#i noticed one thing: before the start of the race chuck almost always turns to roger and says something to him

[reyenii]

roger morris & chuck day

bonus: may and their babygirl

[rebloggingmywaytolesbos]

Coming Out On My Dash, Part Two: We Know

I didn’t know the word Lesbian until I was 12. I had always just said “I like girls.” Even when my mother had tried to explain to me when I was eight that gay people had sex differently, I didn’t understand that there was anything actually different about that. I didn’t know there was anything different about liking girls until I was 12 and Tori’s friends approached me saying that if I kept staring at her from across the gym before class that they’d kick my ass.

That was the year I joined Tumblr. I had been searching Google for Halloween wallpapers for my laptop when I stumbled upon the source of one: it had a .tumblr.com URL, and a little ad floating in the top right that suggested I sign up for an account. I don't remember quite why I decided to do so, but next thing you know, I'm posting content about my favorite bands on a URL forgotten to time.

I posted about the attractive band members, who were, shockingly, men. I posted photos where people commented on their gorgeous long hair, slender frames, sharp faces… very, uh, manly, right? But as I got older and I tried to make myself think of them in the night hours, it didn’t work. That was fine, I thought—I’m just so vainly attracted to my own self that I’m less interested in the reality. I leaned into this: I was attractive, I was sensual, and I was female.

2010 turned into 2011, the year when I began messing around with my girlfriends at sleepovers, cuddling in ways that made us blush. And that was the same year that a girl—who we’ll call Maryanne for her unfortunate privacy—had decided to spread a rumor that I was bisexual.

Maryanne and I were friends, in a way. We were in the same friend group—a total of six of us, all of whom bonded over a mutual love of Harry Potter. But Maryanne and I had never gotten along—to the extent of beating the ever-loving shit out of each other regularly. The beating was me more than her, but she always instigated, almost like she’d wanted me to do it; she never fought back much, and when she did, it was short nails on skin versus a neon green Chuck Taylor to the jaw. Maryanne and I hated each other, and yet, we hung out constantly. We hated each other, but when our other friend (let’s call her Emilia) was around, we behaved, because we knew she wouldn’t tolerate our bickering, and we’d stop time for Emilia if we could.

Maryanne and I were in Chorus together. Not choir, Chorus. We were both altos. I couldn’t really sing—so I thought—but Maryanne was markedly worse than I was. On that fateful Spring day in 2011, I walked into Chorus class as usual, and found my seat at the far left of the room. I was always early, since I didn’t like talking to people in the hallway. As I sat down, I saw a group of girls whisper and point at me from the soprano section. They normally sat behind me in the alto section, but something was going on. I started to notice something was off when more and more people began to gather in the soprano section. Them pointing at me made my neck go hot, but I was used to being bullied enough that I ignored it. Maryanne was pointedly not talking to those girls, but sitting in a seat in the front of the soprano section. An excruciating five minutes passed as my heart began to race, and three of the gossips approached me. The dye-job redhead sat next to me, and in her thick, lisping country accent asked:

“So you’re bi?”

“Uhh… who told you that?” I replied. Shit. That wasn’t denial. A lump came to my throat.

She pointed at Maryanne. I could’ve killed Maryanne right then and there; my mind raced with the thought of launching myself at her, running at her from across the room and tearing into her flesh for what she’d done. And she was clearly fucking gay too I thought. The ultimate betrayal. She was getting back at me for something in the worst way, and she knew it. She was looking away from the drama on my side of the room, likely either ashamed or trying to avoid being found out. Never tell a gossip a secret, Maryanne.

“But so you’re bi?” She pressed.

“No…?” I replied, eyebrow raised and neck out, feigning confusion.

“So you’re straight then?”

“No,” I was incredulous. I leaned back and decided to play it cool, as if I had the upper hand. I was just so popular and attractive that everyone had to know which way I swung, I told myself. My emotions had been swinging like a pendulum to try and cover my tracks.

“Okay so then which is it? Are you bi or are you straight?” (”Neither, fuck, is she stupid?” I thought.)

“Bi, I guess,” I wasn’t in the mood for this anymore.

“Okay but you have to pick one, like which one is it?”

“What? I said bi, I’m bi.”

She leaned in close, “No like… do you like boys or girls.”

Yes, this was my in. The truth will out.

“I like girls,” I said confidently as I fixed my posture in my chair and leaned towards her to intimidate.

The three girls screamed in a beautiful chorus, and the words they shouted were ones I want tattooed on my eyelids: “SHE LIKES GIRLS, HIDE YA BOOTIES!”

I was laughing absolutely maniacally. Maryanne sat across the room with her arms folded, glaring in anger that I didn’t break down crying at her silly little rumor.

I crossed my arms in my chair, leaning back coolly as my heart rate slowed down. Our Chorus teacher, Mrs. M, then walked in, stomping to her desk two rows behind me. She was shouting something about us shouting, and something about the drama, and she was saying my name a lot. it was something about how she didn’t want me in the class if I was going to cause drama. The moment she’d started scolding my head started to swim and my ears rang. My mouth tasted like blood. I remember security being called. I remember shouting “YOU CAN’T KICK ME OUT BECAUSE I’M GAY, I DIDN’T EVEN START THIS, IT’S NOT MY FAULT” as I was forcefully pulled out of the room. Maryanne was crying. I knew she was gay. What have you done, Maryanne? I thought.

I sat in the principal’s office silently.

“So you’re gay.”

Silence.

“You realize we don’t allow that sort of behavior in this school, right?”

Silence.

“You’ve caused quite the ruckus today.”

Silence.

“We’re going to send you to the counselor’s office,”

Sigh of relief.

“And we have to call your parents.”

My face went hot and I shot upright, “No, you can’t, my dad’s at work and my mom can’t walk, we only have one car they won’t be able to—”

My breath hitched as tears caught in my throat, and I dissociated into oblivion. I remember floating through the hallways, watching my friends change classes and look at me sadly or give comforting smiles as the teachers instructed them to not look at me, face ahead, stay in line.

We had gotten a new counselor recently, Mr. B. No one liked him. Everything he said was correct, but came off as disingenuous. I decided as I arrived to the counselor’s office that my sexuality was no one’s fucking business, and I was going to say as much. I don’t even know these people.

I was brought into a large room with teal walls and brown furniture, and a table littered with brochures about domestic violence and cancer support groups. I sat in one of the uncomfortable armchairs as instructed.

“So you’re gay,” Mr. B said the catchphrase of the day.

“And what about it? I don’t understand why any of this matters!” I protested.

I blacked out again, emotionally exhausted.

“We have to call your parents. They need to come up here and get you.”

“Please, please no, you can’t call my parents please they don’t know you can’t tell them, please—” I’d never thought about how my parents may react. My thoughts raced, and in all of a few seconds I remembered that I saw on Tumblr that coming out was scary, and it was even worse when you were found out. I thought my dad might be okay, but my mom, maybe not. I plead and plead until my eyes couldn’t cry anymore. I stood up from the chair and paced the room in hysterics as the principal walked in and called my parents on the clunky landline. I couldn’t hear what my parents were saying as hard as I tried. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. What was happening? I could just run.

My parents eventually arrived. They hadn’t told them what they were there for. My dad had to leave work early and pick up my poor mother, who stood there shaking, cane gripped tight.

The principal sat in the desk chair, Mr. B loitering behind my parents as they stood, and myself posted near the cluttered table of brochures, face red and wanting a tissue more than anything for my stuffed nose.

“Your child is gay.” He said.

I broke into tears, but only as my parents shouted in unison, “WE KNOW!”

“You know?” I cried.

“YES! IT’S REALLY OBVIOUS!” Said my parents, finishing each other’s sentences.

Every memory of me rejecting my mom’s Harry Potter actor crushes suddenly flooded my brain. It wasn’t just that Snape was a man, okay, he looked greasy too.

I sniffled as my tears dried and a headache formed right between my eyebrows. My parents argued with the principal, mad that they were called up to the school “just for that.” I was proud. My parents had always hated the school system.

Somewhere in there, I got suspended. Three days. My mom joked that I was grounded, and that my punishment was coming to see the new Twilight movie with her and gaze at all the boys I didn’t like.

When I came back to school, all my friends were sympathetic, and even people I barely knew said they thought I was cool for standing up for myself. Rumors floated around that I had beaten the gossips up. I should’ve. I should’ve kicked Maryanne’s ass, too. But I didn’t.

It sunk in for me that I was kicked out of Chorus permanently, and suspended all for being gay. Mrs. M had said I was “too much drama.” My math teacher repeated those words as we whispered to each other about what happened. I realized I wasn’t safe. And I decided to give them hell over it. I was going to be loudly gay. I decided not to label anything, either.

“I thought you were bi?”

“No, just gay.”

I didn’t need an explanation.

Maryanne would end up pansexual. Maryanne would also end up outing Emilia, a lesbian. But drama aside, this was the year I learned what it meant to be gay. This was the year I properly joined the gay community on Tumblr. This was the year I learned that I didn’t just “like girls,” I loved girls, and there was a name for that. But I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I was doing something wrong, that I needed to like men in some capacity, even if fictional. Everyone at school said I was bi, right? What if I actually am? And there began a seven year journey wrought with shame.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Do Us Part

Warnings: nonconsent and rape; oral, fingering, marital discord, cheating, spousal arguments and mental/emotional abuse, age gap (Peter is 24/25 and reader is 35/36)

This is dark!Peter Parker x 30s/’older’ reader and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find it hard to accept that not all good things last as you face the changes in your marriage, yourself, and your marriage.

Note: I wanted to write Peter again but also I’ve seen this nonsense about how 30+ writers are too old for fanfic which is dumb af. And I wanted to turn the age gap trope a little so that it wasn’t the reader being the younger one in the relationship. I label it older reader but I don’t think being in your 30s is old tbh (my bf is 36 so pfft). It was all just a conglomeration of circumstances that inspired a deceivingly sweet dark Peter and I hope you like it. Also it’s 7.4k so a bit of a longer read.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You walked slowly along the transparent shelves set into the pristine white walls of the cosmetics section. The department store was a haze of distant voices and the chirp of scanners as customers milled the aisles and waited their turn to check out. You whiled away your time looking at things you’d never buy as you waited for your husband to return from the men’s department.

You thought of the sparse make-up bag under your sink and the liners and shades you hadn’t used in years. They were likely expired and better tossed in the bin. You hovered along the crystal bottle of designer scents and stopped to test a particular blush-tinted fragrance.

You set the bottle back and peered over at the dark cubbies that housed the men’s scent. Even from there, you could catch a whiff of the heady scents as a younger man with reddish brown hair examined an angular vial of Dior Men. You suddenly felt out of place; a mid-thirties woman in her out-of-season clothes fantasizing about overpriced perfume.

Your husband's voice further cemented your reality as you fingered the golden cap of the Coach eau du parfum. Wesley rolled his eyes and flipped up the little plastic panel that hid the bold prices and huffed.

“I hope you don’t think I’m gonna pay for that shit,” he sneered, “what have you been doing? I was waiting for you.”

He waved a plastic bag as his lip curled and you pressed your mouth shut tightly and swallowed. The day began with another argument as he discovered the seared hole in his shirt and instead of blaming the crappy old dryer, he blamed you. Most of your clothes had been chewed up by the thing but you never complained.

“No, I was just… looking,” you teetered in your flats and glanced around. The young man at the corner display quickly turned to hide his nosy observation, “did you find some new shirts?”

“No thanks to you,” he sniffed.

“Oh,” you played with the hem of your tee and tucked your hands into your pockets nervously. You’d left him to look alone as you only seemed to irritate him and rarely took your advice on matters of clothing, “well, I thought I’d give you some space--”

“Stop acting so pathetic. Start taking responsibility for yourself. For god’s sake, you're almost thirty-six and you don’t know how to hang a shirt to dry?” He spun on his heel and snapped over his shoulder, “let’s go.”

You flinched but followed behind him as he strode away and you stumbled out behind him through the automatic doors. He tossed the bag into the back seat and slammed the door before flopping angrily into the driver’s side. You mirrored him daintily and squeezed your legs together as you tried to make yourself as small as you could.

“I told you about the dryer,” you said.

“And?” he started the engine and slapped his hand around the wheel, “call a fucking electrician or some shit.”

“Alright,” you shrugged as he stopped at the exit of the parking lot and checked his phone quickly.

“Benny wants to do a round of golf,” he peeled out and you grasped the door as your heart raced. You hated how reckless he was when he was angry. You hated how easily he got angry these days.

“Okay,” you picked at the fraying stitching of your purse.

“Don’t start moping,” he sneered, “I fucking work all week and I can’t go out and have a few rounds?”

“I never-- I didn’t say anything,” you murmured.

“You don’t need to,” he turned the wheel sharply as he cut off another car, “you sit at home all day and do what?”

“I work too,” you said.

“Uh huh, sure, if that’s what you call it.”

You ran your fingertip over the bleach stain on the knee of your jeans and said nothing. When he was in a mood, he would latch on anything until he outright exploded. You tried to think of when he changed, when he had stopped being the chill guy you met back in college. It felt like a slow trickle, small things you ignored until it was a mountain you could not see past.

You felt like crying but you’d stopped that a while ago. You existed in a purgatory of acceptance and helplessness. You wanted him to love you again, wanted to believe you could fix things. So you would keep trying. You would do better.

💍 

You picked out a large flank of steak and winced at the price. You had a special dinner in mind. It was Friday and the work week was done. You wanted a weekend without a fight and Wesley was always one for a nice big cut of beef. You hadn’t made him one in a while, your dinners were the usual repetitive drumsticks and rice or your homemade mac and cheese.

You continued onto the fish section and grabbed some salmon for yourself. You’d gained some weight and decided to cut out dairy and red meat if you could help it. The pile of produce in your cart reminded you of the extra jiggle around your stomach and thighs. You also grabbed one of those women’s magazines that advertised a regimen to help slim your figure. You only hoped you could stick to it this time.

With your weekly haul in tow, you wheeled up to the check-out and waited behind a young man who looked oddly familiar to you. Maybe that was the passing years. You always felt a vague glimmer of deja vu, more often a sense of forlorn nostalgia of what you would never have again.

As you stared thoughtlessly, he looked over and smiled. He bent in front of your cart and picked up a thin packet of seasoning. 

“You dropped this,” he said as he held it out and you thanked him before quickly snatching it and looking away. 

He paid for his large bags of chips and over salted pre-packaged meals and packed up at the end as you loaded up your own goods, the cashier sending them down the parallel belt. You swiped your card and tried to calculate the chunk of money from your last check. You thanked the clerk and sidled past the young man as he finished up.

You rounded the counter as he lifted his three bags. You looked up without thinking, the sleeve of his shirt tight around his bicep. You caught yourself staring and looked back down as you packed in the cans. 

It reminded you of Wesley; he’d also started being more mindful, he hit the gym after work and you noticed the little pudge that started just after he turned thirty was slimming out. It was that exact reason that made you notice the extra pounds on your own frame, not that you didn’t realise before.

The man left and you unfolded the little buggy you slid under the cart. You loaded your bags into it and dragged the cart behind you as you made an awkward exit with both wheeled trolleys. The compact fabric buggy was easy enough to fit on the bus if you stood.

You pushed the cart into the row of empty ones and continued across the parking lot. You rolled up to the bus shelter and checked the bus times on your phone. You dug out your strip of tickets and ripped one away. You leaned on the thin handle of your trolley and looked over your shoulder as you heard someone approach.

The man who checked out ahead of you put his bags on the metal bench inside the shelter as he sipped on a bright drink from the place just beside the grocery shop. He sent you a smile over his straw and you spun back to crane your head and search for the bus.

When the metal beast barreled up and cranked to a stop at the curb, the man waited behind you and as your wheels caught on the edge of the ramp, he reached around you and helped push it over the lip. You thanked him shyly and continued up. Usually you tried to keep the shop light on weekdays but you hadn’t really been paying attention.

You pushed your cart against the small barrier just behind the accessible seating and stood beside it, conscious not to take up too much space. The man stood just behind you two bags on one shoulder and the other dangling from the opposite elbow as he sucked on his straw. You grabbed the upright bar as the bus took off and watched the electronic banner for your stop.

A sharp stop had you veering back and you were caught by the young man as he chucked, “oop, you okay?”

“Yes, thank you,” you muttered and gave a sheepish smile over your shoulder.

“There’s a seat,” he gestured just behind you, “I’ll watch your stuff.”

“Um, no it’s… fine,” you gripped the bar tighter as the bus shuttled forward, “my stop is soon.”

You looked ahead of you and three stops passed before yours. You exited through the front with your buggy and headed down the sidewalk as the bus pulled away. You were exhausted just from your little sojourn and it wasn’t even two o’clock. God, you felt old.

💍

You had a salad chopped and tossed and the steak and fish laid out and seasoned. As you listened to your old Spotify list, the music dipped and the notification blipped over the screen. You washed your hands and grabbed the phone. You frowned as you read the lone message from Wesley, the only one you got from him all day.

‘Just finished at the gym, getting drinks with Andrew,’ you read and re-read the message as your heart fell.

You typed out a whole angry response and backspaced it all. You replaced it with ‘ok, have fun’ and blacked the screen. You shoved the meat back in the fridge and stretched saran wrap over the bowl of salad. You placed it on a lower shelf and closed the door, quickly swiping a can of the craft beer Wesley kept around.

You shut the light off in the kitchen and ignored the pang in your stomach as you cracked the can. You climbed the stairs as you sipped the hoppy foam. You put it on the night table and changed into the old butterfly pajamas you wore most nights and turned on the tv mounted against the wall. 

You turned on Netflix but hardly paid attention to the carelessly chosen movie. You sat against the headboard and down the bitter beer until the can was hollow and your eyelids were heavy. You slumped down so that your shoulders were at your ears and dozed off in the stiff position as the room moved with the colours of the television. 

The anger and alcohol shaded your shallow sleep and you hardly heard Wesley when he came in, only waking when your bladder was ready to burst and his snores rumbled in your head. You went to the bathroom and returned, wide awake, and stared at the shape of him in the dark.

You remembered when he used to kiss you when he came home, even when you were asleep, he’d wake you with the little pecks. You remembered when he was happy to come home. You remembered when you were happy. 

You swallowed the acrid aftertaste of beer and left him to snore. You went downstairs and curled up on the couch but didn’t sleep. You just stared at the shadows of the furniture until the sun rose.

💍

The next day, Wesley didn’t wake until after noon and when he did, he didn’t say a word to you. He took his coffee and sat at the patio table in the back as you stewed and cleaned the kitchen. You had nothing to say to him even if you felt stupid for being mad.

“Gotta head down to the dealership,” he said as he interrupted your scouring of the stove.

“The dealership?” you said after a moment, deciding whether or not to break your vow of silence.

“I told you on Wednesday, I’m picking up the car--”

“We talked about this. We should wait a little longer--”

“It’s my money and I got a great price,” he sighed, “just because you have to pinch your pennies--”

“We’re married,” you squeezed the foam sponge, “it’s our money. Don’t act like I don’t pay for anything around here.”

“Oh thanks, honey, so wonderful you paid for a five dollar steak,” he scoffed, “I’ll be impressed when you can make a mortgage payment on your own.”

“How dare you!” you turned your back to him and kept scrubbing, “fine, but not a penny of my money is going to that thing.”

“That’s fine, I’m selling the old one, that should cover most of it--”

“What?” you slammed your hand between the burner, “you said we would hold onto it so I had something to--”

“Then you can buy it from me,” he said venomously.

“I’m your wife,” you spun to scowl at him again, “I-- what is wrong with you?”

He tilted his head and squinted as he poked his tongue out along his lip. “Nothing wrong with me,” he shrugged, “what’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t--” you warned as you pointed a finger at him through the bright yellow gloves, “don’t do that… I’ve been trying and you just keep pushing me away.”

“Me pushing you away?” he rolled his eyes, “you were passed out last night when I got home. Maybe if you didn’t fall asleep before nine I could actually fuck you… or at least get it up if you worked on losing some of that cellulite on your ass.”

Your lip quivered and you sucked in a breath. You shook your head and turned around again. You ignored him as your hand shook and you continued your work, scratching at the dried-on food around the burner. His empty mug clinked onto the counter and you listened to his exit.

Fuck him and his new car. You were done trying with him.

💍

Wesley’s new car was shrouded in the shade of the garage as the old black Hyundai sat out on the driveway with a red and white “For Sale” sign on the windshield. Right after he got back from his extravagant purchase, he made the listing online and several perusers stopped by Saturday night but Sunday morning saw the car still there.

You sat by the border of stones around the garden as he drank beer in the garage and approached any interested buyers who appeared; although so far he’d only had two before noon.

You tucked your clippers into your apron pocket and dusted off your gloves as you stood. You were a little dizzy from sitting out in the sun and a glass of water was the perfect excuse to drown out the annoying sound of your husband’s voice.

You ignored Wesley as you trod through the garage and kicked your sneakers off on the mat right before the three steps up to the house. You went to the kitchen and put your gloves on the counter as you filled a glass from the dispenser on the front of the fridge. You’d given up everything but water and the slices of lemon were the only flavour you had.

You took the glass and your gloves and headed back. Wesley waited just at the bottom of the stairs as he glared up at you with arms crossed. You sighed and descended but he didn’t let you pass.

“What is your problem?”

“Are you really asking me that?” you hissed.

“You giving me the silent treatment isn’t gonna fix this,” he snarled.

“You know what you said so… I shouldn’t have to tell you to apologize,” you retorted and he stayed put.

“Is this about the car?”

“The car is just another thing,” you cross an arm around your stomach, “you think I couldn’t use it to get around, to get the groceries maybe? Or, I don’t know, maybe since you have such a problem with my home office, I could go out and get a ‘big girl’ job as you put it so many times--”

“Your mother has a car she never drives. You can just take her with you, two birds, one stone. I need to sell this to pay for the new one--”

“The one I begged you not to buy,” you huffed, “you could’ve waited a few more years until we were a little more comfortable--”

“Oh, wait? Until we have a kid and all my money goes to it,” he snapped, “yeah, I’m sure we’d have the money then--”

“You’d have to fuck to do that,” you stepped down the last step and pushed past him.

As you came into the sunlight and shielded your eyes, a figure stood by the garden, knelt just by your tulips as he felt the soft petals. You narrowed your eyes. You recognized him for sure. It was the stranger from the bus.

“Um, hi?” you croaked as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Hey, it’s… you again,” he chuckled softly as he stood, “I saw an ad for a car and… well, I’m getting tired of the bus.”

“Oh, uh, my husband,” you pointed over your shoulder, “you’ll have to talk to him.”

“Okay,” he smiled, “Peter,” he held out his hand and you stared at it. You introduced yourself and shook his firm grip.

“Like I said, it’s my husband selling the car,” you brushed by him and got to your knees by the flowerbed. “Unless you’re looking to buy some wilting pansies.”

“Hmm, I like the tulips better,” he said as he slowly inched away, “thanks.”

You sat back on your heels and he strode over to the open garage. You heard Wesley greet him and didn’t bother paying attention to the same pitch you’d heard all morning. You pulled on your gloves and wiggled your nose as it tingled. You really just wanted to keel over and bawl.

“Sold,” Wesley announced and you heard a clap, “all yours!”

“I’ll just transfer the deposit,” Peter said and a minute passed before he emerged again, the keys hanging from his finger, “Thanks, Wes.”

You hid your distaste. It used to be that Wesley hated being called ���Wes’ but lately, he introduced himself to everyone as just ‘Wes’. He really had changed. You must have too.

“Hey,” you looked up and blinked as the sun made your eyes water as it shone around Peter.

“You bought it?” you asked as you yanked free a weed.

“Yep, but uh,” he glanced over his shoulder as the old car stereo Wesley used blared out a classic rock tune, “I… wasn’t eavesdropping but I heard some of it and… if you ever need a ride to the grocery store, I usually try for Wednesdays,” he tucked his hand in his pocket, “I don’t live too far and since we go to the same one--”

“No, no, you don’t have to do that,” you looked back to the soil, embarrassed.

“Well, if you change your mind,” he kept the keys dangling from one finger and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and slid out a card with some effort, “I’m supposed to have these handy but I never really use them.”

He offered the business card and you read his name above the title, ‘senior photographer’. You gave a half-hearted smile and put it in your apron pocket.

“Thanks,” you said, “I can manage.”

“You don’t have to though,” he said kindly, “but I’ll, uh, leave you to your gardening. Sorry if I bugged you.”

“You didn’t,” you assured without looking up, flattered that anyone cared enough to even offer help.

“Hey, Pete,” Wesley stopped Peter as he neared the car, “you can have one before you go.”

“Oh, no, I’m gonna be driving,” Peter argued.

“Pfft, it’s a celebration and one won’t put you over the limit,” Wesley insisted and handed him a dark bottle of craft brew, “come on.”

“I really should go--”

“It’s a Sunday, where do you need to be?” Wesley patted his shoulder and looked over at you, “hey, honey, you wanna see if we have any snacks for our guest?”

“I’m not hungry,” Peter said curtly, “really. Just the beer is fine.”

They disappeared back into the garage and you cringed. You hated that. Wesley only every acted like a husband when others were around.

💍

You waited a whole week before returning to the grocery store. You were short on everything and it was a reason to get out of the house. Your husband had made both your home and your workplace hostile.

It irked you that Wesley resented you working from home when a couple years ago he was so happy about it. Then, he’d been so enthusiastic about starting a family but when it didn’t happen right away, he grew disillusioned and bitter. Now, he seemed to have no interest in being a husband let alone a father.

As you packed up your spinach and bottles of Perrier, your cart rolled just a little as someone nudged it from the other end. You raised your head and hid your surprise and discomfort as Peter smiled back at you.

“I thought you said Wednesdays,” you murmured as you dropped a bag in your cart.

“I forgot eggs,” he held up the carton, “I guess I have good timing.”

“You do?” you asked as you pulled your cart forward and maneuvered around to push it out of the way of fellow shoppers. You bent to grab your trolley from beneath and he caught it as you unfolded it.

“I’ll drive you,” he said.

“I told you--”

“I’m here so why not? Save the ticket for next time,” he urged.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why does it matter? Why do I matter to you?” you asked.

“I don’t know, I… like helping people,” he shrugged, “what if I told you you were helping me? I have this horrible need to be the hero.”

“That will go away,” you muttered under your breath and he lifted a brow, “sorry, I… thank you.”

“Alright, let’s go then,” he collapsed the trolley and carried it easily under his arm as he cradled his eggs in the other, “I got the A/C fixed on the car too.”

“Mmm,” you hummed and walked with him out of the store. 

You crossed the parking lot and helped you load up the bags in the trunk. That car should have been yours; you’d made enough payments on it yourself but Wesley was such a stubborn ass.

You sat in the front seat as he slid into the other and started the car. He drove cautiously through the lot and you read the store signs as he came to the exit.

“How long have you and… the old man been together?”

“Um,” you glanced over at him and chewed your lip, “since college so… almost fifteen years now.”

“Fifteen?” he turned out onto the street, “really? I thought he was older than you.”

“Christ,” you scoffed, “don’t flatter me.”

“Really, I woulda said twenty-eight at most,” he said coolly, “wow, I feel so young now.”

“And I feel so old,” you grumbled as you crossed your legs, hoping he didn’t notice the wrinkle in the pink capris.

“Whatever, you’re not even forty,” he said, “and time has treated you well so I can only think in a few years… oh jeez, sorry, that came off weirder than I intended. Not that I meant for it to be weird at all--”

You giggled at his rambling as he rolled to a stop at the sign and peeked over at you in the rearview. You caught his eye and quickly looked away, “what?”

“Just… you have a nice smile,” he said as he turned down a side street, “and a nice laugh.”

“Thank you,” your voice was brittle at the genuine compliment, “you’re funny.”

“Am I? I wasn’t trying to be,” he took the same short cut you took when you walked home from the convenience store which was closer than the plaza.

“And nice,” you said as he came onto your street, “you really didn’t have to drive me. You could’ve dropped me at the corner--”

“No way, I was raised better than that, and if you think I’m letting you carry that all in by yourself--”

“Raised to help little old ladies?” you mused.

“Raised to treat ladies properly,” he corrected, “especially pretty ones.”

“I’m married,” your heart pattered as you dared to flirt back, almost in disbelief that he was humouring you, “and your lies don’t work on me, young man.”

“Not that young,” he insisted as he pulled into the driveway.

You got out and went around to the trunk. He handed you the bag with the bread and other light products, and loaded up with the other bags.

“You get the doors, let me do the heavy work,” he said and nodded you towards the house.

You went ahead of him and unlocked the door. You let him inside and pointed him into the kitchen. He placed the bags on the counter and stretched his arms and hands as you set yours on the other side. The muscles of his arms moved under his skin and you could trace the lines of his torso through his grey tee.

“So,” he took out the bottle of Perrier, “this going in the fridge?”

“What-- you’ve done enough.”

“Fridge?” he ignored you and pulled out the other.

You gave a long blink and threw up your hands in surrender, “yes, please,” you came around and reached in to grab the whole grain buns, “bottom shelf.”

You finished unpacking your groceries and took the empty bags from Peter and shoved them under the counter. You stood and looked at him nervously as he watched you, his fingers tapping on the granite.

“Do you want a snack? Something to drink? Water?”

“I’ll have a water,” he said and moved to leaned his elbow on the countertop, his side snug to the edge.

“Sparkling or--”

“Regular’s fine,” he answered

“Ice? Lemon?” you pulled out a tall glass.

“Just ice is fine… then I’ll be out of your hair,” he said.

Ice clinked into the glass and you covered it with the distilled water from the fridge. You slid it onto the counter and stepped back.

“Oh, I… actually, it’s a good thing I ran into you,” he said and took a sip, “my aunt, she likes to garden too but she got some bulbs she’s not gonna use, I thought maybe… maybe you would like some to fill in the holes?”

“What kind?” you asked.

“Some daffodils and some crocuses, I think,” he said, “I could bring them over next week after work?”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” you scrunched your lips, “you could probably just give them to a neighbour.”

“It’s not out of the way,” he said, “you want them?”

You stared at him and thought. He was nice. Too nice.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing, I… I’m sure you have a girlfriend you could be spending time with--”

“I don’t. Not anymore,” he interrupted.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, “I didn’t--”

“Like I said, I always wanna be the good guy,” he finished his water and the last of the cubes settled at the bottom, “thanks.”

“No, thank you,” you said as he set his glass in the sink and backed away, “really, you made my day so much easier.”

“I hope your weekend is better,” he said, “but…”

He didn’t finished and you folded your hands together as he hesitated by the hallway.

“But what?” you prodded.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, “nothing. I should go.”

