#i promised myself i wouldn’t say anything about this fic until i was done (just in case i never actually finish it)

[theoldworldsrunnerup]

Paying attention in maths class ❌

Writing kind of homoerotic vampire blood sucking scene ✔️

[alientee]

To Live Mauga x reader

I wrote this after reading a agnst Mauga fic it made me sad so I changed my past idea from slice of life to a fluffy moments with taking care of Mauga (gender neutral reader)

You didn’t ask Mauga a lot about his past, but you know it made him into the man he is today. As long as you’ve known him, he’s always had a carefree outlook on life. You’ve seen him angry, happy, horny, and even embarrassed.

But you had never seen him sad; nothing could wipe the usual smirk off his handsome face. To have a face of complete shock or dread was not something you were used to seeing. Mauga, the unshakable mountain of a man, was trembling, and you didn’t know what to do.

He came home distressed, covered in bandages. He took one look at you and instantly went to the bedroom, cooping himself up without saying a word. You made your way to the room to see the man you loved on the bed, slightly curled up, as if it would hide him from the world.

You went over to him and put your arms around him. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t even move. But somehow, you knew he didn’t want words; he just needed you. You continued to hold him, rocking him back and forth. And after an hour of that, he finally spoke.

“I almost died today." Your blood ran cold. Those are genuinely the last words you ever wanted to hear from him. You knew working for Talon would come with trouble, but being prepared for it was a whole different issue. You didn’t speak, deciding to wait and see if he’d continue.

“We had a mission to capture this dude. He owed Doom first a lot of cash. I should’ve known it would be bullshit when he sent the whole team. The guy we were chasing had us trapped like rats, trying to pick us off one by one. He had a lot of goons, too, until we finally caught up with him. The place was already torn down and still coming down on top of us. That asshole knew he couldn’t make it out, so he set himself off.”

You look at him, confused. “Set himself off?” Mauga nodded.

“He had bombs on his body, saying he wouldn’t give doom shit. He said he reached his goal, and he'd die knowing he did it with no regrets. I knew he was crazy, but I didn’t think he’d off himself before we could even capture him.”

Mauga leaned his head onto yours; he stayed quiet for a moment before placing his face on your shoulder.

“The whole building was coming down, and because I was the tank, I took the blunt hit off it. I was trapped behind the ceiling debris that fell. The whole building was falling apart; shit was on fire, and I was trapped. I thought I wasn’t gonna get out. When more of the ceiling fell on top of me, it broke open the floor. I fell through, but I had a chance. I had to crawl most of the way and use my guns to break whatever was blocking me off. I reached dead end after dead end, and I didn’t think I could get out. Shit was falling down on me, and I could barely breathe, and by the time I made it somewhere else, I thought it was another dead end until I dug through the debris and made it outside.”

You hugged him tighter, kissing his face all over. He had bruises all over his face. You kissed each of them softly, giving him an Eskimo kiss.

“I’m so glad you made it out, darling. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you. My poor baby."

Mauga leaned into your touch, snuggling closer to your warmth. He kisses your cheek, finding his way back to your neck.

“Wanna know the most fucked up part when I got out. They were flying away, and the only reason they came back was because Sigma saw me and started waving, and Sombra came to look. They left me for dead, and I’m not even fucking surprised.”

You scowled “I’m not surprised either; I really wish you never joined Talon in the first place, but I know that as a mercenary, you have to do what you need to.”

He nodded while kissing your shoulder. He pulled you into his chest, and you rubbed your fingers over his bandaged arms.

“For the first time in a long time, I was afraid of dying. I promised myself after the heart surgery I’d live every day like it was my last; I just never thought that day would come as quickly as that. I was actually fucking scared of dying. I didn’t want to die that way, trapped and alone."

You held him tighter, and if you felt your shoulder getting wet, you didn’t say anything about it.

“I thought about you, how I couldn’t leave you, and how I had to get back to you. All I wanted to do was get back to the one person who gave a damn about me.”

“And you did. I’m so proud of you, my love.” You run your fingers through his hair and console him. "You're so strong. I know I worry about you a lot when you go on missions, but I never doubted that you would always come back to me."

You both hold each other while sharing sweet kisses and longing looks. Putting your foreheads against one another, Mauga squeezes your hips, bringing you closer.

“How about we take a bath together? I could look at your wounds, and after that, I’ll warm up dinner for you.”

Mauga nods, kissing your lips softly. “I’d love that, baby."

You got to the bathroom and ran the bath water. You can hear Mauga behind you getting undressed. You turn around and help him take off his wraps. He runs his hands through your hair, kissing your forehead as you slowly remove his bandages.

You couldn’t help but flinch at some of his wounds. You lift his hands, kissing each one of his knuckles. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You both stepped in the tub, but this time you got behind him. You take the shampoo and conditioner and start with his hair. He growled when you scrubbed his scalp; he always loved it when you played in his hair.

He growled and leaned his head back. As you rinsed his hair out, he leaned into you, kissing your jaw and neck. You softly push him away. “Let me wash your back.” He turned back around, letting you wash him.

“Wanna wash all of me?” You roll your eyes at him while he snickers.

“I’m not washing your butt, you dork," he playfully splashes you, causing water to get in your face and all over the floor.

"Oops"

After you both finish up, you dry off his hair, then clean and rewrap his wounds. He holds your waist the whole time, not giving you much room to move. “Do they hurt really bad?”

He gives you a pout, nodding his head. "Yup, kiss em for me?” You laughed at his foolishness. “You know what? Yes, I will.”

You lean in, kissing every one of his bandaged wounds. Mauga runs his fingers through your hair. He brings your face up to his, bringing you into a slow, passionate kiss. Your tongues caress each other, and his hands cover your face while rubbing your temples.

You lean back and kiss his chest, where his two hearts would be. “Let me warm your food up, then we could watch a movie."

He nodded. You both headed downstairs, and while you got his food ready, Mauga didn’t let you go. You are used to him being affectionate, but not this clingy. You didn’t mind, though he almost lost his life. You almost lost him. No matter how long it took, you’d be by his side, spoiling him until he was comfortable.

“Common Mauga I promised you cuddles and a movie."

And that’s how you both ended the night, cuddled up in each other's arms, sharing kisses and light touches. Mauga hands never left you. He nuzzled himself into your chest, and you played in his hair. Laughing at his cute antics.

“Gimmie kiss,” you lean down, kissing his lips.

"Another.” You start laughing; the sight of the giant man pouting and giving you puppy dog eyes was so adorable.

When you kiss him again, Mauga bites your bottom lip, sucking on it. Once he lets you go, you can’t help but ask something that’s been on your mind.

“You’re not going back to them, are you?”

“Don’t know"

You sighed, not really liking the answer, but not questioning it.

“Just know you don’t need them to make a living."

He looks up at you, kissing your nose.

“I know; all I need is you."

And after that, you couldn’t help but give Mauga all the kisses he wanted.

[stellarbit]

1000 Follower Celebration

I never thought much of my work so I've waited to do celebrate until 1000. For those who've followed and anyone who liked, commented, or reblogged anything, here is an event as thanks. Please know that this blog and those in this fandom mean so much to me. I read every tag, comment, and reblog and they make my day every time.

If you've followed me for awhile you'll know my writing can be slow and fickle. As a thank you I am committing to fulfilling the requests I receive between November 23rd - November 30th. After that I'll be closing my requests until I work through them.

Now let's get to it!!

Some quick rules

Pick up to 3 prompts.

I'll take individual character requests or something like "members of the 501st/Bad Batch reacting to" requests as well.

I will be doing requests for Clones/Star Wars first and then any previous fandoms I've written for.

I will not be taking anon requests for this event

Let me know what character(s) you want.

If you have them, please state SFW/NSFW preferences

If you have them, please state what gender preference you have.

I retain the right to not write prompts that are uncomfortable/extreme for me.

Tell me as many details as you want, it really helps! You can DM me too if you'd like to discuss.

If you've submitted previous request you'd still like done, feel free to send it again. Tumblr has vanished some requests and I've never seen them again

Please be patient, I waited until life calmed down to focus on this event but writing takes time.

Prompt List

My favorite prompts are the personal ones. If you've been going through anything and you'd like comfort, distraction, or in character advice from your favs, I'm here for you. It's been helpful for me and I'd love to do that for you. Be as specific as you want <3

I'll take continuation requests for previous fics. (I am working on Two Faces pt 3 and aim to finish the Hound drabbles from the past, so if its for them don't you worry, just be patient please.)

Tropes

And there was one bed~

Love at first sight

Hate at first sight

Fake dating

Locked in together

Aphrodisiac

Amnesia

Sharing body heat

Kissing as a distaction

Dying confession

X denying their feelings for Y until Y shows interest in someone else.

X teaching Y something

Carrying bridal style

Confessing during fight

Romance/Fluff

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“I didn’t know love until you.”

“You’d be easy to love.”

“You are my equal in every way.”

“I will never stop fighting for you.”

“If there was anyone meant for me, it was you.”

“You say you love me, but you don’t know me.” “Then let me.”

“They don’t compare to you. No one does/ever has.”

“Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like you love me.”

“I could make you feel better.”

“Beautiful.”

Angst:

“We could’ve been us.”

“I don’t want your apology.”

“It would be easier if I didn’t know you.”

“You said you wouldn’t leave and then you did.”

“I feel like I’m falling apart.”

“All I’ve ever wanted is for you to see me.”

“What is it about me that isn’t good enough?”

“At least I kept my promise.”

“Does he/she/they not know about me?”

“You look exactly the same.”

Funny&Misc

“You’re family.”

“Bite me.”

“What a pretty sight.”

“Get over it.”

“I thought you couldn’t stand me.” “I lied.”

“You’re bleeding.” “No shit.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?” “No.”

“I thought I was alone.”

“Stop staring at me to distract me.” “Oh, I’m not trying to distract you.”

“I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this.”

“Are my eyes deceiving me or is that a smile, my love?” “Oh, shut up.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen something go so wrong so fast.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?” “No.”

“What kind of dumb question is that?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

"it wouldn’t hurt you to smile you know." “it will.”

“I can do it myself.”

“What a tease.”

“I’m hilarious.” “You’re traumatized.” “Is there a difference?”

“All this sneaking around is going to get us into trouble.”

LETS DOOO IT THANK Y'ALL

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

Pretty As A Picture - Chapter 5

Marvel

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Theme: Soulmates - Feeling the connection as soon as you see each other.

Summary: When Bucky fell from the train, their soulmate was told he was gone. When Steve Rogers disappeared into the ice, their soulmate was again told one of her soulmates were gone. But she didn't believe it. Couldn't believe it. Committed to a mental health institute, she dies of a broken heart. That's at least what the hidden S.H.I.E.LD files say, but if that's the case than why is there a photo of her. A photo that shows her side by side two redhaired Avengers.

Warnings will be per chapter.

For this fic reader will be British, but let your imagination replace if needed.

Chapter Summary: Where are you? What does anyone know? And is Nat unfairly getting the blame?

Chapter Warning: Mentions of mental health, death, loss, electric shock therapy.

Wanda’s eyes went wide and she snapped to look at Nat.

“Have you seen this? Have you seen this before?”

Natasha shook her head.

“You never showed me this Steve. Why wouldn’t you show this to me? To any of us?”

Steve sighed.

“Honestly, it hurt too much. Every time I look at it, every time I look at her, see her face. It feels like my heart is being crushed. To everyone else it’s seventy years, for me, well, it’s not. I look at it and I can smell her perfume, hear her voice, feel her. The chances of her still being here were small. When I was first given a stack of files from Fury, some of you were in them, so were Howard and Peggy, but she wasn’t. When I asked Fury, he didn’t know who I was even talking about, and if anyone could find anything it was you or one of you. This is all I have of her and I couldn’t risk losing that.”

“But you realise that this would have helped us look right? Sure there’s nothing from then but if you’d have shown Nat this, or Clint? It would have been ‘oh hey, I know her’ but instead you’re giving Nat shit. That’s not cool Cap.” Sam replied.

“This is all we have. The evidence shows she’s dead.”

“That’s her Steve.”

“I know Buck, look, I looked for her myself once I’d got a hand on the technology. There was nothing until that file and I gave you all a very clear description and…”

“Now hang on” interrupted Clint “you think hair and eye colour are a good description. Rogers there’s billions of people in the world, and you’re questioning us?”

Steve remained stoic. Bucky however, couldn’t seem to get a reign on his emotions. This was a chance of him getting his girl back, he wasn’t about to hide things.

“He was scared.”

“Buck!”

“Tony’s right. After everything that’s happened, everyone, including you and me, promised no more secrets, no more lies. You were scared Steve, hell, I’m scared too. What if she doesn’t want me after all these years, after all I’ve done.”

“Bucky”

“No Steve, I know you. If you’d have given Nat, Tony, any of them that picture, it would have been ran through every single database in the damn world and I’m pretty sure Friday or Tony could have aged her, taken into account any changes to her appearance, part of you was scared. Scared that if she was around, if she’d survived from back then, that she’d be old, wouldn’t remember you like Peg or that we’d have put her in danger again.”

“Aliens came out the sky Buck.”

“Exactly!”

“I had no reason to not believe Peggy.”

Seeing the conversation becoming heated, Tony decided at this point to step in.

“I’d like to add something if I may. Peggy Carter was my godmother and I knew her as well as you can when someone is your parent’s friend. I never heard them speak about your soulmate or any other female agents, map girls, just each other, you two, Phillips and the Howling Commandos. So all of this, deleting her, behaving like she didn’t exist was to keep her safe. If their truth was to out when Peggy died then it would be neatly put together just like this. If there was anything else, it would be in her file, if there was a clue to anything else it would be here in Peggy’s handwriting. I want to help you Capsicle, and you” nodding at Bucky, “but I need everything and I need Friday to scan that photo, you don’t need to move it, none of us need to touch it but we need it.”

Steve nodded and Bucky uttered a quiet ‘please’.

“You all saw that right, he nodded. I’m taking that as consent. F.R.I.D.A.Y get to work, scan the photos on the table and capture all the info in this file. Romanoff, gonna need her info.” Tony stood as projections came up over the coffee table that sat between the sofas they were all sat on.

“Freelance British Agent 21. Code name White Knight.” Said Nat.

“Why is it locked?”

“You have to high level clearance according to the screen.”  Vision pointed out.

Tony gasped in mock horror.

“Well most of us are still on the naughty list. Friday scan Rhodey for access.”

“Access denied Boss.”

“Access denied. What? I’m on the good list!”

“Boss none of you will get access.”

“Unless” Romanoff started “you have an access login given to you by the agent herself.” Nat typed in her phone and projected the result to go against the others.

“Just to loop back around, earlier the contact you were talking about, it’s her?” Asked Tony.

“Yes. Does that matter?” Natasha asked.

“No, but unless you haven’t noticed I’m incredibly nosy.”

Clint snorted with laughed. “Oh you and Y/N are going to get on like a house on fire.”

“Nat don’t let the two of them spend too much time together.” Laura added.

“Why not?” Steve and Pepper replied at the same time.

“World domination springs to mind.” Clint muttered.

“Oh I definitely like her already. Ok, Friday, what do we have?”

“The results are inconclusive boss.”

“What? What does that mean?” Asked Bucky.

“Break it down F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Tony replied.

A fresh batch of projections displayed.

“Examining the facial features, matching the structure and identifying marks, is a 100% match but her DNA and genetics test show she’s not of the age of Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes soulmate would be.”

There was sighs around the room. Vision spoke first.

“It’s unlikely that the testing could have been tampered with due to the secure way it’s taken.” Vision pointed out. “Although her last testing is past the usual repeat time.”

“How is she still working if she’s missed testing? It’s a requirement for the health check.” Rhodey added.

“Must of been busy.” Clint said, trying to brush past the comment.

Bucky watched as Nat seemed to find an interesting spot on the meeting room carpet that she couldn’t take her eyes off, Bruce rubbing circles on her knee. Clint was now looking off screen, Laura had disappeared.

“OK, what is it you’re not saying?” He asked.

“Who you talking to Buck?”

“These four. Bruce, Nat, Laura and Clint, you’re not lying but there’s something you aren’t saying.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y interrupted.

“Boss, we’ve got a visitor.”

“Well, don’t let them in.” Tony instructed.

“Sorry boss but it’s Deputy Director Hill and she’s used her pass.”

“Wilson, your booty calls here.”

Sam shook his head.

“Actually Boss, she’s here to see Agents Romanoff and Barton.”

Before anyone had time to comment further, Maria entered the room. Tony acted quickly, minimising the screens that displayed their soulmate, wanting to respect Steve and Bucky’s privacy.

“And what brings you here Hill? That isn’t Sam’s sparkling personality?” Tony asked getting him a swat from Pepper.

The team shook their heads at Tony’s poor joke. Maria didn’t even flinch or react. Her lack of reaction causing everyone to turn to look at her fully.

Her eyes were blood shot, face damp from tears and she looked liked she hadn’t slept in a week. The enhanced in the room could smell the coffee she’d clearly been living off, along with a faint hint of scotch. Steve would guess one glass, thirty minutes ago.

Pepper stood first, nearest placed to Hill. Sam also stood to go towards her.

“Maria what is it? What’s wrong?” Asked Pepper. She held her hand up to stop them going further.

“I’m here in my role as Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton as….” She paused and swallowed hard.

“This isn’t a mission is it?” Sam asked.

Maria lowered her head and took a breath, when she looked up, she locked eyes with Nat, who was now also standing.

“Shall we do this here or in private?”

Nat had a horrible feeling. A feeling deep down in her stomach that this was the worst kind of news. She had seen Maria in this state twice. Once when Coulson died (or so they thought) and the same when Fury had (or so they thought - again). Clint spoke before Nat had chance to reply.

“Just spit it out Hill, so I know if I need to get on the jet or not.”

Maria glanced at Nat who nodded.

“According to our records and that of MI5 and MI6, you are registered as next of kin and the emergency contacts of Freelance British Agent 21, code name White Knight. As my role of Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D I’m here to inform you that 50 hours ago, during a covert mission for our agency, Agent 21 missed her checkpoint. Due to the evidence found two hours ago, she is now declared as missing in action, presumed dead."

Enjoy this fic? Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

[absurdthirst]

Birthday Wishes {Agent Whiskey x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Jack being absolutely besotted, public sexual activities, vaginal fingering, slight exhibitionism, oral sex (female receiving), multiple orgasms

Comments: Jack promises to make your birthday a night to remember.

💝🎉🎊🎁Happy Birthday @wardenparker!!!!! You are an amazing friend and co-writer, I am lucky that you want to spend time with a nut like me! I hope you have an amazing birthday today. 💝🎉🎊🎁

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Agent Whiskey MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Sugar, you are as pretty as a picture and twice as sweet.” Your eyes shift from the mirror where you had been carefully touching up your makeup under the bright bulbs of your vanity to where Jack’s warm brown eyes are watching you. They darken slightly and on edge of that cock mouth curls up and lifts his neatly trimmed mustache. You know what is about to come out of his mouth. “We can always stay home and have our own celebration right here, sans clothes.” 

It shouldn’t be tempting, but when Jack Daniels is your lover, your partner, it’s always on the table. The man could talk you out of plans and out of your clothes so fast, your head would be spinning. And not just from that talented mouth eating your pussy like it was nectar of the Gods. 

“You always say that, Jack.” “‘Cause you always tempt me to keep you for myself, sugar.” Strong, warm arms slide around your soft stomach and he squeezes you tight as his nose and mouth burrow in at your shoulder. Giving you a view of his artfully combed hair. The cowboy hat hadn't gone on his head, just yet. “Fuck, you always smell so good.” 

It was the perfume he had bought you. One of the first gifts he had brought from a mission when he had decided to ‘court’ you. His words, although you find the old fashioned vernacular charming and very fitting. Jack might be crass at times, but at others he is the height of a southern gentleman. 

His mustache tickles and makes you shiver, followed by his hot mouth ghosting over your pulse and pressing petal soft kisses to your skin. Making gooseflesh pebble your skin and your eyes slip closed as you sigh out his name. 

He’s good at distracting you. Those large hands sliding over your stomach and traveling up to cup your breasts. His groan against your skin is low, already husky rumble even raspier as he slowly massages the flesh in his hands through your bra. You hadn’t dressed yet, waiting until  your hair and makeup is done before you slide your dress on. 

“Jack.” You whine, eyes half closed and your lips poised in a pout as you instinctively lean to the side to give him more room to do whatever he wants with your body. “You planned tonight.” You remind him. 

“Next time, smack me upside the head.” He huffs, reluctantly pulling away from where he was nibbling on your shoulder to send you an playfully unhappy look in the mirror. “For being such a fool to think I wouldn’t want to keep you home and to myself.” 

Rolling your eyes at him, you smirk and lift a brow. “Finish getting ready, Mr. Daniels.” You chide. “You promised me a night out for my birthday and that is exactly what I am getting.” 

Letting go of your tits, Jack winks at you and grins. “Of course you are, sugar.” He promises with a smirk. “Tonight is going to be a night you never forget.” 

****

“Jack!” Your surprised squeal is muffled against his jacket, although you shouldn’t be surprised. Jack’s fingers, push aside the material of your panties and those thick, nimble fingers quickly find your sex slick with desire. “We are in public!” 

“So?” His chuckle fans out warmly over your skin and he rubs your bundle of nerves before his thumb presses against it and two fingers push slowly inside you. “No one is paying attention and I can’t help myself.” He defends. “You are too appealing, sugar. Sittin’ here lookin’ like an angel wrapped in sin.” 

The pressing curl of his fingers steals your ability to answer. Mouth dropped open in a soundless moan, only the tiniest squeak manages to sound, barely even reaching his ear except he’s listening for it. 

“Hmmmm.” He rumbles, making sure that he curls his body around you in the booth in the most intimate corner of the restaurant. While he loves pushing the boundaries of propriety, he doesn’t want anyone to actually see you. Your pleasure is his alone. “What’s that, sugar?” He coos softly. “I didn’t hear you.” 

Turning your head, you feel the way that he is absolutely playing your pussy like it’s a stringed instrument. Moaning softly into his ear, your body pulls taunt and starts to roll with the plunge of his fingers. It’s wicked and filthy, letting him finger you right here in the middle of the trendiest restaurant around, the possibility of anyone catching you running high as waiters and guests run around. Still, your fingers grip the fabric of his suit coat and you let him do whatever he wishes to your body as you respond to him. 

The drag of his fingers in and out of your velvet walls makes you hiss in pleasure, the way they pulse around his thick digits similar to how he feels when he is working his cock inside you. Nerve endings firing in pleasure and making the knot in your belly grow every time he pushes them deep. 

“Jack.” You pant softly, trying to keep your voice down as your eyes dart around the room. It makes him chuckle, but the pressure against your clit and the movement of his fingers never pauses. 

“You’re gonna cum for me, sugar.” He promises. “Your pretty little pussy is gonna weep around my fingers and give me a little treat to suck on that will be more delicious than the best dessert in this place.” His chuckle is low and raspy. “Hell, I’d rather set you up on the table and feast on you.” 

