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dearsnow · 5 months ago

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BIRDS OF A FEATHER

- phoenix and her girlfriend set you up with a wso they insist will be right up your alley. (robert “bob” floyd x fem!reader, fluff, reader is meant to be similar to bob, ie quiet, sweet, and nerdy, mentions of being drunk/having sex but nothing explicit)

word count: 2,003

a/n - this fic is parallel HEAVY, so don’t be surprised if you see the same phrase passed around. it’s truly a mindlink esque situation lol. and it’s 100% self-indulgent because the reader’s personality is so similar to mine (i am nothing if not a self caterer)

“Nat, I’m really not sure.” Bob tries to protest. “You know I’m no good with dating and stuff. Who’s to say she’ll even like me?” Natasha pats him on the back, firmly enough for him to know she means it.

“You guys are birds of a feather. Trust me, she’ll like you.”

“Jamie, I just don’t know.” You frown. She’s trying to set you up with her girlfriend’s friend, claiming that you’d be the perfect match, but you know you’re not the most amazing when it comes to meeting new people. You’re slightly awkward at best, socially anxious at worst. “He probably won’t like me. And if we’re really so similar, don’t you think it’ll be stiff and weird because neither of us can say the right, flirty thing?”

“You don’t need to be ‘flirty’ to have a good connection. Not every relationship is going to be like Natasha and I, all fire and flame. Sometimes it’s slow, and slow is good. It’s exactly what you need.” Jamie chides, putting a soothing arm around your shoulder. “Trust me. Birds of a feather, right?”

You shift uncomfortably in the booth you’re sitting in, Jamie’s hand rubbing the side of your arm comfortingly. It’s ten minutes before your supposed double date, and Natasha affirms that it’s about five minutes before he shows up. “Bob’s always early,” she stated, “so we can be even earlier to give you some prep time.”

You’re quiet. Shy, even, and you don’t have the best track record with social events. You’ve never really had a date that understood why you don’t want to get roaringly drunk and have sex in a bathroom and whatnot. The two girls, one in front of you and one by your side, have assured you that Bob will be different. He’s quiet too, but he stands up for himself. He’s strong and capable, with a humble attitude and the slight southern charm that you can bring home to your parents. If he’s really so great, though, what the hell is he doing going out with you?

Bob can see your booth through the door of the diner, and he steels his nerves quietly. He’s got this. He’ll make it a nice dinner, a nice experience, and he will not, under any circumstances, fuck it up. He owes you that much. He knows he’s probably not what you want in a guy. Natasha described you as hardworking, kind, and a good listener. He can’t help but think that you deserve much better than him.

He takes a breath and pushes open the door, the flowers in his other hand a little damp from his sweaty palms.

When he finally rounds the server stand, he can see you. And you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever had the pleasure of setting sights on.

He’s royally fucked, he thinks.

Oh my god, he’s so hot. You smile at him and curse a bit under your breath, careful to not let anyone hear. He’s everything you imagined and more, with sandy colored hair, bright blue eyes, and glasses that look like they’re just a little crooked. If you were bold, you’d reach across the table and fix them as he sat down. You’re not, though, so you just fidget with your hands under the hard wood.

He clears his throat and hands you a small bouquet of daises, sliding into the spot across from you. Nat gives a little self-satisfied smile from next to him. “Hi. I didn’t know what you liked, so I hope that’s okay. I’m- I’m Robert by the way, or Bob, whatever you prefer.”

You think your cheeks will split open from how hard you’re smiling. It’s such a small gesture, but the blush on his cheeks tells you that it’s earnest. “They’re perfect. Thank you, Bob.” You introduce yourself with the next breath, and he shakes your hand like it’s a business meeting. His palms are warm and just a little bit damp, but when his fingers curl around your own like they were meant to fit together, you couldn’t care less. “So,” you begin, somewhat shyly, “you’re Natasha’s WSO?”

When Bob hears your quiet voice, he knows he’s in deep. “Yeah. She’s a great pilot.” His praise earns him an elbow from Natasha, a silent ‘talk about yourself, dipshit’ evident in the action. He smiles nervously. “We do a lot of the weapons bits so the pilots can fly safely. How about you, what do you do?”

“It’s not as important and exciting as your job, that’s for sure.” You laugh before explaining exactly what you do.

“Honestly, that is important and exciting. I’m sure you excel at it, too,” Bob offers, somewhat bashfully. What makes your head spin is that he seems like he means it. He’s sincere, wonderfully so.

As that statement quirks the corners of your mouth up, Bob’s heart explodes. You’re charming and beautifully sweet, with a pretty smile and dashing eyes to boot.

Jamie enters your conversation carefully, like she wants to help but isn’t forcing anything. Natasha pipes in a few times, but overwhelmingly, it’s you and Bob. Neither of you have ever spoken so much in this type of setting before, and it’s great. You bounce ideas and jokes and quips off of each other like you were meant to. You feel like you were meant to, because everything just comes so easily with Robert Floyd. You’re finally talking to someone who understands every bit of you, polishing the hidden parts of yourself until they shine. You never thought you could feel this way with another person.

“Wait, have you read this book called For One More Day?” You ask, finding every opportunity to drag out a subject you enjoy so deeply. “It’s really sad, like a fictional memoir, but I think you’d enjoy it. The whole story is basically an ode to loving your parents while they’re still around.”

“I haven’t, but I’ll be sure to check it out the next time I go go the library.” Bob says, giving a slightly lopsided grin that makes your heart scream. “It seems right up my alley though. I like non fiction books, mostly, but I could go for a change every once and a while.”

Your food is almost forgotten in the midst of the conversation, and his is too. “When you do read fiction, what genres do you go for? I have a million recommendations, so help me narrow them down a bit.”

Bob will never admit this to his friends, but he’s an avid reader. He’s a sucker for a true story or anything about dogs, however, he’d read anything you could ever think to tell him about. He has already made a mental note to check out For One More Day and is currently making more notes as you list off more dog-central books. You, as you’ve told him, go for more of the fancy prose-d, heavy drama-d, and emotion-filled stories. It’s nice to see you like this, talking about something you’re honestly passionate about. The light in your eyes makes you look like a ray of sunshine.

Jamie grins at Natasha from across the table, utterly and unashamedly content that her plot has worked. Natasha rolls her eyes. “Alright, you two,” Nat says, “can we move on to something more exciting? Like planning a second date, maybe. One where Jamie and I can be happy at home while you two nerd out.”

Bob’s face reddens and you give a small, sheepish smile. “I’d like that.” You say.

“Me too.” Bob adds. Natasha can firmly say that she’s never seen him so happy, not even after a successful flight. It’s like he’s finally found the thing that made him tick, like you reached into his chest and wound up the gear box in his heart. “I’m free this Friday, if you’re up for it.”

You tap your fingers on the tabletop, thinking. “This Friday… this Friday is when I’m doing a book reading for the kids at our local library at lunchtime. We could have dinner after that, though.” You want to spend the entire day with him, but if a few hours is all you’re given, you’ll take it. You’d take anything.

Bob’s hands move to touch yours, just barely. His warmth radiates out, perfectly soothing your nerves. “If you want, I can make lunch and help you out at the book reading. I like those kinds of things, but I don’t want to impose.”

“You absolutely should.” You breathe. “You wouldn’t be imposing at all. In fact, I think the kids would really like it if Mr. Naval Aviator read a few books to them. You’d be like a superhero in their eyes.”

You’re a bit astounded by how much Bob’s face flushes. If you thought he was a bit pink before, he’s got a drunk man’s glow now. And you were being completely, one hundred percent honest when you said that the kids would like him. They’d love him. Micah’s father was in the Navy when he was younger, so there’s one connection, and April loves airplanes with a passion. It would be amazing.

“Then I’ll be there. Here’s my number, so you can text me when and where.” Bob slides a little piece of paper over to you, one that he must have written a bit ago, because his pen is securely clipped to his pocket. He likes you so much he wrote down his number while you were (probably) explaining your love for reading, or crafts, or small animals? You’re going to swoon if he keeps this up.

Natasha eyes where your hand is touching Bob’s. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. Now eat your food.” She gestures to your half-touched plates. You and Bob both stutter a little, completely having forgotten what you’re going to have to pay for.

The rest of the evening goes amazingly. You talk about so many subjects that by the end of the day, when the sun is slipping below the horizon, you feel like you’re floating on air— light and unburdened by the way you’ve been able to express yourself. Bob insisted on paying for your meal, and though you protested, a little part of you feels giddy that you’re worth spending money on. Bob walks you to your car, tucking your flowers into the cup holder between your seat and the passenger side.

“I really enjoyed that.” He muses. “I really enjoyed you. I thought Nat and Jamie were kinda full of it when they told me about this whole double date, but I’m glad they weren’t.”

“Me too, oh my gosh. I was totally expecting some stuck-up Navy nerd, but I’m glad it was you. I enjoy you too, Bob, probably way too much.” You’re standing by your door, but you feel like you can’t leave just yet.

He looks at you with something you hope to think is affection in his eyes before glancing down towards your lips. “I’ll let you get going. Text me anytime.”

You hesitate, staring up into his ocean blue eyes. Before you can stop yourself or tell yourself it’s a bad idea, you take the collar of his shirt in your hand and kiss him.

It feels right. His hand coming up to rest on your waist, his body pressed against yours as he stabilizes himself on your car, it’s everything you’ve always dreamed of. His lips work in tandem with your own, like they’re collaborating on some sort of secret mission, and he kisses you like he loves you.

His pupils are blown up and he’s panting just slightly when you pull away. He misses the feeling of your lips on his as soon as it ends, the tingling sensation working its way down his face. “T-Thank you…?” He whispers. You laugh, the sound music to his ears. He can hardly believe that that just happened.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Definitely.“

You give him a small peck on the cheek and step into your car, so happy you think you could explode. As you pull out, and as he waves at you from the parking lot, you make an effort to remember to thank Jamie and Natasha.

Who would’ve thought that you really would be birds of a feather?

Taglist: @seitmai

#solar eclipse.#bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #top gun maverick x reader #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd fic #bob floyd #robert floyd #top gun headcanons #top gun x reader #top gun #top gun fandom #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun movie #top gun maverick #top gun fic

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dailynagisamomoe · 6 months ago

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FOLLOW ON QUIZ!!!

i got pink! which rlly contrasts the darkness element i got

i made a magia record element quiz and tried to make to as accurate as i could, but then got lazy-

btw darkness gang here 💪(im so happy i got the same as nagisa)

#puella magi madoka magica #magia record #quiz #•♡Nagisa tomfoolery♡•#nagisa momoe #light #darkness #flame #forest #aqua #void #red #pink #orange #yellow #green #blue #purple

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mskenway97 · 11 months ago

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Bot in flames

I have been wanting to write this for a long time and I started thinking about heat cycles in robots.

My mind was focused on bayverse optimus prime and I came up with all this.

Forgive me but I couldn't help but want to XD.

Bayverse Optimus Prime X Fem!Human!Reader

Summary: You are a new mechanic working at NEST after the problems in Egypt, you became very close to the autobot leader, until one moment he started to avoid you, the rest of autobots warnning to you. Until you find out why.

Occurs between revenge of the fallen and dark of the moon.

Words: 2,451

Warnings: heat cycles, belly budge, cumflation, masturbation, multiple orgasm, size difference,possessive, g/t

You had always been interested in technology, you had gone into mechanics although many people would not take you seriously in what you were doing. Until you started seeing something that caught your attention, the Mission City events.

A lot of people said it was a lie, a hoax… Other websites said they had witnesses and testimonies about giant robots. You tried to see more images but nothing.

Everything seemed to be a lie until a giant robot appeared on your TV telling you that you were not alone, that there were more beings in the galaxy. That even though everyone was scared, you were more interested but you were just a mechanic, no matter how much you wanted to meet them you were not going to find them, until you received a letter because of your knowledge, they were needed at the base of NEST.

They blindfolded you and put you in a black car without asking, like the movies, the ride was a bit long until you got to an interrogation room, showing if you had a criminal record, not to reveal the information here without ending up dead. Once finished they took you outside a huge hangar and put you on hold, until a middle-aged man who seemed to be the general, came to pick you up in person.

-Y/N, General Lennox we have seen that your knowledge in mechanics and your project of coexistence between machines and humans is unique. I'm just telling you try to stay calm, you're going to be surrounded by autobots. The first time is usually a surprise.

He wasn't lying when he took me to another hangar with huge beings of different sizes looking at you. I had a feeling of nervousness, butterflies and above all that he would not try to give me a heart attack. It was one thing to see fuzzy pictures on the web sites you had seen and another to see them in person…. Besides your height was not the tallest, you literally understood how the ants felt.

You saw the biggest of them all approaching, it seemed to be the leader, with red and blue flames, with what looked like parts of a truck, despite your situation it seemed interesting to you.

-Y/N, my name is Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots…. It is a pleasure to meet you, we read your project, it caught our attention, in part we need more human allies that promise us their commitment. If you decide to leave I will understand your motives but if you stay you will be apprenticed to one of our best doctors as well as learning about the coexistence you seek. Do we have your word?

You were trying to calm down when you saw that huge being kneeling in front of you and the rest of them looking at you, seeing that your nervous system was somewhat altered by the situation. Trying to calm down until you felt Lennox's hand on your shoulder as they were waiting for your answer.

You nodded as your mouth had gone dry trying to speak, the giant black robot was amused by your nervousness, he moved closer showing his cannons causing you to stumble to the ground, making him laugh.

-I like this squishy…. I'm going to like working with you

Well in the rest of the news they started to introduce you to the rest of the team, you already knew names like Ratchet, Optimus Prime, Ironhide, Sidewispe, etc. And the rest of the facilities, they put you in charge of working with Ratchet.

The weeks of adaptation were somewhat curious, as you were startled by every scare the twins and Sidewispe gave you.

Ratchet carefully taught you the systems of a robot to take care of them carefully: you learned the different parts of the body of a cybertronian, Ironhide taught you the workings of the weapons although his demonstrations still scared you so much firepower that you reflexively hid behind his leg.

