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district4loading · 12 days ago

Text

Just Hold Me

Twice Sana x Male reader

6K Words

Content Warning: smut, fluff, really sappy, mentions of depression and abuse, kinda unrealistic elements

Minors DNI

A/N: I came up with the plot for this one with a friend of mine who I met on here not too long ago. Super cool guy who enjoys my fluffier fics so I didn't mind writing this one.

Please enjoy this really... really fluffy fic. More to come!!!

That's what Sana does, and it's why you know that she's the love of your life.

It's the sound of the rain hitting the glass, the endless thudding against your bedroom window that has your attention. You stare at it silently, waiting for her to join you in bed as you lay there cold and almost lifeless. There wasn't anything profound about the harsh rainfall outside, you just needed something—anything—to focus on besides your thoughts.

The rooms dark and everything just feels so heavy. It always gets like this when you're alone. You've gotten better at distracting yourself but on nights like these when there's not one single thing that feels right, it gets so hard.

So you find yourself thinking again, your eyes so empty and lost without any purpose. You were in one of your depressive episodes which came around every few months. You've been able to hide it from her for a while now. You kept a smile on your face, you were never not there for her and you found yourself only letting out your true emotions in the shower or any time you had by yourself.

(Usually in the car right after work)

Being all emotional with Sana is something you never want to do. She's too perfect, too precious, and way too pure to have to deal with the absolute train wreck that you are. Something tells you that you need to be the perfect man for her, be strong, be stoic, be a protector. It's in the back of your mind and it's so loud and persistent that you actually believe it.

You can't be there for her if you're crying in her arms about your problems

So when you see her beautiful face come through your bedroom door, you suck in every bit of sorrow and somehow manage to force a slight smile. She shuts the door behind her and climbs into bed right where she belongs, wrapped in your arms. You get the covers over you and then there comes the warmth that you've been longing for.

Even with her here, your mind is still going and your thoughts begin to swarm. You're too stuck in your head that you don't even notice the lack of words she spoke or the eerie and unusual silence that continues while she's in bed. You only hold her tighter and for the first time tonight you hear her soft voice and it immediately brings you back to reality.

"Y/n"

You only hum in response, staring into the dark room because the position you were in didn't allow you to face each other. You were both laying on your sides, your arms wrapped around her and your chest pressed flush against her back.

Sana brings her hand up and holds yours that rested on her belly "What's going on with you?"

The tone she uses nearly breaks you. It's how concerned she sounds, how genuinely worried she is about you. "What are you talking about?" You really try to make it seem like you have no idea what she means because you know that she shouldn't have to deal with this.

"You've been coming home from work late, you barely eat, and I feel like I haven't seen you smile in weeks"

Your heart sinks as you realize that you may not have been masking it well like you thought you'd been. Not at all.

You force a chuckle "I'm smiling right now"

She turns over to face you, the side of her face sinking into the soft pillow as she looks into your eyes with serious worry. She doesn't even crack a smile at your joke. "Stop it, I mean a genuine smile. Something's not right... I can see it in your eyes"

"It's really nothing, I promise. Works just been a little stressful"

"Is that all?"

"I promise, princess" You reach over to move her hair out of her face, then you caress her cheek.

Sana sees the way you nod and how you're looking into her eyes as you speak. She almost believes it but she still has a feeling that there's something you're not telling her. If only you knew how frightened she is about this sudden change in you. She's watched it happen in real time and it brings this uncomfortable twisting feeling in her stomach. One that comes anytime she thinks about it.

But she reluctantly nods after staring into your eyes for a moment "Okay" Is all she says before initiating a change in position. Sana nudges you to lay on your back then snuggles herself into your side, draping her leg just over your lower abdomen. Her arm comes next, landing on your chest. Then she kisses your cheek "I hope you know that I'll always be here for you if you ever need to talk, I love you" She mumbles into your skin.

"I love you too"

Those were the last words spoken before the silence came back and stayed for good. Sana holds you tight like she thinks you might go somewhere and then she falls asleep, leaving you to think about her words. The look in her eyes is now engrained in your mind. They were almost desperate, looking to you for any answer that could give her some knowledge or anything that she can use to help you. It couldn't be more obvious that you need it.

It's killing her and you haven't noticed until now.

You couldn't sleep much at all and by the morning, you found yourself solemnly sitting on the edge of your bed deep in your thoughts once again. It was getting bad. So bad that you didn't even notice when Sana woke up. The moment her eyes flutter open she almost immediately feels it in the atmosphere—the darkness accompanied by the rain knocking against the window.