He would probably do it, if you were at home. Your table has often been the scene of countless couplings. Now he just intends to make you whine and whimper, shaking with pleasure in public. 

Your finger nails dig into the fabric of his suit, clutching for purchase, to ground you so you don’t go floating away on a cloud of ecstasy while the entire restaurant watches. The wine on the table is barely touched and yet you feel like your head is swimming, thoughts fuzzy to everything but the press of his fingers. 

Jack’s dark eyes watch you, sparkling encouragement from their dark depths. His lips pulled into a smirk as every pass of his fingers rockets you closer to having to muffle a cry. He’s enjoying your pleasure. If you were to reach down and take a squeeze of his cock, you would find him hard as a rock. 

“Just a little more, sugar.” He coos, leaning in and kissing your jaw. “Just a little more and your sweet pussy will be singin’ for me. Can you do that? Can you cum in my fingers and let me have a little taste of you?” 

The raw, rough pitch of his voice and the next swipe of his finger pushes you over the edge. Turning and burying your face against his neck, your muffled moan is barely heard outside your little booth, breathed into the fabric of his suit. “Jack, oh God, Jack.” You whimper, the quiver of your cunt following the molten slick that coats his fingers and makes him hum in satisfaction. 

“That’s it, sugar, cream on ole Jack’s fingers for me.” He whispers in praise, working you through it and humming as your flutter walls start to slow. “Good girl,” He likes the way you pant against his collar, looking just for the world like a woman who is snuggled against her man. “Ride it out.”

Jack’s fingers work you until he can sense that you want him to stop and slowly pull out of your wet heat. The sticky sounds make him grin and his napkin comes up with his hand to cover him discreetly licking his finger clean with a small groan of pleasure. 

Your face flames hot when the server glides back over to the table, either unaware of what had just happened or the soul of discretion to not mention that you are still slightly panting from the way he had just turned your world upside down. Clearing your plates and assuring you that dessert was already on the way. 

Turning towards Jack with a surprised look, you can tell that he had pre-planned this by the very pleased look on his face as he nods and picks up his champagne glass. “To another year that we - and I mean all of us - have been graced with your presence and blessed by your existence.” He taps his glass to yours. “Happy Birthday, sugar.” 

You take a sip of your frothy, bubbly champagne and he winks at you. “This is only the beginning.” He promises, having planned out the entire night out to make sure you know how special you are to him and how much he loves you. 

“Jack.” You huff, almost embarrassed having his attention centered on you like you always are. When Jack is focused, that is the only thing that matters in the world and right now, that focus is on you.  

“Baby girl, you deserve a night that is all your own.” He insists, lips pushed into a pout and winks at you. “I’m going to make sure of it.” A promise that you know that he will not be satisfied until he makes good on.

****

“Jaaaaaaaack.” Your hips jerk and lift under his firm grip, not going anywhere but where he wishes for you to. Completely in control and taking you apart lick by lick as his tongue curls and flicks over your swollen clit. Wrenching moan after unhinged moan out of you as he builds you up for yet another peak. 

You don’t know how long it has been since you last shuddered apart under the coaxing of his tongue, it might have been thirty seconds ago or an hour. Time is suspended when you look down to see his mustache pressed against your mound and his sharply curved nose breathing in the heady scent of your pleasure. 

Jack is meticulous. Bringing you into the house and starting to strip you down. His lips covering every inch of your body and making sure that he whispers praises into your skin as he scatters them artistically on your skin. Fingers trailing as he slowly drags your dress down to let it pool at your feet before sliding under the straps of your bra to pull them down your arms. Stripping much more than your clothes as he undresses you, he’s stripping away the layers of protection and armor until there is nothing left but you and him. 

That is when Jack’s true talent comes out. That mouth. It can be used for quick witted banter or issuing threats that he has the training to back up, sarcastic quips or for smooth reassurances. The best use for it though is when he puts his mouth on you. 

Jack Daniels is a cocky son of a bitch, but he knows what he is doing. He spends the time making sure that he knows every spot on your body that would make you sing his name. Carefully and meticulously mapping your pleasure points to use against you.

Smirking against your cunt, Jack chuckles and flicks his tongue against your clit once more. Pushing you over the edge and you come with a wail of his name. Watching as your entire world explodes and your eyes flutter while you gasp out. Working you through it with a slow suckle on your sex that keeps extending the pleasure and twisting it higher inside you. 

Your fingers tangle into the sheets, the only thing keeping you from floating away as your body shakes and heat floods your system. His name is the only thing that you can manage to say over and over again. Falling off your tongue in gasping praise while your thighs press around his ears and squeeze them tight. 

By the time that he is kissing up your body and settling between your thighs, you are finally floating back down to earth. Cognizant of the smug smirk that rides on his face as he slides up to kiss your lips and nudges his nose against yours. “I love you, sugar.” 

The sentiment is perfect for the moment that he slides inside you. Filling and stretching you out the way that only he can. Your head tilts back and your moan is soft, your legs starting to wrap around his waist. Enjoying the weight of him on top of you and surrounding you. Consuming you. 

Every thrust is slow and measured, letting you feel him. Experience the slow pulses inside you and the sharp twitches as he rocks you both higher. Words of love and praise passing between you with languid kisses. 

“I love you sugar.” Jack groans, wrapping his arms around you tighter. “Happy birthday, gorgeous.” 

Nothing on earth could ever beat birthday wishes from Jack. Nothing. 

[vincess-princess]

we, the psychos

ch. 4

Word count: 2253 Warnings: - A/N: i always knew this fic is destined to be continued. the only question was when.

“You are a fool, Sixx,” Mick said tiredly as he sat down onto the bed where Nikki lay. “Plain and simple.”

“I know,” Nikki sighed, looking down at his bandaged legs and his right hand that had acquired three brand new stitches. It won’t be soon until he can squeeze his fist properly. “I just… you know how it goes. The first cut, you get scared. And then it’s down the emotional rollercoaster. Have you ever been on a rollercoaster, Mick?”

“Barely heard about it,” Mick said. “Is that something Russian-related?”

“Me neither. I’d like to take a ride on there. You’re up in the air – and then you’re falling, but it’s safe falling, it won’t hurt you. Because every time I fall, I end up in the med wing.” He waved at his bandaged legs. “And yeah, I think it’s something Russian-related. Not sure how. Could you get me a book here, Mick?”

“You know Dr. Duren won’t allow that,” Mick shook his head. “He’s already mad at you, I think. It’s been weeks since your last relapse – you made progress, and now this.”

“Oh, don’t you chastise me too!” Nikki rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t, okay? I couldn’t. I was thinking. And it always ends bad.”

“About what?”

Nikki turned away from him and said nothing.

“About what, Nikki?” Mick stretched out his hand, gripped Nikki’s chin and turned his face towards himself to look him in the eyes. Then realization dawned on him.

”Don’t say it’s that Wharton bastard!” he groaned. “You said it was over! You were done! What did he do to you? What did he say?”

Nikki looked away, lips sealed tight, afraid Mick will feel the bitterness filling his mouth.

“You quarreled?” Mick insisted, putting one hand on Nikki’s thigh and squeezing it slightly, making him wince. “What else that was now?”

Nikki swallowed forcefully. He wished nothing of his affair with Vince leaked to the rest of the asylum, but Wharton liked to brag, sometimes overlooking basic safety measures. He could be sure Mick wouldn’t tell anyone, but how long will it be before other patients or, God forbid, nurses suspect something?

“What was that, Nikki?” Mick shook his leg. “You wanna stay silent and keep wallowing in your misery or figure out what to do together?”

“Definitely the second,” Nikki curved his mouth into a bitter smile. “My, well, situation with Vin- with Wharton is none of your business. I appreciate the concern, though.”

“Oh no, that’s where you’re wrong,” Mick looked so indignant Nikki had to hold back a laugh. He’d never seen old man redden as much. “It is exactly my business, and you know why? Because I don’t wanna go to your funeral, and don’t you even hope I waste my money on a wreath for you. You get me?”

“Yeah, yeah. The usual threats.”

“You damn better believe them!” Mick rose from his chair and crossed the room, standing in front of a barred window. “You don’t wanna tell me anything – fine. I’ll find out myself. I heard Wharton is in a padded cell now, but once he’s out you bet I’m gonna ask him. And he ain’t gonna get rid of me that easy.”

Oh god. Mick considered it above himself to speak to Vince, but once he set up on something he was unstoppable. Nikki couldn’t allow him to intervene in their relationship.

“I’ll speak to him myself,” Nikki said hurriedly. “We have some things to resolve. And them I’m gonna be good. I promise.”

Mick smiled. “Now you’re talking different.” Damn manipulator. He knew how to force Nikki to do what he didn’t want to do, and used it constantly. For Nikki’s sake, of course, but what Nikki needed and what Mick thought Nikki needed were vastly different things. “You do that right when he gets out, and tell me how it went later.”

“Sure, sure.” Whatever Vince was gonna say was definitely not what Mick would wanna hear. Nikki needed to invent some palatable lie after their talk.

“Alright.” Mick turned to Nikki. “I’m gonna work the med wing for one more week. You need to come for bandaging again in two days, then in a week we’ll be removing stitches if everything goes well. After that you won’t have any allies here anymore, and the local nurses don’t really bother caring for self-harmers like you. So you better keep your hands to yourself. Got me?”

“I appreciate everything you did for me, Mick.”

“Sure you do! Now, I’ve still got a couple patients to attend. Off you go.”

“Thanks again.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.”

Walking was painful – the bandages grinded on stitches and irritated them. Maybe it would be better to take them off altogether – when the wounds would close enough to not bleed through his pants randomly. Which they yet haven’t.

A nurse escorted Nikki to his ward. He used to share it, but his cellmates didn’t like his pacing and talking when manic, so he was transferred. Now he almost missed those manic spells – at least he was feeling great about himself during them. But the last one was seven months ago, and since then it’s only been deeper and deeper into the darkness.

On the other hand, he was manic when he and Vince decided to hook up the first time. Weren’t for that, he’d never approach the sex-obsessed narcissistic ticking bomb that Vince was. Nikki knew him better now, and that description fit even more.

He stayed in his cell until lunch, when Dr. Duren was to see him. It was boring inside, and the stitches began to itch underneath the bandages. Nikki knew better than to scratch them with his nails, but it was extremely hard to keep his hands away. The couple hours he had to wait seemed an eternity.

Hudson came to escort him.

“Yeah, man, you’re in deep,” he told Nikki right off the bat. “Dr. Duren is very disappointed.”

“Thanks, that’s very encouraging,” Nikki muttered. “What’s it gonna be?”

“No idea.” Hudson shrugged. “C’mon. He’s already pissed today. Heard what Wharton did?”

God, what was it again?

“No, I wasn’t at breakfast, remember?”

“Oh, if I’m gonna remember where all of you bastards were and when I’ll have no memory left for my stuff.” Hudson waited until Nikki shuffled out of his ward and closed the door. Together they headed down the hall. “He got in a fight! Again! And that’s right after being released from the padded cell! The fucking audacity!”

Nikki’s heart skipped a bit. “He sure has enough of that. Who was the sorry fellow?”

“The newbie. You probably haven’t seen him yet. Looked feeble, but did pack Wharton a punch.”

Was that the laughing guy? Nikki didn’t dwell on it much, though. Vince’s fate was much more interesting to him.

“And what of him?”

“He’s back to his ward. Duff said it’s real fancy, with curtains and carpet and all. Who even is that guy?”

“No, I mean Wharton.”

“Oh, him? Probably back to the padded cell. Simmons talked some about a cold shower too. Maybe that will bring him back to his senses.”

Vince underwent such “therapy” at least on a monthly basis, and it kept him relatively docile for a couple weeks after. So docile that he didn’t even want to fuck, which was always alarming. Nikki didn’t like him docile. That wasn’t what he liked him for.

“Don’t you think it just makes him worse? Being treated like that?”

Hudson looked at Nikki like he was cra- oh, right.

“C’mon, Feranna. You’re a smart guy. You should understand that some patients simply do not understand humane approach. It’s the nature of their illness. They only respect those that can show who calls the shots here. And people who treat them well – they just use them.”

Nikki knew that, yes. But Vince wasn’t like that. Or rather, he was, usually. But not with Nikki.

Or maybe Nikki was just fooling himself as usual, and Wharton just used him like Hudson said. Who knows.

Nikki pushed the thought in the back of his mind. He had other problems now. They stood in front of Dr. Duren’s door.

“I’m fucked?” Nikki half-asked Hudson.

“Thoroughly,” the nurse said honestly. “Well, in you go. I’ll wait here to escort you to the canteen afterwards.”

Nikki nodded and knocked on the door. His hand slightly shook, and he clenched it into a fist.

“Come in,” he heard. Nikki inhaled and walked in.

***

It had rained, and the garden looked especially unappealing this cold autumn day. What month was it, October? It hadn’t snowed yet, but it was already getting dark before dinner. Yeah, probably mid-October.

Mick had lost count of days long ago. It was all approximate now: snow fell first in mid-November and melted in April, the first birdsong came in March (Mick could hear it because he usually wasn’t sleeping in early morning), the sun rose before breakfast starting early May. His whole world was based on the asylum routine. It was not bad, really. Brought predictability into life. And Mick preferred to know what would happen in the foreseeable future.

Except sometimes it was disrupted. A patient would leave – some were cured and discharged, some died. The first case, those didn’t usually stay long at the asylum anyway so Mick didn’t really care. The core of the asylum population remained relatively the same for the last couple years – the sickest of the sickest, those that wouldn’t survive on their own or those that would make it hard for everyone else in the outside world. Some of them spent years in the asylum. For them, cure was considered unattainable and the only way out was death.

Mick was one of them – not the worst, though. Staff knew he was one of the calmest, most reasonable ones and were rather lax with him. Doesn’t hurt himself or others? Doesn’t shit his pants or throws plates at others in the canteen? Great patient, no special attention needed.

That’s why no one bat an eye when he wandered away from the main group that was cleaning up the yard from the fallen leaves. Nurse McKagan cast an occasional look in his direction, but that was it.

Now nurse McKagan was occupied talking with a patient. Mick hadn’t seen him here before; more than that, he wasn’t wearing an asylum robe, but rather fancy though simple trousers, an unbuttoned coat hanging loosely off his bony shoulders and a shirt with puffy sleeves underneath it. The sleeves looked ridiculous, but the guy managed to pull it off. He was young, way too young to be here, though Wharton was probably his age. He belonged here as much as a flower belonged on a heap of cow shit.

He was probably the one that arrived in a carriage at night. Mick hadn’t been at breakfast, but he heard the new guy already got into a fight with Wharton. While Wharton deserved that, it didn’t instill much hope in the new guy. He seemed to have gotten off the hook this time – though not without a bruise on his swelled cheekbone.

Well, he beat Wharton’s ass at least, and the bastard truly needed it.

Mick plucked a lone brown leaf off a branch in front of his face. It was always harder in autumn and winter – now everyone could see through the trees circling the asylum territory, and the feeling of an intent gaze on Mick’s skin intensified when outside. He rubbed the spot, but it didn’t go away. It never went away.

Mick tore the leaf into tiny pieces and watched them float to the ground. When he turned around, he saw McKagan right in front of him. He realised it was McKagan a couple moments later, after he already swung a punch.

McKagan yelped indignantly. He dodged at the last moment, and the fist barely grazed him, but it was probably unpleasant anyway.

“Deal! The fuck you doing!”

“Don’t sneak up on me! You know I can’t handle it!” Mick yelled back and breathed in deep to calm his racing heart.

“Alright, fair. I should’ve called you.” McKagan was the only nurse who could ever admit he was wrong, and patients appreciated him for that. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been at the asylum long – a couple of months at this point. He was too kind for this place. Psychos couldn’t handle kindness.

“What do you want?” Mick tried to sound friendly, to make up for his bout of aggression, but didn’t succeed much. McKagan didn’t take it too close to heart, though.

“I wanted to show Tommy,” – he pointed at the new guy standing a bit aside, eyeing Mick carefully, - “the grounds, but Stanley is sick today, and we don’t have enough staff to look after the main bunch. You’re a rather reasonable fellow, and you know everything here, so I thought you could show him around.”

“Me?” Of course, Mick was on good terms with most of the stuff, but McKagan definitely had too much confidence in him. Mick was a patient for a reason, after all.

“Yes, you.” The nurse smiled. “I’ll tell him not to sneak up on you.”

Well, that could be interesting. The new guy had hardly talked with anyone so far. Everyone must be dying of curiosity. And Mick here got a chance to learn as much about him as possible.

“Alright,” he said. “Will you introduce us?”

[sabo-has-my-heart]

All I Need is You

a... cute? little Sanji fic

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending I promise, heartbreak, WCI spoilers

Word Count: 1370

He didn’t love you, he couldn’t love you. Well, that probably wasn’t entirely true. He loved all women… all women, he didn’t love you any more than he loved Nami or Robin or the random girl at the market. You wanted him to love you though. To love you and only you. But he didn’t, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t. You would never have his heart like he had yours. And it hurt, in the darkness of night, when you were alone and nobody could hear you, you would allow the tears to fall and cry until there was nothing left. Then you’d return to your room and fall into a deep, exhausted slumber. The next day you’d go about things as if nothing was wrong, as if you weren’t yearning for him, as if your heart wasn’t aching for him.

His love for you was… terrifying. He’d always loved women, all women, but you, he loved you more than any woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Not even the pirate empress nor the mermaid princess could ever hope to rival your beauty in his eyes. You radiated pure beauty, but not just your physical beauty, you shone from the inside, at least, you did to him. It scared him. It terrified him. So he was a coward, he was a coward and hid behind his love for women. How could a goddess, a pure and untainted creature such as you ever fall for a perverse, deviant man like himself? So he did his best to not let his true feelings show. Instead, his dreams were filled with moments spent with you. Not even sexual moments, but simply moments spent dancing, cooking, holding. Moments where he was simply allowed to love. 

His wedding had your heart stopping. He… was getting married? He would… be leaving the crew? It was like a dagger in the heart, one that finally let loose the torrent of emotions that you’d held within yourself, and you screamed at the heavens. For the first time, you allowed the others to see your pain and anguish, to see your tears as you collapsed to the ground. Your world was being ripped from under you and there was nothing you could do. You weren’t strong enough, you couldn’t stop it. Even still, you joined Luffy in his rescue mission. For what it was worth, you had to try. Perhaps that’s why it hurt so much when he pushed you away, why your heart felt like it was breaking when he called you ‘inferior’, why it hurt so much when he talked about marrying Big Mom’s ‘beautiful daughter’, and why his claim about being happier there stabbed so deeply. 

“Sanji, please don’t… please… I… I love you, I’ve loved you for so long, please don’t do this.” you pleaded, tears running down your cheeks. Please let it be a lie, let it all be a lie, or a nightmare, anything but reality. 

His heart stopped. You loved him. You, his goddess, his life, his personal ‘All Blue’, his very reason for breathing, you loved him. You loved him and he had to turn you away. He wanted to break down then and there, he wanted to wrap his arms around you and apologize for everything he said, to confess to you how he felt. But he couldn’t.

“Why would I ever love a disgusting, repulsive creature? Are you even truly a woman?” he asked, revulsion and disgust painted across his beautiful features. ‘Why would I ever love a disgusting, repulsive creature like myself after what I’ve done to you? Are you even truly a woman and not a goddess?’ but those words went unsaid, he forced the words back before turning away. Once more, you screamed at the heavens as you wrapped your arms around yourself. Your heart had shattered. No, it hadn’t shattered, shattered things, they were still physical, they could be fixed, they still existed. Your heart, it felt like it would never be fixed, like nothing of it remained. You didn’t speak a word after that, even when the truth behind his betrayal was revealed, you didn’t say a thing, didn’t look his way, how could you? How could you bear to look at him after that?

The way you avoided looking at him, your silence, it was immediately noticeable to him and it hurt. He wanted to apologize for everything, wanted to tell you the truth, but you hated him now. You had to. He had broken your heart, and now, now he’d ruined his one chance at your heart. He’d never forgive himself for what he’d done, what he’d said. He’d broken the heart of a goddess and for that, he deserved the deepest pits of hell. Maybe… maybe after all this was over, he could apologize, tell you that he didn’t mean it, any of it. That in truth, he loved you too, that he had for a long time. You’d never forgive him, you’d reject him, but he deserved it. So long as he told you the truth, so long as you knew he didn’t mean a word of it. 

Sailing away, he took you aside, bringing you to the back of the Sunny, away from the prying eyes of the crew. Still, you were silent, still, you refused to look at him.

“Y/n… what you said back there, the last words you spoke to me… did you mean it? I… I know you haven’t said a word to me since then and I… I deserve it. I broke the heart of a beautiful lady, but I need to know.” he begged, looking at you with desperate eyes. Your own watered, a beautiful woman, that’s all you were to him, just another beautiful woman, probably a dime a dozen to him. You hesitated, how could you not? After everything that had happened.

“I… I meant it, I’m… I’m sorry Sanji, I… you don’t have to like me back, I… I can take my confession back-”

“No! No, please, please don’t take it back! Y/n… I… I love you too, I have for so long. But a goddess like you deserves better, so much better than what I am, better than what little I have to offer you. Not even a prince deserves one such as you, with such brilliance and radiance. I broke your heart and for that, I can’t be forgiven, but please, don’t ever take back your confession.” his words were more than just pleas, more than begging, they were desperate, anguished, and filled with self-loathing as he fell to his knees, taking your hand in his, tears cascading down his cheeks as he dared to look up into the eyes of such an amazing woman. Yet despite the hatred he expected, he saw only adoration reflected back at him. The same adoration he always felt for you, yet it shone in your eyes, shone for him. 

“I never wanted more, all I wanted was you, Sanji, all I needed was you. If… if you don’t want me to take back my confession, then… then please, stay with me… I don’t care what ‘little you have to offer me’. You were always more than enough, just how you were. I don’t need anything more. All I need is you.” you whispered, kneeling down so you were eye level with him, caressing his cheek. He leaned into your touch, his heart stuttering at the heavenly feeling.

“I… I don’t deserve you, but may I have you anyhow? You’ve always had my heart, could I have yours?” he asked, the tears slowing as you let out a choked laugh, wiping away his tears as best you could.

“It’s been yours since the moment I met you. I love you, Sanji.” you said, pulling him in for a soft kiss, one he gladly returned. 

“I am yours to do with as you wish. I’ll be at your every beck and call, my goddess.” he promised once you had pulled away. Smiling, you nodded, resting your forehead against his. 

“And I’ll be at yours… my prince.” you said, perhaps a little teasingly. Then again, he’d always been your prince, well before you knew about Germa.