Your favorite sessions were with Optimus, even though he was the biggest of them all, he was very nice to you… You started to get a little more trusting as you told each other about different experiences. He told you about his culture, his planet… You were more and more interested, he was also interested in your customs, your history. Besides, I know that his way of treating you was to carry you in his servos with care, sometimes he was contemplating, with his finger he touched your cheek, it was a strange contact but you felt quite comfortable. He had also put you on his shoulder. You didn't know if it was friendship you had with this bot, but you were happy to finally have a confidant.

You had been in NEST for a few months now, you learned quickly but there was something that had been bothering you in the last week about the behavior of a certain autobot leader.

At first it seemed to you that he was stressed out from the missions in order to find Megatron but every time you were near an Autobot he would get sideways and also with the humans you were working with. You don't talk like before either, every time you tried to talk to him alone he would disappear saying he had something else to do. This was starting to bother you a lot but with the meetings you didn't have the time or the moment.

-Y/N aren't paying attention to the lessons…. - Ratchet said as he tapped me on his digit.

-Sorry, Ratchet, I just had something else on my mind.

-You should be focused on where you are right now. Although I guess it's about Optimus right?

You were surprised to see that the doc bot had guessed it. Seeing your expression, he laughed at you a little.

-It's obvious, everyone at the base is aware of you… The truth is, we haven't seen Optimus happy with someone in millennia.

You sighed as I grabbed the tools and went to work on one of Ironhide's weapons.

-I don't understand his behavior lately… He's been acting so strange, I'm worried.

Ratchet cleared his throat as he became serious while forcing you to look at him with his digits on your chin - This business you should stay out of, y/n. He'll get over it, just try not to be alone with him.

You didn't understand why Ratchet gave you that advice you tried, he looked at you again - Believe me y/n, it's best to keep your distance from Optimus for now.

There was something you didn't understand about what was going on, you asked the rest of the Autobots about it, almost everyone gave you fuzzy answers about what was happening to the autobot leader, until you got to Ironhide who gave you another warning that left you even more surprised.

-Squishy, there are some things you shouldn't meddle with no matter how curious you are. Although if you solve your doubts I wish you luck so you can get out of it - said Ironhide

You were thoughtful about everything you had heard from the autobots, you missed Optimus since the last few months you had felt an attachment to the autobot leader that went beyond friendship with him. You admitted that you had fallen in love with that big guy with blue optics, his kindness, his authority and obviously his height and figure.

Although you were still curious about what was going on, you decided to follow the advice of the autobots not to be alone with the autobot leader for the time being. You were succeeding but every time you entered a room his gaze followed you everywhere. You literally felt like cat and mouse, there would come a time when cat would end up getting what he wanted even though you didn't know what.

Until one day when you were almost ready to leave because you had overstayed your welcome at the base, you heard a noise in the hangars.

Lennox and the military team explained to you that the farthest hangars of the base were for storage or special equipment for both autobots and humans. Something in your instincts told you that you should not go there but you decided to go out of curiosity, you opened the big door carefully, that place was dark so you stepped carefully not to touch anything dangerous.

Your nerves were on edge and the adrenaline was the only thing that kept you moving, you were getting closer to the source of the noise, at the same time you were seeing that there was smoke around, making this put you more alert than before, it was clear that you were not alone in this place.

You came to see a dim light at the back of the warehouse, it was difficult to pass with so many boxes around but you passed as you could. Finally you arrived carefully at the origin where you were surprised to see who was there.

It was Optimus, with his exhaust pipes producing smoke while on a large part of his body there was a pink liquid around his body.

You were about to approach to see if he was okay but you stopped when you heard him…

He was moaning?

He was at the same time rubbing what seemed to be his spike, while there was even more transfluid.

You remembered certain lessons that gave you some embarrassment from Ratchet. You were trying to remember but seeing the leader like that made you tingle. You shook your head it was clear you were not supposed to be here. You were going to tread carefully until you heard him moaning your name….

You tried to leave carefully until you bumped into one of the crates making a lot of noise.

-Who's there?" growled the autobot leader.

You tried to hide quickly only to feel a servo around your body. You closed your eyes, you were trembling at the sight.

-Look at me...

You opened your eyes to see how it was caressing you with its digits. - How long have you been here? - asked the autobot leader.

That tone made you shiver, it didn't seem like Optimus was the one he was talking to.

- I haven't seen anything, I'll leave without bothering...

-No... I've been avoiding this situation for the past few weeks, feeling jealous of the rest that came close to you and what hurts me the most is that you started avoiding me. My y/n... This time, you are going to stay by my side.

You didn't understand what was happening, until two of his fingers were touching your thighs making you shudder.

- You know how much I wanted you, your kindness and curiosity. Your smile, your beauty... and your figure. Oh Primus, my spike was begging to enter your body. To make you mine... I know you want it too

You moaned again, as you felt the pressure on your thighs... you were starting to feel hot I knew you should stop but at the same time you wanted to know where I wanted to go.

His optics were watching you seeing a smile on your face.

-Well I see that you agree....

Then you felt his glossa lick your neck and then kiss you while continuing the pressure on your thighs. Right now you were reacting to several streams of pleasure that you never thought was possible.

His digits removed your pants while he kept kissing you and you felt his glossa tasting your taste.

You moaned as you felt a digit around your entrance.

-I'm just preparing your body for the best part... let yourself go, my little one," he whispered in your ear as you felt his digit touching your insides moving up and down making you moan in different ways for the leader's pleasure while he whispered how much he wanted you, he loved you madly but at the same time he didn't want to scare you away.

You moaned again as you looked up at him.

- Then you too... - you said between moans as he digit around your walls.

-Yes... I love you and I need you...

You climaxed as he pulled out his digit and licked it. He smiled at you as you caught your breath. You thought you were going to rest but you saw he was bringing his spike closer.

-We're not done yet... I want to feel you more... Mine all mine

You were going to protest but you felt his spike enter inside of you and saw a big bulge through your body. He started to move slowly.

-You are so tight

As you gasped as you tried to take it, it overcame the digit. Once he adjusted to your body he began to move faster and faster and you both gasped at the same pace. He was about to climax, you fell in as he could.

-Wait I can't... ah! It's going to be too much.

-Ah! -Easy... i can't out! Ah! Oh Primus! - gasped Optimus as well.

You both climaxed as you felt your body fill with the transfluid.

Your belly completely swollen as he carefully removed his spike while some transfluid fell out.

-That was... Intense - you said while touching your belly - What happened to you?

Optimus kissed your forehead as he placed you close to his chest.

- We have heat cycles something your species would say in heat, I couldn't take it anymore.... I should have done it sooner though, my little one.

You smiled and I snuggled close.

-Then I won't move away next time.

Optimus chuckled and held you close.

You had learned a lesson from the heat cycles, something that was not to be the last time.

#sam writes #optimus prime #transformers #optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader #transformers x reader #robot x human #maccadam #maccadams #valveplug #transformers g/t #g/t #bayverse optimus prime #i wanted show this so long #i finally finished it #optimus #size difference

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fluff-n-cookies · 3 months ago

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Dabi made a deal with himself the second time he held you in his arms.

-----

Pt2 to this post.

Warnings: angst to comfort, Dabi yells at his daughter, apologizes soon after, Canon typical violence and crime, spoilers, Dabi is a warning of his own. foul language, please inform me if you find more

reader has blue eyes like Dabi's (she's a toddler, 3-4 years old)

Dabi calls reader bunny, Dabi is addressed as "Daddy"

Note: part 3 some time near the end of this month (hopefully)

taglist: @blurryperrtymoonlight @harkenizalone @lostiolite @rllytriedrn @mellyxqz @cupkiki @xxnessinessiellexx @dehlieee

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He made a point to remember it as best he could, to practically live by it in that exact moment.

it was midnight when he made such an oath, it was under the careful eye of the bustling city lights that peeked from a window that he promised himself, with you in his arms for the second time, ever.

well, not exactly the second time, he had been carrying you around town all day, either that or having you sit nearby as he ran to steal diapers and formula and what not. He knew he probably shouldn't be leaving a newborn child alone for too long, especially in an abandoned building such as the one he was stationed in right now. but taking you with him was arguably more dangerous, hence why he would consistently bolt to the nearest store and return, out of breath and sweaty. but it's what one has to do.

so after a long, long, long day of running around with a hangover and a crying baby. it was here as he was leaning against a wall, one with cracks in its paint. that he held you. truly held you. tracing burnt fingers along fragile soft skin and occasionally heating the swaddle up with his fire to keep you warm.

he even lit a tiny, tiny little flame, one as small as you, in the palm of his hand to get a good look at you. it being the only thing illuminating the darkness of the room.

"god, you are ugly."

was his first thought, but he seemed quite fond of you nonetheless. but minds like Touya's tend to wander.

you squirmed a little in his grip, occasionally babbling in his lap. that didn't matter much though as Dabi stared into the darkness of night. little thoughts bounced around in his skull.

you'll be a terrible father

they got louder

just like endeavor

even louder

this place is horrible for a child, she probably'll die from infection

please shut up.

you're failing already

thoughts now buzzed in his mind like wasps, stuffy and pounding, mangled and messy. so many thoughts, yet so little time.

you should leave her with an orphanage. at least someone will care for her there.

she has dad's eyes.

she'll end up hating you.

maybe Natsu or Fuyumi will take her-

NO.

his hands shook as he traced his finger over your cheek and fiddled around with the tiny wisps of your hair.

NO ONE'S GOING TO TAKE HER.

his breath picked up, once okay-ish breaths became jagged. no steady inhale or exhale, only sharp puffs in and out. IN OUT IN OUT IN OUT IN OUT IN OUT IN OUT IN OUT IN OUT IN--

I'll take care of her.

I'll be better than dad.

his breathing slowed. and you woke up. grumpy and sleepy. he smiled, he rocked you to sleep that night.

at least, that's the story of how his fate was sealed to be a father. a father with no money, no job, no house, no family. only an extensive criminal record and an infant daughter. and he thought he could make it work.

he ended up staying at a homeless shelter for a few days, living off on that, until he managed to steal make enough money until he was able to afford a motel were he stayed like that for a good year or so. moving from motel to motel until he made himself a reputation in the area. he learned how to be a father like that, taking care of you with only the help of mommy blogs and YouTube videos and all those nights where he'd start off by searching how to make baby formula better, but then 4 hours later he'd catch himself watching videos on how to help your child through their first period and crying about how his baby's going to grow up so soon. he ended up getting a condo not long after, only so you could finally have more stability in your life.

and he thought he could make it work.

he could not.

which is also how he came to regret this awful, awful, day. this horrendous, day. this day. this wretched day.

this day when he broke his promise

he wanted nothing more in that moment than to squeeze you tight to his chest and kiss your little face until you felt all better and forget this ever happened. to say sorry a million times over and dry your tears and hear your sweet laughter as he tells you crappy dad jokes just to see you smile. to forgive him, to know that he didn't mean to hurt you, it was an accident, it was just an accident, and he's sorry.

please. please just open the door. please. let him in.

open that goddamn door that he helped you paint a few months after you two moved in. that door that he painted white and let you finger paint all you wanted, you painted little flowers and bees and simply just smeared all the color you could find on it. it's your hand prints, side by side with some of his, it's that colorful mess that reminds him of you.

he grips the little plate of fruit in his hands harder. the slices of oranges and bananas formed into a smiley face quake in his hold. his breath, shaky as he hears the soft sound of your cries through the door, most certainly stuffing your face into your pillows to bawl your eyes out.

oh how did this happen? how did it come to this point? yes it was a hard week. a very hard week. having been scouted to join the league only recently and already preparing for their first attack on UA. he'd been at meetings all day to discuss their strategy and game plan, it seemed to carry on for years if not decades, yet, it had only been an hour. Shigaraki was just so annoying, yapping on about his hatred for heroes. please sir, shut the fuck up, no body cares, continue with your Canva slide show now how we are going to kidnap that one student from the sports festival.

that little brat Toga wasn't much better, creepy at that. Twice was just as annoying, constantly switching. spinner was bearable. but in no way is that what stain would have wanted to represent him. no. this is not right.

it didn't help much either that his skin was so fucking sensitive, having been brunt over and over again from quirk over usage, the burns growing darker and larger with every time he used his quirk. even his own clothes hurt him at that point, the horribly made jacket that he found in a dumpster worked away at his skin, tearing off each cell with it's thread. not to mention. Endeavor was climbing high, so high, he recently broke his own record of the number of civilians saved in a week and the public was going wild for it. practically every other news channel was covering it.

he clenched his jaw, bright turquoise eyes stared into the screen that flashed with endeavors flames, the bright orange being the only thing to illuminate the barren living room. one leg shook uncontrollably.

and you. you just wanted to help your dear old dad with dinner.

you didn't mean to drop that plate! it's true! all you wanted was to help your dad load up the dishwasher. after all, he's been complaining all day about how awful work has been, and when he wasn't complaining, he was silently grumbling at the news channels on the TV! he didn't even want to play Dolls with you today or ask you if you need help with your homework! it was weird, dad was never like this, no he was silly and sometimes rude, but he talked to you. why?

but with the loud crash of the plate and sound of a million little shards of glass scattering across the room came the yelling.

why was dad yelling at you? dad didn't yell.

he just keep shouting and yelling, calling you names. all his words were now jumbled, and loud, so loud, like those songs he listens to on the radio. the ones with the loud drums and music and words that you can understand. he called it "metal" music. what happened to your dad?! why was he being so mean? he called you a brat, he called you useless, he called you worthless. words that you didn't even understand but understood that he didn't say them with any love at all.

why, why why why why why why why why why why why why why----

everything was too much, you couldn't even focus on what he was saying. he was flailing his arms around making gestures and what not. little blue flames crawled from his hands and onto his shoulders. he- he was angry. very angry.

but wasn't the angry that he'd be when you get lost at the park only to show up 5 minutes later, not the angry when he'd find you accidentally spilled all the glitter into the carpet, it surely wasn't the angry he'd be when you accidentally hurt yourself while trying to do something stupid that he told you a million times over not to.

no! no! no! this was the angry that he'd be when that man would come on screen in the middle of a show.

you've broken plates before, plates, bowls, glasses, windows, beds, his ear drums, all at least once. and every time, he didn't get that angry. he'd just sigh like he was disappointed, before checking you for injuries and patching you up with eh unicorn stickers you picked out. he never yelled, only lectured. why as he yelling now!

nothing made sense anymore, the thoughts in your head jumbled and messy and blurry and weird and murky and sad and mean and everything thoughts should not be. why was he angry at you?

everything was suddenly so blurry as the tears welled up in your eyes, one single droplet made it's way down your cheek and crashed into the ground along with the shattered glass of the plate. it stung, the saltiness of those tears stung, everything hurt, please just. make it stop. make it stop.

