken limbs. He grew up in this life, making a name for himself, the path that his father had carved out for him. He knew nothing of a gentle touch and soft whispers and a sweet girl who had no business around the likes of him. [F, A, M]

Boxer!Au

| Teaser | Read full fic HERE

↬ Cupid's On Holiday - You don't get it, you're a damn catch. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You're smart, you're tidy, hell you'd give up your own kidney to a homeless guy if he needed it that bad. So what the issue? Failed relationships, blind date after blind date, and now your friend's competitive archery teammate is telling you he's Cupid here to help you find your one true love. You're not that desperate. He could take those golden arrows and shove 'em.[F,A,M}

Part of the Catch Of The Century Collab

| Teaser | Read HERE

↳ Picking Peonies || Drabble ||: Roses are outdated and overused. Bloomingdales even more so. Drabble within the COH universe in which Seokjin never left. [F]

Read HERE

↳ Tasting Jealousy || NEW ||: Seokjin is more than happy to accompany you to your company's New Year's Eve party, he's not happy however, that your co-worker is trying to flirt with you. The presence of this man brings up feelings Seokjin thought he left behind him. COH universe fic :) [F,A,M]

Read HERE

↬ Hearing Voices - At the age of fifteen, every child gets their soulmark. Except, Yoongi didn’t get one, what he did get, was the voice of someone else in his head. [ A, F]

Part Of The Euphoria series

Radio Host!Yoongi X Reader

| Read HERE |

↬ Mark Of The Arcane - Centuries before, in the times of the ancient Kings, a prophecy was heard. When the three kingdoms of Valerem fall to ruins, their savior would come in blinding starlight. Who is this savior, you may ask? None other than Min Yoongi, who was too busy being late to work to realize he definitely wasn’t on earth anymore.

Fantasy!AU

| Teaser | Character Index | Chapter Archive |

↬ Hierarchy - Requested by Anon: Saw you were looking for requests so I come nearing gifts!! I’d like to request an panther hybrid yoongi x bunny hybrid reader enemies to lovers college au!! yn goes to a uni where most of the students are preds, yoongi hates her for some reason despite her being really nice, ANGST PLEASE!! [A, F]

Hybrid!AU

| Teaser | Read HERE |

↬ Auburn Skies || Part of the Autumn Leaves Collab || Everyone knows that if your best friend has a little sister, she's off limits. That, and the fact that your best friend will probably kill you if you even think about going near his sister. Yoongi knows this. There's no way he could tell Namjoon that once upon a time you kissed him, drunk in his living room after a break up. So much time's passed since then, too much time to bring it up now, but Yoongi still thinks about it, he's still a little hopeful. Now you're here at the lake house because Namjoon brought you and you clearly have something you want to say to Yoongi.

Namjoon's gonna kill him. [F,A,M]

Best friend's sister au

| Teaser | Read HERE |

↬ New Beginnings || Drabble || - You get a new job, and Yoongi's there to make sure your day starts off on the right foot. [F]

| Read HERE |

↬ Hatin' On You - You absolutely loathe min yoongi, and honestly, you have no idea why - his vibe rubs you in all the wrong ways. When you and him suddenly find yourselves in a room with a shaman, things get ridiculously complicated. [F, A]

| Teaser | Read HERE |

↳ Lovin' On You || Hatin' on you sequel || - After what happened at the fair, Yoongi is plagued with a re-occurring nightmare of a life that was once his. For a reason that escapes him, he's held on to the Lover's card.

| Teaser | Read HERE |

↬ Fate's Doing; Hoseok loses his son on a hot summer day in Seoul and Fate sets her plan in motion.[A, F ]

Part Of The Euphoria series

One | Two | Three |

↬ Constellations Of You - A new chapter of Him and You begins. He’s waited a long time for this, for the mornings where he could wake next to you in a house you’d both made a home of. [F, M - 18+]

| Read HERE |

↬ Two Steps || COMING SOON - summary to be changed || - You want to learn how to dance, and you heard that Hope World was the best place to do just that. You were expecting to go in, learn some steps and feel accomplished, not find that your soulmate was the very cute dance instructor. [ ]

Part of the Euphoria series

Dance Instructor!Jimin X Reader

Soulmate!AU

↬ Unveil || COMING SOON - summary to be changed || - Taehyung was way too busy to be bothered with going to some stupid college party. He doesn’t care just how much Jungkook begged. [ ]

Part of the Euphoria series

Artist!Taehyung X Reader

Soulmate!AU

↬ Sunset Muse || Drabble || - Taehyung just wants to take photos of you [F]

Read HERE

↬ Sativa || Drabble || - You and Tae get high with your friends

Read HERE

↬ Wonder Wall || COMING SOON || - Summer projects were a breeze. Well, it would have been, if Jungkook wasn’t paired with the girl that hates his guts. How crazy is it that she’s his soulmate, too?

Part of the Euphoria series

College Student!Jungkook X Reader

Soulmate!AU

↬ Red Carnations - Requested By Anon

Summary: Jungkook makes you watch a horror that scared you.

Roommates AU

| Read HERE |

↬ Backyard Boy - Jungkook loves you, he won't tell you now, but maybe someday. Right now, he's just gonna look after you.

Best Friends to ? AU

Read HERE

↬ Spring Crescent - It's just you, Jungkook, and spring time. [F]

Read HERE

『__________ 』

Timestamps: 12:00

#bts #bts masterlist #kim namjoon #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin #kim seokjin x reader #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #park jimin #park jimin x reader #kim taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #soul mates #soulmate au #bts aren't idols in Euphoria universe #Persphonesorchid #Persphonesorchidmasterlist

426 notes · View notes

staysaneathome · 2 years

Text

A Baker Fell in Love With Family Robinson

Thirteen years prior…

Martin looks up from removing the last of the lunchtime bakes from the oven as the bell over the door rings, and has to restraint his smile into something much less soppy at the sight of the man stumbling through.