“Okay,” you rubbed the back of your neck, “see ya.”

“Monday,” he confirmed as he turned to the doorframe, “I’ll bring the bulbs. Just after seven.”

“Right,” you slanted your lips and watched him go.

The door marked his departure and you turned to exhale and lean against the counter. You could still smell his rich cologne. Then you felt guilty. It was stupid to think he was doing anything more than being nice, that the flirting was anything but a joke, but still, you missed feeling that way and it should’ve been Wesley making you feel that.

💍

You squeezed the phone as you clenched your jaw so tight it hurt. Your eyes were wet and finally the tears were ready to start falling. The smell of steak filled the kitchen, another meal you wouldn’t eat. At the last minute, Wesley texted to tell you he was hitting the gym. Again. He was already late after a long meeting but promised he’d be home to eat.

So you waited for him to answer your furious phone call but got his voicemail instead. Your eyes narrowed at the bottle of wine and your chest knotted as the tone sounded.

“Wesley, this is it. I can’t do this anymore! I’m your wife. Do you even want to be with me? I can’t go on like this and now you won’t even answer my calls,” you snarled. You knew he had his phone on him as he no doubt had his Spotify work-out list on shuffle, “when you come home, you can sleep on the couch.”

You hung up and grabbed a stemmed glass from the cupboard. You filled it to the brim with Pinot Grigio but before you could taste it, the doorbell made you jump. You set down the glass and walked up the hallway. Just on the other side of the frosted glass was a silhouette. You opened the door and touched your forehead as you faced Peter.

“I totally forgot you were coming,” you breathed, “I’m so sorry. But thank you, you really didn’t have to--”

“Are you okay?” he asked as the paper bag in his hand crinkled.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I… thank you for the flowers,” you looked at the brown paper bag and he handed it over, another bag on his wrist; white with ribbon handles, “what’s that? You headed out for a date?”

“Um, no,” he said, “actually, I was just…” he pushed his fingers through his hairs, the reddish brown locks slightly curled with sweat, “I wanted to talk to you.” He looked past you and his warm eyes returned to yours, “Wesley isn’t home yet?”

“No, he won’t be for a while,” you backed up, “so you might as well come in. I have a steak no one’s gonna eat.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t be,” Peter said glumly, “and steak sounds good.”

He closed the door behind him and followed you into the kitchen. You put the bulbs at the back of the counter and grabbed the bottle, “wine?”

“No thank you,” he said.

You plunked down the bottle and took a gulp of your wine before you turned to plate the steak and your chicken breast alongside the fried asparagus and roasted potatoes. You set the filet before him as he sat on the stool and climbed up across from him at the long island.

“Thank you,” he watched you slide a steak knife and fork towards him and his gaze lingered on your lips as you took another thirsty mouthful, “this is for you, actually.”

He pushed the white bag over to you and you smelled the subtle floral scent rising from it. You put your glass down and pushed open the top of the bag and peeked inside. You shook your head and rescinded your hand as if you were slapped. It was the same perfume from that day weeks ago.

“You… how?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked.

You thought back on the day you wanted to forget. He was the other shopper in the perfume section, the one who sent you that sympathetic look as Wesley reproached you. You winced and grabbed your utensils. You cut into the chicken and shoved it in your mouth. You swallowed loudly.

“Take it back,” you sniffed, “I don’t want it. I don’t deserve it.”

“You do. He doesn’t deserve you,” he carefully sliced into the medium rare steak.

“Is that what this is? Some perverted joke? A challenge?” you dropped your fork and knife, “you think you can seduce the sad housewife and then laugh at it? Sow your wild oats?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” he calmly put down the silverware, “I… what I didn’t say when I showed up is I just came from the gym.”

You frowned in confusion and wrinkled your nose. You took another drink of wine as you tried to understand.

“I saw Wesley,” he said as he leaned on his elbow and pulled out his phone with his other hand, “I didn’t wanna say anything but… you’re here beating yourself up over him and-- just look.”

He slid his phone across the counter and you looked at the screen. Your entire body felt heavy and your veins filled with ice. You dropped your head into your hands as you tried to wipe the sight from your eyes; the image of your husband groping a woman in yoga pants, an act she wasn’t deterring.

“I knew it,” you sobbed as the tears burst forth and leaked down your palms, “I knew it. And why wouldn’t he? I’m old, ugly--” you sniffed and pulled your hands away to wipe them on your pants. Peter held out a paper towel and you took it as you avoided his eyes, “thank you but I think you should go. I’m humiliated enough.”

“You shouldn’t be alone,” he said as he climbed down from the stool and rounded the island, “he’s an asshole. He’s blind.”

“Please, Peter, just leave me alone,” you slid off the stool and he caught your shoulders. You looked up at him as you dabbed away the streaks of sadness with the paper towel, “Peter--”

“I’m not leaving,” he said firmly, “he’s out there having his fun, so why don’t you have some of your own?”

“Peter, that’s-- that’s wrong. I’m too old for you. And… I’m fat and--”

“You’re perfect,” he reached up to frame your chin with his hand, “you’re gorgeous,” his other hand trailed down your arm and to your hip, “that’s the first thing I noticed about you…” he pulled you closer and tapped your ass lightly.

“No, I can’t-- I just want to be alone,” you pushed on his arms and felt the thick biceps as he flexed and kept you close.

“Well, baby, what I want,” he turned you so that you were pinned between him and the island, “is for you to put on that perfume… I want you wearing nothing but that.”

“Peter,” you pushed on his chest that time and the hard muscle wall didn’t budge, “Peter, go--”

“Baby,” he bent and scooped you up suddenly. 

His hands spread over your ass as he lifted you and crushed his lips against yours. You murmured in surprise and he placed you on the granite countertop. He parted from your lips as you sat up and he shoved your legs apart, inserting himself between your knees. He played with the bottom of the dress you’d worn in hopes of rekindling your dying marriage.

“We can go slow,” he tickled along your thighs and pulled back suddenly, “just a little at a time.” 

He leaned in as he reached around you and grabbed the small white bag. He pulled out the perfume and snaked his hand around your neck. He pulled you to bend over him and he kissed your neck just before he sprayed a puff of perfume across your throat. He stood back and took a deep breath. He put the bottle on the counter and his hands went back to your skirt.

“Peter,” you caught his hands as they crept under the fabric, “please.”

You tried to slide forward and he stopped you as he grasped your hips and held you in place. He bit his lip as his eyes glimmered up at you. He drew a hand away and took the glass of wine and held it before your mouth.

“Drink, relax,” he cooed, “forget about him.”

You stared at him and he brought your hand up with his and wrapped it around the full body of the glass. He nudged it to your lips and watched you until you drank from the crystal rim. He smirked and lifted your skirt as he bent to bury his head beneath the folds.

You gulped and choked on the wine as your skirt fluttered down over his shoulders. You felt his finger on the lace trim of your panties and winced. He squeezed your thighs with his other hand and nuzzled the crotch of your underwear. You tried to close your legs but he kept them apart easily.

He curled his fingers under the elastic of your panties and tugged. He pulled until you lifted your ass just enough for him to get them free and he guided them down your legs before quickly parting them again.

You set down the glass and almost overturned it, the last mouthful splashing up the side. You pressed your hands to the granite and peered down at the shape of his head beneath your skirt. You gasped as his cool tongue grazed your warm folds and delved deeper.

“Peter…” you wisped and closed your eyes as you tried to hide from your own shame.

He purred as his tongue flicked over your clit and you twitched. He caressed the crease of your thigh with his fingers as he lapped at your, his other hand pressed against your stomach until you fell back across the counter. You arched your back instinctively and his hand cupped your tit through your dress.

He blindly pulled until your chest slipped out and pushed the cup of your bra as he teased your clit with his tongue. He felt along your cunt with his fingers and shoved his index inside of you. You moaned as he pushed another inside and curled them as he suckled on your bud.

Your core burned to life. Your entire being was set alight after months without affection. You quivered in delight and fear. Your nerves stormed both out of guilt and hunger. It felt so good but you knew it was wrong. The scent of the perfume filled your nose as your skin grew hot.

He moved his hand in time with his mouth as he doted on you. His touch intensified as your legs bent around the side of the island and your fingernails dragged along the granite, your voice rising without thought. He pinched your nipple and you cried out as you came in a wave of sheer pleasure and grabbed his wrist as you tried to steady yourself.

He eased off slowly as you trembled in the afterglow, his lingering touch tickled along your legs as he pushed your dress up. He pulled you to sit up and lifted the fabric over your head and ripped your sleeves free from your arms. He tossed as side the garment and swiftly covered your mouth with his so you tasted your own arousal on his tongue.

He unhooked your bra blindly and slid it off your arms. You were intensely aware of your nakedness and as you brought your arms up to cover yourself, he forced them down and ran his hands over your bare torso. 

“Beautiful,” he said as he laid a trail of gentle pecks along your throat and chest, pausing to take a nipple in his mouth as he rolled the other between his fingers and sent a shiver through you.

He kneaded your sides and hips, his fingers danced along your thighs and he followed the path with his mouth, kissing and nipping your flesh. He lifted his head again as he took your hands and twined his fingers through yours. He tugged you gently until you slid off the counter and landed on your feet shakily.

“Baby, you’re so amazing,” he placed your hands on his chest and pushed them down his muscled torso and brought them back up beneath his tee shirt, “go on.”

He let you go and you continued to roll up his tee. He dipped his head and raised his arms to help you and you clung to the tee as it fell limp in your grasp. Dazed, he snatched the shirt from your hands and flung it. He once more pressed your hands to his chest and guided you in feeling the lines of his toned flesh.

He pushed your hands against the top of his jeans and leaned into you. He kissed your temple and whispered along your hairline, “turn around, baby.” He squeezed your ass and purred, “mmmm, please, I wanna see that ass.”

You blinked, dazed, and spun slowly. You caught yourself on the edge of the counter as your legs trembled and you heard the subtle zip. He kicked his foot between yours and pushed your legs apart as he led you back so that you were slightly bent against the island. He ran his nails down your back and gripped your hip with one hand as his other drew away from your skin.

You flinched as you felt his smooth tip against your ass and he rubbed it between your cheeks. You inhaled and held in your breath as his hold on your tightened and he angled his dick under your ass and grazed your cunt. He poked your entrance and pressed his chest to your back as his hand covered yours on the granite.

He slid into you and your voice fizzled in the air as he forced the air from your lungs. You pushed your head back and it met his shoulder as his other hand crawled down your front. He spread your folds with his fingers and swirled another around your clit as he tilted his hips and thrust into you slowly.

“Ah, Peter,” you slapped the counter and he shushed you as his hand left yours cold and his fingers stretched over your throat.

His motion picked up as the noise of him crashing into you echoed around the kitchen. Your eyes rolled back as he rammed into you even harder. You were on tiptoes as he was driven by the weak moans that leaked from your lips and your wet pleasure squelched around him. He pressed two fingers to your bud and rubbed until you squeaked and your thighs quaked around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, “I bet you never cum like that for him.”

You whined and he sped up again. He pinned you against the counter so that the lip pressed into your stomach. He took his hand from your cunt and pushed your head down as he kept his other hand around your neck. He didn’t waver once as he fucked you.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he commanded, “I want you to cum again for me. I know you want to too.”

His thick breath warmed the air and grazed your back as he held you down and his hold on your neck tightened until silver stars rose in your vision. Your feet dangled against the tile and you reached down to play with your clit as it buzzed. It was only seconds before you were murmuring in ecstasy once more.

“Fuck, baby, can you feel that? The way your clinging to me,” he puffed as he slammed into you over and over, “he can hardly fill you, can he? Hmmm? Little man.”

You wheezed as he choked you and his other hand kept your head pinned. You heard a distant creak but could barely do more than keep your fingers moving as your heartbeat deafened you. You came again and croaked as your cunt squeezed him hungrily.

“What the fuck?” the voice broke your lusty trance and suddenly you were pulled away from the counter.

Your head lulled as Peter held it up and turned you around, his pelvis slapping against your ass as you faced your husband. Your mouth hung open as your blurred vision barely registered the scene and the deep grunts only got louder behind you.

“Look who’s here,” Peter rasped as he snaked his arm around you.

“The fuck are you doing?” Wesley sneered as your eyes closed and your ass rang with each thrust.

“What you can’t,” Peter snickered, “doesn’t she look so happy?” He grasped your chin and pushed his fingers into your mouth as he held your head up, “well, you into watching or you gonna let us finish, old man?”

[knpjpr]

fucked up. | jjk sm au

⇆series: #fake

⇆main ship: gamer!jungkook x student!reader

⇆genre: angst, angst, and angst and then some fluff

⇆word count: 4.5K (unedited)

⇆warnings: theres cussing, unprotected sex, (wrap it up smh.) riding, dirty talk, tension between yn and jungkook, slut shaming, taehyung x lou ;), taejoon friendship confirmed, jimin and yoongi fight, jungkook and yn fight, everyone is messy tbh

⇆ a/n: if you'd like to be added to the taglist, send me an ask + time stamps are in this part for a reason

Yn ; October 31th | 11:21 pm

The minute you and Lou are entering the house, everything is in full swing. People scattered all around, some at the bar table filling their cups with whatever type of booze they could, others dancing, playing beer pong, and much more that you knew Jin would throw a fit about later.

Lou is parting ways with you, automatically walking her way to the booze table and pushing some guy you’ve never seen over as you make yourself home to a space on the couch. Lou looked pretty, just like your dark angel costume, she’d placed herself in a white version, the curve of her body showing nicely. She was indeed a pretty angel.

Taehyung is the second person who you see tonight, walking up to you with the same smile you’ve known since fifth grade. “Care if I join you?” He’s noticeably a vampire, the corners of his mouth leaked with fake blood as his red contacts contrast with the costume.

“Sure, Lou went and ditched me… as usual.”

He’s laughing, the only sound that made you feel comfortable in this crowded house full of people you’ve seen but never made the time to get to know. The two of you had finally been able to talk after a long time and it was nice. You and Taehyung were good friends and you hoped it stayed that way.

“I like your costume.” He says, taking a quick glance over at your outfit, but deciding that if he looked any further it would make you uncomfortable.

You’re smiling at him this time, settling into the party as your side tucks into his. “You want something to drink?” Nodding slowly, Taehyung is standing up and walking towards the bar table.

It had been a few minutes of you sitting there when you decided to walk around the place. Loud music with people’s chatter to overlap with it. You easily are swinging past bodies, trying to find Taehyung’s figure who wasn’t at the bar table any more. It wasn’t until you feel a hand on your shoulder when you are close by the backyard sliding doors that you stop. “Hey.”

You turn and there Jungkook is, red solo cup in hand, and a smile placed on his face as your heart pounds. He looks hot, black hood over his head with clown makeup decorating his face, his jeans ripped like always. His costume was simple, but even so, still made your heart race.

He had been waiting to see you all night, got here early due to Namjoon’s request to get out the house and help, and so seeing you here made his heart happy, made him happy.

He’s taking a long glance down your body, swallowing hard when he notices that you aren't wearing alot to cover your figure, parts of your body like your cleavage and thighs on full display to him. “Like what you see?” You tease as he frowns down at you, which has you laughing, unintentionally placing your hand on his chest.

His gaze softens the minute your touch is all he feels. “Why don’t we go somewhere quieter?” He asks, watching as you move closer to him every time someone pushes past you. “Sure, follow me.” You say as you slip your hand into his and start leading him past others, not noticing the blush that rises on your cheeks.

Namjoon ; October 31th | 11:37 pm

Namjoon was a tall.. a little too tall handsome guy, to which he had found out by the longing glances he would get from girls and even so guys. This was not his usual thing, never had himself at a party so he was determined to find someone he knew and hang with them for the majority of the night.

Slipping past a few people, he’s coming into sight of Taehyung, choppy brown hair displaying in messy waves as a red solo cup had been accompanying him for the night. Namjoon is walking up to him, dimples on full display, which has Taehyung splitting his gaze from something to him in an instant. “Yo dude, like your costume.”

Namjoon did not plan to go all out for this simple halloween party, and seeing as Jin told him that it was a costume party, he opted to dress up as his future career. He wore a bright orange nasa jumpsuit, one that his mom bought him per his request. He wanted to be an astronaut and sure hell this kid could do it.

“Thanks.” Namjoon takes a seat beside Taehyung, finally realizing that his attention wasn’t on the 5’11 tall ass guy seated next to him, but rather on a shorter girl who’s doe eyes were scanning around the kitchen.

Namjoon recognized her almost instantly, didn't even have to question it by the way Taehyung is sighing hard. “When has she looked that pretty, and why am I just realizing this.” He blurts, Namjoon not knowing if he’s talking to him or to the air that this party didn’t have enough of.

“Why don’t you talk to her?” Taehyung cocks his head in Namjoons direction, an unrecognizable look on his face. He had been watching her the minute he assumed you found Jungkook, his gaze not being able to falter at all from her direction.

“I don’t know man, I don’t want to fuck up our friendship.” Taehyung admits, he didn’t know whatever the feeling that he felt right now was. But he did know if he were to explore it, he could possibly fuck it all up.

“Well, you never know. That’s why they are called “leaps of faith,” namjoon shifts in his spot on the couch, watching as the girl they had been looking at is startly approached by another figure. “You never know. If you don’t go, others will.”

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice, getting up from his seat the minute the girl’s face crinkles in uncomfortableness at the other unknown guy. Taehyung didn’t know what would come out of him and Lou, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t ignore how he felt at that moment.

Jimin ; November 1st | 12:03 pm

If there was one thing Jimin knew, it was that costumes at Halloween parties are not mandatory. He very much disliked dressing up in some tacky costume, like a couple who had just walked past him as a firefighter and a dalmation. Fucking lame.

Instead, Jimin dressed hot, dressed in clothes that he wore all the time, but for Yoongi, it made his heart pound and Jimin knew that. Could tell all just by the way Yoongi would take long glances the whole ride to Jin’s and would constantly suck in air the minute Jimin is softly brushing against him.

Jimin had been seated on one of the bar stools in the den of Jin’s house, carefully watching as Jin and Yoongi go at it in a round of beer pong. Yoongi was losing terribly, his attention too intertwined with the blonde that was sitting comfortably behind him.

Jin’s turn was next, only had three more cups to go before Yoongi was completely plastered, which meant that Jimin would have to drive them home. Yoongi was already starting to become drunk, the smell of booze making Jimin’s nose crinkle in a cringe. Drinking was overrated.

Jin takes one of the balls in his hands, angling his hand as he squints before chucking the ball, the sound of a plastic ball hitting liquid making Yoongi groan. “F-fuck man.” Yoongi grunts, slipping the ball out of the cup before tipping the cup up to his lips and chugging the rest of its contents.

Jimin watched with distaste, Jin smirking widely before waiting for Yoongi to try his shot with the remaining eight cups left on Jin’s side. “Man, I think it’s far to see I've won.” Jin says taunting but Yoongi glares hard at the older male. “You, you shut your big lip ass up. I can do it just fine you f-fucker.”

Yoongi reaches his hand down into the small basket full of ping pong balls, grabbing the plastic orb and trying to copy Jin’s movements, but failed with a drunken stance, the ping pong ball bouncing off the table and onto the floor.

“S-shit.” He groans, Jin smirking as Jimin rolls his eyes. There was no way that Yoongi was going to win and it was starting to annoy Jimin because he was sitting here watching him just drink and drink.

Soon enough Yoongi was sipping down his last drink, proving ultimately that Jin won fair and square. “Damn dude, usually you beat me. Must be my lucky day.” Jin laughs out and Jimin slips off from the bar stool. “I’m going to go get me some water.”

Yoongi being completely plastered was a bad thing. Not only was he extremely clumsy but he was ill-tempered and acted rash and right on the spot. So the minute he’s coming to the conclusion Jimin’s leaving him behind, he’s turning fast and accidentally spilling the remainder of booze on Jimin’s clothes.

“Fuck! Baby I didn’t mean to.” Yoongi says, not paying attention to the looks people are starting to give the minute they realize what just left his mouth.

Jimin didn’t care about his clothes, but what he did care about was Yoongi just outting them out. Outting him out. Yoongi had been trying to wipe away the stain with his hand, not even understanding that wasn’t how it worked.

Jimin slapped his hand away, Yoongi’s face forming into a frown as he realized Jimin was pissed. “Don’t fucking touch me.” Yoongi finally realized around him that people were watching, looking back at Jimin.

And here came the ill-temper that Yoongi had when drunk.

“Are you fucking embarrassed of us? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Yn ; October 31th | 11:42 pm

You had found no one occupying Jin’s guest room, slowly leading Jungkook inside and locking it so no one could come busting inside and interrupting the two of you. Which was usually drunks and or people looking for places to fuck.

Jungkook sat on the end of the bed, his usual man spreading pose coming into your line of sight. It makes you blush, having to stop yourself from being anymore of a fool that you could possibly be.

“Hey, you can come sit too.” Patting with persistence you’re sitting down with a slight giggle that has Jungkook smiling back at you. He had noticed the blush that placed your cheeks, his starting to burn.

“You’re blushing.” You blurt out, that has Jungkook flinching as a slightly irritated look was on his face. “You’re the one who’s blushing.” He says, eyebrows furrowed as you look away from, trying to cool down your face.

“It’s because of you,” he speaks out, his straightforwardness never faulting in his personality. You turn your head to face him, face bright red with doe eyes piercing his gaze. “It’s because of you that is making me blush.”

At this moment your heart is beating fast, his body shifting closer to yours as you swallow hard. Jungkook has always been clear cut, always knew what he wanted, but when you came along, his dynamic changed. He wanted you, and he wanted to prove it.

“Tell me if you don’t want to.” That’s all he says as he waits for your response. Your heart almost about to burst out of your chest. You wanted this, for him to kiss you again and to be wrapped up in just him. “Go ahead..”

That is all you had to say before his lips are in the space of yours, hearts beating at the same pace together. His hand slowly creeped up and intermingled with yours. Your stomach filled with butterflies, his warmth and smell surrounding your senses.

The next thing you knew, you were spread out on the sheets of Jin’s guest room, Jungkook’s flushed face and deep breaths as he doesn’t know what he wants to do first. “I don’t have a condom.” He says, because obviously he didn’t think he would be over your naked body like this, about to fuck you like this.

Your response is filled with shyness, the fact you’ve never let someone look at you like this, and because he didn't know he looked so adorable at this moment. Hair standing up every which way, eyes hooded, and cheeks pink. “You can continue..”

“Is this your first time?" He asks as though that should be the response to what was about to happen. You can't help the giggle that tumbles from your lips, gesturing along to his slightly shocked face. "Yeah, it is." 

He's coming over to you, looking you in the eyes as you slightly bite a hold on your lip. "Ah, uhm okay. I’ll be gentle, just tell me if anything is hurting." He talks distractedly as he investigates your body and you can't tell if he’s nervous or just doesn't know what he’s doing.

Whenever he's settled on his decision, he's moving to lay over you once more, your legs spread out towards him. Going to press another kiss to your mouth, however you're halting him before your lips are contacting. "You can chill too, you know? I don’t expect this to be perfect." 

He’s nodding his head, before sitting up and pulling his shirt off his head, which was the last article of clothing that made the two not fully naked.

"How about you ride me," An idea that plainly flew into his head, however he's finishing, moving back and onto his back. You couldn’t help the blush that crept up on your face the minute his hands came in contact with your waist, placing you above his torso.

He’s moving to align himself perfectly with your entrance, a slight moan escaping from your lips the minute you're slowly slipping to be seated on him. He groans, his hands coming to make a place on your hips. You didn’t know what to do at first, this had been your first time, and it wasn’t like you were taking notes on how to be fucked.

It was the way he would moan differently that had you figuring out a better pace for the both of you. His head had been placed back into his pillow, at an angle to where he could watch how your tits would bounce and exactly how your wetness would pool down onto his dick. “God fuck baby, you feel so fucking good.”

His words rolled off his tongue with such ease, you hadn’t been uncomfortable at all by his dirty talk. And he knew that just by the way your walls would clench and a longed out whine would slip past your lips. If you did that again he probably would have cum right then and there.

His hands held a tighter grasp on your hips the minute you were placing your hands to rest on his chest, your hips rolling at a quicker pace, his dick rubbing up and down on your walls. “Fuck..” His tip slips back as you bring down your hips back onto him. 

“Yeah baby, just like that." He praises, voice stressed as he feels his cock jerk somewhere inside you. He's not even sure where you learned this, because plot twist you didn’t learn it anywhere. Your pussy fixes around him at the finish of his words and it pushes him to the edge, making him throw his head back again.

It’s when he’s feeling his high coming that he’s moving your back, your chest pressed to his as he’s moving his legs and thrusting into your pussy. You moan loudly, his nails digging into your hips as your hands are tangled in his hair. Lips finding each other as you could feel your climax reaching too.

He doesn’t stop his fast thrusts until your moaning non stop, the feel of your nails digging hard into his hair, legs shaking uncontrollably as the two of you are hitting your climax. The sound of his moans mixing with yours as the only person you thought about was him.

His arms stay around your body until the roll of your hips transforms into little jerks, gasped breaths hitting his neck which has him smiling softly. His neck cranes so he can get a decent glance at your face, a fucked out smile on your face. “Damn, dick that good?” He teases as he feels a huff pressed to his skin.

You're fast to turn in his arms, scrunching your nose as you gaze toward him. "You suck, you really looked hot in that costume," He laughs loudly at that, as he rests his nose in the crook of your neck. You're immediately loaded up with warmth as his arms wrap themselves around your waist. He wanted nothing but to stay in this moment with you.

An all around recognizable feeling starts to pool in your stomach. It was beginning to get harder to contain your complete infatuation with Jungkook, to hold yourself back from falling excessively fast. The way he had been holding onto you gently, drawing circles with his fingertips, and even humming softly, you knew you were fucked.

Yn ; November 1st | 12:37 pm

Soon enough Jungkook is slipping away from your grasp, checking the constant notifications dinging from his phone which made him shoot up from the bed and hurry up to put on his clothes.

“Woah- Is everything okay?” You ask, pulling the sheets with you to cover yourself. Jungkook could see the worried expression on your face, “Yeah baby, don’t worry Hoseok needs me down stairs, Jimin and Yoongi are fighting.”

The minute you are hearing his words, you have to digest. First, he called you baby and boy did you like it, and second Jimin and Yoongi were fighting? You were shocked, hurrying to get out of bed but Jungkook is stopping you.

“No. You stay here okay? I’ll come back after it’s all done, it’s just so you don’t get hurt.” That’s all he says before he’s rushing out of the room leaving you with a shocked and worried feeling.

It had been about twenty minutes and Jungkook still hadn’t come back, so you decided that you would go see what was going on by yourself.

Walking down the stairs in one of Jin’s hoodies and shorts, you heard a lot of yelling, but most importantly crying. Slipping through a few people your heart almost broke at the sight.

Jungkook had been holding back Yoongi as Hoseok and Jin did the same with Jimin, Yoonig’s face streaming with tears, eyes red and nose bloodshot. “Why the fuck are you so scared huh?? Am I nothing to you?!?” He screams, trying to claw out of Jungkook’s hold as Jimin’s eyes are just as hurt as Yoongi’s are. “I never said shit about that Yoongi! I just wished you would have given me time!”

Yoongi can’t control what he’s feeling at that point, tears still streaming as he’s still trying to fight his way out of Jungkook's hold. “You’re my fucking boyfriend Jimin?! Why is that so hard to accept??” Everyone is shocked as Jimin breaks down. You had never seen Yoongi so hurt before, never seen him cry and sure as hell never seen him interested in someone. Jimin doesn’t even look Yoongi in the eyes before he’s leaving, slipping past people who were recording, tears streaming through both of their eyes. Yoongi screams after him, begging him to stop walking and come back but Jimin doesn't and you could tell it broke Yoongi more.

Soon enough Jin announces the party will continue and for no one to panic as him and Jungkook lead Yoongi up towards his room, trying to calm down the crying guy with every walk.

You needed something to drink after that, today was a lot to process and a drink from whatever was in the bottle that was in your hand would suffice. “Now bitch, boy do I have some tea to spill for you.” Lou’s voice rang from beside you, a bright smile on her face.

She instantly notices you’re in Jin’s clothes, but decides that she’ll ask you about it later, but first she needs to tell you about what she just experienced. “Girlfriend guess who just kis-” She doesn’t even get to finish her sentence before someone is walking up.

Lou steps beside you the second her personal space is being invaded, the look on the guys face nasty and uncomfortable. “I’m glad I finally found you again, I never got to ask your name before that one guy came.”

From the way Lou shudders and the way he talks you can tell she’s met him and doesn’t want to again. “Listen dude, she’s not interested.” You speak up, but the guy doesn’t take his hint, a sour look on his face the minute you’re interjecting.

“Listen bitch, why don’t you go get fucked somewhere else alright?”

He’s motioning towards Jin’s clothes, a ping in your chest the minute you realise he just slut shamed you, an instant feeling of discomfort coming through your skin. Lou is seconds from saying something before Taehyung is stepping behind the guy and coughing loudly.

The guy falters, looking over his shoulder and swallowing down. “You know what? I think my friend just called me.” No one gets to say anything before he’s walking fastly away, a worried expression on Taehyung’s face. “Yn? You alright?”

You couldn’t move, the minute you are hearing the concerned voices of Lou and Taehyung has you unintentionally crying. Taehyung doesn’t know what to do when he sees this, softly reaching out and grabbing a hold on your arm and pulling you into a hug.

Jungkook ; November 1st | 1:13 pm

Jungkook helps Jins put Yoongi on his bed before he’s walking across the room into the guest room and being hit with emptiness. He rushed downstairs and looked across the house only to see people going back to what they were doing.

It’s when he looks toward the kitchen that he sees you, but what he sees makes his thoughts run loose. He couldn’t deny that since the day he had proposed to “fake date” that maybe you still thought of it like that and even so, liked Taehyung.

He was pissed, pissed because now he was convincing himself that you played him, pissed at himself for slowly falling for you when he shouldn’t have. He’s walking over towards the kitchen area and clawing you out of Taehyung’s grasp. “Man what the fuck.” Taehyung frowns hard at the younger guy, but Jungkook isn’t looking at him.

“I think it’s time to end the deal.” Jungkook seethes through his teeth, his jaw clenched as you looked confused. Lou and Taehyung were confused behind him. “Jungkook why are you ups-” He doesn’t let you finish, the grip on your hand tight. “I was stupid to think you liked me, but you know what that’s what I get huh? I mean I was the one who suggested for you to fake date me to get over Taehyung for Lou. But even still it looks like Taehyung likes you over her.”