I suppose it was the tears that finally brought Dabi out of that haze of anger.

this face dropped. what had he done? to his daughter. he swore he'd never...

everything was quiet all of a sudden, apart from the soft sniffles and the creaking of floor tiles as Dabi tried to move closer to you. an expressionless look on his face and eyes that held all the sorrow in the world as he silently watched you cry. Dabi, no, Touya, had yelled at his daughter, and then mad her cry.

why? why is it that of a sudden, everything was normal again, it was quiet like it was normal, and he was acting like everything was normal? it was normal, and it wasn't okay. oh wow can anything be okay after that t he was so mean it's not okay it will never be okay he isn't sorry he's mean. he's a bully! he hates you and he's mean and and and and and and and and... Dad said he loved you. did he lie?

it's getting hard to think, it's hard to speak now for no reason. what is happening! you should run, you should run and scream and cry and I don't know anymore!

so... so you ran, to your room, and you're there. little tiny cuts littered the soles of your feet, from the glass of the plate.

and he's out here. on the other side of your room. holding that damn plate of fruit, the ceramic heating up in his fiery hold.

this was so stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. he was just tired, but rather than being... y'know... a good father. he could hear Endeavor's voice in his own. he could feel the sting of blood seeping from the brunt flap of his tear ducts.

he brought up this hand, practically quivering, the staples practically coming undone from how hard he gripped his arms after you left. the dead cells flaking off beneath his finger nails.

knock knock

please open the door before he kills himself.

a tiny fragile little voice erupts

"no! go away! i- hic don't wanna talk to you..."

oh God it's over, it's over he can't. he really can't. he said he'd protect you, bunny, please just... he wanted to be a good dad.

"I... (Y/n). I'm so s-sorry."

why is it that the sniffles and soft whimpers stop now.

"baby, please, I'm sorry, daddy's sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. can- can we talk?"

silence, then the soft sound of pitter patter on the floorboards make their way closer, and closer. the little jingle of the door handle as you pull at it to get it open.

he's the one that's meant to be helping you open that damn door, you're too short to do it on your own! you, you need him, you need him to help you an you save you and you...

more importantly I guess...

the door creaks open, just a little, he's able to catch a glimpse of your locks of hair, messy, unlike this morning when he did it before you went off to school. have you been pulling at your own hair?

he makes his way through, he tiptoes between the trenches that is your bedroom. pinkish in all the most annoying ways. but, you are seemingly the most annoying of all! a brat, but you're his brat. and you're crying. right there. under your extra fluffy blankets.

the bed creaks softly as he sits down. he doesn't dare look you in the eyes. the plate of fruit securely in his hold.

"(Y/n)."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled,

I was angry, not at you, never you,

but you were there.

and I'm sorry."

silence.

"I cleaned up the plate, are you hurt?

well, there's bandages, if you do I'll get some disinfectant."

silence

"um, I cut you up some fruits too,

I know how much you like watermelon."

silence

"I'll leave you alone now."

a peep.

"dad?" the blankets shuffle.

"y-yeah, bunny?"

"sorry for dropping the plate. and breaking it." he can see your face now, reddish and teary, your eyes look bloodshot! Jesus, how hard where you crying-

"Oh, it's okay, it's only a plate..."

"do you..."

"do I what, bun?"

"do you not love me anymore?"

he will always love you, more than the moon and the sun and the stars and the sea and green grass of spring and the warmth of summer nights and the sting of alcohol down your throat more than the righteous angels love themselves.

"oh, oh bunny,

I will always, always, love you."

he leaned over scooping you up into his arms, placing your tiny little toddler body into his lap.

"don't forget that, don't you ever forget that, daddy loves you, I will always love you no matter what."

his thumb brushed away all those pesky wisps of hair that float in front of your face, sticking to wet cheeks.

and he smiled, a crooked, but loving smile, a smile.

and you smiled back. even through your pain you smiled. oh. oh Thank God! you forgave him. he'd probably carve out his heart in a fit of insanity if you didn't.

"I love you too, daddy."

-----

I lost my mind halfway through this fic. god it sounds so cringe ugghghghfdhgdgdkjgdjhg[ihga[ieshgtpwiuefhwugot4bvaw6eygsdddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddjfsfhsfshjsj oh well, block me if you don't like it I guess

my stuff is right here: Bnha master list, rules for requesting, ask box

send me an ask, I fucking love hearing from you guys.

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minhosimthings · 5 months ago

Text

The Fallen One || 18+

Synopsis: For the final day of the pact, you find yourself intoxicated by the man you've yearned for, forever.

Pairings: detective!Jay × fem!reader

Warnings: smut minors Dni, fingering, cock riding, p in v sex, unprotected sex (not for you), reader has like three orgasms?, Jay's just really obsessed, Fluffy in the end, swearing, mention of food and alcohol, final fuck you to Heeseung yay

A/N: I haven't been able to carry out with my og plot in this fic because I, like an idiot, forgot I included bondage and i just wrote everything and now I neither have the heart nor the energy to write anything else, so to all my babies who wanted bondage, there's a fic in my wips for y'all. Anywho I had fun working on this series! Thank you for all the support that got me through writing everything and I hope next time my brain remembers to write WHAT WAS INTENDED IN THE FIRST PLACE-

Series Masterlist

Jay's calloused fingers nudged a mauve hued record back into its place, near and tidy on an oak shelf slightly shorter than him. His eyes travelled to another section of the shelf, where his hands picked up an olive green record, silently sitting at the back, overshadowed by the bright blues that surrounded it.

His mouth stretched into a thin quiet smile as he gently took the vinyl out, admiring its sleek look in the faint light of his bedroom, before he set it to it's position on his record player. Picking up his glass of dark red wine, Jay toyed with the sharp needle of the nostalgia emitting record player, before setting it onto the spinning vinyl.

The sound of stiff bones cracking was heard as he plopped down on his armchair near the warm fireplace, wine in hand, with hypnotising music playing in the background. Sipping his wine, he stared at the fire place, watching as every flame danced to the music, some did the tango, while some did the ballet.

Don't think about her, he thought to himself, anything but her.

Jay sighed heavily to himself as he twirled the last remnants of the wine in his glass, he had no idea how fast he had drunk it. He could hear rain pattering away mercilessly outside whilst the hours ticked away as he waited for tomorrow to come and whisk him away.

The second sigh of the evening dropped seethingly from his mouth as his eyes fluttered over to the picture frames on the wall. He smiled as he ran his eyes over the memories of old, forever remembered in hues and colours, lest they ever leave his mind.

A picture of him and his parents stood proud next to a ridiculous picture of him, Sunghoon and Jake standing next to a lake. He laughed as he recalled how they had fell into the murky water that day, pushing each other in, until everything ended in dirty clothes and raucous laughter. Another picture stood rather drab next to the bright coloured photos of Jay with his boss, recieving an award. The picture was dusty, as if it has been avoided by Jay when he was cleaning it.

Jay's eyes paused at the dust spiders on the picture and he walked near it, peering to see the picture that was held inside the carved frame.

Him, a woman and Heeseung, with smiles imprinted on your faces, against a backdrop of what looked like a school building. Jay gently took the picture of of the wall, it slid easily off the wallpaper, and set it down on the table. If anyone had asked him later on for how long he had stared at it with confused thoughts, he'd have responded with a confused look.

If only she had chosen me, he thought, if only....

The third exhausted sigh came as Jay realised he should probably sleeping, glancing at the clock to notice that it was 3 am in the morning already. He'd only get a few hours of sleep, but something was better was nothing, and for him, three hours of sleep was more than enough. And if it was on his beloved armchair next to a cozy fire? He might as well have announced Christmas dinner.

Jay plopped onto his armchair once more, now folding up his legs to snuggle into the seat, all warm next to the crackling fire, with the sound of rain making him drift off to sleep.

He made sure, by whatever ill will, to glance at the dusty picture he set on the table once more, peer at the intoxicating smile of the woman, and the man next to her, his arm wrapped around her waist protectively. Jay thought his face looked rather sour in the picture, the memories of it were even sourer but dawn was no time to think of them.

And so he went off to sleep at last, fighting off troubled thoughts and an uneasy heart.

If only she had chosen me.

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|

"Where did you say Y/N was staying again?" Sunghoon looked up from his pile of paperwork to answer the questioning voice.

"Baker's Street." He answered in his usual condescending voice, "Why do you ask?"

Jay shrugged in response to his friend's question, quickly pretending to be interested in his own pile of paperwork, though Sunghoon was quick to notice the tiny smile dancing on his lips. "Jongsoeng don't tell me you're going to do anything stupid."

"You're telling that to me?" Jay laughed, which came out more like a scoff, "I'll be fine."

"Don't buy her cake like I did." Jake commented from the other side, a pen stuck behind his ear, "Unless you want Mr Fuck Up over there to intervene." He lowered his voice with the last words, glaring towards Heeseung, who was working on the other side of the office.

Jay hadn't exactly been careful all day around Heeseung, treating him normally, though he did make sure to amplify his voice when speaking your name. Such as now, when he had asked Sunghoon where you were staying. He had no intention to make Heeseung jealous or anything. No, he had a firm desire to make Heeseung jealous and angry.

"Jay can I talk to you for a second?"

Speak of the devil.

Jay looked up from his paperwork (quick to change his expression from annoyed to normal) to see Heeseung staring at him with a weird look.

"I need to talk to you." Heeseung repeated, causing Jay to internally cringe. "What about?" Jay asked, to which Heeseung looked around before grabbing Jay's arms and dragging him (against his will) to the empty break room.

"I need to talk about—" Heeseung paused, taking a breath, "—about Y/N."

"What about her?" Jay asked, voice remaining calm, though his knuckles were certainly gripping the edge of the table he leant on, very tightly, "She's doing well, if you wanted to ask."

"Jay come on." Heeseung sighed, "I know about this little pact between you guys and Y/N and–" he fiddled with his fingers, "I know I've had some downs, but I really need to apologise to Y/N. I've ditched Yeo-Hee anyway, and–" he chuckled, "–can we not let bygones be bygones?"

"Bygones be bygones?" Jay let out a cold laugh, the expression on his face was terrifying and though Heeseung wouldn't have admitted it, he was scared, "Since when have you been using that phrase? Since high school I reckon?" Jay laughed again, "Ahh fuck I don't even understand why she even kept up with your cheating ass for so long. Tell me Heeseung," he leaned forward to look Heeseung menacingly in the eye, "Did you ever really love her?"

"Love her?" Heeseung responded, "Of course I love her, she's my wif-"

"Then will you tell her about Ji-ah from the other section or should I?"

"You wouldn't." Heeseung stared Jay down, though he was taller and older than him, he felt as if a hurricane was interrogating him, "Jay you can't. You know she'll never forgive me."

"She shouldn't." Jay laced his words with venom, "She should never forgive a fucking bastard like you."

"Ok fine." Heeseung sighed, "Can you atleast tell her I'm sorry?"

"Tell her yourself, coward." Jay quipped, which perhaps was a mistake, when he looked at Heeseung's angry expression.

"Coward?" Heeseung laughed, "Wouldn't that be more fitting for you, Jongsoeng?" He stepped forward, "If you hadn't been a coward with poor heartbroken 16 year old Y/N, we probably wouldn't be here and I'd be thankful I hadn't ever dated that bitch."

Heeseung couldn't comprehend what has happened in the next few moments. All he could recall if you had asked him now what happened, was a loud thud, his back against a wall, Jay's cat like eyes becoming deadly and Jake and Sunghoon's shocked faces.

"Don't you call her that, you insipid jackass." Jay snarled at the older man, with his hands gripping the collar of Heeseung's shirt tightly, whilst pressing him to the wall, "Don't you ever call her anything less than what you fucking are. A coward, and a cheat." Jay released his grip on Heeseung's shirt with a guffaw, before stepping out of the room, leaving behind an air of tension and fear.

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|

Your eyes scanned the room nervously, as you eased into the maroon hued armchair. The anxiety you held within you at the moment, was easily captured by the way you were fiddling with your fingers and biting your bottom lip until you tasted iron in your mouth.

It's just Jay, you reminded yourself, the man you've had a crush on since forever, it's just him.

"Keep biting that lip of yours and you're going to lose it." Jay chuckled, walking in with mugs of tea in his hand, "Still haven't lost that habit have you doll?"

"Well with you no longer there to remind me–" you graciously accepted the mug, noting carefully how his fingers brushed against yours, "–its become an addiction."

"Well, I'll make sure to write to you everyday not to bite your lip." He joked, making you laugh. God he looked heavenly, you thought, figure clad in his loose white button up, the one he wore to work, combined with a blue trouser which framed his thighs perfectly.

"You-you look good." You said, in a timid fashion, making Jay look up from his mug and smile at you.

"As do you, doll." He grinned. The cocoons in your stomach erupted into a thousand butterflies at the nickname. It was what he used to call you in high school, mainly to tease you, and partly (or rather secretly) to compliment your beauty.

"Heeseung asked me to apologise to you." Jay chuckled coldly, interrupting your train of thoughts, "Bastard came up to me at work and just bombarded me with requests." He looked up at you before continuing, "He wants you to know that he's broken up with the other girl, Yeo-Hee or whoever."

"Oh." You responded, not exactly knowing what a good response would be, "Well—good, I guess." You said, not adding anything until a few minutes of silence passed, "Does the idiot really think he can get me back with a simple apology?"