Thankfully, Jon Robinson’s back is turned to him for some reason, so he has time to school his expression to one more appropriate for a close(?) friend.

And then Jon turns around and all of Martin’s effort is rendered useless by the sight of what’s in Jon’s arms.

“Oh hello. You’re not Callum, are you? What’s your name?” Martin says delightedly.

Jon glares at him, as the baby in his arms babbles around where it’s valiantly attempting shove his hand into its mouth. “Aggie has me babysitting. She and Jack are worried about their other bun in the oven, and Melanie and Daisy’re too busy taking care of their own little monsters to help me with this one.”

Martin gasps. “Oh, no. Your Uncle Jon doesn’t mean that. That’s a mean thing to say to a sweet little duck like you, isn’t it?”

The baby shrieks in agreement, releasing Jon’s hand for a moment, little legs kick, kick, kicking in excitement.

Jon’s arms automatically adjust to cradle the energetic baby more firmly against his chest, newly freed hand cupping their tiny head carefully.

Even covered in odd, not quite bite marks and baby slobber, they’re still the most elegant hands Martin’s ever seen. This scene is not helping stave off any of the idle fantasies that Martin’s been having about Jon being a dad (with a purely hypothetical partner that in no way resembles Martin and children that aren’t a mixture of the two of them, no siree, nope).

“You’d say the same if you had to wake up to Callum screeching every night just after we’d finally got this one to settle down.” He mutters darkly. “And Alexa’s convinced Lynn’s her new dress up doll, so she gets her so overexcited it’s near impossible to do that in the first place, because you just love to play don’t you?”

The baby, Lynn, burbles in agreement, little arms flailing, before she shoves one of her tiny fists into her mouth.

Martin tries not to be charmed by the way Jon immediately goes “ah, ah, no, none of that young lady” and tries to fish the offending limb out, and fails miserably.

“At least she’s a happy baby?” He suggests.

“She’s teething.” Jon says, like this is somehow a conspiracy against him.

The baby latches onto Jon’s finger.

“Ow!”

Martin tuts. “Poor you. Hang on, I might have something that might help—how old is she? Is she eating solid foods yet?”

“Six months. And mostly milk or mashed stuff, no whole solids yet.” Jon rattles off absentmindedly.

He’s resorted to playing an odd game of tug of war in his attempts to rescue his finger from his niece.

“Darn.” Martin says without heat, changing course from the fridge to the cupboards, ferreting around in a drawer once he’s there. “I was hoping I could donate some spare cherries from the Smith’s order. I’ve got loads of deseeded ones.”

There’s a moment of silence.

Then the sound of rustling paper fills the air and Martin turns in time to see Jon’s irises go a brilliant, iridescent green.

“Dr. Smith will have an allergic reaction to the black forest cake.” His voice is faraway and echoing. “His family don’t know he’s mildly allergic to cherries, because he’s hidden it as he knows this cake is his partner and his daughter’s favorite.”

Lynn stares up at her uncle, paused in the act of gnawing on his finger.

Jon stops talking and exhales, the green glow fading from his eyes as a resigned, almost beaten look grows on his face. “Ah—damn. Sorry, Martin.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Jon.” Martin says, crossing over to the fridge after all. “Honestly, I’m more glad you told me before I could assemble it— I don’t think Oscar would be very happy with me if one of my cakes sent his partner into anaphylactic shock.”

One of Lynn’s little hands comes up to pat at Jon’s nose and mouth with a decisive “Maaaah! Mah!”

Jon’s nose wrinkles as he tilts his head back to escape the affections of the wiggling baby, an unwitting smile tugging at his lips. “Yes, yes, thank you for your input.”

Jon’s still got a hangdog air about him, so Martin asks, “Do you know if he has any problems with cranberries?”

There’s another moment of silence.

Jon’s expression looks like he’s about to sneeze.

Lynn pats at his face again with a slightly more worried “Bah?”

“Ah, yes, I’m fine, I’m alright, enough of that please,” Jon tilts his head again to avoid more patting, dancing his fingers over his niece’s belly to make her squeal with laughter and curl up like a woodlouse. “But, nothing happened, so I, I think it’ll be fine?”

“Wonderful! I managed to get some—early harvest this year, you know.” Martin places the bowl of chilled sliced cherries on the counter between them. “Now we can get rid of the evidence.”

Jon grins, a small tentative thing as he reaches out a snags a small handful. The juice stains his fingers and teeth almost purple.

Martin can’t keep himself from staring, even as he picks a few cherries up for himself.

Lynn stares as well.

This turns out to be much less daydreamy than Martin’s staring, as it means when Jon goes back for his third handful, Lynn begins twisting and wiggling, trying to reach for whatever her uncle has that he’s putting in his mouth, but not letting her put in hers.

Jon tries to evade these efforts by holding his handful of fruit out of his niece’s reach so he can pop it into his mouth.

Unfortunately, it is much more difficult to hold a squirming, determined baby one-handed than it is when you have two hands free.

Martin sees Jon’s hold slip. “Oh sh—!”

Jon, through a frankly impressive feat of speed and upper body strength Martin hadn’t previously thought him capable of, hooked one elbow under the baby’s legs and the other hand over the back of her head, hoisting her up to his shoulder and clutching her close in a tight grip that’s only a few degrees away from turning his knuckles white.

One of his cheeks bulges with the cherries he’d been about to eat, like a squirrel’s.

The two of them stare at each other, over the sound of the foot traffic outside and Lynn’s surprised burbling.

Martin chuckles weakly, gradually pulling back from where he’d been half-lunged over the counter, hands splayed. “Well, um…nice catch?”

Jon swallows and exhales shakily. “May. Maybe I should, should go. I wouldn’t want to keep you, not when you’re busy…”

Martin’s heart plummets as Jon hunches in on himself, the self-loathing radiating off him in almost visible waves. He can’t let Jon go like this, can’t let this be another thing he beats himself up over. Not when everyone is so down on him already for his gift.

“I, um. I could hold her, if you’d like?” He blurts, abruptly.