She looks over to the digital clock on the nightstand.

Five AM

"Babe?" Sana mumbles through a stifled yawn, sitting up in the dim room. It's still kind of dark out but she can see you clearly. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes and gives in to a short yawn as she waits for you to hum like you always do, or turn around, or do something to at least acknowledge her presence.

She sits up and scoots over "Please talk to me, you're scaring me" She says it in such a cute and wholesome way with her voice as sweet as honey. She's navigated her way next to you, her feet hanging off the bed as she tugs on the hem of her shirt nervously.

It's only then when you're actually snapped out of every bad thought you were having. You look over into her wide eyes and you open your mouth to say something, to lie and tell her to go back to bed. But you can't because there's a lump in your throat so big you're unable to convey any words so instead you swallow and turn your head away.

"Please"

In one last effort to get you to say something, Sana pushes her hand through the space between your arm and your torso, then she holds your hand and interlocks your fingers. She squeezes her hand and you squeeze back to let her know that you're there. You look over to her one last time and she's silently pleading with her teary eyes. "Sana, I..." You pause and swallow again when your voice wavers.

She perks up "It's okay, take your time baby" She comforts you.

"I never told you but... I've been through a lot in the past and I'm fucked up because of it"

Sana gives you a look. It's pity and it's so prominent that you can't even bring yourself to look her in the eye. She's silent for a moment and you start to worry if it's all too much for her to handle. She shouldn't have to deal with someone who's got tons of baggage. "Why did you feel the need to hide it from me?" She asks as a tear rolls down her cheek. That's not the only one though, following it comes multiple, leaving streaks of clear dripping down her face.

"It's a long story and it doesn't matter now. All I'd be doing is wasting your time if you let me sit here and bitch about my problems all day long. You don't deserve that"

You turn your head away from Sana when you feel a tear threaten to fall and you blink it away as quickly as you can. "I will sit here for days and listen to your story if I have to! I'm your girlfriend, I deserve to hear it" She persists but you only keep your head turned away.

"It's irrelevant"

A heavy, punishing silence follows your statement and you feel Sana let go of your hand and pull it away. You assume that she's going to let it go like you've told her to but instead she puts her palm flat on your back. There's this feeling of relief you get from it and when she begins to rub softly in circles, you feel comfortable again.

Then you look over to Sana because suddenly she's stopped the comforting motions and her eyes have seemed to go empty and there's this look of devastating shock on her face.

The thing is, she's seeing it all. All of your past experiences, the abuse, the negligence, the bullying, everything. Her breaths turn rapid as she sees it so vivid and clear. Graphic images of the torturous violence you've faced when you couldn't have been more than ten years old and then the nasty words they've said that's engrained so deep into your brain.

"Worthless" "Useless" "disgusting" "Kill yourself"

She hears it loudly echoing in her head then she gasps and a new rush of tears falls from her eyes.

You don't know what's happening but it's fucking terrifying and you try your best to snap her out of this trance-like state. "Sana" You call her name and grab her by the shoulders. Then you shake her a bit and with a blink she seems to be back "Are you okay? What happened?" You ask, your heart racing wildly.

Sana comes back, then she looks into your eyes again. But this time there isn't any pity. It's more-so understanding. Something about her gaze feels like she sees you, like she gets it and you didn't even have to say a word. "Oh" She almost sobs, then she whispers "My baby boy" and she wraps her arms around you.

Your heart melts completely and you finally break.

You cry into her shoulder, your tears staining her top but she could care less about it, she only holds you closer and tighter. She runs her fingers through your hair "My sweet prince" She starts, then she has to breath for a moment "You're perfect... you're enough... you're my everything."

"Sana" You shake your head, trying to reject it all, trying not to feel as much as you are right now.

"No" She pulls away from the hug, then makes a quick move to straddle your lap "I fucking love you... I need you" She holds your face in her hands so you have no choice but to look into her eyes. Those beautiful orbs that are so easy to get lost in. So much so that you don't even notice when she leans in to kiss you until your lips are already connected.

Your eyes shut and so do Sana's as you allow this newfound warmth to bind you. The kiss is so slow and sensual, you move your lips in unison with one another. You understand each other like that. If she parts her lips, you know your tongue should be in her mouth. That's exactly what you do. You lick into her mouth with a passion that tells her how much you love her—how much you need her. "I love you" You mumble into the kiss "I need you" then repeat what she said.

You can taste the salty mix of your tears, but neither of you care, you just continue to enjoy this kiss. It feels so good that you actually forget, you actually can't think of anything but Sana right now. That's all you've ever wanted to do. Your hands run up her top and you get a hold of the warm skin of her bare waist then you pull her closer to you.

