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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 1 year

Text

About Face: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

"Now what else is the whole life of mortals, but a sort of comedy in which the various actors, disguised by various costumes and masks, walk on and play each ones part until the manager walks them off the stage?" - Erasmus

Spencer is still sleeping, but you wanted to bring him breakfast in bed. After last night's activities, it's best that he fuels up for the day. No one else is in the apartment, so you cooked breakfast in all your naked glory. Spencer isn't a light sleeper, but you know that he would wake up at the smell of bacon cooking.

You bring the tray of food into the bedroom right when he opens his eyes. It takes him a few minutes to register what he is seeing, and then his eyes widen.

"What are you doing?"

"Bringing us breakfast."

"You were naked the whole time?"

"What? It's not like there is anyone else here, and it's nothing you haven't seen before," you grin.

You get into bed and kiss him gently, laying the tray between both your bodies. You made bacon, eggs, misshapen pancakes, and two glasses of orange juice. It's a nice way to spend the morning with the man that you love. Breakfast lasted as long as you wanted it to last, and after that, you two got ready for work. You weren't able to have a shower this morning because you took too long to eat, but you don't care about that.

Besides seeing you naked with a tray of food, Spencer is excited for today because it's the day before Halloween. It's the only holiday that he is truly passionate about, and he makes it known to everyone in the office. People at the Bureau like to decorate for the holidays, and this one is no exception. Spencer practically decorated the entire office himself.

Derek isn't into the holiday as much as Spencer is, but that doesn't stop your boyfriend from scaring the daylights out of your friend. Spencer bought two masks, one for you and one for him, to wear when you got into work. Derek doesn't know what's coming to him, and it's going to be hilarious when he sees your masks.

When you walk in with the masks on, JJ and Emily spot you two instantly. They smile, but you put your finger to where your mouth is supposed to be even though it's not showing. You don't want them warning Derek before the scare. He's sitting at his desk with his back turned to you, so he won't see you and Spencer coming. You and Spencer creep up behind Derek, getting as close as you can.

"I'm waiting for you," Spencer says in a weird voice.

Derek jumps and makes a small noise of fright.

"What the fuck," he whispers. You laugh and remove your mask, patting him on the back. "You're lucky we're at work."

"You love us," you grin and take a seat at your desk.

"Happy All Hallows Eve, folks," Spencer says, sliding his mask up so that it's hanging off his head. "To paraphrase from Celtic mythology, tomorrow night all order is suspended, and the barriers between the natural and the supernatural are temporarily remooooved!"

"See, that right there is why Halloween creeps me out," Derek says.

"You're scared of Halloween?" you snicker.

"I didn't say I was scared, I said I was creeped out. There's a difference there, youngster. You should look it up."

"What creeps you out about it?" Emily asks.

"I don't know. People wearing masks. I don't like folks in disguises."

"That's the best thing about Halloween. You can be anyone you want to be."

"Nah, I'm pretty good just being me," Derek shrugs.

"Yeah, why is it that neither of those points of view surprise me?" Emily laughs.

"You know what, though? On the flip side, it does provide a pretty good reason to cozy up with a scary flick and a little halloween honey," Derek smirks.

"Halloween honey. Now I'm creeped out," Emily jokes.

"Guys, he's here," Spencer says.

The person replacing Gideon is going to be none other than David Rossi. He is coming out of retirement for reasons unknown to you, but you're eager to get a read on him. He's just another person to tell your secret to, and another person that might not believe you. Rossi enters the bullpen and locks eyes with you, and you try your best to read anything about him. He doesn't give you the chance as he's already gone from sight and walking up the stairs to Hotch's office.

"Did you get a read on him?" Derek asks you.

"He's very similar to Hotch, but a bit more passive-aggressive and humorous. He didn't give me much to go on."

You and your co-workers try to peer into Hotch's office, but the blinds are covering most of the action. It's not long until the two men walk out and into the bullpen.

"SSA David Rossi, this is SSA Emily Prentiss," Hotch says.

"Sir," she smiles and holds out her hand for him to shake.

"SSA Derek Morgan."

"It's an honor, Agent Rossi," Derek shakes his hand next.

"Please, just Dave."

"Dr. Spencer Reid."

"Sir, if I could talk to you later about your work with the Scarsdale Skinner. Psycho-linguistics is an incredibly dynamic field, and the fact that your profile of his reading habits ultimately led to his capture is something I find so incredibly intrig--"

"Reid, slow down. He'll be here for a while. You can catch up with him later," Hotch chuckles.

"Sorry."

"No problem, doctor."

"Maybe you guys can talk on the jet."

"The jet?"

"We have a jet now. It comes in handy."

"Last but not least, SSA Y/N."

"It's nice to meet you," you smile and grab his hand.

If you couldn't read him before, you can now. He's very arrogant at times, he's been through a lot of shit that made him into the man he is now, and he's hiding something from the team. There is another reason for why he decided to take the position here, and it wasn't to get back into the game.

"Are you okay?" he asks, noticing the look on your face.

"I am so sorry. This is so rude of me," you apologize and take your hand away.

"She's a psychic," Spencer says proudly.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm an empathetic psychic. I connect with the dead and people's auras/energies. It's how I'm able to help with the cases here."

Instantly, you feel distrust and skepticism coming off him--maybe even a bit of annoyance. He doesn't believe, and he almost has a hatred for people who claim to be psychics. The energy in the air shifts, and it's one of those that everyone can feel.

"Come on, JJ is waiting," Hotch clears his throat.

Rossi is the first to leave the group, and you bite your lower lip nervously. You follow the two men into the conference room where everyone gathers. You take your seat next to Spencer and fiddle your fingers together underneath the desk where people can't see. However, Spencer does notice so he reaches for your hand with his own. He interlocks your fingers with his, and you give him a reassuring smile that you're okay.

"Carrollton, Texas is a suburb just outside of Dallas. Four days ago, Michelle Colucci found this flier on her front door."

She brings up a picture of a missing persons poster with Michelle's face on it.

"She found it? As in, she isn't missing?" you ask.

"Yet. She took the flier to a friend's husband, Detective Yarbrough at the Carrollton police department who told her it was probably just a Halloween prank, and he sent her home."

"Well, I don't blame him. Halloween brings out the fool in everyone," Derek shrugs.

You look over at Rossi to see him writing in his small notebook, observing the team quietly.

"Still, he stopped by Michelle's house later to check on her. The door was open, and when he went inside, he found this." She pulls up another picture which is of her bedroom with hundreds of her missing persons flyers on her walls. "He still thought maybe it could be some kind of a prank until yesterday. Michelle was found floating in a small creek just outside of Carrollton. She had been sexually assaulted and her face had been removed."

"Removed? It wasn't animals or fish?" Rossi asks.

"The Dallas County ME says that the edges of the wounds were smooth, not torn. A very sharp instrument had been used. He also found water in her lungs."

"Oh, my God. What is that?" Penelope gasps.

You turn to see the technical analyst standing at the door with a horrified look on her face. She immediately looks away to shield herself from the horrors. JJ takes the pictures off the screen to protect her.

"Technical analyst Penelope Garcia, this is SSA David Rossi," Hotch introduces.

"Is it gone, JJ?"

"Yeah, you're safe."

"Okay. Carrollton, Texas, has nearly 117,000 residents, a diverse population with a... it's all in there," she stutters and hands over the file she put together. "I'm sorry. Very happy to meet you, sir. I'll be in my office. Sorry."

"She's different," Rossi says once she leaves.

"You have no idea," Hotch chuckles.

JJ puts back up the pictures so you can discuss them. There is a picture of a mask that was left behind. It's a plain white mask with the number one painted onto it in black.

"So, the unsub tells her she's going to go missing to psychologically torture her, then tortures her physically. Textbook sadist," Emily says, getting back on track.

"Number one," Derek says about the mask.

"That particular mask is known as a false face. It's most commonly worn during Halloween and Mardi Gras."

"Creepy. I rest my case."

There is something about the masks that makes you believe that the unsub wants to stay anonymous as much as he makes his victims out to be. With you in the picture, it's going to be very hard for him to keep this persona up.

"Local media has the story. It broke big."

"Tell Carrollton we'll be there first thing in the morning. Let's stop this one at one."

"Yes, sir," JJ nodded.

"If you want to take some time to get situated, maybe start on the next case?" Hotch offers Rossi.

"I'm not back to get situated, Hotch, I'm here to work."

"Everybody get your things together. We're going to Texas."

Your team used the jet early in the morning since there wasn't any time to waste. Rossi is sitting all by his lonesome, away from everyone else. You know he is brand new, but he must have some social skills if he's ever worked here before. This man unnerves you, and you're having trouble figuring out why.

You leave the small bathroom after washing your hands and start to head back to your seat. You have to pass by Rossi to get there, and you look over at him to see what he could be doing. He is holding a small bracelet with three names on three different charms. Connie, Georgie, and Alicia.

He holds such passion and sadness for the three names, and those emotions reflect onto you, giving you flashes of images. Small children, blood everywhere, two dead parents. You can only imagine that Rossi was involved in a case with these three children, and maybe that's his reasoning why he came back to the BAU.

He has unfinished business.

Without talking to him about it, you walk back to your seat next to Spencer and grab his hand to hold.

"Let's go over victimology. Would you like to join us, Dave?" Rossi gets up without another word to join the group, and Hotch turns to your boyfriend. "Reid, what have you got?"

"Michelle Colucci was single, lived alone with no boyfriend and no ex-husband. There's nothing in the reports that suggested she was dating."

"She was an architect. Friends and co-workers say she's a classic workaholic. Basically a loner who rarely went out of the house. She's extremely low risk."

"If it wasn't someone she knew personally, it's possible she was being stalked."

"Interesting," Rossi mutters to himself.

"What's that?"

"I'm just thinking out loud."

"Something to add?" Hotch asks.

"No. Sorry to interrupt."

Rossi doesn't work well with others, you can tell. That will change in the future because if he wants help with his unfinished business or wants to keep his job in the Bureau, then he needs to learn how to work with others.

"Well, she's pretty," Derek states. "It could be that the unsub met her casually and made her part of some kind of fantasy. Maybe he tries to act on it, and she rejects him. Could be the stressor."

"So, he tortures her out of anger?"

"Masks often represent a state of mind. This one's blank--expressionless. Doesn't really coincide with anger," Spencer says.

"Reid, it's hard to imagine he did this out of anything less than rage."

Penelope's face pops up on the computer that is set up on the table for everyone to see.

"Hey, guys. I have a list of Michelle Colucci's clients. She designed office space. Mostly big corporate remodeling plans."

"No private clients, one-on-one contact?"

"Doesn't look like it, no."

"Thanks, baby girl," Derek says, and she nods once before hanging up the call.

Since you left Virginia so early, you got to Texas before nine am. The detective on the case is waiting for you at the crime scene. There is another missing person, two crime scenes. Your team is going to have to split into two, and you can only assume that you're going to be stuck with Rossi.

"Detective Yarbrough?" JJ says once you touch down.

"FBI? We got another flier--this time in Metro Dallas. Enid White. Her roommate called Dallas PD this morning. Enid never came home after walking her dog last night," Detective Yarbrough shows the flier he snagged.

"Wait, she's actually missing?" you ask.

"Well, he wallpapered the neighborhood with fliers for two blocks around her apartment."

"Outside? That's different. No one saw him putting them up?"

"Dallas PD is still canvassing, but nothing so far. They're waiting for you on the new scene."

"Morgan, you and Prentiss go to Michelle Colucci's house. JJ and I will talk to Enid's roommate. Dave, do you mind walking the disposal site with the detective, Reid, and Y/N?"

At the mention of your name, you can feel the hostility come from Rossi. He doesn't want you to be here, but you're going to prove to him that you're not a fake. You're the real deal, and he needs a chance to see that.

"Whatever you need," he says finally.

"We'll regroup in an hour."

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tentatechnologies · 2 years

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💍🤕⚡️ - ness!

meme link 🕺

💍 — Does your OC have a specific item that is priceless to them but may (or may not) be completely worthless to someone else? Is there a story behind this item or is it just because they like it so much?

He might appear to be the type, but most of his collectibles and items and whatnot don’t have a lot of personal meaning. He’s a rich kid; he’s used to the idea that things can be replaced with very little consequence, and that a lot of it’s just faff bought for the sake of showing off or spending money. He’s more likely to get sentimental over his parents’ things because of their presence in his childhood—the china in a cabinet he wasn’t allowed to touch, the decorations sat on the shelf behind his father’s desk, the gloves his mother used to wear at parties.

His keyring is one exception, or rather the keys he’s kept and continues to collect from places he isn’t supposed to—he’s got a few from his highschool, acquired from teachers and staff he ran errands for and that type of thing; a spare key for his parents’ house he made around the time he was an active agent, so he could come and go without their knowing; more than a few which Marlo’s duplicated for him; etc. It’s a little trophy of all the times he managed to make the world a little wider for himself and he’s very proud of it.

Also, he does very much have an I Want To Believe poster. He likes that a lot.

🤕 — What is the worst injury your OC has ever suffered? Do they have any scars or lasting physical reminders of it? Do they get sick often or have any lasting medical conditions?

Short answer: I don’t know. Long answer: this is something that got lost in translation due to Ness’ role in the story being reshuffled and him getting temporarily sidelined as a result.

Previously, when he was Agent 4, it was a big discoloration on his flank from the Octo Shower’s stingray. It healed better than Marlo’s ankle discolorations, but he couldn’t lay down on that side or lift his arm very high (and was an homage to ed e.lric getting impaled by a metal beam in the briggs arc). Since he’s no longer Agent 4, he never could’ve acquired that, but I also never decided if Rome should or not.

I do still really want him to fuck up his right arm though. I’ll figure that out someday.

For the last bit: he doesn’t get sick all that often, maybe once or twice a year; he’s young and has a long history in athletics, so he stays in good health without a lot of effort. In the mental health department, I’m wary of diagnosing my OCs outright for a few reasons, but Ness was made with moderate depression (lapsed for the most part) and ADHD (inattentive type) in mind; I’d forgotten to account for PTSD but I don’t think he made it out unscathed.

⚡ — What are your OC’s phobias? Is there any reasoning behind these? How do they calm themselves down after getting scared? What are they like when they’re afraid? Is there any chance of them overcoming their fears?

Cutting for length on this one ‘cause boy, that’s a dense question. None of his fears are severe enough to categorize as a phobia, but he’s got his fair share.

He’s had a fear of the dark since childhood, but it worsened significantly during his tenure as an agent. He literally emits light, for one, and theoretically should never be in complete darkness; if he is, something’s wrong, so it’s a reflex, a gut feeling. Moreover, he learned the hard way that things hide better in the dark, and ever since the campaign he hasn’t managed to shake the notion that something’s coming after him. He can’t relax in dark places; he’s kept a night-light for insurance ever since.

Another is, to some extent, a fear of being touched—he’ll back off if he thinks you’re making to, and doing so without consent and especially warning will agitate him. Although folks do get a mild shock from touching his bare skin—like static electricity—it isn’t that so much as it’s personal preference; touching him is an intimacy that he doesn’t lend to much of anyone. You especially don’t want to touch his fins, and touching the underside is a surefire way to send his guard through the ceiling and make him furious. It is also a surefire way to get electrocuted, so the only person to ever attempt it was Marlo.

It’s a boundary he will stretch, though—his roommate, and eventually Rome, who has a similar displeasure. In Marlo’s case it tends to vary with his mood; whether or not they respect that depends on their mood.

I’ll also mention that, although it won’t ever come up and Inkling reproduction doesn’t work like ours, he does get very uncomfortable around topics of childbirth and the like. His worst brush with that’d be having to deal with Marlo waxing poetic about having children someday, but it does exist.

Now, in terms of intangible fears: a lot of them snowball from his being a Gifted Kid. Failing, and failing to measure up, motivates him like none other. He equates his self-worth to the quality of his performance. Etc. Ness understands himself to be fundamentally different than everyone else—incompatible; in a way, unlovable. It doesn’t bother him—rather, it’s a cornerstone of his identity—but it creates a hesitation toward intimacy, which spills over into that fear of being touched, being vulnerable, letting someone into the truth of him. Failing to articulate himself, failing to be heard, failing to be understood.

Much of his exterior, like Marlo’s, is a construction, a performance. It’s designed to make him unremarkable. You aren’t going to question the uglier parts of him—he’s going to make you think he doesn’t have any. He’s an editor: he “redrafts” everything, including himself.

For all that, his demeanor doesn’t change much when he’s scared—he’ll get a little jumpy, a little snappy, more tangibly nervous, but for the most part it’s kept contained within himself. Best way I can describe it’s to point you in the direction of this old unfinished (and otherwise outdated) fic: how he’s afraid of pushing Marlo’s buttons and afraid of the answer, even timid about it, but still bites back when Marlo provokes him. He is ultimately the most courageous of my agents*; Marlo is downright foolish and Rome just doesn’t scare easily, but Ness will be frightened out of his mind and still try to move forward.

*Excepting Phee, but sie never considered hirself one.

He tends to calm down automatically once he’s out of the situation and back into his comfort zone, though—if he’s really shaken up about it, he’ll just take it slow until he’s up to snuff again. Watch his favorite videos, play chill video games, indulge in extra candy, cut himself a little extra slack. Get his mind off things. If he really can’t get it out of his head, he’ll talk to someone: if it isn’t agent-related, his mother or his roomie; but it tends to be, for which he goes to Marlo, and the outcome of that’s usually frustrating enough to exorcise it regardless.

All of these fears wax and wane, and most of them he can overcome in some capacity with personal development. Whether or not he’s interested in doing so is another matter.

#inbox #melon-official #oc ness #oc posting #1200 WORDS ......... WHATS WRONG W ME #enjoy your feast wtf

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og-danny-dorito · 2 years

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Too Big for your Ask Box

So, I've just recently started playing Fallout 4 VR. Bad move on my part, probably. I have an addictive personality being a recovered alcoholic and I'll literally spend HOURS in there in an unhealthy binge, probably terrible for my back. Anyway, long story longer, I've joined the Hancock Fangirl Bandwagon. I don't know where else to send my thoughts so here you go.

This actually happened: I went with Strong on a mission in order to sate his bloodlust and improve our relationship/affinity. I had Hancock wait at The Slog, after having built the place up with fortified, double-tall walls, a dozen turrets, a bar with a working juke box and pool table, and an upstairs bedroom with decor, tons of drugs and alcohol lying around, and two sets of power armor. (I had to leave my set at home since Strong hates it when I wear it.) Strong and I went down to Dunwich Borers and killed all the raiders that were supposedely bothering the people two towns over (one town farther than The Slog, which they were leaving untouched?) after which I had maximum affinity with Strong and at long last, the Berzerker bonus. By the time we got back it was full night. With the exception of my sentries, everyone was asleep. Where was Hancock? It weighed on me - I had heard rumors of him finding a way to off himself if dismissed by Sole, so when I didn’t find him sitting at the bar, in the upstairs bedroom, or in the sleeping barracks used by the rest of the resident Ghouls, I panicked just a little. Eventually I found him fast asleep in one of the small metal prefab rooms I had constructed off to the side with extra beds, pretty much sleeping by himself. I tried to “climb in bed” with him given we had full compatibility unlocked but the game stated I could not since the bed was occupied, and besides which Strong barged in a couple of times to offer me pieces of meat. I could have woken him up and then activated sleep, but I didn’t. It was raining and he just looked so peaceful. Even though there’s no breathing animation in the unmodded version of Fallout 4 VR I’m using (I’m just assuming, somewhere, there is a mod for that) I pretty much sat there and watched him sleep. Then, when he woke up at about 6 am (which I thought was pretty odd but whatever) I dismissed Strong and had Hancock follow me up to the room above the bar so I could get my sleep bonus. I’m imagining a situation where the game lets you just climb into bed with them - after all, don’t Ghouls get cold? I haven’t found any way to equip the beds with blankets, and any pillow I put on top of one always gets thrown off by morning. I think it would be nice. I also think it’s cute that Hancock is a side-sleeper like me. I suppose pretty much all of the NPCs are, I haven’t checked, but I still think it’s damn cute. Another situation I have brewing in my Imaginator is this: Sole is used to, or WAS used to, having a pretty comfortable life. I can imagine them coming up with a way to have a hot shower. It’s not that difficult mechanics-wise. I think it would be really frickin adorable if Sole invites Hancock to the pleasure of a steamy hot shower. Not to imply they think Hancock requires a deep scrubbing, if anything Sole would be most insistent that Hancock scrubs their back first. I’ve been intimate with people in the shower many times and it’s just a nice bonding experience. Afterward they’d dry off with whatever they can use for a towel, or maybe just tumble into bed at that point for the next round. Final thought, or question - is it possible for skinless lips to whistle? I was walking to the store today and whistling, over and over, Billie Holiday’s “Easy Living” and I can imagine Hancock, if he can’t whistle, being at least a little jealous if Sole can do so..

Anyway, thanks if you got through all of that. I don't know what else to do with it. Too long for a suggestion, but probably too garbled for an actual submission. I diagnosed one of my favorite patients (surprisingly, a chihuahua) with Stage 4 B Cell Leukemia this weekend and my recently adopted older cat has kidney stones/kidney disease, with a life expectancy of a few years at most currently. Right now it's easier to just slip into a different reality.

---

thank you for much for your submission!! i actually like, REALLY enjoyed reading this and im so happy that youre becoming a fellow Hancock Simp. im so sorry about your cats though, i know how it feels to have to watch them deteriorate and come to terms with it and it like, really fucking sucks. it might not help much, but im gonna whip up some headcanons for you as soon as i can so you might be able to escape for a little and destress. if you ever need to talk please feel free to dm me and ill get to you as soon as i possibly can! but on your question i looked it up, and for hancock to be able to whistle he'd have to use his tongue. i still think he does though!! i feel like he likes to hear the sole survivor sing/whistle too, reminds him of the good parts of being a drifter back when things felt a lot more simple.

#submissions #john hancock #hancock imagine #hancock headcanons #hancock x sole survivor #sole survivor #fallout 4 #fallout 4 headcanons #fallout 4 imagine

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spideykaiparker · 3 years

Text

Misleading Folders

Peter Parker x Avenger!reader

warning(s) : slight smut, fluff

summary : you like to record peter being cute, one day while you were recording him, he decided to... spice things up a little bit. flash forward to next week, the avengers finds a folder on your phone curiously going through it, leading to them finding a video that made them regret ever being curious.

author's note : I'm not confident about this:/ english is not my first language, sorry if there's any grammar or spelling mistakes.

happy reading ^_^

school was exhausting. you and peter had just gotten back from school, and now both of you were hanging out in his room in the avengers compound. right after you arrived at his room, you immediately throw yourself on the bed, glad that school was over for the day.

"ugh.. your bed is so comfortable, why isn't mine like this?" you groaned out, jealous by the comfort of peter's bed.

"um.. i think all of the beds here are the same, maybe you feel that way because it has my scent?" peter suggested with a shrug.

"hm, maybe, guess I'm just going to sleep here then"

"oh please, you already sleep here all the time, you basically already moved into my room" peter said, rolling his eyes, but the smile on his face indicates that he's not at all annoyed with you.

it's true, you stay in his room all the time, except when peter's not there at the moment, you hang out in your room.

you sat up against the headboard, playing with your phone, crossing your legs. while peter laid down horizontally on the edge of the bed, reading a book.

you both sat there for about 10 minutes, until you opened your legs, with your knees bent, and saw peter, reading his book, with his hands up holding the book, his lips caught between his teeth as he read the book with utter concentration.

you opened your camera app, recording him, because you think he looked cute, you take videos of him acting cute all the time, hell, you even have a folder for the videos.

"peter" you called, smiling

"yeah?" he looked to the side, to find you recording him, a smile of his own immediately morphing on his face.

"hi"

"hi" he answered with a slight laugh.

"what are you reading?"

"i don't know, just this book i found in the library, its kinda interesting"

suddenly, an idea popped up in his head. looking at you from in between your legs, with you recording him, made him think of several different things.

he slightly reached up and grabbed your shorts, pulling it down your legs with your underwear also coming off.

"wha—" you start, shocked by his sudden action.

"relax, we don't have to do anything, just keep talking, don't mind me" he cuts. his fingers slowly going up and down your slit, going up to your sensitive bud, circling two of his fingers on it.

"did me recording you, made you horny?" you asked, slightly amused.

"well partly, it's mostly because I've been thinking about you all day, wearing that short shorts of yours, and looking at you from between your legs also is one the reason" he simply replied.

"awee, you're wet already? you like it too don't you? you like recording me playing with your pretty pussy, huh?" he murmured.

his fingers came down to your slit, collecting the wetness that has gathered down there, then made its way back up to circle around the sensitive bud once again, but this time sliding much easier with your wetness.

your moans got louder as he pushed two of his fingers into your heat. he slowly thrusted his fingers inside of you, gradually getting faster with each thrust. his thumb going up to rub your abandoned clit.

"you like that?" he asks, smirking to the camera.

"a-ah... yes"

suddenly he pushed himself upwards towards you, burying his face between your thighs, planting his lips on your swollen bud, fingers still thrusting roughly inside of you while his free arm wraps around one of your thigh.

shocked by his actions, you dropped your phone on the bed facing upwards, the phone still recording, but can't see any of the actions happening.

"ah!— peter!" throwing your head back, you buried one of your hand in his curls, while the other gripped the sheets.

your hips bucking up to his face, so much that he has to grip your hips to stay put. you kept thrashing around, moaning louder and louder as time passes by.

his tongue plunges itself inside of you alongside of his fingers, thrusting at a harsh pace. his fingers sometimes coming up to play with your clit.

you could feel your orgasm coming soon, your stomach tightens, heat building up, you clench around his fingers, signaling him that you're close.

"ah— i'm cumming" you helplessly moaned out, your grip on his hair tightening.

"cum for me, baby" he groaned out, in between of his actions.

and with that you let go, gripping his hair tightly, throwing your head back, moaning out loud, couldn't care less about the possibility of people being able to hear you.

peter continues to lap up your heat, helping you through your orgasm, your body convulsing because of his actions.

when you were done, peter moved upwards, hovering over you with a smile on his face. his hands coming up to gently push away the hair that was sticking to your face due to the sweat.

looking up through your lashes, you pushed yourself up, hands coming around the back of his neck, pulling him down slightly to connect both of your lips.

his lips mold perfectly against yours, kissing you at a slow pace, pouring all of his emotions through the kiss.

suddenly you remembered something, "the camera" you said, pulling away from him. you reached out your hands, searching for your phone, eventually finding it, you pointed it towards peter.

"say byee~"

"byee~" he said while shaking his head, laughing. you ended the recording, putting your phone on the bedside table, then slowly reaching out for peter once again, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"c'mon let's go shower" he said, pulling away from you, sitting on his knees.

"but you're still hard" you pointed out, reaching your hand to cup his hard on, to which he moaned to.

"you can help me in the shower" he suggested, smirking at you.

"fine..." you replied, rolling your eyes, but your lips curved up to a smile.

pulling you up from the bed, he lead you to the bathroom to continue your activities earlier.

the week goes by, the avengers were going to have a movie night. now you were just preparing everything because it was your turn to pick the movie.

everyone was just lounging around on the couches in the common room, when suddenly Tony remembered something.

"hey Y/N can you send me the pictures we took yesterday?" he asked, slightly throwing his head back on the couch to look at you who was preparing the popcorns.

"yeah sure, here's my phone," you gave him your phone which was in your pocket, opening it beforehand so that he could use it, "you can send it yourself" you said absentmindedly, not really thinking about it too much.

grabbing the phone, he searches through your gallery, coming upon a folder labeled petey♡. curious, he opened the folder, seeing a bunch of pictures and videos of you and peter.

smiling, he opened the most recent video, it was a video of you and peter walking down the street, with peter's arm around your neck, holding you close, and your face slightly smushed into his chest, one of your arm holding on to the arm that was wrapped around your neck and the other wrapped around his waist, while you both kept walking. you were both laughing in the video looking completely in love.

while Tony was watching the video, the other members were slightly curious to what Tony was watching, one by one, they gathered around him peering into the phone, also watching the video. they all awed when they saw what Tony was watching, they thought that you two looked absolutely cute together, that you were meant to be. well maybe except sam and bucky, but even they had to admit, you two were disgustingly cute.

when the video ended, Tony slides to the next video, which was a video of you and peter cuddling on his bed, peter was half asleep while you were awake, with peter basically laying on top of you, resting his head on your chest, facing the camera, one of your arm wrapped around his neck while the other was outstretched, holding your phone, recording you both.

"c'mon peter, we gotta wake up" you said smiling, slightly shaking him.

"mm..5 more minutes.." he groggily answered, nuzzling his face into your chest.

"you said that 10 minutes ago" you deadpanned, rolling your eyes, but the smile was still etched on your face.

"mm.."

"i have a class at 9, pete" you sighed.

"don't go.." he whined back, slowly gaining consciousness.

"i have to, pete"

"no you don't have to, you can just stay here and cuddle with me" he murmured, a pout forming on his lips, tightening his hold on you as if he's afraid you're going to leave him.

"i promise I'll go straight home as soon as my classes are over" you explained, slowly pushing away from him, to which he whined, drawing you back.

"no~" he whined, when you finally got out of his grip, turning onto his back.

"I'll be back as soon as possible, okay?" you kissed his forehead. and with that the video ended.

the avengers cooed as they watched the soft moment, they all agreed that you guys were soulmates, completely in love with each other, being each others other half. it's funny seeing peter being so clingy with you, because usually peter was shy little bean with the avengers, though he opened up more little by little but not as much as he is with you.

tony swipes to the next item, it was a picture of the both of you sleeping on the couch while cuddling, you were laying your head on peter's chest, your arms wrapped around his torso, his arms wrapped securely around your waist while both of your legs tangled below, a blanket covering the both of you.

the picture was taken by MJ, when you were supposed to have a sleepover with Ned and MJ, but ended up sleeping halfway through the movie. the next morning MJ showed you the picture, you told MJ to send it to you, to add to your collection of cute moments.

once again, they all awed at the picture, you both looked content with each other, holding onto each other like you're both afraid one of you is going to disappear.

then Tony swipes to the next item, it was the video from last week, when peter decided to... spice it up a little. at first, the video looked normal, you were just recording peter, who was reading, from between your legs because that's where you can see his face.

"peter" you called out from the video.

"yeah?" he looked to the side, a smile immediately morphing on his lips when he saw that you were recording him while smiling.

"hi"

"hi" he answered with a slight laugh, smiling widely.

"what are you reading?"