Jon blinks, nonplussed.

“I mean, it’s just— I know I won’t be able to eat all of these on my own.” Martin continues, mentally wincing at the words coming out of his mouth. “Plus, I, I did say I had something to help. With, with the teething. Just, please. Give me a chance to try?”

Jon pauses halfway to the door, cradling his niece close, face conflicted. Even Lynn’s gone quiet, making Martin’s thundering heartbeat feel like the loudest thing in the small bakery.

Jon sighs and begins to tentatively walk back towards him, and Martin’s heart leaps.

“Well, if you’re sure…”

There’s a moment of unsure hands and taking weight and Lynn staring nervously at the both of them, but eventually the transfer is complete and Martin has a small, warm bundle of baby Robinson peering up at him from the crook of an elbow.

“Hello Lynnie.” He breathes, enchanted as her mouth widens in a tentative smile at the sound of her name.

He can see the pointy little triangles of white where a few milk teeth are already poking through.

“Getting some teeth already, are you?” He asks her. “Looks like you’re doing a very good job so far, well done. It itches, doesn’t it? Growing a whole set of chompers, all on your own. Hard work you’re doing.”

Lynn babbles back, little fists waving in the air, as if she’s agreeing with him.

“Well, why don’t we try this?” He proffers the head of his least used wooden spoon in her reach, the color still light and the woodgrain whole and smooth. “My mum said she swore by this to get me to stop fussing when mine were coming in.”

He keeps a firm hold on the handle of the spoon so she doesn’t try and bite on more than she can handle and accidentally choke when she yanks it towards her mouth after a moment of suspicious examination.

His mum’s scolded him for doing the same once when he was small enough times over the years that he won’t make that mistake here.

Luckily, Lynn seems happy enough with the corner she’s managed to “nom” onto, not spitting it out like he’d worried she might.

“Yeah, that feels better, doesn’t it? Much better than your nice Uncle Jon’s hands.” Martin coos down at her, as she stares up at him, wide-eyed and entranced. She’s so little in his arms, barely bigger than a loaf of bread.

He bounces her gently, feeling uncommonly delighted at the way she shifts and settles contentedly, eyes going half-lidded as she really focuses on gumming at the wooden spoon, teeny tiny hands wrapping around the bit of the handle he’s not holding and one of his fingers.

Her fingernails are so small. He didn’t know they were allowed to be that small.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jon leaning stock still against the counter, watching them without moving.

Maybe he’s still wary for Lynn’s safety?

“Your uncle’s lucky you’re such a sweetheart.” He coos, shooting a quick conspiratorial grin up at Jon. “Imagine if you were getting your gift at eight months instead of eight years.”

Jon immediately groans. “Don’t say that, it’d be a nightmare. It’s hard enough getting Petra to come in out of the flowerboxes when she’s not little enough to get swallowed up by them. And, oh good lord, we would’ve lost Alexa within a week, or, or been stuck with a terrifying mismash of a baby. Tiny head, giant body and all that.”

Martin snorts, trying desperately not to jostle Lynn to much with his laughter. “Jon!”

Jon snickers back at him as he takes another handful of cherries.

“And what would your gift be, hm?” Martin says to Lynn, who is now throughly uninterested in anything but the wooden spoon she’s nibbling on. “If your tiny baby arms could open the magic door, what would you get?”

“Nutcracker.” Jon says automatically. “Or magic teeth. Anything to do with biting, really. Very bitey, that one.”

Martin gasps theatrically, cuddling Lynn close. “Why sir! Slandering your own niece’s good name like this? How could you?”

Jon holds up his gnawed on hand with a dry look. “Easily.”

Martin can’t even keep a straight face for more than a minute before he cracks up at that, Jon’s laughter joining his and filling the bakery, little Lynn even pulling the spoon out of her mouth to burble along excitedly.

It’s almost impossible to hear it when the bell above his door rings again.

Martin does take notice when Melanie Robinson strides in though, face set in an odd expression of mingled annoyance and humor as she advances on her brother.

“Where’ve you been, Jon? Aggie sent you out for those tarts ages ago!”

Martin has to do a double take, as Sasha James’ voice comes out of Melanie’s mouth.

Jon doesn’t look nearly so surprised. “Wrong voice, Alexa.”

Melanie pouts.

Before Martin’s eyes, she shrinks down until her nine year old daughter is standing before them, arms crossed. “No fair, Uncle Jon.”

Jon just smiles at her, proffering a piece of fruit in apology. “Sorry. You’ll get it soon, don’t worry.”

She strides up to the counter, taking both what her uncle offered and helping herself to another. “But it’s been aaaages, what happened? Are they out of Bakewell tarts for Auntie Aggie already?”

Jon freezes in the process of lifting another cherry to his mouth, darting a guilty look at Martin.

“Ah.”

“Did you forget, Uncle Jon?” Alexa pipes up, delighted. “You didn’t forget, did you? Did you?”

Jon shoots him a long suffering look and pointedly crams a larger portion of cherries into his mouth to avoid answering.

Martin snickers. “Right. Shall I give this one back to you and get some of those then?”

Jon was not joking about Alexa’s talent for getting her baby cousin overexcited.

It only takes a few minutes of switching between faces while playing peekaboo to have little Lynn shrieking, tiny fists flailing in a way that would have everyone in reach getting thwacked with a dribble-covered spoon, had Martin not had the foresight to reclaim it.

Jon’s looking pretty harried as it is, and they haven’t even left yet.

“Here, Alexa, why don’t you carry the tarts and the cherries for your uncle?” Martin offers, proffering the bags of their purchases and the gift of the excess cherries. “Though, maybe it’ll all be a bit heavy for someone as small as you…”

Alexa looks mildly indignant for a moment. Then her form’s shifting, molding like melting wax, until Daisy Robinson is standing before him, with a cocky grin on her face.

“Heavy? This is nothing, Mr. Martin! C’mon, Uncle Jon!” Even knowing who it is, it’s disconcerting hearing such a high-pitched voice coming from Daisy’s mouth, let alone the sight of her skipping out of the bakery.