[flfverse]

i love promising things and not following up. it’s awesome. superrrrr cool. anyway, little life/fic update for you all. it’s 4am, please bear with me.

i wanted to wait to do this until i had more work done so i could drop snippets and have an actual date for the hiatus to end, but you know.

to be honest, the brain? is not great. where’s the halloween meme. mental is hocus. health not pocus. etc etc. and the thing is i have a support system of sorts, therapy, all that good stuff. i also have, like, four or five mental illnesses. and because of the logistics of College, none of my support system is actually physically nearby most of the time. so. that kinda sucks. <3 i miss people. horrified to discover i might actually be an extrovert and just anxious.

but you know, ups and downs. this week, or at least this weekend, we’re on an up, which is good. the shitty part is, this time last year i coped by writing so, so much fanfiction. truly, look at my ao3 september-december 2022. wild.

and i just. can’t really write these days, for whatever reason. not easily. and it sucks! because i love this story! i want to tell it so bad! but the initial hyperfixation has worn off and my motivation to do anything at all is a bit….how do you say….nonexistent. so like. halfhearted cheers. sorry.

the best timeline i can give right now is this: i have a fandom trumps hate auction due december 31st. it’s about half done. that is obvs first priority (after silly things like school and work) because there are actual material consequences if i don’t finish. i am also launching something original in january, if i can get myself together enough to do so. i think i will. i’m mostly ready (and hey, my main is in my pinned if queer fantasy pirates sounds up your alley?).

and also, there’s FLFverse. i would really like to get back to posting before the year is up, but :/ not sure. definitely want to by january. i’m not sure if i’ll be able to keep up with two chapters a month or if i’ll have to drop to one or something even more sporadic than that.

hey, be honest, would you rather wait longer for me to build a backlog for regular updates, or get the ball rolling sooner but with no schedule?

we have a poll now i guess. it’s seriously 4am and i’m about to go back to making paper mache bones on the floor, mkay. don’t ask me to be normal.

so anyway. that’s the update. i wish it was more positive. if you made it all the way to the end and want to toss an ask, a little prompt, a question, whatever, that would be very cool. i think i have a chill week coming up and i miss this ‘verse a ton, wouldn’t mind some dopamine.

[susurrus-by-fc-praxis]

Currently, Chapter 15 has writer’s block beating me over the head with a club, so I’ve not been able to write anything solid in about a week or so 🥲

So lemme tell you a bit about my main character! She’s a personal reflection of myself, despite the fact that she wholly identifies as a woman whereas I’m a lovely non-binary creature 🥰🥰🥰🥰💗

Akatani “Tani” Hikanari (MC)

(Ahk-UH-tahn-ee) (Hee-kuh-nar-ree)

I’m giving enough info out but not enough for spoilers; I’ve also included the pronunciation of her name because I wanna make sure that it’s read properly (I’m not trynna sound like a pain in the ass about it, I promise) 🤣

•Well for starters she’s a fucking spitfire and a half tbh (gee I wonder why?) 🤣🤣

•Tani is 20 years old at the beginning of the fic 😁

•She’s got long, silky, jet-black hair, jet-black eyes, and an athletic yet vaguely curvy physique (C-cupped chest, slightly wide hips, and a plump lil 🍑)

•She’s loud and willful and will throw herself in harm’s way to protect her students, her friends, and her Village 🥰

•She’s the jinchūriki of the Two-Tailed cat Matatabi, a being who’s the fucking complete opposite of my OC; where Tani is loud and uses vulgar language, Tabi is more formal/polite yet kind, like fr Tabi is so fucking nice and respectful and chill (until she’s not tho) 🤭🤣

•Tani’s favorite color is a darker shade of green, think like an evergreen

•Her favorite foods are miso soup, pork tonkōtsu ramen, and steamed gyoza

•As far as sweets go, she loves strawberries; like she could gorge herself on a bush of them and it still wouldn’t be enough 🤭🤣🍓

•She always smells of cigarettes, and the forest; she smokes to deal with the bullshit she’s had to endure (tbf I’ve done the same shit so I can’t say I entirely blame her 😅🤣🥲)

•She’s a fucking lightweight when it comes to alcohol, like she can get white-girl wasted in no time 🤭🤭🤭🤣🤣🤣

•She was a shinobi in the ANBU Black Ops from the time she was 11 years old until she was 18 🔪🏹

•Idk if weed🌿 is a thing in the canon-Naruto universe, but I def plan to introduce it in the next coming chapters and I feel like Tani would def end up being like me: a chronic pothead 🤣🤣🤣

These are just some lovely little facts about my OC! Please send me an ask if you wanna know more info about Tani! 😁💗✨

Gently tagging some lovely folks that I either know personally or just know from this lovely little corner of the Internet 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

@holdmyteaplease @the-sundry-system @sundry-whovengerslocked @gail-skywalker @macksting @narutwitter @itachianon @cupcakeswriting @emmett-mccarty-cullen @mcshakes

Please reblog this! I’d love for more folks to interact with this 🤭🥰💗

[hintsofhoney]

I’ll Just Get Off By Myself

Paring(s): Dean Winchester x Castiel

Summary: Dean snaps at his Dom, Cas, and gets punished in a... creative way.

Square(s) Filled: "I guess I'll just get off all by myself" for @anyfandomkinkbingo, spanking for @spnkinkbingo

Tags: 18+, Dom!Castiel, Sub!Dean, spanking, masturbation, punishment, aftercare, praise kink, anal play, fluff, smut

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: When I first told @treat-winchesterswith-kindness this idea, she was like, “you’re sadistic”. But then she read it and I’ve changed her mind. I have no idea where I got it from, I think I read it in a fic back in like, 2012 (???) and it just came to my mind when I was writing this fic. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy. Don’t judge me. Beta’d by my loves @treat-winchesterswith-kindness and @deangirl93 🤍 GIF is mine.

You can also read me on Ao3!

DESTIEL MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“I guess I’ll just get off all by myself, then,” Dean shrugged, crossing his arms and tilting his head in an act of defiance, as he watched Cas stop in his tracks and turn around slowly.

“What did you just say?” His voice was deeper than usual, a mix of disbelief and anger seeping into his words.

“I said,” Dean took a step towards him, standing his ground, “I guess I’ll just get off all by myself.” 

Cas looked like he didn’t quite know how to respond to that. Maybe it was his fault for throwing himself into his work so much so that Dean had felt neglected. They weren’t anything exclusive – not technically – but neither of them were seeing anyone else. It wasn’t just because of the great sex they were having with eachother, either. They didn’t want to see anyone else. Not that they’d ever admit that to one another. 

Cas sighed, mimicking Dean’s stance only a few feet across from him, his arms folding over his chest causing his biceps to bulge underneath his suit jacket which didn’t go unnoticed by Dean. “Will you, boy ?” Cas finally said in response to Dean’s claim, his eyes squinting as his head tilted to the side. He took another step closer. “Because you remember what happens when we break rules, right?” 

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. Whether it was on purpose or not, it pissed Cas off just the same. “Wasn’t aware there were still any rules to follow.” 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’ve been so preoccupied with your work that you haven’t so much as glanced in my direction. We haven’t fucked in a week. It’s been even longer since we’ve done a proper scene. What the hell do you expect me to do, Cas? Wait ?”

“Yes, actually,” Cas retorted. “I am sorry that I have been… busy lately. This is just a huge case, but it will be over soon, I promise.”

“Yeah? When is ‘soon’?”

Cas took a deep breath. If Dean was trying to push every last button he had, it was working. “Next Thursday, hopefully. But if you can’t wait until then, go ahead.”

Dean’s face morphed into one of confusion. “Go ahead?”

“Go ahead,” Cas repeated. “That is what you want, isn’t it? A release? I can’t guarantee that it’ll be as pleasurable if you do it by yourself but I can’t stop you, if that’s what you want to do.”

“So you’re givin’ me permission?”

“I’m giving you a choice, like I always do. You can wait and we can have a good time, or you can get off right now and face the consequences.” 

Dean ran his hand down his face in frustration as he bounced anxiously on his toes, trying to weigh the pros and cons of each choice. Next Thursday was a whole eight days away. No way in hell could he wait that long. If he got off now, it’d all but force Cas to do something about it, right? Maybe not something he’d like, but it’d be something . But then that wouldn’t be being a very good boy, and Dean does like how Cas rewards him when he’s been good. But, fuck that. He’d get a reward anyway after whatever punishment he’d have to suffer through.

“God, fuck you, man,” Dean finally said after some thought.

Cas raised his eyebrows. “I assume this means you’re not going to wait?”

“No. Fuck you and your waiting. My balls are gonna fall off.” 

“You’re sure?” Cas asked, the same way he always does – his way of giving Dean one last out to make the right choice. 

Dean responded by trying to walk past him to the bedroom, but Cas caught him by his arm in a firm grip. 

“What?” Dean hissed. 

“I’m allowing you to make your choice, but you’re going to make it right here.”

Dean gulped. “Cas –”

“Go get a towel and the lube and come right back,” he ordered, his blue eyes a shade darker than normal.

Dean debated locking himself in the bathroom as he made his way towards it, but figured that whatever punishment he was going to receive for choosing this and mouthing off was already going to be bad enough. 

He was back in the living room in no time, a towel and bottle of lube in hand, staring at Cas as he waited for further instructions. Cas had sat down on the couch, his case papers spread out on the coffee table, the end of a pen in between his teeth as he glanced over them. He knew Dean was there, but he was being demanding enough tonight; he could wait a few more seconds.

A minute passed before Cas finally acknowledged the other man in the room. “Go ahead,” Cas said, in a tone that translated to, ‘what are you waiting for?’. 

Dean tried not to let the blush creep up on his cheeks as he undressed himself fully and kneeled down on the towel. It’s not like he’d never jacked off in front of Cas before, so he wasn’t sure why he was beginning to feel shy about it now. 

“Are you regretting your choice?” Cas asked, noticing Dean’s hesitation.

“No,” he snapped, quickly. He wrapped his hand around his shaft and tugged a few times, getting him hard in seconds thanks to a week of built-up frustration. He tried his best to ignore the pair of eyes he could feel watching his every move as he poured some lube in his palm and grabbed his cock again. Fuck, it felt good. He’d been good all week. He’d listened to Cas’s rules, he hadn’t touched himself – he deserved this. He closed his eyes and pictured Cas’s mouth where his hand was, and that was enough to make him fully forget that Cas was there watching him for the next few minutes.

Dean came with the image of Cas’s blue eyes looking up at him while he took every last drop of what Dean had to offer down his throat. It was a beautiful image, but then Dean came back to reality as he opened his eyes and looked over at his Dom, who was now leaning back on the couch with his ankle on his knee and his hands resting on his shin. He looked like a proper lawyer in that stance – still in his suit from his work day and a studying expression on his face. It would have made Dean hard in seconds had he just not come all over the towel beneath him.

After a moment or two of silent staring, Cas put both of his feet on the floor and scooted forward a little on the couch, his elbows coming to rest on his thighs as he made his hands into fists and placed his chin on them. “Feel better?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, but with the tone he used he might as well have said ‘duh, that’s a dumb fucking question’. 

Cas sighed deeply, before sitting up straight. “Wipe yourself off and come here,” he commanded, the softness gone from his voice. Dean rolled his eyes – why was he being such a brat tonight? – and obeyed Cas’s request, coming to stand in front of the man not even a minute later. Cas grabbed Dean’s hand and maneuvered him into his lap, his arms resting around Dean’s waist as he looked up into his sub’s eyes. “Would you like to tell me what’s gotten into you, or are you going to keep being a brat?” 

Dean averted his eyes, choosing to stare at the fidgeting hands in his lap instead. He was feeling the shame creep up inside him, beginning a battle with his stubbornness as he decided whether or not he should at least try to be a good sub for the rest of the scene. 

“Dean?” Cas pressed gently, sensing his hesitancy. 

Dean took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Was just feeling ignored, I guess.” 

“Dean, look at me,” Cas ordered, the dominance coming back to his voice. He placed his forefinger and thumb underneath Dean’s chin, not giving him much of a choice. Dean’s green eyes met his, and Cas could read the emotion in them. “I am sorry that I’ve been so busy, I should have been more transparent with you about how busy this month was going to be. That’s my fault. But you must know it’s never my intention to ignore or neglect you, yes?” 

Dean nodded. “Yes, Castiel.”

“And similarly, you know that if you’re frustrated with me, it is not acceptable to communicate that through blatant disrespect, correct?” 

“Yes, Castiel,” Dean replied again, barely audible.

“When you want something from me, what’s the one thing I ask of you?”

Dean gulped. “To ask for what I want.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because communication is important inside and outside the bedroom,” Dean recited, because it’s been ingrained in his head ever since he and Cas had started to see one another. 

“Precisely. I’ve lost count of how many rules you’ve broken in the last hour, Dean, but I can say that you’ve earned yourself quite the punishment, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, Castiel.”

Cas finally released the gentle hold he had on Dean’s chin before helping him stand in front of him again. He held the sub’s hands in his own as he gave him his next instructions. “Go kneel in the bedroom. I’ll be there shortly.”

Once he had heard the bedroom door shut, Cas got up from the couch, running a hand through his hair and letting out a deep breath. If he was being honest with himself, he was at a loss with what to do about Dean. He had never been so blatantly disobedient before, and while Cas did feel bad that he hadn’t done a good job at making sure Dean was feeling cared for, he knew it was no excuse for him to act that way. 

Remembering an… unconventional punishment that he had read on a Dom forum page a few months ago, he walked over to the utility closet and pulled down a bucket of hardware from the top shelf. Digging through the packages of nails and random screw drivers, Cas finally found what he was looking for – an unopened package of sandpaper. Placing it in his inner jacket pocket, he began making his way to the bedroom.

Dean was kneeling at the foot of the bed, his hands crossed behind his back and his head bowed, just how Cas had taught him. He flinched as he heard the door shut after Cas had entered the room, the anticipation of what was to come settling uncomfortably in his abdomen. He had never been such a brat before, and Cas was known to deal out punishments over the smallest infractions. 

“Stand up and bend over the bed,” Cas ordered, and Dean quickly obeyed, keeping his hands crossed at the small of his back without having to be asked. He listened as Cas made his way around the room, opening and closing some drawers, before he came to stand behind him. He inhaled sharply when Cas’s hand came to rub at his bare ass, because he knew the gentleness of his touch would not last for long. 

“I’m going to try a new punishment tonight,” Cas stated. “What are your safewords?”

“Green, I’m good, yellow, take it down a notch, red or Impala — full stop,” Dean recited without having to think about it — it was another thing that Cas had made him memorize at the start of their relationship. Dean appreciated the color system; his previous Doms hadn’t been kind enough to give him one, opting for one specific safeword instead. But he felt better when he had more than one to choose from.

“Good boy,” Cas praised, and Dean’s dick perked up at the words. It looks like he had another round in him after all — but he doubted he’d be coming again tonight. Cas had put him in chastity for weeks for less. 

“Now, you will stay still and quiet for me. I want you to think about better ways you could have expressed your frustrations with me while I get you prepped for your spanking. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Castiel,” Dean practically squeaked. He knew what spanking “prep” included — a plug in his ass and a few hits with Cas’s hand before he would move on to whatever instrument he intended on using for the rest of it. But that wasn’t anything new . Knots formed in Dean’s stomach as he thought about what Cas could have possibly added to tonight.

Dean heard the familiar click of the lube cap, before Cas tapped Dean’s inner ankles with his foot, signaling for him to spread his legs further apart. Dean obeyed, and before he knew it he was feeling the cold liquid on his hole as Cas spread it around generously. Slowly but surely, he was stretched open with the help of Cas’s thick digits, and within minutes he was plugged up and aching for more. 

Cas took the sandpaper out of his jacket pocket, tearing open the plastic packaging and taking out a sheet. It was 80 grit — not too rough but not too smooth — and he hoped that it would get the job done. He placed his hand in one of Dean’s at the small of his back, allowing his sub something to hold on to before he began. 

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he felt a coarse material on his ass, and not the anticipated usual smack. Cas was definitely applying some pressure as he rubbed it in circles on Dean’s left cheek first, and after about 40 seconds, Dean started to feel the burn. He assumed it was sandpaper, which was honestly genius on Cas’s part, he had to admit. It didn’t hurt too bad in the moment, but if he was getting spanked after this — yeah, this was some punishment, alright. 

After Cas was satisfied with the redness of the first cheek, he moved on to the other, and Dean was really starting to feel the lasting effect. He stayed still as Cas finished up, doing a good job at keeping the whines threatening to escape his throat at bay.

Cas stepped back to admire his boy. Bent over for him, plugged up, bright pink cheeks… and he hadn’t even started spanking him yet. “What’s your color, sweet boy?”

Dean squirmed with pride at the pet name. Cas was pleased with how he was taking the punishment, and if it meant that he got to keep hearing the praise from his Dom’s lips, he’d sit there and let his ass take all the abuse Cas had to offer. “Green, Castiel.” 

“You’ve done so well for me, Dean. Did you think about better ways you could have communicated?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Good.” Dean heard a drawer opening, and then Cas spoke again. “I’m going to strike you thirty times with the paddle.” An involuntary whine of protest left Dean’s throat, and Cas raised his eyebrow. “Unless you want me to use the cane?”

“No! No, Castiel, I’m sorry,” Dean quickly replied, braving himself for the pain that was to come.

“I’ll add ten more on with my hand for the whining.”

Dean nodded into the sheets, scared to make any more noises because he didn’t want to fuck up again.

“Now, you’re going to tell me better ways you could have communicated with me after each hit. And when you’re done with that, I want you to count the remaining strikes. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Castiel.”

The first strike wasn’t as hard as Cas usually started with, but fuck, if it wasn’t painful. Dean silently cursed Cas for the sandpaper idea, or whoever gave him the idea of it wasn’t originally his, before remembering he had lines to say here. One , he counted in his head, as to not lose track for when he would have to pick up the counting later.

“I — um, I could have just told you how I had been feeling.”

Another strike. Dean winced. Two .

“I could h-have written you a note or something because I’m better at communicating when I write things d-down.”

The third hit felt harder than the last two. He could already feel the tears welling up in his eyes, partly from the pain, but also because listing out how easy the solutions to his problems could have been instead of disrespecting his Dom was really forcing the shame to sink in. Three.

“I guess I c-could have texted it to you, too.”

Another. Dean held back a yelp as it hit the plug at an angle that pushed it further inside him. Four.

“I could have p-politely asked for attention.”

Cas gave him an approving “mhm” before striking him once more. Five .

“I could have asked for a scene.”

Dean couldn’t think of any more after that one. Another crack filled the air. Dean’s cock twitched when the plug got hit again. 

“Six,” Dean counted, trying not to moan. Between the shame, pain, and pleasure, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. 

“Good boy, you didn’t lose count,” Cas praised, forcing Dean’s heart to swell with pride before the seventh hit came down on him.

“S-seven,” he stuttered, because he knew eight was going to be the one to draw the first tear. Hearing Castiel praise him made him feel good, but being punished made him feel ashamed for the way he had treated his Dom. He deserved this, and yeah, he was going to cry about it because he needed to. All would be well again once Cas started on aftercare, but until then, Dean needed to feel every last drop and twist of the emotional rollercoaster of shame and praise that punishments so often put him on. 

He choked out a raspy “twenty” through tears, and Cas held his hand at the small of his back for the last ten as he struck in rapid succession. With each hit he could feel the plug hit his prostate, and sobs and sniffles filled the air as he willed himself not to come, because he knew he didn’t deserve to. Cas placed the paddle on the comforter before soothingly running his hand over the globes of Dean’s now very red and slightly bruised ass. 

“Shhh, you’re doing so well. What’s your color, sweetheart?” Cas’s voice is nothing but gentleness.

“G-green, Castiel,” Dean sobs, because he could handle ten more. He needs to, in fact, because he has to get through this punishment so he can forgive himself.

“Just ten more, alright? You’re being such a good boy, Dean. You’re doing amazing. I’d like you to count these too, please.”

Dean obeyed, his ass pretty much numb apart from the last six swats, to which Cas delivered right to his “sit spot” on his upper thighs. 

He was still crying as Cas laid down beside him, Cas’s hand still holding onto Dean’s at the base of his back. Cas used his other hand to gently stroke Dean’s hair, shushing and praising him softly as he collected himself. 

“You did so well for me, my love. So, so good.” Cas wiped a tear from Dean’s cheek as their eyes met. “You are beautiful, Dean. My beautiful boy.”

Dean smiled dopily through hooded eyelids as he relaxed, his cock still twitching with every line of praise Cas fed him. 

“I’m going to run you a bath,” Cas said sweetly. “Would you like me to take you with me?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah…”

Cas slowly got up and gently took the plug out of Dean before helping him stand on shaky legs, picking him up bridal-style, and carrying him to the bathroom. He ran a towel under cool water before placing it on the toilet seat, inviting Dean to sit before he ran the bath water. As it was getting to the right temperature, Cas filled a cup with water from the tap and handed it to Dean, before looking in the medicine cabinet for the chocolate he knew he kept in there for moments like these. Sometimes Dean didn’t want him to leave his side when he was in a drop, so it made it easier to have aftercare essentials stashed away in every room of the house. 

Cas broke off a piece of the chocolate bar and handed it to Dean, who ate it slowly between sips of water. The bath was ready by the time he was finished with both.

“Cas?” Dean asked as he looked up at his Dom who was holding out his hand to him.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Cas asked, crouching down in front of him and reaching out to cup his cheek. 

Dean grabbed at his wrist, holding Cas’s hand in place as he leaned into it. “Will you get in with me?” he asked sheepishly, and Cas beamed with pride because the lesson on communication was already working.

“Of course, sweet boy. Yeah, I’ll get in with you. But I’m going to help you in first, alright?”

Dean nodded, taking Cas’s outstretched hand in his own and letting him help him into the tub. The lukewarm water felt good on his abused ass. He watched as Cas got undressed and neatly folded his clothes on the counter, before slotting himself in behind Dean, pulling his back to his chest. 

“I’m so proud of you for asking for what you wanted,” Cas praised in his ear as he placed a soft kiss on his neck. Dean let out a content sigh as Cas held him close.

“Proud enough to let me get off again?” he asked sleepily, only half-joking. 

Cas chuckled before — to Dean’s surprise — wrapping his hand around Dean’s shaft under the water. “Perhaps. But you’ll have to let me tease you a bit first.” 

Dean inhaled a shaky breath. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Y-yeah — yes, Castiel. Anything you want.”

[buckyownsmylife]

fuckboy - chapter xxiv

The one where Chris only wanted to fuck you and you were alright with that.

Chris never promised anything more than what he had to offer: a release - and a good one at that. Recently widowed and new to Hollywood, you’re eager to learn how to live the single life with the help of such a talented teacher. What happens when Chris is the one to start expecting more from the relationship than you are prepared to offer?

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I was a masochist, I knew. There was no reason for me to unblock him, not after what we’d talked, but the second Tom left my house that night, that was precisely what I did. And so it began.

The texts never stopped coming. “I miss you” was a classic. “I can’t stop thinking about you” was a new addition, yet it felt strangely cohesive with what he undoubtedly hoped to achieve through them.

It’s not that I didn’t believe him. I had saw the pain in his eyes that night, had heard the hurt in his voice. I had no doubt he was regretful. I even felt tempted to believe the intensity of the feelings he felt for me, the only ones that would justify this behavior. But the problem was: I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to be second-best or the last fucking choice, not ever again.