"i don't know, just this book i found in the library, its kinda interesting"

then peter had this... look on his face, suddenly he reached up, grabbing your shorts, pulling it down with your underwear.

"WOAH" nearly all of them screamed

"wha—" you said from the video

almost immediately, Tony slammed the phone face down his lap, the video still playing, so they could hear what's happening in the video.

"relax, we don't have to do anything, just keep talking, don't mind me" peter's slightly deeper voice ranged out.

the avengers were— to say the least, very surprised, they looked at each other with shock clearly written on their faces. they didn't think that the shy innocent looking peter would turned out to be very dirty.

they weren't paying much attention now, too shocked by the new piece of information. their attention snapped back to the video when they heard peter again.

"awee, you're wet already? you like it too don't you? you like recording me playing with your pretty pussy, huh?" they heard him murmur.

they couldn't believe it, peter parker, the guy who blushes at just a mention of a kiss, the guy who gets shy with even the slightest display of affection with you, is actually really dirty.

you started to let out quiet moans, gradually getting louder, the sounds of his slick finger playing with your heat, getting louder and louder.

"—oh my god, turn it off!"

immediately Tony flipped the phone to turn off the video, getting a glimpse of peter moving to bury his face in your heat.

"ah!— peter!" then he immediately turned off the video.

when the video was finally turned off, they all looked at each other with wide eyes, choosing to not say anything to each other for a while to avoid making it even more awkward.

"um... should we talk to them?"

"ew, why?" sam said with disgust, wishing to burn the image of you and peter from his mind.

"i think we should" natasha spoke up.

"yeah, i think so too, i mean, we didn't even know they were sexually active until now, we should at least tell them to be safe" steve said with his arms crossed, looking at everyone.

"yeah okay, at least i can tease him with it now" bucky said with a cheeky smirk.

"well that's settled, let's wait 'til they get back from getting the popcorns" rhodey suggested.

not long after that... incident, you and peter came back from the kitchen bringing 4 bowls of popcorn, handing it to the other members on the couch.

"alright, now I've decided that we will watch—" you started but got cut off by Tony.

"wait, actually we have something we want to talk to you about" he holds up his hand, cutting you off. "both of you"

"okay..." you and peter slowly sat down on the couch, looking warily to each other.

"what's wrong?" you asked, concerned.

"well, you know how i was going to send the pictures from yesterday from your phone?" Tony starts.

"yeah..."

"well i happened to stumble upon an interesting folder" you froze, your eyes widening almost immediately when you heard him.

"yeah..." you let out with a nervous chuckle.

now peter was confused, what were you talking about? why did you suddenly froze? is there something in that fol— his eyes widened, suddenly remembering the video you took last week, his cheeks redden from his thoughts.

"well we found an interesting video there"

"wait— we?" you sputter out. wishing to bury yourself in the ground so you don't have to face this.

"yes we, at first we thought that it was just videos of you guys being cute, but then..." he trailed off.

you both are frozen now, too embarrassed to do anything. already knowing which video he's talking about.

"judging by your reactions, i assume you both already know what video I'm talking about"

"yeah..." you both meekly answered.

"i mean I'm not judging, you guys can do whatever you want, but i just have one question"

"what is it?" peter asked weakly.

"are you guys being safe?"

"oh my god! of course! okay, first of all, i don't want to have this talk with you guys, okay? we already got it from aunt may, we don't need it from you guys, and besides, we're both 19, we know what to do, you don't have to worry okay? we're being safe. and second of all, why would you go through my folders! i just told you to send the pictures from yesterday" you answered, still embarrassed.

"we were curious okay? you guys are so cute together" wanda answered.

"but still!—" you start but got cut off by Tony

"—okay okay! we're not going to give you the talk, you guys are old enough already, plus it's kind of weird giving you the talk, and we're sorry for going through your folders" Tony shuddered just by thinking about it.

"but peter, i didn't know you were wild, man" sam teased with a smirk on his face.

"ugh.. shut up" peter answered, hiding his face behind your shoulder.

"no, but seriously though, we thought you were just an innocent little bean, but little did we know..." bucky trailed off, a smirk also evident on his face.

"stoooop" he's hiding his entire body behind you now. you laughed, bringing him from behind you, wrapping your arms around him, his face buried in your neck.

"great! now that that's settled, can we continue movie night now?" rhodey spoke up.

you all agreed, turning on the movie of your choice, then each of you settling in comfortable positions.

you obviously cuddled with peter, a blanket draped over both of you, your head resting on his chest, arms wrapped around him tightly, peter's arm wrapped around your shoulder.

halfway through the movie, you saw that peter was slightly dozing off, so you decided to head up with peter.

"hey, we're heading up first okay? —c'mon pete" you said while pulling him up.

"use protection!" bucky shouted from the couch as you and peter went down the hallway.

"shut up!" you grumbled back.

the rest of the team just laughed then continued watching the movie while you and peter continued your way to his room.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #peter parker #tom holland #spider man #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter x reader #tom x reader

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whythinktoomuch · 3 years

Text

ii. apocalypse now & again

(pt. i)

Kara woke up and realized that she was going to die.

Too many of the drones had survived the explosions and were still closing in on her. What little strength she had left after quite literally digging her own grave was presently and painstakingly strained just from her efforts to climb onto her knees. And on top of all that—of everything that possibly could have gone wrong for her in this moment—her helmet was cracked.

The abstract red numbers warning Kara of the kryptonite levels in the area seemed redundant now, what with that unmistakable chill already flooding her bloodstream.

“… Alex,” Kara gasped out, barely able to hear herself over the ringing in her ears. “Hey, Alex… Are you there?”

Her words were met with not one whisper or even a crackle of static, and for once, Kara was inconsolably disappointed to hear no one yelling back at her. With her teeth gritted, she shoved herself off the ground as hard as she could, drifting barely a foot into the air before the first drone crashed into the back of her head.

Kara toppled back onto the ground, knees skidding across the rubble in a shower of hot sparks. The impact had her head reeling, her mouth filling with a taste that she was now idly recognizing as blood. But there was no time to consider any of that as the drone doubled back. Kara scrambled out of the way, narrowly avoiding another collision, only to be struck by a second drone smashing right against her ear.

Out of breath but swearing, Kara whirled around and snagged the fast approaching drone into a bear hug, squeezing and squeezing until it crunched in her arms with a frantic whir. Then with a burst of heat vision, she shattered the other as it came straight for her face.

Kara used her heat vision to pick off several more drones from a distance, but of course, more and more just showed up to take their place, never wavering, never slowing… and eventually, Kara just had to laugh. Because her exhaustion was catching up to her. And Alex was hundreds of miles away. And to get out of here alive, Kara would have to somehow defeat the entire horde of drones, while all they had to do was wreck her suit a little more.

Though admittedly, it’d be overkill at this point, given the crack now spiderwebbing across the glass visor of Kara’s helmet.

Either way, it was over.

So, Kara laughed, grabbed at her chest in a reflexive gesture only to meet the unforgiving metal of her suit, then dropped to her knees. “Alex!” she shouted herself hoarse, because maybe if said loudly enough, the words would still be lingering in the air by the time her sister arrived. “Alex, I’m sorry, okay? You were right, and I’m sorry!”

Then she just waited—chest heaving, eyes narrowed but never blinking despite the heat pricking at the corners—because she definitely had to see this through to the bitter fucking end. That much, she owed everyone, including herself.

Except the end didn’t come.

Not this time anyway.

No, instead came a silver sphere, emerging seemingly out of thin air to hover right before Kara’s face. It flashed a blinding white just once, and everything fell absolutely silent and still. Kara’s suit powered down completely, the drones collectively dropped from the air like marionettes with cut strings, and all the lights in the immediate vicinity blinked out.

Laughter welling up all over again, Kara could only collapse onto her side in something akin to sheer relief.

The first person to occur to her, of course, was Alex, who had already saved her ass from similar scrapes on many occasions. But that couldn’t be it. Alex was too far away. It’s why Kara had to take on this mission on her own in the first place.

Then she considered maybe Winn or James, which made even less sense, given how the deceased hardly ever came back to do things like save people’s lives. Not even hers. Not even in the most dire of situations. That’s, unfortunately, just not how life worked these days.

Then she considered Alex again because the kryptonite was clearly bleeding into her brain now, and it was getting rather difficult to remember why it couldn’t have been Alex who’d just saved her. Maybe Kara did shout loud enough after all…

But then, a set of footfalls drew near, metal scraping against metal at a steady pace until a heavy boot struck Kara firmly in the chest, flipping her onto her back where she settled with a grunt.

“So glad I got to you first,” came a self-assured drawl, and Kara promptly found herself face to face with a handheld cannon of sorts. “Would be a pity to come all this way and not get to kill you myself.”

And… Kara’s jaw just dropped.

Not because of the words, nor the intentions behind them—though perhaps they both merited some attention as well—but that voice.

Kara gaped up at her supposed knight in shining, lead-lined armor because her voice—that low, husky tone paired with that very specific lilting cadence—was making her reconsider some very fundamental things about how the world might work.

Namely, that people wouldn’t come back from the dead just to save her life.

Mind still reeling away, Kara tried to sit up, only to be slammed back into the ground, hard.

“Down, girl,” Lena said, grinding her boot into Kara’s chest, the weight of her entire body behind the gesture. But that was fine.

It was fine because Kara could still draw some breath into her lungs, could still use some of that breath to talk, and she could certainly still say some things that she hadn’t uttered aloud in many a year. Like her late wife’s name, for instance.

The cannon in Kara’s face wavered, but didn’t lower. “Shut up,” Lena hissed down at her. “Don’t talk. Don’t even think.”

“So… it is you…” Kara said, and she gently wrapped her fingers around Lena’s ankle—the only part of her that she could still reach from her position—and just cried.

With a startled gasp, Lena stumbled away, wrenching herself out of Kara’s grip. “What the fuck…? What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Kara sobbed out, trying not to choke on her own tears and snot and the slight taste of blood still lingering on her tongue. She suddenly, irrationally, wished that she could just take off her clunky suit. Just to eliminate some of that distance between her and Lena. Just so she could touch the chain hanging around her neck without any hindrance. “Just… just wanted to say, hi.”

Lena kept her distance, studying Kara in a stony silence, and Kara started to see things that she should probably would have noticed sooner if her body weren’t actively shutting down on her. Like the green glow of Lena’s weapon and the kryptonite cartridges strapped to her belt. Or that she was clearly wearing a lexo-suit. Or how the swirly edges of her own vision were starting to darken, and how the chill of kryptonite was currently all she could feel.

“Hey,” Kara called out, sniffling only slightly now. “Am I dreaming?”

“… No.”

Kara nodded thoughtfully to herself. “Okay, cool, cool… So, I think I might be dying then.”

“Yeah,” Lena said, after a brief pause. “Probably.”

“Cool.” Kara tried to flash a thumbs up, but no part of her body wanted to cooperate anymore. Her exhaustion had eaten up all her drive. “Hey, can you tell Alex something for me?”

Lena sighed, but she finally stepped closer, practically in reach. “Okay, sure.”

Kara fumbled for some words and the correct order that one might put them in, but then Lena took off her helmet, and nothing else mattered anymore. Because Kara was perfectly content to just watch that ripple of dark hair, streaked with a light gray that was just… nice to look at.

She never got to see her Lena’s hair do that.

Kara’s shoulder was being shaken so violently that she had no choice but to open her eyes and see Alex’s worry-creased face peering down at her.

“Dumbass…” Alex grumbled, releasing Kara’s shoulder with a dirty scowl. “That’s the last time I let you go anywhere without me.”

“Whatever you say, director.” Kara laughed, but it hurt. She then tried to do a salute, but her everything was still too weak to move apparently. But at least she was still alive.

… Wait.

Kara repeatedly tried to sit up on her bed, and Alex repeatedly shoved her right back down until she gave up. But still, she had to check, had to know that it wasn’t all just a dream.

“Where’s Lena?” she demanded, and the look that Alex gave her in response was so deeply pained that Kara almost felt pathetic for asking.

“… Kara.”

“No, I saw her, Alex,” Kara said, shaking her head, then immediately stopping when her entire body somehow got dizzy from it. “Shit. Ow, ow… But wait, no—But seriously, I saw her, okay?”

“I’m not surprised that you did. You almost died, Kara. Actually, I’m pretty sure that you were dead for a few minutes back there. Again, I say, you fucking dumbass.”

“But I didn’t die. Because she saved me,” Kara insisted. “No, seriously! She took out all the drones with some sort of EMP device, and, and… we talked! And she had gray hair, and I think maybe laugh lines? And yeah, I almost died because my helmet got cracked and stuff. But now, I’m here and I’m fine, so… everything’s fine, right?”

Alex frowned, then somehow settled on the least important part of Kara’s briefing, “You cracked your helmet?”

“Ugh, yeah. The glass visor part. When I fell,” Kara said, waving her hand dismissively. “So sorry about that, by the way.”

“Suit looked fine when we got to you,” Alex said with a shrug, before irritably exclaiming, “Jesus christ, Kara, enough! I’ll just have a guy get the helmet for you, okay? So, just stop trying to get up already.”

Huffing, Kara fell back onto her bed with her arms folded and waited. But when someone eventually showed up with her helmet in tow, she was surprised to see that it was somewhat worse for the wear but perfectly intact. Even up close, with the helmet out the tech’s hands and in her own, Kara couldn’t detect even the slightest blemish in the glass.

Pouting ever so slightly, Kara shoved the helmet back into the tech’s arms.

“… Satisfied?” Alex asked, rolling her eyes when Kara just shrugged one shoulder. “Great. Listen… You just need to get some rest, okay? Once you’re back to full strength, we can work through your… you know, memories together. And hopefully, it’ll make more sense by then. Sound good?”

Kara just nodded, suddenly all too willing to be left to her own devices in the relative quiet and darkness. She accepted a gentle shoulder squeeze and the promise of another session with the sun lamps within the hour, and just curled up under the sheets.

It’s not like she hadn’t conjured up images of Lena before. Kara had been close to death enough times that it was only inevitable that she’d fall back onto memories of her dead wife at some point or another. But this was different. Whenever her brain was just playing tricks on her, Lena appeared to her the way Kara remembered her: warm and loving, bright green eyes, long dark hair smelling of lavender, and alive and young.

Never before had Kara encountered an appropriately aged version of Lena, with creases gathered around her eyes and forehead, hair gloriously faded into the most lovely blend of light grays and white amongst all that black… The Lena that could have been if only she had lived out all these past years alongside Kara.

And she was never in a lexo-suit, of all things. Lena was always wearing one of her classic pencil skirts or Kara’s NCU sweatshirt, or something. Oh, and of course, her wedding band.

Instinctively, the same way she always did when it occurred to her, Kara reached for the chain around her neck, seeking out the familiar weight of the rings that hung from there… only to jolt upright with a gasp that dried up her entire throat.

She ripped the necklace off her head, almost snapping the chain, which in and of itself was telling. Because her chain had been forged out of an extraterrestrial metal amalgamation that not even the Girl of Steel would have been able to break. The one now clutched in her hand, however, was just plain white gold.

Heart pounding in her ears, Kara stared down at an engagement ring fitted with a modest cut of diamond, somehow occupying the very spot where two simple wedding bands—hers and her Lena’s—should have been. Then something drove her to check for an inscription, and sure enough, engraved on the inside of the ring was a series of kryptonian characters, denoting a term of endearment that Kara had never used, but apparently could have in another world altogether: my dearest heart.

#2222 words because that's how i get my kicks n' giggles hue hue hue hue #will there be a part three? who knows #better question is Should there be a part three amirite?#my words.

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sunmoonandeddie · 3 years

Text

who you are and who you’ve been

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 8,490

summary: Sometimes love takes a little longer to find you.

warnings: SMUT. Mention of past abusive relationship, drinking, swearing.

a/n: Thank you so much to @zeilenkrieg for commissioning this and being so patient while I wrote it!!

“Mama! Mama! You here?”

You sighed as you looked up from your coffee, seeing your daughter coming through the living room. She had on that pair of daisy dukes that she stole from your wardrobe—the ones you used to wear in the heat of summer, a white shirt tied to let the sun on your tummy. You used to scandalize your own mama with that outfit…

You had argued with her that she had worn the same kind of outfit back in the seventies, and that vintage was in. But she liked to wear hers with cowboy boots and you preferred it with a good pair of sneakers.

God, you missed being young… Your twenties had been absolutely wild, even if they had started out with that horrible pandemic in 2020.

You still washed your hands after touching almost anything. An instinct that never went away.

That year and the couple years before had been… insane. But at least it incited real change in the world. The people had learned from their mistakes, at least for now.

History did have a habit of repeating itself. Humans were fickle, forgetful creatures like that.

“Yes, honey bun?” You said as you stood up, moving to hug her.

At thirty-seven years old, she was the only good thing that ever came out of your marriage. That, and knowing how to wash blood out of clothing.

The only problem was that by the time you’d finally left him, you had no friends left. You were in your forties by then, with no family besides your daughter, and no friends left to speak of. You hadn’t even had Facebook at the time to keep in touch with old schoolmates from university. And by then, what was the point? They were all leading completely different lives and probably hadn’t spared you a thought in at least a decade.

“When’s the last time you left the house?” She asked, her hands on her hips in a stance that reminded you so much of yourself that it scared you.

Now that… that was hard to answer… You honestly didn’t think you’d be able to remember. You got practically everything delivered, you worked from home…

Shaking your thoughts away, you shot her a look. “I’m fine right where I am.”

“Your doctor called and said you haven’t been taking your medication.”

“Fuckin’ snitch,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you turned back to the window, staring down at the now cold coffee.

Josephine rolled her eyes. “He said you haven’t picked up your refill in over two months.” She came over to stand next to you, staring out the window with you for a long time. “Mama, you’ve gotta take your medicine… You remember what happened last time…”

Ah, yes, the infamous incident.

Which was an incident in a long line of incidents.

There had been a… few times when you’d stopped taking your medication—either intentionally or simply because you had forgotten—and it had resulted in a stay in the psych ward at the local hospital. It had happened far too many times for your daughter to not be in contact with your doctor so she would be informed if you had stopped getting your refills.

You didn’t blame her, of course. But it did make you feel like a horrible mother. One who couldn’t even take care of herself to the point where your daughter had to.

“Yes, I remember last time,” you sighed, staring at a cardinal. “You know, my mama used to tell me that if you see a cardinal, a loved one who’s passed is visiting you…”

“Mama, I signed you up for a seniors’ social club.”

You blinked.

And then, you blinked again.

You turned to look at your daughter, disbelief written all over your face. “No the fuck you did not. I swear to all that is holy, Josephine Ann, if you signed me up for one of those… those… pre-death support groups, I’ll tan your hide!” You gasped as some of your coffee splashed onto your sweatshirt. “I brought you into this world, and I sure as hell can take you out of it!”

“You’ve been saying that since I was two,” She said, taking your arm and guiding you to sit down at the kitchen table. “And it’s not a pre-death support group. I feel like that’s offensive somewhere so make sure you don’t go running around the group saying that.” Josephine used a paper napkin to dab at the coffee on your sweatshirt, muttering about throwing it into the wash and getting you a new one.

This was what you meant by your daughter taking care of you.

“Josie, really, I can get my own sweatshirt.”

“Doesn’t mean you gotta,” she said as she came back with a new one, helping you change.

Sometimes you felt like she thought you were a hundred years old.

“Honestly, mama… I just want you to be happy… You should have friends. You shouldn’t be cooped up in this house all day, all the time.”

“What do I need friends for when I’ve got you? And Danny?” You asked.

But you had been hit with the sudden reality that except for Josephine and her girlfriend, you were alone. Completely, and utterly, alone. Hell, they were the only people you had ever invited over to the tiny one bedroom you owned.

Repairmen didn’t count because they were there to do a job, not keep you company.

God, you had wanted more than this, once upon a time. You had once had dreams, of maybe being a writer and making the New York Times’ Bestsellers List, of a husband who adored you and brought you flowers every Friday, of lazy Sundays eating waffles on the couch with the love of your life.

But life didn’t end up the way you had dreamed it. There were no book signings or meetings with editors… there were no gardenias… and there was no smell of waffles and syrup.

And you’d made your peace with that.

Sort of.

Josephine’s arms wrapped around you as she rested her head against yours. Like a mirror of yourself, she was, from her face down to her toes.

Thank god. She didn’t deserve to have to look in the mirror and see reflections of her father.

“Will you at least try it?” She asked gently, her hand running up and down your arm, her freshly manicured nails tickling your skin. “It’s not like a pre-death support group, as you call it… It’s for seniors or people who are approaching seniority and are still active and want to go out and have fun, but maybe need some friends to do it with. Please?”

And how could you say no when she wanted something so badly?

“Alright,” you said after a moment. “I’ll go once. And if it’s horrible, I’m not going back. And I’m gonna tell Danny how you forced me to meet a bunch of strangers.”

She squealed excitedly, running off to your bedroom and going through your closet. “Okay, the first thing the group is doing is having a first meeting at a bar, and we’re gonna get you all done up.”

Oh, good. She was going all in.

“When’s the first meeting?” You asked as you sat on the bed, leaning back on your hands as you watched her.

“Tonight.”

Uh. What?

“TONIGHT?!” You shouted in shock as you jumped up. “What?! You didn’t think to ask me about this a few days ago?!”

She snorted, picking out a few tops that you hadn’t worn in what felt like decades. “I signed you up this morning, I didn’t know about it a few days ago.”

You watched in exasperation as she threw article after article of clothing onto the bed for you to try on. “I don’t think I need to wear four pairs of jeans to a bar,” you said, beginning to pick up a few of the pieces.

Josephine gave you a look as she continued. “Considering how long it’s been since you’ve been out, I think it’s fair that some of these might not fit anymore.”

Well, you had lost some weight… Not necessarily in a healthy way, but she was right.

In the end, she ended up shoving you into the bathroom and forced you to do a full shower—which meant body and hair.

You hadn’t even gone to such lengths when you were going on your first date with her father.

She spent hours on your hair and makeup, chattering away excitedly about the vacation her and Danny were planning. A South American cruise.

Josephine had never married, never had kids. Never wanted to after seeing what her daddy had put you through. It left a sour taste in her mouth, and even though it was legal now, her and her girlfriend hadn’t breathed a word of a wedding.

Though, you suppose they had a common law marriage at that point, if lesbians were included in it.

“Perfect,” she said as she got you to slip on an old jacket of yours that was a little too big. “Come on. I’ll drive you and pick you up.”

“Oh, honestly,” you snorted as you grabbed the purse Josephine had shoved all your things into. “You’d think I could take an Uber.”

The bar wasn’t what you had expected when she had first told you that’s where the meeting was going to be held. The last bars you’d been to had practically been nightclubs.

But this was… upscale. Sophisticated.

Now you understood just why she had put so much work into making you look presentable.

It didn’t look like anyone else was there yet, even though most of the patrons were around your age, so you took a seat at the bar, the group’s site pulled up on your phone.

“What can I get for you, miss?” The bartender asked as he set down a coaster in front of you.

A snort erupts from your throat as you look at him. “You always call women as old as me miss?”

“Oh, come on, you’re a catch,” he said, shooting you a playful wink. “My dad’s single, you know. If you were… looking.”

“Thank you, but I’m not,” you said gently, your cheeks flushed. “Can I get a Manhattan?”

The bartender nodded, gracefully backing off the subject of you possibly dating his father. And barely a minute and a half later, there’s a perfectly made Manhattan set on your coaster.

You’d barely taken a sip before someone came up beside you. “Do you have Macallan’s 18 Year Sherry Oak?” A man asked. At the bartenders confirmation, he hummed. “Can I get a double on the rocks?”

The bartender dropped a large ball of ice into a glass before pouring two shots of whiskey over it and handing it to the man.

“Macallan’s, huh?” You said softly, your heart pounding. Josephine had told you to make friends. That was the whole point of this, even if the man wasn’t part of the social club you’d been forced into. “You know your whiskeys.”

The tall man took a seat beside you, his eyes boring into the side of your face. You hadn’t dared look at him yet. “I’ve always preferred those who choose a Manhattan over a martini any day.”

“And why is that?” You asked, finally looking up at him.

And oh, you wished you hadn’t. He was… stunning. The very definition of male beauty. His salt and pepper hair reminded you of the photos of the men in the forties… The 1940s, that is. Blue eyes so striking that you lost your breath, and broad shoulders that you knew would haunt your dreams. He was wearing a glove on his left hand for some reason, but you didn’t linger on it too long.

But at least he was at least your age, if not a little older. You’d die if you’d just sort of flirted with a twenty-something asshole who just bought expensive whiskeys for the sake of buying expensive whiskeys to show that he had money to blow.

“Martini drinkers think they’ll get some kind of award for their choice of drink,” he said, “as though choosing a drink that generally tastes like shit is some kind of accomplishment. Unless you’re just taking a shot, a drink should taste good.” He looked you up and down, letting his pretty blues linger on your lips. There were faint crow feet at the corners of his eyes, but they just seemed to make him even more handsome. “And a Manhattan doesn’t need a fancy whiskey. It is steady and sure even with the cheapest five dollar bottle you can get from a gas station. Someone whose drink of choice is a Manhattan is sure of who they are and what they want.”

You hadn’t felt this hot under a man’s gaze in decades. “Really?” Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you took another sip of your drink to buy you a moment.

“Mmm…” He stole one of the two cherries from your drink, biting it off the stem. You were transfixed as he slipped the stem into his mouth, sticking his tongue out about thirty seconds later with a perfect cherry stem knot on display. “Really. I’m James. What’s your name?”

Butterflies filled your stomach as you gave him your name. God, you felt like you were sixteen again and being flirted with for the first time.

His eyes flicked down to your open phone that rested on the bar, the social club’s page still up. “You’re here for the meeting, too?”

“Um… Yes,” you said, ducking your head.

“But, doll…” He leaned towards you, a charming smile on his lips. “You don’t look a day over thirty-five. Are you sure you’re a senior?”

Blinking, your mouth hung open in a soft o. “Are you planning on flirting with every woman in the club like this?”

James looked around dramatically, his gloved hand resting over his heart. “A club?! Is that what you call this place?” He asked, mockingly serious. “Damn, what does that make all those dirty, gross places these young kids go to now? Brothels?”

For some reason, you felt comfortable enough to shove his shoulder, surprised a little at the feeling of metal under his jacket sleeve.

For the first time, he looked a bit… uncomfortable. He had flinched a bit, his bright eyes focused surely on his drink. “Um…”

“You’re the Winter Soldier. James Barnes,” you said curiously, your head tilting to the side as you looked at him. “I thought I recognized you from somewhere.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Mmhm,” you drawled, taking the cherry left in your drink and biting it off in a way that you hoped was alluring. “Though, I gotta say, it is a bit awkward to meet the man I wrote two papers about in high school.”

Shit, his laugh was beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful. Like Apollo or something...

James’s head was thrown back in laughter. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes squeezed shut. “Did you actually write two papers about me?” He asked as he tried to catch his breath. At your nod, he smirked, leaning in close again. “What did you write about? How devilishly handsome I am?”

You couldn’t believe you were saying this. “I mean, I can show you the papers and actually let you read them, but they’re at my place.”

Before he could pick his jaw up off the ground, there were other seniors in the group coming up to greet you. Your throat was dry as the Sahara as you turned to face them, plastering on a smile as you tried to ignore the heated gaze on your face and the way he licked his lips.

The meeting was… long. Boring.

Or at least, that’s how it felt when you had James’s dark, sultry eyes on you the entire goddamn time.

Mind fuzzy, you vaguely remembered agreeing to come to the next meeting, and even signing up for a hiking trip they were taking the next weekend.

As you headed outside, you felt Bucky’s hand slip into yours, his long, calloused fingers intertwining with yours. “So… Am I gonna get to come over and… read those papers?” He murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

God, you could practically feel yourself bursting into flames. You weren’t gonna survive.

Thank god your daughter had forced you into a full shower.

But what about how dirty your house was sure to be?

“Um… Y-Yeah,” you said as you turned to look at him. “But, my daughter is gonna be driving me home… I don’t want her to know I’ve got someone coming over. She’s nosey. Real… Real nosey.”

“Of course, darlin,’” he chuckled. “Here, why don’t I give you my phone number, and you shoot me a text with your address when you’re ready for me to come over?”

Your head was swirling as you got into your daughter’s car, your phone burning a hole in your purse.

“How was it?” Josephine asked nervously once you got about halfway home. She couldn’t tell from the look on your face. “Did you like it?”

“Hm? Yeah.” Swallowing, you shot a text to James with your name, telling him you’d text him when it was all clear.

“Are you gonna go again?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

She seemed both dissatisfied and pleased by your vague answers. At least you were getting out of the house.

Once you got home and said goodbye, it was a mad dash to ensure that your house was clean as could be. Josie had put in some work while you’d been gone, it seemed. She’d done the dishes and the laundry, as well as dusted.

Thank fuck.

You struggled for a solid twenty minutes to put fresh sheets and pillowcases on the bed, lighting two candles and placing them in a manner that you hoped seemed natural.

“Shit,” you cursed as you smelled under your arms.

Okay, quick body shower. It seemed all that flirting had made you a tiny bit sweaty.

You turned the water to scalding and scrubbed your body down, exfoliating and using your best scented body wash.

And to be quite frank, you’d never shaved your lady bits as quick as that.

As you texted him your address and that it was safe to come over, you pulled on your clothing from the bar (though, you did put on nicer, matching lingerie underneath.) By the time he’d gotten there, you’d downed two shots of tequila for a bit of liquid courage and had poured yourself a glass of wine.

“Hey, baby doll,” he said, a crooked grin on his face as you welcomed him inside. His glove had been abandoned, and black metal fingers lined with gold glittered in the light. “Woah… You know, I wasn’t sure how your place was gonna look, but this is very… you.”

“Oh, really?” You asked as you offered him a glass of wine, which he gratefully took. “How so?”

“I don’t know,” he chuckled as he swirled the deep red liquid in its glass. “It’s cozy. Sweet.”

Your throat was dry as you watched his adam’s apple bob as he took a drink. “Um… so those papers…”

Bucky whispered your name, moving closer to you as he set the wine glass down on the counter. “Baby girl, I’m not really here for the papers, am I?” He asked as your back hit the island. “If I am… If I am, then just tell me, and I’ll stop this.” His slightly chapped lips ghosted against yours like the tease he was. “Am I here just for the papers?”

“No,” you breathed out, before pressing your lips against his in a firm kiss at last. His breath was minty and cool, with just a touch of the wine you’d been sharing, like he’d brushed his teeth before coming over just like you had.