Jon hitches his younger niece higher on his hip with a sigh.

“Right well. Best be off, I suppose. Uh, thank you, Martin. For, um, the food, and helping with the teething.”

“Oh not at all! It was no problem, she’s a sweetheart.” Martin says. If he adds ‘so are you’ in his head, well. That’s nobody’s business but his own.

He waves “bye-bye” to Lynn as she babbles over her uncle’s shoulder at him while he opens the door, mouth wide in a baby smile that shows off all her growing teeth.

He’s not expecting Jon to prop a foot in the doorway, and use one of his hands to lift one of her little arms to wave back for a few moments, before dropping his gaze and purposefully speed-walking away, like no one could prove Jonathan Robinson is a massive, adorable softy if he just moves fast enough.

Martin has to take a few minutes in the back to get over the butterflies this gives him before setting about making the replacement cranberry compote for the Smith’s cake.

Still.

The memory of Jon shooting him a sheepish smile while Lynn ‘waves’ at him is something that Martin will treasure for years to come.

Particulary after Jon vanishes when Lynn’s gift ceremony goes Wrong.

59 notes · View notes

marvelyhp · 3 years

Text

Still you

Chapter one: Lion's den

Sypnosis: Y/n decides to help the avengers despite their betrayal two years prior and her life makes a big shift once again.

pairing: Y/n x Bucky Barnes and some Y/n x Sam Wilson

word count: 3,452

warning: slight mention of sex, cursing.

note: I have this idea for a mini-series but I'm not sure if it will be liked so I guess I'll see where it goes. constructive criticism welcomed :)

Side note: if anyone wants to be tagged, you can leave a comment or message me :)

_______________

My knife pierced the air. A hand grabbed my wrist before I could strike the skin with the blade. The attacker threw me aside, spiraling me around. With my hand still in his grip, my left hand shot out to hit him on the temple. A grunt was heard from what I knew to be a man.

A hand collided with my ribs as they released my right hand. The air in my lungs was momentarily thin when there was pressure behind my knees, causing them to buckle. I refused to go down alone. My hand shot out to grab his neck in the dark, a small smile of triumph emerged on my face as I grabbed it. A mess of grunting and shortness of breath mixed with the sound of our bodies landing heavily on the ground. Rolling over while holding him tightly, I managed to get on top of his heavy build. My legs were spread beside his hips, sighing against the floor as my left hand pressed against his chest to prop myself up. I quickly pressed the kitchen knife in my right hand against his throat. I narrowed my eyes, trying to focus on my attacker's face despite the lack of light in the living room.

I was panting when I could place the color on his eyes. Steely blue orbs stared back at me, an emotion I couldn't decipher was shining deep. Sweat ran down his eyebrows and perspiration glistened on his forehead. There I was, staring at the man I'd thought of for two years. I held his gaze, unable to look away and so did he. However, I was the first to break eye contact as my eyes roamed over his face, finally pausing on the lush curve of his lips. They were slightly open, breathing heavily. I hoped to hide how my breath caught, looking away when the images of his mouth doing more than breathing interrupted my mind. I tried to think about everything that had happened to recapture the initial hatred and disdain I felt for the man in front of me two years ago.

I noticed the way his hand was bent in front of our bodies, a clear sign of defeat as he breathed rapidly from the struggle, just like me. I looked into his eyes once more as I thought about the precarious position we were both in. However, I did not move. The trust between him and I had been broken a long time ago, something my body would have to understand. I couldn’t trust him and I would never do so again. Just when I thought we were alone, another voice came from the apartment's voice.

"That's why I told you to go first, Manchurian Candidate. She always had a soft spot for you. See, Romanoff?" Tony Stark's irritating voice invaded my living room. The sound of his voice interrupting the fantasies I was engaging in my head. Annoyance coated my mood knowing who was in the house and the fact that someone else was on the line, listening and probably seeing everything. I so didn't miss this. I flatly ignored any kind of indication that he was standing near me while still staring at Bucky's face. Taking him in for the first time in two years.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, confusion and irritation filling my tone. It was mostly irritation since they broke into my apartment, in the middle of the night during the best sleep I've had in a while. Yes, I was definitely annoyed. I looked at James, who was still pinned under the weight of my body. A weight I was sure he could flip at any time if he wanted. I resisted the urge to snarl.

"We came because we need your help." Of course, they did. Why else would they come? I fought the unpleasant feelings that threatened to resurface and just stared at him. His breathing had slowed down from the strain earlier. So did mine. I noticed that our chests were moving at the same rhythm and part of me asked if it had anything to do with us, with how well our bodies knew each other. If they remembered what I thought had happened. I tried to focus on his responses rather than the way his warmth felt against my core, the skin of my thighs, and my hand pressing against his chest. Instead of the way the curve of his body felt against mine. Instead of his lips and the way they felt on my skin, tracing every inch of me. My right hand pressed against his stomach, the feel of his hard muscles and the heat seeping through my skin made me hyper-aware of our position. I mentally slapped myself before letting a humorless laugh escape my lips. I noticed the way his eyes focused on me.

"Why didn't you knock?" I cussed myself. After all this time they come looking for me, just for help and the first thing I tell them is to knock on the door. It was a ridiculous remark because even if they had, I wouldn't have opened the door. I had to give them credit. They remembered quite well how angry I left the compound. On top of that, they remembered enough about me to know that I didn't trust anyone enough to open any damn doors. Well, if I was giving away credits, some could be given to Stark. It was a smart move to put Bucky in the lead because as much as he hurt me, I could never hurt him. Oh, and how I tried that day. I had two years to think about what occurred, to think about everything. I tried to hate him and I failed miserably. I tried to forget it and it never worked. I could never forget that he had been the only one who had not treated me as a threat or maybe he only thought so. He knew what I had been getting off from. Either way, it didn’t matter. Stark would’ve been stabbed for sure.