“You did WHAT??” And that’s when shit hits the fan. Jungkook’s eyes widen the minute he realizes what he’s said, Lou scrunching her fists around the cup she had in her hands, liquid spewing out.

“What a load of bullshit.” She doesn’t even look at Jungkook, her cold gaze directed towards you. You had seen this look before, always toward her mom or her brother when they severely pissed her off, but now it was directed toward you for the first time.

“I knew it was all fucking weird. But you two seriously took me for a fucking fool huh? I can’t believe this is what you do behind my back.” You were scrambling, trying your best to not break down. “Lou it’s not what you think-” She doesn’t let you finish either, grabbing a bottle of alcohol and throwing it on the floor, breaking it. “So this is the kind of friend you take me for!!” She looks you dead in the eyes, before turning around and realizing that Taehyung had heard Jungkook’s words. She couldn’t do this, turning around fully and running away, out the house or somewhere in the house, just anywhere away from there.

You push your way out of Jungkook’s grasp, making him realize that he fucked up the minute that he’s watching your back, your figure running away and out the house. You had just lost your best friend and the guy you were falling for all in one night.

↫ masterlist ↬

— "first loves have always been confusing, but when you're bestfriend confesses she likes someone, your willing to do anything, even fake date and even so, find your first love."

⇆a/n: if you want to be added to the taglist, send me an ask - (if you aren’t being tagged. turn notifications on)

TAGLIST: @pjmriri @yoongiofmine @shatzkrinslinzki @sereni-soo @avke @betysotelo18 @she-is-dreaming @jkslachimolala @rageyoudamnednerd @teti-menchon0604 @peachy-skz0325 @shreyuuu @pvt-only @lovelytaes-blog @awseokjin @girlwiththeglittereyeliner @tanumiki

[marcspectorstannie]

❖taste of love-rage❖ (Jake Lockley x reader)

Warnings: descriptive violence, cursing in Spanish, slightly mention of harassment

Summary: Jake almost kills someone in front of you but realizes he was beginning to scare you

A/n: this gif reminds me of Gomez Addams for some reason, also, the summary doesn't do the rest justice I had writers block ; also in sorry there's no 'keep reading' cut, for some reason I can't place it on my phone and I really need to drop this fic :((

────────ೋღ ☯ღೋ────────

You knew Jake would do anything for you, let alone be your personal bodyguard. Going out was usually always a hassle due to his constant glares and death threats, but you appreciated his gestures and loved him anyway.

One day though, you had to go to your job to pick up some papers on your day off. Jake happily -well,his version of happy- accompanied you. He wasn't gonna let you go alone. What if something happened to you and he wasn't there to help you? He couldn't lose the only person who loved him for who he truly is. On your way to where you worked, Jake observed the areas around it. "These roads look weird,Princesa...are you sure this is the right way?" He noticed the empty lots and broken down houses up and down the block, the 1-2 people sitting outside drinking, the so called 'creeps' walking down the street with their hoods up. You sighed and glanced at him still staring out the windows. "Yes, this is the right way, I drive here almost everyday." You had already noticed the ups and downs of the streets when you first started working there. There was only one guy that would come in to see you, of course you wouldn't tell Jake that tho, he could possibly get shot in the knee for even speaking to you.

You finally reached your job as Jake quickly got out and opened the car door for you, holding his hand out. You smiled at his gesture and grabbed his hand.Quickly going through the front doors, you told Jake to stay by the door since he wasn't allowed near the back. He rolled his eyes and leaned against a couple of crates near the closed register. "Don't be long, I don't like this place.. " he called to you as you gave a quick thumbs up and went to grab your papers. Right, now where did they put them....ah, there they are- "Hey y/n....didn't expect to see you here today. Isn't this your day off? " You turned to the source of the voice and saw your coworker against the door, his shirt slightly untucked. You felt your body tense as your tried to avoid eye contact with him. This particular coworker always bothered you since your first day. The flirty comments and the perverted jokes specified towards you. He moved closer to you, making a space near the door for you escape.

"Yeah, but I had to come pick up these papers. Duty calls, am I right? " you a chucked awkwardly to diffuse the tension. Quickly exiting the room, you noticed him following you in the corner of your eye. You scanned the area for Jake and saw him staring at you, clearly already noticing the guy behind you. "So, you still single, or you finally let somebody, or multiple people, hit? Cuz yknow I've always had a thing for you...." He grabbed your waist, turning your body to face him. Your heart raced as you tried to stay calm. "Cmon y/n, let's hang out a bit.. It's only me and you here" You heard the clopping of hard bottom shoes hitting the floor.Jake quickly pushed the guy off of you and pushed you out the way of any other harm he was about to cause. "Hey, what the fuck, man? " the guy stumbled backwards, almost into a wall. "Hands off, capullo,don't make me the bad guy today." He had backed the guy up into a wall. The guy scoffed and looked back at you. "And what are you gonna do? " It seemed like all emotion but pure rage drained from his eyes. He turned the guy around, grabbed the back of his head, and repeatedly banged his head against the wall. You covered your mouth in shock. You'd seen Jake fight before but never so up close. Bits of blood started to dribble from his nose and mouth onto the wall, which now had a large dent in it. "You wanna say sorry yet? Hijo de perra." He lifted his head and turned it to you. Silence. "No? Alright then" He kicked his legs inwards, making them bend at a weird angel. He twisted his arms backwards and pulled them. " Te voy a romper la cara con las manos, now apologize to this lovely lady." The guy could hardly speak probably due to the blunt force trauma to his head.Jake wouldn't let him rest. He pulled out his gun and stuck it in the back of his head. "Now this is your last chance, pendejo, you speak or I blow this bullet in the back of your head."

"Jake... Stop." You croaked out a small plead. You didn't want to see him blow someone's brains out just because they made you uncomfortable. " Princesa,he hurt you. I can't have anyone hurt my girl,you know that." He quickly noticed the fear in your eyes as he looked at you. He tried to compose himself without laying one last punch on him. Putting his gun back in his pocket, he dropped the guy on the floor and grabbed your hand. "Get your papers, let's go" you grabbed what you came for and followed behind him. You head him faintly muttering Spanish curse words under his breath. He helped you into the passenger seat and got himself into the drivers side. "Jake, I'm ok, really." You sighed as he started the car with your keys. "He shouldn't have done that, pequeña perra.I should have stopped him sooner. I could've killed him right then and there." You grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "And I'm glad you didn't. You don't need another death on your conscious, let alone over something like this." He lightly kissed your hand. "Are you sure you're safe,princesa? Do you need anything?" You shook your head and smiled at him.

"No I'm ok, now let's go home."

[seraphdreams]

Sakusa’s Little Cheerleader..

warning : smut, fem! reader, breeding kink, soft dom sakusa, MSBY team

wc - 2.5k

a/n - this is one of my older works, so the pacing might be a little weird but overall, enjoy !

summary : you’re a little cheerleader that’s so infatuated with Kiyoomi Sakusa

You’ve been a cheerleader for the MSBY Black Jackals for a few months now, but you couldn’t help but notice the quiet, stand-offish curly head. When the cheer squad and the volleyball team would have joint practices, you always caught yourself staring at him. The way his black hair swished at every move he made and how he’d avoid the other players. It wasn’t until a big win that you finally decided to talk to him.

“You guys did great!” you say in an overexcited tone. “Oh, thanks y/n-chan” Atsumu says as he wraps his arm around your neck. Atsumu was always a touchy person towards you. Some days it was more flirtatious and others, friendly. He smelled like sweat and you couldn’t wait to be released from his grip. “You too, Sakusa” you say in a quiet voice, the man slowly turning around as he was walking out of the locker room. His hair was wet and he was wearing sweatpants with a black t-shirt, he most likely showered after the game. “Thanks” he hums, sounding a bit muffled under his mask. “Hey! Hey! Hey! We should definitely celebrate this” Bokuto exclaims in an overconfident tone. “Let’s go out to eat! c’mon y/n” Atsumu says. this is exactly what you wanted, an opening to talk to Sakusa, to know more about his personality. “No” Sakusa says quickly as to shut them up when he walks out of the venue and into his car. “Don’t worry, he’s definitely coming”Hinata says as he appears from nowhere.

“What do i wear? Is it a formal event? Casual?” You thought to yourself. You wanted Kiyoomi to notice you, but what if you looked to sexy or too bummy. You settle on a white silk tight, mid thigh dress. The back was strappy and the front lifted your breasts nicely while still being modest. Your phone suddenly dinged.

“hey best friend! we’re coming to pick you up in about 10 minutes” The text read. You honestly didn’t know why Atsumu referred to you as a best friend but it really didn’t bother you. Your heart was racing, finally a night with Sakusa. A loud honk of a car startled you, making you come out of your thoughts. You quickly grabbed your purse and phone and headed out.

“Sit in the front seat!” Bokuto yelled out of the backseats car window. The wind chilly on your skin as you walked to the car. It was dark outside and the only thing you could see were the streetlights and the black car in your driveway. You opened the car door and to your surprise, Sakusa was in the drivers seat. You shyly sat down, as your heart almost thumped out of your chest. He looked so sexy in his black suit. His hair was slightly gelled back but still curly and the white mask he was wearing added the right amount of contrast to his outfit. He drove off as Hinata, Atsumu, and Bokuto were bickering in the backseat. Every so often sakusa would take glances into the rear view mirror.

“How come i look like a squirrel and Omi-Kun over here looks like a god” Atsumu complains as he fixes up his suit jacket. You chuckle to yourself at Atsumu’s comment. Sakusa takes a quick glance at you. You feel his eyes go from your pretty face down to your exposed thighs. He reaches for the volume nob to turn the music up and drown out the sound of the backseat.

You finally arrive at your destination. It’s a fancy looking restaurant with many people waiting outside. He puts his arm behind your seat as he tries to back into an open parking spot. You try not to let your eyes trail on him for too long, fearful of if he caught you. He finishes parking and you grab your purse about to open the door until you hear a “wait” from Sakusa. You do as the tall man says, watching as all four men get out of the car.

Sakusa walked around to the front of the car then to your door. He opens it for you and grabs your hand as you step out. “Thank you” you say to him, finally taking in his scent. He smelled so clean, with hints of strong expensive Versace cologne. “Thank god i got a reservation” Bokuto states as all five of you walk towards the front of the restaurant. “Right, this place is packed” Hinata replies. You look down at your outfit as you walked next to Atsumu. He nudged your shoulder, noticing you being a bit more timid than usual. He moves from your side to behind you gripping you into a bear hug. “ahhh y/n! why are you so quiet!” You couldn’t help but laugh at the feeling, he eased your stress.

“Stop being so loud and walk” Sakusa says, annoyed. You arrived at the doors of the restaurant. The inside was classy and was dimly lit. You followed behind the host as she took you to your seats. You sat near the wall in the booth with Atsumu on your left side and Sakusa across from you. He looked so handsome, just sitting there looking at the menu.

After you placed your orders and talked for a while, you feel arms wrap around your waist tickling you. It was obviously Atsumu who couldn’t stop himself from being childish in a public setting. “Stop. Obviously she’s uncomfortable” Sakusa says in a gruff voice, face still fixated on the menu in his hands. “No it’s fine, you don-“ You try to say before Sakusa cuts you off. “I’m sorry, he doesn’t know how to behave” He says now looking out the window of the booth. “Oh chill out, Omi-San” Hinata says in a playful voice that lifts the mood.

____________________________________

After you’ve all ate and paid for your meal, you load back into the car. Sakusa opening your door once again. The drive home was much more quieter now because the energetic crew was sleeping. “You seem responsible” You say to Sakusa as he drives. “I guess. I have to deal with these idiots most of the time”. You chuckle as the words roll of his tongue. A smile creeps from the corners of his lips as he hears you laugh. “How long have you been cheering” He asks, taking a glance at your thick thighs. “Ever since i was in middle school. I took a small break in highschool but decided to try again. How long have you been playing volleyball?” you ask him.

He starts talking about how Komori got him into it. His voice was as light as whipped butter and soothed your soul. He grabs his phone to look at his GPS, helping him find his way to drop off the sleeping idiots in the backseat. One by one, he dropped them off home, starting with Hinata, then Atsumu, to Bokuto. “Thanks bro!” Bokuto says as he steps out the car rubbing his sleepy eyes.

“It’s still kind of early, do you want to talk a bit more at my house?” Kiyoomi offers. “Sure, why not” You reply. You were honestly confused about what the outcome of this night would be.

—————————————————————

He unlocked his front door and invited you into his home. The interior was what you’d expect from him, big and dark. The living room was spacious with a black couch and atleast a 135 inch TV built into the wall. The kitchen had dark marble and there were so many rooms, obviously all being clean. He directs you to his couch and picks up a bottle of wine with two wine glasses. He lights a candle on his coffee table. You looked up at the high ceiling, as he poured your drinks. He handed you your glass as he questioned.

“I hope you’re okay with rosè”. You nodded cutely and chucked. He sat down next to you, cautious of personal space. The night went on as you two chatted about almost anything possible. He was unusually bubbly, adding to his sexy allure. “Wait, you haven’t dated anyone in how many years?” He asked slightly buzzed from the wine. “Four” You answer with a giggle. His eyes widening. “I refuse to believe that.” He says, realizing he might’ve said too much. He slowly moves closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he looks you deep in your eyes, taking a sip from his glass. Your heart starts pounding a bit too hard and you feel pounding somewhere else as well. He sets his glass down. “Please tell me you’ve been touched atleast” He says in a low tone. “Maybe....” You tease.

He stands up, his dark figure looming over you. He grabs your hand and leads you upstairs. It was so dark but somehow he knew exactly where he was going. He opens a tall door and there it is, his bed. A california king, so obnoxiously large for no reason. He drags you to the middle of the end of the bed.

You sit down as he stands in between your legs. He lightly taps your shoulder, indicating for you to lay down. He slowly creeps atop of you, kissing your lips once meeting your face. His kisses were sloppy and tasted of alcohol. He couldn’t possibly be this drunk. You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck and playing with the curls at the nape. You let out a light moan as he starts to kiss your neck. You could feel his cock harden as it brushed against your pathetically clothed clit. He lifts himself up ever so slightly. “Do you want me to stop?” He questions, big dark brown eyes lidded with lust. You shake your head and pull him down to kiss you more. His hands roamed around your body, his fingers meeting the lace of your panties.

He slowly slides them down your thighs and onto the floor. He motions for you to put your arms up as he removes the small silk dress off you. You were in nothing but a bra, feeling so pathetic and small under him. You sit up and take the bra off before laying back down.

His eyes trail down to your now glossy cunt. He dips his head down and wraps his tongue around your clit. “Kiyoomi” you moan. He sticks in a long finger, swirling your slick around your walls. The pleasure is unmatched, everything about this man was so perfect to you. He starts to pump in and out, curling his finger to find your sweet spot. He adds another, keeping the rhythm. You started to clench down on him as his pace fastened. His fingers were so long and they were drilling that sweet spot of yours.

You felt the knot build in your stomach as he kept swirling his tongue around your clit and pumping his digits in. You attached your fingers into his hair as you felt your orgasm wash over you. He looked at the mess you made on his fingers and slipped them into his mouth. “You taste good” He says landing a gentle kiss on your forehead. You pant softly as you watch him undress, his body even sexier than you imagined.

He gives his cock a few quick pumps before aligning himself with your entrance. He was just the right size, and so thick. All you wanted to do earlier was get to know him but now you’re sprawled out in his bed about to take his inches. He slowly pushes himself into your sopping wet cunt, hissing at the feeling of you tightening around him. The stretch felt too good, you were for sure you were going to cum right then.

He starts to thrust, grunting as he kept bruising your cervix. “k-kiyoomi” You say through pants and breaths. He was pounding you so good, you felt your body lax. “You’re taking me so well, baby” He says leaning into your ear. Moans and skin slapping filled the large room. You couldn’t even manage to say anything but words along the lines of “omi, please”. He kept going, even harder this time. You cup your hand over your breast and play with your nipple, pinching and rolling your thumb over the bud. You felt a sudden force on the back of your thighs. Sakusa now had you folded like pretzel and he kept thrusting. It hurt but you loved the pain.

His grunts and groans making you feel hot and flustered. He rested your legs over his shoulders as he gripped your waist. His thrusts getting sloppier. You wanted to cum, you were almost there, then he reached down to your clit. He rubbed it in small circles. You felt were so close to releasing. Just a few more thrusts and you creamed all over his cock. He groaned at the feeling. “Please let me fill you up” Sakusa moaned as he was chasing his own high.

You didn’t know what to say, you were already fucked out and too hazed to even think. You nodded. He slowly pounded deep into you as he let his seed coat your insides white. “Cumming” he groaned, balls deep.

You both waited to catch your breaths. He grabbed the baby wipes on the dresser behind him and clean you both up. He was really thorough, as you expected from him. “We should probably shower” He suggests as tucks his cock back into his underwear. He runs the water in the shower. He picks you up bridal style to the front of the shower, where you both undressed and cleansed yourselves.

After the shower, he gives you his MSBY practice shirt and boxers to sleep in. You walk into the bathroom as you watch him do his skincare routine. There were so many steps but it was all so fascinating. He looks at you with a light chuckle. You sit down on the stool in front of the mirror, resting your head in your hands. “You look nice with that on” He compliments. You let your tired eyes get the best of you as you drift off to sleep.

He finishes his nightly tasks then picks you up and brings you to his bed, where you both snuggled until he fell asleep.

side story:

“Ding Dong!” You both jumped up at the startling sound of someone outside. Sakusa puts on his sweatpants and jogs down the stairs, you follow behind. He opens the door, slightly peering through. “Hey, i left my wallet in your car oh-“ Atsumu says as he looks at the both of you. You were standing behind kiyoomi like a frightened dog. “What’s this” atsumu asks. Sakusa hands him the keys to his car, without saying a word. “No wonder you were so protective of her last night, Omi-Kun” Atsumu says as he walks away from the door and walks to Sakusa’s car.

Kiyoomi turns to you with a chuckle.

[spnsisterimagines]

Mario Kart

Summary - Y/N decides to engage her brothers and Castiel into Mario Kart, not realizing what she was getting herself into.

Pairings - Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader, Jack Kline x Platonic!Winchester!Reader, Castiel x Winchester!Reader

Word Count - 1,911 words

"Let's get it!" Y/N squeals, claiming her spot on the middle of the couch. She was practically bouncing up and down, waiting impatiently for everyone to join her. The Dean Cave had brightened considerably since she had added a few redecorations. While Dean initially denied her, she had forced him to allow her to put up LED lights, several polaroids from her camera(they were mostly of herself smiling widely at the camera while Sam and Dean looked mildly annoyed with fake smiles. There was also a real funny one where Sam was unconscious on a hunt and Y/N decided to pose beside him), as well as posters from their favorite bands. Not to mention the added dock to the TV stand to hold her Nintendo Switch that Sam had bought her for her previous birthday. 

She supposed he regretted it now, since she was forcing him to play a game he'd never even heard of.

He entered the room first, holding a big bowl of popcorn and a soda. Dean followed close behind, Little Debbie packages hanging from his mouth since his arms were occupied with pillows from their bedrooms and a pack of beers for himself. Jack was the only one to come empty handed. He happily took the spot beside Y/N, waving merrily as Castiel also appeared with two sodas(both of them for Beth because he was just so considerate), taking the spot on her other side.

"I'll give this an hour before we switch to movie night, Y/N," Dean warned as he occupied his armchair, which was to the left of the couch. She had discovered this old thing at a garage sale. It had been a rather stressful day because Dean had refused to strap it to Baby and they had to hound what little friends they had for a truck. Since most of their friends were dead, Y/N had hot wired one outside of a bar and returned it before the drunk redneck inside could notice it had even left. She was sure the dent in the bed was there before they put the couch on it. Sam had not been happy about that.

Sam took his own armchair, which was to the right of the couch. 

"What is it, again?" he asked curiously. 

"Is the only thing in the media you've ever heard Facebook? You've seriously never heard of Mario Kart?" Y/N asked, happily accepting one of the sodas from Castiel. "Dad really did a number on us. I was introduced to this through Charlie." She got up to grab the number of controllers necessary for four. Jack was eager to try the game, but he was always open to trying new things, something Y/N could appreciate.

After connecting them to the Switch, she handed them out to her brothers along with Jack before returning to her spot on the couch between the angel and nephilim. 

"If I remember correctly from what you've told me, it's a racing game, right?" Castiel asked.

"Exactly, except with a few quirks to make it interesting. Like, um...I could throw a shell and hit one of them and vice versa. Or a banana peel. I'll give them a trial run before we actually get into it. Are you sure you don't want to try it, Cas?"

Castiel shook his head. "I have seen how you play with Charlie, and I don't want to be on the receiving end of your anger. And I rather like watching you in your element."

Y/N smiled, blushing, before playfully pushing him. 

"I need to get drunk to stomach this," Dean said, offended as he popped one of the beers open and took a gulp. "Keep the PDA to a minimum guys, you've got a kid next to you. Alright, what buttons do I push to hit Sam?"

"What the hell?" Sam scoffed. 

"What?"

"We haven't even started and you're gunnin' for me?"

"Uh, yeah!" 

"Alright, alright! First we gotta pick our player," Y/N mediated, pressing the buttons to get them to the screen full of Mario players. "I already got mine." She moved her icon until it landed on Wendy, before selecting her. "Obviously the best character, hands down."

The three boys maneuvered their icons over different characters, for some reason taking it a little too seriously on who they would choose. Sam selected his first. 

"Luigi?" Dean scoffed.

"You got a problem?" Sam asked. 

"No, but...why Luigi?"

"Who cares, I just chose him."

"You have to have a reason, man." Dean shook his head, before selecting his own. 

"Why'd you choose Bowser, then?"

"Because he's a badass. And he'd beat the holy hell out of Luigi if the games lost their PG rating," Dean shrugged.

Jack hummed thoughtfully, still scrolling. "I choose him!" 

He selected Toad. 

"Why him, Jack?" she asked. 

"I like his hat."

Y/N snorted, but it was a valid enough answer. Once everyone was ready, she selected the settings for the game and then decided to use the time to explain to them how the controls worked and anything else they were curious about. After a few trial races, they were ready for the real thing. Castiel was sitting patiently, his hands on his lap. 

"You assholes are going down," Dean declared, bringing his remote closer to him. 

"So much for being appropriate in front of the kid," Y/N sneered, but she was just as ready.

She set the game to go through ten races with a random select for the roads. 

And with that, they were off.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" Dean yelled, nearly jumping to his feet. His first empty beer bottle slide across the floor from his rapid movement. "I DIDN'T EVEN TOUCH IT! I DIDN'T GO NEAR THE GODDAMN PEEL!"

"That might've been mine," Sam stated, smugly. "But Bowser also takes up half the road, so avoiding it was probably impossible anyway."

Dean squinted. "You callin' me fat, Sammy?"

Sam shrugged. "Luigi's doing just fine."

Y/N hid her smile as she hit her own item, snatching that smile right from Sam's face.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, incredulous, the red shell sending Luigi off the edge of the map. 

"You got in my way!" Y/N sang. 

It only seemed to get worse from there. What was supposed to be an hour of playing turned into four with the bowl of popcorn thrown across the room at Dean when he had decided to hit Sam three times with three separate shells before snagging first place and doing a lewd dance as a way to declare his victory. Y/N's hair had bristled up, becoming bushier almost as though it were alive. Her right eye was twitching, and her hands were cramping by now. 

Jack, however, was having a good time. He has gotten last place the entire time, but he was still having fun, and that's what truly mattered.

Castiel, on the other hand, seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack, not knowing whose side he should take because all three Winchester siblings were completely out of their minds, including Y/N.

Finally, it was the last race. Everyone's nerves were shot. Sam's hair seemed even more raggedy than Y/N's, and his shirt was stained with soda because Dean decided to take vengeance by chucking his pillow at him when Sam was taking a big gulp. They had to pause the game for several minutes while Sam fought for his life coughing and wheezing because the soda went down the wrong pipe.

"I'm afraid I must at least attempt to deter you guys from participating in another race. There aren't any weapons in the Dean Cave, but I'm sure you three will find a way to kill each other," Castiel said, worried. "Jack, are you okay?"

Jack nodded enthusiastically. "I'm having fun!"

"I will let it be known if I lose, someone is dying tonight. I will call Billie to fix it, but someone has to die tonight if I lose," Y/N threatened. 

"Good luck with that, I'm kicking all of your asses, and you can kiss mine when it crosses the finish line," Dean said.

"I don't even care if I win, as long as you guys lose. And I'll make sure it happens." Sam jeered. 

With that, the race began. Aside from Jack and Castiel, everyone was bloodthirsty. Surely no matter who won, someone was gonna be pissed off. Castiel was making a mental note to grab Jack as soon as possible and escort him out of the room while the siblings brawled. 

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Y/N shouted, jumping to her feet. "WHO DID IT! WHO DID IT?"

"I did!" Sam happily announced, moving to and fro with the turn of his controller, as though he were in the game himself. 

"I'm gonna get you, Sam," Y/N snarled, pressing hard on the buttons, trying her best to catch up to her brother, collecting any items she came across, but none of them were good enough, so she kept using them without thinking until she heard Dean curse and also jump to his feet. 

"THAT WAS ME, JACKASS!" he yelled, completely distraught. "I didn't even do anything this time!"

"You probably deserved it anyway!" Sam shrugged, continuing to maneuver through the AIs to get to the front. 

By that time, Dean and Y/N had caught up, and with all they had, they used their items to completely screw each other over up until every kart had passed them. In the end, they were the bottom three with Sam first, Y/N second, and Dean in dead last. And for a moment there after, nobody said anything. They were completely beside themselves in utter shock at what just occurred. 

"What just happened?" Y/N asked, deflating considerably. 

"We lost..." Sam mumbled. 

"Screw you guys, I lost overall!" Dean scoffed.

"I won!" Jack suddenly cheered, leaping to his feet and jumping up and down. "I won!"

"You what?" Y/N asked, shocked as her eyes trailed to the top. Sure enough, Toad was in first place. "You're kidding!"

"I can't believe I won!" Jack said, smiling as he high-fived a proud Castiel.

"I want a rematch," Dean commanded, sitting back down and retrieving his controller. 

"Yeah, me, too!" Sam agreed. 

"I'm down!" Y/N eagerly agreed, about to grab hers when Castiel snatched it. He went around the room, taking up all the controllers.

"Given that it's five in the morning, and just a couple moments ago you three were ready to quite literally rip each other's throats out, I'm going to recommend everyone get up and get to bed instead," he instructed curtly. "I think we should postpone a future night of games indefinitely, at least for a little while until you three can learn to control yourselves."

"What-but-you can't-" Y/N sputtered.

"Quite literally, I can shut off whatever is necessary so you can never play the game again with just a snap of my fingers," Castiel warned. "Shower and get some sleep. Jody already told us she needed to discuss something at noon tomorrow, and it would be rude if we were tardy. C'mon, let's go!"

With a grumble, everyone got up and cleaned their mess, ignoring each other vehemently as they walked out. Except for Jack; he was practically skipping. 

There was another good thing about tonight that he knew about. He was the one that triggered the lightning item that really stumped the three siblings and put them at the bottom three.

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Feel It Like I Do

ty to @writinglizards for the title and @contemplativepancakes for making sure Geralt didn’t wear a shirt into the bath 💖

At least in the terms of Geralt's long life, they haven't known each other long but Jaskier has fallen hard. He was lost from the start if he's honest, enraptured by golden eyes and silver hair and a heart that cares just this side of too much. But loving someone is not always easy, and loving an emotionally stunted Witcher is all that much harder - especially if your Witcher doesn't believe he deserves good things.

And it doesn't help that Jaskier isn't quite sure how to approach things with Geralt. Normally, things with him start with sex. It's quick and easy and Jaskier has never failed to get someone into bed with him. Normally, when he wants something or someone, he smiles and charms and flirts his way into getting it, but things with Geraly have never been that simple. And not for a lack of trying.

But Geralt doesn't even realize he's being flirted with, which is a tragedy. Nor does he notice now when Jaskier picks up herbs he's getting low on. Geralt is thankful and appreciative but dense as stone and Jaskier finds himself lost, unsure of how to approach this wonderful, difficult man that destiny has brought to him. He figures it out unexpectedly on a dreadfully damp and foggy day - in the middle of a swamp, of all places.

So maybe Geralt had asked him to stay back at camp with Roach, but Jaskier's never seen a water hag for himself and if he's going to write about them, he'll have to have the details correct.

The first time he gets mud chucked at him, he grumbles and complains, but he can hear Geralt's chiding voice in his head reminding him he should have stayed at camp and he holds his ground. A little mud in his face is nothing for the chance to see Geralt at work.

Geralt dispatches of the hags - there are three of them, in all - without much trouble, but he earns himself a pretty hefty swipe for his trouble and when he returns to Jaskier, he's favouring his left arm. Jaskier frowns, reaches out before he can think better of it, but Geralt just brushes past him and toward their camp.

Jaskier follows at a safe distance. Geralt doesn't much like to talk after he completes a contract, or at all when he's taken a potion, so Jaskier keeps quiet and sits across from him when he makes it to their camp. He watches as Geralt hauls his pack into his lap, wincing still as he rummages through it and he wants to help. Jaskier aches to reach across and take the bag from Geralt's hands, to find whatever is it he needs. To help. He knows Geraly would never allow it, but he crosses over to sit next o him anyway.

"Can I do anything?" he asks. Geralt just grunts at him in response and Jaskier sighs. Instinctively, he reaches out and touches a hand to Geralt's good shoulder and Geralt freezes under him.

Immediately, Jaskier realizes he's made a mistake. Geralt tenses up under him, his whole body stiffening at the touch, but then he does something Jaskier would not have expected. He leans into it.

Jaskier holds his breath, afraid to move lest Geralt realize what he's doing and pull away, but his heart is racing and that, apparently, is what breaks the spell. They've known each other a little over three years now and Geralt has never allowed him to so much as touch him before, not more than a simple brush of their shoulders as they walk side-by-side and Jaskier is overwhelmed.

When Geralt turns to him, he looks surprised, almost embarrassed and when Jaskier opens his mouth to speak, Geralt rises to his feet and stalks off out of sight. But Jaskier is determined, so he picks Geralt's pack up from the ground and replaces the vials that spilled from it in his haste to escape. Setting it with the rest of their things, Jaskier turns to lighting the fire and laying out bedrolls. It's the least he can do to ensure things are as comfortable for Geralt as they can be when he returns.

And he does, a couple of hours later, silent as always. But he's given Jaskier something to go off, a brief glimpse into what Geralt actually wants but won't allow himself, and Jaskier, armed with this new information, is determined to give it to him. It's not much, but it's a step in the right direction.