Could it be possible he was just as nervous as you were?

But he was perfect? Why the hell would he be nervous?

Your thoughts were cut short as he reached down, his hands firmly grabbing your ass as he lifted you up and set you on the counter. “That’s a good girl,” he growled as he kissed down your neck, his hands working at your blouse. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you during that whole stupid fucking meeting. Just wanted to kiss you. Just wanted to… to touch you.” He pulled back, kissing you fiercely as his hands moved from your blouse to hold your face again. “You gonna let me touch you, angel?”

A whine escaped your throat as you nodded, desperately yanking at his shirt. Once it was off, you didn’t hesitate to run your hands over the broad planes of his chest. He wasn’t quite as toned as you remembered from when you were younger, when you used to (occasionally) stalk (lightly) his social media accounts. There’d been so many pictures of him on vacation with the other Avengers… all tanned and toned…

But you liked this better. There was a softness to him now, a gentleness.

You were so distracted by his physique that you didn’t notice he’d gotten your shirt and bra off until the cold air hit your chest. “Fuck,” you mumbled as his lips found your neck, trailing down to your breasts.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been kissed, let alone the last time you’d had such… attention.

Especially when his hands worked your pants off and he stood between your legs, moaning as his fingers tickled your thighs. “You’re so beautiful,” he said as his lips wrapped around one nipple, suckling at it and teasing until it was diamond hard, and he moved on to the other.

Gotta be fair, after all.

“James…”

“Fuck, baby girl… Never been with a woman as beautiful as you,” he growled, kissing down your tummy. “You’re not making it out of here without orgasming at least twice,” he warned jokingly. He was half bent over in front of the island, watching in wonder as he slowly pulled your silk panties down your legs and revealed your aching core to him.

“I-If you’re not comfortable standing like that, w-we can move somewhere else,” you stammered, suddenly growing self conscious. What if he thought your pussy was weird? Granted, you’d overcome thinking that when you were in your early twenties, after learning that each one looked different.

But he was born in the forties.

But that meant he’d probably seen an exponential amount of pussies!

Oh, god, there was no way you’d have anywhere near as much experience as him. The only person you’d ever been with was your ex husband, and he wasn’t exactly the paradigm of lovers.

“Hey.”

You refocused with a shake of your head, your eyes meeting James’s. “Yes?”

“You’re in your head,” he said softly, his forehead resting against yours as he slowly ran his fingers along your sensitive folds. “There’s no need… It’s just you and me, okay? And you’re absolutely perfect.”

Your heart was melting inside your chest as you nodded, stealing a tentative kiss. “Okay… Just you and me.”

James nipped at your lower lip as he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Come on. I don’t want our first time to be on a kitchen counter. Though I make no promises I won’t help christen every inch of this house after,” he said with a playful growl.

You whispered directions to your bedroom as he held you tight to his chest, his lips finding purchase on your neck. “And here I thought you said the super soldier serum was wearing off,” you joked.

The man snorted as he pushed you up against the hallway wall. “Trust me, doll, no lack of super soldier serum is gonna stop me from fucking you right,” he said, his voice husky and deep.

Before you could even open your mouth to reply, two thick fingers were slipping inside of you to slowly tease your cunt, his lips ghosting over yours. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed at the whimper that fell from your lips. “Y-Yes. Yes. Please, I need more, James…”

James smiled into the kisses he’d been giving you. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

“That’s a tall order.” You threaded your fingers through his hair, shivering at the way his metal fingers dug into the plumpness of your ass. “You sure you can fill it?”

He doesn’t respond with words, growling as he kisses you fiercely, carrying you to the bedroom. You don’t have time to think before he’s crawling over you and kissing up your tummy to your lips. “I need to be inside you,” He whispered as he stroked his length.

“Please… Don’t wanna wait anymore,” you said. Vaguely, you’re aware of the twinge in your knees from all the physical activity, and you knew you’d be sore as hell in the morning.

Fucking worth it, though.

James didn’t hesitate to line himself up, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. When he finally pushed in, unison moans fill the air.

“I… I haven’t done this in… so long,” you finally admitted as he slowly pushed in more, taking his time. Eyes locked, your mouth fell open in a soft ‘o’ as he bottomed out, his hips meeting yours. “Oh, fuck…”

“Then I better do a real good job fucking you right.”

You weren’t quite sure how long you two lasted, but you do know he manages to pull three orgasms out of you in the space of just a few hours. There’s snack and water breaks in between rounds, his cool metal hand running up and down your spine to cool you down as you two whisper in the dim light of your desk lamp.

You can’t remember a time that you’d felt so at peace.

A spark had been lit inside your chest as you two laid there in bed, legs intertwined. Both of you were quiet, his fingers moving to caress your cheek.

There were no words that needed to be said.

His sea blue eyes are sparkling in the dim light, and your hand runs over the sharp stubble that lines his jaw. It had certainly marked up your neck.

“I had intended on asking you on a date,” he said quietly as his hand found yours, bringing it to his mouth. Chapped lips kissed each of your knuckles like you were something precious, something to behold. “I didn’t think the five minutes or so before the meeting counted… But I’d still like to take you on that date, if you’ll let me.”

“That sounds nice,” you said, a grin twinging at the corners of your lips.

“Yeah?” He asked, sitting up a bit as his fingers brushed against your forehead.

“Yeah.” A giggle escaped your lips as he playfully tackled you, starting yet another round as his hips rolled down against yours.

The next morning, you woke up alone. The sheets beside you were mussed, though the space James had been occupying was still a bit warm.

Jazz music floated down the hall, through the cracked door, and you could vaguely hear the clinking of pans.

It took you a minute to gather the will to get yourself out of bed and find your robe, but you finally did it. As your feet hit the ground and you pushed yourself to a stand, you winced.

You had been right about feeling it in your knees.

You forced yourself to walk smoothly down the hall, despite how much it hurt. Embarrassing yourself in front of James was the last fucking thing you wanted to do.

He was in the kitchen, standing in front of the stove and humming along with the old jazz song playing on the Bluetooth speaker. He had a pan full of pancake batter in front of him, a whole stack he’d already made on the side.

Standing in the doorway, you couldn’t help but grin as you watched him. He’s so handsome… and he seemed so at home in your kitchen. In your home.

Maybe he’d like to move in…

You shook your head, knowing that it’s already too much.

But the thought was nice.

Him in his pajamas, making coffee… Him in your shower… Him in your bed every night…

Yeah. It’s a really, really nice thought.

“Hi.”

James jumped, his eyes wide as he whirled round to face you. “Hi. I thought I had another thirty minutes before I had to go and wake you up,” he said. “I’m making pancakes. For you. For us.” His cheeks flushed, turning a bright red as he turned back to the pan to quickly flip the pancake. “I hope you don’t mind that I used your flour and shit…”

“Oh, no, I… I almost never cook,” you admitted as you moved over to stand next to him, watching as he made two more pancakes.

As he carried the huge plate to the kitchen island, he teasingly grabbed your ass and squeezed. “Maybe I’ll have to stay the night more often, if only so you get a homemade breakfast.”

It was sweet, and domestic, and somewhat terrifying.

You hadn’t had a man do anything for you like this since you were in your twenties, when your husband was still sweet and loving.

But even so, this was somehow better than anytime your husband made his famous burritos.

Maybe because James’s cooking actually tasted good.

Your first date was to a movie, a drive in. Something that’s designed to be vintage but really just looked cheesy as all hell.

But it’s perfect. Perfect and cheesy and romantic.

Your only complaint was that he didn’t kiss you at the door when he dropped you off. He pressed his lips to your cheek and whispered a goodnight, and that was it.

It took two more dates within the same week for him to kiss you again.

Bright and early on the next Saturday morning, he knocked on your door, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“I figured I should make up for you having to be up so early with this,” he said as he came inside, kissing you quick before moving to put the flowers in a vase.

At this point, he knew your house almost as well as you did. It felt good, when you two moved around like you were part of a team.

“Have you gotten your coffee this morning?” You asked, already pouring two travel mugs full of the good stuff.

He came up behind you, kissing your shoulder. “I have, but you know I’ll never say no to more, doll.”

The rest of the group eyed you curiously as you got out of the same car, a few elbow nudges and whispers in the air.

“At least I know no old ass dickheads are gonna come hit on my girlfriend,” James growled in your ear, his calloused flesh hand squeezing your hip.

“Jamie…,” you whined, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. No one had ever claimed you in such a way that made you feel so desired and… and worthy.

James made you feel worthy.

Which is something you’d only ever really gotten from your daughter.

It sent a bolt of arousal through you, and you were tempted to drag him back to the car so you could bring him right back home and do something about it.

Also… Girlfriend? Were you his girlfriend now? Officially?

That just made you wanna find somewhere to fuck him even more.

But alas, you pushed the thought away as the lot of you boarded one of those white airport vans that took you out of the city to the closest state park.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed out as you stared out the window, forehead pressed to the cool glass. The morning air was a bit chillier than it had been lately, signaling the coming onslaught of winter.

Maybe Bucky would wanna make hot cocoa together… go sledding… Would him, Josephine, and Danny would all come over for Christmas and New Years and—

Would he even want to meet Josephine?

Would Josie wanna meet him?

She had no idea that you’d found a—A boyfriend?

“Not as beautiful as you,” Bucky murmured against the shell of your ear as his vibranium fingers intertwined with yours and squeezed. His stubble tickled your neck as he rested his head on your shoulder, watching the passing scenery with you. “I’m really glad I met you, doll…”

“Me, too,” you said, grinning as you squeezed his hand back and leaned your head against his.

It was strange, falling so hard for someone so quick after everything you’d been through.

But you had a gut feeling. One that you had never had with your ex husband.

James was a good one. A really, really good one.

That reminded you.

When were you meant to tell him about all the shit you’d been through?

Despite the amount of time you had spent together already, you hadn’t found the courage for it.

Soon, you decided.

But first, you had to get through the damn hike.

Bucky was glued to your side the entire time, even though you were a lot worse at hiking than he was. He would hold your hand, guiding you anytime there was a fallen tree or a creek. His blue eyes were soft as he murmured encouragement, quietly praising your every move.

It was intoxicating.

So when you two fell behind from the group, watching them go around a curve and down a hill, you dragged James behind a large rock formation.

“Baby doll? Darling, what the hell are you doing?” He laughed as you pressed a fierce kiss to his lips.

“Can’t a girl be spontaneous?” You teased as you dropped to your knees, ignoring the way a twig was poking into your left knee. “Need to taste you.”

His eyes locked on you as you worked at his jeans, getting them down and off, his nails scratching at your scalp as he got a good grip on your head. “Fuck… Are you really this needy for me, angel? Fuck, you’re so god damn gorgeous… Look at you.”

Your heart pounded against your rib cage as you finally freed his length, a grin on your lips as you wrapped your hand around him and slowly stroked him.

Bucky’s eyes rolled back as your mouth wrapped around the head of his cock. “Fucking shit… Good girl… Suck me off real good, baby.”

The group probably would notice your absence, not that you particularly cared.

Not when you had your man so weak for you. And all you’d had to do was get on your knees.

His metal and flesh hands guided you to take more of him in, going at a slow pace so as not to hurt you. He was so big there was no way you’d get all of him down your throat but what you couldn’t take in your mouth, you pleasured with your hands.

Pleasuring your partner like this was addicting. You’d never felt the desire—no, the incessant need—to please your ex husband. All you could think about was getting Bucky off, making him feel so good that he couldn’t see or walk straight.

You choked around him as you took him as deep as possible, your eyes glassy. When you popped off, you stroked him as you moved down to carefully suck at his balls, fighting a grin as he gasped, his hips stuttering. Before he could orgasm, you took him back in your mouth, wanting to swallow him down.

“Fuck, fuck— Oh, shit… Baby— I’m gonna… I’m gonna—” Bucky broke off with a shout as he came, spilling down your throat. His large hands stroked your cheeks as you swallowed all of it, barring the little bit that had gotten on your lower lip. “You did so good, darling,” he cooed as he helped you stand, pressing you against the rock behind him as he kissed you. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, right?”

“No, you didn’t,” you said, a faint smile on your lips as you helped him put himself back away. “You were perfect, James…”

When you finally caught up to the group, a few of the others shot you knowing looks.

But Bucky just had a satisfied smirk on his lips, his hand tightly intertwined with yours even as you flushed in embarrassment.

“Once we get home, it’s your turn,” he whispered in your ear as you all headed back for the van.

Your relationship with James was… wonderful.

It was easy in a way you’d never had before.

Within just two months, he was living at your house almost full time, to the point where you’d been thinking about asking him to move in.

It was like you two were magnets. Even when you both had work to do, you did it in the same room, slowly gravitating towards each other until you were sitting close, your foot running up his calf.

And he’d gotten you to start writing.

“It’s your dream, doll. You’re never too old to chase your dreams,” he said one night as you two laid in bed. His metal fingers were tracing shapes on your spine, a chill from the cracked window ruffling his sweaty hair. “If you don’t mind me asking… Why did you stop in the first place?”

Ah.

The conversation you’d been avoiding for so long.

Sitting up, you pressed your hands to your face as you tried to find the words to say. “Um… I was married before… I know you know, but, uh…” Your fingers fiddled together nervously. You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “My husband… He wasn’t… He wasn’t nice. At all.”

Bucky immediately sat up behind you, his vibranium hand resting flat on your back to reassure you that he was there, and to give you something to focus on while you spoke. He didn’t need to speak for you to know. He was there and he wasn’t running.

“I married him young… and I had Josephine young… He’d always been so… possessive, but I just considered it protective,” you continued, pulling strength from his touch to keep on going. You needed to tell him this. You needed him to understand. “Then after Josie was born, he started getting violent. He’d always been mean, but he’d never hit me until after I gave birth…”

James was tense behind you, slowly scooting over so he could wrap his arms around you, his legs resting on either side of yours as he held you. He needed you close. Needed to know you were safe in his arms and that man was long gone.

“Put me in the hospital a few times… He at least didn’t do it in front of Josie. That’s the one thing I asked of him that he listened to.” You couldn’t help but snort as you slowly relaxed back against him. “She always thought all the bruises and shit was just a side effect of how clumsy I am… But she came home one day during college, to surprise us… She walked in on him holding a frying pan above his head, about to swing again. She jumped in between us and told him if he ever touched me again, she’d kill him.” You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as his lips pressed to your bare shoulder. It was soothing, feeling his skin against yours. “She moved me out of that house and into her apartment, helped me get the divorce, get back on my feet…”

“Remind me to tell Josephine thank you,” he said quietly as he squeezed you close. “Thank you for telling me, doll… I… I can’t imagine how hard that was… But he’ll never touch you again. No one will ever touch you again if you don’t want it.”

“I know.”

He nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. “I love you. So much…”

A peace settled over you as you rested your head back against his, allowing yourself to truly fall into him, to relax. “And I love you…”

After that night, Bucky slept over at your place five to six nights a week, only going home to get more clothes and do his laundry really, even though you’d told him a million times he could do it at your place.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he murmured in your ear one morning, pushing your hair away from your face. “Time to get up… I’ve got breakfast ready for you…”

Groaning, you tried to pull him down for more cuddle time, but he wasn’t having it. He always woke up before you, too many years a soldier coming into play. He’d go for a run and make breakfast before waking you up.

“Come on, doll,” he chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as he got you to sit up, your vision blurry from sleep still. “Medicine,” he said, pressing your pills into your palm and putting a glass of water in your other.

Ever since he’d found out about your prescriptions and how you had a hard time remembering to take them, he’d taken it upon himself to make sure you did, every morning and night without fail.

“What’d you make this morning?” You asked sleepily after swallowing your pills, letting him pull you to your feet. His t-shirt clung to you as you followed him down the hall. Your hand was tucked into his as you rounded the corner to the kitchen.

What neither of you had heard was the sound of the front door opening.

“Mama?! What the hell?!” Josephine demanded, standing in the kitchen with Danny right behind her. “Who the fuck is this?! What is he doing here?!”

Oh.

Yeah.

You’d neglected to tell your daughter, afraid of how she might take it.

“Hello. I’m James. Or Bucky,” your boyfriend said as he held out his hand to you, clearly unashamed and standing his ground even though he was only wearing a pair of pajama pants.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Your daughter repeated angrily, ignoring his hand.

“Josie,” Danny began, trying to soothe her.

But your daughter was nothing but determined when she was in her protective mode.

Before you could open your mouth, Bucky supplied, “I’m her boyfriend.”

You felt a flush coming over you as she stared at the two of you, slack-jawed. “He is,” you said, wrapping both of your arms around his metal one. You were so nervous, you were shaking.

“When did this happen?!” She demanded, beginning to pace back and forth around the kitchen.

“Um… The first meeting at the bar… for the club,” you said. Seeing her so upset made your anxiety spike, and you knew James could feel it, could hear the way your heart rate increased exponentially.

Josephine whirled on you, her eyes—so much like yours—wide with disbelief. No. Betrayal. “You’ve been seeing someone for almost three months and you didn’t tell me?”

“I…” Tears pricked your eyes as you tightened your grip on Bucky’s arm. This was not the way you wanted them meeting to go. “I was scared… of how you’d react…”

At that moment, Bucky turned to meet your eyes, his forehead almost pressing against yours. “Darling, I feel like this is a conversation you two should have alone, yeah? So I’m gonna take—Danny, right? Yeah—Danny to the living room with some coffee so we can get to know each other, okay?”

After a nod, and a squeeze of his hand, he got two mugs of coffee and led your daughter’s girlfriend to the living room. You could see them sitting down from the corner of your eyes, but you were much too focused on Josephine.

“Mama, I—”

“I love him,” you said, before she could say anything more.

Her eyes were shining, locked on you as she waited for you to speak. In her gut, she knew this was something you needed to get out.

“I love him more than I’ve ever loved a man. More than I loved your father,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “And I know… I know you’re as protective as you are because you saw how he treated me. You saw how much I hid that he was hurting you, but Jamie isn’t like that.” Your fingers fiddled as you tried to keep yourself from pacing. “He’s kind and adoring and gentle and… and he loves me. More than I thought anyone could ever love me. And I know you feel like you need to take care of me and I am so grateful. And I still need you. Everyday. But Bucky… I love him. I love him and he loves me and we take care of each other.”

Josephine reached out, slowly taking your hands in hers. “He… He makes you happy? He takes care of you and you’re safe?” She asked, voice trembling as a few tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Yeah. He takes real good care of me,” you insisted with a weak laugh. “And I’ve never been so happy before, honey. I promise.”

“Okay…,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’m still giving him the shovel talk.”

Bucky looked up as Josephine entered the living room, looking much calmer. He wasn’t sure what you’d said, but it had seemed to placate her for the time being.

“Can we talk outside?” She asked him, keeping her chin high.

God, she looked so much like you.

He nodded stiffly, getting to his feet and leaving his mug behind as he followed her to the front door and out onto the porch. The former super soldier watched as she paced back and forth, biting her thumb. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

Josie stopped in her tracks, listening quietly.

“Your mama loves you something fierce.” Nervously rubbing his hands on his pajama pants, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so nervous meeting a girl’s family.

Though, he supposed it was a bit different when it was meeting your girlfriend’s daughter.

“And I love her.”

Your daughter, your mini me, stared him directly in the eyes. “I’m sure she’s told you about my father. What he did.”

“She did.”

“So you know that if you put one fucking foot out of line, I’ll filet you?”

“I do.”

She eyed him for a long moment. “What are you in this for? What’s the long term?” She asked. “I’ve heard of elders just… settling for someone because they don’t wanna be alone in their twilight years. Is that what this is?”

Bucky tried really hard not to feel a little bit offended. He wasn’t that old. “I’ve been alive since 1917,” he said slowly. “I have no doubt you know who I am. But I’ve been alive a hundred and something years, and I’ve never met someone who makes me feel the way your mom does.” His heart clenched inside his chest as he thought of you, seeing your shy smile in the mornings, how you clung to him when you went out in public, the sound of your voice as you read an excerpt of your writing to him, so nervous about what he would think. “And I… I can say that everything I’ve been through… Everything I’ve ever been through was worth it, because I got to meet her. And I get to be hers for the years I have left.”

She looked absolutely speechless. “Good,” she said, coughing to clear her throat. “Good. I just… I can’t see her get hurt again. Not after everything.”

“Trust me, I don’t plan to,” he said, his mouth dry. “I… I actually have something to ask you about… Been waiting to meet you to talk to you about it…”

Inside, you paced the kitchen and living room, going back and forth and back and forth, sometimes moving to the window to try to hear what they were saying. But they were keeping it all very hushed.

“It’s gonna be fine, mama,” Danny said, standing up and moving to wrap her arms around you. “Josie’ll see how much you two love each other, and it’ll be fine. She’s just gotta have her protective moment. You know how she is.”

Sniffling, you hugged her tightly. “I shouldn’t have kept it from her for so long… I was just so nervous… They both… They both mean the world to me.” You paused, snorting. “I knew you’d approve of him. I wasn’t so worried about you.”

“Oh, please, the way that man looked at you?” She said, laughing as she kissed your forehead. “Mama, there’s no way in hell that man would ever hurt you. He looks at you like you’re his entire universe.”

Heart warm, you glanced towards the front door, wishing they’d just come inside already. “I’ve never felt something like this… But fuck, if the whole shit show that’s my life wasn’t worth it for him… I wouldn’t change a thing, as long as it means I get to end up with him.”

You broke out of her grasp as the front door opened and they came back inside, looking relaxed and even… happy? “Well? You aren’t gonna kill him?” You asked Josie as you moved to James, heart racing.

“Nah…,” she said, giving him what seemed like a secretive smile. “As far as dads go… He’d be pretty nice to have.”

“What?” You said, brows furrowing as you looked between the two of them.

Bucky chuckled, winking at Josephine as he led you to the stove where breakfast was still waiting, making you waddle as his arms wrapped around you from behind. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, baby doll. It’s all good.”

You still couldn’t help but feel like the two were planning something as he made your plate for you, cutting up your pancakes and filling up your coffee. “Why do I feel like you two are gonna end up ganging up on me?”

“Oh, come on, mama,” Josephine said with a smirk on her face. Her and Danny had made their own plates and joined you and Bucky in the living room. “How could you ever accuse us of such a thing?”

“Yeah,” James said as he fed you a bite of pancake. “How could you ever accuse us of such a thing?” He asked, before leaning in and stealing a kiss. “I love you.”

You’d never felt more relaxed, surrounded by the people you loved the most in the world. What you’d said to Josephine had been true.

“I love you more,” you said, leaning back in for another kiss.

You’d never been so happy.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 3 years

Text

(The Bad Batch) Going on a Boardwalk

Imagine: You and the Bad Batch go on a boardwalk by the ocean!

(Author’s Note: Happy Bad Batch eve!!!!)

You arrive at sunset. The sky is a striking orange which is beginning to fade into dark blue, with the horizon above the ocean painted with all sorts of pastels in between the two shades. The group sets foot on the creaking boardwalk and looks ahead at the long row of stands and shops that goes for miles. Omega is “ooh”ing and “aw”ing at all the lights, and she pointed excitedly at the rides down by the pier.

And so, the Bad Batch begins the trek along the boardwalk.

Hunter’s first instinct is to watch Omega and smile at her reaction to the location. There’s a pretty decent crowd, so he makes sure to keep an eye on her. If you’re his significant other, you may be used to having to share your Sergeant since he was responsible for the squad...but it’s a boardwalk and it’s supposed to be fun, so you encourage him to relax. Hunter eventually is able to let go and enjoy himself, entwining his fingers with yours and walking with you. His favorite part of the boardwalk so far is hearing the crash of the waves nearby, hearing the seagulls, and feeling the salty air. He absolutely loves glancing beside him to see you smiling and appreciating the sights too.

Tech spends the first few minutes on his datapad gathering whatever intel he could about the shops they have and whatnot. He rarely goes into a situation without research simply because he likes to be prepared and he likes to have information whenever his brothers ask a question. After that, he is quite happy to simply savor the scenery. If you’re his date, he’ll want to hold your hand the whole way as you walk and take in the things to do. Tech is interested in boardwalk games and arcades, and though he might not say so right away, you can see him staring whenever passing by one.

Echo is smiling a lot. His mood is light as his gaze wanders the stands and sees all the happy people walking by. This was the vacation that was long overdue, and he was going to enjoy it. Lots of things grab his attention: the food, the games, the rides. Omega convinces him to go on a ride with her later. If you’re his significant other, he’d be at your side the whole time, holding your hand. He’d rather let you pick what you want to do or see first.

Wrecker is in awe of all the things you can do and see in one place. He and Omega are chattering about all the rides they want to go on later at the pier. He is pretty fixated on the food for now. If you’re his significant other, you may find that he goes from holding your hand to running toward whatever catches his eye, which happens often. He’s pretty fixated on food and most likely won’t move on until he has something to eat. Ever the gentleman, he wants to be sure you get something too.

Crosshair remains at your side as his sharp eyes take everything in. He likes to follow the rear of the group. Normally, he isn’t one for public displays of affection, but with all the young men running around in groups and after noticing the other couples walking hand-in-hand, he feels the need to mark you as his. You’ll feel his hand gently take yours, and when you glance over he is already gazing at you. He’s content to go wherever you want to go and just enjoys seeing you happy.

Omega is super excited and spends the first fifteen or so minutes planning to go on rides and trying to get her brothers to volunteer to take her. Her eyes are aglow from the lights reflecting in them. There are people who stand in front of the shops playing with whatever toy or fad was in to try and draw in customers, and Omega would definitely be drawn in. She’d want to play with the bubble machines and robo pets even if for a few minutes before moving on.

After walking farther down the boardwalk, the Batch finds themselves drawn to different things, so they agree to separate for a little while.

Hunter will explore the shops with you, but he is most drawn to the edge of the boardwalk where he can watch the sun go down over the ocean. If you’re his date, he would take the opportunity of having the others distracted to just shower you with affection. He doesn’t make a scene or anything, but he smiles warmly at you, gives your hand a little kiss, and kisses your forehead in between ganders at the ocean. Eventually, he can’t resist anymore and tilts your chin to meet your lips with his own in a tender kiss just as the sun dips beneath the horizon.

Tech wants to play some arcade games, if you’re up for it. He enjoys showing off his intellect and skill, but sometimes he likes a good game of chance where anything can happen. He can calculate probability for those scenarios, but not much beyond that. He also really loves watching you. He’ll stand behind you with his chest pressed to your back and watch you play your favorite game. His absolute favorite is to go up against you in a two-player game. He loves the competition and when you playfully talk smack when he gets cocky. If Tech wins, he’ll want a kiss as his prize.

Echo will gladly go along with whatever his significant other wants to do first. If you want to look at the ocean, he is more than happy to do it with you. If you’d rather get something to eat, he’s in. One thing he does want to do during your time together is browse the gift shops and pick up a souvenir. He’d treat you to something like matching oversized hoodies with the boardwalk logo on them or nice mugs to use for caf aboard the Marauder. If you tried hard enough to convince him, he might even agree to get those matching couple shirts displayed in the windows like “her king” and “his queen” or something customized. He playfully rolls his eyes as you hold one of the shirts up in front of him, but he can’t help but lean in and capture your lips in a loving kiss.

Wrecker definitely wants to grab something to eat first. There are so many different places that he can’t decide which one to commit to for his first boardwalk meal. He ends up getting a little something from a few different places. Pizza, hotdogs, fries… He gets enough for both of you to share, and the two of you would find a nice spot at a table near the edge where there’s a lovely view of the ocean. After the two of you are full, he’d be more attentive and open to whatever you wanted to see next, holding your hand and giving you kisses.

Crosshair is fine with letting you lead the way to whatever you wanted to do first. He is enjoying all of the sights with you, and that’s more than enough for him. However, if you were to ask if there’s anything he’d like to see in particular, he wouldn’t mind stopping in one of the shops with henna tattoos and edgy t-shirts. He’d get himself an oversized hoodie to wear for a little while before pulling it down over your form when the sun disappeared behind the horizon and it got colder outside. He’d smile at you as you hugged yourself in the air and sighed in contentment: That new hoodie smell would be mingled with his own scent. He takes your hand again and the two of you continue on your way.

Omega tags along with one of her brothers for a while and ends up getting something to eat and a toy from one of the shops to keep tucked under her arm as she explores. She begs Hunter to let her get a temporary tattoo. He’s hesitant because she’s young and he doesn’t want her to think she has to impress the group by getting a real tattoo someday, but since it’s only a temporary one just for fun, he decides it’s okay. Omega gets a little seahorse and starfish on the back of her hand.

Next up are the rides! The group reunites and heads over to the pier to buy some tickets. With the sun down, the rides are all lit up in the dark.

Hunter won’t pressure you to go on anything if you don’t like rides, and he will probably only go on a couple of rides with Omega to make her happy, but will spend most of the time at your side. If you do want to go but are a little nervous, he’ll gladly hold your hand and tease you playfully until you go with him. If you are the kind of person who loves to go on all the rides, he’ll go on a few with you and stand by and hold your things while you go on more.

Tech will definitely go on some rides if you want to. Otherwise, he will try one or two on his own and be content with standing back and watching everyone else alongside you. He might get some recordings of Wrecker’s screams on the really high ones that Omega managed to convince him to go on. If you do go on crazy rides, Tech will film your reaction to play back and tease you lovingly about with that cute smirk on his face.

Echo would rather watch the others have their fun. He gets a little salty and says Tech’s wild flying is more than enough for him. However, Omega somehow got him to agree to go with her before, so he’ll keep his word and go on a ride with her. If you enjoy rides, he will also make an exception for you too. However, if you’d rather watch the others, the two of you can stand near the ride and wave as they go.

Wrecker loves fast rides, but still is terrified when it comes to heights. He’ll tolerate a rollercoaster that goes in a few loops, but if it’s the kind that climbs agonizingly slow to the top and then flies down a steep drop from a few hundred feet up, he’ll be covering his eyes and screaming. Him and Omega stick to the ones that aren’t too bad. If you enjoy rides, Wrecker will be happy to go on them with you. He’ll even accompany you on one of the high coasters if you insist on going by yourself, because he’s worried for you and wants to protect you even if it scares the heck out of him. If you don’t like rides, he’ll probably still go on a few with Omega. The two of them will wave at you and grin adorably.