"Would you have opened it?" The question came in a mocking tone. I became alert when his right hand took mine, pulling the dagger away from his neck. I forbid myself to feel any kind of sympathy when I saw a thin red cut where my dagger had been, a single drop draping at the end. I was ripped out of my thoughts when my breathing hitched. His left hand brushed the bottom of my thigh, hidden out of Tony's sight. My breath caught in my throat as his hand settled on my smooth skin, his fingertips digging into my thigh.

"No, probably not." My voice came calmer than I thought. Even then, I realized that he was out of breath and I hated myself for it. how conscious I was of him. The skin under his palm was burning, a blazing trail following his every move, every touch. The hotness was beginning to spread the more he gripped my skin. My breathing became more and more erratic once his hand started rubbing the outer part.

"Well, that's enough lovebirds." Tony's voice shifted me back to where I was and the situation surrounding us. So, I did what I should have done a while ago. I sprung up from his body, welcoming the cold rush of air I felt cooling the hotness of my skin. The hand he used to rub me was now rubbing the cut on his neck gently. I turned to flick the light, the brightness stinging my eyes for a second before I turned my head towards Bucky.

In a swift movement, he was standing beside me. The ocean of his eyes looking straight into me. Memories of us invaded my brain before a deep disdain grew in my chest. I ignored every emotion that I didn’t understand —neither cared to— swimming in his eyes. I cursed myself as my body still felt flushed with the way he looked at me. A warm sensation pooling in my lower abdomen. I looked away, a scowl creeping onto my face as I laid eyes on Stark´s form. Everything I felt and desired to forget was whisked away by it, my hate for Stark coming in full bloom.

I couldn't help but distort my face in a frown. He had undervalued and underestimated me so many times before I had no more sympathy for the mortal. I never pondered why I had faith he would ever consider me part of his team, of his family. I clearly tried giving too much compassion to the human race.

“You want my help? You?” my finger pointed towards the red and gold suit standing in the corner of my dining space. A snort flew past my lips as a humorless laugh came deep from within my chest. This definitely had to be an emergency. That, or the man was a masochist and he finally discovered what makes him tick after two years.

“Believe me, failed human, I’m not happy about this. However, I do accept you’re the only one, besides Wanda, able to kill enemies with a wider range.” He looked physically hurt to be saying the last part. He had never been good at admitting things about people he never liked.

I kept my face impassive but the truth of how I felt when I heard those words was different. I was suddenly taken back to the times where this was a daily occurrence. Where I was shunned, verbally abused, and not wanted every day. Not only by Tony but by Hydra and just about everyone. I thought about my so-called family back home. About all those times I- I couldn’t even continue. My resentment and hatred for Stark erupted in me, bringing back years of unsaid words and silent tears in the corners. I tried to calm my rapid breathing and the itching in my hands to stab him.

“You can go to hell, Stark.” I stalked off towards the kitchen, knowing if I stood there any longer this would result in a bloodbath. something to create space between us was needed. I let the knife drop with a clank on the sink. I allowed my body to rest against the counter, my hands gripping the edges. Exhaustion made its way quickly through my body though not as heavily as before these days. The alertness and adrenaline in my body numbing the feeling.

“Unfortunately, that’s where we’ll all go if you don’t help us. We need your powers to save the world, falsie. Your time to shine,” his smile was forced and the trust he wanted me to feel was nonexistent. “Oh, and has anyone hinted you look like shit over here? What have you been doing these past two years? Not a glow-up I presume.” The last words were muttered but he knew I would hear because of my god-like abilities.

I was hurt at every word he said but I was mad at myself for letting him affect me. Both feelings moved lively inside me, both wanting attention right this moment. I couldn’t let him see how hurt I was by his words because I knew that was what he wanted. I wondered how his life with Pepper Potts was. But a part of me thought that was irrelevant since he hadn’t liked me since the moment he saw me. His distaste and distrust had been clear since the beginning. He thought he was better, more morally right. Even then, I had never put cared ones in danger, but he had.

As mad as I was, he was right. The bags under my eyes were dark and prominent and they were sign enough of my lack of sleep. Exhaustion had taken a toll on my body. Getting two or four hours of sleep was becoming more and more difficult to withstand. I was aware of how much weight I had lost since I saw them but paranoia wasn't exactly your friend if you were hiding from killers and triggers for your mind. Having to run every few months and hide was becoming tiring. I was mentally and physically exhausted. The desire to tamper with my memories and make me forget became increasingly stronger as days went by but I knew I couldn't. I needed to remember every deed I had done and I needed to remember how I felt while I did it. I felt obliged to suffer for them.

“Fuck you.”

“So touchy,” he sat in the gray chair of the black dining table beside the door. His fingertips stroke the tip of the snake plant in the center of it. I just stared. Hostility irradiated from my person and expanded across the room. The tension in the air strong as a chokehold. “I have deprecating nicknames for everyone. Don’t feel special.” I wanted to punch that fucking denigrating smile right out of his face. He knew what bothered me the most. He knew my insecurities and I felt an instant disdain flare-up in my body towards James. I wanted to punch them but I opted to be more civilized and not act like exactly what he thought I was.

“I didn’t escape Hydra after 60 years so some asshole with an overinflated sense of self-worth could treat me like the scum of the earth. Sorry, metal can but you’ll have to shove your world-saving mission up your ass.” I snapped. So much for acting civilized.

“The kitty’s got claws. Was wondering when they would say hello.” He puckered his lips, a mocking gesture soon followed by the rise of his eyebrows. He looked towards Bucky, wiggling his brows. A whistle interrupted the sudden silence filling the room. Before I could even register, the desire to climb across the counter and smash his face against it flourished in me like poisoned vines. Before I could complete the action, Bucky’s voice reached my ears.

"Y/n, please. Thousands we’ll die if we don’t fight this war. If you don’t help us, we will die.” Bucky stepped closer to the counter, hands resting against the edge.

“What makes you think I will prevent that?”

“Even if we don’t win it, it will lessen the casualties,” his eyes bored straight into mine. “We need you.”