"He does." Jay set his mug down on the table, easing into his chair, "If it were me, I'd have written a thousand pages of poetry for you."

"You wouldn't have ever done what he did."

"Wouldn't I?" Jay's eyes perked up at you, shadowed with a kind of darkness you've never seen before.

"No you wouldn't." You responded, "I know you wouldn't, you're too...perfect for that."

"Perfect?" Jay laughed mockingly, "Y/N if I were perfect, we wouldn't be in this situation–" he didn't know where his words were coming from, "–and you'd have never married that fucker!"

Jay's sudden amplified voice made you flinch, you had heard that voice on only one occasion before and it was not a pretty thing to hear at all.

"Jay....."

"I'm sorry." Jay sighed, running his hand through his hair, "This is a mistake–I'll drop you off at home if you don't want this anymore-"

"Oh my God, you're an idiot." You said, stopping Jay's rambling and causing him to look up at you with confused eyes, "Do you really think I'll skip this just because you raised your voice?"

"No I meant–" Jay sighed again, getting up from his armchair suddenly and packing around the room, a habit he had from childhood, "–I know things aren't really sunshine and rainbows between us, and you probably don't feel comfy fucking someone who's been with you since high school so–fuck I'm rambling." He mumbled the last part under his breath, taking a deep breath, before continuing, "Y/N, what I want to say is–I'm sorry." He looked at you again, "I'm sorry for not being good enough for you, but please–" he knelt down in front of you, so you could be at eye level, "–forgive me, if you still can."

"Oh my god you idiotic dunce." You laughed at him, causing his expression to change to one of confusion.

Jay didn't have time to register what happened next, the only feeling his mind knew was the touch of your soft, familiar lips on his, the mere atoms that existed between you, now faded away as you ravaged each other, each attempt to get closer, an attempt of love and confusion.

"Fuck, doll," he groaned, your foreheads leaning against one another, his hands gripping the fabric on your waist. You looked up into his eyes, witnessing the inner battle reflected in his gaze as he grappled with the decision to restrain himself or not.

"Fuck it." He finally said, grabbing your face with his hands and pulling you towards him for yet another kiss.

He kissed you like he was dying, his body subconsciously reacting more to the kiss then he’d wish it to. He pulled your flush against him, his strong hands coming to cup your face, his shoulders shrugging in a futile attempt to have you closer. Jay opened his mouth, causing you to gasp at the feeling of his tongue against yours. Your mouth moved with his as if it was known to you; As if this was a dance you had practiced for years to perfect, as if the dance of your lips was a song that Jay had mastered just for you.

"Jay I-" you hesitated for a moment, what if he didn't say it back?, "I love you." His eyes—the color of an intoxicating champagne—beckoned you over with nothing more than a tired smile.

"Oh sweetheart," Jay's hand brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, "You have no idea how long I've been wanting to hear that."

His mouth hesitantly chased yours until you brushed your fingers through his hair and pulled him towards you, finally connecting your lips again. His touch was gentle, almost like he wanted to be careful with you. Yet, you wanted to breathe him in—lustfully addicted to the taste of his lips.

His palms laid flat against the curvature of your back whilst your hands grabbed at his collar, pulling him flush against you—the throbbing between your legs did anything but lessen with the close proximity.

Jay had never before tasted something sweeter; your saccharine lips fit so perfectly against his—he was convinced that they were made for him to kiss and caress. His cock stirred in his pants for he could only wonder how divine your cunt would taste on his tongue. Jay needed it all. he trailed his fingers up your front, pinning the fabric of his shirt over your tits. His fingertips dance across your skin as he detached his lips from yours.

"Wait Y/N–" Jay pulled away, leaving you chasing after him, "Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes," You breathed, pressing a kiss to his lips, "Fuck yes I want this."

Jay needed no more words from you as his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, as you kissed him back, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Wait a minute love." Jay mumbled into your ear. Slipping his arms beneath you, he lifted you into his arms, his hands squeezing your ass as you wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms round his neck for support. Jay led you to the adjacent room, presumably his bedroom, setting you down with care on his bed.

As soon as you were settled on the mattress, Jay's senses ravaged on you. His hands grabbed your face, pulling your lips against his in a passionate kiss. You could taste the bitterness in his mouth, perhaps from an afternoon shot of bourbon, the familiar scent of his cologne filling your senses. Jay's hands moved down your body, tracing the curves of your hips as he pulled you closer. As Jay's hands continued to explore your body, you couldn't help but sigh. "fuck Jay."

"Shh doll." Jay shushed you, "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

Your clothes quickly fell to a pile on the floor, and Jay's lips found your neck, leaving a trail of sweet but rough kisses. His touch was urgent and passionate, a release of the pent-up energy that had been building up all day.

Soon, he was pushing your underwear to the side, revealing your slick folds to him. The warm atmosphere of the room kissed your cunt with a breeze, eliciting a shallow gasp from you.

"Wet for me already, doll?" Jay smirked, his eyes travelling up and down your body, as if he was a saint worshiping his patron goddess. His low chuckle vibrated throughout your entire being, sending you into that same state you were in when you drank the aphrodisiac at Sunghoon's house. It was pathetic on your part that Jay had managed to get you like this without so much as sticking his fingers in you.

"Jay stop teasing-“ the words die on your tongue and you gasp for air, fingers pulling at his soft locks as he prods his fingers at your entrance. Your cunt sucked him in with ease—his long fingers fucking deep into your pussy. Your hand swiftly gripped the edge of the bedsheet until he placed his hand over yours—gently intertwining your fingers while you arch your back in pleasure.

Jay leaves one final kiss to your lips before leaning back and forcing your knee down with his left hand. He was locked in a trance, watching the way your pussy would gush every time his fingers would pump inside of you. His fingers rapidly disappeared past your folds as you cried out.

Your hands frailly clawed at his wrist, only to be swatted away while he kept his pace—eyes trained on your precious cunt.

With parted lips, you brought your gaze down to glance his fingers as they were buried knuckle-deep inside of you, you couldn’t even hint for him to stop, not that you wanted him to anyway. How could you? With the way he was beginning to curl his fingers forward, pushing against your slick walls, it was nearly impossible to push him away. The feeling alone forced a chain of whimpers from your mouth, only encouraging him to do more.

He continued to fuck you with his fingers, pushing and pulling them out of you with a growing sense of urgency. Eventually, he was leaning down to connect his lips with your nipple before beginning to suck on the sensitive bud with haste.

"Jay—ahhh." You draw out a raspy moan, feeling his tongue circle around your nipple, "Jay I—"

But before you could even finish your sentence, your larynx was screaming out his name like it was gospel, as you came messily all over his fingers. Jay smirked, as he gazed at your beautiful, fucked out face, his dick positively bursting from how much he wanted to absolutely ruin you.

"Eyes on me, doll." Jay commanded, you moved your pupils to face him. He looked absolutely breathtaking, towering above you. You winced as his fingers dug deep into your waist, he lifted you up with ease and propped you on top of him. Your positions were now switched, and you had no idea what to do.

"Go ahead and take my pants off." He told you. You happily obliged, your fingers were practically scrambling to unzip his pants, as you tore them off of his legs, revealing the cause of his earlier bulge. You hum at the sight of his cock, licking your lips as you swipe a thumb over the angry red tip, spreading a bead of precum over it, causing Jay to let out an almost inaudible moan.

"Now—" Jay sighed, hard enough from the feeling of your fingers on his length, "Be a good girl and ride my cock."

Your eyes widened at his words. You were delighted, of course, at the mere prospect of having his dick to yourself. Unfortunately for you, you had no idea how to tell him you didn't know how to do what he wanted you to do.

"I can't." You mumbled underneath your breath, causing Jay to chuckle.

"Speak up sweetheart, I can't hear you."

"I don't know to do it!" You said, more agressively than you had intended to say it. But Jay just laughed again, this time it was more of a mocking one than amused.

"Oh sweetheart." He extended a hand up to your face, cupping your cheek, his hand was warmer than your face so you melted into his touch, "Want me to help you?"

You did nothing but simply nod, feeling slightly ashamed and slightly insecure about the fact that your brain was telling you, you've disappointed him.

"What's going on in that brain of yours hmm?" Jay grabbed your hips pulling you down onto his stomach, "Scared, doll?"

"No—no!" You panicked, "It's just that—what if I don't...do it correct?"

"Doll, do you really think I'd be mad at that?" Jay raised a brow at you, which quickly turned into a expression of concern, "Did Heeseung ever do that to you?"

"Sometimes." You mumbled underneath your breath, "He'd get mad at me if I didn't know."

"Fucking bastard." Jay said, his hands gripped your hips tighter, as his eyes wandered all over your body. He couldn't bring himself to even comprehend how Heeseung could have behaved like that with you.

"I-I do know some things." You started, adjusting your body on Jay's stomach, "I know how to—" you paused, "—get on."

You felt your cheeks heat up rapidly as you internally slapped your forehead. Jay chuckled at your embarrassed expression, hands still digging into your hip.

"Alright then." Jay said, freeing his hands from your body, "Go on."

Sighing, Jay lies back down, hips going still. You shift yourself so that your pussy is lined up with his cock, using a hand to brush the tip against your folds, never going further than that. Jay lets out a whimper at the teasing sensation.

"Fuck doll—don't tease..." Jay sighs in pleasure, as you lift yourself up, hands on either of his shoulders. Both of you let out a collective, satisfied moan as you slowly sink down on his length, feeling it stretch open your cunt slow and steady. Jay groaned again as you gripped him tighter to balance yourself. His hands found their way back to your hips.

"shhh." Jay's big hands continued to roam around your body, one landing on the small of your back and the other massaging and cupping your tits. He used his hand on your back to push you down further.

"breathe, love, i'll help you." when you finally sank all the way down onto his cock, when Jay was finally buried balls-deep in your pretty little pussy, it felt so amazing because you were so so full.

No one had ever been so deep inside you. His cock was kissing your cervix, and it had your pussy clenching down on him so tightly that you thought it might be a little hard to move.

“Fuck.” You lift your hips, and slowly ease yourself down again. Lustful whimpers and moans escaped you as you slowly repeated your motions, feeling almost dizzy at the way his big cock was stretching you out. His dick felt so fucking good; hot and throbbing and aching to burst inside you.

Throwing whatever scrap of inhibition you have left, you raise your lower body before roughly slamming your ass back down. The harsh movement makes you cry out in pleasure. You start to move eagerly, not holding back any of your movements.

Once you got started, you couldn't stop the rhythm — up and down up and down up and down — until your vision began to blur from how fucking good it felt. His cock hits deep inside you, stretching out your tight little hole with every bounce.

Jay's view from below you was incredible. tits bouncing, head flung back, and moans pornographic — it was all enough to drive a man mad. he couldn't keep his hands off of you. whether they were gripping at your thighs to keep you warm on his dick, or gripping and pinching at your nipples, or running them over your back hard enough to leave scratch marks, they were constantly in motion — worshipping your beautiful body.

"You're so—fuck—pretty." Jay cooed at you, ignoring the sharp pain on his shoulders with how you were digging your nails into his skin, "be a good doll for me now."

You were straddling him, your head thrown back with both hands on his shoulders as you tried to keep a quick pace. He had his hands pressed deep into your hips, helping you move in a fluid motion. You felt him hit your sweet spot every time you made your way down, letting out tiny whimpers at the feeling.

"Fuck doll—" Jay moaned, he was loving the way you were using him for you own pleasure, "G-Good girl, you're a good girl for me aren't you?"

You couldn’t hold in the loud moan you had been holding in for a long time, feeling your stomach flutter at his words. You felt a slight burning in your thighs and you knew Jay's shoulders held tiny crescent shapes from how tight your grip had become. You felt one of Jay's hands move to your clit, rubbing small circles on the bundle of nerves.

A pathetic whimper escaped your lips as you felt a familiar fire burn in your core, edging ever closer as you drove yourself to the end of the tunnel. It didn't help that Jay perked his hips up, practically slamming his tip into the deepest crevices of your pussy and driving you insane as you finally came down.

Your moans grow louder, echoing on the walls as you feel the impending climax. "I'm cumming! Oh god, don't stop!" Each word is punctuated by a sharp intake of breath and a quivering sensation throughout your body. Your pussy gripped tightly around him, milking his cock with every thrust. Your legs tremble and your body shivers, wracked with pleasure as your orgasm crashes over you. "Fuck, I’m cumming!”

Gazing at your drunken being, Jay took the opportunity to harshly grab your hips, and bring you down underneath him. Your back hit the mattress roughly, as you felt nothing but his cum still in your walls.

You were awoken out of your cock-drunk stupor by the harmonious taste of Jay's lips, as he kissed you, his hands circling your breasts

His neck muscles strained as he deepened the kiss. You broke the kiss as you looked down at him, your breathing uneven. The low lighting making him look absolutely ravishing. Freshly kissed lips made them redder as his eyes droopy from the lust behind them, looking at you.

"Jay please..." You trailed off, feeling exhausted from the expert riding lesson.

"Please what doll?" Jay chuckles into your neck, his tip teasing your labia. "Jay–need—your cock." You throat out. The room felt like it was spinning at a fast rate as Jay chuckled again. His cologne was like poison to you, wrapping you in tight corridors of pleasure and pain.

"Fuck, you're such a dumb doll for me aren't you?” he prompts, moving closer. He spits into his hand, pumping the moisture over his cock before positioning himself above you. You whimper as his tip touches your labia, he wasn't giving you what you wanted anytime soon, and you were getting impatient.

"Jay—" you say his name like a prayer your tongue had memorised, "—Jay, please..."

"Dumb fucking doll." Jay muttered under his breath, gripping your chin with his two fingers. He went in for a filthy, messy kiss, before you were cry out, the feeling of him pushing into you driving you mad.