But I still tortured myself by reading his messages. They kept me up at night, as I waited for them to come until the early hours of the morning - the time he was falling asleep, probably. And that’s when I finally was able to do the same.

I should have known it wouldn’t stay at that. Not with him seeing the two blue arrows that indicated my reading. It was only a matter of time until he started calling, he was probably only building up his own courage to do so. But I never prepared myself for it, never anticipated it happening so I could build up my own defenses to turn off my phone when it happened.

So I didn’t.

“Hello?” The line was silent on the other side, as if he was holding his breath, not believing I had actually picked up. So we just stood there for a while, both waiting for the other to speak, until my heart beat got back to normal and I felt stupid. “Goodbye, Chris.”

“No, wait!” For whatever reason, I did stop. I didn’t even think there was something he could tell me that would comfort me, but I just wanted to hear him speak. “Let me talk to you,” he begged. “I miss hearing your voice so much.”

His breathing grew harder as my heart picked up its pace. “Please, I-” Whatever he had to say, it was interrupted by a hiccup, although he rushed to complete his thought: “I need you to forgive me.”

I stayed quiet on my side, pondering his words, but most importantly, his silences. “You’re drunk,” I deadpanned, a little disappointed that this was most likely why he was calling, although a part of me wanted to believe he had searched for the courage he needed in the alcohol, and the drinks were bringing his innermost thoughts to surface.

“No!” He immediately argued, making me incredibly mad until he backtracked and admitted in the same breath, “… Okay, yes. But that’s not the point.” I sighed, suddenly tired and wanting to go to bed. He must have heard it, because next time he spoke, his tone was serious, like he had sobered up all at once.

“I’m falling apart without you,” he confessed. “I just want you back. Please. I need another chance, another opportunity to love on you.” I froze at the term he chose, and at the silence that followed, I thought he had frozen too. But then he continued, “I love you.”

“Chris,” I immediately interfered, trying to stop him.

“I do,” he insisted. “Please, believe me.” And I had to close my eyes to stop the tears from running down my cheek. I’d told myself I was done crying over him.

“I don’t want to,” I confessed, and I could hear the frantic fumbling around on the other end of the line, the confusion he didn’t know how to voice until he did.

“Why not?”

“Because that would mean that the first time you told me you loved me, you only did it while drunk, in an effort to win me back.” He was silent as he processed my response, and I remained quiet because I had nothing else to say. I truly expected him to hang up and give up on trying to win me back. There was no way he genuinely wanted me as much as he seemed to believe that he did.

“I’ll tell you again,” he surprised me by saying.

“Chris…” I tried to stop him again, only to be shut down with three words, uttered in the most final of tones:

“It’s a promise.”

[mercy-burning]

Good Little Helper

Pairing: Season 5! Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader gets assigned to be Spencer’s personal assistant of sorts after he gets shot in the knee. Category: SMUT(18+) Content Warnings: fingering (female receiving), blowjob, praise kink, dirty talk, blink and you’ll miss it cumplay Word Count: 4.7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: So, remember yesterday when I posted about how I wished new ideas would stop distracting me from everything I’m currently working on? Yeah. This wouldn’t leave me alone, and I couldn’t work on anything until I got it out of my head, so here! Have a fic! (It was supposed to be a blurb, but I got a little long-winded so now it’s too long to be a blurb oops 😙✌) Also, I apologize for any editing mistakes, I just wrote this out in one go, so hopefully it’s alright!

***

Being assigned to assist Dr. Reid with practically his every need after he was shot in the knee wasn't exactly how I expected to spend the past few months.

And that's, like... a huge understatement.

In fact, when Agent Hotchner came up to me in the break room and said he'd like me to do the job, I dropped my coffee and shattered a mug. I could tell he was a little impatient with me, even through his kind reassurances that it was quite all right as he helped me clean it up and waited for an answer.

In the end I'd said yes to the job, though the more I thought about it the more I wondered how much lust and naivete had clouded my judgement when I did.

Because there was absolutely no way I was going to be able to survive weeks, possibly months, as Spencer Reid's assistant. Not only because he was intimidatingly intelligent and there was almost nothing I could offer him in decent conversation, but also—and more prominently—the fact that I was pretty sure I was in love with him.

Maybe that was a stretch. I definitely had a stupid major crush on him that felt more like we were in middle school, but I could barely look at him without going warm all over. In fact, I think we had only ever made eye contact once and I averted my gaze immediately, afraid I'd give myself away. If I'd have held it any longer, I was positive I'd have burst into flames.

He'd tried talking to me once, a few months after I started working at the Bureau, and it was only to ask if I'd send some files over to their tech analyst, Penelope Garcia, but when I tried answering, I stumbled over my words and ended up only getting out a squeaked, "Uh huh," before taking the files from him and scurrying off.

I almost cried that day.

Basically every time I was in his presence, I was a total wreck. Even more so than I was on any other given day.

Being his assistant did get fairly easy pretty early on, though. I mostly just stayed out of his way while he worked, and if he need anything that he could've gotten himself if not for the injury, it was my job to get it for him. I worked on my own paperwork most of the time, and he was always busy working on geographical profiles and whatever else, we only ever really had to talk when he asked for something. And that only required a, "Sure," on my end, so I could just get up, get what he needed, and then go back to work.

Still, it didn't help that sometimes I'd get distracted.

He was very distracting.

I usually waited until I was sure he was so busy in work that I wouldn't get caught. And that's when I'd peek over my computer or hide behind a book and stare at him. I know that sounds creepier than it is, but if you had to spend almost every hour of the day with him, you'd have done the same. Even though for months he was put on rest from the field, he always showed up looking more like a college professor than an FBI agent. Which, I suppose suited him more anyway. Regardless, it was a damn fine look. His hair was decently long and extremely pretty, and when he got the cane?

I was a goner.

It was at that point, though, when I started to realize that he probably wouldn't need my help anymore. He'd been allowed back into the filed by then, and even when I went with them on cases it still felt like I was more out of place than usual. Sure, I'd picked up on some minor skills that aided in profiling and otherwise, but at the end of the day I was still only a desk clerk. Sooner or later, I knew there would be a time where Agent Hotchner would inevitably tell me that I'd done a good job and could return to my menial day job.

So, even though Dr. Reid and I had gotten into a pretty regular, non-awkward rhythm, I was being a little more squirrely than usual.

And of course, he noticed.

"Y/N, are you doing alright?" he asked, looking up from his stack of paperwork. That was another thing we'd ended up doing— late into the night after everyone had gone home, we stayed late in the conference room and quietly filled out paperwork.

I barely looked him in the eye when I answered. "O—Oh, mhm. I'm fine."

"Oh... You just seem... a little different today."

On any other day I would have freaked out on the inside like a teenager, excited that he'd noticed me at all enough to notice a difference in my behavior. But that was his job after all.

"Actually, you seem rather... sad."

I did look up at him this time, and the soft glow of the table lamp lit up his features— features that looked me over with concern. I could feel my face grow warmer with every second I looked at him, until I quickly looked back down at my paper and shook my head.

"N—No, I'm okay. Promise. Just a little tired, that's all."

Usually he would have left it at that, given we didn't ever really have longer conversations than that that didn't pertain to whatever case the BAU was working on. But he pushed further, and I swallowed.

"Are you sure? Because... You can tell me if there's something wrong. I'm a good listener..."

Did I dare tell him what was really plaguing me? That I was scared I wasn't going to be able to spend time with him every day, thus most likely giving away my crush? That is, if he hadn't already figured it out by this point... Truthfully it wouldn't have surprised me.

The thought made me go warm again, and still, I kept my head down.

"I'm sure..."

And then I did something I probably shouldn't have. I looked back up at him, just a quick glance, but under his intense gaze I crumbled, flitting my eyes back down and playing with my hands.

"Is it... because of me?"

Afraid suddenly that I'd made him feel bad, I straightened a little. "No! No, not at all I... Um... I—I guess I'm just... A little sad that I'm probably... not going to be of any help to you anymore. You know, now that you're healing up."

A small smile flashed over his face, and I inwardly melted.

"Oh... In that case I... I guess I'm sad, too."

"Really?" I asked softly, my heart jumping.

"Mhm," he answered back in earnest. His features were softer than they'd ever been, eyes wide and kind, smile inviting... "You've been a great help. And you're fun to be around."

I couldn't help but smile shyly at his confession, completely bewildered that he'd think of me as someone he'd enjoyed being around, though I'd offered just about nothing interesting to any conversation we'd had. "Y—You don't mean that..."

"I do."

"C'mon, really? I... I—mean... coming from you that's... that's too generous."

He laughed a little. "How do you mean?"

"I... Well, y—you're you... I mean, you're... smart, and nice, and cu— uh,... n—nice..." I stumbled hard on that last one, squeezing my eyes shut at the thought of almost calling him cute to his face... And then I realized I'd called him nice two times... in a row.

I hadn't even realized he'd gotten up and walked over to me until I felt his cane gently tap my leg. I jumped, looking up at him and almost crumbled again right then and there. He stood over me, tall and clearly amused, and I wanted to just curl up and hide where no one would ever find me.

I also didn't want to be craning my neck so far up to see him, so I stood up, sending my chair rolling back a foot or two. The added height was better, but he was still fiarly taller than me, and with the way were standing so close to each other?

Maybe I'd made a mistake...

"I—I'm sorry," I stammered.

Still amused, Spencer tilted his head a small amount. "What for?"

"I... I don't know, m—making this awkward?"

"It's not awkward."

"It... It's not?"

He shook his head, quiet for a few beats before he nearly whispered. "What were you going to say?"

I paused. "I... What?"

"Before... You said I was smart. And nice... And... What else?"

It sounded like he was trying to get me to confess something, and quite honestly I couldn't tell if it was for humiliation or amusement or clarification purposes. I mean, it was probably safe to assume he wouldn't go out of his way to humiliate me, but... it still made me nervous.

"I—I didn't... I..."

"Y/N... Tell me?"

I'd been cornered. Quite literally, too, as my lower back hit the edge of the table. My hands shook anxiously at my sides as I contemplated what to say. The truth? Embarrassing for me. A lie? I was no good at telling lies, and I'd still end up embarrassed, because he'd be able to tell.

So, after a very long silence in which he waited on me to answer, I blurted out, as quietly as possible, "Cute."

The word sounded juvenile coming from my mouth. Right now, standing under Dr. Reid's intense scrutiny, it didn't even feel like the right word to describe him. Not that it wasn't true... But it just wasn't an elegant enough descriptor for him.

And that alone probably proved just how different we were. How out of my league he was...

"That's what I thought you were going to say," he mused, slightly breaking me out of my self-deprecation.

I would have asked him something then, anything to keep myself from looking like even more of a fool with a childish schoolgirl crush, but all words escaped me entirely. All I could do was look up at him, slowly growing warm under the intensity of his eyes and praying he wouldn't think of me as silly.

Though, it wouldn't have mattered, because he kept talking anyway, his body taking up even more space around me as his arms came around to well and truly trap me against the table.

"You're right, you know... I'm almost completely healed, and pretty soon I think I won't need an assistant anymore."

I was scared that maybe I was wrong before, and he'd actually humiliate me now, though the look in his eyes suggested otherwise. I wasn't sure what to make of all of it. SO I just stood there, trying to breath steadily as Spencer studied my face.

"And I meant it... That makes me sad. You know why?"

I shook my head, afraid to make a sound.

His head dipped lower, close enough that I could feel his breath on my mouth as he spoke. "I probably won't get to see you every day."

"Y—you want to see me?" I couldn't help but ask.

He scanned my eyes, amusement and something else lingering there as he did. "Yes."

And then he kissed me.

It was a short distance, but it felt like we went far. And I hadn't even registered that I whimpered into his mouth until he returned it with a low groan that boiled my insides and absolutely melted me. I was helpless against him as he pressed himself further against me and used his hands to keep my back steady.

The whole time my mind was swimming with dizziness. It felt like my body was covered in butterflies from head to toe, particularly strong where his hands pressed into me and his cane rested firmly along the inside of my thigh.

I leaned forward when he pulled away, because I was afraid that he was saying goodbye. But one of his hands came up to my face and my eyes fluttered open, immediately taking notice of how messy his hair was now that I'd had my fingers in it.

I must have looked scared, because suddenly his eyes changed, and he removed his hands away from me altogether, putting distance in between us. "I—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you without asking..."

The relief that rushed through my body must have gotten to my head, because I breathed out a demand I'd never have had the courage to get out before.

"Do it again."

One second I was staring at him, admittedly afraid that he'd regretted all of it, and the next I was seeing stars as he came forward and kissed me again. His hands cradled my face as he did so, coming on to me with gentle care while still maintaining that hunger that surprised and excited me.

I hadn't realized how much I missed his touch until he'd given it back to me, my body once again melting into him and allowing him to do whatever it is that pleased him.

Apparently that was lifting my leg off the ground and making me sit on the table.

My body went along with it easily, and I was glad for it because my brain was nothing but mush, unable to process fully how he'd decided that I was worth kissing. All I really knew was that I wanted him. Anything he wanted from me, I was willing to give. And that must have come across very clearly, because when he pulled away and spoke to me, I whimpered at his words.

"Y/N... You've been such a good girl, helping me with whatever I needed these past few months..." Meanwhile his hand danced along the hem of my skirt, the tiny brushes of his skin against mine sending me into a mess of shivers.

"I think it's about time I've thanked you for all your help, don't you think?"

The implications in his tone made me whine again, and I pressed my forehead into his, our noses brushing as I answered. "Please."

I was so taken by the way he groaned as his lips connected with mine once more that I almost didn't realize that his hand was now fully up my skirt, his fingers drawing gentle lines over my panties and practically making me melt again. His hungry kisses contradicted the softness he took to my clothed cunt, a fact that warmed me to my core and made me want him more than ever.

When he slipped the fabric aside and ran the pad of his finger through me, I whined hard against his mouth, something that must have excited him— He nipped at my bottom lip and took a deep breath.

"How long have you wanted this, Princess?"

If not for the kissing and the finger slowly sliding up through my arousal, the nickname would have done me in. By now I was an utter wreck, but I somehow still managed to answer, even through a little stammering. "F—Forever."

It was the best I could come up with.

He breathed a laugh as his finger circled my clit. "That's a long time..."

"Uh huh," was all I could manage in response. My body and my brain were too focused on the things his finger was doing to my body, involuntarily rolling my hips forward for more. I needed more.

Thankfully he picked up on my urgency and reciprocated with slipping his middle finger inside me, one knuckle, then two...

I cried out as my head lurched forward, connecting our mouths once again. My hands clutched around his neck and my fingers tugged at his hair to keep myself from falling, because the slow, searing pace at which he fingered me made me wonder how I'd still been able to breathe.

He added another finger soon enough, picking up the pace and rendering me practically useless in his embrace. Meanwhile I registered the sound of his own little whines, still deeper than mine but little enough to tip me off that he was enjoying this just as much as I was, and that alone helped get me further along in pleasure.

I pulled my mouth from his reluctantly, squeezing my eyes shut as I allowed my forehead to rest against his. "D—Doctor, I'm c... I'm so close."

"His honorific falling breathlessly from my mouth seemed to do something sinister to him, because his fingers sped up and his breathing got heavier.

"Yeah? You gonna come for me, Princess?"

My stomach tightened and I nodded as best as I could, relishing in the sounds coming from below us, wet and downright filthy.

"Go ahead...Be a good girl and come for me... You deserve it..."

Each little sentence was punctuated with a slightly faster pace, each one bringing me closer and closer until I squeaked into his mouth and shook violently around his fingers, my vision going white. My legs had been open wide since he'd started teasing under my skirt, but now they threatened to clamp shut from the intensity. But I wanted nothing more than to be good for him, to make this as easy as possible, so I held out and kept them open as wide as I could stand as my orgasm rocked through me.

Spencer whispered praises into my skin as his hand slowed and his mouth trailed down to my neck. And even though it was more than nice feeling him lick and bite over my skin, I felt rather sad when he removed his fingers from me.

That sadness didn't last long though, not when he pulled back and studied me for a moment, eyes lust-blown and purely ravenous before he brought his glistening fingers up to my mouth.

I didn't even have to think. I brought my tongue out and let him slip his fingers over it, closing my mouth around them and sighing as I sucked them clean. This only seemed to excite him more, his features displaying all sorts of desperation until he couldn't take it anymore.

He kissed me again, bringing both his hands to rest at my waist. And with his hands so low I wondered if maybe he'd take to ridding himself of his own pants, but it never happened. Rather, he pulled away after minutes of more kissing, and sighed quite sadly as his upper body pressed firmly into mine.

Something else pressed firmly against me as well—right along the inside of my thigh—and I gasped, mind running wild through all the possible outcomes of the night.

But Spencer only stood there, occasionally nudging his nose against mine while his hands gently kneaded my sides.

"D—Do you want to stop?" I asked softly, afraid he'd regret what we did.

He proved me wrong. "God, no... It's... It's just that I'm still not cleared enough for any... strenuous activity on my leg, and I don't..."

I didn't want to push him, obviously, but I thought I could make the mood a little lighter. "O—Oh, well on the bright side... I could stay your assistant for a while longer."

The laugh that rumbled in his throat made me smile, though from the way he stood there, I knew he wouldn't risk it.

"Um... Raincheck?" he whispered.

On the one hand, that meant he definitely wanted to see me again, and I was more than happy with that. But also, that meant our fun for the night was done...

Yet... Maybe not...

"Sure," I answered, pecking his lips once more. Then I brought my hand to his chest and slid it down until I reached his belt, and I leaned back to look him in the eye, a boldness I never imagined coming from me in a million years.

"But I can still help you..."

I watched the desperation and disappointment in his features slowly dissolve into a newfound hunger—and an amusement—that grew my confidence tenfold.

"Oh?" Spencer mused. "How do you suppose you can help me this time?"

He wanted me to say it. So, without second guessing myself anymore, I grazed my finger over his erection. "I'm very good with my mouth, Dr. Reid."

He grabbed me by the hand then, dragging me along to the chair I'd kicked back before and sat himself down, one of his hands still gripping the cane. Matched with the desire in his eyes and the swollenness of his lips and the tousled strands of his hair, the sight was truly something to behold. It was something that only ever existed in my dreams, nd now it was real.

Not wanting to waste any time, I sunk to my knees and nestled myself in between his legs. He reached out and caressed my cheek before lifting my chin with his middle finger.

"You like being my good little helper?" he drawled.

I tried to nod, but he clicked his tongue and held my chin in place. "Words, Princess."

"Yes. I—I'd do anything you asked. Anything you want, it's yours..."

He hummed then, removing his hand from my face and moving to undo his belt swiftly with only one hand. The action, the sound, everything... it was enough to make me wet again, and I subtly ground down onto the heel of my foot as I watched him pull himself free from the confines of his pants.

I didn't have time to marvel at him before I was drawn forward like a magnet, my hands crawling up his legs and my eyes batting up at him, ready and eager to please him however he wanted.

"Eager, are we?" he mused once more, gently stroking himself with his hand.

"Yes, Doctor," I breathed, inching closer and kissing the outside of his hand.

His movement stopped then, and it didn't take longer than a second for him to decide to let me work on my own.

"Then have at it, Princess..."

I started by kissing my way up the length of him, taking my time to gauge his reactions as I did so, occasionally darting my tongue out to taste him. Once I reached the tip, I sucked on it gently, using my tongue to swirl around it until I could taste the saltiness of his precum.

And then I started taking him slowly into my mouth, watching above me as Spencer's eyes started to shut, obviously debating whether or not to lay back and enjoy this or watch me intently.

Either way, I was more than happy to keep it up, finally getting him to the back of my throat. I flexed my tongue and held him there as long as I could, promptly gagging over him and blinking tears from my eyes as he let out a loudest sound I'd heard from him yet. His head flew back and his tongue quivered along his bottom lip as he cursed my name.

The act made me proud, so I retreated for air, sucked at his tip again for a few seconds, and then repeated it, taking him down my throat again and watching through teary eyes as he visibly swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're so... Such a good fucking girl..."

The praise caused my insides to burn hot, and I ground down onto my heel again, lifting my mouth to start bobbing up and down.

His eyes opened then, and he looked down at me, using his hand to brush stray hair from my face and the other to grip onto his cane for dear life. I looked up at him the whole time, making sure to convey through not only my actions but also my eyes that I loved this. I thrived off of his praise, I enjoyed the feel of his dick gliding over my tongue and hitting the back of my throat, and I longed to feel him coat the inside of my mouth with his release.

I was so entirely into him in every capacity, it wasn't even funny.

I was so glad he could tell, a smile grazing his features as his hand gently gripped some of my hair. "So eager to please, Princess... And so fucking good at delivering..."

I whined onto his dick as he held me down, rendering me immobile. The only thing I could do was look up at him and choke, and of course, I was more than happy to do it. In turn, I was met with a deep groan and a tug of the hair.

"Hold it, hold it... Atta girl..."

My cunt throbbed at his words, and my throat continued to burn, tears falling down my face at ten-speed until finally, he let up and pulled me off of him.

I coughed a little and blinked away tears as I caught my breath, Spencer's fingers combing hair from my face as he smiled proudly.

He didn't even need to say anything then. I wanted to give him more. So I leaned down again and took him in my mouth, quickly making work of his tip while my hand came up and stroked the rest of him.

"Fuck, Princess, just like that... Make me come just like that..."

Rather than just continuing, I offered him a high whine and a wide gaze, hoping to exceed expectations.

I guess it worked, because he came right then, his dick pulsing over my tongue and in my hand as his warm release shot down my throat and over my tongue. I hummed around him, fluttering my eyes closed at the taste and the feeling, probably enjoying the fact that I'd done this to him more than I should have.

It was worth it to see the look on his face, though, after he'd given me all he had and I purposely spit some of it out onto the tip of his dick so I could lick it up and give him just a little more stimulation after the fact. His mouth hung open, eyes heavy and unwilling to leave me, even as I finished and sat back to wipe the tears and saliva from my face with a satisfied smile.

Though, the longer he looked at me, the more shy I became. Funny when I'd just had his dick down my throat, but I'd never been good with people staring at me for long periods of time.

"Was that... Was that okay?" I asked, suddenly worried I hadn't done something to his standards. "I know I don't do this a lot, so I'm sorry if it wasn't that g—"

"Y/N..."

I blinked up at him, still on my knees and unwilling to move. Not that I wanted to, but I couldn't even if I had.

"That was fucking perfect... I meant it, you're... so good."

I knew he was capable of better words, but after having the life sucked out of you, I could imagine 'better words' were hard to come by. Still, I laughed a little, playing with the hem of my skirt. "Good. I'm... glad I could help."

He smiled at me, readjusting his pants and then moving to help me off the ground.

"Hey, uh... Even when you go back to your regular job after I get better, I... I hope you know you're always welcome to come visit me if we're not busy."

The words warmed me in a different way, my heart swelling as well. "You... You mean that?"

Spencer nodded, grabbing my hand and dragging his thumb over my wrist. "Of course. I mean, you're more than just a good helper, you know. You're also kind, and smart, and cute..."

I laughed at his emphasis on cute, heat warming my face. "Ha-ha..."