I need you.

The sincerity in his voice and the pleas of help smudged all over his voice softened the raging anger inside my heart. Unsaid words hanged around us like leaves falling from trees, already softening the walls I had built around my heart. Doubts surfaced.

My wish to leave Tony fend for himself battled with the faces of those who defended me at some point in my stay in the Avenger’s tower and while I was on the run with both Steve and Bucky. Steve and Natasha had been weary of me, as I expected they would but they warmed up to me. We were not exactly brothers and sisters but they tried to help. I had thought of them to be friends or something close before I found everything out. Wanda had tried to understand me and be there. She had not been involved in anything. And Vision, he had always been an ally and never doubted my loyalty. He never knew of the plan either. Banner didn’t talk much and T’challa was a friend. Tony was the person that made my life a living hell and turned everyone against me.

I tried to understand him, at first. I thought he was trying to protect his team, his people. I was a potential threat and I understood that but I never implied or acted as though I wanted to hurt them like he made everyone think. Every time he had a chance, he would mention disloyalty or my so-called shady behavior. Yes, I had problems trusting my own mind after Hydra, but I never wanted to hurt the people my brother trusted and the people who gave me a home. I knew what triggered the memories and the episodes of countless tortures, experiments, and missions made for and by Hydra. I was also aware of who I killed and T’challa helped with the rest. He thought my actions to protect myself -and them indirectly- made me a menace.

After some time, I knew I would never win his favor and change what he thought about me. How he saw me. So, I stopped trying too.

A war raged inside me. I felt conflicted. For one, I didn’t know how everyone would react to seeing me after two years, especially when I didn’t leave on the best terms. Two years in which they knew nothing about me and never tried to. It had stung that none of them tried to find me or followed me after I left devastated that night. But Bucky, Bucky hurt the most. I thought he felt towards me or at least cared for me but I was mistaken. I had left hope brew inside me when I shouldn’t have. We all know hope is a dangerous and deadly thing to feel.

I still got over it or concealed it with everything else to forget. I was used to being treated as means to an end since I was born and survived it all. I was not about to let my world crash and burn for a man and some people I lived with. Even then, I didn’t want to return. But if what Bucky said was true, millions of people would die. The Avengers could die and the world needed them. This was bigger than me and everything that had happened with us.

“I have one condition.” My jaw was set and my tone firm, regret already pulsating through me.

“Absolutely not!” Tony’s reply came fast and clashed with a serious “You name it.” coming from Bucky. I looked between them, trying to decide who I wanted to pay attention to first but decide Tony wasn't worth a damn minute of my time. My eyes settled on Bucky’s blue ones, my voice dead serious.

“I don’t ask for trust because I know I will not give any of you the same but I ask to not be doubted,” My voice took a cutting edge but we all ignored it. “I want to be informed of every detail regarding the situation and the mission, just like everyone else. The moment you all know something I don’t. I’m out.” They both knew how serious I was about this. I promised myself I would never subject myself again to what happened two years prior. The feelings of emptiness and low self-esteem I felt were not something I wanted to deal with. Not from people, I swore would never affect me once again. I could very well torture myself but I was not going to let a team led by a buffoon that thought he had me pegged since he saw me make me think I was nothing.

Bucky knew exactly why I asked for this. He knew how I felt and what led to this as he was just as much in the spotlight as I was. I didn’t trust him, not after everything but I knew he wanted to help and right his wrongs so he would keep his word.

“Now wait a minu-“

“You’re right. If you are going to risk your life for us, you have the right to know.” He lowered his gaze. His words felt heavy with something a feeling I didn’t recognize nor wanted to.

“You can’t be serious about this, Cyborg.”

“She’s right, Stark. I’m sure the team will agree.” He looked at Tony sideways, irritation stretched across his face. Bucky’s voice was definitive. The sharp edge in his voice shut Tony up, who rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. I ignored him as I muttered a quick ‘one minute’ and walked to my room. After changing into a black t-shirt and some jeans, I slid on my leather jacket and put on some boots. A bag of clothes and essentials was made quickly before I stepped out of the room.

When I emerged, Tony was sulking like a five-year-old boy beside Bucky while the man shook his head repeatedly towards him. A sigh escaped Bucky as he pressed his finger to the bridge of his nose. I repressed my urge to laugh at the scene in front of me. Once they saw me, both their face recovered and their postures composed.

“Let’s go.” I said nonchalantly, grabbing my keys.

And just like that, I was walking into the lion’s den once more.

#bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fanfiction #marvel fic #james barnes #marvel fanfiction #bucky x oc #romance fanfiction #angst fanfic

194 notes · View notes

fictional-lvr · 3 years

Text

Goodnight, Angel-G.W

A/N; y’all plz okay this is kinda bad but plz reblog

warning; smut, no actual sex

-----------------------

You found yourself sitting in a circle in the Burrow, surrounded by your best friends, Ron, George, Fred, and Hermione. Your best friend in the entire world was Hermione, with George being a close second. The only thing that Hermione knew that George didn’t, was how in love you were with the fiery-headed boy, something that Hermione relentlessly teased you about. It was quite late, everyone else had gone to sleep except for your little group, and so the five of you had the `great idea` of playing some dumb game where you either had to truthfully answer a question, or take a shot. So far, all of you were at least buzzed, which probably meant that things would get a lil stupid from now on.