Crosshair is not scared one bit and will do the craziest ride on the pier, if challenged. It makes him the perfect person to go on rides with if you’re a little scared. He’ll go on anything with you, keeping calm and holding your hand even if you’re totally freaking out. Doesn’t matter if you want to go on thirty rides or just one, he’s down. If rides aren’t your thing, he’s also fine to stand with you and watch the others. Better watch out, if he feels the need to show off, he will go on the craziest ride just to make a point.

Omega wants to go on every ride within reason. There are height limits to some, so she’ll obviously avoid those. Her and Wrecker are buddies when it comes to rides since he;s the Bad Batcher who enjoys them the most, although she’ll manage to get Echo and Hunter to go with her on a few. And if everyone else is done with rides, Tech or even Crosshair will go on one with her.

The squad will turn and head back toward the exit. They may stop at a few stands on the way back to see anything they missed on the way up. Omega is exhausted, so one of the brothers carries her back.

When you get back to the ship, everyone is tired and heads to their bunks. You get cozy with your Bad Batch SO and drift off to sleep...

#the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #crosshair x reader #hunter reader insert #crosshair reader insert #tech x reader #echo x reader #wrecker x reader #tech reader insert #echo reader insert #wrecker reader insert #bad batch reader insert #bad batch imagine #bad batch headcanons #bad batch preferences #bad batch story

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haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 4 years

Text

you weren’t supposed to hear that (F! reader)

A collection of instances where your roommate hears you moaning their name whilst your fingers are between your legs. Or your neighbor. Or maybe you walk in on them saying your name. Take your pick 😈

warnings: NSFW, manga spoilers (in terms of what the boys do post timeskip), degradation (i think?)

a/n: i'm so nervous about this one LOL i’m super into Sakusa but I don’t know much about him tbh. he’s some good eye candy and that’s all i got. and i like the idea that he’d be a bit softer with you. anyways, hope you enjoy ✨J

taglist: @apollochjld @kurosarium

Other parts: Kuroo | Ushijima

Sakusa Kiyoomi

You weren’t really sure what you were expecting when you filled out the application to be Sakusa’s roommate. The application was straightforward, maybe a bit excessive, particularly in the cleaning department, but nothing you couldn’t handle. And you would’ve done almost anything to be accepted given the price was a steal and the owner of the apartment claimed they would be away frequently. So, agreeing to a few ridiculous housekeeping requests seemed reasonable to you.

All Sakusa wanted was someone to look after his apartment while he was gone, keep it tidy and clean it thoroughly before he returns. You also had to send pictures of the state of your current apartment to ‘prove’ your cleanliness. Excessive, but retrospectively—extremely worth it.

Though what you hadn’t been expecting was for the owner of the apartment to be Sakusa Kiyoomi, an outside hitter for the MSBY Black Jackals. Nor had you expected him to actually accept your application.

In all honesty, Sakusa had been a little desperate. Nobody who’d applied came even close to his expectations, and when he’d read you clean your bathroom at least once a week, it was like a breath of fresh air. And when he met you, you were pleasant and described that you mainly like to keep to yourself which sounded perfect to him. But what really convinced him was that you showed up wearing a mask. He wasn’t sure if you could tell how surprised he was, but the second he saw it, he almost accepted you on the spot.

That was over a year ago now and you and Sakusa have been living in a comfortable rhythm. When he’s home, you gladly help him clean when you have the time, and sometimes when he gets home from practice you already have dinner cooking which he can’t deny he’s come to enjoy. When he’s away, he feels safe that his home isn’t going into complete disarray or collecting dust because you’re there. And when he comes home, he loves that the apartment is nearly spotless.

By now, he almost considers your germs his own. He doesn’t mind sitting near you eating dinner, or next to each other on the couch. In fact, he finds he rather enjoys your presence. But lately, the two of you have been sitting closer on the couch and table, and when he’s gone, he actually misses you, which he will never admit. Coming home to a clean apartment and even you just popping your head into the hallway to greet him before retreating to your room is enough for him.

His growing problem is that he isn’t sure if it’s enough anymore. And it became terribly clear to him when you came to one of his games for the first time.

After the game you waited for him outside the locker room, feeling a little out of place even though Sakusa gave you a VIP pass to be allowed back here. When he emerges, he finds you swarmed by his teammates, politely indulging them and telling them you’re just waiting for someone. It makes his skin prickle in the same way it does when people touch him unprompted. Even worse, Atsumu is far too close to you for his comfort.

You seem fine though, brightly greeting him when he approaches, much to the shock of his teammates.

“What’s a pretty girl doin’ knowing our ‘Omi, hey?” Atsumu drawls, sending a sly smile your way as Sakusa frowns at the nickname.

Before you can open your mouth, amused by the nickname you’ve never heard before, Sakusa interjects, “She’s my roommate.” Rendering the rest of them speechless (which is quite the feat), he takes you gently by the arm so the two of you can leave. Two things shock them: that Sakusa has a roommate and that he touched you.

“They aren’t so bad,” you grin up at him as he scowls, the two of you heading down the hallway towards the exit.

“You don’t have to spend hours on end with them.”

You shrug, knowing Sakusa is a man of unique circumstances when it comes to other people. A thought that makes you stop in your tracks, your hand shooting out to grip his arm to stop him, surprising him enough that he doesn’t recoil from your touch. “We should go this way,” you say, pointing down a different hallway.

He just looks at you, then down at your hand still wrapped around his forearm which you quickly snatch away. “Why? This way will be closer to the car.”

“I came by this way earlier and there was a group of your fans waiting for you,” you grimace. “I’d guess they’re probably still there.”

He frowns, grumbling to himself, but starting towards the hallway you pointed out. He’d very much like to avoid that situation if possible. The two of you make it out unscathed and un-swarmed by his avid fans, and on the way out to the car he can’t help thinking how much he appreciates how considerate you are. Anyone else would have told him he’s being ridiculous and to meet his fans. Not you, however. You always take his feelings into account.

That was weeks ago now. And none of his teammates have let it go since.

For you, when you first moved in, you swore to yourself you’d never fall for him. Not even after you accidentally walked in on him working out in his home gym, his lean and muscular arms out on display, a thin sheen of sweat dampening his dark curls—you nearly combusted. You forced yourself to put it out of your mind, because how could you fall for him? His annoyingly attractive face on billboards haunts you everywhere you go, and he was a stand-offish and a little neurotic for months. But as time as passed, he grew on you.

You now find his need for cleanliness endearing. Particularly now that he’s seemingly accepted you into his ‘bubble’. You’ll never forget the moment he touched you for the first time of his own accord. It was simple, nothing to think anything of really, but for him it was a big deal. It was just a brief touch on the shoulder while you were washing dishes thanking you for dinner. Afterwards, you took note of every time he touched you. One that stands out the most was when he wanted to escape his teammates at the very first game of his you attended. It was firmer, more of a silent plea from him that stunned you.

Really, you could be perfectly happy living like this. Except that your thoughts wander to him far too often now. Especially when he’s gone. It feels weird not having him around, scolding you for missing one spot on the counter, or sitting quietly next to you on the couch—you think about him a lot. His silent presence is strangely comforting, and it doesn’t help you watch his games while he’s away.

He is beautiful to watch. To the point you can’t even believe you live with him. Your efforts to keep your feelings in check were futile. You get so riled up that recently you’ve begun tiding yourself over to the thought of him. At first, you felt pretty ridiculous, especially since it’s hard to imagine him wanting to be…dirty like that, but eventually you just let your imagination run wild. You let yourself believe that with you, he’d be different.

It’s become a habit now while he’s gone. You know it’s awful. Yet you can’t stop yourself. Not when you haven’t been with someone since moving in with Sakusa. At first it was because you didn’t want to piss him off by bringing some stranger into the apartment. But now, you don’t even think you could. Not when you know you’ll only think about him the entire time.

He left only yesterday for his away game, but you’re already missing him. Already foolishly letting your thoughts wander into darker territory that you keep locked up tight when he’s around. His game is tomorrow, so you take the opportunity while you’re almost one-hundred percent certain he won’t come home early. On several occasions he’s come back a day early, but never before a game. Always after.

Your new favorite spot is the shower. Mostly because you can imagine him maybe letting loose a bit while the two of you are actively being cleaned in the process. Once you’ve stripped and the warm water is cascading down your back, it’s easy to imagine him.

You’ve pictured him so many times before that sometimes it really does feel like he’s there. That it’s his hands trailing down your sides, resting your hips, his mouth gently kissing along your neck as his hands move lower. The thought of him towering over you, his curly hair damp from the water, those dark eyes boring into you has you trembling in anticipation.

You’re already soaking when you run a finger between your folds, gripping the tiles when it reaches your clit, wondering what Sakusa’s fingers would feel like instead. Dipping your head, you let out a small, “Kiyoomi,” as you picture him whispering filthy things in your ear.

When Sakusa enters the apartment, he wrinkles his nose under his mask at the slight mess. Though, he supposes he can’t blame you. He wasn’t supposed to be home for another three days. But the other team cancelled unexpectedly, unable to get to the destination due to terrible weather. He hears the shower running in the other room, so he pulls off his mask and gets down to work. He can talk to you about it later.

Though he can’t help imagining you in the shower. Your body freshly clean, water running down your back, between your breasts, and along your legs. His mind gets so clouded by the image that he doesn’t realize he’s been scrubbing the same spot on the counter for a few minutes now. He’s jolted back to reality when he hears a sharp, “Ah!” emit from the bathroom.

He drops his cleaning supplies and quickly strides towards the bathroom thinking you’ve fallen in the shower. The door is slightly open, steam trickling into the hallway, and before he can knock and ask if you’re alright he hears your voice again.

“Oh—Kiyoomi...”

His hand stops mid-air, eyes widening with the realization of what you’ve just said. He pauses for a moment, debating what he should do. He can’t deny he thinks about you more often than he should, and more frequently as of late. And to him, the shower seems like the perfect place. So, he pushes the door open quietly, unzipping his jacket and saying into the silence, “Did you say my name?”

You almost take a tumble into the tub in surprise at hearing his actual voice in the bathroom with you. Close enough to lead you to believe he is in the bathroom. Yanking your fingers out of you, you push back the curtain, intent on yelling at him for intruding on you and scaring the shit out of you, though your voice dies in your throat.

Standing in the middle of the bathroom is Sakusa Kiyoomi, in all his infuriatingly delicious glory, pulling off his shirt and moving to rid himself of his track pants as well. He’s looking at you, deadpan, eyes moving down your body but stopping where the shower curtain is still covering you.

After a moment, you collect your senses, managing to choke out, “Wh—what are you doing?” Just your luck that he came home early at this exact moment and that he heard you. You’d curl up into a ball of embarrassment right now if you weren’t so shocked by his demeanor.

Now that he’s completely unclothed you struggle to keep your eyes above his chest, gripping the curtain harder when he steps forward and says casually, “It was a long flight, I want to take a shower.”

You gape at him. “Right now?!”

He just takes a hold of the curtain, pulling it open slightly so he can step in next to you, and you’re so stunned you make no motion to stop him. And now you’re finding him towering over you in the small space of the shower, so close you can hardly breathe. All the air gets punched out of your lungs when his large hand rests on your hip, turning you so your back is facing him so he can lean down at tease in your ear, “You asked me to come in here, after all.”

All of the heat leaves your body, pooling directly between your legs at his tone. He wastes no time, lathering his hands up with soap and running them along your sides before reaching forward to cup your breasts in his hands, thumbs roaming aimlessly along your nipples, the soap foaming between his fingers.

“Were you thinking about me in the shower?” He asks, his tone dropping into something dark and dangerous. “Such a filthy girl.” He tugs at your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger making your knees tremble and the growing need between your legs even worse.

“Sa—Sakusa,” you moan, tilting your head back onto his shoulder, getting the full view of his hungry eyes boring into you.

He frowns, pinching your nipples slightly harder, reprimanding, “That isn’t what you called me earlier.”

You writhe in his embrace, gripping his arms, forcing yourself to keep eye contact with him as you correct yourself. “Kiyoomi.” He smirks at you, relenting on your nipples as reward, though continuing his soft ministrations.

You can’t help your ass arching backwards, coming into contact with his hardening member, giving him a bit of his own medicine as you grind against him. He hisses through his teeth, admonishing, “What a needy slut.”

“Fuck,” you mewl, pressing against him even harder. You can’t explain what his voice saying those things is doing to you—all you know is you need him to fucking touch you already. “Please, Kiyoomi,” you beg, lifting your arms up and around his neck behind you, your fingers twining into his wet hair. “Make a fucking mess of me.”

He groans deep in his throat, rutting up against your behind and wrapping one strong arm around your middle while the other trails towards the apex of your thighs. “Is that what you want? To be my dirty little slut?” Your fingers grip his hair even tighter, nodding embarrassingly quickly, standing up on your tiptoes to get his hand any closer to where you desperately need him.

Once his fingers reach your core, sliding up through the slick gathered between your legs and towards your clit; your knees nearly give out from under you. If it wasn’t for his arm around you keeping you up, you would have sunk to the floor at the sheer pleasure that sweeps through your body. His fingers are infinitely better than yours and having his solid frame and prominent hard-on pressing behind you almost sends you through the roof.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks quietly against the skin of your neck, his hips grinding up against your ass, which you gladly return with pressure of your own.

“Yes—yes,” you say, gasping when sinks a finger knuckle deep into your heat, quickly adding another and praising you for how well you’re taking it. He watches the space where his fingers are disappearing into you with a sinful expression, enjoying intensely how you’re practically shoving yourself onto his fingers.

“What a good girl,” he whispers, setting your skin on fire, wanting nothing more than to keep being exactly that for him. He smiles devilishly, in a way you would have never imagined he could in your wildest dreams. An almost savage glint in his eyes as he presses harshly on your clit, eliciting a choked sob out of you, and making you dig your nails into the arm wrapped around you.

“Please—,” you say, head lolling on his shoulder allowing him to finally kiss you fully. Surprising you as his tongue slides into your mouth, his fingers relentless, his free arm now helping you drive his fingers even deeper. Voice coming out in a pathetic whine that makes his cock twitch, you plead, “God—Kiyoomi, please!”

“Use your words.”

Thoughts far too hazy to be any sort of embarrassed you hold his dark gaze. “Fuck me.”

Suddenly, his fingers are out of you and he’s bending you over, the head of his cock pressing into your dripping entrance before he sheathes himself completely in you, a hiss escaping him. His head drops to rest his forehead on your shoulder, droplets from his wet hair sliding down your chest as he composes himself from how fucking amazing you feel around him.

“Fuck,” he moans, the closest he’s come to breaking his resolve from just fucking you within an inch of your life. “So tight for such a needy slut,” he grits out, hands resting on your hips as he pulls out only to thrust into you again. His fingers dig into your hips to slam your ass into his, increasing his pace to the point you can barely see straight. Your own fingers scrabble for any sort of purchase on the tiles in front of you, desperately attempting to ground yourself against his brutal pace.

“You feel so fucking good,” you praise, earning you his hand reaching down to lift your leg onto the edge of the tub allowing him to sink even deeper into you.

The lewd sound of skin slapping together, the two of you panting and murmuring nonsense to each other, and the shower continuing to run fills the space as he continues to pound ruthlessly into you is all you’ve ever dreamed about. As he litters kisses and soft bites along your spine, the pressure in your stomach builds and builds, and before it bursts you gasp, “Oh my god—Kiyoomi.”

He notices your body starting to tense up, your back arching and fingers twitching as your orgasm comes hurtling towards you. Taking the opportunity, he pulls your body up, your back flush against his chest, hips never faltering and fingers finding your clit to bring you even closer to release.

“Cum for me,” he orders, voice so cold you feel a little embarrassed by how much it turns you on. But you know that’s just how he sounds sometimes and he’s probably playing it up a bit for you. “Cum on my cock like the good little slut you are.”

That sends you tumbling over the edge, your entire body convulsing as white-hot pleasure courses through your veins, prolonged by him continuing to plunge into you. The sensation is so overwhelming you start writhing in his grip, attempting to ride it out while he holds you firmly against him restricting your movement.

He can’t hold it back much longer, your walls clamping down around him nearly made him cum on the spot, but he holds you through your orgasm, forcing you to endure the full brunt of it while he continues fucking you. Though your body relaxing against his, your fingers winding into his hair, and your voice asking him so politely to cum for you makes him lose it. He grips your hips tightly, jackhammering into you chasing his release. Eventually his hips still, thighs shuddering as he concentrates on keeping the both of you standing while he cums.

The two of you stand there in silence, water still running, as his forehead rests on your back, both of your chests heaving at the exertion you just expended. Your heart is thundering against your chest, unsure what to say and hoping he’ll say something first. He groans, relinquishing your hips from his death grip and pulling his softening cock out of you.

You really shouldn’t have been surprised by what he says first.

“We should rinse off,” he suggests, despite the fact he’s still leaning on your back, hands now resting harmlessly on your hips.

“Okay,” you murmur, reaching for the soap and moving out of his grasp. He just stands there watching you, the water streaming onto his back, a completely passive expression on his face. If it was anyone else, they might have interpreted it as boredom or that he’s uninterested but to you—he just looks content.

You motion for him to turn around and start lathering the soap along his back, relishing the free chance to roam your hands all over his incredibly built body. Peering around his shoulder, you find him with his eyes closed, the smallest smile curving his lips as he enjoys your hands massaging his back. You smile to yourself, moving on to find his shampoo and gently scrubbing it into his hair, tucking the small pleased groan he makes into the back of your brain to remember later.

After a few quiet moments he says, “The apartment’s a mess.”

That makes you frown, a sour expression adorning your face. Poking his side, you reply, “Well, you weren’t supposed to be home for another three days!” He turns around, washing the soap off his back and out of his hair while you take no time to start exploring the expanse of his chest with your soapy fingers. When he opens his eyes, looking down at you, you pout. “Can’t we leave it for tomorrow?”

As much as he dislikes that, he can’t help but agree, finding the prospect of curling up in bed with you much more enticing.

Once he’s finished, he returns the favor washing your body, and the both of you step out of the shower to dry off. You pull on the pajama’s you’d left in here for after your shower that you thought you’d be taking alone while he simply wraps the towel around his waist, making it almost impossible not to stare at him as he waits for you.

You’re surprised when he leads you to his bedroom, changing into pajama’s of his own as you slide under the covers. They smell like detergent and the faint scent of Sakusa’s body wash, wrapping around you pleasantly—you take an indulgent breath, letting the scent soak into your senses. It gets even better when he joins you, hand resting on your bare arm, fingers drawing small circles against your skin. He gives you a soft kiss to the forehead, enjoying your freshly showered body against his beneath the sheets and your fingers in his hair.

“You know I honestly didn’t think you knew how to kiss,” you joke, tapping his chin, “With the mask and all.”

He peers down at you, the subtlest glint in his eyes as he replies, “Have I changed your mind?”

Your resulting cheeky smile makes his pants feel a little tight. “I think you might need to show me again.”

#haikyuu x reader #Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader #Sakusa x reader #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu imagine #sakusa scenario #sakusa imagine #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi scenario #sakusa kiyoomi imagine #haikyuu #haikyuu!!

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hobbitingryffindor · 3 years

Text

Don’t respond after 9 pm

So I've never written fanfic before, but apparently, I'm pissed at Jane. Please be kind, but also let me know if I should continue. I have a few other rules and scenes in mind. I have no idea if this will grow into anything more. Constructive feedback would be great.

___

Maura was ruminating. It was never good when she couldn’t get through her Saturday morning yoga session, but these days, it was becoming the norm. So after she finished her cup of tea, she locked herself in her yoga room, rolled out her yoga mat, and settled in with herself.

She had rules. They were new, and it was hard to keep to them some days, but they were there because she knew better. She knows she deserves more. She may not have had an attentive family growing up, but she knows her worth, or at least she’s gotten better at reminding herself. She knows what they have goes beyond friendship. She also knows it will never be more. Jane just keeps holding back the final piece of the puzzle. She could resign herself to a lifetime of this sexually charged and emotionally mediocre but never fulfilling relationship OR she could take a step back from Jane and a step forward for herself. But last night she forgot. She forgot the first rule she put in place almost a month ago.

1 - Don’t respond to Jane after 9 pm

Recognizing the anxious feeling that started in her chest, she told herself that it was a slip-up and it wouldn’t happen again. But she couldn’t help but grab her phone and reread last night’s messages.

10:36: J - Hey, you still up?

10:42: M - Just finished Bass’ enrichment and heading up to bed.

It had been such a simple response, it just floated out of her fingertips. She was so used to just always responding to Jane.

10:43: J- Enrichment? You can just say that you were in the sandbox hiding food for Bass to find.

10:44: M- Fine yes, I was reading his namesake’s new foreword in “Skeletal biology and bioarchaeology of the Northwestern Plains” while bass dug up the cactus leaves and strawberries I hid in his sandbox.

10:44: J- You make my night of watching the Sox lose seem like an exciting night

10:45: M- What can I say? We love to party over here.

10:45: J- I don’t know when it started, but you’ve gotten really good at sarcasm

10:46: M- You must be rubbing off on me ;-)

As Maura reread that line, she couldn’t help but cringe a little. She really couldn’t stop herself from going there last night, it was yet another small slip up, that showed how their friendship was always a little more than friendship.

10:59: J- I feel like I haven’t seen you at all this week, is the morgue backlogged?

11:04: M- It’s no busier than usual. Actually a little less so without a murder yet this month.

11:04: J- Give it time, Boston can’t go more than 2 weeks without a new murder. Have you been in court on other cases this week? I went to see if you could grab lunch a few times and I never caught you.

11:05: M- We must have just missed each other, I did lunch out of the office a few times.

11:07: J- You going to fancy places without me now?

11:09: M - Really Jane, any place that doesn’t allow jeans, you label as fancy. But no, a friend from my residency, Erica, did a few guest lectures at BCU. I caught one of her lectures and we had lunch a few times.

11:09: J- I see how it is, replacing me with other genii.

Reading this for a second time feels like a needle in her chest, last night it paralyzed her, she didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t replacing Jane, per se. This was also the point last night where she realized her mistake in responding to Jane’s late text. Even now, she still isn’t sure she handled it correctly.

11:18: J- Any plans for tomorrow?

11:20 M- While genii is correct, you can just say geniuses, you don’t have to try so hard. And, no I’m not replacing you. I was planning on browsing Newbury St in the afternoon.

11:21 J- Great, so I’ll pick you up at 2, I’ll carry the bags and then we can hit up Eataly for dinner? We haven’t been there in a while.

11:25 M- That’s okay Jane, I know you don’t enjoy my long shopping ventures, you don’t have to come. And I’ve got dinner plans, I’m sorry. But I’ll see you Sunday night for dinner.

After that, it was radio silence from Jane. Even after all these years, all the social cues Jane’s helped her learn, she still doesn’t know how to read the silence. Last night she was torn. She wanted to hang out with Jane but didn’t. Now she had to live with rejecting Jane’s plans, and what felt like a rejection of Jane herself.

That’s what brought her here, meditating as the sun was rising, or trying to anyway. Maura shook herself out and realized she was going to need a little help this morning clearing her mind. So she opened up the Calm app and resigned herself to a guided meditation. Maura went through the motions of her day, finishing off with an overzealous stop at Diane Von Furstenberg’s on Newbury just because. She still hadn’t heard from Jane and was trying to tell herself it was okay, they were okay, they were just both adjusting to this new normal. Maura hadn’t figured out what this new normal was supposed to be, but she knew she was unhappy with how Jane and she were a couple in every way, except in the way that mattered. Their friendship was unhealthy as it was. If they were only going to be friends, Maura was going to start making space in her life for other friends and possibly a lover or two. She can’t pinpoint when it happened, but her very active and healthy sex life seemed to slowly dry up the closer she and Jane got.

______________

Dressed in her new Midi dress, and a brand new pair of St. Laurent sandals, she waived to Angela across the courtyard as she headed off to meet Erica. Driving to the Chart House, she couldn’t help but reflect and acknowledge that Eric’s timing was creating a good distraction for her. She and Erica had done their residencies together, they hadn’t been best of friends, but she was always warm to Maura and tried to include Maura in her social circle. A few years after Maura moved to Boston, she reached out when she landed in Providence doing a Post Doc Fellowship at Brown. They’d do dinner a few times a year, trade interesting journal articles, nothing special, but it was nice to have a friend outside of BPD. When BCU invited Erica to guest lecture for the week, Maura decided she’d just drop in on the first lecture, which led to a couple of lunches earlier in the week, and a celebration dinner as Erica was just offered a tenure track faculty position starting in the fall. Pulling up to the valet station, she decided that this was just what she needed to expand her social circle a bit. She’d enjoy her evening, celebrate Erica’s new position and enjoy the late spring evening.

______________

Like clockwork on Sunday around noontime, the Rizzoli’s started to filter into her home. Angela always led the parade, bringing groceries and starting the prep process. Over the next couple of hours Jane, her brothers, little TJ, Frost, Korsak, Kiki, and even Susie sometimes would wander in and fill her house. When she invited Angela to live in the guest house almost 4 years ago, she never thought it was going to be permanent, nor did she think she’d enjoy having her there as much as she does. For all of Angela’s meddling and snooping in Jane’s life, she’d been nothing but respectful of Maura’s boundaries and privacy. Maura treasured how their patchwork family considered her house their gathering place, when it was full, it felt like the warm home she yearned for as a child. The amazing dinners, even if sometimes unhealthy, were a vehicle for that love and inclusion Maura had spent over 30 years searching for. She’d found it with Jane and her family, but she still craves more. She wants more than a patchwork family, she wants her own family.

As Maura was finishing up working in the garden beds Tommy and TJ arrived. By the time she’d entered the kitchen freshly showered and ready for Angela to put her to work, she saw Jane and Frankie had joined Tommy in watching a basketball game. Maura greeted everyone while looking at the TV, she noticed no one was wearing a green jersey so she knew Boston wasn’t playing, which usually boded well for her couch and rugs. TJ was in his high chair feeding himself some plain pasta while Angela sang to him. Maura and Angela quickly fell into their rhythm with this week’s batch of Ragu simmering on the stove. By the time the lasagna was in the oven, Frost, Korsak, and Kiki had arrived and, Angela and Maura joined the gang in the living room to snack on some arancini before dinner.

While Maura and Angela always cooked, the most relaxing part of Sunday dinners was when Jane and Maura cleaned up. Never fail the boys would head out not long after dessert and the games were over. And Jane in her way of appreciating her mother would kick her back to the guest house for an early night, while she took charge of cleaning up the kitchen.

“Another glass of wine while you work?” Jane asked Maura while grabbing the bottle

Maura just put her glass in front of Jane while nodding for more. The pots and pans were washed, the dishwasher had already started its cycle and Jane and Maura were moving to the living room to straighten up before settling in to catch up on their week. Normally all this happened with a comfortable level of conversation between them, but tonight, there was a little more silence than usual. With blankets folded and the remote located, they settled into the couch, each sitting against an arm, facing each other.

“You know mom asked me how your date went last night, I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone” Jane started.

“It wasn’t a date, I told you I was going to dinner with Erica, she’s just accepted an offer at BCU.”

“No, you said you had lunch with Erica” with a slight hint of annoyance that only Maura could pick up on. “I didn’t know you guys were doing dinner, I thought you might have been hiding a new boyfriend from me”

“No, no new boyfriend Jane. Although that would be nice or maybe a girlfriend, I haven’t dated a woman since I first moved to Boston”

Jane nodded, her eyes a little bigger than normal, sometimes Maura could swear Jane forgot she was pansexual.

“What about you? You seeing anyone new?” Maura asked, mostly to take the heat off of her. She didn’t know what was worse, talking about her lackluster dating life or trying to appear supportive of Jane's dating life when all she wanted was to be the person dating Jane.

“No, although Frost mentioned his old college roommate is single. I can’t believe I’m even entertaining the idea of letting him set me up.”

“You should at least meet him, if Frost is setting you up, I’m sure he’s a good man.” Maura grinned through a fake smile.

“I don’t know” Jane responded, Maura saw the walls going up “ I don’t want to talk about dating. Is Erica going to move to Boston? You know you’ve never introduced us, are you scared I’ll embarrass you?” Jane half-joked, changing the topic.

“No Jane, you have to stop with the self-deprecating humor, you know I’m not embarrassed by you. And yes, she needs to finish teaching a summer seminar at Brown, and then she’ll move up here.” The next words fell out of her mouth as soon as they occurred to her “I should see if she wants to come to next Sunday’s dinner.” Seeing Jane’s small annoyance grow into jealously, she redirected. “She can meet everyone, but please don’t interrogate her for college stories. You already know I was weird and awkward, you don’t need more things to tease me about!”

Jane took the bait “Ohhhh, I didn’t even think of that! I wonder if she’s got pictures!!

Maura just rolled her eyes, relieved that the tension was broken. She really did want Jane and everyone else to accept Erica, she remembered what it was like moving back to Boston and not having anyone. The rest of the night passed quickly, Maura kept the topics to mostly work or Boston politics. Jane could rant about local politics for hours and it didn’t put Maura at risk of gazing at Jane like she wanted to take her upstairs. A little before 11, Jane sighed and made her excuses about getting back to Jo before she relieved herself on the rug again. Pre-rules Maura might have made some comment about how much wine Jane had and how she should stay the night. Post-rules Maura kept her mouth shut. As Maura locked the door behind Jane, she couldn’t help but hope that just maybe, with some delicate balancing, she’d be able to move on from Jane and keep her as a friend.

________

Later that week Maura found herself at the Robber with the whole group, even Susie joined them. Maura was finding her new footing and it felt nice, it gave her a boost of confidence. Jane no longer acted as her interpreter when Frost made a joke, Korsak no longer felt the need to censor his dirty jokes and Susie actually had a pretty foul mouth once she had a few drinks. More than ever she noticed how breaking down her walls, allowed others to break their own down around her. She didn’t feel like Queen of the Dead anymore, she was Maura. As the night stretched on the table shuffled around a bit, Korsak left to meet Kiki, Frankie and Nina joined, Susie went home and Frost tried his luck with a pretty blonde at the bar.

Maura didn’t even notice how slowly Jane crept to her, close enough that her side was against Maura and her arm draped behind Maura across the back of the booth. But she did notice when the vibe between Jane and her started to mirror that of Frankie and Nina, right down to Jane ordering Maura another drink before checking with her. Maura and Jane were a couple, they couldn’t help it. The small touches, the laughing into each other’s sides, even the stolen glances. It no longer felt like hanging out, it felt like they were on a double date. It was too much for Maura, she excused herself to the bathroom to regroup. Looking at herself in the mirror, she scolded herself. She had to get out of there, she needed more distance. How could she possibly have her own relationship if she always ended up with Jane?