For the next few days, they're in and around town, so Jaskier keeps a close eye on Geralt, especially his interactions with others. He's not sure how he never noticed before, the way Geralt stands taller, straighter when other people are around, or the way his whole body goes stiff when someone approaches him unprompted. He's bracing himself for the worst; for pain and hate, like the words spat at him in the streets, and Jaskier finds himself wondering if Geralt has ever felt a kind touch that wasn't paid dearly for.

But Jaskier knows now that that's something he wants; Geralt longs for kind touches, like anyone who's been denied for so long, and Jaskier hates the people who have made him feel like he's not allowed. And since no one else is willing, Jaskier will have to do it himself.

He starts small that very afternoon, stepping a little closer to Geralt's side as they make their way out of town. He isn't pushed away and if Geralt notices his proximity, he doesn't mention it, so when they lay down to sleep that night, Jaskier lays his bedroll out next to Geralt's. He'll be a little further from the fire, but the late spring weather is warm enough that it shouldn't matter.

When he wakes in the morning, Geralt had shifted and he's further away than he normally sleeps. It's frustrating, but Jaskier isn't one to back down from a challenge - especially not where Geralt's well-being is concerned.

So that night, he tries a new tactic. Maybe if he can get Geralt to initiate the touch himself, he won't be so quick to pull away. They find themselves at an inn, so Jaskier's initial plan of closeness through cold isn't going to work as well as he had hoped, but when they arrive the inn is old and cold enough that it just might work.

Once they've laid down for the night, he wraps himself in the scratchy blanket provided for them and stares out into the room. Geralt has made himself a bed on the floor - much to Jaskier's displeasure. It would make things so much easier if Geralt would just climb up here and sleep with him.

"I'm cold," he whispers into the darkness. There's nothing at first, then a rustling and footsteps fading away and returning. A very small part of him hopes that Geralt will come back and lay down next to him, but as always, he doesn't.

"Take this," Geralt says, draping something heavy over him. Jaskier turns to sit up, but Geralt is already moving away, back to his makeshift bed on the floor.

Jaskier resists a sigh of defeat, if only because Geralt would hear him, and settles back into bed, pulling the new blanket up over his shoulders. Only it isn't a blanket and when Jaskier inhales, Geralt's scent engulfs him. A quick grope around tells him the new addition to his bed is Geralt's travelling cloak, thick and woollen and likely warmer than the thin blankets that they carry with them. Despite the failure of his plan tonight, Jaskier can't feel entirely disappointed, though he worries that the way his heart thumps heavily against his chest is obvious to Geralt, sleeping only a few feet away.

After failing to fall asleep that night, surrounded by Geralt's scent, Jaskier takes a different approach. It's probably easier for him to reach out to Geralt first, but he wants Geralt to be comfortable with touch and he continues his attempt to get Geralt to reach out to him.

He pretends to be hurt or to have an itch somewhere he can't scratch himself, but Geralt never falls for it and Jaskier just gets more and more frustrated. On the one hand, he can understand why, after however many years of being met only with hate and disgust, Geralt would seclude himself. But Jaskier has never treated him that way and all he wants is to help. Because he knows how it feels to go without, to spend weeks alone without the faintest trace of human contact. It's awful, he can't even imagine the need for it after years. There are occasional visits to brothels in the bigger cities, but even then touch is a luxury paid for when Geralt can find someone who'll have him. Because he's a Witcher. Because he's inhuman.

Only Jaskier has never seen him that way, not even in the very beginning of this complicated relationship, and he longs for Geralt to understand that. After Geralt has been turned away from brothels, Jaskier has considered offering it himself. He could set his own feelings aside to give Geralt what he needs, but he suspects Geralt would see it as nothing more than a pittance and that's the last thing Jaskier wants him to think. Geralt is so much more than what everyone thinks and says about him and Jaskier is on a mission to prove that. A mission that apparently starts with convincing Geralt himself.

So one night, when Geralt is called out to take care of a wraith that's been haunting the village graveyard, Jaskier follows him. Geralt hasn't been sleeping well lately, and Jaskier has insisted on him sitting this one out, but they need the coin and what Jaskier earned at the tavern last night won't even cover their room for another night. So Geralt, exhausted and worn out, traipses up to the cemetery unknowingly with Jaskier in tow.

Jaskier sits and waits as Geralt disappears into the crypt, but he keeps an ear out for anything that could mean Geralt's in trouble. It doesn't take long before he hears the sounds of a fight, and right from the start, it doesn't sound good. Then abruptly, silence and nothing more.

Jaskier aches to run in after him and make sure he's okay. His fingers twitch against his thighs, and he runs through what he'd do over and over in his head, but he knows there isn't much he can do against a wraith. Something physical, maybe, but this is somewhere he can't really help. His heart feels like it's going to beat out of his chest and without realizing it, Jaskier's on his feet and heading to the entrance of the crypt when he spots Geralt, staggering through the arch and toward him.

Immediately, relief floods through him and his legs shake but manage to hold him well enough to get to Geralt. Without thinking, Jaskier ducks under Geralt's arm, pulling it around his neck and helping him back toward camp. He's surprised at how well he manages to support Geralt's weight, and it's not until they reach the unlit fire at their camp that Jaskier realizes how much of Geralt is pressed against him. And for the first time, he panics.

He helps Geralt down to sit on a stump near the fire pit and while Geralt sits and catches his breath, he continually assures Jaskier that he's fine. By now, Jaskier knows he can hear Geralt's heartbeat, how fast it's racing right now, and he knows the words are just to placate him. He knows Geralt must be injured but he doesn't trust Geralt to tell himself, so as much as he hates to push further than Geralt is ready for, Jaskier starts unbuckling his armour.

He stands behind him, laying each piece out carefully on the ground next to them, keeping an eye out for any hesitation, but Geralt seems resigned to this. It's not until his armour is off and piled neatly, and he's in nothing more than his tunic, that Geralt flinches when Jaskier reaches for him.

"I'm sorry," Jaskier breathes. "I can't see how bad it is with this on, can I-" He doesn't even finish the question before Geralt gives a curt nod and drops his gaze to the ground. He lifts his arms to let Jaskier pull it off, wincing as his muscles pull.

There's bruising all the way down his side and Jaskier fists his hands in Geralt's tunic, pushing out the anger that always accompanies seeing him like this. Maybe if the people who cursed him in the street could see him now, they'd think better of Witchers. Then again, he supposes, most of them are probably beyond changing. He shakes his head to keep from wondering about how it happened and steps away to find salve and bandages.

When he does, he digs a spare piece of linen from the bottom of his pack, using it to wipe away any remaining blood where the skin is broken. Geralt lets him, sitting still until Jaskier spreads salve on the worst of his wounds. He winces then and pulls away, turning to scowl at him.

"I'm sorry," Jaskier breathes, " just- please, let me help." After a moment, Geralt turns back around and rests his elbows on his knees, relenting.

Jaskier is as gentle as he can be, though suspects the only reason he's allowed to do this is because Geralt, despite his many talents, can't reach his own back properly to do it himself. It doesn't stop Jaskier, once he's finished bandaging him, from brushing his fingertips down Geralt's back.

He doesn't mean to, doesn't even realize he's doing it at first, but Geralt presses back into the touch and Jaskier tries again. He doesn't want to take advantage, but Geralt's muscles are tense under his hands and he knows if he can just get Geralt to let him, he can ease that stress.

Jaskier eases into it, touching him softly and just letting his hands drift over Geralt's skin to start. And slowly, Jaskier can feel him relax under his hands and he risks a little more pressure. Geralt's breath comes a little quicker as Jaskier's hands slide forward over his shoulders, but Jaskier pauses, rubbing his thumb soothingly over Geralt's collarbone until he feels the muscles there relax again.

Jaskier is elated to be allowed such a simple thing and he revels in the heat of Geralt's skin under his hands, the scent of his hair, though tinged with dirt and sweat. He lets himself get caught up in it, slipping his hands further down Geralt's chest and back up to rub the sides of his neck. Geralt's head drops back against his stomach, a soft groan slipping between his lips. Jaskier stiffens, afraid that he's pushed too far, but when he looks down, Geralt seems relaxed - more relaxed than he's seen him.

It's so rare that Jaskier - or anyone, he suspects - gets to see Geralt like this, that he feels almost like he's intruding on a private moment. He knows it's only due to exhaustion that Geralt submits so easily to him now, but he likes to believe a part of it has to do with trust as well.

Jaskier brings his hands back to Geralt's shoulders, fingertips pressing into the stiff muscle and working out the knots. He tries to concentrate, but Geralt keeps letting out soft little huffs of breath that are incredibly distracting and quite often he finds himself losing focus and slipping too far forward. He realizes his mistake when his fingers brush over a nipple and Geralt shudders under him.

Jaskier withdraws as Geralt sits forward shifting awkwardly. This time he knows he's pushed too far - accidentally, but he doubts that matters now. Jaskier shuts his eyes and as Geralt shrugs out from under his hands, he lets him go. When he rises to his feet, Jaskier realizes what the problem is and he hates himself for the initial heat that runs through him. He rips his gaze from where Geralt's cock is hard in his trousers, but he knows he's too late and he knows Geralt has seen him looking.

Geralt turns away and Jaskier curses himself as the Witcher stalks off into the dark. He tries to tell himself it wasn't his fault, but maybe he shouldn't have tried anything at all. He didn't mean to push, he didn't mean to turn him on and he definitely didn't mean to see. But Geralt was definitely aroused and the fact that Jaskier is the one who affected him like that is something he struggles to reconcile.

As far as his progress in getting Geralt to open up, this incident has a negative effect. Geralt closes himself off again afterward and Jaskier is upset with himself for taking advantage because it was the first time Geralt let him get that close and he went and fucked it up. For both of them. But he has to keep trying because Geralt does so much and gets so little. And he never takes anything for himself so Jaskier wants to try and give something back.

So he starts small again because he knows Geralt's trust isn't easily earned, and he finds his progress hasn't been undone as much as he'd expected. Geralt doesn't pull away when Jaskier walks close and even when their hands brush together, he seems unconcerned about it. Which is a relief and Jaskier doesn't think too much about why. He wants Geralt to adjust to his touch in any context, though since the incident with the wraith, Jaskier can't help thinking about making him feel good in other ways. It's a dream and nothing more, but it's in his mind nonetheless. He just wants Geralt to be more open, to be able to let himself have something good besides the sex he pays for.

For months, Jaskier works tirelessly to acclimatize Geralt to soft and gentle touches. He puts his own needs and desires aside in favour of trying to convince the most stubborn man he's ever met that not all touch has to be bad. On occasion, Geralt relents, but it's only when he's injured or exhausted and while it's a small victory, Jaskier will take what he can get.

But after a little while, Geralt seems to realize what Jaskier is doing. He doesn't back off like Jaskier expected him to. On the contrary, he'll even give a little back on occasion. If he's trying to hold Jaskier back, more often he'll press a hand to his shoulder rather than grabbing his clothes and pulling him back. The first time it happens, Jaskier is so surprised he stops dead in his tracks. But he appreciates the effort.

Then, one night, Gerallt surprises him.

It's been over a year now since the wraith incident and Jaskier always keeps that night in the back of his mind, reminding himself not to be too bold when Geralt gives him an inch. But he still thinks about it all the time, how he got Geralt hard with only his hands and how he so desperately wants to do it again, he just needs Geralt to let him. And it's not that things are going badly between them, but Jaskier has no delusions of anything like that happening again. Especially not intentionally.

They're in Temeria, staying at a little in that looks like it's seen better days and they've only just paid for their room when Geralt goes off saying he has to do something. Jaskier's sure something is heading to the local whorehouse and he wants to tell him he doesn't need to, but Geralt is determined and Jaskier keeps quiet. He heads up to their room alone.

He feels helpless and he doesn't know what he's supposed to do because he can't just come out and tell Geralt to fuck him instead. He wants to be able to, but it's so much more than just sex for him, even if maybe it's not for Geralt. But he wants Geralt to know that there's an alternative to how he's been living, that Jaskier is here to offer him more than just soft touches and a conversational companion. Geralt can get what he needs from someone who loves him, someone who wants to be with him. He can have kindness and affection without having to pay for it. He could be there for Geralt if he'd just let him. But every time he tries to offer, the words fail him.

Jaskier pushes the thoughts aside in favour of tidying the room and organizing their things before heading down to find his own company for the evening. He orders an ale for himself and sits at a table near the low-burning fire, keeping an eye on the crowd, but no one strikes his fancy tonight. If he's honest with himself, it's been a while since he's been truly dedicated to pleasing himself rather than Geralt.

He only stays long enough to finish his drink and by the time it's gone, he's still alone so he heads back to the room alone. Only when he opens the door, he comes face-to-face with Geralt, looking a little sheepish.

"I had a bath poured," Geralt says. "If you want."

Jaskier does his best not to show his confusion, but he's speechless trying to figure out why Geralt would order him a bath. The only words he can manage to get out are "I don't need it" and he regrets it immediately. He quickly corrects himself adding, "go ahead. I'm sure you would enjoy it."

Geralt doesn't look at him and for a second, Jaskier thinks he's offended him, but when he really looks at him, Geralt looks... conflicted, like he's struggling with himself.

"Join me?" he asks so quietly Jaskier almost doesn't hear him.

Oh. "Are you sure?" he asks, watching for any sign of hesitation, but if Geralt is wary of what he's offering, he doesn't show it. He just nods quietly and Jaskier is still trying to figure out what's happening because this is very unlike Geralt and he doesn't want to agree to something if Geralt is going to be uncomfortable about it later.

But he seems anything but uncomfortable. Geralt undresses like it's the most casual thing in the world and Jaskier catches him as he's unbuttoning his trousers, tugging his shirt loose. He finds himself staring, watching the way Geralt moves as he drops his arms backs to his sides, and Geralt notices. Just as Jaskier turns his head to look away, Geralt steps toward him and catches his attention again.

He reaches out, undoing the top few buttons on Jaskier's shirt and despite his careful composure, Jaskier's throat goes dry and he doesn't know what to do with himself. Geralt has never willingly let Jaskier get this close to him unless they're asleep and Jaskier is starting to feel like maybe all of his hard work has paid off.

"You can't bathe in your clothes," Geralt says by way of explanation which, Jaskier supposes, is true. When he looks up from where Geralt's hands are on his shirt, Geralt is looking at him so softly, almost nervously, and Jaskier's skin flushes under the attention. He wants so badly to close the rest of the distance between them, but Geralt is already putting himself out here in such a huge way and Jaskier want to let him take this at his own pace. Whatever this is.

He does reach out cautiously, letting his fingers brush over Geralt's shoulder and when he's met with no resistance, he lets his palm settle. And Geralt takes another small step forward, returning to Jaskier's buttons.

"Why do you always want to touch me?" he asks. Jaskier moves his head to meet his eyes, but Geralt is avoiding him, his focus solely on getting Jaskier's shirt undone. He hadn't realized Geralt had been quite that attentive. He'd thought his little advances could have been passed off as just trying to be closer or, well, something. But he should have known better.

"When was the last time someone touched you with kindness?" he asks and this time Geralt's head snaps up, eyes meeting his with confusion. "When was the last time someone touched you without getting anything in return?"

"Last winter," Geralt says without hesitation and the quickness of his response only makes Jaskier's heart sink further.

"Not every touch has to be hard and biting," Jaskier breathes. His hands rise on their own, softly wrapping around Geralt's wrists and lowering his hands from their task. "Not every kind gesture has to be transactional. You deserve good things just for the sake of it."

"You don't have to do that-"

"Geralt," Jaskier says a little more firmly, "if you don't understand by now that I care about you, I don't know how to convince you." Well, that's not entirely true, but he's taking things at Geralt's speed, not his own. "I know I don't have to do that, I don't have to do anything and yet, here I am. I want you to know I'm here for you."

Geralt shifts his weight, looking anywhere but at Jaskier like he's not sure how to process this. Maybe it's a good thing Jaskier can never find the words to tell him everything. Jaskier's heart beats a million times a minute as he takes a step forward into Geralt's space. He reaches out, meeting Geralt's eyes again as he presses his palms to his chest. Slowly, cautiously, he pushes his hands up Geralt's chest, slipping over his shoulders and around the back of his neck.

They're so close now that Jaskier can smell the oils on him and he realizes Geralt must have taken a lot of care in choosing them because the scents he picks up on are lavender and cedarwood, two of his favourites. And his chest constricts at the thought of Geralt putting that much effort into anything so frivolous, especially for someone else. Especially for him.

When he meets his eyes again, they're soft and every instinct is telling him to lean in, to press his lips against that soft mouth but the last time he pushed too hard, he fucked it all up. This time feels like something real and he doesn't want to risk making another mistake.

But he's leaning in without realizing and Geralt meets him halfway, bumping their foreheads together. All Jaskier can hear is the sound of his own breath and the blood rushing in his ears like thunder. He shuts his eyes and Geralt tips his head just so, bumping their noses together. And if Jaskier is feeling this overwhelmed by their closeness, he can't possibly imagine how Geralt is feeling right now.

"Jask..." he breathes and Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut and moves without thinking.

He leans in, just barely brushing his lips against Geralt's. He feels his breath against him as he draws back, hears a soft little noise that sounds something like relief and then Geralt's leaning in again and kissing him in earnest. His mouth slots against Jaskier's like that's what it was made for, hot and wanting, but Geralt seems unsure of what to do with his hands.

Jaskier never considered what with Geralt's want for a gentle touch that he might also want to touch. His hands hover in mid-air, just shy of brushing Jaskier's hips like he's never done this before, but it doesn't take much encouragement. Jaskier takes Geralt's hands and presses them against his own hips and it's all the direction Geralt needs to be given. He slides his hands up Jaskier's sides, pushing under his shirt and the heat from his skin sends a shudder up Jaskier's spine.

He moans softly against Geralt's lips, sliding his own hands up to tangle in his hair and Geralt hums appreciatively in response, one warm hand sliding up to the center of his back to hold him close. His lips part against Jaskier's, deepening the kiss and gods, Jaskier has never thought about how Geralt would kiss, but now that he's been given the chance, he doesn't hold back. And once he gets his hands on him, he doesn't let go.

Jaskier absolutely delights in how tactile Geralt is. Even his mouth doesn't leave his skin, straying from his lips only to press against his jaw and slide down his neck. Jaskier's head tips back giving him better access and Geralt groans against his skin, a low rumbling sound that rips right through him. The low simmering in his guts spikes and he wants to lean into the touch and press himself against Geralt but he draws back instead, not that Geralt lets him get far. Geralt looks at him with big, dark eyes and whatever reservations Jaskier was about to voice die on his tongue.

His breathing is shallow and as he meets Geralt's eyes, he can feel his chest heave with each breath. Geralt looks at him like he's just seeing him for the first time and he reaches between them, tugging Jaskier's shirt up over his head before slipping his fingers beneath the waist of his trousers. Jaskier tips his head down, watching as Geralt's fingers work open the clasps. Then Geralt pauses, tips Jaskier's chin up to look at him and kisses him again, hard and eager.

Jaskier's breath pulls from his lungs and he finds himself walking backward. When his knees hit the tub, he stumbles a little, but Geralt winds his arms around his waist, bracing him. When Geralt draws away again, Jaskier is breathless, and the way Geralt's hands move back to his trousers again doesn't help matters.

His hands slide over Jaskier's hips, catching on the silky fabric and pushing his trousers down. Jaskier holds his breath as the fabric slides over his heated cock and Geralt's hands slip back over his ass, forcing the roll of his hips. He's already half-hard, but he can hardly control the state of his cock with Geralt pawing at him like this. Jaskier's eyes drop shut and he lets out a low, breathy "oh" as his cock presses into Geralt's hip.

And he realizes maybe he doesn't have to be so cautious with Geralt after all. Jaskier risks a quick roll of his hips and Geralt rumbles pleasantly, pushing back against him. He kisses him again then, slow and sweet and just this side of too much and Geralt moves against him, lips parting as he presses against Jaskier's chest. He's so close and Jaskier can feel every inch of him, every tiny little movement of muscle and Geralt is hard against him which is a feeling infinitely better than any of Jaskier's wildest dreams.

He aches to touch him, to feel more than just the press of Geralt's cock against his hip, wonders if he could get a hand around him because he feels huge. Geralt breaks away to kiss Jaskier's jaw, down the side of his throat and Jaskier can't help the little gasp that slips from his lips. In a hundred years, he never expected Geralt to be like this when he was finally allowed free reign to touch.

Before he realizes it, Jaskier has a hand between them, snaking down to cup Geralt through his trousers. Geralt's hips jerk into the touch and he rumbles low in the back of his throat. Jaskier pulls back. He thinks he's gone too far again, that Geralt isn't ready for so much, but then Geralt's arms wind tightly around him and his feet lift the floor. A rush of excitement goes through him and he loops his arms around Geralt's neck as they head toward the bed.

"What about the bath?" he asks and Geralt meets his eyes with a dark look.

"Later," he growls and Jaskier feels the vibrations all the way through him. He'd mention the bath getting cold, but he doesn't think it would matter; Geralt is nothing if not focused and Jaskier is thrilled to be the one at the center of his attention. He's not about to sabotage it over a little cold water.

Geralt drops onto the mattress with Jaskier in his lap. He shuffles back, stacking the pillows behind him with one hand, the other still firmly curled around Jaskier's hip. When he's satisfied, he slips his other arm around Jaskier, too, tugging him closer and Jaskier groans at the way their cocks grind against each other. Geralt is still maddeningly hidden, tucked away just out of Jaskier's reach, which is so unfair he could cry. Because he's thick and hard and pressing up under Jaskier's balls in a way that makes him needy.

Then one of Geralt's hands slips down, squeezing his ass as he lifts him and pulls him close against him. His fingers slip down, pressing between Jaskier's cheeks and Geralt's trapped cock is pushed to the back of his mind.

Jaskier's eyes flutter shut as Geralt's fingers graze against his hole. He tips his head down, pressing his nose into Geralt's neck, speechless for the first time in a long time. If anyone had told him a week ago that this would happen, he never would have believed them, might have even told them off for teasing him and yet.

Jaskier rolls his hips encouragingly, and Geralt's mouth finds his shoulder, teeth grazing the smooth skin, but he doesn't give any more than he already is. But his grip is firm and Jaskier is happy just to be in his arms; it's more than he could ever have hoped for, considering Geralt's (apparently prior) aversion to touch. He's enthusiastic about it now, fingers lipping against Jaskier's hole in repetition, pressing just a little firmer each time. And Jaskier breathes praise into his skin, humming softly where he can't find the right words to tell Geralt how he feels without chasing him away. Because he loves him too fiercely already and Geralt is only just learning how to accept him as a friend. Although after this, maybe.

Geralt shifts under him, reaching out and Jaskier's eyes follow his hand to where it dips into one of their packs of the floor. He nips at Geralt's jaw, running his mouth along the line of it, and as Geralt settles back into position, he tips his head to catch Jaskier's mouth with his own. His gentleness is gone now, replaced with eager intent and for a moment, Jaskier is so wholly captivated by his mouth, that he doesn't realize what Geralt is doing with his other hand.

Cool, slick fingers slide against Jaskier's hole, prodding gently at the muscle and Jaskier nearly jumps in surprise. For his movement, he earns a soft huff of a laugh against his lips and that's- well, that's incredible. He draws away, smiling down at Geralt even as Geralt's fingers press into him, stretching Jaskier around him. Teeth dig into his bottom lip but Jaskier keeps his eyes open, enthralled by the little half-smirk that remains on Geralt's face, by the wonder in his eyes as he slides into Jaskier like that's where he belongs.

"Fuck," Jaskier groans, worrying his lip between his teeth. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, but he doesn't miss the way Geralt's grin spreads as he gives a couple of short thrusts into him.

Geralt is unsurprisingly quiet, apparently too caught up in Jaskier's pleasure to worry about his own. And he's barely giving Jaskier a chance to think, much less worry about anything but Geralt's fingers inside him. It's not exactly how Jaskier was expecting this to happen - not that he ever really believed it would - but Geralt seems more than happy with things as they are. Next time, Jaskier decides, if he gets a next time - he'll show Geralt just how good a gentle touch can be and he'll drag those noises out of him one way or another.

When Geralt gets a third finger into him, Jaskier groans impatiently. His hips work hard, fucking himself on Geralt's fingers and gods it feels good. And he needs this. As much as he wants to prove to Geralt that he's good and deserving of kindness, he needs this, too.

"I'm good," Jaskier huffs, but Geralt seems inclined to let him continue like this. His eyes are dark and focused where they roam over Jaskier's body and Jaskier can feel his cock beneath him. He feels the way it jerks, in need of attention, when Jaskier whimpers or pushes his hips down and he wonders if Geralt is already imagining the feeling of him, hot and tight around him. Jaskier lets out a soft moan at the thought, but it's not until he pushes Geralt's shoulders back against the wall, that he seems to break the Witcher's spell.

Geralt looks up at him slowly, meeting his gaze, but as soon as his fingers slip from Jaskier's body it's like a dam has broken. Both of them fumble with Geralt's trousers, getting them undone and shoving them open just far enough that Jaskier can pull Geralt's cock from its confines. He gives him a quick stroke before shifting forward and sitting back on him.

The stretch is a lot more than he was expecting, but he rocks back onto him, easing the way without having to slow down. Because Geralt's fingers dig into his hips and his breath comes in short heavy puffs. And when Jaskier lets himself relax when he sinks a little lower, Geralt's eyes roll back and he moans so sweetly. It's a sound Jaskier will never forget for the rest of his life and he makes it his job to draw as many of those sounds from Geralt's lips as he can.

When Jaskier fully seats himself, he feels like he can't breathe. He's so full of Geralt's cock that he can barely think straight, but his body moves on its own. He rocks his hips forward without rising up and Geralt follows the motion, pushing somehow even deeper into him.

"Oh fuck," Jaskier whines, lifting his hips to slide up Geralt's cock. He drops back onto him just as quickly and the growl he gets in response makes his own cock throb.

When Jaskier realizes just how much Geralt likes letting go, likes letting him take the lead, he leans back, bracing himself on Geralt's thighs. He works his hips quick and hard while Geralt touches him. Geralt keeps one hand on his hip, but the other slips up his stomach, fingers sliding softly up the column of his throat and over his jaw. Jaskier likes it almost as much as he likes the cock up his ass. He preens under the attention, presses his chest out, moans a little louder when Geralt's fingers press into his skin.

It's rushed and inelegant, but Jaskier's heart swells when Geralt tugs him into a bruising kiss. Jaskier pants against him, moaning into Geralt's mouth as they move as one. Like this, he can feel every little change in Geralt's body and he has to wonder if it's not similar to how Geralt always seems to know how he's feeling. A shuddering moan escapes Geralt's lips, a little gasp, and Jaskier knows he's getting close. He loves it, loves to know he's the one making Geralt feel this way. He's the one with Geralt's cock inside him and his hands on him and even as he leans forward to rest against his chest, it feels unreal.

Geralt's hips snap up and he wraps his arms around Jaskier's shoulders, holding him close as he buries his face in his neck. He's mumbling something, but Jaskier can't quite make out the words, muffled by his own skin.

"Beautiful," Jaskier huffs, tilting his head and pressing his nose into Geralt's hair. He presses his cock into Geralt's stomach, rutting against him with every forward thrust.

When Geralt comes, he pulls his knees up, pushing Jaskier closer against him and letting out a moan that nearly has Jaskier coming undone right after him.

He works Geralt through it, fucking him steadily until Geralt's grip on him loosens and his legs drop back against the mattress. He mumbles a stifled "fuck, Jas," and pushes his fingers up Jaskier's back and into his hair, seeking out his mouth and kissing him softly.

Jaskier shifts without breaking the kiss and Geralt shifts under him, his fingers tightening in his hair. But when Jaskier moves to lift himself out of his lap, one of Geralt's hands drops to his hip, holding him down.

"No," he breathes, "don't stop."

"O-okay," Jaskier huffs, "do you want to-" Geralt cuts him off with a swift kiss and a quick snap of his hips. Fuck, he's still hard. Jaskier shifts his hips and when he's met with a groan, he looks up to meet Geralt's eyes. "Touch me," he whispers and Geralt's tongue darts out between his lips before one hand curls around the base of Jaskier's cock.

He lets out a sob, reaching out to curl a hand around the back of Geralt's neck. He's wanted to say those words for longer than he can even remember now, and in all that time, he was never expecting Geralt to be quite so eager to comply.

His hand is warm, even around Jaskier's heated cock, and he grips him firmly, stroking straight up to the head. He squeezes around the crown, rubbing his thumb underneath and Jaskier drops his head forward against him, hips jerking forward against his hand.

"Geralt-" he chokes, "oh, Geralt."

It takes him a moment to adjust to the additional sensation, but Jaskier manages to find a rhythm that suits them both, fucking back onto Geralt's cock and forward into his hand. He's already veering quickly toward the edge and when he shifts in Geralt's lap, he realizes he's not the only one.

Geralt's mouth drops open against his own, a soft moan escaping as Jaskier squeezes around him. Gods, it's barely been any time since he came and already Geralt looks like he's struggling to hold on.

"Geralt," Jaskier breathes, bumping their noses together, "are you close?" The only answer he gets is a quiet hmm, but it's as much confirmation as Jaskier needs. He works his hips a little quicker, wraps both arms around Geralt's neck and kisses him. He nips at Geralt's lips and when the pleasure threatens to overwhelm him, he buries his face in Geralt's neck, clenching his fingers in his hair. One hard tug is all it takes to push Geralt over the edge a second time and he pulls Jaskier tightly against him.

When Geralt comes again, Jaskier is right there with him. His legs shake under him and only Geralt's arms wound around his back, keep him from toppling over completely. His cock continues to rub against Geralt's stomach and Jaskier has to bite down on the Witcher's shoulder to keep from crying out.

Neither of them moves for a few moments, panting heavily against each other until Geralt shifts to pull out. Jaskier whines at the loss, but it's a weak protest and Geralt appeases him with a soft kiss, rolling Jaskier onto his side so they're facing each other. It isn't until then that reality sets in and Jaskier realizes exactly what they've done.

He opens his mouth to say... something, but Geralt moves closer, cupping his jaw and humming softly against his mouth. It's not a kiss, really, barely a brush of lips before Geralt pushes himself back up again, but it's enough to soothe Jaskier's worries.

"Would you still like that bath?" he asks and Jaskier smiles despite the prospect of very cold bathwater.

"It'll be cold."

"I'll warm it up," Geralt promises, setting a hand on Jaskier's hip.

"Okay."