"I really mean it, though," he said softly, removing his hand from mind and bringing it up to lift my chin, so I'd meet his eyes. They were swimming with sincerity, the epitome of warmth and comfort and kindness— the kind that always drew me to him in the first place. "And... If you'd want to maybe ditch the paperwork one day and grab a coffee or something, maybe—"

"Yes," I interrupted without thinking. My heartbeat picked up upon seeing the look in his eyes when I agreed, a mixture of amusement and relief. "Y—Yes, I'd love to."

"Good. Then it's a date?"

"Definitely."

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[straightupsickfics]

Your fics are my absolute favorite, I am in bliss of many kinds everytime u post. Can I please make a request for Ed being set off by a new colone or smth and Stede being fussy and protective about it?

ahhh thank you so much anon, this was such a nice message 🥺🥺 and such a good prompt for them!

some modern au ed + stede getting ready for an event with stede's colleagues <3

****

“Are you sure you want to come with me tonight, Ed, darling? It’s going to be an entire evening of tiny food and stuffed shirts and..” Stede trails off, picking an invisible piece of lint from his clearly pristine shirt. He looks perfect standing there in his light blue suit, ready for a night of mingling with his colleagues. His tie is perfectly done, his hair is gelled and pushes away from his face, and he’s wearing something that smells divine.

Stede sits on the board at Bonnet Industries, more of a figurehead than anything, these days, after taking over the company after his father died a few years ago. But, on nights like this, when BI holds its annual fundraising event for local charities, Stede always tries to make an appearance, despite how clearly anxious it makes him. 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Ed says, and he means it. His husband's coworkers and fellow board members might be a bunch of dicks, but that’s why he’s so set on going. He’s seen the way Stede looks when he gets back from these things alone, and it’s never pleasant. He always looks beaten down, exhausted all the way down to his bones, and if Ed being there could eliminate even a moment of that stress, well, it really isn’t a question of going or not.

“I would skip it if I could,” Stede says wistfully. “Wouldn’t look good, though.” He sighs. “Maybe we can sneak out early and get dinner afterwards, just us?” 

Stede sounds so hopeful about this that Ed can’t help but nod his head in agreement. He knows that Stede would be counting down the minutes until they could sneak out, until he’d shaken enough hands and made enough promises that he felt comfortable leaving. 

“‘Course,” Ed promises. “If nothing else you look fucking amazing.”

Stede flushes with pleasure at the compliment, looking down at his suit. “You think so? Not too much? People usually wear black or navy to these things, but those are so boring I just couldn’t bring myself to…” 

He’s one fret away from wringing his hands, and Ed has to step in. He straightens his own tie in the mirror, tucks a stray gray curl back into place, and crosses the room to take Stede’s hands in his, calming him. 

“Fuck them,” Ed says softly. He pulls Stede in close. “You look incredible, and y-you…” Ed stops, nose twitching, and turns to the side to sneeze. “Hh! Hdt’tsh! Sorry. Ed shakes his head as if to clear it. 

Stede kisses him, murmuring a soft bless you against his lips. Ed wants to pull Stede in as close as he can get him, kiss him, reassure him until that little stress wrinkle vanishes from his forehead. But before he can continue his little pep talk, Ed’s nose itches again, more persistent this time. 

“S-sorry, hh! Hang on…Huh’TSH! ii’ITSHH! HDt’tsssSH! Fuck me, what is happening?” Ed huffs, scrubbing a hand down his face. The whole thing itches all the sudden, so much so that he’s pretty sure he’s going to —

“HH’ushh! Hdssh-ehH!” His nose is running now, too, leaving Ed sniffling again and again trying to get the fucking thing under control. 

“God bless you,” Stede says, looking concerned now. “What’s getting to you all the sudden, hm?” He asks, moving closer to look at Ed’s teary eyes. As soon as he does, though, Ed gets another whiff of whatever cologne Stede has on for tonight, and he knows all at once what’s going on.

“Is that new— hh’HD’TSH! New cologne?” Ed asks, turning and heading back into the bathroom for a handful of tissues. His nose is running more urgently now, the ticklish feeling lodged somewhere deep in his sinuses, and he knows he’s going to be sneezing for a while at this rate. 

“Oh no,” Stede says, and that blasted frown line deepens all over again as he, too, realizes. “I got it because of the lavender notes,” he explains. “Thought you might like it.” 

Ed shakes his head. “I love it,” he admits. “Though I don’t think i-iih! Snf! Don’t think it…likesmeback,” he says in a rush, then sneezes four times in quick succession. He’s hardly able to get a breath in between them they come on so fast and strong, his nose eager to rid itself of the irritant. 

"huhhH-! Eh’SCHHuhww! hh’Ushh! Eii’ISHH! EH’huhTSHH!” Ed feels a little breathless when he’s done, blowing his nose into the ruined tissues in his hand before Stede holds out the box for him to grab fresh ones. 

“Darling, I’m so sorry,” Stede says, retreating to the other side of the room. “I can shower it off, we’ll be fashionably late.” 

Ed wants to argue. He knows that showing up late will make Stede worry more about what people will think, but it’s not like he can go anywhere in this state. Hell, he can barely get through a sentence without… without—

“hh’dSHHH! Fuck, I’m sorry,” Ed says. His eyes are tearing up with allergic irritation now, too, and he rubs his face again, trying to regain some semblance of control. Some of his hair had slipped free of his bun during the fit, and he tucks it back behind his ears to deal with later. 

“It’s not your fault,” Stede promises. “This means less time spent with those sticks in the mud, anyway,” he declares, giving Ed a smile. “You just stay there, and I’ll be right back, alright?” 

Ed inhales carefully, his nose under control for the time being. “You’re sure?” 

“Very much so,” Stede says. “Can’t have my handsome husband unable to escort me to the ball,” he adds. “Back in a flash.” 

Stede leaves him with a smile and an air kiss, though Ed’s pretty sure Stede can hear him sneezing even as the shower water runs, washing him clean of his lovely lavender scent.

[hockeywhy]

4 times you faked a relationship + 1 time you didn’t; m.tkachuk

WARNINGS: language. WORD COUNT: 17.2k. A/N: So, I didn’t want my effort for this fic to go to waste and I’ve decided to re-write it for Matty because he and the fake dating trope work so well together. I had to, so here it is.

one.

“I’d only be asking Matthew if I had no other options and needed a last resort,” you said. “Until then, I’m not even contemplating it.” 

“Kind of sounds like you’ve just about reached the bottom of your list, right around where you’re keeping Matthew, Y/N,” your friend, Anna, responded and though her tone said sympathy, the look on her face reflected anything but sheer elation. 

The invitation landed on your tabletop with a loud slap while you deposited yourself in a nearby chair unceremoniously, glaring at the decorative paper as if it offended you. Actually, scratch that. It did offend you. Greatly so. Honestly, it may as well have come in the form of one of those boxing gloves that sprung out of a box immediately upon opening and decked you square in the face. That’s how much it offended you. 

The golden letters inked on the thick paper warmly requested the pleasure of your company to witness the love of Josh Reynolds to Louise Jones six weeks from now. The location stated was a hotel you knew only through word of mouth: one of those fancy establishments that served ridiculously priced plates that were more canapes than actual meals. 

You doubted there would be much pleasure from your company.

You and Josh called it quits just over a year ago after a relationship that became increasing rockier, significantly more emotionally exhausting. The two of you started dating in high school and if the relationship started off with nothing but the sort of blinding fiery passion only teens could be capable of, well someone missed the memo on giving you the message that all fires eventually fizzle out. Gradually, it was the only way you could see your relationship heading and it seemed that Josh felt it too. It made the breakup easier: it was neat and mutual. Still, that couldn’t be considered an incentive for either of you to invite each other to such grand, deeply personal events. You couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that he found someone he wanted to tie the knot with so quickly but in retrospect, Josh had always wanted that while you were content as you were. That seemed to be the fork in your road with him.

On the one hand, you were angry at Josh for even considering jotting your name down on the list of attendees and on the other, you were angry at yourself for being angry about that. One moment you were dead set on declining the invite and the next, you considering that doing that would simply show you were bitter and unable to be civil about it. Besides, surely it was noted somewhere in the Rulebook of Ex’s that you just couldn’t do stuff like that. That seemed to just about do it. Like hell you’d given anyone the satisfaction of one-upping you.

You needed a plus one. Desperately. 

“Ask your brother then. Pretty sure that’s bound to impress anyone there. It’s not often many will get to say they brushed shoulders with an up-and-coming professional athlete.” 

“I don’t need that sort of plus one. If I did, I would’ve asked you—”

“Thanks,” Anna mumbled.”

“—but what I need,” you ploughed on ahead, “is, well, something that can come off a bit more serious looking.”

She rolled her eyes. “Saying the word boyfriend won’t jinx you into permanent silence, you know. You need a boyfriend.”

“A boyfriend for a day,” you agreed contemplatively. 

She picked up the invitation to look through it carefully and after concluding her inspection, she slapped the papers back down on the table, grinning. “Matthew it will be then!” 

Your younger brother, Jake, recently signed his entry-level contract with the Calgary Flames, in a way carrying forward the family tradition of starting a career in professional sports with them. Your grandfather did, your father did and now, here you were watching your little brother take on the mantle. Your family’s involvement in sport and, specifically, the team meant that you were somewhat familiar with the organization whether that meant attending home games or a few events arranged by the team. You couldn’t say you were the best of friends with them, certainly nowhere near the level your brother was, but generally speaking you were fond of the C of Red. 

That couldn’t also be said about Matthew, however.

It seemed that from the get-go, there was a personality clash between you. At first, you thought it was just Matthew picking on you, joking around as he disagreed with virtually anything you’d say but progressively, you were pretty sure the two of you didn’t even have the compatibility to keep things civil. Matthew had a way with pushing your buttons and it bothered you he could do that with so much ease, though the more you thought of it, the more it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you: you were all too familiar with his on-ice shenanigans, after all. Whenever you knew you had to be under the same roof as him, you’d tell yourself to not let him get under your skin but that resolve would last for all of ten minutes. Fifteen if you had a particularly good day. 

Much to your chagrin, it seemed your brother was closest to Matthew. Though you offered the spare room in your apartment, your brother was so warmly welcomed by Matthew. It was no doubt even Jake found your annoyance with his teammate entertaining.

The thought alone was frustrating enough. If one day, by chance, you caught sight of a white strand of hair on your head, you were dead set on blaming Matthew for it. Matthew and his smarmy attitude; Matthew and his smartass retorts; Matthew and the smirks he threw your way whenever your brother took his side, outnumbering you. 

You clenched your teeth, glaring at the invite. From the corner of your eye, you saw Anna’s outstretched hand holding your phone out to you. A groan formed in your throat and you wished you kept in contact with the handful of guys you tried dating after Josh. None really stayed. Or better said, none managed to draw you in. It was as if Josh had put a jinx on you. If that was the case, you hoped that this whammy would disappear if it meant watching him watch someone else walk down the aisle towards him. 

Anna waved the device at you insistently. “Do it. Come on. Even you know nothing says fuck you like turning up there with Matthew. Scrappy when he wants to be and he’s not bad to look at either. You know it.” 

You arched an eyebrow up at her. “More than Johnny?” 

She flushed visibly. Johnny and Anna were still a relatively new thing, dancing around their relationship carefully as if they were both doing this rodeo for the first time. It was pretty cute. “Don’t change the subject.” She placed the device down on the table in front of you then patted your shoulder. “I have a feeling you won’t regret it. If he gets on your nerves too much, well…it can’t be worse than watching your ex get married, right?” 

“Ouch,” you winced, but chuckled, knowing you were defeated. Matthew was the last resort, and you knew you were at the bottom of your list before you even started going through it. “You do realize if he declines, I’ll probably make a start on packing my bags and moving to Montana, right? The only time you’ll hear from me is when my handwritten letter goes through the nine circles of hell that is our postal service.” 

Anna fixed you with a stare that could only read as ‘do it’. “I wouldn’t be so insistent on this if I knew Matthew would say no. I have a feeling he’ll surprise you.” 

With a heavy sigh, you unlocked your phone and scrolled through your list of contacts, thumb hovering over his name when it came up. Anna wasn’t wrong: Matthew wasn’t bad to look at all, that much you could admit. But god, if he turned you down…. you knew you wouldn’t be able to ever show your face in front of him or the rest of the team ever again. 

“I think I’ve had enough surprises from him to last a lifetime,” you mumbled but tapped the call symbol anyway.

He answered on the third ring. “Hel—

You didn’t let him finish. “I need your help,” you ground out, eyes closing while you rubbed at your forehead with the tips of your fingers. 

There was silence on the other end of the line that had you biting your lip in anxiousness. You shouldn’t have done this. You really shouldn’t have done this. All it would take would be just hitting the ‘resume my account’ link on one of the dating apps you signed up for a while ago. Someone was bound to be attracted not only to you but the promise of an open bar—

“Music to my ears,” Matthew’s response came through. You could practically hear the smile in his voice and knew you’d regret it; you could easily tell from the tone of his voice. 

You sighed quietly, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the table, eyes glued to the invitation. Fuck it, you could get someone else; easily, no doubt. The world of online dating was vast and there would always be takers.

“Uh, yeah actually, never mind—”

“No, no. Come on, Y/N. Pretty sure this is the first time you’re calling me first so can we take a moment to just let that sink in?” Silence again, then a chuckle. “Okay, now that we did. How can I help you?” 

It wasn’t as if Josh had put you in the position to ask Matthew for a favor but still: fuck Josh, anyway. In a split second of sheer pettiness, you considered aiming to host the most extravagant, unforgettable weddings when your turn would come just to show him who does it better. 

“Are you free the third weekend in June?” you asked tiredly. 

“Don’t know. Depends what for and who you’re asking for.” 

You should’ve asked him face-to-face. At least then, he would’ve had the chance to see you roll your eyes, turn on your heel and walk away. “I’m obviously asking for myself. Could you just be straightforward for once and answer yes or no? You’re making me hold the line for longer than I anticipated and I’m happy to ask someone else,” you lied.

“Let me get this right—” Here comes, you thought exhausted. “You’re calling me for the first time since you have my number to ask me if I’m free the third weekend in June? As a favor for yourself.” 

“Matthew, I didn’t stutter—”

“What’s happening in June?”

You don’t know what it was about his words that downed you. It was nothing but a simple question yet the only thing you could think of was: the first boy I’ve dated and so far, the only one, seems to have moved on quicker than I anticipated and while I’m still trying to build myself back up, I’m sitting in my kitchen looking at a wedding invitation and wallowing in self-pity because regardless of how hard I try, of how much I’ve amended my standards, no one seems to do it so what if this is it for me? What if this is just the way it’ll be from now on? And now, I’m resorting to lying just to make myself feel better but also put a façade in front of someone who I know no longer cares about me like that. And really, nor do I about him but here we are. So, nothing much is happening in June, Matthew. Hopefully we get a lot more sunshine though!

What you responded with instead was, “just an old friend of mine getting married and I need a plus one. Nothing serious. Just go there for an hour or two, say some hellos and leave. It’s a quick in-and-out thing.” 

More silence on the other end of the line other than the muffled shuffle of what sounded like bedsheets. “Why not ask your brother then?” 

“Asked him already, said he’s got something lined up already. So, are you free or not?” you lied, quickly pressing on even if you knew that sounded a lot like desperation.

“For you, at a price.” He was smirking. You knew he was and more than ever, you wished 2021 was the year you could just reach through the phone and shake the person on the other end. 

“Uh-huh. Right. No, just forget it. Forget I even—”

You were going to end the call when Matthew laughed, quickly calling out a “no, no! Nothing weird, I promise. Just owe me a favor in return, is all.” 

“Do I get a choice?” you mumbled, more to yourself than towards him.

“I think we both know that you don’t. Text me the time and place,” he instructed and then, just as you were really about to end the call, he added, “hey, send me a photo of what you’re wearing also. I’ll match my tie to your dress, free of charge.” 

“Can you maybe ditch the jacket while you’re at it? Just want to make sure your tie’s within reach so I can strangle you with it.”

Even after you cut the call, Matthew’s laughter rang in your ears. 

-

Matthew matched his tie to your red dress. The color of the silk around his neck was so striking, you would swear it was made from the same material as your outfit. You sent him a photo of the material of the dress, more as a joke than having any expectations attached to it so you were pleasantly surprised to see he made the effort. For a moment, you allowed yourself to bask in sheer joy knowing that to any eye, the two of you could easily pass as a couple. At least, from looks alone if not from attitude. You were a proud person; fiercely so. Knowing you were now in debt to Matthew however he saw fit dealt a pretty impressive blow to your ego. You don’t let yourself linger too much on that thought, though. It was already difficult enough to loosen up and relax your stance as you climbed into Matthew’s car as soon as he texted you of his arrival. 

“You look good,” he commented after you fixed the seatbelt on. He turned in his seat as much as space would allow so he could look at you properly and in return, you arched an eyebrow, refusing to give way to his stare. “Are you trying to one-up the bride?” 

“Ha, ha. Funny. You didn’t even see the bride. I didn’t even see the bride.” 

“Didn’t see her but I’m seeing you, so,” he shrugged, by way of explanation before correcting his position. 

If asked, you wouldn’t deny that Matthew also looked good. Very good. But only if asked. It was impossible that someone with a face like that didn’t know they turned heads easily wherever they went. Matthew’s suit fit him as if it was sown on him. If the two of you had a better relationship, you would even dare ask him what it was he was putting in that hair of his that made it so shiny and gave those curls so much definition, taming them almost perfectly when he really put his mind to it. Whatever it was, you had a feeling he didn’t strain as much as you had earlier that morning to tame your hair and though you could give yourself credit for how well it turned out, your arms weren’t thanking you for it. 

Thankfully, much of the drive was pleasant. Though you hated small talk, you decided to make an effort if only to ease your nerves as the navigation system indicated you were drawing closer and closer to that glitzy hotel. You learned that although the season was over, Matthew, Brady and the rest of the family would spend a few weeks in Canada before heading back home to St. Louis. In turn, you told him that some of the days off you booked from work would be spent somewhere just as sunny and warm but with more beaches. It was safe ground. That, you could do although progressively, you were becoming more and more distracted, and less focused on the conversation the two of you managed to keep. 

“Want me to pull over?” Matthew asked suddenly. 

“What,” you mumbled, turning your attention from the road ahead to Matthew who seemed amused by the situation. “Why would I want you to do that?” 

“I’d want you to do that. You look pretty pale and honestly, I’ve just had the interior cleaned so—”

“Fuck you, Tkachuk, keep driving. I’m just a little…cold. How high do you have the AC on?” 

He fixed you with a stare while waiting for the lights ahead to turn green, eyebrow arched. “It’s June, Y/N, and uncomfortably warm. If it makes you feel better, though, I could turn it off and we can roll down the windows instead?”

“No, sorry—you’re right. It’s fine. Just leave the AC as it is.” 

The laugh he gave was nothing short of incredulous. “Repeat that back for me. Actually—hold on, do that when I can press record on my phone so I can have that on repeat. Did you admit I’m right?” 

“God, you’re making me regret inviting you,” you muttered though without heat. 

An uncomfortable silence slipped between the two of you or maybe, it was just your perspective on it. Matthew seemed perfectly at ease minding the road, only occasionally throwing a cursory glance towards the car’s navigation system whenever it announced a turn. Doing this seemed more and more like a bad idea. A terrible one. No one would’ve held it against you if you denied the invitation. In fact, you thought that was more expected than accepting it and turning up to the party as if you were seeing an old friend, not an ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t too late though. Matthew could still turn the car around. 

“Listen, Matt—”

“You have now reached your destination. Your destination is on the right.”

You released a breath you weren’t even aware of holding, then threw a quick look towards the main entrance of the hotel. Already, a few guests whom you recognized were crossing into the lobby.

“You really don’t look okay at all,” Matthew repeated and there was less humor in his voice and more concern this time around. Even you weren’t ignorant to how much your mood kept fluctuating over the course of the drive: often, engaged in conversation but occasionally, withdrawn, barely just catching on to whatever it was Matthew was saying. Sure, he probably didn’t know you well enough to read you, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out something was amiss. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I felt like there’s more to this thing than you’re telling me. You could’ve asked your brother, yet you didn’t—” 

Damn it. You made him swear to play along. You made a quick mental note to get back at him about it whenever you felt energized enough to do so.

“Matthew,” you said, your voice suddenly clear, tone neutral. You didn’t dare look him in the eyes so instead, you kept your stare fixed on the revolving doors ahead. “I’m only going to say this once and I hope that you won’t make me repeat it now or ever again. I’d prefer that you don’t mention it to anyone either. The person getting married today is my ex-boyfriend. Up until last year, we’ve been together since we were teenagers. I loved him. Since we broke up, I kept trying to look for parts of him in others, but I couldn’t find even a trace of who he was. I feel as I’ve been jinxed, and I felt that maybe if I come today, maybe if I see him with someone else, I can confidently say I’m fine with that. It hurt my pride when I received the invitation, so my first thought was to lie. If, for just a few hours, I can pretend I’ve also moved on and I’m not stuck in this…fucking weird limbo, then maybe it becomes true. A fucked up self-prophecy. So.” You pause, clearing your throat. Your mouth suddenly felt dry from your speech, yet you couldn’t feel a pang of regret in your chest or heat behind your eyes. “So. If you want out, that’s fine. After all, I’m asking you to pretend to be my date out of spite, I guess. And embarrassment. It’s childish and unfair and ridiculous but—”

You came to a halt when you felt a finger under your chin, and a gentle upward push forced you to raise your head up a little more. When you turned towards Matthew, you looked at him with a look of confusion on your face. 

“Keep your head up. We have a wedding to go to.” 

His encouragement sunk in faster than expected and as your expression relaxed, a smile formed on your face. 

Yeah. The two of you had a wedding to go to. 

-

The event hall was decorated minimally yet tastefully. It made everything seem even more personal and you received that impression from every detail: from the flower arrangements to the music, everything was a testament to a life united by love. Maybe your emotional outburst earlier accounted for it, but you felt lighter even as you watched the newlyweds glide along the floor for their first dance. Sure, you felt a desperate pang of want but it was distant. Muffled. 

Despite your initial thoughts, having Matthew at your side felt very much like a safety cushion. It surprised you to watch him settle into his role with so much ease that eventually, even you didn’t have to remind yourself to not withdraw whenever his arm wrapped around your waist: sometimes loosely, sometimes a little tighter, reeling you in closer.

Fish, here is your bait, you thought wildly as you stood tucked at his side while he accepted flatteries from one of the guests who swore had been a fan of the Calgary Flames since before he could even talk.

“You must be so proud,” the man turned towards you. “Your family’s truly one of a kind to have all played for the team and now—” He gestures towards Matthew as if to say all of this. “Must be something about those Flames!” 

You laughed tightly, just as Matthew squeezed your side. By that move alone, you could tell he was eating this up. 

“Yeah, just can’t get enough of them,” you concluded, pitching your voice just a little higher towards the end. To the man, it was as genuine as could be, but Matthew cautioned you silently with the slightest narrowing of his eyes, effectively warning you to be more realistic. “Hey, I’ll get us some refills? Try to be a little more inconspicuous in the meantime. Remember this isn’t your day,” you joked. 