Taking his dick between one hand, Jay slapped your ass in the other as he rubbed out the red imprint beginning to spread beneath his fingers. You vulnerably flinched at the feeling, letting a low moan out as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Rubbing his sensitive tip against your pussy, he hissed through his teeth at the feeling before lining himself up with your entrance. Holding your hips in his hands, he gripped his fingers on your skin as he pushed himself inside of you between your folds, equally pulling your hips back on his cock, your warmth instantly wrapping around him as your lips parted at the feeling, letting a moan out into the bed.

Waves of pleasure accompany the sting of the stretch, and your eyes flutter as he rocks slowly into you. He’s watching the way his cock splits you open, low grunts coming from deep in his chest. He shifts, one hand pressing on your lower stomach, thumb swirling over your clit. you cry out, head falling back onto the pillows. The other hand lifts one of your legs, pushing it towards your chest.

"Jay–ah-ahh" You moaned loudly, holding onto his biceps and burying your face into the crook of his neck. His hand slid in between your bodies, reaching down to your clit and rubbing rough circles, increasing the immense amount of pleasure you were experiencing.

Jay’s thrusting became faster, harder, like a man starved. His grasp on your chin returned to your hips. As Jay rolled back slightly, sitting on his knees, he brought your hips to meet his, your back still on the bed. From this angle he has full control over your body, not that he hadn’t before. But now he could control his thrusts, making them sharper, harder. Beneath him, your eyes screw shut in pleasure, consumed by his ministrations. You look beautiful like this, he thought.

Cheeks red, hair a mess, sweat glistening on your skin, he had been a fool not to have claimed you as his before. His wife, he thought, his and his only. "Ohh fuck!" You whined, feeling Jay's cock drill into you, hitting that perfect spot in your tight cunt. You were powerless underneath him, his balls slapping against your pussy with each thrust, his hands snaking around your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist as he pounded into you. He groaned in pleasure, leaning down and softly nibbling your earlobe,

"god, you're fucking amazing." His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he picked up the pace, his cock slamming into you with increasing intensity. He was merciless, taking what he wanted, dominating your body perfectly.

Jay's fingers dig deeper into my skin as he pounds into you, his dick was slamming against your most sensitive spot with every thrust. His hands slide up your back, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls my head back

"you're gonna look so pretty when you're all full of me, doll," he moans out and grabs your hips tightly with his rough hands, holding you in place as he slams into you.

Jay's hand slides from your hip to your clit, his fingers rubbing against it in slow, deliberate circles. You moan, your body trembling beneath him as he continues to thrust into you, his thick cock filling you completely.

His fingers move faster, his touch becoming more insistent as he rubs your clit, his movements matching the rhythm of his hips.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling with every touch, every thrust. Jay's breath is hot against your ear, his voice husky with desire as he whispers sweet nothings against your skin.

You came hard and threw your eyes back, twisting your body and separating yourself from Jay's mouth in a desperate search for air. His chest was heaving, his skin was flushed and sweaty, your sex was still eagerly sucking the other's length that kept burying itself to the bottom in you, and then leaving and entering again as if it were predestined for that.

"Fuck, you're so hot." Jay moaned loudly, as he felt your pussy suffocate his length, "Fuck—you want my cum sweetheart?"

"Jay—oh fuck!" You gasped loudly, "N-Need your cum–please."

Jay groaned, you saw his Adam's apple protrude in his throat and you gasped, feeling him move slightly in your pussy.

"that's it doll, cum for me, fuck—just like that." He drawled out in a lazy whisper.

Jay rested his forehead on your collarbone and let out several low moans before cumming inside you. After recovering from the orgasm, he stood up again between your legs with a sigh, looked at your union dripping with fluids and came out of you, putting the semen that flowed from your entrance back inside with his fingers, making sure that everything stayed trapped inside you.

A painful emptiness was left in you when Jay slowly pulled out, with a train of curses escaping from his mouth, as he lay down next to you. You both lay in silence, with the only sound being the sound of your laboured breathing.

"So—" Jay broke the silence, "—what now?"

"What now?" You asked the same question back, with a slight chuckle as Jay smiled at you, "Do you want to get up or do you want to stay here for some more time?"

"I'd prefer the latter." He answered, scooting himself closer to you, "Unless you want to take a bath?"

You hummed in response, taking the invite to wrap yourself in his arms. Evidently, neither of you were interested in leaving the bedroom.

"Jay?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you too doll."

Taglist: @diorsyun @jaeyunluvr @hoondrop @mxxninthesky @alvojake @wondipity @blurryriki @lilyuwon @heeliopheelia @pshazez @heeslomll @seunghancore @shiningnono @deobitifull @luvitria @nyfwyeonjun @hwa-0403 @bubblegyu00 @sunpov @heeheeswifey @chartrucewhore @slut4hee @heesangs-blog @rikiwaify-blog @hirablackcat @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @kirinaa08 @heeshlove @seokseokjinkim @brownsugarbaybee @yzzyhee @anittamaxwynnn @kgneptun @penny44224 @ribbioniki @strxwbloody @immelissaaa @nshmrarki @yawnzzhoon @sousydive @yunhoswrldddd @whateverhoon @cloud-lyy @missychief1404 @ensaz008 @sunsunl0ver @binniesbabe @oneheart-break @skzenhalove

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 7 months ago

Text

"You're not goin' out there!" Daryl growled.

You scoffed. "Yes, I am," you spat back, reaching for your pack.

He stepped into the doorway and planted his feet. "The hell ya are," he said, his tone low and dangerous.

"Who the hell are you to tell what I can and can't do?! You've been gone for months! You can't just waltz in here and—"

Daryl boiled over and suddenly he was yelling at you without meaning to. "I woulda died for you! I think that gives me some damn leeway for waltzin'!"

You broke off, completely stunned by his urgency and response. His chest was heaving and the color in his eyes seemed to flare and flicker like a blue flame. "I—I'd still die for ya... just to be clear..." he finished. "But I ain't lettin' ya run into this. Ya can't go out there. We both know there ain't no comin' back from that if ya do. So, please. Just stay. If I gotta lock ya in a damn closet to keep ya safe I will."

You stared at him for a long, tense moment. Your brow was creased and your eyes were cast in shadow until you broke the silence again. You sighed. "Well, the only closet in this place is missing a door so..."

"Fine. Then, I'll—roll ya up in a big rug or somethin'. I dunno..."

You let out an amused exhale and cracked a tiny smile. "A big rug?"

He ran a hand back through his wavy hair and shrugged. "Tie ya up in a sack?"

"Your ideas keep getting worse and worse. I better not push my luck." You sank down on the couch, your arms crossed. Daryl was still standing in the doorway like he expected you to bolt at any moment. "I don't want you to die for me. Just for the record."

Daryl ducked his head, nodding. "Yeah... I know. But I would."

Prompt: "You can't just waltz in here and—" / "I would've died for you! I think that gives me some leeway for waltzing!"

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #protective!daryl

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reidmoony-toast · 2 months ago

Text

Orange Juice. ౨ৎ

"Feels like I've been ready for you to come home for so long"

Spencer x fem singer!reader

The two times they miss each other, and the one time they don't

content: no use of y/n, so much fluff, pining

cw: literally nothing!! <3

wc: 2.6k

an: This has taken me SO LONG and I'm not very proud of it 😭 Anyways hope you enjoy, ily xx

| pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | series masterlist ౨ৎ

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She was dreaming of him when she woke up. She groaned, burying her face into the crisp white mass of her hotel pillow. Sun filtered through the large windows, dust motes dancing in between the rays of light.

The sky was a vibrant blue, only a select few clouds scattered across its expanse. The trees on the opposite side of the street swayed in a gentle breeze, looking content and greener than ever.

For Virginia, it was beautiful weather. A perfect day. Usually, on a day like today, she would be bounding out of bed to start her morning bright and early. But, she had been dreaming of him, and that wasn't something she wanted to wake up from.

She was back in Virginia to record a few songs for her new album—it was, apparently, filled with a few too many sad songs, mostly about her previous breakup.

Her producer had told her to ‘go away and write some more upbeat songs’ to give the album more variety, and to make it more like her last album.

She cringed just thinking about it. What the hell was she supposed to write about? No immediate inspiration had struck, and she was starting to think that she wasn't cut out for happy songs anymore. And that was a depressing thought.

She gave up on going back to sleep, instead getting up slowly, with another groan, as her limbs protested from the sudden movement. She stretched, yawning, as she tried to recall her dream.

It had been good, she remembered that, but the details were fuzzy, becoming less and less clear the more time she spent awake. Curse her and her weak memory recall—it was especially bad when it came to dreams.

Another thing that didn't help with her little obsession, was a multitude of videos that were making the rounds of her and the ‘mystery man’, as her fans had dubbed him.

The comments were filled with theories and speculation, wondering if she had a new boyfriend, and so many more itching to know his identity.

As much as she wanted that information herself, she was glad his face was hidden in shadow from every camera angle. She didn't want his privacy invaded by hordes of her craziest fans.

She sighed and headed to the bathroom to shower and make herself at least a bit presentable for the cameras that were likely to appear in the most unexpected of places.

~☆~

She would say that when it came to her performance in her line of work so far, it was beyond satisfactory. One might even go on to say she was the peak of professionalism.

She loved her fans; interacting with them during concerts, as well as meeting them in her day-to-day life always made her feel better, but she remained detached to a certain extent to maintain a healthy relationship with her fans.

Fans. She had those now. The very idea was improbable to her. She still couldn't believe all of her dreams had come true. The bright and glittering sheen of success and fame had not even dimmed a bit, and she felt like she had almost everything she could possibly want in life. Until, she saw him.

She didn't believe in love at first sight—but a tangible connection had been instantly formed when their eyes had locked. She felt sparks shoot through her very soul, the golden thread between them snapping taught, dragging her towards him like a moth to a flame. Maybe that was why she did what she did.

She had interacted with so many crowds in so many different cities; seen so many handsome guys–who were most definitely into her by where their lines of sight were—but she had never once willingly touched a fan at a show. Not like she had with him.

She was mad at herself for letting it get so far, as she always prided herself for her unwavering rules and restraint. Professionalism.

He was just… different.

Even a month later, she couldn't stop thinking about the mystery man at the concert—brown eyes, big and wide, staring into hers with awe, messy hair slicked back and tucked behind his ears, the perfectly pressed shirt that she took pride in rumpling and the most kissable lips known to man.

It was unfair, really, how gorgeous he was.

He didn't even know the lyrics to any of her songs, but instead of finding it bothersome, she had found it oddly indearing.

He plagued her waking hours, as well as the ones she was asleep for. Many a dream, not just the one from that morning, consisted of him; frequently enough that it made her question her sanity on more than one occasion.

The elevator ride down from her hotel was quiet, her manager staying silent as they descended the levels.

She was glad—she had hardly gotten a wink of sleep the night before, due to being up half the night writing a song she had been working on for a few days now, ever since she was told to write about ‘happier’ things.

She had gotten the instrumentals down, but she couldn't figure out the lyrics. It was downright impossible.

This frustration kept her up into the early hours of the morning—she kept trying different approaches, but none of them worked. This was partly to blame for her less-than-stellar mood today.

They stepped out into the foyer, only to be met with the sight of paparazzi outside the hotel entrance door. She outwardly cringed. The paparazzi were her least favourite bit about this lifestyle. She knew she would never get used to them, no matter how long her stardom lasted.

She put on a brave face, a smile too wide for her at such a young hour of the morning, especially with her mood. See? Professionalism.

The glass doors were propped open for her as she walked through, and she gave the men holding them a nod and a thank you. She stuck close to her manager as they headed for the tinted SUV that would take her to the airport.

Camera shutters went wild as she waved and flashed them a bright grin. Questions were thrown at her from the crowd, although she didn't answer any. The curb neared as the car door was opened for her.

At that moment, she felt a prickle on the side of her neck, coupled with the profound urge to turn and look to her left. She swivelled as she reached her destination, scanning the street for something. Something important.

There, walking down the main road, satchel slung across his body, coffee in one hand, was the man of her dreams. Literally. His hair was tucked behind his ears and he wore a simple button up and dress pants, but a pair of worn converse sat on his feet; not matching with the rest of his business attire whatsoever.

Her dreams had not done him justice—he looked even better than she remembered.

Her eyes widened comically at the utterly creepy coincidence. She squeezed them shut before quickly reopening them, assuming she had finally gone insane, and that he was a mere figment of her imagination.

When she looked again, though, he was still exactly where he was a moment ago.

She was completely frozen, mouth falling open in surprise, and unhearing of the loud shouts of the paparazzi right in front of her. He glanced up from the ground at the disruption in the otherwise quiet early-morning street and her heart leapt clean out of her chest.

Those sweet eyes flicked from the mass of cameras, to the car, to her. His sure steps faltered at the clashing of their gazes, wide eyes stared back into her own shocked ones.

He was still a few yards away, but she could make out his rapidly rising chest, and his hand as it tightened on the flimsy coffee cup.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out, all of her words stayed firmly lodged at the back of her throat. She stumbled forward a few steps, intending to just go over to him, but the swarm around her had other ideas.

They moved in tighter, and her manager swiftly grabbed her forearm, guiding her into the back seat of the black car before she was squished between the hordes of paparazzi and their oversized cameras.

She protested, her view of him was obscured, but she was unceremoniously shoved into the SUV nonetheless, her objection unheard in the fray.

The door was shut in her face when she made to get back out, and soon enough, her manager joined her in the back, buckling his seatbelt as they pulled away from the hotel.

She tried to get another glimpse, but all was obscured by the paparazzi. Another of many reasons for her to hate their guts, she supposed.

Her stomach sank in disappointment. Her second chance, ripped out of her grasp—there would never be another opportunity to see him again.

It was foolish to even think such a thing. Twice was a stretch, but three times? She knew that was almost mathematically impossible. Probability was a bitch.

She sighed, and sunk further into her plush seat, staring glumly out the window at the passing street.

~☆~

When she arrived home, her first thought was to write. Music and lyrics were swirling in her head and she needed to write it down before they disappeared completely.

She closed the front door quickly, kicking off her shoes haphazardly, and raced to her studio. She plopped herself down, picked up her guitar, and sang.

The words flowed immediately like never before, and she grinned to herself as she finished the song that had been plaguing her all day and night. It was exactly as she imagined, and exactly what she felt in those moments.