He does, indeed, warm the water with igni before peeling himself out of his trousers and stepping into the bath. Jaskier watches from the bed. His legs are still a little shaky, but when Geralt tilts his head and spreads his knees it feels like an invitation, one Jaskier isn't willing to turn down.

He crosses to the center of the room, stepping into the warm water and Geralt's hands are on him again, turning him so when he settles he has his back to Geralt's chest. It's nice, leaning back against him like this. Bathing is one of the few indulgences Geralt allows himself and Jaskier is happy to be able to share this with him. Sighing softly, he tips his head back against Geralt's shoulders and runs his hands down Geralt's thighs, smiling as they only spread further apart.

"I like it when you touch me," Geralt hums from behind. His voice is soft and low, so much so that Jaskier doesn't quite hear at first, but as the words register, he smiles.

"I noticed that."

"I don't mean-" he lets out a little scoff, but his hands come up to cover Jaskier's fingers entangling with his own. "I mean like this, the small things."

"Oh?"

"Like when you pretend to be cold so I'll come sleep closer to you." Jaskier starts at that and leans forward to turn and face Geralt.

"You knew I was pretending?"

"Yes."

"And you still-?"

Geralt hums, a low rumbling sound that Jaskier would never tell him reminds him of a cat purring. "I told you," he says, "I like it."

"Well good," Jaskier settles back against him, bringing Geralt's hand up to kiss his palm, "because I have no intention of stopping any time soon."

[curlynerd]

Happy Birthday, Cas! Word Count: 3K Rating: T Summary: Appalled that Cas has never had a birthday party before, Jack drags Dean into his schemes to plan a surprise party for him. Dean finally works up the courage to tell Cas how he feels. Notes: love confessions, first kiss, lots of fluff, and lots of Cas' family showing up much they care

Also read on AO3!

"You've never celebrated Cas' birthday?!" Jack exclaimed by way of greeting at -- Dean groaned and rolled over to check the time. -- 6:47 in the morning.

"Jack..." Dean sighed, dragging his hand down his face and sitting up in bed. "We've been over this. You promised not to come barging in here until at least 8:30."

"Huh?" Jack titled his head at Dean before his gaze trailed over to the bedside clock. "Oh. Sorry. I forgot to check the time."

"All those God powers and you can't even conjure up a watch?" Dean grumbled as he threw the sheets off his legs and planted his feet on the floor. "Now what were you saying about Cas?"

"His birthday!" Jack's expression was too damn excitable for this early in the morning. "I was telling him about how we celebrated my birthday after Mrs. Butters left, and I asked him about his birthday, and he said he'd never celebrated one before!"

Dean frowned at Jack. This was what he was woken up for? "Kid, I don't think he has one. The dude's older than calendars."

Jack was undaunted. "Yeah, but he was born, right? Even angels are born."

Okay, it was way too early for existential questions. He needed coffee. Dean grunted his acknowledgment and dragged himself to his feet. "Did Cas say when his birthday was?"

"Well, no." Jack furrowed his brow for just a second before his face lit up in enthusiasm. "Why don't we celebrate today?"

Dean stared at Jack. Jack's eyes were wide and sincere and full of love, just like his dad's. And, apparently, just as effective. "Alright..." Dean said with a defeated sigh. Who was he to deny the kid a chance to make his dad happy? "Whacha wanna do for his birthday?"

Jack beamed. "A surprise party! With cake!"

"Yeah, I figured as much." Dean scrubbed at his hair and wiped the last of the sleep out of his eyes as he shuffled his feet into his slippers. "Coffee first, though. Then the store."

"What kind of cake should we make?" Jack asked an hour later, as he and Dean pondered every box mix the grocery store had to offer.

“Hmm…” Dean eyeballed the box of funfetti mix. Jack would probably like that one best. It had sprinkles baked in. Dean kind of wanted a classic chocolate cake. And Cas, well. He wouldn’t care. He’d probably take two bites at most, just to appease Jack.

“This one.” Dean’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he reached for a box and held it out for Jack.

“Angel food cake?” Jack read.

Dean nodded, his grin widening at his little joke. “Yeah! It’s special. Angels love it, ya know.”

Jack tilted his head at Dean, then the box, before a smile bloomed across his face. “You gave me angel food cake once. I really liked it! Is that why you got it for me?”

Dean thought back to that drive, and his little snack cakes morality test. “Yup. That was definitely why.” He snatched the box from Jack’s hand and tossed it into the cart before he could ask more questions. “Let’s wrap this up before Cas wonders why we’ve been gone so long.”

If Cas was ignorant of Jack’s birthday plans before, he wasn’t for long. Neither Dean nor Jack thought to do much to conceal the contents of their shopping bags when they returned home. Or figure out a way to keep Cas from wandering the bunker. So when he stumbled upon the two of them hauling bags toward the kitchen, both Dean and Jack traded suspicious glances.

“Dean and I will be in the kitchen for awhile,” Jack said seriously, cutting straight to the chase. “Do not come in there though!”

“Oh?” Cas’ gaze flickered down to their bags. A package of birthday hats stuck out of the opening of one. A canister of rainbow sprinkles was nestled at the top of another. His mouth twitched as his eyes softened with warmth. When they met Dean’s eyes, Dean’s stomach did a flip. Cas’ eyes grew even warmer.

‘He loves you,’ Dean’s thoughts helpfully supplied at the worst possible moment, ensuring Dean’s face burned with a fierce blush right as Cas looked his most adoring. Dean hastily averted his gaze.

Cas hadn’t been back from the Empty for long, only a couple of weeks really. But it felt like an eternity.

Because Dean hadn’t told him yet. He hadn’t looked him in the eyes and said ‘I love you too.’ Hadn’t dragged him in by the lapels of his stupid trenchcoat and kissed him senseless. Hadn’t held him close and promised him that he could have Dean, all of him, for as long as he wanted to keep him.

The moment had never been right. There were always people around. Jack. Sam. So many of their friends, eager to see them and celebrate their victory over Chuck and their newfound freedom. Things were only now starting to quiet down, and still Dean hadn’t worked up the courage to tell him.

“It’s for a surprise,” Jack continued, pulling Dean from his thoughts. “Er, not a surprise! We’re not planning any surprises!” Dean barely controlled his eyeroll. The kid really needed to work on his lying. “It’s something you can’t know about until later. So don’t even think about peeking!”

Cas and Dean traded knowing looks. Dean shrugged a little. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Cas assured Jack.

Jack brightened. “Great! Come on, Dean. Let’s go!” He practically skipped toward the kitchen, radiating enthusiasm with every step. Dean sighed and followed after him, already anticipating the huge mess at the end of all this. At least it was just box mix. That was easy enough to handle.

As it turned out, even box mix wasn’t foolproof.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” Jack asked in concern. He poked at the misshapen mess of their cake.

“Probably not.” Dean shrugged. It was a disaster zone, is what it was. Apparently angel food cake required a special pan. It looked similar enough to a bundt pan, though, so Dean thought it was an okay substitute. Clearly not. Or maybe they overmixed it? Was that why it sunk into this lumpy, craggy mess and then fell apart when they tried to shake it out of the pan?

“But ya know, homemade cake never looks as fancy as the stuff you get at the store, but it tastes just as good.” He slapped Jack on the back. “Put some frosting on this thing, maybe some decorations, and we’re golden.”

And so they set to work. Jack clearly had a vision of what he wanted, pulling supplies from the pantry to add to the disaster cake. He insisted on covering it in a thick layer of chocolate frosting, even though Dean tried to tell him angel food cake didn’t usually need it. It was vital to what he was creating. A full hour passed, and somehow the thing looked even worse than when it first flopped out of the pan.

“Cas is gonna love it,” Dean said anyway, because he knew it was true. Jack beamed with pride.

“At what point am I no longer banned from the kitchen?” Almost as if on cue, Cas’ voice called out from down the hallway. “Am I allowed to walk past it? I’d like to go into the library.”

“You can come in!” Jack yelled back, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.

Dean looked around at the decoration-less kitchen, the party hats and the balloons still in their packaging. “Wait, hold on--” he began, but it was too late.

“SURPRISE!” Jack shouted as Cas rounded the corner. “Happy birthday, Cas!”

“A surprise for me?” Cas didn’t even seem to notice that the only things in the kitchen were a weird brown blob of cake and a massive mess. He was smiling from ear to ear at Jack with that special, endeared smile parents reserved just for their children. “But I told you I didn’t have a birthday,” Cas said. Which he and Jack had talked about literally hours ago. Before Jack raced off to talk with Dean and plan an impromptu trip to the store before baking all morning.

Yeah. Cas definitely knew what Jack was planning today.

“Well, Jack decided today was your birthday. So, happy birthday.” Dean shrugged a little in a ‘Kids. What can ya do?’ sort of way.

Cas’ expression softened. “Today is a perfect day for a birthday.”

“We made a cake!” Jack bounded over to Cas and practically dragged him to the kitchen counter. “Do you like it?”

“It is…” Cas frowned and knit his eyebrows together at the monstrosity before him. “An inside-out hedgehog?”

“It’s a Sarlacc Pit!” Jack exclaimed while Dean clutched at the table, doubled-over with laughter. Jack pointed out the pretzel rods jutting out around the misshapen, lumpy hole in the center of the sunken cake. They’d done their best to make the chocolate frosting around it look like smooth sand, but of course it was way too brown. And bits of warm cake kept breaking off while they iced it. “That’s its teeth, and that’s the sand. It’s a Star Wars cake!”

“Oh, of course it is!” Cas said generously. He patted Jack’s shoulder. “It’s wonderful, Jack. And Dean.” He nodded at Dean, who was still trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah we’ve got ourselves the next Cake Boss over here. If the God thing doesn’t work out.” Dean’s voice rippled with laughter. He snatched up the bag of party hats and ripped it open. Cas looked exceedingly tolerant as Dean snapped one on his head with an impish grin. “So birthday boy, whacha wanna do on your special day?”

“Oh I know!” Jack exclaimed. His enthusiasm was infectious. “First we’ve gotta…”

The day wound up being more about Jack than Cas. Or rather, Jack doing all the things he loved to do with Cas. There was a Star Wars movie marathon. There was cake. There were more board games than Dean had played in a lifetime. Dean had a sneaking suspicion Cas let Jack win most of them.

But Cas had smiled almost non-stop the entire day, probably more than Dean had seen the entire thirteen years since he’d met him. And yeah, Dean knew why. What was better to do on his birthday than spend time with his kid?

By the end of the day, even Cas was looking a little tired. Dean was absolutely exhausted. He was half-tempted to drag himself to bed early, but when Jack finally retired to his own room to give Dean and Cas some time together, there wasn’t any hesitation about settling down in his favorite armchair, Cas beside him, with two glasses of Dean’s favorite whiskey to share.

The drink was warming through his limbs, but the light in Cas’ eyes was warmer. He looked content, if not a little overwhelmed by all the love his little family had shown him today. Dean leaned back in his chair and let the peacefulness of the moment wash over him.

“You know, it’s serendipitous Jack chose today for my birthday.” Cas smiled down at his glass.

Dean cracked a sleepy eye open. “Yeah? Why?”

“Well, today is the anniversary of the day I raised you from perdition.”

Dean stared at Cas. Cas eyes twinkled with nostalgia. “Really?” Cas nodded, and Dean laughed. “Well then I suppose it’s really my re-birthday.”

Cas chuckled. “I’ll remind Jack to bake two cakes next year.” They fell into easy silence, nursing their drinks as they reflected on the years.

“It really is a good birth date,” Cas said awhile later. “I may have been alive for eons before then, but the day I met you was when I changed...That was when I really started living.”

Dean’s heart leapt into his throat, Cas’ love confession ringing in his ears. “Didn’t I stab you?” he joked weakly, deflecting the spiraling nerves that bubbled up in his chest.

Cas laughed. “Yes. Yes, you did. I didn’t realize it at the time, but even then you were making me feel. Mostly confusion,” he added with a wry twist of his lips. “I saved you from eternal damnation, and you repaid me by stabbing me in the chest!” Despite his amusement, Cas’ eyes were overflowing with warmth and affection. Dean could almost read the thoughts going on behind them. ‘I fell a little bit in love with you right then.’

“What can I say? I have that effect on people.” ‘Now,’ his thoughts urged. ‘Tell him now!’ “I dunno what I’d have done without you,” Dean mused around a sip of whiskey. A little more liquid courage. A little more and he could do this.

“Another angel would have been sent. You would have been pulled from Hell anyway.”

“Not what I meant, Cas,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “All of it. All the crap we’ve been through. All the crap Chuck put us through. Put me through.” He watched the way the warm lamplight reflected off his drink. “I...I’m glad I had a best friend through it all. You know?”

“Yes,” Cas said, but there was a twinge of sadness in his voice that made Dean look up. He was smiling softly, but the longing in his eyes was impossible to miss.

Dean sighed. His gut churned with fear and guilt and yearning. He knew Cas loved him. And he knew he loved Cas. Hell, he’d known that for a helluva lot longer than he’d known of Cas’ feelings. He just needed one little push to make him confront those feelings head-on.

“Ya know, I think I have one more present for you.” Dean set his glass down with heavy meaning. He nodded to himself and stood up, his jaw set firm, his eyes determined.

“You do?” Cas started to ask. “What--” And before he could finish his sentence, Dean crawled into the chair with him, his knees straddling Cas’ hips, bracing himself against the backrest with one hand. Cas’ eyes went huge. “Dean?” His voice trembled.

Dean was pretty sure he looked even more nervous, but he’d be damned if he owned up to it. “Hey birthday boy,” he hummed, forcing a flirtatious smile despite the anxiety pounding in his chest. He was going to kiss Cas. God how he wanted to kiss Cas.

But instead of looking delighted Cas looked...hurt. “Dean, you don’t have to do this for me.”

Dean’s heart went cold. “For you? You don’t think I want this?”

“No,” Cas said simply. Honestly. His bright blue eyes were so close now, but the heartache in them was almost painful to look at.

Dean swallowed thickly. “Well then you’re dumber than you look,” he teased, forcing bravado he did not feel. Dean leaned in until his forehead rested against Cas’. He could feel Cas’ warm breath across his lips. “Cas, if I could pick anyone in the whole damn world to be with, it’d be my best friend. You know that, right?” Cas licked his lips. Dean yearned to tilt his head down and catch them with his own. “But I thought you didn’t...Couldn’t...Well, I thought love wasn’t something angels did.”

“But I told you, Dean. When the Empty came, I told you--”

“Yeah I know. But you know how I drag my ass for important stuff.” That finally elicited a tiny puff of laughter from Cas. Dean smiled. “Come on, man. Cut me some slack. Lemme use this as an excuse to nut up and kiss you.”

As it turned out, Dean didn’t need to, because Cas surged up and pressed their lips together.

Dean gasped into the kiss as his hand resettled itself on Cas’ shoulder. Cas’ glass clattered as he hastily set it on the table in order to hold Dean’s waist with both hands. Cas kissed like he was starving for it, voracious and desperate, licking his way into Dean’s mouth without preamble and moaning deeply into the heat he found there.

Dean gave as good as he got, letting over a decade of longing finally escape through the hot, greedy press of their lips together, through the long trailing kisses along Cas’ jaw while Cas dragged his hands down Dean’s back and up underneath his shirt.

“We should...do this in my room…” Dean whispered in Cas’ ear as his teeth nipped at the sensitive area. Cas nodded and, without warning, stood up with Dean still wrapped around him. Dean startled and reflexively jerked his feet down toward the floor, though he realized with delight that Cas could almost certainly carry him the entire way if he wanted. Later. He’d test that out later. For now Dean grabbed Cas by the tie with a lecherous twinkle in his eye and hauled him in the direction of his bedroom. Soon to be their bedroom, if Dean had anything to say about it.

Much, much later, when they were tangled together beneath the sheets with Dean’s head nestled on Cas’ chest, Dean realized that Cas had been wrong. Because his happiest moment wasn’t when the Empty took him away. It wasn’t in just saying how he felt.

Because it was in loving, yes, but it was also in being loved.

Because when Dean peeked up at Cas’ face, he was radiating so much happiness Dean’s heart ached from it. Today was the happiest he’d ever been. And perhaps tomorrow, if Dean had anything to say about it, tomorrow he’d be even happier.

Cas’ eyes were full of love as he carded his fingers through Dean’s hair. “I know I don’t have any others to compare this against, but today was a very good birthday.”

“Good.” Dean pressed a sleepy kiss to Cas’ skin as his eyes drifted closed. “You deserve it.”

[xreaderbooks]

Hidden (1)

Pair: Draco Malfoy x reader, Harry Potter x sister! reader, Platonic! Cedric Diggory x reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: curse/swear words, fluff, soft Draco 

Summary: You and Draco have been in a secret relationship for 2 years already and he wants to go public but you don’t think that your brother is ready. 

Masterlist - part 2

If he were to ever find out; you would be dead. Or maybe he'd be supportive. It's always important to remain optimistic in situations like this, But then again how many people can say they are put in the position where they fall in love with their brother's enemy. Knowing Harry he'd probably be understanding, maybe, who were you kidding the rivalry between Harry and your boyfriend have been going on for years now and Harry would only ever see Draco for his past mistakes and... the more recent ones. The only reason he continues to bother your brother anymore is to keep up the charade of hating him. In reality he actually doesn't mind Harry anymore, at least that's what he tells you. In the end it'll all be worth it.

You were nervously wringing your hands as you were walking towards the room of requirements to meet your secret lover. You wanted Draco to ask you to be his date to the yule ball and publicly announce yourselves as a couple, you was tired of sneaking around and pretending to fake fight in front of your brother and your friends. You wanted to hold his hand as you walked through the halls and have him walk you to classes and sit next to you in the ones you did have together. You wanted him to kiss you good morning when you see each other in the great hall for breakfast and kiss you good night when you go to your respective dorms or houses. It was exhausting having to come up with excuses to see each other and hard trying to come with reasons to argue in front of people when all you wanted to say was that you loved him and thought he was perfect.

In the moments where girls would come up to him and shamelessly flirt with him because, for all they knew, he was single, You just wanted to come up to him right in front of the other girl and show that he was yours, and you were his. Unfortunately, Draco just had to go and mess things up without knowing the trouble it'd bring for your relationship. Not that you knew you would fall for each other.

Now you were trying to find a way of asking Draco to the Yule ball. For a year and a couple of months already you've been hinting at exposing yourselves and let everyone know you're a couple. However, every time you tried to make an actual conversation of it Draco would deflect and change the conversation or would shut down the idea completely. You knew it was scary and Harry's opinion mattered to you, way more than she'd care to admit but she loved Draco and wanted everyone to know it.

The room of requirements appeared itself to you; your reoccurring meeting spot. The anxiety of rejection making your palms sweat a little.

"Hello, My love." He leaned down to kiss you. "How were your lessons?"

"Boring as usual, I zoned out in Mcgonagalls class and of course she noticed and called me out." You huffed plopping down on the sofa that always appeared in the room. The room of requirements always showed up as a living area with a fireplace and couches with an assortment of fruits, snacks, and drinks. Sometimes even a bed for other times... "I had no clue what she was asking I guessed but I still got the question wrong. It was so embarrassing."

You let out a sigh. "Anyways how were yours?"

"The same as every other day, I missed you." He sat down next to you, pulling you closer to him so that you sat between his legs as he played with your hands. Your heartbeat sped up at his touch also knowing you had to bring up the yule ball. You inhaled and decided it was now or never. "Draco, How would you feel if we went to the Yule ball together?"

He got up, loosening his tie a little. You got up from the couch knowing where this was going.

"Y/N I don't think it's such a good idea." Your cheeks began to heat up with anger. You've been together for almost two years now and he wanted to reject You? Your mind was racing with all the bullshit excuses he would use, all the excuses he would bring up you were ready to rebuttle. Now your insecurities began to creep up. What if there was someone else? What if he was embarrassed by you?

"And why not?" Your voice raised a tiny bit, you tried to keep it in check to not start a screaming match.

"It's not safe for you, My father-"

"Screw your father Draco, When are you going to stand up to him?" She rolled her eyes.

"He hates your brother and if he finds out we're together who knows what he'll do to you."

"My safety is the least of my worries. Besides I'm not scared of your father."

"Your safety is my top priority Y/N, don't you understand?" He steps closer, grabbing your face in his hands.

You remove his hands and shake your head. "I don't believe that."

"You don't believe that I care for you, after all this time." His head tilts to the side, a look of hurt flashed before his face.

"No I do, I just dont believe my safety is your top priority, you're afraid of your father and what he'll do to you as well."

"You don't know what he's capable of."

"I have an idea but I don't care."

"Aren't you afraid of what Harry and your friends would say?"

"Yes and No, They'll have their opinions but nothing they say will change how much I love you." You raise your head to seem taller somehow.

He paced around the couch. "Just give me a couple more months to introduce the idea to my family."

"I've been bringing this up for months Draco and the yule ball is the perfect way to do it."

"I know we have it but just give me a little more time." He begged

"A little more time? really?" You laugh bitterly. "I can't do this anymore."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I love you, you know that, but I want to be able to tell the world how much I love you because I can't handle seeing another person flirting with you because they dont know that your mine or other guys approaching me when I'm not the slightest bit interested." You gently grab his face pulling him closer. "It's just not enough for me. I'm tired of this."

"I love you too but I can't."

You took your hands off of his face and stepped back. "I'm done."

"What would happen if your brother knew, you think he would just step back and let us be happy?" He shouted as you began to leave. Tears were forming in your eyes. "Or your friends, they'll try to separate us and you know it!"

"Don't you dare pretend you know anything about them! I already told you I don't care if they don't approve." You turn back to argue. "You're not even afraid of my friends, you're afraid of what your little pureblood buddies will say."

He stayed silent, you could tell he was trying to bite back his tears. "You're a coward, We obviously didn't think this through in the beginning." You look down refusing to show that you were about to cry.

"I-" You interrupted. "No Malfoy, I think I know what you want, its all clear now." You back away from him. "These past few years were amazing but I can't keep us a secret anymore. I think we need time to ourselves."

You walked out of the room of requirements with warm tears streaming down your face, but he wasn't going to let you go that easily. He ran after you shouting out your name in attempt to catch your attention but you didn't turn back.

Draco noticed Harry has approached you, engulfing you in a hug. "Y/N what happened?" Harry met Draco's eyes. "What did Malfoy do to you?"

"Nothing." You tried to force Harrys attention elsewhere. "I was just being emotional, you know? and I kind of just broke down in the wrong place."

"C'mon lemme walk you to your dorm."

~~~

It was breakfast time a couple days before the Yule ball. Since the argument with Draco, Y/N has been attempting to lift up her own spirits. Trying to convince herself that she was an independent person, she didn't need him. Besides, he seemed to be getting along fine without her now.

In Draco's mind however he was anxious to be with her again. He was sure she was going to get over it and come back to him in no time. This was an ongoing argument between them anyways and her and Draco always came to an understanding.

At least that was his thought process before he overheard a group of girls gossiping about Cedric Diggory. They were talking about a girl who they thought the popular Hufflepuff would ask the upcoming ball. Normally he'd be uninterested but Y/N's name was brought up to conversation. They were rating if they'd be a good pair and if she was even good enough for Cedric, as if they had any right to. Dracos mind became wrapped in jealousy.  'Prick' he thought. He never had any bad blood with Diggory til now when he suddenly showed an interest in Y/N. He couldn't stand the idea. He also thought that if he were to show up with a date you'd also be infuriated and come crawling back to him. And he knew just the person to ask.

~~~

Later when everyone was in Snapes class writing down notes, Hermione next to Ron who was next to Harry. You were across from Hermione. Ron was complaining about not having a date to the ball. "This is mad, at this rate we'll be the only ones in our year without dates." He said, while Snape was walking by and he snapped Rons head to his notebook.

He continues and leans towards Harry and breathes out a laugh as he says "Well, us and neville."

"Then again he can take himself." Harry laughs along.

You and Hermione share a look. You rolled your eyes and continues to do your work as Hermione tells them that Neville already has a date.

"Oh now I'm really depressed." Ron whines.

On the other side of the table Fred sends a note to Ron telling him to find a date before all the good ones are gone. Whatever that's supposed to mean.

"Who are you going with then?" Ron whispers to his brother. In response Fred chucks a paper ball at Angelina Johnson. Who looks annoyed when she looks back at him.

"Angelina-" Fred mouths while pretending to dance. "Will you go to the ball with me?" She agrees and Fred winks back at Ron.

Ron then leans towards Hermione starting off the conversation with "Why Hermione, You're a girl." 'Honestly Ron' you thought 'This boy couldn't be any more stupid.'

"Oh well spotted" she retorts. Harry taps Ron on his arm to warn him that snapes coming their way but its too late. Snape slaps Ron on his head with a book as well as harry and walks off, reading someone's notebook.

"C'mon it's one thing for a bloke to go alone, for a girl it's just sad." Ron makes a 'sympathetic' face at her.

"I won't be going alone because believe it or not someones asked me." She slams her book closed, hands it to Snape, walks back to respond with "And I said yes" she whisper shouts as she leaves.

"God Ron, you're such an idiot." You say.

"How was I supposed to know?"

"You could've said it in a better way, is all I'm trying to say." she puts her hands up in surrender.

"Well, what about you (y/n)?" He says suggestively. "Any eligible bachelors worthy enough?"

"No but I'm definitely not going with you."

"Why not?"

"Because she's my sister" Harry gives him a face as if it was obvious.

"Exactly it'll be embarrassing if I go with you-" You notice how he looked down. "It's not you, well, it is." You couldn't find the right words without making him feel worse. "It's just that if I go with you, it'll seem like I couldn't get a date of my own so I had to go with my brother's best friend type of thing."

"You understand don't you?"

"Yeah whatever" He responds and changes the subject.

~~~

The same topic is brought up again later that evening when you hung out with Harry in the Gryffindor common room. Nobody would shut up about it so you left. You were reading a book, trying to study for a defense against the dark arts test and you did not wanna get on Moodys bad side so you didn't see when you bumped into someone.

"Oops sorry, wasn't looking where I was going." You wanted to finish your last sentence before you looked up and saw that it was one of the champions. Cedric Diggory. You also recognized him from the quidditch world cup/port-key incident that happened before school. You didn't formally meet.

"No worries." He smiled. "You're Harry's sister, right?"

"I'm (y/n)." You put your hand out for him to shake. He shook her hand, "I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to properly introduce myself, I'm Cedric Diggory."

You chuckled and nodded your head. "I know."

He tilted his head then realized he was practically famous around Hogwarts now. "Right." He smiled again.

"Excuse me, Ive got to go, it's almost curfew and I definitely don't want to get caught out."

"Don't worry about it, I'm a prefect. I could walk you to your house if you'd like?"

"Sure" You accepted his offer, not being foolish enough to walk around without the proper authority to get you out of trouble.

~~~

After that night with Cedric, You had spent more and more time with him. It would always be a coincidence that you'd meet. In classes they never knew they had together, walking beside each other in a rush to get to any of their meals, etc. the only times you would both see each other on purpose was in the halls talking to your friends and going to say hi to one another or when you went to wish Cedric luck. You were friends, you thought it was a nice change hanging out freely with someone instead of sneaking around. And just hanging out with someone other than Draco in her free time in general. Not that you didn't still love him it was just nice.

What you didn't know was that the platinum haired slytherin saw every interaction. Every laugh, every smile, every that was innocent in the eyes of everyone else; was criminal in Dracos. He was pissed so as revenge he decided to make his "relationship" with Pansy more public in an attempt to make you jealous. His plan was futile since you weren't paying the slightest bit of attention to him. Or so he thought. You saw every interaction that he and Pansy had and tried to play it off cool, not let him see how much it affected you. He made his decision and you broke up with him, you can't claim him anymore.

The day before the Yule Ball came quick, you were walking around the lake and Cedric came running up behind you.

"(y/n)! Wait up!" He waved you down.

You turned around "Hey Ced" you smiled. "what's up?"

"So the balls tomorrow..." He suggested

"yes..." You urged him to continue, a slight smile was playing on your lips

"Would you- and I know this is an odd question to ask but I do think we've been getting closer..."

"Oh get on with it!" You yelled

"Would you like to go the ball with me?"

"Yes, Yes I would." You laughed, he let out a breath of relief and hugged you.

"Oh thank Merlin, I thought you were also going to reject me."

"No way somebody rejected you!"

"Remember that girl I told you about?" you nodded, "Cho said she already had somebody else."

"I'm sorry Ced" You rested your hand on his shoulder in sympathy.

"It's alright (y/n), now I get to go with somebody better." He playfully pushed you. "Hey! I just realized I was your second choice, you twat!" She joked and pushed back.

"I will never forgive you for this Diggory!" You said dramatically pretending to swoon. He played along, grabbing your hand, pulling you closer to him. "Oh, how must I redeem myself."

"It cannot be done" You continued the act by pretending to ignore him.

"How about butterbeer on me?" You glanced at him. "Done."

"Cool, I'll meet you at the stairs by the great hall before the ball starts, remember the champions walk and all that."

"Alright."

~~~

You were nervous as you walked down the steps to the great hall to meet up with your date. It was a magical moment, he had his back to you. He hadn't noticed you were coming down until Parvarti Patil pointed you out. He turned around and grinned, reaching out a hand to help you from the steps.

"You look stunning." He complimented. A light blush spread on your cheeks as she thanked him.

You joined the other champions in a line with their dates. You saw Hermoine and Victor Krum together, in your mind you applauded Hermoine for scoring a date with the Durmstrang boy. During the ceremonial dance, the champions had to do with their dates you secretly tried to look for Draco through the crowd of students who were watching, but you couldn't find him. ' With Parkinson' you thought bitterly.

When people started to join in on the dancing with their partners you decided to excuse yourself to get a drink and hopefully cool the rage you felt when you thought of Draco and Pansy together. 'They were probably in a broom closet snogging' you internally rolled your eyes at that. Cedric came looking for you a little while after, asking if you were alright. "As good as I can be." You responded.

Cedrics brows furrowed. "What's wrong? Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?" he asked panicked, "No, no you're great." You sighed. "You're practically perfect and I don't wanna make you think I didn't enjoy spending time with you or that you're a second choice..."

"But you'd rather spend your time with some other guy?"

"Not the way I would've worded it. But yes, there's this guy that I really like, we were dating for while actually and..." You sighed again. "Nobody knew,  I wanted to tell people and he didn't so we broke up."

"And now your here with me." Cedric gave her a small smile. "Hey, listen it happens I'm glad we're here together even if it's just as friends."

You felt your heart lift up, no longer weighed down with guilt for leading him on. He put his arm around you, you let your head rest on his chest.