“Only practicing for when our turn comes,” Matthew responded without missing a beat and released the hold he had on you. 

Once at the bar, you allowed yourself some extra moments to catch your breath. Even off ice, Matthew was a force to be reckoned with. He struck conversation with others easily, drew their attention with seemingly little effort and easily set the mood for whatever situation or person the two of you would run into. A part of you thought his profession had a lot to do with his mannerism, but a bigger part knew different:  mostly, it was really just Matthew. 

He had a way with words and with people that you haven’t been witness to before and couldn’t help but wonder if it was all show. He was, after all, a face for the public: familiar with interviews, familiar with the attention, apparently not overwhelmed even by less conventional questions. Watching him play this role was fascinating to say the least. It certainly took your mind off the circumstances so credit where credit was due. 

“Hey, it’s good to see you here.” 

You turned from the bar and came face to face with Josh. His jacket was off, and his sleeves were neatly rolled up past his elbows; behind the knot of his tie, you could see he’d undone the top button of the collar. You’d seen him make countless rounds across the entire floor, greeting guests and ensuring everything was running smoothly. Occasionally, you watched him dance either with his wife, or family members, or even guests you recognized as work colleagues. 

You smiled. “Thanks for the invite. It was a bit weird to receive it, I can’t lie about that, but I’m glad you sent it.” It surprised you to learn you weren’t even lying about that. Through the course of the evening, it dawned on you that maybe, it was more the thought of being here that made you anxious; the event itself, however, proved just how right you were. It felt…fine. You felt fine. 

“Yeah—uh, I wasn’t… I wasn’t really sure but, well, before…” He trailed off into a sigh. 

You chuckled softly. “Would you like to buy a vowel?” 

That made him laugh. Truly, genuinely laugh. “Sorry. I guess it’s a bit weird for me also. But, well, before you and I were, well, you-and-I, we were friends. I would’ve hoped we’d still be friends even after…” He waved a hand in the air by way of explanation but that was sufficient for you.

“Won’t hurt to be friends. Whatever happened between us—well. Thing of the past. Build bridges and get over them, right?” 

“Right. Function of a bridge and all.”

“Hey. Congratulations, by the way! I’m happy for you. Really. I wish the two of you all the best. She seems really great.” 

“She is,” he agreed and cast a glance towards the room, eyes undoubtedly searching for her. “Are you—”

“Here you are.” 

Saved by the bell. A weight fell around your waist that, by now, was warm and familiar. Unconsciously, you leaned into Matthew, flashing a wide smile at Josh. At first, he seemed surprised by the sudden appearance but then his features settled into something more comfortable; something so much like relief that for a moment, you wished you could just come clean about it. You and Matthew were less than meets the eye.

Before you could even introduce them, a kiss was pressed to your cheek, knocking all air from your lungs and almost making you choke because of it.

What the hell.

“You were gone for some time, so I thought to check on you,” Matthew informed you, all matter of fact. To Josh, he said, “congratulations on the wedding. Must be pretty great to finally get to this point. You two look great together.” 

“Oh? Yeah. Yeah, thanks man. So glad you could come along today.” Josh turned to you, an eyebrow perked in interest. “I didn’t know you two were together.” 

“Oh we’re just—” 

You began but were promptly interrupted by Matthew. “We like to keep it lowkey. It hasn’t been that long for us but that’s not much of a problem when your gut tells you this is it. You know it well, right?”  

You were entirely caught off guard. Instead of responding immediately, you bought yourself some time by taking a sip from your glass of—whatever it was. Strong though. Just perfect for the situation you suddenly found yourself in: ex-boyfriend ahead, fake boyfriend to the side, promising sweet nothings that you knew would come back to haunt you at some ungodly hour. You wished you could step on his shoe; pull on those shiny curls of his real quick, knock some sense back into him. There was a difference between play a role well and clearly, playing it too well.

Matthew pushed ahead. “It’s pretty good timing for us though. We could take some notes for when our turn comes, right babe?” 

“I’ll let the two of you to it, then. Thanks again for coming.” Josh made a move to step away but before he did, he turned to you and caught your eyes. “I’m really happy for you, Y/N. You look good together. Just make sure you don’t take too many notes.”

“Wouldn’t dream to,” Matthew responded, and you could read the slight bite in his words. When Josh was out of earshot, he looked down at you. “You dated him? Just him?” 

“Hey, what’d I say about not bringing that up again? And save your dick measuring contests for the locker room, Tkachuk. Now’s not the time nor place.” 

“Now’s definitely the time and place,” he countered, making you roll your eyes but there was a smile on your face you couldn’t quite wipe off. “Come on. Let’s continue taking leaves out of their book.” In one swift motion, he took the glass from your hand and set it on the bar while above, the LED lights dimmed, and the playlist switched to a slower song. 

You threw him a cautious look, easily reading where that was going. “I’m not dancing.”

“Sure, you are. You want to give the impression of being happily in love? You need to start pulling your weight in this thing.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Atlas. Do your shoulders hurt from carrying the burden of our relationship?” you mocked, yet still allowed him to lead you towards the dance floor. Right in the center of it given the bride and groom appeared to sit this one out; you expected nothing less from him. You weren’t even surprised when he made an entire show out of it, forcing you to do a pirouette when the two of you claimed your spot. 

“You can’t even imagine the pain you put me through,” he sighed near your ear as the two of you began swaying to the music. 

“Well, you’re still standing so clearly it can’t be that bad.” 

“Baby, it’s torture.” 

You were grateful the two of you weren’t exactly face to face or you were sure Matthew would never have let you live down the flush you felt rising to your cheeks. Sure, he didn’t use the pet name in a genuine manner, but just hearing it roll off his tongue like that… You stopped that thought before it grew into a whole new different monster. 

After a few moments of silence passed, Matthew lowered his head closer to yours, his warm breath colliding with the skin on your throat. “Do you think now’s the right time to kiss? Are enough people watching?” 

You stepped on his foot. Not hard, but just with the right amount of pressure to draw a wince from him. Satisfied, you leaned back just a little to look at him properly. “Don’t even think about it, Tkachuk—”

“Thought about it already.”

Through clenched teeth, you hissed, “you. Are. Incorrigible.” 

He raised his eyebrows, surprised. “If only you could meet yourself.” 

You snickered quietly then leaned back against him. “Thanks for doing this. I know it’s not the most convenient of things… and it wasn’t fair to tell you the full truth of it right on the day of. But—well, thanks.”

“That sounds like it was pretty difficult to let out. It’s very…. heartfelt.” 

“Just fucking accept it as I gave it to you, Tkachuk,” you complained, more amused than annoyed.

More silence followed, filled in only by the general buzz of the room and the slow melody. “And now?” Matthew questioned a short while later. You allowed an extended silence to fill in for your confusion. He picked up on it within seconds. “Do you still feel jinxed? Stuck in the same place while he goes on ahead in life?” 

You took some time to think through your answer, time during which the song faded into yet another slow one. Matthew didn’t give an indication of wanting to move away from the dancefloor, so you saw no purpose in you doing that. 

“Not really,” you concluded. “Just seems like we’re both following different trajectories. Doesn’t mean I’m left behind if I’ve not yet met someone to settle down with like he did. Maybe I just need to be here to come to terms with it. Good for him though. I’m genuinely happy for him and his wife. I think lots of people imagine going through this very same moment.” You ended with a shrug but then, to lighten up the moment, you added, “don’t mock me for it. Between the two of us, I’m the one with the pointy shoes.” 

Matthew laughed, a low, pleasant laugh right by your ear. “I’ll give you a free pass for what’s left of today.” 

“Your generosity astounds me. Please could you also sign my jersey?” 

“Is it my jersey?” 

“Why would it be your jersey when I have my last name printed out on one at the expense of my brother being roughed up a little?” 

“Don’t tempt me. That favor you now owe me? I might just use it to have you get my jersey so I can sign it since you so generously asked.” 

“Your call,” you shrugged. “Just know it’s going straight in the wash right after you scribble on it.” 

Matthew took a few small steps back, only to pull you back towards him. You played along and spun as you landed into his hold once again.

“You say that now, but when you’ll see yourself with it—”

“I’ll auction it on eBay.” 

The laugh you got out of Matthew stayed with you through the rest of the night and like never before, his good disposition easily transferred to you.

two.

When the elevator doors slid open, your brother and Johnny weren’t the only ones to step into the hotel lobby. Matthew accompanied them, flashing a smug smile as the trio approached and his eyes landed on you. You cast a quizzical glance from your brother, to Johnny, to Matthew and then looked towards Anna as if to ask are you seeing this? She only shrugged at you in silent response, though she was grinning from ear to ear. At least someone was certainly enjoying this.

“Last I remember, there were only two of you,” you commented.

“Was that before or after your third drink?” your brother chirped back.

Instead of humoring him, you shift your gaze to Matthew. “What gives, Tkachuk? Can’t be left at home unsupervised during family vacations?” 

“My house training has only gone so far,” he responded smartly, then nodded his head towards Anna and Johnny who were caught in a half-hug, apparently entertaining by watching you and Matthew bicker as if watching a tennis match. “They’re not family.” 

Anna feigned a gasp on your behalf. “Y/N and I are part and parcel, Matt. Thought you’d know that by now.” 

“Well, the three of us are part and parcel also, Anna. Thought you’d definitely know that by now,” he responded but you were already leading the way out of the hotel lobby and towards the busy square outside.

It was a hub of activity: from street vendors to dance and music performers, there was something to see regardless of which way you looked. Although you arrived at your holiday destination the previous day, the flight south coupled with the warm, sticky evening made you want to steer away from the busier parts of the town. Instead, you opted to lounge by the pool with Anna, having perhaps one too many cocktails to kickstart your vacation. Perhaps you missed Matthew’s arrival at some point then, though for the life of you, you couldn’t remember anyone mentioning he’d come along also. Not that it bothered you greatly.

Since the time you asked him to be your plus one some few weeks ago, the relationship between the two of you warmed slightly. Sure, he still knew which buttons to press to get a reaction out of you, but you saw it as being less ill-intended and more good-natured fun. You kept up with him easily and whenever it felt as if he was cornering you, you conceded with a roll of your eyes but never admitted defeat. You didn’t consider the two of you friends, but something changed on the day of the wedding right around the time you had spilled out your feelings about the entire deal to him. Looking back on it, you found it strange just how easily you did that, no second thoughts, no wishing for takebacks. You knew you owed him the truth given the position you put him in without plenty of heads-up, but you could’ve easily just simplified the entire thing. 

It wasn’t difficult to stick together as a group but eventually, you wandered off towards a few stalls on your own that have caught your eye. Though you wanted some more time to have Anna to yourself, it was technically her first vacation with Johnny. You could catch up with her later in the room; surely, she’d have even more swooning to do over him by then. Not that you blamed her. Johnny was an incredible guy. 

First, you stopped at a stall selling a range of baked goods that you simply couldn’t turn away from. And for good reason: the sour cherry churro you settled for was a dream come true. From there, you strolled towards a few small stores selling a range of products ranging from colorful graphic tees to earrings made from vibrant, colorful gemstones. You held a blue pair next to your ear, turning one way then another to watch as the light reflected off the gleaming gem. 

“Those suit your complexion,” the attendant commented and when you looked towards him, he smiled bashfully. 

A gentle heat crept up your neck, unable to keep the grin off your face but you couldn’t look away from him: his skin was lightly tanned, and a dusting of freckles covered the bridge of his nose and upper cheeks. His blond hair was messy in a way you could easily tell was styled to appear as such. He was cute in a sort of conventional way, but you liked the way he smiled at you, all shy but certainly genuine.

“Funny you say that. I always had a feeling blue was my color,” you responded, and his smile widened. 

“Here for vacation?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, I just got here yesterday, and I’ll be around for a few days,” you added, a little hopeful. 

Hey, if you could score some good company while in the area, then you weren’t going to turn down the opportunity to flirt a little and make good with someone more local.

“Good. That’s really good to know.” He regarded you for a moment and you were certain that caused your blush to deepen though at the same time, it made you feel a little…exposed. “Hey, are you free—”

“The red ones are nicer.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, frustration quickly replacing the feeling of near euphoria. You could recognize that voice anywhere. Of all times he could have run into you, the universe fixed it so he popped up when you least needed that to happen. 

“I prefer the blue,” you countered, then held them up against your ear again though you knew you didn’t need to double check if they suited you. 

“No, trust me with the red,” Matthew insisted, and you saw him appear behind you in the small circular mirror you were looking into. He was so close. “Goes well with that little number I got you the other day.” 

You sputtered. “W-what?! Stop messing—”

In the mirror Matthew’s eyes flicked from you to the attendant. “Yeah, you know the one. I left the box on the bed in our room, thought to surprise—”

“Tkachuk, just shut up. There isn’t an our room—”

This was so painfully uncomfortable. So frustratingly annoying, you felt the blood warm in your veins, that familiar wave of anger coursing through your body.

“I’ll ring those up for you,” the attendant said, his voice carefully polite while he accepted the red earrings from Matthew’s outstretched hand. 

You hated him. Passionately hated him. It was easy for Matthew to play games like those because he could easily get just about anyone, but you? It wasn’t quite as easy to not be a pro-athlete who had pretty much everything lined up and going for them. You tried catching the store attendant’s eyes again but he was busy accepting the cash from Matthew after packing away the earrings in a small paper bag. You knew he wouldn’t catch sight of it, but it didn’t stop you from casting a longing, apologetic glance towards him before leaving the store. 

It felt as if for every two steps you took, Matthew only needed one and despite the crowds, he caught up with you easily, holding out the bag towards you while you powered ahead. 

“Come on, don’t be mad. The red ones are definitely better than the blue ones,” Matthew tried to reason with you while holding the hand stretched out to you, insistent on his offer. When you didn’t respond and instead, tried to rush further ahead, Matthew pressed on. Him managing to keep up with your pace only added fuel to the fire. “Don’t tell me you’re upset over Ron Jon back there.” 

You came to a halt, turning to glare up at him. “I am, Matthew. You didn’t need to do what you did back there. There was no reason for it. It was shitty of you, and I need you to back off while I try to enjoy the rest of my night.” You clenched your jaw, trying to suppress the overwhelming feeling of anger that normally resulted in tears. “You could at least pretend to be sorry about it.” 

With that, you turned on your heel and squeezed your way through the crowds, ignoring Matthew’s calls to stop and come back and that he was only joking. 

Too late for that, you thought bitterly, making a turn towards a street popular for its dining and bar venues. 

-

The part of the archipelago more popular with tourists was truly a sight to behold as the sun went down, coloring the sky in some of the warmest, most calming shades of orange, red and yellow you ever saw. It seemed as if everyone gathered on the promenade, phones at the ready while taking photos of the sky, selfies and group shots. Even you couldn’t resist it and after taking a few well-centered selfies, a passing couple offered to take your photo which you immediately posed for. 

Later, once the sight sunk in, you moved towards a nearby bar, first attracted by the pink, purple and blue neon lights and then, the music. A good cocktail, good music and a gorgeous sunset were all it took for you to feel more relaxed, leaving behind the event from earlier. He wouldn’t be the first cute guy you’d see, nor the last and indeed, it was easy for you to settle in the more crowded area of the locale where people were dancing either solo, with a partner or as part of a group.

Not long after you weaved your way onto the dancefloor, you felt a pair of hands settle on your hips, drawing you in. You went easily, accepting the embrace, accepting the way you were being led into the dance, swaying your hips along with his. You didn’t even miss a beat when he spun you around, but you kept your hands pressed against his shoulders, rather than wrapping your arms around his neck. You were tipsy, no doubt, and admittedly felt touch-starved but you weren’t quite in the mood for anything more. You even dodged his mouth when he tipped his head down to your lips so instead, he landed a kiss on your cheek. Still, he was pretty relentless. The dance took a turn that was significantly more sensual, crossing a line into discomfort, and you felt that was your cue to try and remove yourself from him. It was easy initially. You threw him a small smile and when he caught hold of your hand, you simply motioned you were only going to get a drink, hoping that would keep him where he was with the knowledge you would return. 

When you finally pulled away, you made a bee line towards the exit of the venue but again, you were a step too slow. The guy caught you just at the door.

“Where are you running off to, pretty?” he slurred, his voice louder above the thumping of the music. 

“Oh—Um, just getting a breath of fresh air, is all,” you said quickly and immediately wished you didn’t venture off in a place like this alone. It was as if you suddenly forgot everything that was common sense, pushed towards it by earlier frustration. 

“Doesn’t look like it to me.” He frowned, but there was no clarity in his eyes. He was entirely out of it and his fingers squeezed painfully around your wrist. You flinched visibly, squirming under his touch and even if you tried pulling your arm away, it was useless. He overpowered you even through the drunken haze. “Wanna go? Fine, then let’s go together.” 

“No—uh, I’m actually here with my friends. I’ve just—I saw them so I’m going to catch up with them. They must be looking for—”

“Then we can go to them together, sweetheart. Here, point them out to me.”

“No, really. I’m going to them alone,” you emphasized and put all your force into trying to free your hand. It may have taken him by surprise that led to his loosened grip, but as soon as you turned on your heel, you found out there was more to it than just that.

You almost faceplanted right into Matthew’s chest when you tried making a run for it. He stood there, eyes flicking between you and the guy with an unreadable expression on his face. Your heart was hammering wildly in your chest and instinctively, you almost glued yourself to his side. It wasn’t the first time someone tried to force a move on you, but it was the first time it was done so in such a thoughtless, drunken manner. Perhaps your fear was also enhanced by being alone in an unfamiliar place. To see Matthew this time felt like a blessing.

“Babe,” Matthew said by way of greeting, pulling you to him when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

You didn’t realize you were trembling until you stood so close to him, legs suddenly feeling like jelly in front of your salvation. Matthew could easily overpower the guy; even if they were roughly the same height, there was a big difference between the body of an athlete and the swaying one of a drunk guy. Still, it didn’t mean you wanted Matthew to get caught up in anything he’d later regret or would affect him in any way, so you pressed a hand to his chest trying to put some pressure into guiding him away from the scene.

“She yours?” the drunk guy slurred, head tilting back, chin pointing towards your general direction.

“Yeah. So, guess that makes the situation even worse for you,” Matthew responded. His tone was light, seemingly non-threatening to someone who didn’t know him but you did. You knew him and you could read him crystal clear in this moment. 

“Matthew, please,” you muttered, looking at him almost desperately while trying to put all your body weight into guiding him away. 

The guy scoffed. “You’ve gotta do better than that, buddy.” He snickered. “You’ve gotta keep ‘em on a tighter leash unless you want them to go—”

Matthew made a move towards him, but you quickly stepped in front of him, essentially forcing him to halt. “Matt, please. Let’s go, okay? Please. I really want to leave. Right now.” 

He glared at the guy for a moment longer but the hard look in his eyes softened as soon as his gaze fell on you. You took the liberty of placing most of your weight against Matthew, allowing him to remove both of you from the situation and towards a less crowded area. That was easy to find: with the sun having long set, most of the crowds cleared away from the promenade so there was plenty of space for you to collect yourself in peace. 

He didn’t pry into the situation, didn’t even make any smartass comments. Instead, he let you slip away from under the safety of his arm while you pace around a small area, trying to work off the anxiety as much as you could. You had to count your breaths, remind yourself to breathe in then out slowly. You were okay. You were far from that guy, and he couldn’t hurt you. At least, no more than he already did. Your wrist felt a bit sore, but you’d take that over anything worse. 

“You okay?” Matthew asked at last, tone careful. “I can go back there and pull him out, you know, get him to apologize.”

“No!” you said loudly, desperately, then cleared your throat and lowered your voice. “No, don’t go. Please. I just need a moment, that’s all. Just a little. Could you not leave? I’ll be fine in a moment. Just—just need to catch my breath—"

“Hey, hey—relax. It’s over. He can’t put a hand down on you now, or ever.” Matthew took a few steps closer to you as if apprehensive to approach you in the first place. You knew what you must’ve looked like: pale, still shaken by what happened. He held a hand towards you, palm up. “Can I touch you?” 

You looked from it to his face, then said, “don’t get any funny ideas,” but it lacked your usual punch. You took his hand though, letting yourself be drawn to him. Matthew smelled like the sea. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he’d gone down to the beach earlier to take a dip. You wished you did that rather than try and drink your frustration over missing out on a random guy. God, you could sleep right here if sleeping while standing was a thing. “I’m sorry for reacting the way I did before—with, uh—what did you call him?” 

Matthew chuckled, a low, deep chuckle. “Ron Jon.” 

“You’re awful, Tkachuk.”

“And you have a funny way of expressing gratitude.” 

“Sorry—”

He laughed louder. “I’m messing with you.” A pause, and then, “I’m sorry I rained on your parade earlier with the guy back then. If you really liked him…” He trailed off, as if to let you fill in the sentence for him.

You laughed weakly, waving a hand dismissively. “Thanks. Again. Seems like nowadays, I just keep having to thank you for one thing or the other.” 

You felt him shrug. “Fine by me. You keep adding to these favors you owe me.” 

“It’s only one. Well. Two if you want to be a dick and count this one too.” 

You took a step back, detaching yourself from him to run both hands through your hair. You felt exhausted, drained of energy yet relieved. Who would’ve thought you’d be pleased to see Matthew pull another one of his appearing out of the blue acts?

“You give me no other choice but to be one,” he joked. “Come on, let’s go back to the hotel. Everyone’s wondering where you were, so you kind of lost your right to vote on dinner for tonight.” 

You sighed heavily. “Let me guess: you all ganged up on me in my absence and settled on lobster?” 

Matthew grinned. “Can’t vacation in a seaside town and skip out on that.” 

“Ugh. Sea critters.” You pulled a face, drawing yet another laugh from Matthew. It made you feel oddly accomplished but you cut that train of thought there, forcing it to derail elsewhere, to place more familiar to you, more comfortable. “Matthew, I mean it when I said thank you. That was—it was scary,” you admitted as the two of you started walking back towards the hotel. You pulled your wrist into your hand, rubbing at the skin gently. Focused on the road ahead, you missed Matthew frowning down at the gesture. “I don’t know how that happened. It’s just—it’s not my thing to do. Go out alone, especially in a place like that. Good instincts by the way,” you tried to joke but it fell flat.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, voice tight. “I don’t want to think about it again if I can help it.” 

You cast a confused stare in his direction but by then, it was his turn to look ahead, a frown marring his features. You didn’t push any further though. 

Later that night, after you and Anna decided to call it a day and switch off the lights, you lay in bed glancing a look up at the ceiling above. You didn’t think back on the evening’s events but rather, thought back to how a familiar small brown paper bag was taped to your room’s door before dinner. Anna had fixed you with a knowing stare as you plucked it off the door, tipping its contents into the palm of your hand. 

Then, you thought how during dinner, Matthew had claimed the seat next to yours and complimented the earrings you wore, remarking how awfully familiar they seemed though he could swear he didn’t know where from. For the first time, you had an inside joke to share with him and neither of you bothered to offer any clarifications to everyone else around the table as they tried to press for details. 

three.