Next to that car, surrounded by paparazzi, and on stage, surrounded by her fans. Those moments where all she could focus on was him. All other distractions, other thoughts, other feelings faded into static—background noise—when they had locked eyes.

It was perfectly pathetic of her to write such a sappy song about a man she had never properly met, but pathetic seemed to be her brand these last few weeks— and the song was good, there was no denying that.

She hit record on her phone, intending to send the audio clip to her producer for approval. She knew the song would go across well with her team. From when she had first sung it, it felt right. Like it had been bubbling under the surface for some time now, waiting patiently to be let out.

“Your eyes whispered, "Have we met?"

'Cross the room your silhouette

Starts to make its way to me…”

~☆~

She finished a song, and cheers rippled toward her from every angle, surrounding the stage. She tipped her head back, basking in the warmth flooding her body as she beamed in exhilaration. This feeling. This was why she did what she did.

To know that her and hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions, of people were all connected by one thing. Music. Her music, that she had written about her own life, hoping that others could relate, too.

Hoping others would enjoy listening to it as much as she enjoyed writing it. She was incredibly blessed to have this job, and she couldn’t think of something better, more fulfilling, than this.

The crowd was especially loud at this point, because they knew what was next. She would play a song that wasn’t on the setlist—one of hers, or sometimes, a song from another popular artist. Her fans dubbed them as ‘surprise songs’, and it had become somewhat of a novelty.

She waited for them to quiet down a bit, before she spoke. “So… I have something a little different for you tonight.”

The room went wild. She laughed, before waiting once more to speak. “It’s an unreleased song that I wrote a few days ago.” Screams of excitement bounced from floor to ceiling.

“And, if you guys like it enough, I might just release it as a single, how does that sound?” She grinned cheekily at the deafening cheers. “So… how about I sing it for you?”

She slung her guitar strap over her shoulder, from where a stage hand had conveniently placed it, and stepped up to the mic, ready and waiting to start.

“Now, I wrote this song about a very special someone.” Again, the crowd whooped, clearly ecstatic at the mere thought of romance.

“And I hope they hear this song, and-” She strummed the first chord. “Well- understand how I feel.”

The venue went berserk, and she smiled out at them, amused. And then, she sang.

“There I was again tonight

Forcing laughter, faking smiles

Same old tired, lonely place...”

The music flowed over her, before seeping into her very bones, filling her with reverence. With peace.

“Walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy

Vanished when I saw your face

All I can say is, it was enchanting to meet you…”

Her eyes stayed closed throughout the whole song, fingers finding the strings with practised ease. In the inside of her eyelids, she saw an imprint of him.

That man, the one that consumed her dreams, the one who hijacked her songs. The one with the soft, kind eyes—that really looked at her, into her, like he saw all of her fears, aspirations, and every waking thought.

Those two encounters, as brief as they were, somehow etched themselves right into her brain. As pathetic as it sounded, she couldn’t think of anything else, and it was eating her from the inside out.

She begged to whatever deities existed to put them back into each other's path once again, no matter how improbable that was.

“Please don't be in love with someone else

Please don't have somebody waiting on you.”

The last chord faded, and she broke from her reverie, shaking herself out of her stupor. Was she really begging to meet that guy again? That was seriously next level. She didn't know his name, had never even said a proper word to him, and she was fawning like a schoolgirl.

She stifled a groan. She had definitely lost the plot.

She plastered a smile back on her face, and continued her show without a hitch, pointedly choosing to not think about the mystery man, and instead focus on her music.

It was more important. Always and forever. She couldn’t afford to pine over a man she had only seen twice. No. Her music was the most significant factor in her life, not silly things like love and romance. She had tried that, and it never ended well.

Her most recent ex was a perfect example of why relationships aren’t worth it. She threw away three years of her life to that lying, cheating scumbag.

For now, she was sticking to perfecting her craft, and nothing would distract her from that. She would just have to force herself to forget about the mystery man. Erase him from her brain.

Pretend he never existed in the first place. It's not like she would ever see him again, anyways, no matter what higher beings she tried to appease.

~☆~

By the time she returned to her hotel, ‘Enchanted’ was available for streaming as her newest single. So far, it was a hit, but there was an overwhelming amount of speculation about who the song was about. She was, honestly, wondering the same thing.

She had told herself that she would completely forget about him, but he was still there, in the very back of her mind, intruding in her thoughts. She couldn’t make him leave, no matter what she tried.

She fell onto the bed, took one of the crisp, white hotel pillows, and pressed it into her face, before letting out a shrill scream.

Yeah, she was most definitely going insane.

· · ──────────── ·𖥸· ──────────── · ·

Thank you for reading, feedback is appriciated x

Tags: @reidology13 @reidmania @navs-bhat @iheartshopping @dreamsarebig <3 - Comment to be added!

Masterlist ౨ৎ

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trulyhblue · 10 months ago

Text

Armband

Niamh Charles x Chelsea! Canadian! Reader

Warnings: fluff, cocky! Niamhy, suggestive.

Masterlist

__________________

You were quite new to the team, only joining the Blue’s side in July, but it felt like you had known Niamh for a lifetime.

You were Canadian, but you grew up in Manchester with your parents, playing in the City Academy before playing professionally for them until your move to London. Because of this, you knew Jessie and Ashleigh well. You grew up playing alongside Jessie at the National Camps, debuting for the Senior team in the same year. Winning the Olympics was a dream come true, especially with girls you have known since you were little.

Manchester City was a dream worth chasing. You were friends with Lauren Hemp, Ella Toone — before and during her move to United — and all the rest. When you found Chelsea interested in you, it was undeniably difficult to say no. While you had grown up in the North, the move down was something that ignited a certain thrill within you.

You met Niamh at your first training session. Jessie had been partnered with you for drills, and you were in the middle of introducing yourself to Guro when the brunette came barrelling in. Her flyaways were barren across her face, cheeks nipped red from the cold weather. Her hands stuffed in her pockets, she nearly tripped you to the ground at the speed at which she ran towards you. You had known her from previous matches against her, both for Canada and City, but something about being on the same team with her felt distinct. Sure, you had admired her beforehand, but it was different now.

“Jeez, Charles, give her some room, will you?” Guro scoffed, playfully pushing the girl back a bit. You watched as she nipped the inside of her cheek, looking at you so intently that you struggled to keep eye contact.

Niamh held out her hand, grabbing yours and shaking it. You could hear Jessie giggling from behind you. “My name’s Niamh.” She announced, continuing to shake your hand. “I’m Niamh.”

Her nervous state was apparent, and Guro was in a fit of laughter at the interaction she was watching.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” You replied, hoping your dismissal of her apprehension would cool the flames in both your cheeks. “I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you.” She gulped, obviously baffled at what to say.

You couldn't help but smile, nodding. “Erm, yes, you too.”

“Fuck, let go of her hand, Charles, you're ‘gonna tear it off.” A voice called from behind. You turned to find the Australian Captain trampling over, slinging a welcoming arm over your shoulder. Her laid-back persona made it easier for introductions. Unlike Niamh, who was a worrying mess in front of you.

“Right, sorry.” The English woman muttered, tearing her hand away and shoving right back in her pocket. Her cheeks seared with an even deeper embarrassment, and you shook off the motion with a tight-lipped smile.

“You’re alright, really.” You smiled, hoping the reassurance consolidated the girl.

It must've, since Niamh gave you a wide smile back, shuffling by your side ever since.

All of the Chelsea girls were lovely. You had no problem fitting into the Grove there. After a few weeks of making scare appearances as a super sub, you became a regular starter for the Blues. Your presence on the field was noticeable, and fans reeled at how you brought more opportunities down the field and into the back of the net.

“Would you be able to give this to Niamh for me, please?” One fan said after a game, handing two matching friendship bracelets with your names on one of them each. Erin was beside you, signing off the posters, when she caught a glimpse of them. Without a second thought, she waved over Niamh, who wasted no time in sprinting towards you.

“Hello.” She spoke, trying hard to discreetly slip her arm around your waist. You leaned into her side, showing her the two bracelets.

“Look how cute.” You smiled, ignoring the way some fans had started recording. You slipped a hand into Niamh’s jacket pocket, holding out the present with your other hand.

Niamh picked up the one with your name on it, slipping it on her wrist and displaying it to the little girl who had made it. “Very cute. I wish we could wear them during games.”

Subconsciously, you put yours (Niamh’s) one on too. The two of you were pretty much hugging at this point. The wind had sent chills through you, your kit doing little to warm you up.

The two of you took a photo with the fan before calling it a day and trudging off back to the changing rooms. You shivered as the wind picked up, holding your arms over your chest tightly as you tried to fight the cold.

Without much thought, Niamh shrugged off her jacket, hauling it around your figure and zipping it up for you.

When you got back to your apartment, engulfing the comfort of your bed after a hard-fought game, you opened up your phone to find hundreds of people tagging your account. You managed to click on the video, smiling to yourself at the sight of you and Niamh huddled together, talking to the little girl with bracelets adorned on your wrists. You clicked on another image, this time a photo, of you blanketed in Niamh’s jumper, your arm wrapped around her waist with one of her’s around your shoulder. The photo was everywhere on social media, including the Chelsea Account.

After a couple more months, you ended up extending your contract until the end of 2027 by Christmas. You loved it there. Your friendship with the team had grown all the more closer. You felt a sense of home and solidarity that you had never felt before.

Your relationship with the team was selfless. Jessie and you had never been closer. Sam and Millie had taken you under their wing, calling you the baby of the group, since you were the shortest between you, them, Guro, Niamh, Erin, and Jessie. Fans had taken a ripe liking to you all over social media. But not just you by yourself, but with a certain brunette in your wake.

You and Niamh had grown very close over the time you spent in London. She wasn't as shy as she made herself out to be when you first met. She was cunning, confident, funny, and easy to be around in any environment. All of your teammates teased the living daylights out of the two of you, especially Niamh, who didn't waste a second in making sure you were always okay.

She would check on you when you went quiet. She always ran to you for partner work during drills, after goals, and when the full-time whistle would blow. The two of you had a habit of huddling together in any setting, holding each other’s hands or waist, cuddling their side or touching you in some way.

Everything you did with each other was full of love and adoration. It was only you two that didn't see your friendship blossom into a relationship. You weren't daft, you knew the speculations surrounding what the two of you were. There was no denying the physical acclimation you had around each other. Hell, Sam sent at least two memes a day about how whenever you were seen together, you were always touching each other.

Over Christmas, Niamh asked you out. She was a nervous wreck, which reminded you all too well of when you first met her. It was after a game, in the changing rooms. She had been given a bouquet of flowers by a group of fans, who told her to ask you out with them. She was reluctant, not only because she didn't want you to feel uncomfortable or pressured by the media to say yes, but the mere fact of ruining the relationship you already had with each other made her hesitant enough.

Of course, you said yes. It was a no-brainer, and after a few more dates you were officially together. It wasn't any more public than before. Only your close friends knew, but the public was already quite content with the PDA you already showed each other before you were dating. The only thing they needed was confirmation, but Niamh and you were happy to keep in vague.

After you said yes, the two of you became inseparable, both on and off the pitch. Niamh ended up extending her contract as well, and the chemistry you built made for an unstoppable case on the field. By the time the season came back after the break, you had moved in together. The happiness both of you felt was indescribable.

Today, Chelsea was up against Manchester United, your old rival team. Ella Toone was one of your childhood friends and was who you were marking. Not only was ManU a competitive, difficult team, but it was a team you were familiar with. They were always pushing in the midfield and up against the forwards. Their chances during set pieces were worrying to any defensive back line. With the combination of Mary Earps and a sophisticated midfield variation, you knew that you were in for a ride.

When Sam did her ACL, people started to underestimate Chelsea’s shot at winning the league. Everyone was starting to wonder whether the Blues were even contestable for the semis. After a poor attempt last week against West Ham for the FA Cup, you were adamant about proving yourself to the people who were doubting your ability to win. You were a midfielder, and while you had masterclasses in the centre field, your stats didn't excel in goals. You had many assists, but never many goals.

You were tying your laces when you felt your girlfriend's arms curl around your waist. You were leaning against your cubby, back facing Niamh. You were slightly bent as your finished the knot in your shoe, feeling the women behind you grasp your hips with a slight squeeze.

“You ready to smash it today, baby?” She muttered, her lips shadowing your ear, sending shivers down your body. You held composure well enough, straightening up and letting her wrap her arms over your abdomen.

“Mh, bit nervous, but yeah.” You replied, relishing Niamh’s pattern of breath. “How ‘bout you?”

Niamh pulled your body to face in front of her, your back now flushed against the wall. You managed to make eye contact with her dilated pupils, feeling one of her hands make their to the back of your neck.

Before she spoke, your eyes filtered down to the fabric that wrapped around her arm, the word ‘Captain’ sprawled across the armband. Niamh watched the way your eyes widened, and how you bit your bottom lip at the sight. Niamh smirked in response, pressing her front into yours so that most of your body was hidden to the rest of the room.

“What's the matter, baby?” She gloated, rubbing a hand up your side. Your cheeks flushed when she refused to break eye contact, holding tranquillity at the sight of your girlfriend as captain. It was a sight you weren't used to, but it was something you couldn't get enough of.

“Nothing. I'm— we should go line up in the tunnel.” Your breath hitched. Niamh was staring down at you while groping your waist.

Neither of you said anything until you were out on the field. You could hear the crowd cheering in anticipation. You shook your opponents’ hands aimlessly, your mind sauntering on the previous sight of your girlfriend.

“Earth to Y/N, hello?” Jessie’s voice snapped you out of your trance. She must've watched you wander to your position in a haze, since she was smirking knowingly at your flushed cheeks. Erin came up behind the two of you, laughing when she caught a glimpse of your state.

“She looks like she's already played the ninety minutes.” The Scottish woman quipped, bringing her hands up to play with your cheeks. You pushed her off playfully, gushing at the ground. “Shut up, you two.”

“God, if this is your reaction to Niamh in an armband, I wonder what Niamh would do if she saw you.”