~~~

The night was almost coming to end half of the students already went up to bed, the other half was still dancing the night away. You and Cedric included, you shouted and jumped and actually danced, enjoying this time. You forgot about Draco for a period of time, ignoring him as he danced with Pansy. That is until Cedric excused himself to go to the restroom. Draco came up to you with a determined look on his face.

"Ditching dates now?" You commented.

"I left her with Blaise, she'll be fine." He shrugged. "Where'd Diggory go?"

"Bathroom." You tried to be dry in conversation so that he'd leave you alone.

"You sure he didn't ditch you?" He replies with a smirk. You scoffed, "Like you care."

"Contrary to your belief I do actually care about you."

"Doesn't seem like it."

"I'm tired of this Y/N, I love you and this time away from you has made me realize how much I need you."

"Then prove it."

[daisybeewrites]

July — d.j.

for @dreamcxtcherr ‘s 3k writing challenge. congrats lena!!

word count: 1.8k

warnings: mention of car crash/death, mention of alcohol consumption, daisy cries, i think thats it lmk if not!!

ship: R x daisy johnson

okay y’all… first ever anggstttttt!!! i’m way too excited about it. if you want a fully immersive experience, i recommend listening to july by noah cyrus slowed + reverb

(gif uncredited on pinterest (ugh, i hate that. credit a gif if you use it!! im trying to find the owner)) update — found owner

It was another mission. Another nightmarish fire-fight where you almost lost a limb, almost lost a friend, almost lost your life. Twenty-four hours later and you’re back home, safe.

Well, as safe as you can be when your engagement is on the verge of breaking off.

You stare at the simple ring on your left hand. White gold band, a tiny amethyst set to the left of a diamond. There was a nearly identical one lying next to the sink, the only difference being the switched places of the glittering gems.

You know she didn’t do it purposefully. You had both been exhausted after what was supposed to be an in-and-out mission turned into a hostage situation. Daisy did what she always did as soon as you were home — take off her gauntlets, wash her hands in the sink, grab a snack, and hop into a steaming shower.

But you still can’t stop yourself from staring at it, eyes fixed, hands shaking, breath held and mind racing.

You used to join her. You would wash each other’s hair, ease each other’s sore muscles with delicate touches on tender purple-black bruises. She would lean into you, letting you braid her hair and falling asleep in your arms, drifting into a deep slumber. It was intimate, lovely; it was normal and perfect.

Taking a sip of your room-temperature beer, you slide off the cool granite of the kitchen island. You had a new routine after missions now, you just had to get used to it.

You hear the shower shut off, bare feet pad into your cosy bedroom, and the door shut with a loud creak. The minute squeak of the mattress tells you that Daisy flopped into bed.

A ghost of a smile lights your face. It looks more like a grimace, you think, as you check your distorted reflection in the green glass of your beer bottle. Chucking the empty bottle in the recycling, you run a hand through your dirty, salty hair. The comfy sweats you changed into an hour ago would need to be washed, the dirt still adorning your skin rubbing off on the black material. You exhale before heading down the hall towards the bathroom.

The tiled room is filled with steam, the mirror fogged up so that only a blurry outline of your silhouette could be seen. You are unrecognizable.

How fitting.

The quick, cold shower you take does nothing to ease your mind or body. You wipe the mirror in a circle, taking out a first aid kit.

With all your cuts bandaged and the proper creams Jemma had snuck to you and Daisy applied to your fresh bruises, you headed into the hallway in your towel.

Daisy is standing in the kitchen, lilac lounge shorts you bought her last Christmas showing off her tanned and scarred legs. She looks warm and soft, a very different Daisy than the superhero who had broken a mob boss’ legs just hours before. Her hair is wet and in braids. You frown. You always braid her hair.

If she hears you, she doesn’t turn around, so you take a moment to admire her. Ten seconds, that’s all you give yourself. It was a stressful mission, if you stare too long she might snap. From the back, you can’t see the dark circles you know are there, but you can see the tension in her shoulders and the slight tilt of her head as she ponders what to eat.

You say nothing as you go to the bedroom to change. You find a black pair of SHIELD sweats and an old, holey t-shirt you vaguely remember stealing from Fitz. A presence at the doorway catches your attention.

“Hi,” Daisy says tentatively. Your breath caught in your throat, your lungs holding the air captive until Daisy spoke again.

“I missed you.”

Your eyes widened. Maybe tonight wouldn’t end with one of you on the couch, clutching a six pack while the other cried as quietly as possible, tucked into cold, lonely sheets.

“Braiding my hair, I mean,” She clarified. Her fingers twisted together, rigid posture giving away her nerves.

The air felt humid, as if the open window had suddenly sucked all the AC out and let the mid-summer heat in. Your memory flashes to the last time you and Daisy had a normal, happy conversation.

The edges are fuzzy, but the pure joy in Daisy’s chocolate eyes is clear. Fairy lights strung haphazardly around the living room, a movie playing in the background, your lips on hers. Blankets make a ceiling over your head that shut out the rest of the world, this moment was only for you two. You played with the thin metal band on her ring finger, she ran her hands through her hair. Her matching ring scratched your scalp lightly. You both smile as you pull away. You whisper childhood stories, laugh at the funny parts and offer melancholic smiles at the not-so-lighthearted parts. You were happy.

That night you got the call — Lincoln Campbell, yours and Daisy’s best friend, had wrapped his car around a telephone pole coming off of a long shift at the hospital. His blood alcohol was almost .40.

Eggshells littered the house from the time you got back from the funeral. One wrong word, Daisy would snap and spend hours punching a bag until her fingers bled. You would fill those hours with whatever was closer — wine or your car keys. You pulled yourself out of your head, realizing you should answer her.

“I missed it, too,” You breathed.

Daisy made a small, unintelligible noise before collapsing against the door frame. You froze for only a second, your mind racing through possibilities. Was she bleeding internally? Was it her back again? Did she get shot and not notice until now?

You leap over to her, catching her as she crumbles to the hardwood floor.

A quiet sob wracks her chest. Your hands hover over her slouched back, unsure how to comfort her. At this moment, Daisy feels foreign. Her sudden vulnerability alerts you to how she’s been holding her emotions in for god knows how long.

“Daisy…” You start, hesitantly.

Daisy hiccups loudly, another wave of tears washing over her.

“Tell me to leave, I’ll pack my bags,” Daisy cried, “But I don’t, I-I don’t want to lose you!”

Burning tears gather on your lash line, threatening to fall at her words. You never could stand to see Daisy cry.

Your brows furrow slightly in confusion before you realize what Daisy is talking about. After Lincoln’s death, you two had fought increasingly more often until Daisy locked herself away or spent the night at May’s, and you went for drives until your car ran on empty. On those nights, bottles of wine disappeared from the cabinet without a trace.

Daisy sits up, stamping down her sobs, seemingly resigning herself to the fact that you aren’t going to say anything. Her trembling lip and red eyes pierce your heart. The astronomical distance between you two seems atomic now. You reach out quicker than lightning, shushing her cries and rubbing her back.

“Do you want to go?” You asked after a while. Your knees dig uncomfortably into the floor, your shoulder hurts from the ridges in the doorframe.

Daisy sniffles, her hair falling into her face as she looks away. You crane your neck down, carefully tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You know I’m afraid of change, I guess that’s why we’ve stayed the same,” You sigh, your chest constricting and squeezing the broken glass pieces of your heart.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself to continue, “But if you want to find a new life, someone who loves you better than I do, darling, I understand.”

Daisy is still frozen, stare burning holes in the floor. You’re glad that the two of you are at home, the poly-tectic adaptive materials hidden between the walls keeping the house from collapsing. By the slight groan of the foundation, you can imagine Daisy could bring down a mountain with the amount of pain she’s in.

Which can only mean one thing.

“I’m not enough,” You stated. It wasn’t a question. You glance down, a glint in the low light cast from the lamp on the bedside table catching your eye. She has her ring on…

Daisy finally, finally shakes her head ‘no’. You let go of a breath, guilt building every second that passes. She isn’t happy. You shouldn’t be happy that she’s staying.

“Feels like a lifetime, we’ve been trying to get by while we’re dying inside,” You say, gently.

Daisy snaps her eyes to yours, a desperation in them you recognize as grief.

“So much of the past year has been consumed by grief. We never took time off, we never talked about it. I’ve done a lot of things wrong, loving you being one,” She whispers.

You nod, there is no denying that you each had a part in getting to where you are now. Delicately, you grab her hand. She squeezes it, a rush of small vibrations traveling up your arm. Your chest flutters at the familiar affection.

“So have I,” You assure her. She gradually falls towards you, exhausted. You let her rest her head on your shoulder, her breath evening out as her arms wrap around you. You feel hot tears flow down your face, fall onto her hair. Slowly, you pull Daisy closer to you.

Hours later, the sun peeks over the top of the mountain range in the distance. You had adjusted the two of you sometime around two a.m., no longer able to feel your legs from how the floor cut off your circulation.

Sometime around three, you had gathered the courage to move Daisy to the bed, trying hard not to wake her. She had only turned over and not let go of your hand.

You haven’t slept at all tonight, thoughts spinning until you force yourself to pause and count to ten, only to repeat the pattern.

You know what you have to do. You know what’s best for the both of you. You’ll leave, pack your bags and find a place to stay until you can scrape up enough money to rent an apartment. You’ll go to therapy, learn to live without Lincoln, without Daisy. Eventually, Daisy will heal, too. You both have the team at your backs, no matter what happens. She would be okay.

But you know you won’t. The fear of losing Daisy, of losing your life, your home, yourself stops you. You can’t move on. You can’t move forward.

You know that the big changes it takes to heal could cost you Daisy. So, you stay the same. You give into fear. You’ll never be enough, never love Daisy right, never quite heal fully — and neither will Daisy. But you still stay.

You’ll always stay the same.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ahhhh how was it? did you love it? any feedback? want more? put any thoughts/feelings/questions/concerns in the comments or my ask box!! i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoyed reading it even more!!

<<3

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (8b)

word count; 9699

summary; following the events of a call, you pick up some out-of-hours work, and thomas comes along for the journey.

notes; y’all are gonna’ love this one.

warnings; arson, heavy drug use references, mild reference to animal abuse.

The firetrucks ahead of you were loud, sirens and flashing lights, the horn going continually as traffic swerved to the side, and Newt did his best to keep up with them, following in their wake as they opened up the traffic into clear paths to move through. Finally getting your seatbelt done up, you huffed a little, pushing strands of hair back out of your face and behind your ears. Luckily for you all, the call was on the edges of the city, not the centre, and so the roads were widening out and weren’t nearly as crowded as you began to near your scene.

Clouds of smoke, thick and grey, rising up from a small warehouse that was on the edges of a house, and there were crowds gathered around, ones that weren’t unfamiliar to you, some faces you vaguely recognised from seeing them briefly pass by in the crowds when you’d first met Aaron. As the truck came to a stop Newt lifted a hand to rub over his jaw, attention on the crowds that had gathered around.

“One of us can go inside, one of us should stay with the truck.” He twisted to look at you, the firemen already gearing up as Thomas assessed the scene, and Gally walked around to the edge of the building, following the wires linking up to the house. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

“Deal.” You placed your palm out flat, matching his, and banging your fist against it for a second, before laying your hand flat, and cursing as he took on a form of only two fingers sticking out. “You always go rock! Screw you!”

He smirked, shrugging a little as you pouted. “You always go paper; I learned and changed tactic.”

“You suck.” You groaned, climbing into the back to retrieve your go-bag from one of the cupboards, taking a look at it, but realising that you were more likely only going to need a roll of bandages and some gauze, quick sources to send them out to Newt, advice on what they were going to need.

You had your suspicions about what you were seeing, and from the second your partner cracked his door open, you knew your thoughts had been confirmed, because the smell of it was enough to make you cough a little, dry and crisp in the air as you inhaled, and you understood now why the firemen were already wearing their masks, even when just standing outside. Blue flashing lights and muted sirens signalled the arrival of the police, beginning to break up the crowds and start backing people away, and you didn’t envy the job that they had going on.

Hopping down from the back of the truck and making sure to lock it up tight to protect Newt, as he stood carefully in the doorway talking to Minho about the procedures that would be taking place, you wandered away toward where Chuck was standing by Gally’s side at the Squad truck, the two Lieutenant’s trying to develop a plan. As you walked, you couldn't help but look over the scenes, searching for that familiar face, and smiling a little when the boy you’d grown fond of was absent from the scene, encouraging you to believe that he was alright, and escaping this lifestyle.

You bumped your elbow into Chuck’s as you arrived at his side, nose wrinkling a little as the strong smell of marijuana was even stronger from here, and he turned to look at you, smoking a little as he saw you.

“Newt figures it’d be best for one of us to go in, and send out anyone inside for quick medical advice, it’ll speed it up, having a van full of drugs parked up here is pretty risky.” You nodded over your shoulder, and Thomas licked over his lower lip, nodding his head as he tried to clear his thoughts.

“That someone you, then?” The man with dirty-blond hair was staring down at you, and you dipped your head in a nod. “Thomas’ll get you all hooked up, and Squad is going on, Truck is going to start trying to put out some of these flames, and cut the power inside.” He patted Chuck on the shoulder, before the young boy was waving at you, and the Lieutenant you were left with turned to the vehicle he commanded, opening up one of the hatches.

“It’s going to be really smoky in there, so try and keep your eyes on me, okay?” you nodded your head, dropping your back to the ground as you accepted the jacket that Thomas was holding out to you, tugging it over your shoulders, but not bothering to fasten it up just yet. A pair of pants followed, and you pulled them on over the top of your uniform trousers, adjusting them around your waist with the little toggle, and zipping up the heavy-duty jacket to protect yourself, already beginning to feel overheated. “If you lose sight of me, just start flashing this torch on your shoulder, and I’ll come find you, alright? You won’t be able to see much more than a few metres in front of yourself.”

He lifted your hand up, palm closing over the top of your own, and making sure you could feel the large button on the side under the tip of your finger, waiting for you to confirm it, before letting go.

Toeing off your shoes, you left them in a mismatched set by one of the wheels, and taking the boots from Thomas that he offered you. Sitting on the floor to put them on, you adjusted them on your feet, gasping a little at the fit.

“These boots fit my feet!”

He glanced down at you, smirking a little, and nodding his head. “I know, I ordered a pair of boots that were the right size for you a few weeks ago, so that you don’t trip as much wearing the men’s boots. Brenda chewed my ear off about you not having any.” You beamed, lacing them up tightly and tucking the laces inside of the shoes securely, before taking the hands Thomas had outstretched to you, and letting him pull you back up to your feet.

“They’re really comfortable. Much better.”

“I’m glad.” He held out a glove for you, letting you slip your fingers into it and fastening it tightly around your wrist at the toggle, before tucking it under the edge of the sleeve. He repeated it with the other hand, tightening it at your wrist and tucking it into the sleeve, and you were almost entirely suited up. “You’re going to have a lot on your back with the oxygen tank and your bag, you gonna’ be okay?”

You took the tank for him, the weight of it straining your arms little, but you adjusted it over your shoulders, a mask following it, and you gripped it in your hand, using the other to retrieve your medkit. “I’ll be alright, as long as we aren’t in there for too long.” It was a struggle for you to get it over the top of the tank, and Thomas chuckled as he watched you go, before finally, you had it adjusted, and you just hoped there was always going to be somewhere near you if you needed something from inside, instead of having to take it on and off.

“It’s my aim to get us in and out as quickly as possible. There’s going to be a lot of flammables in there, and the police are going to need to go in and gather evidence, Minho’s our resident arson expert, so he’ll stay behind and help check whether it’s an accident or not, but we need to sweep for anyone in there.”

“You think there will be?”

“Honestly?” He looked at the building, placing a helmet onto your head as soon as you had adjusted your mask, and he shook his head. “No, I don’t. Normally when this happens, people are more eager to just run, and try to tend to the wounds themselves. They don’t want to stick around and be arrested, but we have to check, in case they’re unconscious.”

He pulled his mask down over his own head, placing a hand on your upper arm once his helmet was on, a loose hold as he guided you toward the house, his grip slipping down to your forearm instead, and once he was approaching the door, the rest of truck already waiting there, he let you go. They positioned themselves on either side of the door, and you copied those motions, moving to stand next to Fry.

Thomas turned his back to the door, looking over the crew, and giving them all a nod. Raising his foot and kicking hard backwards, the wood around the door splintered, flying open into a horror scene of flames and smoke, which rapidly curled out around him as he paced forwards to avoid the heat.

He had been correct, you could barely see inside of the doorway, grey and orange filling your sights, and you paused, watching as the smoke seemed to swallow up every firefighter that walked inside. Thomas was left standing next to you, seeming to sense your hesitation, and he reached across to turn on the torch on your shoulder, lighting it up as his own followed, before he was giving you a nod, and encouraging you into the house.

You followed closely behind him, the sound of your own breathing within the mask filling your ears, heart racing, and you felt as though you were in some kind of sci-fi movie, stepping into an alternate reality as only three feet into the smoke, the light from the outside world was blocked out, darkness taking over, only lit up by the torches. It took you a moment to adjust, admiring how the rest of the Squad team managed to jump straight into action, adjusting to it without restraint.

Much before this house, you had never been inside of a burning building before, the teams you’d worked with never seemed to flow this well, or perhaps they did and you’d just never stuck around long enough to notice, but with your house and crew, it felt like a well-oiled machine, everyone having their place to make things work, and you swelled with pride and being an integral part of the functioning.

You were simply left to follow Thomas around, pausing each time he stopped to speak into the radio on his shoulder as he reported to the other teams, and you bumped into him every time he came to a sudden stop. There was evidence that this room had only recently been in use; phones left behind, mugs of tea and the remnants of charred papers that had been left out.

Melted plastic, warped furniture and charred walls, the fire glowing brightly, even through the clouds of smoke. Glass shattered at the windows around you as the team outside broke them to begin spraying water inside, attempting to cool down the heat inside, and you were sure you’d walked several laps of the downstairs as it finally came up clear. Your eyes were just beginning to adjust, to make out more than just shapes, but to actually come into focus, blurry and controlled mess clearing up to offer you a picture of the room.

Thomas paused, talking into the radio as he told his team to begin backing out, promising to do the final sweep, and you watch the various other dull lights in the room begin to flicker away as they filtered out of the building around you. Glancing around, you scuffled your toes against the floor, kicking at a piece of rubble, and you paused as you watched some of the dust a little further up move.

You blinked, staring at pieces of fallen scrap metal around a table, trying to focus back on it, and there was no movement this time. You were almost ready to give up, turning your head away, before there was a brief hint of movement once again, and you sighed. Thomas was still standing still, his back to you, and you took only a few steps away from him, trying to navigate through the flames to get a clearer look at the ash and dust clouds that were beginning to settle.

The closer you got, the more evident it became, the sound of scuffling and whimpering making you pick up your speed, concern racing through you. It went silent, the flames curling up around you, and you couldn't find the source of the noise again, finding the spot that you swore you’d seen movement going completely empty. Sighing, and shaking yourself down, the ache in your shoulders was becoming unbearable, and you rolled your head from side to side, standing back up from where you were crouched down.

Rubbing a hand at your shoulder to try and loosen it, it did little to help when you had several straps of the bag blocking your movements, and you looked back to where you had been. The spot was empty, and you swallowed thickly, knowing that with all the walking in circles you’d corn, you had no idea which way was left and which was right, or which was to go to get back out, and you couldn't see Thomas’ light anywhere in the room.

You stood back up, walking to where you’d been, and trying to get a sense of any direction he might’ve taken. Wandering forward a few feet from where you were, rows of tables lined with trays of what had once been marijuana plants was evident on either side of you, and there were over ten different ways he could have gone on his final search.

You could try calling for him, but with the noise in the room, you doubted he’d hear you, and it probably wasn’t the best bet to wander off to find him. Instead, you backed up, retracing your steps back to where you had once been, chastising yourself for having been reckless. Reaching up for the torch on your shoulder, you tried to stand as far from the flames around you as possible, flashing it steadily and continually, the heavy button making your finger cramp up after a few minutes.

You sighed, letting go of the torch and flexing your fingers for a minute, curling them and uncurling them from a fist as you tried to ease the aching, and before you could reach for it again, panic beginning to bubble up, there was a figure breaking through the smoke.

“Where the hell did you go?” His hands found your upper arms, twisting you side to side as he checked you over, and you shrugged a little in his touch, enough relief upon seeing him to make your knees buckle a little as your anxiety began to settle, and you could hear the disappointment laced in his tone. “I told you to stick with me, this is a burning building, you can’t just wander off-”

“I’m sorry.” His words died out, fading out on a sigh as his shoulders slumped, his touch falling away from your arms. “I thought I saw movement, I could have sworn that I did, but there was nothing there. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I was just worried. I didn't want you to get hurt, alright?” you nodded, choking back the lump of emotions in your throat, and he glanced over your shoulder. “Where did you see movement?”

You twisted, pointing to the collapsed pile of metal plating and desks. “It was nothing, I checked it out, I couldn't see much.”

“Follow the pathway, alright? Straight ahead, Brenda will come and meet you, alright?” He squeezed at your shoulder, hand sliding down to find your hand, and he squeezed it again, tugging you a little closer. “Just walk straight ahead, and I’ll double-check for you, alright? Straight ahead until you see Bren, you go this.”

You squeezed his hand back, both in acknowledgement and in thanks, knowing he was doing this just to ease your concern, and then, he was brushing past you, and you were following his guidance, cautious steps in a straight line forwards, searching for Brenda.

Her figure made itself known, the smoke thinning near the doorway as the flames surrounding the entrance were being extinguished by the firefighters outside, and she reached a hand out to you. Slipping your gloved hand into hers, a little sigh of relief left you, your entire body aching from stress, and the weight of the equipment you were carrying. As soon as you cleared the wall of smoke, stepping out into bright and burning daylight, you hissed a little as your eyes adjusted, having acclimated to just how dark it had gotten inside of the burning shed.

You stumbled down the steps, gasping a little as you finally reached the bottom, bracing your hands on your knees. Dropping your helmet to the ground, it rolled away a little bit, and your skin felt sticky with sweat, hating how overheated you always felt in the suits, only after you ever left the building. An unusual phenomenon, but it was starting to form a pattern. As it clattered away across the ground, you lifted your helmet up and off of your face, flushed cheeks cooling as soon as the wind swept over them, and the acrid smell of burning and charred wood met your nose.

“You gotta’ work out more.”

“I carry a ten-pound bag and push a stretcher, I’m perfectly in shape for my job.” You muttered, Brenda laughing a little as she patted at your shoulder, before letting you stand up straight. She helped to lift the oxygen tank down from your shoulders, and as the weight slipped away, you swayed a little, catching your balance and sighing out in relief. Your med-kit fell to the floor, and you rubbed a hand at each shoulder to ease tense muscles, already planning the hot bath with muscle soak powder that you’d be taking as soon as you got home.

As you picked it back up, stepping away from the building, you shucked off the oversized jacket you wore too, padding over to where Brenda was unpacking your equipment into the truck, your sock-clad feet pressing to the concrete for a second as you handed over your boots, before pushing your toes back into your sneakers and flexing them a little. Leaning on the side of the truck, you glanced over at the doorway, worrying your lip a little as you waited to see Thomas emerging. It was a few seconds longer, and you filled the time with tying your laces, before he was finally revealing himself to your view.

There was nobody with him, not that you could see, and yet as the floorboards creaked under his weight, you could make out the squirming package in his arms, a charred blanket wrapped around whatever it is, and your breathing seemed to stop entirely. Your feet were moving underneath you as you made your way over to him, his feet carrying him to a stop before you, and you hesitated for only a second as your hands hovered over the smoking fabric, before you were pinching the edge of it, and peeling it back.

You were stuck between relieved and pitying at the little face staring back at you. The immense fear that it had been a baby, was something that had made your entire body stiffen and blood run cold, and you relaxed a little as you looked down at the bundle, but it didn't make you feel any less upset about what you saw. Burned and raw flesh in a few patches, golden fur stained with ash and black soot, and scared eyes as the animal cowered in Thomas’ hold, shaking violently, and your jaw dropped.

You couldn't see Thomas’ face very clearly as you looked up to him, more your own reflection in the ash stained glass of his mask, and you reached up, taking his helmet from his head to free matted brown strands, hands on each side of his face to peel the mask away to follow, dropping both items down to the pavement, and his eyes were just as wide as your own as he stared back, in total shock.

“You were right. There was someone else in there.”

“Who would leave a puppy in there? What kind of monster would do that, Thomas?” Your voice cracked a little as you spoke, reaching a hand out slowly to the animal to let it sniff your hand, and it trembled for a second, face turned away, before giving in. You expected a nip, or a growl, or simply to be ignored, but as you held your hand out for the dog, it leaned in, a dry nose pressing to your hand as you were sniffed, before a dry and rough tongue was following in a weak lick, and you gasped a little as it rubbed the edge of an unharmed face over your fingers. “Oh, you’re just a sweetie, aren’t you?”

“It has some burns and some scratches, but I think it’ll be alright.”

His tone was hopeful, and you nodded your head, trying your best to believe it. “Bring it over to the ambulance, I’ll see what I can do with what we have.” He only nodded, following after you in a slow walk to the back of the truck. The crowd had been cleared, the police keeping the few nosey stranglers back, but Newt was packing away medical equipment as you opened the door.

His eyes went wide, jaw dropping a little as he took in the armful that Thomas was holding, now squirming a little more, and after a moment to process it, his face little up like sunshine. “Is that a puppy?”

“Yes! Someone left it in there, can you believe that?” Newt scowled at the mere idea, his eyes flicking up to glare at the house, before he was hopping down from the ambulance to sit on the edge, and holding his arms out for the bundle. The animal whimpered a little as he was handed from Thomas to Newt, before it was nosing at the spot underneath Newt’s jaw, learning his scent as well, and the blond chuckled, becoming lost in the interactions with the dog. Turning to face Thomas, he had a hint of a smile on his lips as he watched the scene. “You have water bottles in the truck, right?”

“A couple. You want one?”

“Yeah, I can try and get some water into this little guy, and put some cream on those burns, but he’s going to need a vet.” You turned to look at the animal, reaching out to scratch lightly on the top of its head, and it let out a strained yip at the affections, tail wagging slightly. “I’ll take him. By the time we get back, our shift will have finished, and I’ll find a vet still open.”

“Can I come with you?”

Your eyes snapped back to him, brows raising a little bit, and you found yourself at a loss for words. “To the, uh, vets?” He only nodded, and you swallowed thickly, processing the idea, before shrugging. You were certain that you were on better terms with Thomas now, it had been months since you’d last had a real argument, save the bickering over her got the last biscuit or the best seat on the couch every now and then, and you were starting to get along well. It couldn't be that bad, right? “Sure, yeah. That’d be really nice, actually.”

“Yeah?” He raised a brow.

“Some company, I mean. So I’m not alone, I’d like your company. I mean, anyone’s company would be nice, but yours especially.” He grinned, more like a toothy smirk, and you flushed with what from head to toe. “Oh, fuck off, just go and get the water.”

The look on his face didn’t fade, chuckling a little as he stepped back. “You got it, sweetheart, I’ll be right back.”

You scoffed at the pet name, knowing that he was just teasing you further for falling over your words, and you spun on your heel to face Newt again, his eyes already fixed on you, and you glared. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“But you were going to.” You mumbled, hearing him cackle a laugh as well, and you clambered past him into the ambulance to find something you could use as a bowl to put some water in. Newt got out, moving to sit on the concrete instead as you search through the containers, the scuffing of boots on the floor signalling that Thomas had returned, and you didn’t bother to look, unscrewing the cap of an unopened jar, and decided that it was deep enough to form a bowl.

You handed it out, the boys fawning over the animal as they filled the tub with water and it dove in eagerly. You searched for your bag, finding the cream, and trying to treat the wounds as best you could without causing it any further pain, before the team was beginning to filter over. Once the job was done, as each person progressively checked off their duties, you were joined, until the entire team was gathered around the puppy, who seemed to be soaking up the attention as it received pets and head scratches, cooing and aww-ing from all of them, until you were surrounded, and there was a due time to start getting the engines back.

You had to say goodbye to the pet temporarily, knowing that it would need to ride back in a firetruck, as none of the firemen were allergic, but it would be unhygienic and unprofessional to have it ride in the ambulance with you.

Your partner spent the ride back smirking, not bothering to say anything but glancing at you every so often for the interaction you’d had, prodding you a little bit with subtle questions about which vet you would go to, and what happened inside of the building, and whether you were going to keep the dog or if Thomas would, all of which you promptly ignored.

The trucks were already back, and a group of the firefighters were out in the main foyer playing with the dog when you pulled up, watching as they backed out of the space for the ambulance to reverse into. Some were in their casual-wear, some had yet to get changed, and yet all of them were full of a renewed glee at the idea of seeing the dog, and you almost felt bad for bringing it to an end.

You let them have a little longer, a symphony of different names flying around in their air as everybody seemed to have an opinion, and you made your way to the changing rooms. Grabbing your hoodie, you swapped out your shirt, unbuttoning it slowly and slipping it down your arms before slipping the baggy material of your hoodie over your head. Your trousers followed, folded neatly on the smooth and smart material to take home, resting on the bench, before kicking off your sneakers and sitting down long enough to tug the cold and stiff denim of your jeans up your legs.

Just as you were buttoning them back up, the door was slamming open, and you jumped a little as a bundle of fur came zooming in ahead of the body to follow, like an entirely new puppy as he had some water in his system, and some leftover meat from the sandwiches that Frypan had been making earlier in the day.

You cursed a little at the shock, a hand resting over your heart, and you sighed as it leapt underneath your palm. Shifting down to the button on your jeans after only a second, and fastening it up, a taller figure leaning against the lockers.

“Damn, did I miss the cute panties again?”

“Oh, shut it, Thomas.” You scowled, and he grinned a little as you avoided his eye, grabbing your bag and packing your work clothes into it, before sitting down to put your shoes back on, and you finally looked back up at him. He had already changed, it seemed, his casual clothes adorning his figure rather than the usual ‘Firehouse 21’ tee, and he’d swapped the heavy-duty pants and suspenders for a pair of skinny khakis. “What’s with the rope?”

He came to sit at the other end of the bench, lifting the aforementioned bundle down from his shoulder, and placing it before you. “This dog is a little erratic, I figured we’d need a little harness for actually getting it to the vets.”

You cocked a brow, smirking a little bit as you finished lacing your shoes, and letting a leg sit on either side as you faced him. “Oh, and you think you can make a whole harness and lead out of a piece of rope?”