“I didn’t realize how late it had was,” Maura said marching up to the booth. “I’m going to head home. I’ll see you all in the morning? Those cultures should be ready by 10, I’ll page you when I have the report ready.” All of a sudden Maura infused a formalness into the air that wasn’t there before. Frankie raised his eyebrows but said nothing. It was weird for Maura to leave without Jane, or at least inviting Jane back to her house.

“I’ll leave with you” Jane started to get up.

“Oh no, that’s fine, I’m parked just across the street. I’ll be fine, stay, enjoy the rest of your beer” Maura responded with a slightly stern note. Jane nodded, “Party pooper, leaving me with these love doves” gesturing to Frankie and Nina, while they responded with mock offense. As Maura walked away, she didn’t see Frankie lean in and whisper to Jane.

Once Maura settled into bed for the evening she decided it was time for her to get out there. Even if it meant her joining one of those annoying dating sites. It was better to be trying than pining. Last week Erica had suggested How About We, it was worth at least signing up. She decided that it couldn’t hurt more than she was already hurting. While she hadn’t opened up to Erica about how frustrated she was with her’s and Jane’s relationship, she had expressed a desire to get out there more and Erica had offered a few bits of advice. If she couldn’t go to Jane about this, it was nice to at least have another friend to commiserate with about dating. As soon as she completed her profile, her phone beeped and a notification popped up on the screen.

11:17 PM

Jane Rizzoli

You awake?

Clicking her screen off, Maura put her phone on her nightstand and turned over for what would be a very uncomfortable night’s sleep.

#rizzoli and isles #rizzoli & isles #fanfic #Fanfiction #rizzles #rizzles fic #jane rizzoli #maura isles

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keilemlucent · 4 years

Text

lavender latte: vi

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || chapter 5 || chapter 7 ||

masterlist

word count: 6.8k

finally. god.

warnings: none really! reader’s foot booted, but that’s about it.

---

well. here we are. thank u to everyone for reading this sweet, sweet story. we’re not through it yet, but i’m happy to offer a meal with this chapter. enjoy lovies. beta’ed by the lovely love @keiqos.

||||||||||||||||

You had several problems after returning to your apartment from the hospital. One of your coworkers was nice enough to drive you and your things back, but quickly the niceties stopped and your vague hell began.

Exclusively being on crutches sucked. Navigating your apartment and trying to live somewhat normally was a massive pain. Even just showering was a task that sapped most of your energy. Standing one-legged and balancing made your body ache with a deep soreness, especially the first few days you returned.

This was not even to mention the unpleasant dreams you were having.

‘Unpleasant’ & ‘dreams’ were a nice way of putting it.

You could recall that during your first night in the hospital, one of your doctors told you of the possibility of experiencing a few post-traumatic symptoms. Considering how out of it you were at the time, it was unsurprising how you brushed it off.

The reality was much harder to ignore.

...

Cars revving.

Shouting.

Shattering—

Your eyes flashed open, chest heaving and brow covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

Fuck that.

It was the same dream, an obvious recreation of the stimuli of the event. Though it was scattered in your memory, the dreams made it horribly vivid and vibrant despite lacking detail. The sounds and smells of that day clung to you as you shook your head, forcing yourself into wakefulness.

Your comforter was thrown from your body, and you shivered as cold air rushed over you. As jarred as you were, you still swung your legs off the bed, readjusting your boot and your aching leg, half-heartedly glaring at your crutches.

Your apartment wasn’t terribly set up to get around with your limited mobility, but your difficulty functioning didn’t help your overall mental state. Everything was just harder with the boot on, and you did your best to work with it.

Being locked up in your apartment added to the hellishness of it. You were so used to the stimuli and social environment of the teashop, it felt like a cold water shock when you were confined to your home entirely alone except for your cats.

You could, of course, try and venture out into the world. But, it was still winter and the ice-covered sidewalks didn’t seem like the best place to try and crutch around.

Within the first day or two, you resigned yourself to your three-week fate of being holed up.

You had a laundry list of things you could do. Shows and movies to watch, places in your house to clean, your cats to pet, but—

You still had far too much time on your hands.

A lot of your newfound time in the first few days was spent on your back, leg propped up, and draped in ice bags, musing over Hawks.

Hawks.

Holy fuck.

You couldn’t avoid it, couldn’t stop it. Just thinking about him made every part of you swirl and thrum like you were listening to some sort of contently-chorded song and you were more than happy to play it on repeat until your ears bled. Maybe that feeling towards Hawks had always been there (it had), but now you accepted it and stopped holding yourself back as much.

You never thought the idea of someone squeezing your shoulder would send you into literal fits of giggles and butterflies, but boy, did it. Not to mention all of the careful touches and gentle words you two had shared in the aftermath of the attack, though the memories were hazy. What you did remember and cherish was the warmth of him, quirk activated or not. Each time you recalled it, your gut fluttered and your hands twitched.

Your ceiling was the most interesting place to look in your apartment. The plain texture was the perfect canvas to allow your memories of the sweet interactions the two of you had shared to play like comforting reruns. The commercial breaks of these daydreams were the texts exchanged between you and Hawks.

Keigo couldn’t stop thinking about you either.

It wasn’t as distracting as it once was, as he had been more liberal with letting himself text you. The high number of messages between the two of you was maybe ridiculous, but he was a fast texter and you seemed to have plenty of jokes and banter for him to share in.

As good as the texting was, it was also nice to check-in on you and your recovery. You seemed more annoyed than anything else, but Keigo wasn’t so much of an idiot as to think you weren’t in any pain or struggling at all. Though you didn’t explicitly tell him or show him, he was familiar with the pains of healing and could infer some things about your state.

Keigo tried to brighten your day as he could. ‘Hawks’ still had plenty of hero work to do, especially with the information extracted from the recently detained syndicate members. Despite this, he took as much time as he could to stop and send you little snippets and messages which hopefully would help you smile a little.

It did, of course. Just talking to Hawks did.

You had moments of awareness a few times a day where you had to remind yourself that, yes, (Y/N), you were just casual friends and deeply enamored with the number two hero and that sentiment was at least partially returned.

You had a lot of time to wonder to what extent the feelings were returned. They obviously weren’t entirely one-sided, right?

It was completely possible that they were, but you did your best to shake off the thought.

It was more likely that notorious bachelor and flirt, pro hero Hawks, just wanted a fuck with some feelings. To fuck with some feelings, right?

Though, he did say that he cares about you.

But, you definitely can care about someone you only want to fuck.

You wished you had some sort of definitive answer. The murkiness of it all just made the sweetness of the past and the texts of the present seem a bit sour.

Confessing to Hawks was daunting and terrifying. Not to mention, it felt a bit juvenile, all of it. People weren’t supposed to get melty crushes like this past high school, right? Especially not ones this deep on someone who couldn’t possibly feel the same as you, right?

During one of these moments of uncomfortable clarity, your phone beeped as you rested on the couch. Despite not even seeing the message, you knew it would be Hawks.

You grabbed your phone, clicking open the newest message.

[birdboy]: hey hey angel

[birdboy]: look at this fucker i found

The image attached was a photo of Hawks standing next to one of his own billboards, advertising some sort of sports drink. The photo had obviously been taken with a timer, the angle of the photo tilted as Hawks and the billboard were quite small in the frame. It added to the charm of the photo, the way Hawks was holding a feather blade to the throat of his own advert. You could even tell through the pixels he was wearing a wide smile as he did so, wings spread behind him

You snorted.

You and Hawks are just friends, you reminded yourself.

[you]: looks like a punk bitch 2 me dude

[you]: kinda uncanny resemblance tho

[birdboy]: i agree

[birdboy]: he’s hot tho

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you readjusted on the couch. You weren’t disagreeing, not at all.

[you]: not wrong

[you]: still, punk bitch

[birdboy]: :^(

[birdboy]: feelings = hurt

[birdboy]: please tell me the photo is funny

[birdboy]: it took like five tries

[you]: very funny, im gonna save it and sell when im short on cash

[birdboy]: my publicist will blacklist u

[you]: i’d like to see them try

[birdboy]: is that a challenge angel????

[you]: a promise

There was a break in the messages, though Hawks appeared to be typing.

[birdboy]: unrelated but

[birdboy]: how are you doing?

You paused, taking stock of your disheveled, sleepy self. You were only a few days out of the hospital and you definitely could’ve been worse off.

[you]: im okay!!!

[you]: sore and tired honestly

[birdboy]: :^(

[birdboy]: i'm glad to hear its not worse at least

[birdboy]: ill send u lots more embarrassing photos

[birdboy]: a million angel

[you]: my hero <3

It all was surreal and mentally impossible to avoid.

You really, really liked Hawks and had for a long while.

...

Keigo spent most of the rest of the day busy with patrols and work for the Commission, much to his chagrin. He hardly got a chance to text you. It reminded him of his reality as a pro, his fast-paced nature and how he truly couldn’t slow down, not at that point anyway. He had a brand and habitual way of being that was standard. Even for you, he wasn’t sure if he could slow down, even if he wanted to or needed to.

The idea scared him, pieces of his reality.

But, at the same time, Keigo hadn’t ever felt like this before. The weird, but incredibly alluring and comfortable heat in his chest made him feel like he’d do anything for you. Fuck, he’d fly to the stars and move them if he could, if that’s what it took.

Maybe he even wanted to.

Keigo couldn’t become a different person, for anyone, that’s not how things worked. But if getting closer to you meant... adjusting, he could do that. Easily. He was adaptable as all hell and he’d be glad to use it for something that made him feel good instead of hollow.

Keigo busily flew the day away. As the afternoon turned to night, the sky going pink and purple with dusk, he settled on top of a taller office building. It looked down on a street market, its smells and sounds wafting up to him on his perch.

It gave him an idea.

A good one.

You were inspecting your fridge with a grimace. Balancing on your crutches and being counter-weighed by the boot on your foot made your angry stance a whole lot less intimidating, but it was the sentiment that counted.

Several days post-hospital had done a number on your food supply. The fridge was empty except for a few nearly expired items and condiments. The dry shelves weren’t looking much better.

The shrill sound of your ringtone from the couch made your jump, nearly falling. You teetered back over to it, eye-widening at the caller ID.

[birdboy] calling...

Hawks had never called you before.

You quickly picked up the call, “...Hello?”

“Hey, angel!” Hawks was chipper on the other line. “What’re you up to?”

“Currently?” You hummed, turning forlornly to your kitchen. “Thinking about how I either need to order groceries or order dinner before committing to my couch for the rest of the night. Why? You don’t usually call.”

“I don’t,” Hawks’s smile was apparent in his voice, even through the receiver. “But, I had an idea.”

“Shoot.”

“I might just be near a super good takeout spot. How hard would it be for me to convince you to let me drop some food by your place? My treat.”

You didn’t reply for a second.

Stunned.

“Are you sure?”

“More than, dove. I’m off the rest of the night, anyways.”

Oh.

That gave you an idea—

An idea that would surely push the envelope of your feelings.

Let it.

“Okay, I’m in. One condition.” You bit your lip, willing your stomach to seize fluttering.

“You name it. This place is really good and—”

“I have been going a little stir crazy, and,” You cut him off, squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation, “how hard would it be to convince you to come over and stay awhile?”

Hawks was silent.

Your stomach dropped.

“Wait, I-I mean—” You stuttered, trying to gather yourself, but this time Hawks cut you off.

“Like, to hang out?” Hawks sounded shocked on the other line.

“Yes.”

You kept your breathing even and prayed it didn’t read over the call.

“God, dove. I’d love to. I can be over in like ten—”

“Wait,” You fisted the fabric of your sweats. “Can I have a little more time? For myself and my apartment.”

Hawks chuckled on the other end of the line, “Sure, angel. Thirty sound better?”

You let out a sigh of relief, falling on to the back of your couch, “Sounds perfect.”

Keigo decided to tease a bit, his heart pounding in his chest almost painfully. He knew from day one that you were bold, but this was a treat. He had to spare back, just a little.

“Though, dove, I’m sure you look more than perfect yourself. You always do.” He didn’t wait for your response, either out of fear of what you’d say or being a bit smug, he wasn’t sure.

Keigo hung up the call, burying his face in his gloves to try and stifle the blush on his cheeks, though it hardly helped.

It didn’t have to.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Thirty minutes later and you were mostly sorted.

You managed to throw yourself into the shower, tossing on something half-way decent, but still comfortable. Had to keep it casual.

Crutching around your apartment, you picked up what clutter you could, mind spinning. Hawks coming over to your fucking apartment filled you with elated, and yet terrifying, anxiety. A few times while cleaning, you legitimately paused to muffle quiet screams in your hand at the prospect.

You felt like you were going to burst.

Keigo did too, notably.

He took the time to fly all the way back to his apartment, take the world’s fastest shower, and throw on some clothes other than his costume. Going back to get food, his hands shook as he handed the bills to the starry-eyed vendor who he’d just written an autograph for.

You’d sent a quick text just before he’d left with a description of your balcony, so neither of you would have to figure out how to let him in through the roof.

As he flew to your place, Keigo felt like he was going to implode.

He didn’t ‘hang out’ with people. Nope, far too busy for anything like that. He was a compulsory workaholic, it was part of his mental brand of being (or, mental ‘branding’, maybe). The closest he got to casual time with folks was the preamble before a hookup or the time he had spent at the tea shop with you. Actually going to spend time with someone, casually, and it was you? It was all new and terrifying.

But, above all? Exciting.

The whole situation opened many doors, all of which Keigo pictured and picked apart as he neared your apartment. There were so many potential situations to appraise and plan for, he felt overwhelmed by it all.

The opportunity to spend some... time with you outside of the tea shop was a necessity, right? Keigo’s original idea had been to drop off some food and banter for a while, but the idea of spending one of his precious nights off with you was so much better than he could’ve expected.

Not to mention the warm bit of validation sparked by the fact that you asked him to come over, you wanted him around —

It felt nice.

So nice.

You paused, hearing telltale scuffing of someone on your balcony.

Oh my god.

He’s here.

Hawks is here.

You gulped, shaking your head.

Don’t you dare chicken out now. Commit, dammit. You’re just... hanging out. With your friend.

Yeah.

A knock on the glass pulled you to the door of your balcony, hobbling to slide it open on your crutches.

Hawks was happy to push the door the rest of the way open, stepping inside with a bag of takeout slung on his arm.

Your mouth parched, seeing him once again in civilian clothing. Was it... normal to get turned on by the fact that he looked normal?

As Hawks stepped into your humble apartment, wings tucked tightly to his back, you drank him in, hair ruffled with his clear visor placed on top of his head to push back the windswept front pieces. He wore a white sweater and black trousers complete with heavy black boots that were quickly untied and left by the door.

“You’re staring, you know,” Hawks interrupted your thoughts as you straightened up on your crutches.

Recover.

“Can’t prove that,” You tutted, crutching away from the door. “Also, welcome. Watch out for my cats, they might try to get a mouthful of your feathers.”

“Duly noted,” Hawks clicked his tongue, standing up and following you as you meander to the kitchen.

Keigo had to admit that your apartment was relatively... cute. He was used to his own, seldom-used digs. He had a big, uncomfortably nice penthouse with too many disused rooms and too much open space. Fixtures and furniture that were too expensive, probably, but it had been far easier to hire some big-name interior designer and not bother with dealing with it himself. Keigo had trouble keeping many ‘personal’ possessions, anyways. His training with the Commission made him almost revile the thought of keeping unnecessary, material objects, sans a few.

Your home was the exact opposite.

Maybe it was that he didn’t know how to have a personal touch that it made your cozy little apartment feel so full of them.

Little photos and artworks on walls or in frames caught Keigo’s eyes as he followed you to the kitchen. He took note of several blankets on the couch, catching sight of the plushie he’d given you at the hospital. Even the lighting of the apartment was personal, diffuse. With how easily overstimulated you became, it made sense that you’d keep your apartment so ambiently dim.

“So, first off, thank you for coming by and delivering dinner. I am eternally grateful,” You bowed dramatically, leaning to flail out a crutch at the motion. “Second, as payment, I’ll make you a drink. Maybe not with my quirk, but I have some of my old tea blends here.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Keigo shrugged, setting the takeout down on the counter while his ever-present grin nearly hurt his face from how relentless it was. “And tea? Show me what you’ve got. Or, should I trust you to pick one out for me?”

You hummed, clicking your tongue before moving across the kitchen to a different set of cabinets, “I think I’ve actually got a good one for you. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Lay on the details, angel,” Keigo hummed, leaning against the lip of the counter.

You did have the perfect blend in mind. It wasn’t too old, hardly stale. It would pair as well as a nice tea could with fried takeout, judging by the smells wafting from the bag on the counter.

“It’s one I made for a brunch we catered a few months back. It’s just a white tea raspberry blend, but it’s not delicate. It should stand up to any sort of food you’ve brought. Thank you, by the way.”

Setting your crutches down, you started to push yourself up onto the counter without thinking much of it, booted-foot going limp off the edge.

“Of course, anytime— woah, angel,” His voice choked as you wavered on the edge of the counter, off-balance.

There was a short flap of wings and rush of air as you tried to rebalance, cursing the deadweight of your leg.

If Hawks hadn’t been directly behind you, you probably would’ve eaten shit.

You turned yourself as far as you could, cheeks going hot.

Hawks’ face was just inches away from yours. That was even to mention the hands hovering around your waist, chest brushing up against your back.

“S-sorry,” Did he just fucking stutter? “You looked like you were about to eat shit there.”

The words hardly reach you, you were too busy actively telling yourself not to stare at his pretty, plump lips because that is not something friends do. Not the can of worms you needed to open, right?

“I-,” You turned away from him, stretching up to the tea tin that had been out of your reach. “To think you’ve saved me from falling while reaching for loose leaf tea, twice.”

“All in a day's work,” His hands twitched around your sides but hardly shifted until you began to descend from the countertop. In fact, Hawks hardly moved away at all until you were situated back on your crutches.

You pretended not to notice the flush on his cheeks.

Maybe, it was a bit too close. Definitely too close, and bad circumstances, but god, you wanted more and more of him.

You swallowed your desires down, cracking a smile.

Be normal.

Be cool!

You shook the tin, leaves and dried fruit rattling inside, “So, cream or sugar?”

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

The two of you ended up on the couch, picking through the several boxes of takeout that Hawks had brought. Most of dinner was spent bantering back and forth about one of Hawks’ newest modeling contracts and if it was ‘ethical’ for him to wear his own feathers for the sake of ‘fashion’?

“So, off-topic from insulting my employment ethics, ” Hawks spoke while munching on a piece of chicken. “You surviving?”

“Barely,” You laughed, setting down your utensils with a huff. “I forget how isolation makes you go a little crazy. I’m running out of dumb shit to watch and even dumber shit to send you.”

Hawks snorted, setting down his own box, having had his fill, “I know you are more than adept at combing the internet for more good shit to send me.”

“I mean, maybe, but you keep sending me juicy photos of you being a dumbass. They’re hard to show up, you know?” You side-eyed him at the birdish tilt of his head.

“You don’t need to show me up, angel,” Hawks reminded you, some feathers packing up what was left of the food. “Though, it’s fun. You’re fun.”

You internally winced at the sentiment but forced the smile on your face not to waver.

It was a needed reminder.

This close to Hawks, you could fucking smell him. Maybe it was a little creepy, but you remembered it so well, after the villain attack. The scent of some sort of spicy cologne and old sweat, but it was hardly unpleasant. No, it was intoxicating. It made you feel almost fuzzy, as it wafted around like some reminder that Hawks and you were so close.

You thanked the stars that the apartment lacked the stimuli to make your quirk activate on its own.

Your couch wasn’t very large, and it seemed even smaller with how Hawks had laid his wings over it. They were propped up over the back, outstretched just the smallest bit to relieve some pressure. All the same, the massive feathers made you feel minuscule.

Even the way he was sitting was intoxicating and a bit gut-wrenching. It was casual, the way he leaned back against the far cushions, legs somewhat spread with an ankle over the opposite knee. The pose oozed a weird, untouchable confidence that you hadn’t seen in Hawks in months, maybe ever. At least, not directed at you.

Despite the warm nature of his words, he seemed guarded.

It made your throat dry.

Keigo was quite on edge. He hadn’t meant to get so close in the kitchen, really, he hadn’t. But, seeing you dangling off the edge of the counter like that, even if it was harmless and mundane, made his entire body and mind react before he could think.

But, you weren’t in any danger. Even if you had been, Keigo would’ve been there to catch you.

He’d put himself out of it, overthinking the whole thing. You were fine. Safe.

The other part of his mind spun with how he wanted to be so much closer.

Feeling the warmth of your body, the lines of your waist, the thrum of your heart and breath so fucking close—

It was a lot.

But, he was well-trained and not going to choke.

He’d shoved himself to the opposite side of the couch to you, keeping his boundaries up, strong as steel and hard as carbon.

Of course, Keigo knew the feelings were mutual. That didn’t mean that none of this was terrifying in the same way that it was exhilarating.

As much as he wanted to be closer (so much closer), Keigo remained careful. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was ruin something before it had even truly happened.

You sat back against the couch, repositioning your injured leg on the coffee table, “So, thoughts.”

“On?”

You didn’t look at Keigo as you replied, rather glared at your TV, “What to watch?”

“Oh,” You could hear the smile in his voice. “We’re watching something?”

“You tell me. I imagine you don’t get lots of time to do this sort of thing, do you?”

Hawks didn’t reply for a moment, sitting deeper into the couch, “Not really.”

“Then indulge, tailfeathers,” You tossed the remote in his lap. “Anything, go for it. Go nuts.”

Hawks nearly put on watching a reality cooking show, before you said that that was off-limits, per an odd conversation from way back when where he had admitted to be hot for Gordon Ramsey. He had been a little too vague as to whether or not he would pop a boner from Gordon’s filmed degradations. And truthfully, if anything was gonna give Hawks a hard-on tonight, you were determined for it not to be competitive cooking TV. Maybe, just maybe, you’d rather it be you.

...

Eventually, he settled on some psychological thriller you’d never heard of.

Keigo hadn’t either.

He was glad that you couldn’t hear his heart in the same way he heard your’s pounding.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you crutch around, turning the already dim lights lower.

Calm the down, Hawks.

Calm the fuck down.

He’d never even done this before. Keigo wasn’t sure how to handle the situation, even if it was as simple as watching a film.

It would’ve been simpler if the tension in the air was thick and foggy, clouding over his consciousness as he tried to focus on anything other than your nearness and how much he wanted to drag you into his lap.

…

His feathers fluttered as you plopped back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over your lap and offering one to him.

He took it, settling it over his lap as the movie went on.

You weren’t an idiot. You could feel the blood rushing in your hot ears as you fisted the blanket over your legs.

Your mind spoke a lot louder than you wanted it to:

Just fucking do it.

Do what exactly?

The paramount thought that was causing anxiety to twirl in your gut.

Maybe, you could just tell him how you felt.

Maybe just hold his hand.

Maybe get fucking rejected because he’s out of your league and out of bounds.

Maybe even kiss him—

You were torturing yourself, the movie just background noise to your internal dilemma.

You’d asked him to your apartment and Hawks had bought you fucking dinner. That wasn’t a lot, sure, maybe, but there were also the months of lead-up.

There were all of the cold mornings and cheeky grins you gave each other in the waking coffee shop. There were the fuzzy jokes, the lingering glances, and the tight feeling you got in your chest whenever he graced you with mere eye contact.

It felt like you were already in too deep to not be honest about how you felt towards him. Fuck, you’d been in too deep for months. Every time you made him a damn drink, you wanted to just drink him in. You were all fluttering hearts and sweet smiles for him in a way that you couldn’t suppress, only squash in moments of such intense anxiety like this—

“Hey, dove?” It was Hawks, shocking you from your turmoil with a soft voice. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, I’m good.” Your reply was curt and clipped.

Make a decision now.

Pull the bandage off, (Y/N).

It’ll just be worse, the longer you wait.

Maybe Hawks did just want to fuck with some cute feelings, the seemingly longing looks be damned. Yeah, you liked him way more than for just a fuck, that was obvious and unavoidable. Besides, it’d be better to know than to not know, right?

“You sure? If the movie’s too much, we can turn it off,” Hawks sounded genuinely concerned from the other side of the couch.

...

You committed, taking a deep breath and turning to Hawks.

“It’s not that,” You looked at the couch between the two of you, tracing the seam of the cushion. “The movie’s fine.”

“Then, you’re not feeling great for another reason?” Keigo asked, feeling each of your breaths and heartbeats like bass drums in his ears. He hides the shaking of his hands by crossing them over his chest. “You can talk to me, (Y/N).”

“Can I?” You asked, shaking your head and laughing at yourself. “Hawks, I need to do something really fucking stupid.”

Holy fuck.

Are they—

“What’s that?”

His voice was smaller than he wanted it to be.

“Fuck, Hawks,” You finally forced yourself to look at him, taking in his guarded posture and pained expression.

Your heart sank.

“I just need to be honest with you.”

Hawks’s brow soured, lips twitching, “Go for it, dove.”

You laughed, maybe trying to soothe yourself, “It’s probably is just, so fucking stupid, all things considered.”

You ran a hand through your hair, biting your lip between sentences and willing yourself to just get it out—

“Hawks, I like you. A lot.”

He still didn’t say anything and you could feel shards of your heart drive into your lungs.

You forced yourself to look up at him, smiling with the slight release of tension in your sternum, however painful.

“I know, we’re just friends, right? I’m just the barista and you’re my special, pro hero regular. I know I’m overstepping right now, but it feels unfair for me to not be honest with you.”

Keigo already knew this, right? He knew how you felt, fuck, he’d felt how you felt. He just wasn’t prepared for the exploding and thrumming in his chest when you told him with your sweet lips and kind words.

Why did it feel so different when you were smiling at him like you were in pain and telling him so fucking honestly with your words?

It was the thing about you that he admired the most, that candor in your tone and the grin in your cheeks as you spoke so.

But, your smile was falling, leaving watery-looking eyes.

“Hawks, I like you. Way too much for friends, and I needed to say something.”

Keigo’s mouth was dry.

For the first time in so fucking long, he was genuinely speechless.

He couldn’t recall a time in his life anyone had spoken so earnestly to him, just you. Just you, you, you— casually, over and over again, you talked to him like he was something real and something to be cared for. It was subtle, but it was one of the many things that made him want you closer.

Yet, despite all his bundled up desires, he was lost for words.

“I’m sorry—”

He stopped you, “(Y/N), please don’t apologize.”

“But—”

“(Y/N).”

Hawks’ voice was sharp. It made the expression on your face rapidly fall.

He looked at you with rapt attention, arms uncrossing from his chest.

He turned to you on the couch, feathers fluffed up and twitching.

Your nose stung as Hawks, all pretty golds and ambers, shook out an exhale and balled up the blanket in his lap.

“Hawks—”

“Why would you need to be sorry?”

Hawks looked at you with wide eyes, brow creased. His shoulders were... shaking?

Your head spun, leg aching, “... What do you mean?”

Hawks finally met your gaze, giving you the sweetest, saddest smile you’d ever seen, “Dove, you’re acting like there’s no way I could feel the same way.”

Every cell in your body stuttered.

“You’ve done it since we’ve met.”

Hawks scooted closer on the cushions of the couch.

“You’ve always acted like there’s just no way I could like you, give a shit about you—”

He moved a bit closer.

You couldn’t make yourself move.

“You want to know the truth?”

You creaked out a nod.

Keigo couldn’t help the way he went to cup your cheeks in his hands, thumbs rubbing along the apples of your cheeks. You lean into his touch, just like at the hospital, despite the blend of absolute fear and confusion in your expression.

“How could I not care about you, dove?” And it finally came out. “I care about so much— dove, I don’t know what to fucking say.”

That made you speechless, lips parting just the slightest bit as Hawks continued, losing composure with his morphing expressions.

He wet his lips, swallowing, “Dove, I’ve never—any of this. I-I don’t know what o-or how to say any of what I want to right now.”

You speak before thinking.

“Show me, if you don’t know how to say it.”

The idea seemed so novel as Keigo ran a thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it from between your teeth. He met your gaze with the gooiest, sweetest look you’d ever seen in your life, “You want me to?”

“Please.”

It was all the two of you had wanted for a while now, right?

“If I kiss you, I’m not ever gonna be able to make this go away, am I?” Keigo was speaking to himself, just above his breath. But, you were more than close enough to hear him.

“Hey, Hawks? I don’t know if we can make ‘this’ try to go away.” You grabbed one of the hands cupping your face, pulling it away, only to shakily press in your lips to the bones on the back of it. “I don’t want to anymore.”

“Y-you gotta stop being so sweet, (Y/N)—”

Neither of you could wait a moment longer.

Your arms wrapped around Keigo’s shoulder. In the same motions, he pulled you closer by your waist, dragging you finally closer to him.

He held your jaw like you were the most precious thing in the world. Because, truthfully, you were to him. The sentiment was shared Deeply.

Your lips pressed together and the long-held tensions in your chests mutually shattered, dissolving in the honeyed touch of each other’s genuine attention.

You angled your head perfectly, Keigo’s hand guiding you as his mouth worked against yours. It wasn’t a particularly steamy sort of affair, but by god, it wasn’t in any way chaste. Not with the tight grip and thumbing on your ribs. Not with the way your hands tangled in the soft (holy fuck, soft) hair at the base of Keigo’s skull.

You both tasted each other's sweetness, craving more of it after denying yourselves of it for so long. It was white-hot, exploding behind your eyes, even as your quirk remained dormant. Keigo was honey and cream and smoked spices all dancing across your palette.

To Keigo? You were sweet, cool water over a hot burn. You were the heat of a hearth rolling over him on the coldest of days. He swears that in the first moments he finally got to be close to you, and over and over again— he finally understood how your quirk worked.

There was no way that finally feeling you, feeling you as he felt you, could be described with just five senses.

You pulled away first, gasping for breath and arching your back into him. You lingered as close as you could, pressing your forehead to Keigo’s while your breaths mingled. You didn’t dare stray far.

“Was that enough to show you?” Keigo asked, breathless. He kept a wide hand against your back, urging you with a bit of soft pressure to put your weight into it. You complied, settling in his hold as Keigo stroked at your hot cheeks.

You nodded, beaming up at him with that sunny smile of yours. It never failed to make heat burn through Keigo and god, did it feel good to finally let it unabashed.

“I take it, you like me too, huh,” You smiled, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Very much, very much,” Keigo repeated, pressing a kiss to your nose (he’d always wanted to do that). “So much, (Y/N). I apologize for not saying anything sooner. This is just...”