“Go away, you pricks.” You snapped, flanking them away with your hands, trying to cool your cheeks before the game.

After the team photo, you ran back to your position, jumping up and down as the whistle blew.

The game was inevitably tough, but something had ignited inside of you at the sight of your girlfriend. As embarrassing as it was to admit, you were running up and down the pitch with the one endeavour to make your girlfriend watch you.

Chelsea was controlling the game for the most part, and it didn't take long for Guro to find you inside the box.

The crowd erupted in cheers, your teammates sprinting over to where you stood starstruck. This was one of the scarce amount of goals you had scored that season.

As you were making your way back to the middle, you felt a familiar figure creep up behind you with her hands soothing the tension in your shoulders.

“Making me so proud today, aren't you, baby?” Niamh whispered, running back to her spot in defence before you could reply.

The first half ended as quickly as it started. United had sent a flyer into the back of the net just before the whistle blew. You avoided Niamh like the plague in the changing rooms, knowing you would cave to her touch as soon as she laid hands on you. In any other circumstance, it was you who would tease, but it always ended with Niamh taking over. The two of you were strict in keeping your private life and career separate, but no one seemed to mind your change of game when Niamh was Captain.

You were having an absolute masterclass of a game by the sixtieth minute, scoring your second goal on seven minutes in. Chelsea was now up two-one, and Man U were starting to bring on subs after a close set piece that almost led to a goal.

You made a break down the wing after Lauren sent a cross-over to the field. You sprinted down the line, trying to find a way into the middle. United were tight in keeping you out, and by the time you had made it down the line, attempting to pass it to one of your teammates, you felt a pair of boots collide with your own, sending you face-first fo the floor.

The ball was long forgotten by the ref, who blew the whistle immediately, medics were sent over. While your muscles started to strain at the energy of the game, you didn't feel instantaneous pain from the fall.

You were rolling onto your back, wincing as you got up, when you first heard your girlfriend’s voice boom over the hustle of the crowd.

“Are you alright there, Zelem?!” She scoffed. You watched a smug Katie Zelem trampling off from where you sat. She didn't look like she meant the tackle, but the heat of the game left her feeling less apologetic than usual.

“Oh, let it go, Charles.” Zelem clapped back, walking towards Ella and Millie, who were tense at the sight of Niamh’s uncommon anger. “She's fine.”

“I don't think you understand.” Niamh marched towards her, grabbing the girl’s jersey, and forcing Katie to face her. “You get the fuck off her and the rest of my players. Don't be salty cause we’re winning.”

Katie rolled her eyes at that. “Don't be salty cause your girlfriend can't handle a tackle.”

Erin and Jessie were surrounding Niamh moments later, dragging her away from the United mob and towards you.

The medics have already cleared you to keep playing, and you were already up and ready to go by the time your girlfriends grabbed your hand.

“Are you sure you're okay?” She asked, taking in your flustered appearance. What she didn't know was that you were overwhelmed at the way Niamh looked just then, not by the absolute mouthful of grass you just inhaled.

You could only muster a nod, squeezing your girlfriend’s hand once before slipping away from her touch. You were now hungry for not only Niamh but that third goal. You wanted to prove yourself to everyone that you could do it.

And so you did.

It was a Chelsea corner, and you made the run from outside the box near the open post, where no one had thought to mark. You jumped as high as you could, feeling the ball hit your head in the right direction. You fell to the ground before you knew where the ball was going, letting the movement and relief of the crowd pull you to your feet. You ran to the corner of the field, taking in the shouts and cheers of the crowd and letting your teammates engulf you from behind. The weight of everyone sent you down as more and more girls piled on top of you.

This was your first hat trick ever at Chelsea, and you were relishing the feeling of the euphoria for the rest of the game.

When the final whistle blew, you nearly collapsed from exhaustion. Everything you wanted to go right in the game went right. You were reeling at the win, looking across the field for a particular someone.

“Guess I know what to do to make you score some goals.” Niamh chuckled, grabbing your waist and lifting you into a spinning hug. You gripped onto her and giggled, letting her twirl you around.

“Thanks, Niamhy.” You smiled, gazing up at your girlfriend’s proud eyes. “You looked so good today, baby.”

“You think so?” She asked, though both of you knew she was just egging you on.

“Mhm. Looked so good.”

“You always look good, my stargirl.” The taller girl grinned, looking down at you slyly. Her lips met your ear, her voice sending chills down your spine. “But I guess I’ll need to reward you for doing so well. Show you how good you were for me.”

You didn't get to respond, feeling Jessie pull you away with the Player of the Match trophy shoved into your chest.

You knew you’d see her soon… you were looking forward to it.

niamhcharles

niamhcharles — she scores more when I am Captain.

Tagged: Yourusername

Comments:

samanthakerr — yeah the girls 🙌🏼

*liked by yourusername, niamhcharles

User8 — they will never beat the dating allegations

^ user10 — at this point they are embracing it

guroreiten — she always score goals, Charles 🙄

^ niamhcharles — READ THE CAPTION

^ guroreiten — I DID

^ niamhcharles — i said she scores “more” goals

^ guroreiten — oh, okay.

^ user1 — LMAO

yourusername — always complimenting me 😍

^ erincuthburt — too much apparently… as if she didn't do it enough in the Change Rooms

^ niamhcharles — i did it more when we got home

^ erincuthburt — youre blocked.

User22 — they are so pookie together

^ user76 — omg yes

jflem_ — that armband ignited something within her

^ yourusername — EXCUSE ME?????

^ user2 — LMAO JESSIE

^ user3 — don't expose her like that 💀

^ yourusername — Ikr 😖

erincuthburt — Niamh needs to be in that armband more often 😂

^ yourusername — maybe I just had a good game?!?!

^ erincuthburt — we all have our superstitions

^ user6 — LMAO ERIN IM CRYING

User78 — If you look closely I’m jumping off the bridge

^ user90 — mood.

User67 — okay but when Niamh protected Y/N at the Man U game!? 😋😋😋 wishing I was Y/N right now.

laurenhemp — where were those hat tricks at City, Y/N???

^ yourusername — you stole them all

yourusername — can a girl just score a hat-trick because shes good? 😖😖😖

^ niamhcharles — you did it all by yourself 🫶🏼

^ yoursusername — thx niamhy 🥰

^ guroreiten — suck up

^ samanthakerr — suck up

^ milliebright — suck up

^ niamhcharles — a proud suck up x

^ jflem_ — 🤢

^ niamhcharles — ok bye.

user7 — THIS IS SO CUTE BYE

_________________________

573 notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Text

How To Adapt To Fire (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Fireman!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: Fire(s), intended harm, mentions of death, murder, crime, corruption, arsonist mystery plot, pining, protective!Johnny, flirting, intense banter, etc.

A/N: This is based off of US Firemen just because that's what I'm most familiar with!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

There was an arsonist in the city, and you were going to catch them.

Getting out of your car, you slap the door closed behind you and rush out, heels clicking over the concrete as the roaring flames continue violently—orange and red going high into the air, all centered around an abandoned warehouse building. Through the darkness of night, everything was lit up like hell.

Your satchel hits against your thigh one fast step at a time, arms pumping as your eyes find the flashing lights beyond the glare, squinting.

“MacTavish!” You shout, jogging to the line of yellow tape and slipping under it through a small crowd of locals who call to you sharply. Voices going in one ear and out the other, you only search for that familiar helmeted head and the Scottish accent that accompanies it.

“What is she doing?”

“How come she gets to go closer!?”

“Stop that woman!”

Your white blouse does little to push back the gusts of molten heat on the roaring airwaves, and neither do your dress pants. You push on with stubborn righteousness, even as the mulling firefighters groan under their breaths when they catch sight of you, all pausing in their various duties and panic of grabbing the hoses and getting the water going.

The iconic red trucks sit stationary, but the man beside one of the three vehicles has his head nearly snapped off when he darts it over to you in a fast instant.

“MacTavish!” You call out again, locking onto wide blue eyes that blink rapidly at your appearance.

An under-the-breath curse is leveled out, heard in between shouts and the spray of water, droplets hitting your hard face.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus. Not again.” Heavy boots jog over, tan and yellow uniform loose beside the places where the straps of his gear attach various items and tools to his body. “What in the hell are you doin’ here, Pencils?”

“My job,” you call stiffly, your finger going out to tap at the small plastic card attached to your blouse.

‘PRESS PASS’

“So be a good informant and tell me how much damage this is going to cause,” your hand is already inside of your satchel, flicking on a hand-held recorder, as your eyes scan about. “The fire was bigger here,” you begin without wasting any time, and the firefighter in front of you sighs in exasperation, clenching his jaw. “Was it because this place was abandoned unlike the last four scenes, or because there was a different accelerant used.”

“I’ve told you, Hen,” MacTavish’s hand moves out in appeasement gestures, glancing at the fire and the rest of the teams that rush to get the rest of the hoses going. “Ya can’t be here when the fucking fire is still ongoing. Do you want to get burnt to a damn crisp?”

“I need answers,” you level, gaze darting back to stare into cerulean blues.

John MacTavish, who everyone just calls Johnny or Soap, for some reason, had been a familiar face to you for upwards of two months. In that time, there had been an alarming amount of suspected arson cases—twelve, counting this one. There was an unprecedented spark-up, most taking place in older neighborhoods and abandoned buildings barring the previous four, of which two people had been seriously injured, and three had died.

But now, it was back to out-of-the-way properties, and you wanted to know why. You needed to.

Such an escalation just to suddenly drop back down to no casualties? It didn’t make sense. If it wasn’t for your career as a journalist, then it was for your morbid curiosity of which Johnny was intently familiar with.

The Scot clenches his jaw, dark eyebrows under his helmet stuck into a line. Around him, the others were getting the blaze under control the best they could—there was no need to go inside to search for anyone and all that had to be done was keep the fire from spreading. So, he had no trouble trying to get you to see sense yet again.

“Do you ever give it a rest,” he asks gruffly, accent thick. “Christ, I’ll be gray before you learn to stop sticking your hands where they don’t belong.”

“You’re not my mother, MacTavish,” you speak, lowering the recorder. “Do you have anything for me?”

Johnny moves up a hand and runs it over his face, groaning. A smirk flickers to your lips.

“You’re worse than a fly,” he breathes, unimpressed eyes opening to stick to you. “I can’t say much right now, most of it is left for forensics. Just from the blaze alone,” he glances over, taking it in. “I’d make a guess that an accelerant was used. Especially with how fast it popped up and the intensity of it. I’d have to get the dogs down here for a sniff, but it’s likely.”

“Do you think it’s—”

“Connected?” Johnny interrupts, lips twitching at the annotated gimmer in your eye. “Aye. This was man-made. There was nothing here that could start a blaze like this.”

You click the recorder’s button and move back with a sigh.

“Lovely.”

The Scot raises a slow brow, looking you up and down, confused. “That’s it?”

“It’s all you can give me right now,” you mutter, sliding a look at him as your eyes squint at the rabid flames. Pieces of screeching metal fall into a heap, a loud boom of spreading smoke and lifeless coughing of material in the air.

“Fucking hell,” you murmur to yourself. “This had to be one of the biggest ones so far.”

It was getting held back from the surrounding buildings—slowly but surely in the morning, the entire place would be a smoldering pile of ash and metal, only more questions left behind.

Johnny sets his hands on the collar of his gear, sighing. “Won’t be the deadliest, though, will it? I’m just glad there won’t be bodies to drag out.”

You send a side-eye his way, feet shuffling. “That, I can agree with. But the pattern doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Well, sorry, Hen, but you’ll catch me a bit more concerned about the potential next targets than the pattern.” He grunts, rolling his shoulders. “We need to catch this prick. Soon. Resources are stretched thin.”

“It’s like the guy completely switched his M.O.,” you ignore him, eyes narrowing. “Abandoned buildings, then to taking people's lives, then right back to where he started? That doesn’t happen overnight.”

Johnny grunts. “‘Cept here.”

You sigh, tapping your fingers against your bag. The man at your side looks over, shrugging as he takes in the firmness of your expression—the same that he usually wears to any scene he gets called to. Determination.

“I’ll get the report to you soon as I get it,” Johnny breathes, tilting his head. “Figured with all of your connections, you’ll have a better chance at piecing it all together.”

“Thank you,” you nod. The man hums.

“Now, get the hell out of here, yeah? Makin’ me nervous. Tape’s there for a reason Dearie.”

Scoffing, you toss up a hand and shake your head. “I live to make people nervous, MacTavish. You don’t help bust criminals and not make people nervous.”

You begin backing back up, studying the land one more time. Johnny’s lips are thin, and he shifts his legs to stare after you.

“Just be careful,” he calls, fingers tightening at his collar, strong jaw moving as he fixes it. His heart stutters in its course. “Don’t stick your neck where it doesn’t belong, Hen.”

You wave a hand, and then you’re off again, disappearing into the crowd with flames rising high behind you.

The fireman watches tightly, licking his lips before shouting, “I’m serious!”

—

Your list of enemies was seemingly endless.

Drug busts, criminal enterprises, hitmen—there was no shortage of stories you’d broken and your name being printed into the papers; you weren’t at all unknown to the city or the various police or fire stations. Many described you as a public nuisance, but…you were viewed with a modicum of respect as well—even if it was kept under breath.

Yet, where there was respect, there was also the less savory emotion of contempt from the related individuals of those whom you’d landed into the eyes of the law and behind bars.

Perhaps you’d taken this arsonist for a disorganized fool…but you were about to get a very violent reality shift.

“This is the report?” You ask, Johnny sipping from his coffee cup as you both sit in the park three days later, the bench stiff as your fingers play over the manila folder you’d been passed.

“The public one.” Soap huffs when you slide him a look, his finger pointing at you as he holds his drink. “What? Pencils, I don’t care who you think you are, I’m not about to risk my career for something I can just tell you first-hand.”

You sigh, muttering before your hand pushes open the papers. “Go on, then.”