The Flames’ first game of the season was scheduled to take place in Las Vegas and with a few days left of vacation, you couldn’t skip on the opportunity to return to the city you were inexplicably fond of, as well as watching your brother play on the third line. The night promised to be unforgettable, and you wouldn’t miss it for the world. Although there were plenty of things to keep you busy throughout the day, your eyes would occasionally wander down to your watch, counting down the hours until the start of the game. It seemed like most of the city was doing the same.

Often, you’d spot handfuls of people donning Knights jerseys and occasionally, there would be a few Flames fans wandering the streets and locales. You’d only spotted one person wearing your brother’s jersey but that was more than enough for you – he was a fairly new face in the professional league, but he certainly pulled his weight during every shift he had on ice whenever given the opportunity. Luckily, you managed to take a quick photo of their back before they disappeared into the crowds, sending it to your brother along with a thumbs-up emoji. 

He didn’t respond immediately, nor did you expect him to. You could only imagine how quickly he racked up pre-game nerves and he had a pretty strict routine, which included avoiding his phone until after the game. You couldn’t really make sense of superstitions even if each member of your family who played, whether professionally or otherwise, had their own. Naturally, you were surprised when your phone pinged, indicating a new message almost half an hour later. Except, it wasn’t quite who you were expecting.

Matthew is that your way of saying good luck?

You frowned, but all it took was a little more attention on your part to notice you hadn’t sent the message to your brother but rather, to Matthew. Lately, he was one of your top contacts for frequent messaging.

You wrong number

You good luck to you too though, i guess :/ 

Matthew busy?

You don’t you have practice to get to?

Matthew [attachment: photo of an ice rink where a few players were captured in motion]

Matthew [attachment: photo of his skates, taken from the players’ bench]

Matthew on break, where are you?

You hanging around

Matthew what are you wearing? 

You [emoji: middle finger] 

Matthew ice cold

Matthew nice, i can handle ice cold

You then go handle ice cold so you don’t get handled tonight

Matthew wish me luck too

You i already did

Matthew i need it twice, it’s my superstition 

You that’s a bullshit superstition

Matthew if we lose tonight, it’s on you

You [emoji: angry face]

You good luck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Matthew :) 

You dropped your phone on the table with a low groan, slouching in your chair. From across the table, Anna shot you a confused stare which quickly morphed into understanding when you rolled your eyes, shooting your phone a look of frustration as if the device itself was to blame. 

“Anything interesting?” she asked in a singsong tone. 

“If you count Matthew being his usual self interesting, then that’s what’s up. Otherwise, nothing new.”

“By his usual self, do you mean engaging? Funny? Witty? So good with his words that he yet again takes your attention and keeps it while the rest of us, mere mortals, struggle to do that for longer than a few minutes tops?” 

You arched an eyebrow, somewhat amused. “All that – just empty words.” 

Anna leaned back in her seat, taking her glass with her while twirling the straw, looking ahead somewhat thoughtfully. “You know what the two of you remind me of? Those two kids in the playground who think love can only be expressed through pulling hair and making snide remarks.” 

“First of all, that’s a shitty way of trying to get someone to realize you have feelings for them and second of all, love is a pretty big word. You managing to carry it okay?” 

“Okay, maybe not love. But like? It has to be like. Say what you want to say but it looks different from the outside.” 

“Okay, you keep staying out there and let me know what you’re seeing. I like your imagination. Very vivid,” you commented but there was no bite to your words and Anna threw her head back with laughter. 

You didn’t think much of your exchange with Matthew throughout the rest of the day, nor did you try to linger too long on Anna’s interpretation of your relationship with Matthew. You let it wash over you, knowing it’d give her too much satisfaction if you fretted too much over it and anyway, many of your thoughts seemed to fly towards the evening’s game. 

By the time the two of you made your way to the arena, however, you moved from anxiety to excitement within the space of mere moments, apparently. Even if this wasn’t your first rodeo and you’d been to countless games before, there was nothing quite like the thrill of an opening game. You and Anna had spaces reserved in the upper stands along with other family members and significant others but both of you chose to watch the warm-ups close-up, so you hung around by the glass at ice level. 

The Vegas Knights and the Flames stepped on the ice to a combination of cheers and the thump of a loud electronic mix. You spotted your brother almost instantly. He did a quick lap around the team’s half of the ice before pulling a puck towards him with his stick, sliding it this way and that before shooting it over towards the net. Once sufficiently warmed up, he cast a searching look around the rink and you quickly waved both arms up in the air to try and get his attention. You knew he’d spotted you, but he made an entire show out of looking over you until you smacked a hand against the panel. You knew the sound wouldn’t be heard over the general noise of the arena, but he still laughed. When he skated over, you held your phone up, giving it a quick shake and mouthing “selfie?”. 

He flashed a thumbs up and you quickly turned around to take the photo, but it wasn’t until you inspected it afterwards that you noticed you were photobombed by Matthew himself. You had every intention to look up from the screen and somehow try and get his attention only to glare at him, but he was a step ahead. You almost jumped out of your skin when you noticed Matthew standing right there by the glass, smirking at you.

“Asshole,” you mouthed, not daring to voice it out given you were surrounded by kids.

Matthew winked, skated to collect a stray puck then threw it up over the boards towards one of the kids standing right next to you. The kid was clearly thrilled by the gesture, bouncing up and down with the puck held over his head as if it were a trophy. You couldn’t help it: your heart melted at the sight, so you simply nodded once at Matthew, apparently just in time as the warm-up countdown reached zero.

You weren’t surprised the home team were putting on such a show for the opening night. There was a little bit of Vegas in every opening act: from the fireworks set off outside the arena to the showgirls and mind-blowing animations projected down on the ice, it felt more of a Stanley Cup playoff game than the start of a regular season game. This was Vegas and no one did it quite like Vegas did, you had to give that to them. 

Both teams were almost evenly balanced throughout the first period but stepping out of intermissions and into the second, the Flames started powering ahead. It was as if something had clicked together even better and they functioned as a well-oiled machine, both in offence and defense. By the end of that period, they were leading the Knights 3-2 and you were more than elated your brother had earned himself an assist. Like all games, tensions formed quickly, and the third period saw both teams play aggressively. On several occasions, you caught sight of players clearly chirping each other even while heading towards their respective benches after the end of a shift. Once, Matthew seemed to be involved in a seemingly endless yelling match with a player on the opposing team. There were more checks against the panels, an impressive number of penalties drawn by both teams, and it felt as if the atmosphere was just tethering towards a fight.

It happened right after the Flames scored the fourth goal with just two minutes left of the game. 

The moment the puck was dropped at center ice, you watched as Matthew charged ahead towards one of the Knights players who didn’t hesitate to drop the gloves. Between them, Matthew had the faster instinct, and he landed the first punch, effectively forcing both players to fall to the ice while the referees scrambled to try and split them apart. They were there a moment too late, just mere seconds after you caught sight of knuckles scraping along Matthew’s mouth on the big screens above. At first, it seemed to be nothing more than a graze but once he was separated and made his way towards the Flames bench, you noticed several spots of blood on his jersey on the screens above that made you almost jump out of your seat.

Sure, this was a familiar sight, but it didn’t alleviate the sheer shock and restlessness. Whatever had happened between them must’ve been a pretty big deal to set Matthew off the way it did. There was no way of sugarcoating it: the fight was vicious. More than ever, you wanted the period countdown to reach zero so you could go down to the lockers. It wasn’t just a few nagging feelings towards Matthew that led you to react the way you did. He was a friend, after all, so worrying for him was simply natural. An expected way of responding to a situation like that. 

“He had it worse before, remember?” Anna reminded you as you followed the small stream of relatives and friends down towards the players’ rooms.

“Still looked pretty bad to me,” you responded, briefly pulling your lower lip between your teeth. Before she could continue being the voice of reason, you added in a light tone, “I just want to see if he had any teeth knocked out of his mouth this time around.”

It took some time before the players filed out and as you watched them come out one by one, you almost wished you saved this for somewhere less…well, public. Sure, you were just a friend checking on a friend, but you wished you could do that without an audience. 

Your brother emerged first, beaming, no doubt pleased with the win, and you hugged him tightly, easily sharing his joy. 

“He’s just getting ready to come out now,” he informed you, heading nodding back towards the locker.

You blinked. “What? Oh—no, I’m just. I was waiting for you to say congratulations. What are you even talking about,” you mumbled but inevitably, your eyes were drawn towards the locker room as the door swung open and Matthew stepped out.

His hair was still damp but already curling again. He was dressed in the same suit he probably arrived in, a simple light grey number that fit him perfectly. He had his backpack on also and in one hand, he carried an apparently ice-cold bottle of water while the other was pressing an ice pack to the corner of his mouth. When you made eye contact, he frowned lightly and for a moment, seemed almost hesitant to approach you. This time, you were a step ahead and cornered him before he decided to walk away.

You nodded your head once, indicating in his general direction. “What? You’re trying to add to the family’s hefty dentist bill by getting a few teeth knocked out already?”

Matthew shrugged. “It’s not hockey without a few scraps now and then.”

“For a guy who got a goal and an assist, you sure don’t look too pleased with that.” 

At that comment, Matthew’s expression shifted, lightening up considerably. “Are you keeping track of my stats now?”

“What? No, Tkachuk. I was doing what everyone else in that arena was doing: paying attention generally speaking.” 

Suddenly, his entire face scrunched up in pain and he almost doubled over as he groaned. Instinctively, you reached out for him, eyes widening a little when bending down a little to try and look at his face. 

“Oh my god—Matthew. Are you okay? Do you need me to get a medic to check—” 

You frowned as soon as you felt his shoulders tremble under your touch. Slowly, it dawned on you he was laughing. Laughing. You slapped his shoulder lightly, the gesture more a tap than anything else and you started walking down the corridor quickly, trying to catch up with everyone else as they filed out of the arena. 

“Hey, hey, wait, Y/N! Come on, don’t be mad,” he called out after you and you heard him jog to catch up with you. When he did, he took a couple more steps ahead then stepped in your path, walking backwards to match your pace. “I was only messing around. I couldn’t not do that. You should’ve seen your face, honestly.” 

“My face? Hope you’ve seen yours. I’m not mad. Me being mad would basically mean you managed to get to me which you really didn’t, so don’t give yourself any credit, Tkachuk,” you responded. “You just reminded me you’re still a dick so thanks for that.” 

“Give me a free pass. I’m injured.” 

“If you’re searching for sympathy, you’re looking for it in the wrong place,” you informed him, side stepping him so that he resumed walking at your side instead. After a few moments of silence, you conceded with a sigh. “Seriously speaking. How’s your mouth?”

“Don’t think I’ll need fillers, let’s just say.” He removed his hand from his mouth, and you looked over. 

Thankfully, it seemed that putting ice on it quickly was paying off. The area was somewhat red, but no significant damage seemed to be visible to the untrained eye. He was certainly miles better than he was just months ago. 

“Looks okay, I guess,” you shrugged. “What happened? Honestly, it looked pretty intense from the outside.” 

Matthew didn’t respond and you didn’t press him for details even after you stepped out into the balmy Vegas night. If he chose to not share with you, then you guessed it must’ve been either pretty personal or pretty stupid. You leaned more towards the former. You didn’t even complain when he followed you to the car you hired, claiming the passenger seat. Before you also stepped inside, a message pinged in from Anna informed you she had taken off with Johnny for dinner but promised to be back in the room in a few to catch up.

You didn’t start the engine when you fixed your seatbelt and instead, leaned your head back against the rest, watching a few other vehicles pull out of the car park. In his seat, Matthew was looking out of the window to his left, heading resting against a loosely formed fist propped up against the door. 

“He was talking shit about you,” he said at last, but didn’t turn to you when he spoke. 

“Who was?” 

“The guy on the other team. He made a comment about you towards your brother at the end of the shift. Something about… I don’t know, something crude, vulgar. Don’t really remember it.” 

You didn’t quite believe him on the last part, but you allowed it anyway. “Okay… Well, I don’t know the guy anyway, so it didn’t matter, Matthew. You should have let it slip by or left my brother to deal with it.” Then, out of curiosity, you asked, “why didn’t you?”

More silence. Occasionally, the muffled sound of a passing car would cut through it but it, too, would be gone in seconds.

“Because I couldn’t.”

You pursed your lips and your fingers clenched then unclenched in your lap. You placed your hands on the steering wheel, then dropped them away before settling them back on it after starting the engine. 

“Thanks, I guess. You just keep making me owe you favors.”

“You don’t owe me—”

“So, I’ll clear that now with dinner. Just please don’t tell me you’re going to need to be on a smoothie diet. I’ll feel bad eating something really good while you’re there with a strawberry and banana drink. Not that I’d stop eating though, just so you know. But it’s the thought that counts,” you said and finally, finally he chuckled quietly. 

“No smoothie diets this time.”

You sighed dramatically. “Maybe no smoothie diets ever?”

Matthew shrugged. He was still not meeting your eyes but that was okay. “Can’t promise that. Kind of comes with the job. Just in case though, I like the sweeter stuff more. Triple chocolate, Oreo pieces, peanut butter.” 

“Thanks, Matthew. I’ll file that under information I don’t care to know about.” 

“I’m injured. Show some sympathy,” he demanded without heat, finally turning to you. 

You cooed then reached out with one of your hands to pat his cheek lightly. “Aw, really searching for it in the wrong place.”

“I’ll make do with what I can get,” he allowed, and you could swear he leaned into your touch, but you tore your hand away before either of you got too comfortable. 

four.

Matthew called in his favor after a few of his teammates agreed where to host their Halloween party. 

“Kind of sounds like you’re the one asking for a favor,” you commented, planting yourself at your kitchen table while securing the phone between your ear and shoulder.

Matthew sighed on the other end. “Sort of. Who does a themed Halloween party anyway? The theme itself is Halloween.” 

“You’re not wrong about that. Could be fun though, a bit more unique. So, what’s the theme for this year?” 

“Couple outfits,” Matthew replied without hesitation. 

You stilled and were grateful he wasn’t in the same room as you. It took you a great deal more energy over the course of the past few months to convince yourself that Matthew didn’t attract you in one way or another. His looks aside, it was rare you came across someone who could easily keep up with your snide remarks and the more you got to know him, the more you realized that there was more to Matthew than just being a typical athlete with his share of well-deserved fame. He was funny, dedicated and undoubtedly, caring. You had some first-hand experience with the latter. After all, he didn’t owe you anything to make him obligated to jump into whatever weird situation you found yourself in.

You warmed to him little by little. If you found him attractive, well that was for you alone to know though it made everything just that more difficult. Thankfully, Matthew seemed pretty oblivious to it or at least, he was doing a good job at pretending he didn’t catch you staring at him on several occasions or the few times you took a discrete step back if it felt like you were too close to him. Knowing he was asking you to go together as a couple (pretend couple, you corrected yourself) only added to the difficulty of coming to terms with your…crush. 

Puppy love, you assured yourself. It’ll go as quickly as it came. 

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, still here. Guess it sucks another year will go by without the opportunity to bring out your Fortnite costume.”

“Oh, come on. I wouldn’t dress like a game character!”

“Matthew,” you warned.

There was a pause, then, “okay, fine. Maybe I would. So, can you come?” 

You shrugged, then remembered he couldn’t see it. “I owe it to you, don’t I?”

“Great! Hey, choose something good for us. There’s going to be a prize for best dressed and I have my eyes on it.”

“I think we can both agree my creativity will not let us down. I’ll text you my idea. You just make sure you actually stick to it, so I don’t end up looking stupid.”

“Don’t worry,” he started, “I won’t dump you on Halloween.”

“Good to know I won’t end up traumatized and have my favorite holiday ruined,” you said, by way of goodbye.

-

“Hey, spin around for me once. You look good. Blonde’s not bad on you.” 

“No color’s bad on me,” you responded but refused to entertain Matthew by complying with his request. Instead, you rang the bell to Noah’s apartment after the door didn’t budge when Matthew tried the handle. 

“Come on, just a spin,” Matthew insisted, nudging his elbow into your own then pressed the doorbell himself once again – hard, as if that would make it ring louder.

“Only if you dance for me and do the entire Greased Lightning choreography without missing a step.” 

Matthew feigned a groan and you shot him an amused look. Before you could even comment on that, the door opened, and Noah stood at the threshold. The ruckus from inside spilled out into the corridor and from what you could see beyond him, it was a full house of all sorts of characters. 

“Wow! Sandy and Danny! Finally, someone with really good taste,” Noah said by way of greeting and he looked towards you pointedly. 

You flashed him a grin. “Always a pleasure to exceed expectations,” you responded and stepped into his open arms, a clear invitation for an embrace that was shortly broken apart by Matthew.

“Hey, none of that man,” he said, pulling you back and easily holding most of your weight as you broke into a laugh that had you stumbling into his side. “I didn’t even get to tell her she’s the one that I want.” 

“Yeah, well, you better shape up ‘cause I need a man,” you responded, without missing a beat though you couldn’t help but replay his words in your mind. They sounded a lot like a broken record that you desperately wished to stop immediately before this…thing went way too far and spun out of control.  

You were both led towards a photo wall and if you had any nerves about striking good poses without at least some liquid courage first, all that vanished. To your surprise, Matthew easily took the lead initially, falling to his knees in front of you in an attempt to recreate the part where a smitten Danny fell before Sandy, completely and utterly overwhelmed by her presence. Despite it being difficult to control your laughter, you played along with ease. At first, you were simply grinning down at him but you couldn’t let all his in-character effort go to waste, so you turned, casting a glance down towards him over your shoulder. To your side, Noah’s flash was going off every few seconds as he tried to capture the two of you from the best angle, together with cheers of encouragement. For your second pose, you rested your arms on Matthew’s shoulders once he rose back to his full height and his hands held on to either side of your torso. Again, the flash went off and again, the two of you changed pose into something more casual: him, standing behind you with his palms on your hips while you place a hand on his face, grinning at the camera. The flash went off again and he whooped loudly.

“I’m never inviting both of you to a party with this theme again,” Noah muttered, feigning disgruntlement. “You can’t come into my home and kill it like that.” 

“Blame the one who came up with this idea in the first place,” Matthew defended, holding both hands up in the air in a gesture of innocence. 

It was true. The idea to dress as Danny and Sandy from Grease came to you fairly quickly. You knew the two were a popular go-to, but you enjoyed the movie greatly. Plus, it was a great opportunity for you to pull out a pair of red heels you invested a hefty sum of money into. And, well, admittedly there was something about Matthew that made you think he’d suit the role just fine. When you shared your idea with him, he was on board from the start without complaining or suggesting alternatives. You were grateful for that: when Matthew picked you up earlier, dressed in an all-black outfit, leather jacket and hair styled to rival John Travolta’s, you gave yourself a mental pat on your shoulder. If any photos would go up on the internet, you were pretty sure Instagram would be grateful to you. Certainly, you knew Chantal and Keith would get a kick out of it for sure.

“Guilty as charged,” you acknowledged. “I’m going to look for Anna. Catch you later.” You gave a wave to the both of them before making your way towards the hub of activity where couple costumes ranged from peanut butter and jelly to superheroes. 

She was fairly easy to locate, in part because she told you she and Johnny would dress as Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor. The red, blue and gold of her outfit were unmissable even in a sea of costumes. As soon as she spotted you approaching, she made a beeline and wrapped an arm around yours.

“Tell me you and Matthew will recreate the entire You’re the One That I Want scene,” she pleaded. “Please tell me that at some point this evening, you’ll tell us to clear the dancefloor so the two of you can have your moment.”

You rolled your eyes, dragging her along towards a table hosting drinks and small bites. “There’s no moment we’re going to be having.” 

“Because you don’t want to or because you want to so badly that you don’t know how to ask him? I’m pretty sure he’ll say yes.” 

“Neither,” you muttered but even you’d be able to hear the lack of conviction in your tone from a mile away. 

To take your mind off it, you poured yourself a glass of red wine, taking a tentative sip from it. Across the room, Matthew had deposited his black leather jacket away and started making rounds around the room. You took a longer sip from your wine and looked away. 

Anna fixed you with a knowing stare which you refused to acknowledge, but she knew you like the back of her hand. “It’s okay to say you like him, you know,” she advised, and you hated the soothing tone she tried to take when saying that. It felt more pitying than anything, as if you hadn’t already had your share of disappointments in love—or, relationships better said. 

“Who said anything about liking him? He’s not bad to look at I’ll admit, but that’s where it stops.” You frowned, looking out of the nearest nearby window that gave a broad view of the city below. “That’s where I want it to stop,” you admitted, this time quieter. 

You were well aware that you were occasionally trying to look for a narrative that was most convenient for late night thoughts when you had the peace and privacy to think of him as you wished. The reality couldn’t be more different, though, and you knew that. Matthew was helpful to you before because he was good friends with your brother and eventually, you realized that it was just part of his nature. Beyond being successful, beyond his fame and recognition, Matthew was kind and funny and respectful. It was just that you didn’t give him the chance to before and now that you got to know him better, you suddenly realized that…what? You’d like the first man who gives you a helping hand? If that were the case, you should’ve gotten the memo sooner: it would’ve been easier liking the tech guy from work who once debugged your laptop.

It wasn’t doing you any good to try and look for a ‘but’ in every situation: Matthew is helpful because he’s good friends with my brother but it’s not like that should force him to act as if we’re romantically involved not once or twice or thrice but now, four times. Regardless of how you looked at it, that reeked of desperation. You were in that weird period in your life where it felt as if everyone around you was in a relationship, so maybe that mood translated to you. 

That’s right, you settled. That’s what was possibly behind these thoughts of yours. You found Matthew attractive – and what? So did plenty of other people. You saw him surrounded by girls after practice, after matches, while out. What you felt was nothing special. It felt easier to think of it that way, even if for a few hours to truly enjoy the party without having that lurking at the back of your mind. 

You mingled easily, danced with Anna, danced with other players’ girlfriends and wives, danced with your brother, even attempted a few traditional Russian dances taught by Nikita, Artyom and a few of their friends, that left you breathless by their rapid pace and intricate footwork. 

“I’m done!” you declared, breathless and almost swaying on your feet when another Russian folk song came to an end but thankfully, you managed to hold steady before you could catch a ride on the hot mess express. “Absolutely wasted. Knocked out.” You stepped away, tired but euphoric and dropped rather unceremoniously on one of the available couches pushed against a wall. 

“Having fun?” Matthew asked and there was a light flush on his cheeks you knew wasn’t from dancing. There was even just a slight slur to his speech.

“The most,” you replied, breathless, and accepted the drink he held out to you. You took a sip without questioning him what was in the glass, only to find out for yourself he was settling for harder stuff tonight. “But never let it be said that anyone can keep up with Russians because let me tell you,” you whistled quietly, “we’re a couple of steps behind. Plenty of steps behind, actually.” 

Matthew flashed a lazy smile and you briefly spared a moment to envy him for how kept together he remained despite being evidently buzzed. “’s okay. At least we’re the better dressed ones so we lose in style.” 