“okay. Y/N,” Ron started, giggling along with Hermione, “who’s the hottest person in the room?” Ron could barely get out the question between his and Hermione's’ snickering. You looked around at everyone in the room, pretending to consider for a moment before you spoke

“George.” You stated confidently, smirking at George and earning laughs and giggles from everyone in the room, including him. “Okay go go it’s your turn now!” Hermione encouraged, you chuckled at the sight of tipsy Hermione before turning to Fred and George, who were sitting right beside each other. “Alright, so, this question goes to both of you, cause’ you’re like the same person basically, or whatever, anyways you both have to answer” You rambled, the amount of shots you’ve had catching up with you. George took a swig of firewhiskey before smirking at you. “Ask away, darling.” He replied, his voice covered in a mocking tone for your previous answer. “Right. Biggest kink?” You asked casually, watching as Fred choked on his drink, laughing even harder than Ron and Hermione, and as George burst out laughing along with him, throwing you a wink before telling Fred to go first. “Erm- I dunno, I don’t think ‘m really all that kinky, although I’m quite fond of the idea of a girl wearing a collar for me,” Fred admitted, awkwardly clearing his throat by the end of his sentence. “No shame in that, Freddie, it is kinda hot if I’m being honest” You casually stated, comforting Freds’ nerves. “Your turn, Georgie~” You sing-songed, looking at George expectantly. George quickly took a shot and inhaled deeply, earning a chorus of ‘boos’ from everyone else. “Calm down you maniacs, I’m still gonna answer” He said in fake annoyance, waving everyone off. He took another deep breath before speaking, “Well, darling, where would you like me to start?” His eyes were locked with yours as he grinned, leaving you damn-near speechless, you had always had quite the flirty relationship with him, but never to this extent. He chuckled at your flustered appearance, continuing on with his answer. “Dunno really, m’ into a lot of things, believe it or not. But, I guess I’ll just be basic and say dom/sub dynamic.” He stated casually, shrugging his shoulders as if he hadn’t just left you with a million more fantasies.

The game continued a while, until you all decided that it was late, and you definitely shouldn’t get actually drunk in the middle of the night, at the Burrow. You walked up to George and lightly punched his shoulder to get his attention, “What’s up, darling?” He asked, stopping his path to his room and leaning onto the wall to talk to you. You cringed at yourself a little before asking a favor, “I don’t have any clean pajamas, could I borrow a shirt or something?” George raised an eyebrow and flicked his eyes up and down your body before nodding and waving you into his room. You sat down on his bed as you watched him rummage around in his clothes. Finally, he tossed you an old Nirvana shirt, one that definitely looked good on him, and a pair of boxers. “There ya’ go, let me know if that’s uncomfortable or somethin’, and I’ll grab you something else, yeah?” You nodded and smiled at him before slipping into the bathroom to change, you could smell George on his shirt, he smelled of campfire wood and caramel, a scent you had quickly become fond of when you met him. You shook the thoughts of the hopeless-romantic out of your head, before padding back into Georges’ room. “How do I look?” You asked in a sweet tone, twirling around with a giggle. George chuckled before closing his book and looking at you, “small. you look small.” He stated, snickering as you pouted at him. “M’ not small, you’re just weird. Now, hush and let me read with you” You responded, quickly walking over to Georges’ bed before throwing yourself onto it next to him. He laughed as the bounce of his bed caused the book to fall off, you noticed him shifting uncomfortably as he leaned to retrieve it, the sight of you in nothing but his shirt and boxers- well it was enough to create some discomfort, although you sat next to him, entirely oblivious to how you effected the poor boy.

You rested your head on Georges’ shoulder as he softly read aloud to you, something that he often did to help you sleep, as you always had some trouble falling asleep the first night of a stay at the Burrow. As his smooth voice read the pages to life, you couldn’t help but let your mind wonder, thinking about anything and everything you wished George Weasley would do to you. You were pulled out of your thoughts when you felt a pool of wetness start to form- while you were wearing Georges’ boxers, nonetheless. You shifted a little, trying to subtly rub your thighs together in attempts to relieve the tension. George noticed this exact movement, interrupting himself from his book, “You alright, Bug?” He asked, smiling sweetly at you. Bug, it was a nickname he gave you when you met, because, as he said, ‘you couldn’t even hurt a bug, could you?’. You nodded at him and hummed out a “Mhm”, although, what was supposed to be a hum, came out much more like a squeak than you had intended. “Are you uncomfortable? I could grab a different pair of boxers and throw those in the wash if you’d like-” He could barely get his sentence out before you blurted out a panicked “Uh- no, no, erm, they’re fine, thank you” George raised his eyebrow at you with an amused look on his face, “Alright, m’ gonna keep reading then” He stated, shrugging and continuing on with the story. A couple minutes had gone by and you’d managed to calm down enough to act like your normal self, after having mentally cursed yourself for acting so weird when he asked you if you were alright. “Georgieeee, you’re taking up too much space on the bed” You whined, staring at him with a pout and puppy dog eyes, he playfully rolled his eyes at you before pulling you onto his lap without a word, your back to his chest so you could both still see the book. “Better?” He asked in a teasing voice, you only nodded, not trusting your voice not to betray you again. “Good. now, either go back to your regular room, or quit being a brat and let me continue reading, hm?” His voice was still in that teasing tone, and you wondered if he had any clue at all what his words were doing to you. You felt the wetness caused by his words building between your thighs and into Georges’ boxers, leaving you flushed and flustered. Your lips parted slightly when he casually shifted a bit under you, putting pressure directly onto your clothed heat, and you let out a shaky breath, one that you were convinced George didn’t hear, but, of course, he did, simply writing it off as nothing.