“New to you, right?” You finished his sentence, thumbing along the back of his neck in a way that made Keigo just melt. “It’s been a while for me too, if it makes you feel better.”

“It does, dove. Thank you.” Keigo let out a deep breath, shaking his head against yours. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

“It’s alright, same goes for me,” As much as you needed to adjust due to the angle of your recovering leg, you couldn’t make yourself do it. You were so wonderfully close to Hawks, you never wanted to move.

“If we’re being honest, then I need to be honest with you,” Hawks met your eyes, his expression going a little dimmer.

You braced for the worst.

He picked up your shift easily, finally able to express how quickly he caught your mood after so long of being attuned to it.

“Oh wait, no, (Y/N), nothing terrible, I promise,” Hawks rubbed at your sides. “It’s about the miel.”

“The... miel?” You cocked your head to the side, confused, recalling the drink somewhat hazily. “The drink I made you on the day of... the attack?”

Hawks gave you a tense smile, “That one, yeah. Remember how you said it was just based on your ambient feelings?”

“Uh-huh.” You let confusion lace your tone until it slowly started to dawn on you.

“You made the drink, ambiently, around me—”

Your eyes widened, mouth falling open, “Oh my god, Hawks, did my feelings for you get in the drink?”

Hawks graced you with a sweet, sympathetic smile, fingers tucking at the hair around your ear, “They did, dove. I’ve kind of known for a few days, it just hasn’t been the time or setting to say something. I apologize.”

“N-no, it’s okay, I totally understand,” You sighed into his grip. “I really thought it might be something worse.”

“Consider your worries assuaged,” Hawks hummed, eyes drifting to your boot. He deadpanned suddenly. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad does your leg hurt right now?”

Fairly bad, considering. You were half on your knees, the booted leg twisted awkwardly while still raised to the coffee table. This wasn’t even to mention the arch of your back so you could be all that closer to Hawks.

The pain of the position was easy to forget; you were still shaking from kissing Hawks just once.

“Uh, maybe like a seven, once I can feel anything other than how good you felt just now,” you hummed, grinning up at Hawks as his face went bright red.

The infinite pleasure you received, making him blush so sweetly.

He shook it off, squeezing your sides, “Cute. Very cute. Mutually returned sentiment, but let’s adjust.”

You nodded but didn’t have much time to react as a bundle of Hawks’s feathers lifted you every which way, albeit incredibly gently. All said and done, he was fully upright against the back of the couch. With the support of a feather or two, Hawks’s arms tugged you into his lap. Your legs stretched to the side, the booted one immediately propped up by a feather-supplied pillow.

You both settled yourselves, blushing and leaning on each other now that you finally were allowing yourself to.

Keigo fully wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against him. One of his wings even shifted to drape over one his shoulder, sheltering the two of you in a canopy of a crimson. Keigo let his hands wander over your hips, not seeking anything more than blessed attention and heat. You gave it all to him, tucking your face into his collarbone, drowning in the scent that made you feel at home.

Keigo pressed his lips to your crown and legitimately shuddering.

He spoke to himself, so faintly and quietly, you hardly caught it, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

There was melancholy in his voice, but you were quick to strip it away.

You brushed your lips along his jaw, savoring the way he held you tighter, “I have too. Can we do this more?”

“Anytime, dove. Anytime.”

“Right now sound good?”

You withdrew to beam up at him as you were so good at doing, only to be smothered by craving-satiating kisses anywhere Keigo could get to. The sweet, high laughter that he dripped onto you made your heart burst all over again.

And you finally, finally fell into the other sweetly, warmly, and properly.

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natromanxoff · 3 years

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19 - The Dynamic Duo V Montreux

Hello folks. I was sitting around twiddling my thumbs and I thought I would give the old hard drive a clean up, so before I dump a load of rubbish I thought I'd better answer these before I throw everything in the recycle bin. Let's start with a lady from New Jersey who goes by the name of Dorothy who gave me a very interesting offer for the next time I'm in New York. If you're reading this Dorothy, could you send Jacky your email address so I can reply to you. I've just opened up a "secret" Hotmail account so I can send replies without pestering the lovely Mrs Smith all the time, and to test it I went to the guestbook and picked a few names at random. Maybe I should reply to the irate drummer, but if I do that he'll just reply to me and the girls in the office will miss out on laughing at him as well. Staying with the skin bashers for a mo, Ron Hansen in Madison is a drummer, and said he liked my jokes and reckons Mr Irate uses three sticks, two in his hands and one up his arse (his words not mine). Would I be correct in saying your a Zep fan Ron? Today's question is, "What do you get if you cross a drummer with a roadie?" The answer is a stupid roadie.

Moving on, last time around I mentioned a drink which we consumed in Brazil, and the charming Sonia and Dina informed me it was called Caipirinha, and a pleasant little tipple it was to. Somewhere in Australia there is a lady called Karen who is listening to the Offspring CD non-stop, so I'm gonna have to try and answer her question as she has such great musical tastes, even though she wants to know the..........(flashing lights, fireworks, drum roll) Hoover Salesman Story. ARGHHHH. Its actually a very short tale, and I think it's quiet boring but it seems to have grown in stature over the years, and as always I'm gonna drag it out and start from the first skiing expedition that I ventured on with RT.

Having checked my trendy little biog mag, I reckon the year is 1980, and the dynamic duo are in Montreux putting the finishing touches to Fun in Space and we have a few days off before a tour starts in Zurich when Rog says, "Let's go skiing." He had skied a few times before and was ok at it, but I had never put a pair of skis on in my life. I said, "Lets go, but you ski and I'll just get pissed." He then went on about what a buzz it is and how I would love it, etc. As we were touring soon our American crew had to fly out, so I called up Jim Devenney and told him to come over a couple of days earlier cause we were gonna ski. Jim is a great skier and was on the first flight available and I picked him up at Geneva airport ready for some fun. That night we hit the town and have too many drinks and Rog goes off to bed semi early, while Jim and myself sat out on the jetty of Duckingham Palace with a ghetto blaster, Derek and Clive tapes, and a vat of wine singing disgusting songs at full blast, which must have echoed over to France. Suddenly we hear a French voice screaming at us and we have no idea what he was saying so we carried on goofing around, and the next thing I hear is a huge splash as Devenney falls in.

Let me assure you that a drunk trying to get a drunk out of Lake Geneva is not an easy task, but we succeed and head back to DP and retire to our rooms. I'd just got into bed when I hear a crash and go to investigate, only to find JD had gone in the wrong room and was trying to get into a baby's cot, and getting him out of there was harder than getting him of the lake.

Next day Roger, Dave Richards, his wife Collette, Jim and myself set off to Zermatt, and on arrival we stock up on skis, passes and other skiing paraphernalia (big words now!) Dinner, drinks and off to bed. Next morning we're up and ready to go, and thinking I'll never ski again after this I refuse to waste money on a ski suit, so I wear jeans. My second wrong move, the first was agreeing to go. The hotel owner wouldn't let us leave the hotel without first drinking a couple of Sambuccas, not my idea of a good breakfast, eggs, bacon, tea, toast and Italian liqueurs, but who are we to refuse. Next I've got to try and walk in those godamn boots, and we eventually arrive at the top of the Matterhorn.

The OK skiers, RT and Dave set off on their own, Collette begins a very slow trip down while JD tells me he'll stay and teach me. On go the skis, and down I go, flat on my arse. Up I get and I'm off, for all of about 2ft before I'm down again. This is not any fun. After a couple more tumbles my great mate Jim said, "If you're gonna f*** around I'm going." And thats the last I saw of him all day. Thanks pal. I'm standing there watching people ski and think, "It can't be that hard. If you stand like this, lean like that, you can ski." So I stand and lean in the correct positions and I'm away, screeching down a mountain with only one very small problem, I have no idea how to turn or stop, so as I'm flying past Collette, and she reckons I looked very worried, I yelled for some advice and all she said was, "DIVE." Sound advice, so thats what I do, and by now I'm getting wet. I wait for her and then we set off together, the blind leading the blind, with me diving at the slightest bit of speed or bend in the piste. A million years later we eventually reach the bottom of this awful slope and it's finally over. Wrong. Theres a T-bar to get on so we wait in line till it's our turn. You're supposed to put the bar just under your bum and it drags you up, but I'm 6ft and Collettes about 5ft 5in, so the bar was either in the middle of her back or around my knees, and no one told me not to sit on the f***ing thing and we bounced around for a while until we fell off. I'm now getting really pissed off with all this, "Get me a helicopter," I demanded from Collete. She told me they don't just send them, you have to be hurt. I replied with, "I'll break my f***ing arm but I've gotta get off this mountain." Realising I'm not getting a copter I light a ciggie and ponder.

We agree to split up and go with someone our own height, so I ended up with a great German guy who was really helpful. Once on the T-bar I can see that it goes way up and I would have to ski back down to base camp, and in case you've forgotten, I can't ski, so I said that I was gonna bail out, and jumped off. I then head of in a straight line to the cable car, skis on the shoulder and wading through 3ft of snow in a pair of very heavy and very cold jeans. What seemed like hours of wading I make civilisation and head to the bar for a triple strength coffee and a triple scotch while everyone gawked at me cause I looked like I had a shower fully clothed. Yeah, I wanna do this again.

Dinner that night was great fun for the others cause they got to take the piss out of me. Their day will come. The rest of the nights activities shall remain sealed away, but a good time was had by one and all. The tour went smoothly and I try and put Zermatt behind me, except Collette, still to this day, takes great delight in telling everyone about it, and everytime she says it she makes me look more and more pathetic.

The next winter appears and I'm at home and the phone rings, "CT, wanna go skiing?" To which my reply was nothing like, "Oh I'd love to you fabulous little drummer boy." I can't believe he talked me into it again, but this time we were gonna do things correctly and go to Aviemore in Scotland and take lessons, this was the saving factor in his plan. So once again we pile into the Range Rover and aim north. We split the driving (for a change) and had a good journey up through the snow covered mountains till we get to the resort. A usual night was on the cards, dinner, drinks and bed, then up bright and early for some lessons and a good day on the slopes. This time we've both got the correct outfits so we head off to where our little group of idiot skiers are. We're all standing in a line, with Rog and me at the end, and each person gets to snow-plough a few feet. These clowns have less idea than my first try, and it's also incredibly cold and we've now got icicles hanging off our hair. It's our turn and we both look like olympic champions, but the only thing wrong with getting it right the first time is that the instructor then turns his attentions back to the start of the line. Here I am once again standing on the top of a mountain, freezing cold with two 'things' stuck on the end of a pair of stupid boots, and I inform His Royal Highness that the next trip away involves sand and sun, no excuses, end of argument. RT agreed that this wasn't much fun and thought my idea worth considering.

We finally heard the two magic words, "Lunch Break." We're gone in search of some good HOT food and a nice beaujolais, and we found both. We also found that the hotel bar had an amazing selection of whisky, and we had to try as many as possible. We're now semi pissed and decide that as we're warm we might as well go back to this lesson even though we are very late, and the instructor looked at us and said, "Where have you two been?" Rog came back with "Trying lots of your wonderful scotch's." He was fine with that answer and we carried on trying to learn something, and would you believe by the end of the day I could actually turn and stop.

Back to the hotel for a nap before dinner. Over a very nice meal and a couple of little drinkettes we agree that it's far to cold here and we'll clear off the next day, so into the bar we go with our earlier mission of trying all the scotch's. We were sitting at a table chatting away and cracking jokes with each other and end up talking to the couple on the next table, swapping skiing stories, needless to say mine were very short, and having a bit of a laugh, when the woman said, "What do you two do for a living?" God knows why, but I said; "We're Hoover salesmen." At first they didn't believe us but we both started going on about the difference between domestic and industrial cleaners, uprights, backpack types, ones you pull along the floor. We went on about the different wattage, suction power, the amount of pressure on Axminsters and Wilton carpets, even a couple of car expressions like overhead this and thats. What the hell do we know about vacuum cleaners? But boy are we good at this. After about 30 mins of utter bullshit the subject finally changed and they wished us all the best with our door to door salesmanship and off they went to bed. We then had to reassure each other what we actually did for a living, had some more drinks and tried to work out how we knew so much about cleaners as both of us have spent most of our lives trying to stay well away from them. We spent the drive back to London having a good laugh about the one day we spent in a Scottish ski resort.

Well that's it folks, the story of a small company, R & C Taylor,..... Hoover Salesmen. I did learn to ski quite well, and whilst in Gstadd doing the Shove it album Spike flew out cause he fancied learning to ski, and the fool asked me to teach him. I wasn't much help because everytime he fell over I burst out laughing cause I kept seeing myself in Zermatt, and Spike looked just as worried and stupid as I did.

Before I go I noticed that Jacky had to get her boiler fixed and said for me not to make a comment, but little things like that spark me off and I remembered that when we were recording in the Townhouse Studios I had a little, no a big affair with the studio chef. Every three months Virgin would do a magazine for all their staff, written by all the heads of various departments, airlines, studios, video, shops, films, etc. and they would say what was going on with their particular section. Alan Douglas, who was chief engineer of all Virgin studios wrote who was recording where, and he wrote, "Queen are in studio 4, and Crystal, their main man is stoking the kitchen boiler." I thought that was hilarious, but Jane went ballistic. That's it for now.

Loadsa luv Crystal (Carpet cleaner to the stars)

#oh i suppose i forgot to queue this!#queen #queen band #roger taylor #roger meddows taylor #spike edney #crystal taylor #crystal's tales

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iamtheblondestblonde · 4 years

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Temptation

AN: I... I don’t even know what to say except for I’m so sorry? We had some tech issues at work today and I had this idea while I waited and it didn’t fit with Slides so here’s some plot with porn at the end with Mat? I wrote this in first person narrative but there’s no name or description in it. Also this is my first time writing anything like this and I didn’t spend much time proof-reading so please don’t judge too harshly

AN 2: I wrote a sequel called No Control and you can find it here so please check it out!!

Word count: 7.4k (things escalated what can I say..)

Warnings: cursing and smut, like really explicit content

He was only wearing a towel. Again. Seeing him walking around in nothing but shorts was already bad enough but this was on a whole other level.

When Mat had first invited me to come with him to his lake house by Vancouver to wait this mess out I had been thrilled. Fancy lake house overlooking the water with my best friend definitely sounded better than stuffy Brooklyn apartment in a city crammed with thousands of people infected.

Thankfully my online classes made the journey across the country possible and I only had to fly back for a short while to take my final exams. This wasn’t really how I envisioned my summer after graduating college but it could be worse I guess.

As I took a look at him all glistening wet from his shower on his way over to me by the kitchen island, I felt like I was trapped in an episode of temptation island or something like that.

Neither of us had expected this lockdown to last this long and almost two months of being holed up together was starting to take its toll. I’d known for a fact that I’d go batshit crazy if I were to stay with my own family or my crazy roommate though so his offer had truly been godsend. With the fancy club I usually waitressed at closed there was no way I’d be able to pay for my rent either, so I’d given my landlord my notice, put everything that I wouldn’t take with me in storage and followed Mat across the country.

His family was supposed to be up here with us and that way I’d have his sister as a distraction, but they’d decided to stay in the city, meaning it was only Mat and I. And my sexual frustration.

It didn’t help that my quarantine buddy looked like a fucking Greek god either. Any nun would probably go for him as well, frustrated or not. And I was definitely not a nun.

“Do you want to go paddle boarding after breakfast? The water shouldn’t be too cold today with the sun out.”

I looked out through the large floor to ceiling windows at Mat’s question, I’d been so distracted by him running around practically naked that I hadn’t even noticed that for the first time in three days there were almost no clouds visible. With May well underway British Columbia was apparently finally getting ready for summer.

“Yeah let’s do it. I still have to respond to a couple of emails before we leave tho.”

He took a look over my shoulder at my laptop, water droplets from his hair falling down my neck making me squirm.

“You’re getting me all wet”, I huffed before giving him a shove. Not thinking about the way his muscular shoulders felt underneath my fingers at all. Definitely not thinking about that. Nope.

“You’re the first girl I’ve ever heard complain about that you know?” He winked at me before throwing his head back in laughter as I flipped him off. The flirty banter that had been going on between us ever since we met almost two years ago wasn’t really helping my case either.

I was convinced the only reason why we hadn’t hooked up yet was terrible timing. We’d met at a time when both of us were seeing others and by the time we both were single again the previous months of platonic friendship had set our relationship in stone, never allowing for anything more than playful flirting and teasing. I’d thought about it for a couple of times, because honestly who wouldn’t with the way he looked?

Mat filled a cup with coffee and grabbed some of the breakfast I’d prepared before pulling out the chair next to me, looking at me expectantly. I was still munching on the remainder of my overnight oats so it took me a couple of seconds to swallow before I could ask what the hell he was waiting for.

“For you to finish whatever it is that you need to do. I have nothing else to do”

“I can’t concentrate with you hovering over me like this. Go work out or something.”

Mat had a really nice gym set up in one of the rooms and let me tell you if I had to pick one place to plank for the rest of the life, it would definitely be in there so I could at least watch the calming water while I died such a slow painful death.

“I already worked out, that’s why I just got out of the shower.”

“Well then put some fucking clothes on, you’re not some cave man who can get away with only wearing a loincloth”, I exclaimed, slowly getting flustered with him in such close proximity while knowing that one tuck could expose him completely. He cackled but got up nevertheless, making his way back towards his bedroom.

“Me being naked is yet another thing no one has ever complained about either, you wound me.”

“I’m sure Tito would disagree!”, I yelled, desperate to have the last word so I could at least keep some semblance of control in this situation. I could hear him laugh all the way from the other end of the house and quickly shook my head so I could finally get some things sorted out before he got back.

With the way the sun was shining right now I could probably get away with wearing only a t shirt over my swimsuit, which was a lot better than the full-on wetsuit we’d donned whenever we’d spent our time doing any water activities over the past few weeks. Although Mat in a wetsuit was truly a sight to see, with the way the fabric clung to him so tight that you could see every ridge of his muscles underneath.

I hustled through my emails, ready to relax for the day. Perhaps I could even start on my summer tan already, being out on the water always sped things up. Thankfully I’d bothered to bring lots of clothes and a bit of online shopping had closed any gaps that I had in my wardrobe, this bikini being one of the new acquirements as well. It was super cute and my butt looked really good in it and it would look even better once I finally got my tan going.

Mat was already lounging on the couch in the living room, scrolling through his phone and looking annoyingly perfect as ever. I knew for a fact that he hadn’t done anything with his hair and it looked so soft that I just wanted to push my hands through it. And pull it until he groaned.

“That one’s new”, he immediately said once he lifted his gaze to look at me, pulling me out of my fantasies. I hadn’t put my shirt on yet so he was getting the full view of me in the bikini, which might have been on purpose. I knew that quarantine must be getting to him as well and he wasn’t the only one that could be a tease.

I nodded, biting my lip before twirling around so he could get all angles. “You like?”

This bikini was a little bit skimpier than the ones he’d seen me in before and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t as relaxed at the sight as he pretended to be. Finally.

We grabbed our paddles and boards and slowly made our way out on the water. It still took me a couple of minutes to find my balance, no matter how many times I’d done this before but eventually I managed, Mat now slightly ahead of me. If I had my phone with me I would definitely take pictures of him right now, they’d be outdoor magazine worthy.

“Come on slow poke, what’s keeping you?”, he yelled over his shoulder and I was tempted to splash him but I already knew that that would end up in a fight I couldn’t possibly win so I only stuck my tongue out before working to catch up.

At first we kept close to the shore but eventually we slowly made our way out farther onto the lake, laying down on our boards to enjoy the gentle up and down of the water. The sun was hotter than anticipated so both Mat and I ended up taking off our shirts and using them as pillows instead. I closed my eyes to keep me from staring at him, instead relishing in the way the sun warmed my face.

“This is what life should always be like”, Mat sighed contently, breaking the comfortable silence.

“You’d miss hockey eventually. You belong on the ice.”

“Probably. But right now I’m not missing a thing ‘cause I got everything I need right here.”

I didn’t want to look at him out of fear of what I might see on his face, only giving him an affirmative hum instead.

“You’re seriously the best”, Mat sighed after emptying his drink yet again. I had decided that tonight would be taco night and made some margaritas to accompany them, both of us a couple of glasses in by now. It honestly could be a Tuesday but who even knows anymore. I was convinced that at least part of the reason why Mat had asked me to come with him was because he liked my food so much, especially when I cooked Mexican.

The sun was setting over the lake and we were sitting outside on the porch so we could watch the sun set above the water, music playing quietly in the background. He reached for the pitcher and I grabbed the golf club leaning against the sofa we were currently sharing, even though there was lots of space to lounge elsewhere.

Now I didn’t really like golfing, in fact I thought it was among the most boring sports to watch and not much better to play, but I did like to swing at the ball as hard as I could. I’d found some golf balls that would dissolve into food for the fish so for the last couple of hours Mat and I had taken turns in trying to get the ball as far as possible, both of us with a subpar form that only got worse after every margarita.

“No you need to rotate your hips along with the swing”, Mat commented and I threw him a look over my shoulder.

“You’re not much better you know.”

“Yeah but I’m also stronger than you so I can hit harder.”

“I’m not sure if that’s how it works Matty.”

For my next swing I made sure to exaggeratedly turn my hips with the movement, causing me to lose balance of course. In a split second Mat was there, his big hands resting on either side of my hips so I wouldn’t fall.

“Good reflexes”, I giggled, letting my head drop back onto his shoulder so I could look up at him, our eyes locking in an intense stare. He was standing so close to me that I could feel his breath fan across my neck it was very tempting to take the little step that was needed for me to be pressed against him completely. I knew I shouldn’t be thinking about him like this, but the alcohol wasn’t exactly helping.

I could see him swallow hard, closing his eyes for a second before reluctantly letting go of me. “It’s what they pay me millions for you know.”

“Cocky little shit.” And just like that we fell back into our old rhythm again. I pushed any and all dirty thoughts out of my mind and instead focused back on my golf swing.

With every sip I felt myself relax more, the amount of alcohol in the second pitcher definitely stronger than in the first. I knew that Mat felt the effect of the alcohol as well by now, the way his gaze would turn unfocused from time to time giving him away.

I gave him a curious glance when he got up, knowing for a fact that him with a golf club would be a dangerous combination if he tried anything right now. To my surprise he walked over to the box where all the blankets were stashed, pulling out the fluffy grey one that I liked most before spreading it across both of our legs. He surprised me even further when he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close to his side so I could rest my head on his chest. While behavior like this wasn’t completely unusual for the two of us, it had been a while since we last cuddled. It was as if Mat had been careful to not get too close up until this point, his resolve now gone.

“You know, I really like knowing things and learning how stuff works, but sometimes I just wanna be a kid again who doesn’t have a clue. I remember how I used to think that every star was a little fairy like the ones in Tinkerbell or something, I don’t know. The world used to be so full of wonders and now it’s all science this psychology that, you get me?” I listened to him ramble, the alcohol making him stumble on his words a couple of times as he tried to figure out how to properly articulate himself. I’d listened to his drunk thoughts for years now, still amazed at his ability to get all philosophical out of apparently nowhere.

“Kinda yea, but I also think there’s still lots of wonders left, some of them having to do with science. Why do comatose patients wake up? What must it feel like as a surgeon to be able to give someone a new heart, a new life? How can we know so much and yet still be wrong so many times? So the way I see it there’s still wonders, you just got to know where to look”, I finished my rant, looking up only to see Mat intently staring down at me. This wasn’t our first drunk real talk, but the way I was wrapped in his arms somehow made it feel more personal.

“By the way, I think I got lucky because I wasn’t even looking and yet I still somehow ran into you”, I continued, needing him to understand his importance to me all of the sudden. He’d truly been my rock over the past few months, keeping me from going insane as I approached the final stretch of my senior year. He’d reminded me to take care of myself and practically forced me to whenever I didn’t.

I couldn’t even count the amount of times I’d crashed at his place because my roommate was having some kind of crazy rager in our apartment, effectively making it impossible to study. He’d even offered up his spare bedroom once he moved into his new apartment but I declined because I wouldn’t be able to afford the rent at this place and I wasn’t about to leech off of him when I had other options.

“You are my wonder too, you know. I couldn’t have wished for a more supportive friend.” I smiled up at him, drunk happiness mixed with genuine love for the guy that had slowly turned into the most important person in my life. We’d come quite far.

It didn’t take long until the both of us were yawning so frequently that it was impossible to keep up a conversation, quickly gathering everything so we could go back inside. I hadn’t even realized how cold it had gotten until Mat’s arm dropped from my shoulder and my legs were exposed again from underneath the blanket.

“You wanna have a sleepover?”, Mat asked grinning at me cheekily while walking across the living room. Never one to say no to cuddling with Mat, even before all this quarantine horniness, I nodded before dashing off to my room to get ready.

Mat was already snuggled under the covers and he lifted up one side as soon as he saw me getting closer. He liked to be the big spoon and because that was one of the best feelings in the world I basically let him do whatever until he deemed our sleeping position comfortable. He’d definitely pulled me a little tighter than he usually did, our bodies now practically touching from head to toe.

He’d tangled up one of his legs with mine and my back was flush to his chest, his face nuzzled into the back of my neck. He had wrapped one arm around my waist so even if I wanted to leave or move, I wouldn’t be able to. It was like a big perfect Mat cocoon.

As I laid there listening to his breathing slowing down I thought back to what Mat had said on the paddle board a couple of days ago, about how he had everything he needed right here with him. I knew that that wasn’t exactly true because he missed his family and even if he denied it I knew he missed hockey as well, but he’d also admitted to needing me with him and I would be lying if I said that I didn’t feel the same.

A few rays of sunshine had lit up Mat’s bedroom the next morning, but that wasn’t what had woken me up. Mat was calling for me from the ensuite bathroom and I could faintly make out the sound of water running.

“I need you to bring me your shampoo, I’m all out”, he yelled and I groaned before slowly rolling out of bed. In daylight I could make out the mess his room had become, clothes littering the floor and every other surface and I almost stumbled over a set of weights on my way out of the door.

I grabbed my shampoo out of my shower and even reached for the conditioner for good measure. His hair had gotten so long by now that it would surely appreciate the extra attention.

Making my way into the bathroom I was faced with a problem that I hadn’t thought of up until this point. The lake house was pretty new, meaning the interior design was cozy yet still modern. Meaning all bathrooms were equipped with big glass showers. Meaning that there was currently no shower curtain preventing me from seeing Mat fully naked in the shower.

I could close my eyes but I would 100% trip over his clothes that he’d strewn all across the bathroom floor so my only option was to try and keep my eyes up high. Keyword being ‘try’. At least he had his back turned to me but I was still mesmerized by the water running down his body and the way his back muscles rippled as he reached up to push his hair out of his face. And that ass..

I slowly approached the shower, praying that he wouldn’t turn around to face me but also kind of hoping he would. I opened the door a little bit so I could set the bottles down inside and thankfully he stayed put.

“Don’t put the conditioner on your roots or your hair will look greasy”, I said on my way out and even I could hear how breathless I sounded, the view having my thoughts run a mile a second.

As soon as I had the bathroom door closed I squeezed my eyes shut to try and regain my composure. The image of him in that shower was one I wouldn’t be able to get rid of for a long time. I couldn’t even take a cold shower to cool down because Mat had my stuff and he’d know something was up if I were to simply rinse myself off and I couldn’t exactly tell him that the sight of him naked had gotten me all hot and bothered.

So instead I decided to use all of my pent up energy to go on a run, hoping for the runner’s high to clear my thoughts. By the time I got back Mat was laying in the corner of the couch, an episode of The Office on the big flatscreen.

“We need to go to the store later”, I reminded him, knowing that I couldn’t walk in on him naked again without losing the little control I had left in my body. He nodded and then looked me up and down and for a second I was embarrassed. Even with only wearing running shorts and a sports bra I was still drenched in sweat, probably looking disgusting.

At least he’d put my stuff back so I could finally shower in peace, my thoughts still wandering back to earlier this morning. I wouldn’t have turned him down before all of this shit started but now that I only had my own hands and trusted toy to take care of myself, I was borderline desperate. Two months without sex was the longest dry spell I’d had in years and I couldn’t imagine Mat feeling any different. I knew from firsthand experience that he brought lots of girls home as well. Perhaps he needed something to happen as much as I did.

It was hard to believe that his shampoo had just been empty all of a sudden without him noticing first and then there was the fact that for the past few days he’d been parading around the house in only his boxers or towels.

Two can play this game, I thought to myself, pulling on a comfy shirt and some tight booty shorts, foregoing a bra which he was bound to notice because of how it stretched over my chest.

I pretended not to notice how Mat almost choked on the sip of water he’d just taken as I made my way into the living room, walking over to the kitchen to grab my own bottle. Even if I couldn’t see it to confirm, I was pretty sure that he was staring at my ass as soon as I turned away from him. For good measure I even made sure to lie down with my head in his lap, murmuring something about how he’d taken up the best spot so he really left me no other choice.

The first few minutes he didn’t move an inch, resembling a statue. I knew that he could feel my boobs pressed against his thigh and I made sure to shift a couple of times to make sure before placing one of my hands on his thigh. Eventually he relaxed and even went as far as to rest one of his hands on top of my hand, slowly moving his fingers through the tangles in my still wet hair. When he accidently pulled at a few strands I let out a content sigh while simultaneously digging my nails into his thigh out of habit. I pretended to not hear him groan lightly and instead gave him the most insincere apology of my life, thoughts now definitely elsewhere.

I was royally screwed. Or actually I wasn’t, and that was becoming a big problem.

I’d made it my personal mission to get a reaction out of him as much as I could. Mat was the same, I hadn’t seen him wearing a shirt in days. It was like this competition to see who could make the other one snap first. Currently I was making breakfast in nothing but a shirt and my panties. Granted, the shirt went to my mid-thighs because I’d stolen it from Mat a couple of months ago but still.

One of my upbeat playlists was playing over the speaker system and I was dancing around in front of the stove, careful to not let the our breakfast burn.

“What a sight to wake up to”, I heard Mat’s voice behind me and his hoarse morning voice did things to me I would never admit out loud. I gave him a cheeky grin over my shoulder and wiggled my butt for good measure as my favorite part of the song came on.

“Can you set the table? Breakfast is almost ready”, I asked and he nodded before moving to grab everything. We’d gotten our morning routine down to a t by now and I couldn’t help the warmth that spread in my chest at seeing him do something so domestic. Our friendship had certainly evolved since practically moving in here together. It would actually be weird to not have him around constantly once all of this was over.