Johnny smugly smirks, chuckling as his free hand goes up to fix the backward ballcap on his head. Under the tight hold of his athletic shirt, gray sweatpants sharply contract your put-together and professional appearance—like night and day. He still smells of smoke and metal.

“You’re bein’ more snappy than usual. Publisher still on your arse, Bonnie?”

“Telling me I need to drop this goose chase,” you grumble, scoffing, eyes skimming down the printed words ahead of you. “As if.”

“Ah, he’ll come round,” Johnny’s lips flicker, flesh crinkling under that stubble of his. An overgrown mohawk leaks from the sides of his hat. “C’mon, tell me what ya need. I’ve got it all up here,” he goes to tap his head, taking another gulp of his coffee.

The morning air is cold all around you, and people pass pushing strollers or jogging—Saturday just beginning to spread over minds and wake those who’ve slept in. Johnny and you weren’t quite like that.

“Our theory about the accelerant?”

“My theory,” Soap grumbles but nods. “Gasoline. Dogs found traces all over—there was a damn lot.”

You tilt your head, glancing at him. “Fits the profile from the other cases except the ones involving casualties.” Your lips pull into a frown, Johnny’s face going more serious. “Weren’t those all started with matches to the curtains in the living rooms?”

“Aye,” Johnny tips his chin to you. “Couldn’t figure that out until—”

“Until you found the matchbox out in the lawn at one of the crime scenes, plus the busted locks on the front doors. All exactly the same.”

The fireman grunts, lips flickering as his face goes a bit red. “Know my job better than I do.”

You pause, a small heat coming to your cheeks, eyes pausing in their search for new information. “I’m not the one who willingly goes into burning buildings, give yourself more credit.”

Johnny leans closer, chuckling. “Was that a compliment, Pencils?”

“No,” you slide out.

He hums a sound of amusement, moving back as his form slouches into the bench. A bird darts past overhead, chirping. “Goin’ soft on me. ‘Bout time—I've been waiting.”

You roll your eyes heavily, closing the manila folder and shifting it into your satchel.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” You face Soap head-on, taking in the deep blue of his eyes and the tease hidden in them. “The station? Home?” Your brow raises. “Animal shelter—I heard they take in strays.”

“Ah,” Johnny flinches, hand raising to his chest as he feigns hurt. “This how you thank your favorite public servant?”

“You’ll live,” you grumble, standing and flattening out your long black coat. “Come on. Seeing as you’re not entirely lost to me, I’m getting breakfast today.”

Johnny’s beaming grin makes your lips pull in a low smile.

“And just like that,” he chuckles, standing up so that his boots hit the ground and his hand falls into his pocket. The empty cup in his hand is tossed into the trash. “I’m a picture-perfect specimen. Not that I wasn’t already, eh?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you breathe, voice exasperated even as your smile breeds along the lines of your face.

The both of you take off side by side, legs mirroring the others’ pace one slow movement at a time. Throughout your meetings for information, Johnny and yourself have grown close to one another—Violet’s Dinner one of the many places that was the unfortunate hub for your intel swapping. However, it was only unfortunate for the patrons, not you.

Soap gave what he knows about the fires and the ways they were started, and you gave over potential next targets based on whatever you can piece together from your police informants as well as others.

You hum as you both walk the trail, slowly weaving away from the bench and down to the gated entrance of the park, slipping past the black iron as John holds it open for you.

“Besides the ol’ fire-freak, then,” Johnny begins, smiling over at you as he itches at his neck, large arm reaching up and flexing. “Any other big breaks?”

Head turning his way, you speak easily. “In which article—the multi-generational money laundering bust at Warren’s Electrical or the murders near Fifth Ave? Or even the drug smuggling near the docks?”

Blue eyes blink. “...Eh…any of ‘em?”

You snort, turning back to the sidewalk and shrugging.

“You asked.” You slyly begin, before getting into the mental paper that you still had to type and send into editing. “Roy Laurence committed the murders near Fifth Avenue—my informant with the SWAT team says he was arrested and booked within an hour of the green light. DNA and fingerprints found at the scene of the last victim.” You raise a hand. “Now, I just have to try and get a spot in the courtroom when a trial date is released.”

“Well,” Johnny breathes, sending you a veiled look after a moment. “Don’t mean to brag, Pencils, but I got to help an old lady cross the street yesterday.”

You laugh, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as Soap chuckles. The sidewalk continues, men and women passing at their slow paces as cars zip past; the fireman taking the chivalrous stance of the person beside the street unconsciously.

“And I’m sure she was very pleased, MacTavish,” you push out, shifting closer to him as an individual passes by, bumping your arm into his.

“Aye, she was,” the man huffs proudly, puffing his chest. “Called me a handsome bloke and kissed my cheek. Blushed a bit.”

“Playboy,” you tease, eyes narrowed over at him. “Cheating on the mutts back at the station?”

Johnny gasps, putting on a serious face. “Don’t you call Mr. Spots a mutt, Dearie—that’s too far.”

“Christ,” you breathe, and an arm settles over your shoulders, shaking you a bit and squeezing your flesh before chuckles follow.

Trying not to sink into the feeling of heat and the promise of fire, you live in this moment of nearly something. There was the close sensation of borderline affection—just brushing the sense of care and…pining.

You knew the Scot was interested in you, or, at the very least, knew he had some modicum of attraction to you. Hell, the way he’d flirted with you when you’d propositioned him to be your link to the fire department was nearly laughable even today. All smirks and glinting eyes.

John was funny, no one was denying it.

There was that firm push and pull between the two of you, a string attached to your wrists that wouldn’t snap—that had seemingly only grown stronger over the months of mystery. But the arsonist took precedence.

Play can only come after work, and you were the picture of professionalism. Or maybe just stubbornness.

“The regular?” Johnny asks, letting you go as he pushes open the front door of Violet’s with his shoulder, keeping it there as you move inside and nod.

“Sure. Same seats?”

The fireman smirks. “Always.”

You smile, walking off to the corner booth as John goes up to the front, waving down the familiar face of the waitress to let her know that the both of you are here. The two exchange pleasantries as you sigh and lean back into the red-cushioned seats, letting your satchel drop near your feet. Sending a text to your editor, you tell him that you’ll have an article written up about one of your ongoing fixations by Monday.

Johnny’s broad shadow soon graces you once more, carrying a plate of fresh bread with butter on it.

“Lady’s a fuckin’ lifesaver,” he breathes. “Gave us free bread today.”

Your eyes dart over to Tammy, the waitress, who winks at you before disappearing to help another customer. Hiding the twitch of your lips, you raise a brow at John.

“Don’t you usually get pancakes, too? Your stomach will explode,” you huff.

“Ah,” his face scrunches in dismissal. “There’s always room for fresh bread.”

His large fingers are already around the body of a knife, slathering gooey butter on a steaming piece of the carb, chomping down and swallowing before he speaks—reaching for another.

“So, spill it on me.”

Your fingers reach out, grasping some bread and bringing it to your lips. You chew, swallow, and ease out, “I think there are two arsonists.”

Johnny pauses, wide eyes stuck on you as he stops his hand from bringing up the next piece of food. He blinks, his face tightens as he wonders over the information that you have, and then the groans out a long, “Fucking hell… one who’s doing it for kicks, the other who’s settling scores.”

“Precisely,” you shrug. “It explains the complete break in character, and we have enough fires to show that not only is the way the flames started different, but for different reasons as well. One wants to kill, the other can’t control it. Impulse.”

“Makes sense,” Johnny grumbles, amused mood for the moment dropping to one of flashing anger. He taps his knuckles slowly on the table, thinking. “You tell the police this theory?”

“Nah,” you shake your head as your legs shift along the seat. “You know how the chief gets about me—I need to do some of my own leg-work. Get more evidence.”

The Fireman is already shaking his head with a chuckle that has no ounce of tease or jest in it. “Nah ah, no fuckin’ way am I letting you get involved with two arsonists—certainly not one that kills people, Hen.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking permission,” you smirk as your breakfast plates are brought over. Johnny’s is full of eggs, bacon, and pancakes, and you, your regular. You thank Tammy with a nod and take a sip of your small drink. “There has to be a connection between the victims. I’ve written about them before, my notes have the answers, I’m sure. I need to focus on one at a time—”

“Bonnie—”

“A possible Revenge-Motivated Arsonist is a far bigger threat than one that only has an impulse to light fires and not harm others. I’ll leave the ladder to you—”

A hand grabs at your own, grasping it firmly. Head snapping up to the square jaw ahead of you, which is tight, the stubble moving the scar along his chin one frown line at a time, you pause your quick rant. Face steadily heating as callouses run along your flesh like un-cut granite, your heart stutters.

“You’ll do nothing without me.” Johnny’s expression leaves no room for discussion.

Mouth slightly parted, your eyelids blink before a squeeze is leveled out on your hand, and the Fireman shifts back. Your eyes follow, stuck on how his shirt hugs his large biceps and the gentleness of how he held you—how he always held you.

Focus.

“You’re not getting dragged into this,” you chuckle, tilting your head seriously. “It could cost you your job.”

Johnny shrugs. “Only if I’m caught. If you're half as stubborn, as I already know you to be, Pencils,” he sighs, low smile coming to his lips. “Then I know you’ll be needing my level head.” Cobalt eyes twinkle.

You stare at him, blinking. Ignoring that skip in your pulse. As hard as you would like to try, you can’t say no to that face of his—that open expectation and firm choice.

“As level as a steep decline,” your grumble meets Soap’s ears, and the man’s face twists with an ingrained amusement that breeds the closer you are to him. It was easy to bounce jokes with you—like a pair of birds, squawking and puffing feathers, only stopping at strange intervals to preen one another before the loud chatter started anew.

“And stop it with the dumb nickname already,” you glare. “It happened once.”

John drags his plate closer, picking up a piece of bacon and taking a bite out of it. “It isn’t every day you see a bonnie Hen with seven pencils in her breast pocket, is it? Hell of a first meeting with that serious face of yours and the sight of fabric practically ripping open.”

“I was in a rush,” your face burns, jaw rotating. “At least I was prepared, MacTavish.”

“Well, who’s sayin’ I wasn’t prepared?”

“Me!” Your fingers grab at your fork, pointing it at him. “You were practically covered head-to-toe in ashes!”

Red cheeks on his part, but always that adorning sheen to his expression.

“I was just in from a damn fire!”

Breakfast went as it usually did—good food and better company—but there was a deeper level to it now; a sharp edge of purpose. By the time the both of you were done, you’d already made up your mind to make it back to your apartment and gather the intel that you had. Find a starting point.

But, as mysteries like these always go, the good times came to a rapid cliff-drop. Johnny was muttering about his work schedule back on the sidewalk when he got the call.

Phone to ear, you’d seen his face tighten—feet going completely still as you have to halt and look back at him, confused. A breeze goes by on the air, and your nose twitches to a sharp tang that leaves your fingers twitching.

“What do you mean, ‘fire on third street?’” Your body locks up, and Johnny’s face becomes devoid of pigment, watching yours closely. It was a strange emotion on his face; a hard and hesitant thing all at once. He was staring, brows pulled in as your lungs seemingly went to concrete inside of your ribs.

Third street? Fire?

Soap’s voice goes even lower. Spine even more straight. “...Stillview apartments?”

You’re already running before you can understand the severity of the revelation—dashing as Johnny yells after you to stop.

That was your apartment building.

“Dearie!” The fireman shouts, his boots pounding after, but you had a head start, shoving through the crowds, dodging strollers and trash cans—bags and thrown curses. “Fucking hell, stop!”

Your form darts fast, heart hammering. Already your mind is running through every possibility and explanation. How could this be happening? Why? Has one of the arsonists found you out? But even then, it could only be the one intent on murder—countless others lived in your building; this was more than intent…it was a massacre.

Fires don’t just spark at a time like this to not be called connected.

Even over the air, you could hear sirens above Johnny’s loud pleas to slow down, moving as well as he could through the rush of people.

He’s still on the phone, barking questions and the will of his legs to take him in the direction of the department building. But you. The back of your head in his black-sided vision.

The man knows that if he doesn’t catch you, you’ll run straight into that blaze not only for the principal but your evidence. Your cork boards and their red strings—your pictures and printed articles. Johnny knew you had them, he wasn’t an idiot.

You were too smart for your own good.

He was nearly there—just a few more steps and he could grab the back of your jacket like some stray cat, pull you back until you were in his arms. A fireman, yes, but he’d never get used to the inferno that was you; you consumed him utterly. It was an instant feeling for him, and even with the initial flirting, the immediate latching of his attention held fast. A bird to a wire. Hopeless, he was. Johnny was afraid at how much you trapped him in your ways—your looks and your…you-ness.

And you were only making him more afraid at this very instant.

Soap was the only person ever supposed to be walking into fire.

“Hen!” The fireman barks, sharp and visceral. But you only take the next corner faster, satchel slapping against your thigh.

“No,” you pant, legs dashing. “No, no, no. I left everything I need for this case in my filing cabinet!”

This is what you get for trying to be organized for once.

You smell the smoke before you see it, and feel the heavy hand on your coat collar not a moment after you lock on it.

“MacTavish!” Your angered voice moves out, but it’s all strangled away in a fast moment of the screaming of sirens and the visible fire from your tall apartment building strikes you. Watching blankly, your face falls as strong arms reel you back into a chest.

“Fuck,” Johnny growls, eyes wide as he looks on, phone clenched tightly in one hand. His jaw writhes with tension, vision darting from one fire truck to another and the men available to help. People were doing a myriad of things—screaming, running, watching—but through it all, there was the presence of fear coupled with a static anticipation.

Panting heavily, you watch your life’s work go up in flames, and feel the tight arms of your informant keep you close.

You learn that if you don’t adapt to this fire sooner or later, it’s going to consume you. And still, you can’t understand if you’re talking about Johnny, who murmurs quick words of comfort into your ear, or the case that just locked you in with chains of commitment and rage.

The real work had just begun as ashes fell like snow to the street; the spray of the firetruck’s water flew with sure aim. Your face hardens, and you feel that worried grip tighten, bringing you into a ramshackle hug.

You have an arsonist to catch, and not a single person would stop you now.

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