“I don’t think I can, I know I can.” He seemed to have taken your challenge, his eyebrows furrowing and eyes squinting a little as he laid out the rope before himself, beginning to shift it and twist it into different sections. You didn’t see anything within it, random knots and a tangled mess seeming to come together, and he worked on it for a few minutes, determination filling him, and your smugness only grew as you prepared for the ‘I told you so’ that you’d be delivering.

That moment never came, however, because as he finished up, laying what looked like a bundle of knots and twists to you, it began to take shape, space for four little legs to slip through, a band running down it’s back and a rope that could be held onto connected at one end to sit over shoulder blades, and your jaw dropped.

“I told you so.” The words were stolen from you, and you glowered a little, a finger coming up to rest under your chin, pressing your lips back closed as he smirked. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. I’m a firehouse lieutenant, it’s my job to be good with knots.” He licked over his lips, your eyes fixed on his as a twinkle flashed through them. “I’m great at tying things up.”

He winked, and you scoffed again, turning away from him and taking the rope from his hands as you moved to find the puppy, he was biting at one of the shoer curtains and pulling it up and down the railing. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you today. You’re so cheeky, cut it out, I’m not used to it.”

Your words were thrown over your shoulder as you made your way over to the dog, trying to navigate little paws through the holes as it squirmed, and his laugh bounced from all of the walls. “Can’t help it, I think it’s kinda’ funny when you blush, and it’s definitely cute. To think, we spent all that time arguing, and all I had to do get you to shut up with your witty comment and stinging insults was flirt with you and throw in a few dirty jokes.”

“You’re the absolute worst.” You grumbled, and he grinned a little more, taking the rope from your hands and wrapping it around his own as the dog pulled on the harness, eager for movement once again. That only seemed to further his amusement, and you grabbed your bag, reaching into the side pocket for your keys, only to remember that you’d been dropped off this morning, and so you lifted the bag onto your shoulder instead. “We’re taking your car.”

“But my seats are leather.” His words were whiny, and you chuckled, holding open the door for them both. Your little group moved through the firehouse, greeting the staff of the other teams that had taken over, trying to be polite, a subtle nod or quiet ‘hello’ as you passed through, before he was leading you over to his car, and holding open the passenger seat door for you. Dropping your bag down on the back seat, you settled in, a soft noise leaving you as the puppy clambered up into your lap. “You better hold onto that dog, because if my seats get all shredded up, I’ll be gutted.”

“Yeah, yeah; fancy leather seats.” You mocked, a grin on your face, and he scowled falsely, slamming the door shut a little as you chuckled as he flipped you off while rounding the car, biting on the inside of his cheek to contain his amusement. Settling in himself, you strapped yourself in, making sure that you adjusted the safety-belt over the dog in your lap too, who had managed to sit down, tail wagging as it panted happily, and you avoided all the sore spots still littering its skin. “You want me to google a vet? I don’t really know anywhere around here like that, but I can search for one?”

“There’s one not far from where I live, so we can head there.”

He started up the engine, hand on the gearstick as he reversed out of the spot and edges slowly towards the road as the car warmed up, and you considered the matter. “We should find one near my place, so you don’t have to drive all the way across town to drop me off afterwards.”

“I don’t mind.” His eyes flicked up to the mirrors, checking everything he was seeing as he left the parking lot and joined the traffic on the road, and you sighed, twisting to face him a little more.

“Yeah, but, it would waste time in your evening, and your fuel, and-”

“I don’t mind.” He turned to look at you, eyes meeting yours for a split second, whiskey-coloured eyes showing only honesty, replacing the cheeky look he’d held moments prior. You sighed, watching him for a moment longer, and he turned back to the road, your eyes sweeping along the defined line of his jaw, the upturned tip of his nose form the side, and the way his eyes flickered over the road before him as he navigated traffic. “Besides, if we go to the veterinarian near me, I can take him for check-ups.”

“They’ll probably have to stay overnight, they’ll want to do tests and heal them up.” You cupped the furry little face in your hands, the thumping of his tail as he wagged picking up again immediately. “Won’t they, huh, cutie? We gotta’ get you all fixed up!”

Thomas chuckled, glancing at the two of you as you kissed its little head, and you were weaving through roads you didn’t recognise, a side of the city you’d never ventured to before, but you weren’t all that surprised by it, because you’d barely adventured anywhere. Now you’d decided to stick around for a while, you should probably learn a little more about where you were living.

“I’ve never been here before.” You looked out of the window, the light in the sky beginning to fade into dusk. “This neighbourhood, I mean. Well, this side of the city, really.”

“You don’t get out much, huh?”

“I moved around a lot, didn’t really seem like it was worth learning an area when I didn’t know how long I was going to stay.” Silence formed between you for a while, the scenery flashing by, streetlights slowly beginning to turn on and warm up, and it wasn’t until the car was pulling to a halt in front of a small veterinary surgery that only had a few people milling around behind the glass windows, quiet and calm. Thomas turned to you upon unclipping his seatbelt, and the silence carried for another second or two, but now with more weight on, as you waited for him to speak.

“I’d be happy to show you around, sometime. If you choose to stick around with us. I can show you some of my favourite places, and I just know Newt would want to tag along and show off his hang-outs too.”

You smiled, watching as he shrugged, getting out of the car and walking around to open your door for you. Standing up, he took the lead, the bouncing puppy sniffing the ground curiously. “I’d like that, maybe I’ll take you up on that offer sometime.”

“I hope you do.” He locked the car, the two of you walking quietly, side by side, up the ramp and through the door, the ball overhead jingling a little as you entered.

There was a blonde behind the desk, curly hair and dark painted lips as she looked up, eyes flicking over the pair of you, before her eyes were moving down to the dog; a single, well-manicured brow lifting in questioning.

You looked between her and the dog as you approached, wondering what brought on the look that was on her face, before realising that you’d grown so accustomed to the state of the dog that the initial shock had worn off, and you gasped a little as you approached the desk, her hand closing over the phone, a scowl forming on her features.

“We didn’t do that to the dog!”

She paused, and Thomas turned to look at you, confusion portrayed on his face, before he was reading the room, his eyes going wide. Neither of you was wearing your official uniforms, you were just a pair of strangers with a dog on a rope, covered in burns and cuts. He panicked, patting down his pockets as she lifted up the phone to her ear, panicking to find his wallet as he flipped it open to show the ID inside.

She took the leather from him, peering it at carefully, a long and tense second that seemed to drag on, your breath held, before her stern expression seemed to relax a little, a softer look on her face as she handed it back, placing the phone down and crossing her arms against the desktop before you both.

“We found this little guy in a house fire about two hours ago, we just finished our shift.”

“Uh-huh.” She squinted, before she was turning to the computer, long and perfectly maintained nails typing on the keyboard as she created a file for the little creature. “Name?”

“Uh, well, we haven’t given it one.” Thomas stuttered, and she smirked a little, turning to look at you both a little clearer.

“I meant your name, for the file.”

He blushed, red twinging his cheeks as his jaw snapped shut, and you tried to contain your laugh. “His name is Thomas Stephens. With a ‘P-H’, not a ‘V’.” She nodded her head, and Thomas nudged you with his elbow gently, a quiet thanks as his cheeks remained heated. He cleared his throat, choking back the lump in his throat.

“Her name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” She paused for only a second, before she was typing that too, and you turned to look at him, one of his shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. “We should both be on file, to look after the little guy. He’s our responsibility now.”

“And you said that you found him in a house fire today?”

You snapped away from Thomas, looking back to the blonde receptionist, who was still typing at her computer as she filled in details, waiting for you to continue. “Oh, yes! Not too bad, a little singed around the edges but that’s all. First-degree skin wounds, nothing deep into muscle tissue, except for a few second-degrees. It was severely dehydrated and a little woozy from the heat, but we gave ‘em some water and got some food in ‘em, and the pup got its energy back.” She stopped her typing, turning to stare at you. “No disorientation or dizziness that I can tell, so I don’t think there’s lasting brain trauma, but the woofing is a little raspy, probably some internal burning from smoke inhalation.”

“I take it you’re the paramedic, then?” It was your turn to be slightly embarrassed now, Thomas staring at you wide-eyed for your spiel, and she was watching you intently, and you only nodded your head in confirmation. “I’m impressed. I’ll let the doc’ know it all. How about you hand me over the dog, I’ll take him into the back, and you two can wait out here. I’ll be back out in a few minutes, alright?”

You were almost reluctant to hand him over, but Thomas gave her the makeshift leash, and she walked him away, the two of you taking a seat on the cushioned chairs in the waiting room, posters up around on the walls to show information and promotions on pet-care.

Sinking down next to him, you let out a sigh, a little achy all over from the stress of the day, and you were looking forward to simply relaxing. Your head rolled to the side, to find Thomas picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of his hoodie, seeming to sense your lingering gaze, his head twisting to catch your eye. He returned the gaze, curiosity unspoken between you both as he waited for you to speak, and it took you a moment to form words.

“What are we gonna’ do with it, Thomas?”

“The dog?” He mumbled dumbly, and you only nodded your head. “I’m sure they know a selection of excellent shelters who would be able to find it a good home and look after it once we sign it over, and it’ll find a great home.” You sighed, not too sure why you were so disappointed by the answer, your sights turning forwards to look over the posters on the walls once again.

A quiet settled over you both, nothing tense or uncomfortable, but simply companionable, and your mind drifted to the excited little animal that was taking over your mind, closed behind a door for its initial examination.

“The team seemed to really like the dog.” You jumped a little at his sudden voice, twisting a little to face him again, hope fluttering through your nerves. “Maybe they’d like a house dog?”

“Really?” You couldn't help the smile that broke out on your features, and he chuckled a little, sights sweeping over your face, before his head was ducking a little, and he grinned, warm cheeks when he lifted his head again.

“Yeah, nobody has an allergy, the kids that visit would love it, and I know Vince would be on board, he’s always talked about a house dog.” He dared to lift a hand, pausing for a second, and you glanced down, his hand settling over yours on the arm of the chair to squeeze lightly. “Plus, you looked so down when you thought you didn’t get to keep him. I didn’t like that.”

You paused, processing his words, and nothing else needed to be said, his attention moving to the tiles in front of his feet as his legs stretched out, getting comfortable for the wait. As you sat here, you couldn't help but be thankful that he was here with you, because this was an experience you wouldn't want to be going through alone, and somehow, it felt right to be here with him of all people.  “Thank you, Thomas.”

“It’s not definite, yet, I’d still have to talk to everyone at the house and to Vince, and start a pool of funds, b-”

“No, not for the dog.” His jaw snapped shut, confusion on slightly pouted lips once again as he tried to process his thoughts. “Today, you believed me. There was nothing to suggest there was anyone there, and you put yourself in danger just to check for me.”

“You were right last time, with the woman in the house, trapped under the rubble? The kid who fell? You’ve been right about these things before.”

You shook your head. “This is different. You stayed behind because I insisted on it, you trusted me, you didn’t have to, but you did. Thank you for trusting me, Thomas.”

He only nodded, swallowing thickly, and you turned your hand underneath his, parting your fingers a little. His lips turned up at the edges, the tips of his fingers smoothing over your palm as they straightened out, before his fingers were weaving loosely through your own. “You can call me Tommy, y’know.”

“Huh?”

“You always call me Thomas.” His fingers tightened a little, and you crooked your own to wrap around his hand lightly. “Everyone calls me Tommy. You can too, if you want.”

“Okay.” He hummed, fingers twitching with your own, before he was lifting your hand enough to let his fingers weave with your own entirely, to sit connected on the chair between you both, and you held onto him equally as tightly. “Tommy?”

“Yeah?” There was a slightly higher pitch to his voice, a sweet look on his face at the sound of you using his nickname, and your chest flushed with heat at the idea you’d been able to bring him such a little joy so effortlessly.

“Thanks for being here with me.”

“My pleasure.” You only nodded, gaze remaining connected with his as his smile became fully formed, flashes of white teeth as it became a beam, and you couldn't help but return it. You jumped at the clearing of a throat, eyes closing as you suppressed the urge to curse in shock, having had enough of jump-scares and fear for today.

“Does one of you want to come in with me?” Both your and Thomas’ attention moved to her, and she was standing before you both, hands crossed behind her back as her eyes flicked between you. “We’re going to keep him in overnight, doc’ wants to put him under some anaesthesia so we can properly treat the wounds that are a little more severe and so some stitches, so one of you can go and keep him calm as he goes under. I need one of you to stay here and fill out some forms.”

You turned to look at Thomas, questioning silently, and he gave a smile, squeezing your hand tightly, before letting it go so your fingers could slip free. “You go ahead, I’ll fill out the forms, and I’ll wait right here.”

“You sure?”

“Totally. Go make sure our little puppy goes to sleep comfortably.” You nodded, standing up to follow the girl, and seeking a reassuring glance from Thomas over your shoulder, before you were disappearing around the corner and into an examination room, and he was cut from your views.

The dog was laying across the table, looking calmer now, but he perked up considerably upon seeing you. There was a set of weighing scales out, and a needle filled with a dose already, alongside a clipboard and a pen on a sheet that was half filled out.

The doctor was wearing a set of plastic gloves, slipping one from his wrist as he shook your hand, giving you his name, but you knew your mind was spinning far too much right now to remember it. You moved forward, scratching at the dog's ears to soothe it, it’s head tipping into your hands as it woofed happily, tail thumping against the table.

“What I’m going to do is use a general anaesthetic to put him under, so that I can get these stitches in and disinfect these wounds without him feeling it. I’ve weighed him, and surprisingly for the dogs I’ve seen come from these backgrounds, he’s actually on his target weight.” You nodded, trying to retain the information, and knowing that it was all good news. “I also want to take some blood samples, just to get an idea of what we have going on, since there’s no history, but he seems better than just ‘okay’ to me. We’ll keep him overnight for observations, as I’m sure my nurse has told you.”

“She did.”

“Have you decided what you want to do with him?” You scratched lightly at his hair, heart clenching a little at the whimper he let out as a needle slipped into his skin, but he was relaxing only a second later, the metal slipping free of his flesh, and his eyes growing heavy, ready to knock him out, for the time being, so he could heal properly.

“We’re kinda’ thinking we might have him as a house dog at the fire station.”

“I like that idea, a lot. It’s always motivational. This little guy has a lot of personality; it’ll be good for him to have so much attention, and so many people around him, constantly.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “He is definitely spirited, that's for sure. Only an hour after he’d left the building, he was already getting his energy back at the station. Some water and a snack, and he was bursting at the seams to run.”

“I can tell, he gave me a real struggle to settle him down.” He was growing tired, breathing growing soft and deeper as he calmed a little, his racing heart steadying out, and you hoped that some good sleep was exactly what he needed to heal. “I'll give you a list of his medicines and puppy suitable foods to help him develop, and when you come back for him, I’ll have a schedule made for the house. It can be hard to keep a dog within healthy weight and fitness boundaries with different teams who don’t get to communicate, so I’ll make a rota.”

“That’s great, thank you.”

“You are truly welcome. I’m going to have to shave him in some patches, but it should grow back in a month or so.” You nodded, a few more minutes passing, and you realised that there was nothing else to be added, the dog having drifted off, and the vet was simply giving you a few more minutes to accept it all. “When you’re ready, you can sign off at the desk, and we’ll give you a call in a day or two when he’s ready for collection.”

You nodded, taking a few more seconds yourself brushing your fingers over soft fur, before backing away, tearing your eyes from the dog you’d grown such a sudden attachment to, before you were opening the door, and closing it again.

As you made your way along the corridor, Thomas was standing at the desk, frowning at various paperwork that he was filling out, signing his signature at various spots and filling out any details that were needed. Taking up space by his side, his attention moved to you for just a moment, a soft smile directed your way, before he was moving back to the paperwork, and you leant on the edge of the desk, watching the pen move as he filled it out.

“Have you got a name?”

“I thought we already gave you our names?” Thomas echoed, an adorable confusion to his voice, and the nurse smirked a little.

“I’m talking about the dog.” She clarified, and he blushed a deep red once again, scowling as he went back to the paperwork, a mumble of ‘of course you are’ under his breath, and you bit back your laughter. “I’ll give you a moment to think about it, I’ll go and photocopy your forms.”

She took the paperwork from him as he finished it, and he turned to face you, embarrassment dying down. “How about ‘Champ’?” Your face screwed up at the idea, knowing it was a common name and not something that suited his personality at all, and Thomas seemed to agree, his own face mirroring yours as he thought on it longer. “How about ‘Dexter’?”

“That seems so aggressive. He’s a sweetie, he’s just excited.” He nodded, silence falling between you both again. “What do you think about ‘Scooter’?”

“It’s certainly interesting.” He hummed, and your head tipped to the side, trying to explain why the name had come to you;

“I don’t know, it just felt right. It feels like an energetic but fun name, and that's what he feels like.” Thomas clicked the pen shut, the woman walking back into the room, a brown envelope with the word ‘dog forms’ written across the front sliding to sit on the glass before you both.

“Have we chosen a name, yet?”

She sat down in her seat, bringing the computer back to life and typing in her password to complete the registration. “I think we just settled on ‘Scooter’.”

“We did?” You echoed a little, staring up at Thomas, who only nodded to the blonde nurse, who smiled to herself as she completed the forms. Lifting the card reader up onto the top of the desk, the small registration fee and covering of the original medicines and treatments were completed, and you promised to forward half of the costs to Thomas as soon as you could while he punched his PIN into the device.

She finished it all up, stapling the bundle of receipts to the copy of the forms, and just like that, you were stepping back out into the cold air, minus a dog, but plus a pet.

Sinking down into the passenger seat beside Thomas, he started up the car, and as he pulled out of the parking lot, you couldn't help but notice the darkness that had taken over. What had been a pastel sky when you’d entered the establishment was now deep tones of blue fading into black, the moon string in the sky to be accompanied by an array of twinkling stars.

You offered him your address, the city melting away beside you as the radio played, idle chatter filling the silence between you both on the drive. He would often pause the conversation to point out somewhere he liked; a restaurant, an activity, a shop or simply a building with a memory for him, all following with a list of reasons why he thought you should visit it someday, some even coming with a promise to show it to you himself.

When you finally pulled up in front of your building, Thomas peered up at it, stepping out of the car as you did, and rounding to the backseat to grab your back for you as the car sat on the curb, engine still running to keep warm. “This is me, that third window up on the left.” You pointed up to it, the glass dark in an apartment with all of the lights off, the living room window that looked out onto the street would soon be flooded with lights, only minutes away from finally getting to relax and unwind from a busy day. “Thanks for driving me home, and coming out with me. It was nice to have company.”

“I had fun, I wanted to come. It was really no trouble.” He rocked on the balls of his feet, hands shoved into his pockets, and you weren’t sure what else to say to fill the silence as he simply nodded to your words, hands pushed into his pockets. “I’ll see you soon, on our next shift?”

You could only hum your agreement, mind shifting to remember when it was that you were due on shift again, your mind coming up blank with your exhaustion. You waited longer, his eyes fixed on you, intently, but you couldn't seem to decipher what was laying within them, and after a while you gave up trying to. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

“Goodnight.” He smiles, shoulders slumping a little, and you headed back up towards the door of the main building, pulling your bag around from your side to open the pocket on the front, and fish out the keys, pausing at the top stop as you found them, and tried to find the one for the main building.

Shoes shuffled against the concrete behind you, up the steps, and you turned to face Thomas, unsure of what to say to question him, but something to you he had his own agenda, and not to rush him. He waited for a second longer, the correct key inched between two fingers now as the rest jingled where they hung, and your eyes remained locked with his as you waited.

A hand came up to rest over your cheek, a soft smile on his face as he took a shaky inhale, before your head was being tipped to the side a little. Hot breath washed over your skin, his body stepping in close enough that his own heat was enough to warm you. The tip of his nose dragged over your cheek, enough to make your breath hitch, before soft lips were pressing to your skin. A sweet kiss that a shy blush flood your features, his lips lingering a second longer than you expected, before was pulling back, an equal blush visible on his face, but a bashful expression none the less as he pulled away.

You felt cold as he stepped back, the hand from your waist falling away and you weren’t sure when it had even landed there, as the hand on your other cheek dropped away too, and he licked over his lower lip, nibbling on it to contain the sunny expression threatening to take over as he backed down the steps.

“Now it's a good night. I’ll be seeing you.” He gave a little wave, before he was jogging back to his car, and you watched him go, a little shocked and a little confused, heart racing in your chest as you opened the door to the main building and stepped inside, hearing his engine rev as he pulled away.

It was all too much to handle at the moment, a hot bath and some emotional unwinding from the chaotic day that it had been much needed before you could even think about beginning to unpick whatever it was that was going on now. Kicking off your shoes the second the door was open, the only decision you wanted to make right now was whether you wanted food or your pyjamas first.

[clandonnachaidh]

Light Across The Seas That Sever (Ch4)

AO3

When he woke the next morning in Amsterdam, his feeling of utter contentment quickly gave way to dread as his hand eagerly searched the space in the bed beside him only to find it empty. Immediately, his eyes snapped opened and he looked around the room for her, for his Claire.

His heart sank at the sight.

The twin bed that she had slept in for the night prior to the one they shared was made, her suitcase gone from its spot by the door. He stumbled as he got out of bed, his limbs not quite awake yet as he burst through the bathroom door and he noticed that her things were gone. It was as if she’d never been there.

If not for the taste of her still on his lips, he’d have wondered if he’d dreamt the whole thing.

He spun around the room in a flurry, unsure of what he was looking for or what he planned on doing once he found it.

Then his eyes fell on the slip of paper that sat on the windowsill, the sun casting its rays down on her pen strokes.

I can’t bring myself to wake you. I have to catch my flight. I’ll let you know when I land in Boston.

Jamie’s heart clenched in his chest and he used the palm of his hand to rub at his sternum without thought. He knew that she was gone. He cursed himself for being such a deep sleeper, wished that he’d had the awareness to know that she had been moving around the room silently, packing her things to leave. But in the afterglow of their love making, having released tension and anticipation that had been building inside of him for years, sleep had taken him down and down until he was oblivious to the world. The last thing he remembered was the ghost of her fingertips on his cheekbone and his jaw as he whispered to her once in his mother tongue, the language of his heart that he knew she didn’t understand but hoped that she could feel the meaning of, before falling into a deep sleep.

“Mo ghaol ort, mo Sorcha.”

He had to find her, had to make her understand that he loved her and had loved her since the moment he saw her. Scrambling into the same clothes from the day before, he tore out of the hotel, not caring that they’d charge him for another night when he would inevitably miss check-out. He rushed to the train station and bought a direct ticket to Schiphol, his shaking fingers calling her repeatedly and his heart falling every time it went to her voicemail.

He left his third message, laying his heart out for her to hear, “Claire, please just answer the phone. Talk to me. I winna ask ye to do anything ye dinna want to do but I have to say it, Claire. And I refuse to say it on your bloody voicemail so answer yer phone, tell me where ye are. I’m on my way to the airport. I’m coming to find you.”

Once he arrived, he pushed his way past the crowds of holiday goers, businessmen in their suits and parents trying to corral their children into order. Suddenly thankful for the view that his height gifted him, he searched frantically for any sign of her. He’d found her flight on the departures board and raced to the terminal, praying to God that something had delayed her and she hadn’t had time to make it through security yet. The panic bubbled in his chest as he began to breathe heavily, black dots appearing in his vision. It took everything in him not to simply start shouting her name in the hope that it would bring her to him.

A furious hysteria was beginning to claw its way into his nervous system, controlling the frantic jerks of his long limbs that felt too heavy for him to carry. He dialled her number again and was astonished when she answered.

“Jamie,” she whispered and he felt his heart shatter at the pain in her voice. “Oh, my Jamie.”

“Claire, where are ye? What were ye thinking running off without saying goodbye?” His voice sounded desperate and angry as he spun on the spot, knowing that the compass in his heart that always navigated him to her side would point him in the right direction. Still, his eyes weren’t able to land on her. “Damn it, Claire, tell me where ye are!”

He heard her let out a sob.

“I’m at my gate. You won’t be able to get through.”

Unable to remain upright at her confession, he slumped against the wall beside him and let his head hang, releasing tears that he had been keeping at bay from the moment he had realised that she had left. He cried with her, not caring if people saw.

“Why did ye do this?”

“I couldn’t stand to say goodbye.”

“Claire, I lo-“

“Don’t,” she cried softly, only speaking when he went to say it again. “I’m begging you, don’t say it. If you care for me at all, don’t make this harder.”

He restrained himself from driving his fist into the cement and pushed his forehead against it as his fingers gripped his phone tighter in his hand.

“I canna believe ye weren’t going to say goodbye,” he whispered with a voice full of hurt and not devoid of anger. “Do ye regret it? Last night?”

Her answer came out in a burst, “No. No, I don’t regret it. But you’re my friend. My best friend and with everything changing… I’m going to need my best friend.”

“Yer being selfish, Claire. To give me hope last night and then to pull it out from underneath me, to leave me wi’out breath,” the words were spilling out of him, not caring if he hurt her. She had hurt him well enough.

“Jamie, I thought-“

“No, ye didna think at all. Only of yerself getting to have a wee bit of fun before running off and settling down a whole fuckin’ ocean away.”

With a man who’s not me, he thought.

The line went quiet apart from the gentle sound of her crying and the odd ragged breath that he drew into his lungs to try and settle his racing mind. He screwed his eyes shut and banged his head lightly against the wall.

“Claire, forgive me, I- fuck, I just dinna ken what tae do.”

“They’re calling my gate, I have to go,” she whispered.

“Please, I didna mean it, I was sore and said more than I meant,” he desperately tried to explain himself.

“I’ll let you know when I land. Goodbye Jamie.”

“Claire—”

When she hung up the phone, he sat on the floor and went to pieces. An hour passed before he was able to bring himself together enough to make his way back to the hotel, gather his things and get his own flight back home. With one look at him, standing on the steps of Lallybroch with the spirit of a broken man, Jenny set her mouth in a straight line. In a feat that would’ve astounded Jamie had he the energy to care, she kept her words to herself and brought him a bottle of whisky as he sat in front of the fireplace, somehow managing to keep her children from pestering their uncle. He spent days moping around the estate, barely speaking a word but she made sure that he knew that when he did want to talk, Jenny Murray would be there to listen.

It was two weeks after Claire had left that Jamie heard from her. It was early evening and he had just punished himself with a 10km run around Lallybroch’s grounds, thinking that if his muscles were screaming in pain then he might get some distraction from the dull ache that had set up shop in his chest. The minute he stepped into the hot stream of the shower, his phone pinged with a message. How he would kick himself afterwards that he hadn’t given it a cursory glance because when he exited the bathroom ten minutes later, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him when he saw it.

Sassenach: Message

He opened it greedily, desperate to receive any sort of contact since the painful last phone call that would play on a loop in his mind every night as he lay in bed, sleep evading him.

It was a picture of a bouquet of flowers, a huge arrangement made of foliage and sea holly, thistles and white calla lilies that he knew were her favourite. He’d spent more time than he’d like to admit picking out the perfect flowers for her and knew exactly which bottle of whisky to put in with it (the one that they’d drank together the night that he’d teased her that she had no friends before she replied with a blinding smile and said the words ‘I have you’). She had photographed them prettily displayed on a windowsill that was drenched in sunlight. Underneath she had simply written the words ’Thank you!’ and he realised that he had forgotten that he’d even arranged for the gift to be sent. It was meant be a moving in present, a little reminder of home and the people that she’d left. Now it seemed sad and it made Jamie and his bruised ego feel a bit pathetic.

But it was a start, a small plaster on the gaping hole that was their friendship but one that he was determined to improve on. Anything to keep her in his life, in whatever capacity. He replied to her message with hopes of her having had an easy move, asking whether she was settled in yet. Claire replied almost instantly and so begun the back and forth, both of them trying to be painfully normal as Jamie paced in his bedroom, naked as the day he was born and dripping water all over the floorboards.

When he slipped on a puddle of his own making, he chucked his phone back onto the bed and set to rummaging amongst the old clothing in his drawers in an attempt to find something clean. He really needed to help out around the house more, he thought. Jenny had been rushing around after a husband, two children and now her brother and she deserved better. He had started to deal with the pile of unwashed material that had accumulated on the floor by his bed when he heard his phone ring.

Without even looking, he accepted the call.

“Aye?”

“Hi! It’s Claire!”

As if she needed to tell him that. The minute that he heard her voice he felt like he could breathe that little bit easier for the first time since being in that fucking airport, the gentle lilt of her English accent making him picture the shapes that her lips made. The memory of it stabbed him in the gut and he took a calming breath, turning from his discomfort into the humour that they both teased each other with.

“Sorry whoever ye are, I dinna ken anyone with a Boston accent, ye must hae the wrong number.”

“Asshole,” she snorted. “I sound exactly the same as I always have. It’s… it’s good to hear your voice.”

He smiled into the phone, letting his voice soften and convey the sincerity of his words, “Aye, Sassenach, it’s good to hear yours too.”

An hour or so later, when Jenny Murray went up to her brother’s room to let him know that dinner was on the table, the sound of her brother laughing halted her hand just before she knocked. For the past fortnight, Jamie had been dour, sullen and more prone to tantrums than Wee Jamie and Maggie put together. Getting the two of them fed tonight had been a battle, Ian trying his best to wrangle a teething Maggie as Jenny had an entire bowl of mince and tatties spilled down her front by her son. It had been a tiring night but now, the two wee ones were in bed and her brother was laughing again. Her heart lifted at the thought and she sent a prayer of thanks up to her parents for giving him a bit of a reprieve from his heartbreak.

“Sassenach, ye ken fine well…”

As soon as she heard him say it, she spun herself from Jamie’s door, cursing under her breath about her eejit brother who didn’t know what was good for him and definitely not what was bad for him. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Claire, in fact she had been glad knowing that there was someone to look out for Jamie when he’s was away at university. Jenny always knew that her younger brother was more green behind the ears than he was willing to admit. When he had nonchalantly mentioned that he’d be bringing home a friend for the summer of his first year at university, Jenny had pulled Claire into a hug on the steps of Lallybroch, welcoming her with literal open arms and finding Claire to be a quick witted, intelligent woman but with a softness behind her eyes that Jenny hoped would lend her to being a good friend to her brother. The problem, Jenny quickly realised the first night they’d all sat down to dinner together, was that Jamie had fallen head over heels in love with her.

She tried her hardest to lighten her step as she made her way back into the kitchen, knowing that she would not react kindly to any teasing about her ‘stomping’ around the house. Instead Jenny took out her frustration on the chicken curry that was bubbling on the stove, whirling the wooden spoon around with a little more force than was needed.