Sana's hands leave your face, she grabs a hold of your shoulders and begins to push on them. You take the hint and lean backwards until you're laying flat on the bed with her on top of you. You shuffle around so your feet are also on the bed and she helps out with that. Then in no time, your lips are connected again and now you're back to devouring each other.

"Please... I need..." Sana mutters through the kiss but then she breaks it completely and puts her hands on your chest "I need you" You nod your head and watch as she pulls her top over her head. You need her just as bad right now in this vulnerable moment when you have so much love to give--she's all you need.

So you take your tank top off, almost missing the way her breasts fall free from her shirt. Sana leans over again and kisses you, there's more passion in it this time and you reach your hands over to feel her body. Her skin is always so soft and warm. Moments later you let your hands gravitate to her breasts and you begin to massage them slowly, almost like you're kneading dough but with a bit less rigor and a bit more care.

She moans softly into your mouth and then she pulls away. Sana looks into your eyes for a moment, then scoots herself back so she's sat on your thighs. She grabs the waistband of your pajama pants and begins to tug on them. You raise your hips and allow her to strip you of your pants along with your boxers.

Sana takes your cock into her hand and pumps you to life with her soft hand (There wasn't much work to do because you were already halfway there). You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can watch the moment she lowers her head and sticks her tongue out. She licks the tip softly with her hand still holding the base firmly and then she takes you into her mouth. The first feeling of her soft, saliva coated lips has a low and long groan forcing its way out of your throat.

Her eyes lock with yours and she begins to descend, her hot mouth taking as much of you as possible. Once her lips, come into contact with her fist she comes back up and starts bobbing her head while she strokes you. "Fuck.. Sana - that feels so... good" You sigh while her velvety tongue scrapes against the underside of your cock.

It's one of the best feelings ever, the best part being that Sana won't take her eyes off of you. Although she can't speak, her eyes tell you everything that you need to know. She's looking at you with so much love and care that it brings you some actual comfort, like you two are the only living beings in the entire universe right now. Anything that matters or has ever mattered is now irrelevant, not even your demons could get to you in this bubble.

That's what Sana does, and it's why you know that she's the love of your life.

You've known it for a while now but never has there ever been a moment like this thats made the fact so apparent. "I love you" There's a shudder in your voice when you say the words because she's doing everything right. Both her mouth and her hand are working together to please you and it only feels better the sloppier everything gets.

In a moment, Sana withdraws her mouth with a popping sound following and she begins to jerk you off "I love you more" she smiles, then pokes out her tongue to let it rest against your tip so she can lap up the pre-cum leaking endlessly. "You ready for me?" There's a cute smirk that accompanies the simple question.

"Yes please" You nod and then you watch as she takes off her shorts and panties. Now her completely bare body is exposed to you and everything about it is pure perfection. "You're perfect" You sigh as she climbs on top of you.

Sana only giggles "Not as perfect as you my sweet prince." Her smile makes your pupils dilate nearly ten times as big as they already were. You didn't agree with her, but you let her have this one because there's no use in ruining this beautiful moment with something as morose as self deprecation. It doesn't at all change the fact that her words make you so feel warm inside that it might just be enough to make the thick ice in your cold heart thaw.

She leans over, laying her soft body on yours and she kisses you softly. Your hands find her waist again—because they're supposed to be there—and you squeeze her supple flesh "I need you... so bad" You mumble the words desperately against her lips and Sana kisses you harder, reaching her hand down to find your cock.

It's throbbing in her hold, only for her and you feel her smile when she notices it. Sana lifts her hips and presses your tip into her entrance, wasting no time to lower herself nice and slow. Her tight cunt grips you firmly as she sinks down and you can't help but moan into her mouth as your nerves begin to register the heat.

"Fuck" Sana breaks the kiss, her face only millimeters away from yours when her thighs land on your lap. Her face twists up, her jaw clenches and her eyes shut as she tries to get used to the stretch of your thick cock. "Your cock is so fucking..." She grits, exhaling a hot breath against your cheek before raising her hips and slamming them back down.

She connects your lips again and then she begins to ride you, moving her hips up and down in this slowed and steadied rhythm. It has you bucking your hips to meet hers half-way because she feels so fucking good. Sana moans into your mouth freely and loudly, struggling more and more to continue the kiss as she fucks you.

Soon enough, her mouth is hanging open and it's you doing all the work, kissing, licking and sucking her plump lips.