The day continued like most of the days before, us lounging on the couch after working out together for a while. It was something we’d made a habit a while ago. His trainer knew that I was with him so he’d give Mat tandem exercises from time to time or he’d ask me to take videos so he could make sure that Mat’s form was okay. I certainly didn’t mind the view.

Mat was always hot of course but there was something to be said about the way he looked after a workout, all flushed and just downright delicious. It was definitely a great motivation to join him in the gym.

This time I had managed to snatch the corner seat and I was sprawled out on the couch, Mat’s head resting on my stomach. While I’d managed to put on some shorts he was of course still shirtless and I’d given in to temptation long ago, my fingers now slowly running across his back. He had one of his arms thrown across my stomach, hand resting on my hip and drawing slow circles on the little patch of skin that had been exposed when my shirt had ridden up. While cuddling wasn’t unusual between the two of us, this was certainly new territory, the show we’d been watching kind of forgotten by now.

“Use your nails”, Mat pleaded and his voice was so raw that I would’ve done anything he asked of me at this point. He let out a groan when I softly raked my nails across his back and I was glad that he couldn’t see my face right now. There was a spot on the left side of his back that would cause him to shudder slightly, goosebumps spreading quickly. I found myself watching him in awe, fascinated by the reaction I could get out of him by such a simple act.

I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what kind of damage I could do if I really worked for it.

It finally happened a couple of nights later after yet another day filled with sexual tension so thick that you could probably cut it with a knife.

Mat helped me clean up after dinner, music playing to help speed things up. I was in charge of taking care of the leftovers while he cleaned up everything else. Obviously I was done before him and since he refused to let me help him I hopped on top of the kitchen counter, making casual conversation while watching him put stuff in the dishwasher.

“This is my jam!”, he exclaimed, quickly wiping his hands clean before motioning for me to come dance with him. I shook my head while laughing, which only led to him grabbing me and lifting me off the counter so I would join him.

His moves were ridiculous, arms kind of just flapping around. I knew that he could dance if he wanted to, we’d been to our fair share of clubs together but right now he definitely wasn’t trying. He held his hand out for me and with a laugh I accepted, letting him spin me around as he wished. The third time while he was spinning me back towards him he pulled a little to hard though and whether it was on accident or not I ended up almost smacking into him, only stopping myself by placing my other hand on his chest.

Both of us were a little out of breath by now and any laughter died down as he wrapped both of his arms around me, pulling me even closer. I looked up at him, gripping onto his shoulder with the other hand. Mat looked down at me with an unreadable expression. We both stared at each other for a couple of seconds, trying to figure out what the other one was thinking at the moment. How had things gone from him twerking to Lizzo to this?

He gulped heavily before bringing one of his hands up to cup my face, ripping me out of my trance. His gaze was flickering between my lips and my eyes and he leaned in a little closer, yet still waiting for me to take the final step. Deciding to throw all caution to the wind I moved my hand to his neck, finally pulling him down to where I wanted him.

When our lips met it was as if everything was falling into place. The kiss started out slow, both of us still kind of figuring out what the hell was going on without scaring the other off. As soon as he realized that I wasn’t going to push him off of me he kissed me back with the determination that he showed in every other aspect of his life. His hands started wandering, first sliding down lower on my back before he moved them to my side, tightly gipping my hips.

I let out a light moan and he used the chance to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue inside my mouth. He tasted like home and I willingly let him walk me backwards until I could feel the kitchen counter behind me, grateful for the leverage it would give me. He surprised me by lifting me back up on it and then pushing himself between my legs, gripping my thighs.

Eventually I did have to come up for air but Mat apparently didn’t concur to the basic laws of biology because he moved straight to my neck, sucking and biting gently until I was sure that goosebumps covered every square inch of my body. I knew I should stop and think about what was going on right now but I really didn’t want to, so instead I just dove right back into another toe curling kiss. Kissing him had quickly become one of my favorite things and I wanted, no I needed more.

“Mat, wait…”, I murmured against his mouth and he immediately took a step back, looking up at me with an expectant look. I could tell that he thought he’d done something wrong, when in reality it was the exact opposite.

“I want you but I don’t know if the kitchen counter is the right place for that.”

As soon as my words registered with him he groaned, burying his face in my neck.

“Then let’s get you somewhere comfortable… for now”, he teased and the wink he gave me told me that we’d definitely continue this in here another time. I let him lift me down, following behind him as he pulled me towards his bedroom with an urgency that I had only seen in games so far. He was pretty laid-back usually but I could tell that I’d riled him up over the past few days or weeks really.

It seemed like Mat couldn’t hold out until he got me onto his bed though, instead pushing me against the door and leaning down to kiss me again, pushing one of his thighs in between my legs. He fumbled around for a while before finally hitting the right light switch, making the room glow in soft yellow lighting.

His lips were addicting and even when he moved back I didn’t let him, chasing after him for another kiss. Using one of his hands to brace himself the other was slowly pushing up the fabric of my shirt. That wasn’t enough for me so I quickly moved to pull it off. I wasn’t wearing a bra and he cursed as soon as he saw my exposed chest, taking his time to look me up and down.

“So beautiful”, he murmured in awe before moving in again, one of his hands cupping my breast. I let out a moan when he started playing with my nipple which only seemed to spur him on further. I was so turned on already and he hadn’t even done much yet.

Determined to change up the power dynamics I pushed at his chest and he took a step back with a confused look, probably wondering if he’d done something wrong. Confusion turned into amazement as he watched me kiss down his chest before finally sinking down to my knees in front of him.

I took my time kissing his abs and mouthing along the ‘V’ that disappeared into his pants. I could see him straining against his shorts, impressed by what I could make out through the fabric. When I licked along his waistline he let out a beautiful groan and I decided I’d had teased him enough, finally hooking my fingers into his shorts and pulling them down along with his boxers. Him being shirtless already certainly made it easier to get him naked.

I watched his dick spring free, bouncing against his abs and looking absolutely delicious. He was impressively long but it was the girth that truly wowed me, finally making me understand all of the girls that came back time after time.

I gripped his thigh with one hand and reached for his dick with the other, making him curse. When I gave the head a little kitten lick he threaded his hands into my hair, practically pushing me down on him so I’d give him more. I didn’t object, wrapping my mouth around him and taking as much of him as I could, my hand taking care of the rest. The filthy sounds he was letting out above me only making me more enthusiastic and I was pretty sure that he’d have little crescent marks on his thighs for the next few days from how I was digging my nails into his thigh. He didn’t seem to mind though, only moaning my name.

“Fuck, you look so good like that”, Mat murmured and I looked up to him watching me intently. I kept my gaze locked on his as I moved back to let him go, my hand continuing to stroke him but my mouth dropping down to suck at his balls. The moan he let out would have made any porn star jealous.

It didn’t take long for him to pull me off of him in a way that told me that he didn’t actually want to, both of us panting as if we’d just ran a marathon.

“You need to stop or I’m going to cum”, he let out, his hoarse voice turning me on so much that I was pretty sure I’d be dripping down my legs if it weren’t for the fact that I was still wearing some clothes.

“Would that be such a bad thing?”, I teased, grinning up at him, not being able to resist licking up the entire length of his shaft once more. He practically pulled me up to my feet after that, moving in for another searing kiss.

“I’ve wanted you for so long and there’s no way I’m gonna finish before we even started.” He started to push me back towards his bed, changing his mind halfway there as he bent down to pick me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. For the first time I was able to feel him press against me, the thin fabric of my shorts not really doing much and holy shit did he feel good. He sat down on the edge of his bed, me now straddling his lap and I couldn’t help but roll my hips against him, desperate for any friction at this point.

The both of us let out a simultaneous moan at that and Mat buried his face in my neck, slowly sucking along my collarbone. He gripped my waist, his big hands nearly encircling it entirely.

“You’re wearing too many clothes still”, he said with his lips moving against my skin, making me shudder yet again. I’d long lost count a long time ago.

“Then do something about it”, I responded, not really willing to move at this point. He quickly stood up with me still perched on top of him before turning the both of us around, dropping me down onto the middle of the mattress. Him throwing me around like I weighed nothing really did something to me and I looked up at him through hooded eyes, waiting for him to make the next move.

He didn’t disappoint, leaning down to trail kisses from my neck, mouthing along my boobs before finally moving to pull my shorts and panties off. He took his time, making sure to appreciate every new inch of skin that he’d just exposed on the way back up and the closer he got to my core the more I was squirming underneath him. I had been waiting for this for so long that I wasn’t sure if I could make it through another minute without him inside me.

“Mat please, I really need you”, I whined and I could see him smirk up at me from where he’d situated himself between my legs.

“Don’t worry I’ll make you feel so good baby.” Hearing him call me ‘baby’ only made things worse but he finally put me out of my misery when he ran one of his large beautiful fingers through my folds.

“Holy shit you’re so wet for me already”, he cursed and I was about to respond when he literally took my breath away by licking up my slit. I couldn’t help but arch off the bed, already so keyed up and he quickly threw one arm across me stomach, forcing me to stay still. He started out slow and I knew that he was only trying to egg me on further but his resolve didn’t last long and he soon dove in with a determination that had sounds coming out of my mouth that I’d never made before in my entire life.

He moved my legs to rest on his shoulders so he could have better access and because I really needed something to hold on to for dear life, I gripped his hair. He’d said a couple of times that it had gotten too long during this quarantine but I certainly wasn’t complaining now, using it as leverage. I could see him grind against the comforter, desperate for any kind of friction himself and it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen in my life.

He moved back a little and I was about to complain when he slowly pushed a finger inside of me, any words dying in my throat at the feeling. He lowered his mouth again, sucking hard on my clit and I moaned so loud that I was glad that we were alone in the house.

“More, Mat please”, I whispered and I almost couldn’t believe that he already had me begging. He groaned and the vibrations in combination of him pushing a second finger inside of me were almost too much. I was close and I knew that he could tell from the way my thighs were starting to shake, curling his fingers inside me until he finally found the spot that made me cum so hard with a scream that I could see stars. He brought me through it, still pushing in and out slowly when I finally returned back to earth, grinning up at me proudly after wiping his mouth on the inside of my thigh.

“That was so fucking hot”, he said and I laughed, throwing my arm over my eyes in embarrassment. I’d had my fair share of hookups as well but nobody had managed to make me feel this good. I could feel him move up my body, reaching for my arm so he could look me in the eyes again before leaning down for a kiss. I could taste myself on his lips and while kissing him was still amazing, it wasn’t enough anymore. Mat seemed to catch my drift because he rolled off of me, only to reach for his nightstand, feeling around for a bit before triumphantly holding up a foil packet.

Taking advantage of him on his back I moved to straddle his thighs, taking his cock in my hands once again. He bucked his hips involuntarily and I could tell that he needed this as much as I did at this point. I took the foil package from him, ripping it open with my teeth before rolling the condom down his shaft. He gripped my hips, helping me scoot up until I was positioned above him, holding him so I could slip the tip inside.

Both of us let out simultaneous groans when I finally sunk down on him, the stretch painful in the most delicious way. He gave me a couple of seconds to adjust but I wasn’t really willing to wait any longer, rolling my hips against him.

“Your pussy feels so good around me”, he panted as he helped guide me along with his hands while looking me deep in the eyes. His pupils were so blown at this point, his cheeks were flushed and he’d never looked better. I was a moaning mess above him and I wanted to remember the way his cock was dragging against my walls for the rest of my life. One of his hands still rested on my hip while his other grabbed my boob, twisting the nipple and making me moan even louder.

At one point he moved to sit up, our chests now pressed together. The new angle had my clit rub against his pelvic bone and I knew that I’d come again like this with no extra help needed. Mat moved to kiss my neck, sucking and biting so harshly that I was sure that there’d be marks there the next day, not that anybody besides us would be able to see them.

His groans had become more erratic as well and I knew that he probably wasn’t far behind me, my name constantly on his lips. One last drag against him had me arch into him with yet another earth-shattering orgasm, Mat doing his best to fuck me through it before turning us around so he was on top of me, using his hands to hold himself above me so he wouldn’t crush me.

He grabbed one of my legs and pushed it up to rest on his hip, thrusting into me with a force that had the headboard slam into the wall repeatedly. He felt so good that with every thrust I let out a little moan, still sensitive from my orgasm, which only seemed to spur Mat on even more. I was digging my nails into his back to the point where I was sure that there would be red streaks after but he didn’t seem to care at all, too lost in the moment. It didn’t take long before he threw his head back and I could feel him pulse inside me as he came, the most beautiful groan coming from his lips as he finally stilled inside me.

He crashed down on top of me, burying his face in my neck, both of us out of breath by now and covered in sweat. He was silent for a while until he caught me off guard when he started laughing.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just thinking.. we could’ve been doing that for weeks, I certainly wanted to.”

“I did too but I guess we’re both stupid.”

Now we were both laughing and Mat moved off of me so he could pull out, gripping the condom so it wouldn’t slip off. He threw it in the trash can in the corner before coming back, his hand outstretched for me to take.

“I guess we have some catching up to do then, starting right now with me and you in the shower”, he said with a wink and I couldn’t think of a time where I’d gotten out of bed faster.

#Mat Barzal #smut #nhl smut #hockey smut #Mat Barzal smut #mat barzal x reader #new york islanders #hockey writing #ice hockey #nhl #nhl imagine

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cactusnymph · 3 years

Text

Prompt fill #5 for @dimension20alphabet:

Escape

[part two to this]

Usually it goes like this:

The Bad Kids eat lunch together in the cafeteria and otherwise Fabian doesn’t talk much to any of them over the course of his day. It’s not like he’s actively ignoring them, but he’s more on the side of the popular kids. The cool guys. The jocks.

Meanwhile, the others—well, maybe except for Fig—don’t exactly fit the bill.

Sure, Fabian would die for any of them, but somehow the social structures at school still feel restrictive in a way that gives him a hard time moving against them.

Now though, now the unthinkable has happened.

The Ball is ignoring him.

Well, not as much as ignoring Fabian as he’s actively fleeing from him the second Fabian comes into view. At first Fabian thought that The Ball had just forgotten something in his locker when he turned around and ran—ran—in the opposite direction of Fabian.

But it happens again during the first break and Riz is not at their usual table when Fabian joins the others for lunch.

Everyone is looking at him.

“What?”, he asks.

His mood was bad all weekend. After the ridiculous dare he received on Theo’s party The Ball was nowhere to be seen. Both Adaine and Theo—Theo of all people, as if he was The Ball’s friend—followed him out of the room while everyone continued to stare at Fabian accusingly.

Even Gorgug looked somewhat perturbed, like it was Fabian’s fault that a room full of people had chanted about him kissing The Ball. That hadn’t been his idea!

“Hey man, you know, you could’ve said ‘no’ without making it sound like, you know, Riz was like, a slimy ghoul or whatever”, Ragh had said to him quietly.

As far as Fabian knows, Theo and The Ball had ended up making out in one of the empty rooms or behind the house. Those pictures in his head didn’t lead to his weekend getting any better either.

He trained way too much with his mother. He ate so many kippers that Cathilda asked him if he was feeling alright—which he wasn’t, but he couldn’t exactly explain why. He went for a run three times on Sunday and was still feeling on edge about everything that had happened.

In the end he crashed on his bed with sore muscles and a scene of The Ball and Theo kissing playing on repeat in his mind that followed him into his dreams.

And now his friends were looking at him as if he had personally murderer The Ball. With his bare hands. For fun.

“Did you talk to Riz?”, Adaine wants to know.

“No.”

Silence answers him and he looks around the table.

“What? He saw me in the hallway, turned around and ran away!”, Fabian exclaims angrily. His face is getting hot. He hates all this emotional bullshit and almost wishes he could just go back to being his father’s darling boy instead of his own man, because somehow that seemed way easier.

“Oh no. Poor Riz”, Kristen says and Fabian almost loses his shit right there.

Why is it ‘poor Riz’? Why is no one acknowledging what a shit weekend he had? And how fucking dumb that dare was? And how it’s offensive to consider that Riz and Theo made out behind the house while Fabian was being stared at like someone who strangles puppies? And also, he fucking hates it to be ignored.

He is Fabian Aramais Seacaster.

He refuses to be ignored!

“Did you try to text him to apologize?”, Gorgug asks.

Fabian stares at him.

“For what?”

“I mean. You know, because. He looked pretty hurt and like. Isn’t he your best friend?”, Gorgug says quietly and Fabian feels like someone has dropped an iron weight into his stomach.

“I mean, I guess we’re friends, I wouldn’t go as far as to say that, you know—best friends is maybe a little—“

A voice in his head whispers “Why would you say that, isn’t that a lie?” but Fabian doesn’t get to listen to it as Fig lowers her fork and looks past Fabian at someone right behind him.

“Oh, no”, Gorgug says very quietly and Kristen gets up halfway from her chair which leads Fabian to turn around just to be faced with The Ball’s very pale and very unhappy face. For a split second Fabian has the opportunity to notice that Riz looks as if he hasn’t slept or eaten for the past two days, but then he notices Fabian looking at him and escapes immediately.

“Okay, Fabian, I know talking about your feelings is super fucking hard and everything, but get a grip, man”, Fig snaps at him.

“My feelings are perfectly fine, thank you”, Fabian grits through his teeth but he doesn’t touch the rest of his food and instead spends the rest of his lunch break cursing the universe for having The Ball turn up right at that moment when Fabian announced that them being best friends might be a bit of a stretch.

Fabian never really had a best friend before.

Fuck if he knows what that’s even supposed to mean.

Riz always just went ahead and announced it to the whole world after they’d barely known each other for a week and back then it had been completely ludicrous.

Now, though.

Fabian doesn’t know.

He might have announced that toxic masculinity is dead, but the truth is that it’s still hard dealing with all this emotional bullshit when no one ever really taught him how it works. And he’ll rather be shot than admit that. At least for now.

It was hard enough to deal with the fact that he never really did anything on his own and was nothing but a pale shadow of his father, but now that he managed to work through that, everything else was still as difficult as before.

And who the fuck are you supposed to talk to about these things?

His father is a madman flying a dead dragon through hell.

His mother heats up whole cantaloupes in hot pans, because she doesn’t even know how to cook some fucking scrambled eggs.

Cathilda would probably know a thing or two about this stuff, but Fabian has yet to fully grow into the whole Cathilda-is-basically-his-surrogate-mother-and-not-just-his-maid-thing.

And how is he going to explain this whole mess anyway?

“Hey Cathilda, I went to this party and someone told me to kiss The Ball and I was like ‘No, that’s ridiculous’ and now everyone is acting like I’m a complete asshole and The Ball doesn’t talk to me anymore, which is quite frankly offensive, because he always says that I’m his fucking best friend.”

Even to Fabian that sounds ridiculous. And it doesn’t take into account his obsessive thoughts about Theo and Riz kissing or how The Ball might have overheard Fabian saying that they’re not best friends. And his bloodshot eyes with dark shadows under them. And his pale green face with all those freckles.

And...

Fabian decides that school can suck his dick on this terrible Monday and he leaves the Aguefort Academy directly after lunch break instead of going to his fighter class.

It’s not like he needs it, anyway.

He could probably wipe the floor with his teacher at this point.

On his way home he receives multiple text messages from his friends.

“Hey Fabian, where are you? Are you okay?”, from Gorgug.

“Just text him”, from Adaine.

“Maybe Jawbone can help you out, he’s really good at this relationship stuff”, from Kristen.

Relationship stuff?

What relationship stuff?

The Ball is not his boyfriend.

Fabian laughs as he passes a mother with her two kids and she looks slightly concerned about his well being and tugs her children further down the sidewalk.

What if The Ball wants Theo to be his boyfriend?

Fabian stops in the middle of the road and stares at his phone. He doesn’t want to talk to Jawbone. Sure, Jawbone is cool and everything. But talking to Jawbone feels too much like admitting that he might have a serious problem, more so than if he maybe just talks to one of his friends.

For a split second Fabian thinks that wants to talk to Riz until he remembers that that’s not possible right now.

Because Riz doesn’t talk to him. And also Riz wouldn’t want to talk about anything related to kissing or—or—

Fabian stuffs his crystal back into his pocket and turns a corner that leads him towards Mordred Manor instead of home.

Ragh is outside in the vast garden of the manor, wearing a straw hat and some shorts and nothing else while he waters some plants.

“Hey, what’s up, bro?”, he calls over to Fabian, turns the hose and hits Fabian square in the chest with a jet of cold water. It only takes a few seconds until he’s completely drenched.

Ragh laughs loudly while he turns off the water and throws the hose down into the grass.

“You good, man?”, Ragh asks as he walks over to him. Fabian feels like on any other day he might have simply punched Ragh in the face for getting his expensive sneakers wet, but today it just seems like maybe he deserved a shower of cold water.

“Um—yeah. No. I don’t really know”, he says and his voice reminds him of the time when the whole Leviathan debacle went down. He clears his throat and wipes some water out of his face. “Do you—uh. Have some time to talk?”

“Sure, dude. Let’s find a spot with a little more shade.”

Fabian hates the feeling of water in his shoes, so he takes them off and follows Ragh through the garden and into the shade under a big maple tree.

“What’s up, dude?”, Ragh asks and throws himself down into the ground, pulls the straw hat off his head and leans against the thick trunk of the tree. Fabian sits down cross-legged and puts his sneakers to the side.

“So—uh”, he starts and then closes his mouth immediately because he hasn’t actually thought this through at all. Ragh looks at him curiously and Fabian wonders if there is a good and nonchalant way to ask the things he wants to ask. Instead of acting cool and composed how he wants to, what comes out of his mouth is:

“Do you think The Ball and Theo made out?”

There is a beat of silence in which Fabian considers just getting up and running out of the garden and into traffic. This was not what he is supposed to ask.

This is not—

“Dude”, Ragh says and he leans forward to look at Fabian. “You look like you’re about to puke, man.”

Fabian doesn’t feel great. His chest feels like someone installed iron clasps around it and is pulling his ribs tight and his stomach is doing some acrobatics that it’s absolutely not supposed to do.

Why did he ask this?

And what if Ragh says yes?

Why the fuck does it even bother him?

The Ball can kiss whoever the fuck he wants!

“I’m—sure. Fine. Yeah. It’s all—uh. Fine.”

“Yeah, dude, no offense, but like, it doesn’t look particularly fine to me. So—what you’re asking me is. If Riz and Theo got it going after that whole Truth or Dare thing?”

Fabian takes a deep breath, which seems particular hard for some reason. This is ridiculous.

He’s Fabian Aramais Seacaster. He knows how to fucking breathe.

“I—guess?”

“Hm”, Ragh says and leans back again. “Not sure if that’s my story to tell, bro. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sorry you feel like shit, but, like. Isn’t that something you should talk to Riz about?”

Fabian thinks that, if one other person tells him to talk to The Ball, he might actually commit cold blooded murder.

“Great suggestion, seeing as to how he keeps running away from me like he’s afraid I’m going to breathe fire at him any second”, he growls and crosses his arms in front of his chest. Ragh sighs and cocks his head from side to the other.

“Would it like, bother you if they actually had made out?”

Fabian wants to snort and say “No”. What comes out instead is a garbled noise as his brain is bombarded with pictures about Riz and Theo kissing.

“Woah, dude, okay”, Ragh says and he looks alarmed. “Breathe, man.”

Fabian can do that. Breathing is really easy, except that it’s not.

“Okay, dude, Imma just say it now, okay? It’s like ripping a band-aid off!”, Ragh says loudly, grips Fabian’s shoulders and stares at him very intently. “I think you’re totally into Riz.”

Fabian’s brain feels like it’s suffering from a bad case of frostbite. His thoughts turn sluggish as he tries to process what Ragh just said, but it doesn’t make any sense. Fabian is not into The Ball. He’s not in love with Riz. That is insane.

“Okay, so, hear me out, bro. Remember how I was totally in love with Dayne? And it took me like a million years to like, get that? Feels pretty similar to what’s happening with you right now, right? Because we’re like, these manly dudes and we’re supposed to be into hot girls and all that stuff, right? So it doesn’t really fit the picture, but it’s totally fine, dude. It’s all good. You can be in love with Riz.”

Fabian blinks at him. He can hear the words and he can feel the corners of his mouth turn upwards as if to try to form into a grin.

“Don’t be insane, Ragh. I’m not—That’s—“

“It bothers you when he’s with other people because you’re fucking jealous, dude. I’ve been there, okay? And it’s like this weird thing of—you’re not allowed to be jealous because that’s fucking weird, right? Because that’s like, your best bro and everything. But then you keep obsessing about him making out with other people and then it’s like, okay, but what if he kissed me and then you feel really fucking bad, right? Because you’re brain shouldn’t go there?”

For the very first time Fabian imagines what would have happened if he, instead of saying “No, that’s ridiculous”, had actually kissed The Ball.

He thinks about Riz’ sharp teeth and how he keeps chewing on his bottom lip when he’s nervous and the second Fabian’s brain arrives at Riz’ bottom lip it feels like there is a dam inside his brain breaking.

He imagines grabbing Riz and pulling him into his lap, pressing his lips against his and hearing Riz make a choked noise against his lips—

“What the actual fuck.”

Ragh lets go of his shoulders and nods.

“Yeah, dude. Intense, right?”

“But—why?”

Ragh shrugs and rubs the back of his head with one of his hands. Somehow the cold water drenching Fabian’s clothing feels like a blessing now because his skin seems to be on fire.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—

“Because, dude.”

“But like—what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

“I mean. Sounds to me like you should totally kiss your Ball, bro.”

Fabian’s stomach does multiple somersaults.

“But he’s not—into that kind of stuff.”

Ragh chuckles.

“Dude, I love Riz, I really do, but I feel like now that you figured this part of the whole deal out I can just tell you, that like. Riz doesn’t want to make out with Theo or pretty much anyone, right? Which is totally fine, bro, don’t get me wrong. But also, like. I’m a hundred percent certain that he would totally kiss you, man.”

Fabian’s first response is “Of course he does, why shouldn’t he” but then his brain catches up and his skin starts to tingle.

Maybe this is why kissing Aelwyn for the second time wasn’t really working out. Maybe this is what Aelwyn meant when she said “Well, I suppose we’re not a good match after all”.

“Riz... wants to kiss me?”

Ragh nods and grins.

“Yeah, dude.”

“Okay. Well—uh. I have to go.”

“Don’t forget your shoes!”, Ragh shouts after him but Fabian doesn’t give a rat’s ass about his shoes as he takes off.

Maybe he can unpack all of this shit later. Maybe he should actually talk to Jawbone. Maybe this is going to be yet another thing that makes him different from his father and as soon as he has some time to think it through he can maybe arrive at the conclusion that that isn’t a bad thing.

At some point he stops running because he actually has no idea where Riz is. Is he still at school? At home? At his damn office? Fabian pulls out his crystal and hastily types a message to Riz.

“Where are you???? We need to kiss!”

He deletes the last word and types “talk” instead. Fabian watches with his breath held as three dots appear on his screen very shortly before they disappear again. He waits in the middle of the street, no shoes on, dripping wet. People passing him by look as though they’re concerned for his mental state but Fabian couldn’t care less.

Maybe now is not the time to be manly about his feelings if he actually wants to fucking kiss his damn best friend.

“I need to talk to my best friend”, he types.

The dots reappear immediately.

“at the office”

Fabian stuffs the crystal back into his pocket, considers calling the Hangman to drive him over there but then decides that he doesn’t want to wait for him to arrive.

The last time Fabian was in Riz’ office there was a terribly creepy doppelganger of Riz trying to kill him, but he pushes the thought to the side as he rushes into the building, dripping water everywhere as he heads up the stairs.

Fabian doesn’t think he can manage another emotional talk today because the last one left him completely drained and exhausted, but the second that he spots Riz behind his desk ripping some papers in a nervous craze his heart leaps into his throat and goes into overdrive immediately.

Fuck.

He rips open the door and Riz flinches so hard that he sends all the papers flying. Then he stares at Fabian with his huge, yellow eyes.

“Why are you wet? And where are your shoes?”, he wants to know, looking completely confused.

“Doesn’t matter”, Fabian says, rounds the desk and grabs Riz by the shoulders. “We need to talk about Saturday.”

Riz turns his face away and there is a dark green blush on his cheeks and the back of his nose. Now that Fabian knows what his damn problem is he realizes how fucking badly he actually wants to kiss Riz.

“Oh—well. Yeah. Haha, weird, right? Don’t worry about it, it was totally ridicu—“

“I should have done it”, Fabian interjects. Riz’ eyes grow impossibly wider.

“Wh—what?”

“I should have done it. Kiss you, I mean. We should have kissed.”

Who would have thought that the son of the famous Bill Seacaster would die of a heart attack at the age of eighteen while wearing no shoes and dripping wet clothes.

“Wh—why?”

“Because I—“

Fabian didn’t actually get that far in his head. He grabs Riz’ shoulders tighter and fuck, he can’t bring himself to say the words.

“Because I don’t want you to kiss anyone else”, is what he manages in the end and he watches closely as Riz’ swallows and the dark shade of green on his face grows impossibly darker still.

“Did you mean it?”, he asks quietly, his voice raspy and hoarse.

“Mean what?”

“That—in your text message. About—you know. Being best friends or whatever.”

Fabian takes a deep breath.

“Yeah.”

Riz makes a very small “Oh” sound and then, all of a sudden, Fabian stumbles backwards with his arms full of Goblin. It occurs to him that this is the first time they actually hugged.

“So—uh. Can I? Um—kiss you?”, he asks and his voice sounds like he swallowed a bunch of sand.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

It turns out that kissing someone you’re actually into is better than winning a Bloodrush game, better than dancing, better than pretty much everything he’s ever done before. Riz holds onto him as if his life depended on it and Fabian feels like he won’t let his best friend down anytime soon or he might just fall over and die.

It occurs to him that this must be Riz’ first kiss and something inside him purrs contently at the thought of that as he lets himself sink down into Riz’ chair so Riz is sitting in his lap.

“Thought you were into that Theo dude”, he mumbles against Riz’ lips.

“’m not.”

“Yeah, I get that now.”

“I’m uh—pretty much only into you. So...”

Fabian’s heart is doing a very silly little dance in his chest but all he can bring himself to say is “Yeah”. All the other words that he probably should say get stuck somewhere half the way up his throat because his heart is beating too fast.

“So... no more Truth or Dare”, Riz says sheepishly.

“No, definitely not.”

“Cool.”

Very cool indeed, Fabian thinks, as he kisses Riz again.