“Did I miss saying goodnight tae the bairns?” Jamie’s voice rumbled against the stone walls of the kitchen, pulling her attention away from the storm cloud that was brewing in her stomach as she plated up for herself, his large frame appearing over her shoulder. “Smells fine.”

As the full plate slammed down on the countertop, Jamie frowned in confusion as Jenny turned, her hands set at her hips in a way that still put the fear of God in him.

He took a step backwards (out of her reach if she decided to brandish the spoon at him), his eyebrows raised along with a single hand. Jamie knew from experience that it was better to pip her to the post before she got into the swing of an argument, “Before ye say anything, I want tae apologise first.”

“And just what will ye be apologisin’ for this time, mo bhràthair?”

“For treatin’ this place as a hotel, havin’ ye run after me like I’m one of yer bairns,” he had the foresight to look genuinely penitent and it softened her a bit. “I promise ye I’ll start pullin’ my weight.”

“Well, I canna say that I disagree wi’ ye. And I’ll be thankful of the help, Ian was just sayin’ the west gate needs mending. About time ye bucked up and started helpin’ wi’ the jobs around here,” she said firmly. Jamie’s eyes narrowed in at her face, confused. He’d apologised before she even asked but there was clearly something still there that he hadn’t addressed, that she was expecting him to bring up.

“Is there somethin’ else?” He asked carefully, fighting the urge to pull up the door to the priest hole that he was standing on in an attempt to hide from her wrath.

Instead, she sighed and handed a second plate to him. Her hands went from her hips to the table in front of her as she manoeuvred herself to sit. He followed her lead and sat down across from her, watching closely as she began to eat after expelling another pregnant sigh.

“Will ye give me a hint as to what I’ve done tae piss ye off?” He grumbled as he began to eat himself, trying his hardest not to cower as she sent him a death glare from across the table. Suddenly, the space between her brows furrowed and she let the weight of her head slump into an upturned palm.

“I’m worried about ye, Jamie. I’m always worried about ye but still,” she said in a quiet voice.

“I ken I’ve no’ been out of my room much and I’ve been a right miserable sod. But I’m starting to feel better… I think.”

Jenny narrowed her eyes at him, trying hard not to let the judgement seep in as she quickly placed her hand over the top of his, rolling her eyes when he jumped at the sudden contact.

“I think ye should stay away for a while. She’s in Boston wi’ Frank and havin’ tae adjust to her new life, ye should give her the space to do it.”

Realising that she’d overheard their phone call, Jamie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, fighting the urge to pull his hand from underneath hers as she tightened her grip.

“She was just phonin’ to say thanks for the flowers,” he mumbled, spooning a large helping of his dinner with his free hand into his mouth to try and shut down any need for a further explanation. Sadly, his big sister wasn’t buying it.

“I ken that yer finding it difficult, mo bhràthair, but maybe this is the opportunity tae find someone. Someone who’ll have ye. Ye’ve pined for Claire for so long but she’s never—“

“We slept together. In Amsterdam.”

The words hung in the space between the two siblings, heavy as lead. Jamie had felt the twist of his stomach at saying the words out loud and shot a glance to his sister’s dumbfounded face as the information permeated her thoughts.

“Ye glaikit bastard,” she finally exhaled softly, earning herself a sad smirk from her brother. “Why would ye dae that tae yerself?”

Jamie shrugged his shoulders, “It seemed… it felt like the right thing to do in the moment. And then I woke up the next morning and she was already gone. Chased her to the airport an’ aw but I was too late.”

Jenny huffed again, leaning back in her chair.

“I just thought if I could tell her that I loved her, that I’m in love wi’ her, maybe she’d have stayed. But she didn’t let me say it.”

“Aye, sounds like Claire,” Jenny scoffed, quickly composing herself at the glare she received. “Suppose it makes mare sense for all the mopin’ ye’ve been doing.”

Jamie humphed and rubbed a hand roughly over his face, sinking his fingers through his hair.

“It’s fine, it’s done and I canna change it, wouldn’t change it anyway. It was a very special night for me.”

“I ken but, Jamie, she is gone. She has made her choice. And it’s coorse of her to dangle herself in front of ye when she’s away living her life and yer here, where she left ye.”

His bright blue eyes bore into her, a warning, “Careful, Janet. Claire is my friend and I wilna let her navigate this on her own—“

“She’s nae on her own, she’s wi’ Frank!”

“Aye, she is. And there’s fuck all I can dae about it so this is where I find myself. I wilna let my feelings get the better of me. I will be her friend, as I have been these past years.”

Jenny knew that there was no point in pushing. It was a Fraser family trait, digging your heels in, more often than not to your own detriment. And if there was one topic that Jamie wouldn’t budge on, it was Claire. She got to her feet and grabbed her plate, moving around the table to press a single kiss into the mop of his red hair before leaving the room.

“Ca canny, mo bhràthair.”

[calpalirwin]

Are We?

A/N: Based on Are We by Taylor Acorn cuz I’m obsessed with her music (and you should be too)

Word Count: 1.9k

And away, and away we go!

__

You could feel the music from Michael’s DJ setup thumping in your bones as you stepped outside, the cool night air immediately bringing goosebumps to your arms. You slid into the jacket you brought with you, catching a lingering scent of cologne as you did, and sighed. That’s what you got for leaving your jacket right next to his. That’s what you got for having his hoodie on your dresser in the first place.

“Yeah, it’s a lil on the cold side, isn’t it?” a familiar voice drifted into your ear and you turned to the sound.

“A little, yeah. Too bad you left your hoodie at my place.”

“Eh,” Ashton shrugged. “I don’t mind if it stays there honestly. I have plenty of others. And I’m over at your place a lot, so at least I know I’ll always have a back up if I need it, ya know.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” you tried to laugh off as you raised your gaze to properly meet his, feeling your stomach tie itself in knots. 

“You good?” he prompted after a beat of watching you work your mouth, trying to form words and failing.

What are we? is what you wanted to ask, but what came out was a forced smile and a choked “Yeah, I’m good. Gonna grab a drink. Catch up later?”

“Sure thing,” he mumbled as you quickly walked off, before muttering a string of curses under his breath. “Just fuckin’ talk to her, for fuck’s sake…”

~~~

“Hey, I’m Ashton,” the brunette smiled widely at you, offering his hand.

“Y/N,” you smiled back, shaking his hand.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

Ashton giggled, pushing a hand through his hair. “Alright then. Well… if you change your mind…”

“I probably won’t, but I’ll find you if I do.”

“Cool.”

You sighed, maybe a little dreamily, as he walked off. Sure, he was cute. But the first time meeting butterflies in your stomach would settle eventually. And with how you and Ashton appeared to run in the same circle of friends, you needed the phase to pass without playing into it. A relationship was the last thing you needed right now anyway. 

~~~

“Some fuckin’ phase…” you muttered to yourself as you grabbed a water bottle from a cooler. When you turned, you could see Ashton chatting with other friends of yours, his shirt being pulled tight against his back and shoulders as he moved his hands animatedly.

Your mind raced with who’s fault it was for the storm you couldn’t make sense of. On one hand, rationally, you knew it was your fault for being the one to set the friend boundary in the first place. But Ashton was the one who had crossed it. And now you were the one who felt like the clingy one-night stand, trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together with both sides blank. Although, in hindsight, maybe if it had only been a one-night stand, you could be playing it cool like he was.

~~~

“Oh, my God, get a room!” Calum groaned before chucking a pillow at Luke, and another one at Michael. “We have a rule against fucking in a public space for a reason.”

“We’re not fucking,” Michael defended, his words mumbled as his lips stayed locked on Crystal’s.

“Well, fuck you, I’m going to bed then. And wearing ear plugs I guess…” Calum rose to his feet with a huff.

“Night, mate,” Luke told him as he and Sierra came up for air, their foreheads knocking gently against each other’s.

Now alone to deal with the two couples making out like sex-crazed teenagers, you and Ashton shared a look where he made a kissy face that had you busting up laughing. 

“Alright, fine!” Michael threw up his hands in defeat. “We’ll go to bed.”

“Have fun!” Ashton grinned.

“Use protection!” you joined in on the teasing as both couples headed to their own rooms. “Ugh…” you sighed, stretching your arms over your head. “Is it wrong to be jealous?”

“Jealous of what? That?” Ashton asked, motioning towards Luke and Michael’s rooms.

“Yeah. Not necessarily the relationship bit. Still not sure I want that. But God, to just get fucked senseless by someone who’s not a rando every now and again would be nice.”

“Well…” he started, and you noticed the subtle switch to his suggestive tone. “You know where my room is.”

“Are you seriously trying to hit on me right now?”

He shrugged, raising his hands defensively. “Look. You’re the one who said you wanted to get fucked senseless by someone who’s not a rando. I just happen to be someone who’s not a rando to you, and I have a great track record of being one hell of a lay. So… you could just go to your room, and do whatever it is you do. Or you could come to mine, and I’ll treat you to a good time, no awkwardness afterward guaranteed.”

“No one can know.”

“Pity… I like ‘em loud.”

“Ashton.”

“Alright, alright. This stays between you and me, got it. Not a problem.”

~~~

Both of you thought that it would just be that night. That if it happened too much, things would either get awkward, or you’d run the risk of your friends catching on. But sex with Ashton was like a drug. And now things were definitely awkward. Or at least, you were awkward. And you didn’t know how to take it all back. To be the people you were when you first met. And more than that, you didn’t want that. All this time, you thought it was space that you needed. But Ashton wasn’t someone you could erase. Because even if you acted like regular friends in public, those moments underneath the sheets were heaven. But you could do without each middle-of-the-night goodbye tearing you more and more apart. You could do without thinking about him in every spare moment, and second guessing everything you ever thought you knew about him. And you could really do without crying every time you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter whether it's all in your head, or if it’s real. But alas, it seemed like you were destined to be just another woman who fell for Ashton Irwin, wishing to wake up with him still next to you just once. 

~~~

You stayed at Michael’s party for a while longer, making your rounds, while avoiding Ashton as much as you could, until you started your rounds of goodbyes.

“Headed out?” Ashton questioned, one arm wrapping around you for a side hug that made your insides twist more.

“Long day,” you half-lied.

He pulled a frown, wondering how much he should believe you or not. “Well, alright then. Text me when you get home so I know you got there safe?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And uh…” he paused as his eyes darted around, checking to see if anyone was in earshot. “Call if you need to.” His breath was hot as it brushed against your ear, before his lips planted a quick kiss to the side of your head.

“Yep, see ya!” you said, maybe louder than you needed to before making your final exit.

Don’t call him, you thought on a loop the whole drive back to your apartment. 

Don’t call him, you thought as you texted the group chat that you got home, rather than just him. 

Don’t call him, you thought as you stared at your phone screen, finger hovering over his contact info. 

Sighing, you set your phone face down on your nightstand. It’s not like calling him would do any good if you didn’t know what to say anyhow. 

“Seriously, don’t do it,” you whispered to yourself as you changed into his hoodie for bed. If you couldn’t have him the way you wanted, this would have to be enough. Everything with all its complications would have to be enough.

You were double checking locks and turning off lights when your phone started ringing. You didn’t have time to process the name calling as you hit accept. “Hello?”

“Hey…” Ashton’s voice responded, sounding almost broken. 

“You alright?”

“Are you?” he countered. 

“Ash… look, it’s late, and I’m pretty tired.”

“I’m not calling you for sex, Y/N.”

“Then what else are you calling me for this late?”

“Would you just let me in please? It’s freezing out here.”

“Are you…?” You made your way through your apartment to the door, twisting the lock and pulling it open. “What are you…?”

“So you sleep in my clothes now?” Ashton asked, in lieu of answering your own half-asked questions. 

“It’s comfortable…” you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest, as he walked past you, and sat down on your couch.

“I’m not mad,” he said, as you shut the door and made your way to sit next to him. “I mean, it’s fine. I don’t care that you wear it. It uh… looks good on you that way.” As if to illustrate his point, his fingers ran over your bare thighs.

You shifted away from his touch, tucking your legs underneath you. “What do you want, Ash?” you asked, cutting straight to the point. 

“I honestly don’t know. Cuz it changes. Sometimes I want my friend back because I feel like I’m losing her, especially these past few days. And other days… I dunno.”

“You think you’re losing me?”

“I mean…” he shrugged. “I hope I’m wrong. But yeah. It feels like that sometimes.”

“Ash…” You reached out to cradle his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing across his cheekbones. “You’re not losing me.”

“But it feels that way.” His hands pulled yours away from his face, but continued to hold them tightly as your hands dropped in his lap. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing! You did nothing wrong.”

“Then why are you acting like something’s changed?”

“Because something has changed, Ash.”

“Well, tell me! Tell me what it is, and I’ll fix it.”

“It’s me, Ash. I’m the something that’s changed.”

“I- I don’t think I understand.”

“I love you, Ashton.”

“I love you, too.”

“No. I’m in love with you.”

“Okay, and what’s so wrong with that?”

“Because you’re not in love with me back! Because I did this to myself! I tried to keep my distance because the last time I fell for someone I got hurt! But I let you get close anyway, because you’re you! And now I’m falling, and dammit I don’t wanna get hurt again!”

“Shh,” he soothed, pulling you into him as hot tears spilled down your face and onto his shirt. “Shh, it’s alright, Y/N. Everything’s alright.”

“No it’s not!” you sobbed into his chest. “I don’t know what we are, Ash! Are we just friends who have sex sometimes? Is that all we get to be to each other?”

“Look at me,” he coaxed gently, his hands rubbing up and down your back. “God damn it, look at me,” he repeated more sternly when you didn’t, his hands guiding your face to look at him. “Remember how I said I thought I was losing you?” he asked, his thumbs brushing away the tears as they continued to roll.

You sniffed loudly as you nodded.

“It’s because I’m in love with you, too. I thought I was pushing too far, and that’s why you were pulling away.”

You shook your head. “N-no. I was pu-pulling away, cuz I’m sc-scared to be in love with y-you.”

“Oh, honey, you don’t have to be scared of that.”

“I d-don’t?”

He chuckled lightly, placing soft kisses along your hairline. “Of course not,” he murmured. “Because we’re friends first, which means I’m not going anywhere.”

“But we’re more than that, too?”

“So much more than that.”

“Ash? Will you stay with me tonight? And be here in the morning?”

“Of course, baby.”

__

Tag List

@aquarius-hood1996​ @creator-appreciator​ @philthepegacorn​ @myfavfanficsever​ @cxddlyash​ @youngblood199456​ @stormrider505​ @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof​ @hoodhoran​ @metalandboybands​ @maybeememez​ @major5sosstan​ @kaitieskidmore1​ 

[plus-size-reader]

Out of His Mind

Henry Bowers x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1669 words

Warnings: language?

Summary: Henry has a crush. 

——————————————————————————————————

It should have come as no surprise to anyone that you were the way you were.

After all, living with Patrick your whole life meant that you figured it out or he would have probably smothered you with a pillow by now. It was no secret that Patrick was standoffish and violent, everyone in all of Derry knew that.

What they didn’t know was that he, in no way, rivalled your hatred of the entirety of the human race.

The two of you were clearly related through that alone, though that was about as far as the similarity went.

Where Patrick was a textbook psychopath, deriving joy from any form of suffering, you didn’t seem to find it in anything. You were just angry all the time.

As best he could tell, you always had a disgusted grimace on your beautiful face, keeping to yourself whenever possible, unless you had some venom to spit in Henry’s direction.

...And for whatever reason, you had him all twisted up inside.

It didn’t make any sense, seeing as Henry had never felt that way about anyone but whenever he was around you, he felt ill, in the best way.

It was like a spell had been cast on him, and it made him even more dumb than before. The worst part of all though, was that you somehow remained absolutely blind to it.

That, or you didn’t care.

For the longest time, he was sure that you hated him and maybe you still did. In any case, nothing could keep his stomach from doing cartwheels whenever you were together.

Together being a term used lightly.

Really, you only ever spent time with the ‘Bowers gang’ when you absolutely had to but that was more than enough for Henry to be sure.

There was just something about you.

...And he was determined to figure out what it was.

Today, Patrick offered to have the guys come over after school, suggesting they fuck around at the quarry for a while before hitting the town. Your parents weren’t going to be home, after all, so they agreed.

Which meant that as soon as Henry and the others entered your house, you knew about it. No one else had a key to the side door of the garage.

“What are you losers doing here?” you groaned, rolling your eyes from where you were sitting on the couch, watching bored as Belch chucked something at Vic, narrowly missing his head.

It brought a small smile to your face, which you were quick to force back down. Perhaps if it had actually met its target, you would have laughed.

Luckily, Belch’s aim was about as good as his grade in chemistry. “We thought we’d come spend time with you. s’that okay?” Henry started, noticing the way your eyes lingered on his for only a moment before you looked away.

You didn’t even bother to answer him, though you didn’t have much of a chance anyway before Patrick swung around the corner and lobed a coke can at your head.

“We’re going to the quarry, you wanna come or is that stick lodged too far up your ass?” he cackled, not even seeming to care one bit that the can could have burst all over the place.

Though, to be fair, you cared about as much when you tossed it right back at him, hitting the wall just behind him.

“You’re a fucker, Pat!” you growled, that mischievous glint in your eyes making it hard to tell if you were really upset with him or not.

It wasn’t until you stood from where you’d been sitting that it registered to Henry that you could potentially be coming with them. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but for some reason, it made his palms sweat.

You hadn’t come with them to the quarry for quite some time, and the five of you weren’t kids anymore.

“Let’s go. I’ll leave all your asses here” you barked, having apparently decided you’d be going before heading out the door, not bothering to wait for any of them.

Without missing a beat, all four boys followed, leaving Henry to bring up the back, his hands feverishly wiping at his jeans.

He tried to convince himself that this wasn’t going to be that big of a deal, and that there was no reason he should be nervous, but that wasn’t doing him much good.

Really, the more he tried to stop thinking about you, the more his mind snapped right back to you, sitting in the backseat.

Henry was trying his best to be casual in his admiration, watching in the right side mirror as you fiddled mindlessly with the fraying knees of Vic’s jean but if he wasn’t careful, he was going to get caught.

Honestly, Belch had already taken note of the way Henry studied you but chose to keep it to himself.

Pointing out something like that would not only subject him to Henry’s anger, but also yours and Patricks and that wasn’t something he was willing to deal with right now.

So, he turned up the music on the radio and kept driving down the road until he pulled up to the private confines of the woods around the quarry.

“Did you bring a bathing suit Squirt, or what?” Patrick asked, much too late to have actually been of help to anyone, going so far as to use that terrible nickname.

If looks could kill, he would have been dead already.

“No, I’m not stripping down in front of your pervy friends dipshit” you huffed, shooting Belch a wink from where he was looking at you from the rearview.

It was all in good fun of course, but mostly, it was just payback for Patrick being Patrick.

“Yeah right, like any of these guys would wanna touch you with a ten foot pole” your brother jabbed, your full on sibling bickering filling the backseat in a matter of minutes.

Really, it was just a number of thinly veiled threats and insulting one another's mother even though she was the same woman. Neither of you cared for technicalities.

Patrick was a bitch and you only wanted to make sure he knew that about himself.

~

That was all that happened from the time Belch parked the trans am to the time when Patrick and the others were all diving off that cliff into the water below.

You chose to remain perched on a rock, letting what little sun you could tolerate to bathe your skin. It wasn’t until you heard a twig snap behind you that you perked up, taking notice to the fact that someone was clearly out here. As best you knew, the guys were still in the lake.

Still, you wouldn’t have put it past your shithead brother to try and toss you over the side while you were too relaxed to notice.

Though, when you actually turned around, it wasn’t Patrick standing where the sound had come from. It was Henry.

“What are you doing? Sneaking around like a creeper” you asked, rolling your eyes before leaning back down against the rocks. You would never admit it, but you were most comfortable around Henry.

He was a no shit kind of guy, which you could respect, but he wasn’t downright vile like your hellspawn sibling was. He was a good middle ground and you could respect that.

Not that you wanted him watching you from the woods in any case.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Henry started, watching you crack one eye open slightly to look at him, silently prompting him to continue.

You had never had patience for idle small talk. If he had something to say, he could do so without wasting precious seconds of your life.

“Without the other guys” he clarified, briefly waiting for you to point out that it was a given before punching him so hard in the bicep with those rings you wore that he’d have to leave.

...But that never came.

You just sat there, bathing in the sun like a cold blooded predator, waiting for him to get on with it.

Henry had to swallow thickly before speaking, taking in how peaceful and gentle you looked when you were relaxed. He assumed it was a Hockstetter thing, because Pat damn near slept like a baby.

The whole lot of you were sneaky bastards though, so he didn’t trust it for a second.

“You wanna see a movie sometime? Or get a burger? Just us” he asked, earning a snort from you immediately though you stopped laughing as soon as you saw him.

The sight you opened your eyes to was almost alarming.

Henry, shit-talking, knife slinging Henry Bowers, looked like a scared little puppy. You had never seen him anxious or worried before but even you didn’t have it in your heart to tease him.

He was being serious.

“Like a date?” you clarified, genuinely confused for a second. Why would Henry want to go out with you? By all accounts, you were personality deficient, and that was a badge of honor you wore proudly.

...But no one in their right mind would sign up for that willingly.

Maybe that was the whole point though, maybe that was what it was about Henry that you found so strangely endearing. He was out of his damn mind.

When he nodded, you made up your mind.

He was absolutely deranged, fully crazy, but you were just about the same. “Sure, I’ll let you buy me a milkshake some time” you shrugged, closing your eyes again as your way of shooing him away.

You both knew that if he didn’t get back to his friends, they’d come looking for him and whatever he had going on, that wasn’t a good look.

Not that he cared right now.

Henry got the date, and you didn’t even spit on him when he asked. By all accounts, that was a success in his mind.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Black Magic" *Part 5*

Heyyy ladies and gents, I might go out later but I'm gonna post a FEW chapters tonight, see if I can get them edited fast enough. I want to try and do a "day" a chapter, if you know what I mean.

Also- Really?! No one said anything about the Raul reference?! Was it too cheesy? Also there was a Charmed reference in there if you missed it.

Part 6

Part 4

Tag List:

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@omgsuperstarg

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@gibbs274

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@objection-argumentative

@aprildecker-blog

@lolliepopsicle

@madamsnape921

@stars-trash-18

-----

You couldn't wait to get to work the next day. You rushed through the lobby and bounded into Rafael's office. He was standing there talking to Liv. Oh god. They both turned and stared at your dramatic entrance.

"Uh….Y/N, are you ok?" Rafael asked you with a bit of concern in his tone.

"Oh yeah no I'm fine Rafa," you nervously smiled, and to your horror his face became even more confused.

"I'm sorry, did you just call me Rafa?" He raised an eyebrow, glancing at Liv, who had a triumphant smile on her face. He didn't remember. It was over.

"I knew it…" she whispered with a smirk.

"Knew what?" Rafael turned to her

"....I knew she'd try to get friendly with you, she's had a crush on you forever," Olivia quickly came up with a diabolical plan on the spot. Your face fell, you felt yourself turning pale as he turned back to you.

“Is that true, Y/N?” He asked you point blank.

"I...I…" you stammered, unable to think of how to get out of this situation. Then you saw his thermos.

"I'll get your morning coffee, boss," you went and grabbed the thermos off his desk, then hurried out the door, slamming it behind you. You tried desperately not to cry as you headed down to the break room.

------

"Liv that was a little harsh," Rafael gave her a look, nothing the evil smile she had.

"What? She was being insubordinate! Calling you Rafa like that…"

"Right because only you can call me that," He smirked.

"Well I'm the only one who does," she pointed out. "And we're so close, she must have thought of she stated calling you that maybe you'd fall for her.”

"...you're nutty you know that?” He shook his head with a laugh.

“But you love me anyway,”. She gave him a tongued smiled.

"I do," he chuckled, gripping her hands .

----.

In the break room you tried to calm yourself down before going back up to Rafael’s office. You focused on what Chloe has said last night. He was already in love with you. You just had to draw it out

That was going to be exceptionally difficult now that Olivia knew you had done something. She's never gonna leave you alone with him. No she has to. I mean what is she gonna do, stay in his office all day? You'd just wait until she left. You filled his coffee and returned to his office this time knocking before you went in.

“Come in,” You heard him call through the door. You went in to see Liv had left. You looked up at the sky and mouthed a “THANK YOU.”.

"Here you are Mr. Barba." You handed him the coffee nervously.

"....Y'know I kind of liked it when you called me Rafa, Y/N." He gave you a smile. But not the normal office smile you were so used to...it was a smile you had only seen yesterday. Maybe….

"Oh. Um, yeah sure ok ...Rafa," you smiled back.

"I'm sorry I haven't said it before. I guess I shouldn't be so…"

"Snobbish," you chuckled remembering yesterday. Then suddenly remembered HE didn't remember yesterday. You looked at his once again stunned face, and you once again slapped your hands over your mouth.

"Oh god I am so--” You started to apologize, but to your relief he slowly started chucking that soon turned into a full laugh.

"Yeah, something like that." He shook his head while still laughing. He looked at you, catching your glance. He stopped laughing and just stared at you for a long moment.

I need you to remember today….

"...Do I have something on my face?" You started to rub your face embarrassed.

"No, I just…." He narrowed his eyes, inspecting your face as if he was trying to recall something. "I think I...I had a dream about you last night,"

You blushed, your heart fluttered. This was it, it was happening. It was really happening

"A good dream, I hope," you joked, trying to keep calm.

"The best," he smiled dreamily. Your face lit up, was it REALLY happening? Right now?

"Rafa, I--" You started to go for it.

"I'm sorry I don't know why I said it like that," he shook his head with a laugh. "I'm sure it was nice though,"

Nope. Not now.

"Right, I'm sure," you smiled, trying to hide the fact that you were dying inside.

"Are you okay?" He was actually paying enough attention to you to realize you were faking it

"What...yeah no I'm fine," you lied. "I just um, I didn't sleep well last night,"

"Oh. Well, feel free to make yourself something from my machine," he offered. He had never offered that before, his machine was too precious and too expensive to waste on anyone else.

"...Seriously? But that thing is your baby," You asked him astonished.

"...Something tells me I've been too focused on my 'things' lately," He chuckled.

"Oh well thank you sir,"

"Rafa carino, por favor," he said nonchalantly, then immediately stopped and looked at his desk in shock that those words fell out of his mouth so easily. You started at him equally shocked. Maybe this would be easier than you thought. You decided to run with it, maybe prodding more memories

"What's that mean?" You quickly asked. He stared at you for a second, still trying to figure out why he had called you that.

"It um--," he cleared his throat nervously. "Nothing," he lied. "It's just a word like amigo or kid"

Your face scrunched. Why would he lie? This is it. This is why you didn't know before. He's been trying to hide it!!!!!

"No it doesn't," You challenged him. What were you doing?! Was it totally smart to provoke him like this? What if he fired you?

"I'm sorry?” He asked, stunned.

“It means honey or sweetie, it's a term of endearment," You spit back the explanation he gave you yesterday.

“How do you know that…?” He was beyond suspicious.

How indeed. You raced your brain trying to think of a plausible reason.

“My best friend is Latina. She calls me that all the time,” You lied. Well, kind of lied. Chloe was Latina and spoke spanish, but she had never called you carino.

“….Then why did you ask me what it meant?” He kept suspicions.

“I wanted to see if you'd admit it,” You smirked at him. He was shocked. You had never been so informal with him, so bold, so snarky.

“….What has gotten into you, Miss y/l/n?” He suddenly asked you in a very “boss” like voice. Shit. He was pulling rank on you. You pushed too far.

"I…" Your smirk fell, your voice fell soft.

"That must have been some shit sleep you got. I suggest you go get caffeinated, compose yourself and come back more professional," He spat.

“...Y-yes sir.” You bolted out of the office.

As soon as you were gone, Rafael began to pace in his office. Why had he called you that? And so casually and easily? He was usually so careful about showing you any kind of favoritism or affection, it was highly unprofessional. And besides, you were too young for him. He couldn't be like a kid with a crush.

----

After you came back you both kept quiet and professional. Exchanging only pleasantries and things, Both lost in your own insecurities and feelings. Finally at the end of the day you went into his office quietly .

“Well if you didn't need anything else sir, I'm going to take off.,” You said meekly.

“Y/N wait,” he got up and walked up to you. "I'm sorry about this morning, I misspoke and I shouldn't have taken it out on you,”

“Oh.” You weren't thrilled that he stuck to his denial of feelings, but at least he was chill again

“Oh it's fine,” you talked nervously.” I should have never been so flippant,”

“No no, actually it was quite refreshing,” he smiled. “You're usually so quiet and timid, I like this side of you,” He stroked your hair, then instantly realized what he was doing and stepped back. What was happening?!

“Ahem so I’ll see you--” He started to say goodbye, but he noticed a penguin charm you had dangling off your phone in your hand.

“Penguins,” He whispered.

“I’m sorry?” Your heart fluttered again.

“I love penguins,” He just said softly, almost as if in a trance.

“I know,” You went for it again.

“What? How do you know that?” The moment fleeted again, his memory long gone.

“Oh um,” You bit your lip. “I mean, who doesn’t love penguins? They’re adorable,”

“Indeed,” He nodded with a smile. “Always so dapper in their--

“Tuxedos,” You finished his thought. He stared at you in shock for the fiftieth time that day, but once again it flushed into a beautiful smile.

“Right,” He nodded again, still smiling.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Rafa," You smiled, a genuine flirty smile. At this rate you'd be right back where you were yesterday in no time.

Rafael just stood staring at the door after you left. What were you doing to him?

----------

As he walked out of his office, Olivia met him at the door, holding a cup of coffee.

"An apology latte," she smiled apologetically.

"I should get mad at you more often," he chuckled, taking and sipping the latte. He made a face.

"What?" Olivia's face turned to panic.

"Nothing, just kind of a weird aftertaste," he shrugged.

"Oh maybe they decaff’d you," she laughed nervously.

“Maybe…” He stared at the cup suspiciously.

“How about dinner? On me?” She offered, hoping to distract him.

“Sure….” He shook off his suspicion and smiled at her.

They walked arm in arm, Rafael was oblivious to the evil smile crawling across Olivia's lips.

----

You went home floating on cloud nine. When you walked in the door Chloe was folding her laundry. When she saw you she smiled hugely at the door.

“So.. how did it go?” She grabbed your hand and pulled you to your couch.

“It was amazing. He didn't remember yesterday, but I think he has some idea of what happened. And I think it's drawing his feelings out!!” You clapped your hands together wildly.

“Girl that's awesome!” She giggled. “Well tomorrow you'll just have to look amazing. See if you can draw more out,” She grinned.

You went to bed feeling more hopeful than you had in a long time.

-------