There's something so perfect about being inside of Sana, especially when she's riding you. Her pussy wraps around you just right, like a tight warm hug (only it's sopping wet). With each movement she makes lighting each one of your nerves on fire to make sure that you feel the almost electric pleasure. It's how she moves her hips with such direction and purpose that has your toes curling and your heart pumping. Then it's the way her cunt clenches occasionally when you're completely buried inside.

Sana's an expert at this, she's mastered the art of riding you at this point in your relationship. She knows exactly what movements make you tick, how to moan your name, how to praise you--all to get you reeling with her name on your lips.

She knows you like the back of her hand.

She lifts herself a bit then plants her hands on your shoulders and she begins to roll her hips back and forth in a way that has your eyes threatening to roll back into your skull but you keep them on her. You have to see it. How perfect her tits look bouncing with the force of her motions, the pleasureful look on her face, the lust in her eyes and the sweat beading on her flushed body. Sana looks too perfect right now for you to miss anything.

"Sana, your pussy... feels so damn good" You moan, hands still holding on so tightly to her waist that you're leaving marks. "I fucking love you"

"You're so perfect, my love" A warm smile shows on her lips, she takes your hands and interlocks your fingers, pinning your arms to the bed. "I can't imagine... fuck" She moans involuntarily and she's getting close already "I couldn't imagine life without you" She admits through her warm haze.

"I'm not going anywhere, princess" You promise with so much conviction it's like God himself is speaking through you.

Because Sana fucking needs you just as much as you need her and you just can't let this depression eat you alive when you have her.

You won't.

Sana's the opposite of a liability. She only uplifts you, she makes you feel so good about yourself that you'd think you were on top of the world. She makes life worth all the bad and she's probably the best thing you have in this life. She's someone you can brag about without fail or embarrassment.

That is where you find some hope. Some actual hope in the sea of despair you've been floating lifelessly in.

"I-I'm close" Sana warns, snapping you out of your thoughts and it's definitely coming. You see all the signs. The way her hips stutter, how she's just bouncing her petite ass on your lap with her eyes shut and her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. There's also that pulsing inside of her wet heat that you just can't ignore.

She's right there

When she starts struggling to make her movements smooth, you take her waist back into your hands. Then Sana falls forwards, some of her brown hair getting in your face as you hold her in place tightly so she cant move. Before Sana can even complain about it you're using nothing but your core strength to piston your cock into her at a speed so ungodly it has her jaw dropping.

"Yeah - Yeah just like that, princess. Cum for me" Your voice shakes as you sing her praises because your body could give out at any moment if you keep fucking her like this. You begin to break a sweat, your cock burning up as you fuck her soaked cunt. The noise is filthy. Now that she's gone silent, you can hear it loud and clear. Every sticky squelch when your hips meet the backs of her thighs is so obscenely loud in your ears. "Come on, Sana" You nearly heave into her ear.

Then she begins to shudder and you know you have her when "Ah fuck baby I'm cumming. I'm fucking -" she cuts herself off with a vocal moan. Her slick wets your entire lap, spreading everywhere as her hips go wild in an attempt to ride out her high. You never stopped grinding into her either, all deep and slow inside so she'd feel every inch as she cums. "God" She sighs and then she stops moving and you follow suit.

Sana weakly brings her head up and connects your lips again. You kiss back, immediately pouring your entire heart into this kiss because she deserves it. She deserves everything. When she starts moving again you stop her with your hands "Baby" She whines, then your lips disconnect. She pouts at you "I want to make you cum" She tries moving again but you don't say anything.

You flip her over gently, then get yourself between her legs "I want us to cum together"

She looks into your eyes then lifts her hand to caress your cheek softly "Whatever you want my sweet prince" You nearly melt at the term of endearment because it makes you feel so connected to her. The genuine tone in her voice accompanied by the softness makes it even more intimate and the 'my' signifying that you're hers because you'll always be.

It's one of your favorites.

Sana notices how your eyes soften as you look into hers and you don't even break eye contact when you guide your tip towards her begging entrance. As you slide in, her eyebrows furrow, but she keeps looking at you with those big beautiful eyes. You lean over to put your lips on hers once more and that's when you begin to move.

You make sure Sana feels every single inch, the way you fuck her with such a slow, burning passion. It lights her heart on fire. "I can't - baby.. you're so deep" She's losing it at the angle because nothing compares to the way your cock rubs against her walls, just brushing past all of her tender spots.

The only thing you do is kiss her harder, your tongue exploring the warm confines of her mouth. Kissing Sana has always been one of your favorite intimate acts to do with her and if she'd let you, you'd have make out sessions that last hours upon hours on end.