#fabriz #d20alphabet21 #fantasy high #fanfiction #mi writes #fabian seacaster #fabian aramais seacaster #riz gukgak #dimension 20

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collecting-stories · 3 years

Text

3am Friend - c. 01 - Topper Thornton

Summary: Topper and y/n have been in a “friends with benefits” relationship since September but the line between friendship and something more are already starting to blur.

A/N: This is basically four chapters: Fall, Winter, Spring, and Summer. Also it’s going to be a bit of a practice run at writing more smut for me lol. Also it’s smut like, right under the cut lol.

Sophomore Year Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

What were you doing with your life...

You bit down on your bottom lip to stifle a moan as Topper’s tongue pressed against your clit, the cold tiled wall of the shower stall pressing into your back had your skin erupting in goosebumps, a contrast to the almost burning water that was hitting you. It was futile to bother concealing whatever noises Topper managed to pull out of you, the curtains of the shower stalls did little to shield their occupants from the rest of the communal bathroom, the plastic more often than not creating the perfect outline of whoever decided to use the showers. There would be no mistaking you, pressed against the wall, one leg tossed over Topper’s shoulder, his own figure silhouetted, kneeling in front of you with his hands digging into your hips.

If anyone did find you there was a 90% chance that they weren’t just going to let you off with a ‘sorry for intruding while some guy eats you out in the shower’ but any concern you actually had about the consequences of your hookup had died the minute Topper had joined you in the shower stall. Technically he’d texted you to come over to his dorm, he lived right off the main campus, close to your building, in a still operational fraternity house. He split a room with some guy who liked to stare but never actually talk when you came around. Yours was not a relationship of anything substantial. You’d hooked up with Topper at a party and exchanged numbers and, two days later, responded to a very obvious booty call at one in the morning.

“Holy shit!” You cursed, your voice coming out an octave higher than usual, fingers gripping Topper’s short blond hair. You could feel every muscle in your body tense as you tried to keep yourself upright, your other hand grabbing hold of the dial on the faucet in a desperate attempt to not completely fall apart as Topper sucked on your clit. He had moved one of his hands at some point, middle finger now moving rhythmically in and out of your entrance, working you through an orgasm.

When you came down, your muscles relaxing and you pushing back against the wall to keep yourself steady, leg slipping off Topper’s shoulder, he stood up. He caged you in almost immediately, moving as close as possible in the stall and kissing you, the salty taste of cum still there on his mouth. “That pad really comes in handy,” he teased, referring to the silicone mat you’d bought two weeks earlier to scrub your feet without trying to do a yoga pose in the shower.

You hummed, “I’ll leave that in my review on Amazon. Great for not bruising your knees.” When he kissed you again you smiled, eyes fluttering closed for a split second. This was the worst part. The part when you ran out of things to say and he would untangle himself from your arms and leave, promise to text you later.

It was the thing that your roommate had warned you about in the beginning that you had ignored.

“That’s like, not even friends with benefits though.” She had admonished when you told her for the first time that you had started this bizarre relationship with Topper. “I mean, you’re literally having casual sex with some rando guy that you hooked up with at a party. At a frat party. Do you even fucking know anything about him?”

“I know his name,” you had replied, rummaging through your closet to find something to wear to class, “and his phone number so I can booty call him.”

“Brilliant.” She snapped, “he could be some fucking weirdo axe murderer preying on college girls.”

You rolled your eyes, “he’s the same age as us.” You had never been one for casual sex in your life until this point and you weren’t sure why it seemed enticing now but you wanted to branch out a little. You’d gotten your first boyfriend in ninth and you’d stuck with him until August of this, your sophomore year of college. He broke up with you, claiming the distance between your school and his was too much for him to deal with.

It was your roommate that had dragged you to the party at the fraternity house, claiming that it would get your mood up after the guy you’d been with for the last five years decided he couldn’t do the 2 hour commute between your school and his. Three shots of tequila later and the blond you couldn’t take your eyes off of asking if you wanted to ‘go somewhere quiet’ were all the motivation you needed to put the past behind you and stop groveling over a guy who wasn’t even there.

Still, the fact remained, even now as Topper put his hands on your hips, looking at you through the mirror and kissing the back of your head, you knew that casual sex was not your forte. Not simply because you had never done it before but because you found yourself craving those small, just after when the bubble had broken yet and there was still some lingering affection, moments as much as you craved the sex. But you had both agreed, casual. Something to take your mind off school for a few hours, a stress relief. For you it was more than that. You’d never been the most confident when it came to sex or your body, all that self-love/self-care crap was wasted on you and your gnawing insecurities. Having casual sex was like constantly challenging yourself to be your most exposed and most intimate with someone who was still relatively a stranger to you.

“You know I think it was technically supposed to be my turn,” you mentioned, running the wide-toothed comb through your hair. You should’ve detangled in the shower except that wasn’t really top priority. What would you even say, ‘oh, would you mind not eating me out for a second so I can brush my hair’…you’d live with the awkward waves that dried in.

“I thought we switched.” Topper shrugged, pulling his sweatpants back on. His shirt went over his head and you involuntarily pouted at the mirror, there went the view.

“No, I said…this doesn’t technically count.” You replied, referring to the party three nights earlier and the head you’d given to avoid having actual sex on your period. You were at the tail end and you’d contemplated not going to the frat house at all but changed your mind at the last moment.

“Hey, if you’re offering, I’m not gonna turn you down.” He joked.

You turned to look at him, the mirror not sufficing as you stuck your tongue out playfully. “I have a test tomorrow, I have to study.”

“Come over, you can study in my room. We’ll hang out.”

“We are incapable of hanging out Topper.” You replied, grabbing your shower caddy and heading for the door. He walked right out after you, both of you ignoring the rather appreciative stare of one of the other girls on your floor.

“Not true,” he’d suffered a nasty break-up in high school that he gave no more background to other than to say she had cheated on him extensively. Casual seemed to be the best he could allow himself to do though you weren’t sleeping with anyone else and, as far as you knew, neither was he.

Your roommate looked up from her desk, rolling her eyes at the sight of Topper following you into your dorm. In the beginning of September, when this first started, it felt like you only ever disappeared at night. You saw Topper when he texted you and you might smile in the café but you never actively sought each other out. Now it was creeping toward November though, with Halloween right around the corner, and Topper felt like an accessory. He was always right there wherever you were, not that you were complaining. To anyone on the outside you looked like a couple but you both maintained the friends with benefits story.

“Oh look who it is.” Almost two whole months of him and your roommate still greeted Topper with a disdainful glare. She was fervent in her belief that the guy you thought was damn near perfect (if only he’d actually date you) was hiding some deep-seated flaw.

“Hey G,” Topper greeted, taking a seat on your bed as if he couldn’t tell just how annoyed your roommate was.

Geena and you had been thrown together after enduring a freshman year from hell. Her roommate from the year prior had been awful, like caging yourself in with some 00’s mean girl who only found satisfaction in watching you suffer. Your own freshman roommate had been neurotic about the dorm and constantly scrutinized whether your cleaning methods were sufficient. Geena was a blessing, you got along well, hung out all the time, had become fast friends in the short time since the beginning of the semester. Topper was the only thing you didn’t agree on. She thought it was unhealthy, that it would only lead to heartbreak.

“You can’t have casual sex with a guy for three years…people already think you’re dating. Some girl I don’t even know asked me if I could get her into a Phi Sig party next week cause my roomie is dating one of the guys.” There was a new reason almost daily with Geena, like she tore away a new page on the calendar and it offered up cons to your relationship with Topper in lieu of a word for the day.

“I can ask for her.”

“Oh my god, that is not the point.” She snapped.

You sighed, “I don’t really care if people think we’re dating.”

“Why?” She asked the question so smugly you already knew where she was going with this. And you knew why it didn’t bother you that people thought you were dating, why you sometimes even fanned that flame.

“G-“

“No, tell me why? People usually keep that shit quiet so they can hook-up with other people too. So why don’t you care?”

“Because if people think we’re dating…they won’t try to date him.” You shrugged, practically mumbling the last part. You hated that she knew that off the bat, that she could tell that you liked him so much in such a short span of time. And you knew she had a point to all her antagonizing. You had been in too deep since two weeks into September when he told you that you looked pretty in something your ex always said made you look fat.

You held the seam of your towel shut as you rummaged through the set of plastic drawers underneath your bed. Geena had done the bed on risers thing for optimal storage and you had followed along, semi grateful for the added space since both of you seemed inclined to transport your entire bedroom with you. Topper’s foot nudged your side as you got closer to him and you looked up, matching his smile when you caught him staring at you. You were sure Geena was sitting behind you rolling her eyes.

“Guess I’ll go grab something to eat.” She announced, as if your very presence had worn her down.

“I’m just getting changed, I think we’re heading over to Topper’s.” You replied, looking back over your shoulder at her.

Geena scrunched her nose and stood up anyway, “still would rather not be here while you got dressed so I don’t have to pretend like I can’t see this one leering at you.” She shot Topper a look of contempt as she passed. If it was real, if he asked you out and he was really, actually, your boyfriend, Geena was positive she’d have no problems with him. He seemed like alright and he certainly made you happier and more confident than she’d seen you in the beginning of the year. But she hated the thought of you getting hurt and didn’t want to be just sitting on the sidelines watching it happen.

“I don’t leer.” He joked, turning back to you once she was out the door, “I don’t leer.”

You didn’t answer, instead grabbing your underwear out of the top drawer and pulling them on once the door was shut. The first time you had ever gotten dressed with Topper around you’d made sure that you were obscured from view, still too bashful and self-conscious of the way that you looked without clothes on. There was still that split second moment when you doubted yourself, when you thought about maneuvering your towel to hide your body from view, as if after two months Topper might suddenly look at you and decide he didn’t like the softness of your stomach or the width of your hips or any other imperfection you could find.

You pushed through the voice though, dropping your towel and getting dressed. When you reached for the bralette your tossed on the bed beside him you realized he was looking at you. “G might have a point, maybe I should turn around.” You teased, his eyes snapping up to meet yours.

“I’m admiring the view.” Topper replied, not at all embarrassed at being caught.

You rolled your eyes, pulling your bralette on and adjusting your boobs until it sat right. “I don’t even know why I’m putting this on,” you mentioned, grabbing his sweatshirt to pull on over it, “I should just stop wearing underwear to your room and then I won’t ever lose it.”

“You lose stuff? Whose wearing my hoodie right now?” He asked, grabbing the edge of the hood to pull you closer to him.

“Your room has swallowed three of my bras...the nice ones too. Or Will like, took them.” You said.

If there was some kind of formal set of rules that you and Topper had ever thought to draft, kissing outside of actually having sex with each other should have qualified as a major no. But nothing of the sort had ever been discussed and now, Topper leaned over, stealing a quick kiss before he got off your bed. Maybe now didn’t count as a ‘just friends’ moment though since technically you were heading back to his room, presumably to have sex. To finish what he’d started when he showed up seconds before you got a shower.

“What would Will need your bras for?”

“To masturbate over? Who knows...all I’m saying is, I wear bras to your room, I never seem to leave with them.” You replied.

“I promise I will find all your missing bras today, okay?” He grabbed your lanyard off the hook, keys and wallet all in one place, pulling the door open for you. “Wanna grab pizza later?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, waiting a beat to answer him. Grabbing pizza meant, inevitably, hanging out after. Becoming friends was unavoidable, there was no way that either of you could have navigated sleeping together without some sort of relationship forming. So far it was only friendship, or at least that was all either of you were willing to let it be. Anything more than that meant an actual romantic relationship forming, something you wanted but were determined not to let yourself even entertain the idea of.

“Fine but not from that place by Barnaby's.” You replied, pushing the door open and stepping out into the quad with him. The local bar was always teeming with college students and the last thing you wanted was someone recognizing Topper, because everyone always seemed to recognize Topper, and invite the two of you in.

“We’ll just get it delivered.” He shrugged.

The first time you met Topper, enough to tequila to not make you totally embarrassed as you danced with Geena in the main room of the Phi Sig frat house, you had laughed when he told you his name. It was a combination of the heels you borrowed from another girl on your floor and the alcohol that had you losing your footing, catching yourself in time not to smash your whole body into a coffee table, and landing on the couch beside Topper. He was taking a sip of beer and looked relatively startled when some almost drunk girl fell into the spot next to him.

“Sorry!” You’d shouted over the bass as you tried to undo the straps of the heels that you were sure were also guilty of twisting your ankle.

When he introduced himself two sentences later, “I’m Topper” you couldn’t resist a good dad-joke and smiled at him, “but I hardly know her!”

“Amazing.” He had been less amused by the joke than you were though he didn’t really seem bothered by it, at least not bothered enough to move on because he stayed on the couch for three more turns of the conversation before asking if you wanted to talk elsewhere. You were sober enough to know exactly what he meant and obliged because you were still kinda pissed at your ex and you didn’t want this year to pass the same as last year had, with nothing but school work to show as a passing of time.

At least you’d have a good story to tell.

Highschool you had a healthy apprehension of frat houses and the people who lived in them. You’d seen enough episodes of CSI, Law and Order, Veronica Mars, and any other crime show that existed in the early 00’s to know that frat houses were breeding grounds for terrible things. Your parents had even attempted to sway you from going to your first-choice college simply because the greeks still existed on campus. You could only imagine what they’d think now, knowing that you had spent more time in Topper’s room than you had in your own in the last month at least.

Frat houses might’ve been sordid in your mind but so far, your reality of this one was exactly what it looked like on the surface, a bunch of guys living together with limited supervision. You still stuck to Topper whenever you were inside but you’d never had a problem with anyone in there and you rightly assumed that most of them just figured you were his girlfriend.

“Will told me he wants that TA position next year, with Prof Berkley.” You mentioned, flopping back onto Topper’s bed and tilting your head so you could look over to the empty other side of the room that belonged to his roommate. Aside from staring at you too much and possibly stealing your bras, you still had a hunch that Topper was just messing with you and had them stashed away somewhere, Will was alright. You were both in the same area of study, pre-law, and he had told you days earlier that he was gunning for the same TA position with your advisor as you were.

“I don’t know anything about it.” Topper replied, kicking his slides off and climbing onto his bed with you. The countdown in your head started now, hopefully soon you would be naked.

“Yes, you do because I literally told you about it at breakfast.” You pointed out. He’d texted you that morning to get coffee with him and you ignored Geena when she told you that sex-friends don’t get coffee together. “I said I was applying for the TA spot because it’s a massive opportunity.”

“Sounds like something I don’t have an opinion on.” He said, rolling over so that he could kiss you. “Enough chit-chat.”

“You’ve got a one-track mind Thornton.” You joked, moving your arms above your head as he pulled his sweatshirt off of you.

“Well can I interest you in getting on that track with me?” He replied, lips brushing over your neck as he spoke. You hadn’t bothered to put on any makeup before you left your dorm, you hadn’t even bothered to dry your hair all the way. But who were you to worry about things like that when Topper was pushing your bralette up over your head.

You jerked slightly, wriggling around on the bed when the fabric got caught half way up your arms, binding them above your head and covering your face, Topper taking advantage of the moment and sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as you arched your back into him. “Topper!” You whined.

He hummed, pulling away from you to take the bralette the rest of the way off and tossing it off the bed, “sorry, couldn’t resist.” He said, smiling at you as if he truly couldn’t resist. The thought made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You didn’t let yourself have the moment though, pulling him in for a kiss the moment he had untangled you, hand on the back of his neck as you ran your tongue against his bottom lip, biting gently as you pulled away. Topper held himself up on one elbow, his other hand pushing passed your sweatpants.

“Always right down to business,” you teased.

“What do you want me to take you out first?” He was joking, you knew that, but the way he said almost sounded like he truly would take you out if you wanted him to. But then what would this be, if you had dinner before you hooked up.

“Some foreplay would be nice.” You kept the conversation light, the way you always did, and he laughed.

“I thought the shower was foreplay.”

You would’ve answered, thought of something witty to make him laugh again, but he had pushed your underwear to the side, fingers pushing passed your folds to brush your clit. He made the same satisfied hum that he always did when he realized that you were wet, like a quiet pat on the back. His middle finger circled your clit, a barely there shudder of nerves setting off in your stomach as you moaned.

“I was supposed to,” you managed as he shifted further down the bed and you realized what he was doing.

“We have plenty of time.” He promised, pressing a kiss to your stomach.

Topper hadn’t seriously dated anyone since his break-up with Sarah. Kelce told him constantly that he was putting too much on that relationship, as if it was the holy grail by which to rate every other relationship that he had. And maybe he was allowing himself to be too scorned by something that lasted little more than a summer but he couldn’t help it. Topper was nothing if not a hopeless romantic and that had felt like such an idealistic time in his life until it all inevitably crashed around him.

He tried casual hook-ups before you. A few girls from high school that he knew that made it practically impossible for the casual to still exist alongside the hook-up. College was easier but freshman year had been mostly dedicated to rushing the fraternity that his dad and grandfather and great grandfather had all rushed before him. Then he met you at a party in the beginning of sophomore year and he told himself it was casual but he knew that this was far from it.

You weren’t anything like Sarah and maybe he had done that on purpose. Specifically slept with someone that didn’t remind him of anyone back home as some way to separate himself from that part of his life. To fully embody the frat boy, jock, life he was trying to live through. He figured it would just be a onetime thing and then maybe a sometime thing but now it was most definitely an all the time thing. Kelce told him that he should just ask you out but Topper felt like he was in too deep already.

This was supposed to be strictly friends with benefits, if he crossed that line and you said no he would be crushed.

“Topper,” you moaned, bringing him back to the moment. You shuddered as he pulled his fingers out of you, placing a kiss just below your belly button. When you tugged at the short blond hairs at the back of his head he shifted, letting you lead him back up so that you could kiss him.

You had told him specifically that it was your turn, as if he really cared about taking turns at all. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it? You don’t have some fussy girlfriend bitching about giving you head.” Rafe’s colourful comments about the situation had been largely ignored but Topper knew, less crudely, he was right. The whole reason the two of you had started this was for sex of any kind and you had been the one to suggest taking turns.

“My ex wasn’t very forthcoming with praise. He always told me I was kinda shitty at sucking dick so, maybe it’d be kinda nice to practice.” It’s been a colourful sentiment, one you had felt oddly comfortable sharing with Topper when the two of you first sat in his room discussing the arrangement.

And while he wholeheartedly disagreed with your ex-boyfriend, Topper just liked being the one to give. He liked that moment when everything overwhelmed you enough that you let go and stopped worrying about if you looked attractive in a certain position or if your thighs were too big or if you had any unwanted rolls. That split second between overthinking and not thinking at all was powerful and Topper liked being the one who caused it. He liked the way you looked in his bed, biting your bottom lip to keep quiet so other guys in the house didn’t hear you. The way your hair tangled just from laying on your back. He could list a million things, every one more obscure, less noticeable, than the last because he felt like when you were around all he could do was pay attention.

“Hey, quit daydreaming about Hailey Bieber-“ you teased as Topper’s movements slowed down, his lips brushing languidly against your collar like he was in some lethargic trance.

He squeezed your side, baring his teeth to nip at your neck, scraping them across your skin and making you laugh as you turned your head towards his. That lazy smile you got was there, eyes hooded as you watched him, the moment passed and he leaned in to kiss you again. When he broke away it was only to grab a condom from the box on his dresser.

Topper pushed your legs apart, settling between them. He slipped one hand beneath your back, guiding it into an arch to bring your chest closer to him, mouth finding one of your breasts. His tongue pressed against your nipple, swirling around it as you dug your nails in the sheets beneath you. He looked up at you, eyes hooded, as he pushed you back down against the bed. “God,” he breathed out, “you’re so fucking gorgeous.”

You grabbed the back of Topper’s neck, pulling him into a kiss, slower than the ones before, more tender. Your other hand moved down between your bodies, finding his dick, enjoying the way he moaned against your mouth as you guided him in. Despite the orgasm he’d given you in the shower you still felt that stretch as he pushed in, kissing across your jaw and sucking a bruise into the space just behind your ear.

You would never tell Geena but somewhere between quick hook-ups and longer nights together your ‘just casual sex’ had turned into something else, something far more meaningful though neither of you would acknowledge it.

Instead you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, Instead, you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, hips snapping against yours. The sound of your panting breath and his grunts filled the room; you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning when Topper’s fingers dipped passed your folds to massage your clit.

“Oh god, Topper,” you whined, turning your face enough to press your cheek into Topper’s pillow, the faint smell of his cologne hitting your nose. You breathed in, always a fan of the subtle musk.

“Does that feel good baby?” His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, words barely registering over the sensation of him. You opened your legs a little further, lifting your knee and hooking your leg over his back. The angle seemed to give more depth and his movements picked up speed. His fingers circled your clit faster as he continued to whisper words of encouragement to you. A quiet “come on baby, I know you’re close”.

“Are you?”

His comment had seemingly brought you just out of the haze enough to ask him if he was close. You knew you were, he knew you were, and you wanted him to be there too, just on that edge with you. As he pulled out you clenched around him and when he pushed back in it felt deeper than before, that all too familiar groan of satisfaction leaving his lips as you guided him back into a kiss. He didn’t answer your question, instead taking the opportunity to kiss you, tongue working it’s way into your mouth and dragging across your teeth. You found your grip on his hair, tugging hard enough that he jerked his hips in retaliation, hitting so deep you felt yourself go off that edge, his motion become erratic as he followed, smoothing your scream with another kiss, biting your bottom lip as he pulled away.

There was always a moment of frenzy in the beginning when you first started hooking up. You would rush to grab your clothes, partially because you felt the need to leave when the act was done and partially because you didn’t want him to linger too long on your body. You were a temporary fix for a problem he didn’t feel like dealing with on his own, he wasn’t responsible for making you feel good about yourself. He wasn’t your boyfriend, he wasn’t obligated to tell you that you were beautiful or lavish any compliment onto you at all, not that your ex had ever been willing to either. You didn’t stay, for the first few weeks you trudged back across the lawn from the frat house, back to the dorms, and snuck in. But things had changed by mid October and what was once a booty call at one in the morning when he couldn’t sleep was now you going over for pizza and a study session that turned into an afternoon spent in his bed.

“What time is Will back?” You asked, sitting up as Topper came back into the room with two water bottles. There was still that awkward moment just after sex, as if neither of you knew how to leave behind the intimacy of the act and return to normal life. Like you were both waiting for the other to admit that maybe just friends wasn’t really what you wanted at all. So he disappeared downstairs to get water and you pulled your underwear and his sweatshirt back on, leaving the bra somewhere on the floor.

The empty other side of the room served as a poignant reminder that time alone was only ever temporary.

“Not sure,” he shrugged, “he’s been talking about some girl on campus that he’s dating. Won’t reveal her name apparently, he’s convinced Fitz will try to fuck with them if he finds out.” His fraternity brothers were not the same as hanging out with Kelce and Rafe every day but they weren’t the worst substitutes for entertainment. Fitz was the head of the house, a senior whose greatest claim to fame was being party to a wildly controversial radio-show that amounted to nothing more than some white guys imitating Rush Limbaugh and the Douche from Parks & Rec. He said dumb shit just to piss people off and had an unappreciated proclivity for trying to ruin any relationship one of his brothers found themselves in.

Will was always an easy target for him though he’d set his sights on you a few times, assuming like others did, that you and Topper were dating. You had never mentioned it to Topper, Fitz was gross and you were looking forward to his inevitable graduation at the end of May.

“Fitz totally would,” you replied. Last year you existed on no one’s radar. You hadn’t so much as gotten an offer to go out on a date with someone and yet this year, all because of Topper, you were sure, it felt like everyone in his circle seemed to pay attention to you in some way. “He told me he prank called Will’s mom two weeks ago pretending to be the on campus nurse for a bit on his radio show.”

Topper looked up from his phone and the pizza he was ordering, frown etched onto his features. “When did you talk to Fitz?”

“His econ class is right down the hall from my 12:30 poly sci class…he always ‘walks with me across campus’ in case I get mugged apparently.” You laughed, “I think he just does it cause he knows we hang out.”

“I didn’t know he was talking to you.”

You shrugged, Fitz had been goading you for weeks but it wasn’t anything that felt harmful. Just some mind-numbingly dumb conversation about parties and girls and his radio show and how hot he apparently thought you were. “It’s not a big deal, if he was bothering me I probably would’ve said something.”

“Right,” Topper still looked miffed despite having no reason to be. You weren’t interested in Fitz and, even if you were, what say did he have over it. That old familiar feeling crept in though, the one he recognised as the same one that the plagued him after Wheezie told him that Sarah had cheated on the boyfriend before him only to find out that she had cheated on him with John B. When he looked over you were pouting at him, “what?”

“Your room is so cold.” You replied, pulling the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands as if that was an indication of the frigid temperature. The old house lacked insulation in most of the rooms, Topper’s being one of them.

He rolled his eyes, climbing back into bed with you, the momentary worry subsiding. You weren’t his girlfriend but in that moment, as he pulled the blankets around the two of you, guiding you back down to lay with him under the covers, he could have fooled even himself about the relationship. He held his arm out in front of both of you so that you could see his phone and the menu for the pizza place.

“I’ve been really in the mood for pepperoni.” You mused, not bothering to look at the screen and opting instead to tuck your face into his bare collar. Your hand slipped down from his chest and Topper grabbed your wrist before you could make it to his briefs.

“Pizza first,” he said, “you’re already getting sleepy.”

“It’s cause I’m cold.” You insisted.

He turned to place a kiss on your forehead, “pizza.” He reminded you again.

Halloween weekend creeped up and, before you knew it, Phi Sig was decorated and advertising a Halloween haunted house party for everyone on campus. Geena was going home on the actual night of to trick or treat with her sister but she agreed to go to the party with you that weekend. She loved a good party and any excuse to dress up.

When you weren’t spending time with Topper, and sometimes when you were because he had a tendency to hang out just to hang out (the friends side of the benefit), you and Geena marathoned episodes of Supernatural. And it was at her coaxing that your Halloween costume became an homage to the show and your favorite character. A semi-loosely interpreted Dean Winchester, complete with a flannel over your black tank top and the mark of Cain crafted by Geena using her best fx makeup skills. You wore cut-off jean shorts with your hiking boots, showing off the legs that you were usually self-conscious about. Geena was Cas, sticking a little closer to the actual costume though she made a few alterations.

“I gotta ask…” Fitz said, coming up to the two of you the moment you were in the door, as if he was the greeting committee.

“I’m Dean Winchester.” You explained, “G’s Cas.”

“You dressed like a guy for Halloween?” Fitz clarified. “I was hoping for something that showed a little more…” he made a motion with his hands to indicate that the little more he wanted to see were your boobs.

“I have the obligatory sexy cat costume but that’s…” you looked passed Fitz’s shoulder, eyes landing on Topper down the hall chatting with some friends, a smile instantly lighting up your face, “that’s for his eyes only.”

Fitz looked behind him, catching sight of his frat brother and rolling his eyes before turning back to you, “yeah well, if Thornton’s not appreciative then you know where to find me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you laughed, stepping around him. Geena had broken off already, heading for the keg that had been set up in the corner. When you started down the hall Fitz found someone else to antagonise, leaving you to vie for Topper’s attention, not that it took you much. Just walking up had him breaking his concentration to look at you, the smile automatic. “Hey,” you greeted as he hugged you, keeping his arm around your waist as he brought you into the conversation.

“Hey, you look great.” He praised, offering you some of his beer. Topper’s costume was best described as JFK yachting in Hyannis. He looked like a preppy New England white boy and you suspected it was all clothing he already owned thrown together differently. There was always that slight air of prep to him though college and a growing collection of hoodies were slowly eating away at that.

“Thanks, I feel a little out of place,” you joked, noting a girl down the hall that was wearing a mock up of Amanda Seyfried’s bunny costume from Mean Girls. “Though I do have a costume change saved for later.”

“Oh yeah,” that smile was a full blown mischievous grin and you wondered for a split-second how down he would be to ditch the whole party and take you to his room. “Does it involve these clothes on my floor?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You teased.

You had been stressing over the purchase of a costume that could’ve been more accurately described as lingerie since it arrived at your dorm a week earlier. Did friends with benefits buy lingerie sets specifically for showing off? You weren’t sure where that one fell on the line but you were positive you were crossing into territory that was reserved for girlfriends. But even with those doubts, just the thought of Topper seeing you in something that was just for him to see you in somehow made you unable to pass up the opportunity.

Topper groaned, pulling you closer to him so that he could press his forehead into your neck, “baby,” his voice sounded almost close to whining and you ran a hand through his hair. He nipped at your exposed collar before lifting his head again to look at you. “How long am I supposed to wait?”

“One track mind, I’ve said it before…I’ll say it again.” You laughed, trying not to think about the way this felt so much like a relationship, pulling away from him but taking his hand, “come on, I wanna get a drink.”

He followed you to the makeshift bar set up by the keg, refilling his beer while you ladled a generous helping of jungle juice into your cup, trying to fish as many sour patch kids as you could to add to it. You were drinking mostly to calm the nerves that were bubbling up. Geena would be gone Halloween night and the whole next day because she didn’t have classes and you were thinking of inviting Topper to stay over. Regardless of the hour or the amount of time you spent together afterward, the post-coital bliss always came to an end and one of you always left the other. Even if you got breakfast the next day there was a stretch of time that existed between the night before and the morning after where you were nothing to each other but bodies.

“So, Geena’s going home on Halloween, I thought maybe you could come over,” you suggested. That part was a given.

Topper looked almost confused that you were asking, “yeah, figured we’d end up hanging out anyway.” He replied.

“Well…” you worried your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, “I was thinking, she won’t be back til the next day…like, at night, and I thought, maybe you’d wanna stay over.”

No. There was a voice in the back of his head, the logical one who knew that crossing the most obvious line, the one where he stayed and you woke up together, was a turning point that he wouldn’t be able to come back from. It was bad enough that he had let this become something that bordered on being a relationship to anyone looking in on it, but letting himself pretend like it was…he wasn’t sure he could come back from that when this all ended.

“Yeah,” he said, quieting the logical side of his brain, “as long as you wear this ‘something else’ for the duration of my stay.” It might be a bad idea but who was he kidding, he was so far gone he’d accidentally referred to you as his girlfriend when he was on the phone with his mom just the day before.

That smile returned to your face, the one that was so sly yet excitable at the same time, the perfect juxtaposition of innocence and deviousness, “Well, I was gonna wear nothing but-“

“Nothing works for me.” Topper replied, using his free hand to hook his fingers through your front belt loop and pulling you toward him so that he could kiss you. Definitely not friends with benefits, but you’d both keep pretending until one of you cracked.

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