Another few minutes passed by of George reading to you as you were on his lap, moving around seemingly every 30 seconds, but you honestly couldn’t help it, it was impossible to find a comfy position in the state you were in. Eventually, you heard George take in a sharp breath when you shifted in his lap. “Darling, I’m gonna have to ask you to stop moving so much, you’re distracting me from the book, love” His voice came out slightly strained towards the end of his sentence, and you didn’t even think before blurting out, “How come?” George let out a breathy laugh before responding, “Love, I- well, I’m sure you can tell, now please let me help you sleep so that we can forget that this ever happened.” His voice still confident as ever, but with some hint of embarrassment behind it. You mumbled out a shy “sorry”, trying your best to stay still. “No worries, darling. m’ gonna change into something for sleep, okay?” He waited for you to nod before lifting you off his lap, placing you down onto his bed, and walking over to his clothes. You expected him to grab something and go to change in the bathroom, but, much to your surprise, and, lets admit it, pleasure, you watched as George tugged off his shirt and pants before sliding on some plaid pajama pants, something you always had a soft spot for when he would wear them. Damn, this was certainly not helping your predicament. George placed you back onto his lap and continued reading until you were laying back onto his chest, with your head on his shoulder. “I know you’re still not tired yet, love, but it’s late. You can sleep in here with me but I think I’m gonna have to put the book up for tonight.” He told you, putting the book on the floor next to his bed, earning a whine from you. He chuckled, “C’mon, darling, you gotta try to sleep.” He said, rubbing his hand up and down your waist before shifting under you to get into the best position to lift you off of his lap. The way he moved both caused his thigh to run up your inner thigh, and for the fabric of his boxers to graze across your clit. A quiet, almost inaudible, whine, escaped your lips at the feeling. George froze all movement when he heard it, trying his best to keep control over the tent in his pants that you hadn’t yet noticed. Your hands flew to cover your face in utter embarrassment, you felt tears sting your eyes as you slid off of Georges’ lap, too ashamed to even look at him. You felt him move to sit in front of you on the plush bed, gently placing his hands on your shoulders, although you didn’t dare uncover your face. “Bug? Hey, look at me, what’s wrong?” You could hear the sincerity in his voice, but you were just to embarrassed to look at him. “Buggy, it’s alright I- hell I got a semi from you moving around on me” He admitted, the last part coming out as more of a whisper than a statement. You let out a muffled groan of embarrassment, still covering your face and you let your head fall forward in your oblivious soulmates chest. He moved his hands around to your back, holding you in a sweet hug. He giggled quietly, “Aw, darling,” He started, chuckling a bit before continuing, “I know it was just the friction of it, love, it’s alright, I know it doesn’t mean anything” He soothed, gliding his hands up and down your back, trying to ignore the pang in his heart that he felt when he said it meant nothing. You sniffled, shaking your head, feeling more tears rolling down your cheeks. You took a deep breath before pulling away from George, and finally looking him in the eye. Your next words came out so quietly that George almost didn’t hear them, “it wasn’t nothing,” You hung your head in shame, not daring to see Georges’ reaction. He sat there, in front of you, feeling his entire body buzz with joy at your words. Without saying anything, he tilted your chin up and kissed you. Hard. You, of course, kissed back, you swore you could feel every cell in your body on fire in that moment. After only mere seconds, George pulled back, searching your eyes for a reaction before you could speak.

“George?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m in love with you. have been since we were kids.”

You stared into his eyes as you spoke, pupils blown, similar to his. You watched as Georges’ lips turned up into a goofy smile, “I’m in love with you” He whispered back, pulling you into a heated kiss. He trailed his hand down, letting it rest on your upper thigh, reveling in the way your breath picked up at his touch. You felt him smirk against your lips before he softly bit down, taking your bottom lip into his teeth, coaxing a whimper from you. He smiled as he released your lip from his teeth, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “You sound so pretty, darling.” Your breath quickened once again at his words, and you rubbed your thighs together, not-so-subtly this time. George gave a deep chuckle, moving his hand between your thighs, centimeters away from where you needed him most. “Georgie please-” You softly whined at him, trying to move your hips to meet his hand, only to have them pinned down by his other hand. “Be patient, angel” He cooed into your ear, earning a loud whine from you at the petname he chose. He breathed out a laugh, “Don’t you make such pretty sounds when you’re this needy?” He cooed, feeling your hips absent-mindedly trying to roll into his hand. “Now, can you be good and stay quiet for me?” He asked, moving both his hands to cup your cheeks, making you look at him. You nodded, looking at him with pleading eyes. He cocked his head to the side a bit, “Aw, baby, we both know you aren’t stupid. You know I’m gonna need words, doll.” The way he cooed his wishes at you only made you more and more desperate, and you spoke without thinking. “yes sir” You whimpered, not even having time to regret your words before George let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, keep calling me that, right angel?” You grinned at the effect your simple words had on him, you whispered out another “yes sir” before he crashed his lips onto yours, his hands exploring your body as yours snaked around his neck, tugging lightly at his pretty hair, getting a quiet groan from the freckled boy in front of you. You grinned against his lips, him mirroring your actions. His hand slid down to the waistband of his boxers that you were wearing, he started fiddling with the elastic before you pulled away, breathing heavy. “Wait” You spoke, trying to catch your breath. He immediately pulled his hands off of you, placing one on your cheek instead. “What’s the matter, Bug?” He questioned, also trying to catch his breath. “I- uh- I don’t think we should have sex” You nervously blurted out, Georges’ eyes immediately softened and you nodded, “Okay.” He said, nodding at you. You could see in his face how genuine he was- how in love with you he was, you wondered why you never saw that before, perhaps you simply weren’t looking for it. “I’m gonna go grab us some water, alright? You stay here, cool off, I’ll be right back” He told you, giving you a kiss on the forehead once you nodded, padding across the floor into the kitchen. A billion thoughts raced through your head all at once, but you could only fully make out one; “That man is my soulmate” You allowed yourself to fall back onto the bed, smiling widely to yourself. “Here ya’ go, darling, drink.” George whispered, placing a water glass down on the bedside table next to you. You smiled at him, feeling nothing but euphoric love, and took small sips of your water. A few moments of comfortable silence went by as you leaned against George, the both of you cooling down and rehydrating. “I fell in love with you when we were 16″ George softly stated, looking at you with a goofy little smile on his face. You giggled before responding, “rookie numbers. try 14.” Causing you both to laugh, trying not to wake anyone else up. George put down his water glass, before taking yours from your hand and placing it next to his. He pulled you into a hug, of course you had hugged before, but this hug felt different, it felt like home. George sighed contently, pulling you under the covers for the night.

“goodnight, George”

“goodnight, angel, sweet dreams”

#george weasley #george weasley blurb #george weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #george weasley smut #smut #fluff #harry potter #hogwarts #weasley #oneshot #Fic #fanfic

173 notes · View notes