You took another sip from his glass, holding it out to him with a smirk. “Tell me about it, stud,” you said in what you hoped was a low, alluring tone of voice but no sooner did you think that, and you were reduced to embarrassed laughter. “Forget about that! Forget it, forget it! Where’s the delete button?” 

“I didn’t come equipped with that,” he declared proudly, finishing off what was left of his drink. “C’mere, you can show me a couple of those steps you learned.” 

He stood, a little unsteadily initially then held a hand to you. You knew he wouldn’t have the strength to pull you up properly, so you stood easily fully intent to actually lead him through some of the steps. Except, Matthew was definitely swaying more than you thought he would. There was something inexplicably amusing about the situation and instead of directing him towards the center of the room, you steered him away from it and towards a small bathroom you were shown to earlier that night when you needed some time to re-touch your makeup. 

“Where’re we going?” he asked curiously, looking over his shoulder towards the living room with a look that could only be read as longing. 

“To cool down a little and then you can learn as many folk dances as you want. Believe me, you need to be alert for them. Can’t miss a step,” you advised, trying to steady him by wrapping an arm around him though the difference in weight between the two of you couldn’t compare. Still, you managed to get him into the bathroom safely without either of you making a mess of yourselves or the room. 

“Are you gonna cool down too?” he questioned. 

“Sure thing, definitely need it.” 

“Good, we’ll cool down together.” With that, he made a move to open the glass partition for the shower cubicle but thankfully, you were significantly more alert than he was and managed to prevent him from doing anything more than that.

“Not that sort of cool down. Here, sit here,” you encouraged, lowering the lid on the toilet so Matthew could drop down. You doubted you’d be able to hold much of his strength above the sink if you were to help him splash some cold water on his face.

“But I want that sort of cool down,” he slurred. “With you. Us two. You said you want to cool down too. Could be a couple activity.” He grinned, as if proud of himself. 

Thankfully, Matthew was buzzed enough to miss the flush on your face, the slight shake of your hand as you arranged a towel around his neck to prevent too much overspill before turning the tap on. 

“Can’t do that, Matthew. Here, this will be much better, I promise.” 

“Wanna try though,” he mumbled but was still compliant as you pressed a wet, cool palm against his forehead, then either of his cheeks. “Not cool enough.” His complaint was accompanied by a frown which only morphed into a lazy smirk when he leaned back, trying to pull you with him. “C’mon, Y/N. It’s a couple’s Halloween night.” 

“Matthew, we’re not a couple,” you said gently, pushing your palms against his shoulders in an attempt to free yourself from his hold. Before it was too late. Before you allowed yourself to get drawn into a drunk man’s ramblings. 

“But I wanna be. A couple, with you.” 

You put all your strength into breaking away from his hold and thankfully, managed to do so. Your heart was hammering in your chest as if desperately trying to release itself from the cage of your ribs. 

“Matthew, you’re drunk. Here, splash some cold water on your face so you can come back to your senses.” 

“But I’m not drunk,” he insisted and as if to demonstrate, he stood up quickly. He swayed on the spot, stretching out his arms a little and once he found his footing, he looked towards you with an expression that mixed pride with hopefulness. “See? Definitely okay—”

You frowned, feeling a little caged in. You should’ve left the door open at least. “Okay, then let’s go back out there, yeah? I can get an Uber and I’ll take you home if you prefer that?” 

“Yes,” he said, then leaned back against the door. “Only if you come with me.” 

You exhaled, suddenly tired as if the exchange was working every ounce of energy out of you. “I’ll come to make sure you’re okay and can make it to your bed okay.”

“I can though. I can definitely make it there even on my own and you know why? Because I’m not drunk,” Matthew insisted and when you shot him a look of disbelief, he peeled himself away from the door. “Look, look I can prove it to you I’m not drunk.” 

Before you could even ask him to walk a straight line without stumbling his steps, Matthew’s arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand pressed on the back of your head, bringing you closer until your lips met. Kissing Matthew was like everything you imagined and more. He even did that with the same passion with which he skated on ice, chasing puck after puck. It left you breathless how well he worked his lips against your own as if all along, he knew how to do that in such way that it’d leave your legs feeling like jelly. Beyond that though, it felt comfortable. Not forceful despite him having not asked if he could do it in the first place, yet it still felt right. You tasted sweetness on his mouth and the sharp tang of whiskey. Vaguely, you knew nothing else could compare. It was that thought that made you push away from him with as much force as you could muster, ducking under his arm and towards the door. 

“I’ll ask someone to take you home,” you said without even looking his way before leaving dashing out of the bathroom.

“You okay?” Anna asked you when you ran into her. Quite literally. 

“Uh—yeah. No, actually. I think I feel a bit unwell so I’m going to head home, okay?” 

You made a move to leave but her arm stopped you. “Hey. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Above her shoulder, you saw Matthew emerge from the bathroom, a little dazzled, eyes searching the room. Before he could even spot you, you quickly freed yourself from her hold and nodded. “Will be. I’ll text you when I get home. Don’t rush back, okay? Tell Alex I said thanks for the invite.” 

You didn’t stumble a step in your heels as you jogged towards the door, making a swift exit before you attracted even more attention.

+ one.

Matthew left no calls and no messages, but that was fine. You didn’t spend time trying to build your expectations of anything like that happening because drunk words weren’t always sober thoughts. The event was just something you had to deal with and if you had to do it alone, then so be it. Reasonably speaking, you and Matthew went from nothing to friends and if you caught feelings along the way, then that was your mistake for letting yourself slip like that. You were left broken hearted once, you really didn’t want to go through that again especially over someone that wasn’t even really and truly yours to begin with.

So, the next morning, you woke up at a reasonably early hour despite the late night but felt energized enough to sweep through your apartment and collect the garments you tossed carelessly on your way to bed after arriving at home. You said a heartfelt goodbye to Sandy, apologizing that in this scenario, her and Danny didn’t end up driving off in a red convertible. After that, you showered and changed in a fresh set of clothes even if the day would most likely be spent indoors. It was a fitting conclusion to the Halloween weekend, and you could do with some downtime, really.

Anna must’ve stayed with Johnny because regardless of how much noise you made, she didn’t emerge from the room and after fixing a quick breakfast and brewing coffee to continued silence, you knew you were right. It didn’t bother you. You’d make full use of the couch and stretch out on it properly as you flicked through your Netflix account and for the sake of sticking to weekend morning traditions, you selected a lighthearted sitcom. You were halfway through the third episode when your doorbell rang. You could’ve sworn Anna had a spare key of her own unless she misplaced it or forgot it home. Not entirely out of question.

Except, it wasn’t Anna who greeted you when you opened the door.

“Oh.” You coughed lightly, crossing your arms then unfolding them, then leaning one against the doorway before dropping it to your side. “Hey—uh. Hey Tkachuk, isn’t it a bit early for you to be out and about? You were smashed the last time I saw you.” 

Matthew looked over your shoulder into the apartment, as if checking to see if you were alone. “Can I come in?” 

Defeated, you stepped to the side and cleared the way for him to step inside before pushing the door closed. Part of you wished you’d dressed up as if you were ready to head off somewhere. You weren’t quite ready nor willing to face whatever music Matthew had in mind for you. 

In the aftermath of the party, out of the flashiness of the costume, Matthew seemed to be perfectly clear-headed despite the state you’d left him in. The curls atop his head seemed soft despite the natural frizz and as he passed by, you caught a whiff of sharp cologne and fresh bodywash. 

“Is Anna here?”

“Are we playing twenty-one questions?” 

“No?”

“Kind of sounds like it, though?” You laughed quietly, trying to lighten the mood. It was bad enough the weather outside was gloomy, autumn settling in full force. Now, you had to deal with a Matthew who looked as if he wasn’t sure he came to the right place. “Coffee?” you asked, already leading the way towards the kitchen. You heard him follow behind you just moments later. While you poured a full cup for him, he hovered by the table, making you frown at him. “What’s wrong with you? You need an invite to sit down and relax? Seriously, Matthew, you look like you should be in bed.” 

“You left last night without saying anything,” he said instead. 

“Uh—yeah. I was kind of tired and I wanted it to call it a night early so—”

“Was it because of what I said or what I did?” 

You almost dropped the coffee cup, but fortunately only startled enough for the liquid to slosh over the rim and down the back of your hand, causing you to hiss in pain. You cursed quietly and, in an instant, Matthew crossed over the room and took the cup from you, setting it down on the table before leading you towards the sink. As if used to this, he placed your hand under ice cold water and once the sharp pain numbed, you pushed his hand away, taking a step to the side in an attempt to put more distance between you. 

“It’s fine, I’ve got this,” you mumbled, holding your hand still under the jet for a few more seconds before closing it.

It was hardly worth the fuss, but it gave you a reason to make yourself busy with something other than freaking out. It couldn’t be that he remembered anything. It couldn’t be that he was standing in your kitchen, thinking that it was a good idea to just open up that subject when you were so ready to take a shovel to it and bury it six feet under. 

“Didn’t you get tired of it at all?” he tried again.

“Tired of what?”

“Of pretending. Of only acting like we’re together for one reason or the other—”

“Matthew, I asked you only once and you know why. I apologized then but if it helps you sleep better at night, I’ll apologize again for dragging you into my mess. I don’t know what the point is of this discussion—”

“The point,” he said, raising his voice but only to cut through your speech. “The point is that I’m tired of it. I’m tired of having to be by your side and pretend. It got to a stage where I don’t even know what’s real and what isn’t, and I feel as if the only time I’ll know that for sure will be when you find someone, so you no longer need to turn to me to pretend.” 

“Matthew, I’m not using you, if that’s what you’re thinking. You’re coming at me with this out of the blue and I don’t even understand what this is all about,” you argued, waving a hand between the two of you. 

Matthew clenched his jaw. You watched as he flexed it and his eyebrows furrowed. “Do you need me to spell it out for you again? I thought I was pretty straightforward about what I want last night.” 

“You were drunk last night, is what you were. You could hardly put a foot in front of the other.” 

“You know that’s not true,” he retorts, lifting his arms then dropping them back down to his sides. “I was sober enough to know damn well what I said and why I said it. If you want to keep pretending even now, even at this point, then you go ahead and do that but let me be clear with you again and you take what you want from it: I don’t want to pretend with you anymore. I want to be with you. You want to know what that feels like? It feels a lot like being so close to something you want, literally having that thing dangled right in front of you only to have it snatched just when you think it’s yours. Me kissing you last night? I’m sorry I forced it on you, I could’ve gone about doing it differently but I’m not sorry for what I feel. That was all me and not the alcohol. So, you take this and do what you want with it.”

You stared at him, disbelieving your ears. It wouldn’t surprise you if that was the case: you did wake up surprisingly refreshed even after an emotionally charged night, so for all you knew, you could be dreaming this. 

“Matthew, what are you—That’s, you’re kidding me with this right? You can’t. You can’t possibly think that.” 

“And why not?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense. Are you even hearing yourself talk?” 

“Why doesn’t it make sense? Want me to go about it differently? If you let me pull your hair, I’ll let you push me in the sandbox.” 

You were suffering from a strange, ill-timed case of déjà vu. Part of you wanted to laugh at the situation but the bigger part of you triumphed, thankfully. You released a breath you had been holding, bringing both hands up to cover your face, taking some moments to yourself. Or perhaps, you’d lost track of time because eventually, you heard Matthew sigh and felt his fingers wrap around each wrist though he didn’t put pressure to tug your hands down from your face.

“Sorry. I’m just—I’m not doing this the right way. I don’t want it to seem like I’m forcing my feelings on you and that you should accept them. If I misread us—you at any point, then fine. Just, we can drop it here and I’ll deal with it but—”

You shook your head slowly. “No, I just need a moment. Sorry. You really caught me by surprise. I didn’t… I thought everything you said last night…what you did… I thought that was just, well, just the alcohol. So, I did the best thing I knew to do and, uh, left.”

“Drunk words, sober thoughts,” he reminded you quietly and this time, you dropped your hands away from your face so you could look up at him. 

He was so handsome. Ridiculously handsome in his casual clothes. Briefly, you thought back to the time you first found safety in his arms and wondered if maybe… Well, why not. You closed the distance between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him, fingers clinging to the thick material of his hoodie while you faceplanted against his chest and breathed him in.

You liked Matthew. You liked Matthew so much that the admission overwhelmed you so much that you squeezed him to you, trying desperately to bring him closer. The gesture seemed to prompt him into action, and he returned the hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and then to the base of your throat once he’d lowered his head there. 

“Me too. I want to be with you too. Really be with you. No more of this pretend stuff,” you told him, your voice muffled against his body, but you knew he caught every word.

He chuckled, the sound low and deep, sending shivers down your spine. “We won Noah’s competition last night.”

“Bet he did it because of your long face,” you commented, unable to help yourself. “What did we win?” 

Matthew made a move to step back, but you clung to him, much to your embarrassment. It seemed as if your body acted out of sync with your mind, but who could blame it when Matthew stood right there, right before you. Turned out he only took a step back to lift you off your feet and instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his hips, arms resting loosely around his neck. You leaned in and pressed a fleeting kiss to his mouth as he stumbled away from the kitchen while you stole another kiss. And then, just because you could, a third. 

“A voucher to a seafood restaurant,” he informed you, breaking into a laugh when you groaned, throwing your head back in sheer frustration even if you had a strong feeling he was only messing with you.

“Remind me to never put so much effort if that’s what the stake are.” 

“Noted. Next time, I’ll tell you we could just stay home for Halloween and play by our rules. Outfits optional. Probably not recommended.” 

“That’s…really not what I said.” 

“I’m reading between the lines. See? We know each other so well.” 

You laughed as he carried you all the way into your room without even as much as breaking a sweat. That was definitely some food for thought at a later point.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

PLEASE tell me Matt is Matt Murdock and he overhears her talking to a friend or something about Matt and he has a lil crush on her and decides to ask her out or play along to bug billy, at first I could see billy thinking nah this guy has nothing on me but Matt can totally prove his worth and but the hell out of billy he’s a sarcastic motherfucker who wouldn’t take Billy’s shit, plus he’s hot and his abs😍 I think Billy’s not apologised or done enough to earn her back yet but his hearts in the right place. Also frank taking her side was amazing I love it. Frank is such a gentleman I couldn’t see him letting billy treat a girl like shit

Also I saw your post about not feeling worthy and I wanted to say. You’re more than worthy and you’re so loved and appreciated on here. You’re not annoying and should never have to prove anything to anyone. If there are people in your life like that pls drop them or ignore them. You’re a wonderful person and you’re whole and worthy on your own. You do not need anyone validation or to prove anything. I hope one day you’re so surrounded by people who prove and show you it all the time but until then you need to be that person for yourself, it’s tough but please do even if you don’t believe it I promise you are and one day you will feel it too. I’m not exaggerating when I say your writing got me back into reading which In turn saved my life. Waiting for your updates and reading books the last year has kept me alive and made me feel so much less alone, somebody who’s selfless and as kind as you are deserves the absolute world 10 times over and I’m sorry you’ve felt like you deserve any less. Please take care do something nice for yourself today even if it’s just buying a coffee/cake or an extra 10 minutes in bed 💗

Of course Matt is Matt Murdock 😅 and some of that stuff you said does happen, but not exactly like that.

Billy definitely hasn't done enough, and even he knows it.

Maybe Billy sees Matt kissing her?

It's funny that you say i feel loved and appreciated on here when it's exactly here that I feel used more than anywhere else 😅 like, people read the fic, they like, ask for more constantly, but won't tell me i did good or why they liked it and it's definitely done a good number on me, destroying my self worth. I am new to this, writing and posting and I'm not sure how other writers manage to survive here, where all their works are undervalued, it's heartbreaking and I love them all for sticking through it.

I am surrounded by people that value me, I know that, but i guess I don't see any value in myself and that's the problem. But I know everyone tries to show me😅

Okay I had some ice cream on your behalf, so thank you kind baby 😘😘😘 I love you too for taking time out of your day to send me love.

[gaitwae]

Could you write a fic where Loki and female reader switch bodies and have to stay like that until someone figures how to turn them back?

Comment/reblog!

Tag List: @make-me-imagine @bwemph @myraiswack @rorybutnotgilmore @loki-snape-our-hero @wolfish-trickster @lucywrites02 @mostly-marvel-musings @winterfrostsarmy @superheroesandstardust @castiels-majestic-wings @geekns @natandersonnla @cozy-the-overlord @megthemewlingquim @whatafuckingdumbass @thebookbakery @delightfulheartdream @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @the-emo-asgardian @itscomplicatedx @sophlubbwriting @darkacademicfrom2021 @lilyofthesword @xlehukax @electroma89 @joucebox @high-functioning-lokipath @lokislittlesigyn @kingix-the-confused-earthling @nilavey @superfangirl-romanogers @funsized-mimi

Warnings: A disgusting amount of fluff.

“Oh, for the last time, darling! You shouldn’t be messing with spells you don’t know the first thing of,” Loki scoffed behind you, making you jump and snap his spellbook shut. It was an odd thing to remember that Loki even had a spellbook, but you had to learn new spells somewhere, right? You were just a simple mortal, and you had no use for things like magic on Midgard.

Or so he told you.

“I mean, yeah, but what’s it to you?” you mumbled, turning around to face him. “I wanted to go over a new spell with you, if that was okay.” You put your hands together in front of you and smiled up at your friend. You tried for your best smile, which ultimately caused him to cave.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Alright. But is it within the range we spoke of? What we just went over? I don’t want you to overwhelm yourself so soon in your learning. Some messes just don’t clean as well as the others do.” He put his nose in the air as if he was remembering just how uncleanable past messes had been. He took your hands. “Let’s do the spell. Hurry. I haven’t got all day and I truly don’t want to be stuck in some kind of situation we can’t sort out ourselves.”

“It sounds like you’re noncommittal,” you teased, reciting the spell you had just read out of the spellbook not even seconds before Loki opened the door and walked in on you.

“I can be plenty committed. Just not to your self-destructive need to be a sorcerer,” he said airily, speaking through the incantation; he didn’t even comment on it. 

If he had even heard it.

When you finished the rest of your incantation, the spell started to take hold. You became woozy, and so did Loki. You crashed into his arms, and he collapsed on the floor with you in his embrace. He smelled like mint and some kind of harsh cologne, but it fitted him. It was the last piece of consciousness you could hold onto before you awoke...

+-+--

“Hey, Lokes, are you awake? Hellloooo?” Tony’s voice came. It sounded far away. You stretched, and you could still pick up that cologne from where you laid. It was less intense than you thought it would be from hardly smelling it at all. You opened your eyes.

“Where am I?” you asked, and funnily enough, so did Loki. Odd choice of words.

“Stark!” someone called. You sat up to see who the person was, but your blood ran cold at the sight. “Stark, what happened? What has been done to me!? Where is—?” 

They stopped as well. There you were, your face, your voice, but... not you. You looked down at your hands. They weren’t yours. Your heart dropped significantly.

“How’s this even possible?” you asked, hearing Loki’s voice once again. “Am I—? Did we—?”

“Don’t do anything!” your voice came again, but littered with Loki’s speech pattern. “If you stain that Asgardian leather, I’ll—I’ll—”

“Oh, you’ll what?” you scoffed, standing. “I don’t even know how this happened! I’m surprised you haven’t started running your hands all over me!”

“Oh, please, we’re friends first,” you—Loki—mocked. Tony was staring at the two of you like you were talking about the finest boots to eat. He lifted a finger, but Loki raised a hand to stop him from even trying to speak. “It appears you’ve gotten us into a mess we cannot fix, haven’t you?”

“Will someone else have to change us back?” you asked. You stood, managed to walk over to Loki, and sat down. “I didn’t mean for us to... to...”

“Swapped,” Loki sighed. “We’re swapped. Either it’ll go away on its own or we’ll have to go to Asgard to convince my father to reverse us. How in the Nine did you find such a spell? It shouldn’t even be in the books!”

“Should I leave you two alone, then?” Tony asked. “Since, uh, you’re both acting extremely weird?”

“Yes,” you and Loki chorused. You crossed your arms and Loki mimicked you. Stark left quickly, leaving you two alone in the medical room, where only a blink ago you had been in a completely different room with Loki in his own body and you in yours.

Once he had shut the door, you watched your own body twist with Loki’s mannerisms and expressions. They turned to you and pushed your chest. You scoffed, gasping. “How could you even experiment with such a spell?!” they shouted. “We might be stuck like this forever! You made me mortal!”

“I wanted to swap our perspectives,” you admitted, gulping, “but I didn’t think it would lead to this!”

“What else could it have meant?!” Loki scolded. They put their hands in the air, then dropped them. They began pacing. “I’m stuck in your body! I may have wanted to hold it, but I certainly didn’t want to have it!” 

You bit your lip. “I didn’t want to have your body, either,” you mumbled. “I just wanted you to see how I look at you... I had thought...”

“Thought what? That suddenly I would fall for you? You’re out of luck there, mortal. It wouldn’t have gone the way you wanted it to,” Loki sighed, shaking their head. They sat on the cot where they had awakened from the spell. 

“I didn’t know you knew,” you said meekly. You looked down at your hands. Your heart was racing. It didn’t usually race when you spoke to Loki. The hands that had become yours, hopefully for a short period of time, were long and pale and so different from yours.

“How could I not, little mort—Y/N?” they asked. “It’s almost like watching someone sink into a depression; everyone can see it, but no one talks about it. I know you have feelings for me. I don’t blame you, though.”

“You don’t feel the same, do you?” you asked, sitting down on your cot. Loki shrugged. 

“I didn’t say that. I said I wouldn’t fall for you by seeing myself the way you do.” Loki picked at your nails. “Y/N, we shouldn’t be talking about this now, we should be finding a way to get out of each other’s bodies.”

You huffed a sigh. “We should ask Strange. He knows insane magic, and I doubt if I use your powers anything will change. I already botched this spell.” You laughed but stopped when you heard what it was. It wasn’t your laugh. It was odd. Laughter was determined by one’s body, so it made sense that it wouldn’t have been yours... 

“Oh! Brilliant idea!” Loki praised falsely. Clearly, they must have still been upset about the swapping bodies thing. 

You were disappointed in yourself for it, too. “Can we just go and see him? It’ll take no time at all.”

“He isn’t even home," they sighed, wiping their face with your hand. It was hard to watch. "Why must you be so perfect? Being so adorably shy that you cannot even ask me if I love you back?"

Your heart thumped. No, no. Loki's heart thumped for you. "...Don't mock me while you're in my body. I can still hurt you."

Loki narrowed their eyes. "You wouldn't."

"I so would!" you announced, crossing your arms and jutting your hip out.

"Hurting me goes against loving me, doesn't it?" Loki asked, slightly panicky. "You couldn't draw my blood, could you?"

"I won't draw blood," you promised. "I just have your daggers on my person, and I've never really cared for this stupid Asgardian leather..."

"This is going to be a long time waiting for Strange to be back, isn't it?" Loki groaned. You nodded happily. You scooped your own body to his body's chest.

"Oh, yeah. Swapped, for better or for worse."