Sana takes your lip in between her teeth as you pull away and then she lets go, her moans soft when you pick up the pace. You duck your head into her neck and you begin to kiss, lick and suck on the soft skin "Do whatever you want, I'm yours baby" Sana assures you, running her fingers through your hair as you begin to leave sweet marks on her.

You increase your speed a bit, not so much that it feels punishing but enough for her to know that she feels so good that you almost can't help yourself. "So wet and tight for me, princess" You growl against her skin and Sana begins to lose her breath.

"Yes - right there - fucking hell baby" Sana gasps, her arms wrapping tightly around your body. She stops herself from scratching even if she wants to and in the back of her mind she know's you would never mind it.

Either way she only hugs your body close to hers.

"Princess... I hope you're almost there cause... I" You almost whimper the words into her neck.

"Shh- I know baby, just go ahead" She rubs the back of your head in a way that feels so good that it's almost like magic. "Inside" and then a small gasp escapes her lips and before you know it, your cock is spasming inside of her and you're filling her tight cunt, painting those perfect velvety walls white. A choked groan escapes your lips and tears begin to brim your eyelids as the pleasure takes over your entire body. It has you nearly shaking, making the most expressive 'O' face you've made in maybe months.

"Fuck" You groan as you keep thrusting, fucking your load so deep it'll probably slip past her IUD. Then when everything else subsides, your cock almost goes numb as you try your hardest to get Sana there no matter what because she deserves it.

"Don't stop" Sana begs, and her voice sounds so desperate when she does because she's so close. All it took was for her to feel your cock spraying your warm cum inside of her to get her there.

When Sana's chest begins to rise you know you've got her "There you go baby, cum for me" You whisper and that's when a strangled—almost sob-like—moan leaves her mouth. You keep the pace to fuck her though it as she shudders through her orgasm.

You stop completely and you two just lay there in that position for a moment. Soon Sana begins rubbing the smooth skin on your back and you take a deep breath "I love you" you murmur.

"I love you" She begins and you give her a moment to gather her thoughts. You'd give her all the time in the world if you could. "I know I said it already but you can tell me anything. No matter what. I don't care how long it is or how fucked up it is, I want to hear your story. I need to"

"You won't look at me the same after" You mutter weakly, still not moving from where you are.

Sana stays silent for a moment "Yeah, maybe you're right" She starts off and it catches you off guard a bit but then she continues "When I look at you, I'll see someone strong. Stronger than who you were before because whatever you went through, it couldn't have been easy to endure. Most people would've already given up"

You finally decide to get off of her and you sit up on the bed. "How would you even know that?" The question might've seemed harsh but Sana knows you don't mean it like that. The reason you ask is because its scary. So scary that she's saying all the right things.

It's almost like she...

"Because I saw it!" Sana sits up as well, kind of regretting how her words come off "Well, glimpses of it" She corrects, then begins to think again and you allow it because you have no clue what to say at all "When I touched you, before we..." She shakes her head "I saw like... small pieces of everything. I saw the abuse, I heard the words.. I just... I couldn't believe it"

You only tilt your head because it's all you can really bring yourself to do. This revelation is nearly bone chilling and so inconceivable that you force yourself to believe that she's lying whether or not if it was out of character for her to joke or lie in a situation like this. "Sana that's not funny" You sort of scold her, but your voice isn't at all cold about it.

"I'm not joking" She insists.

Then, in your bedroom at maybe seven-ish in the morning, with the rain still hitting the window, Sana explains everything she saw in her visions in detail.

That's when you come to really believe that she isn't joking.

The warm water from the shower head cascades down your body smoothly and comfortably, nothing like the harsh rain outside. You wrap your arms around Sana and rest your chin on her shoulder "So if you already saw what I went through, why do I need to re-tell it to you?" are the first words spoken for the entire duration of your time in the shower.

It started off silent, the two of you cleaning each other and kissing as you enjoyed the hot water and each others presence. It was a well needed contrast from the endless talking you did in the bedroom just before. You can see the soft smile on Sana's face in the reflection of the glass door "Well, I didn't see everything" She turns around in your arms "and it'll be good for you to say it out loud, I mean I don't expect you to be better in a day. I get that it takes time but-"

Sana stops talking when you put your lips on hers, leaving a small peck on her lips. "Listen princess, you're not my therapist. I don't wanna dump that burden on you. You understand that it wouldn't be good for us, right?" It's true, treating your significant other like a therapist can lead to many bumps in a relationship. But maybe that's just another excuse as to why you've been hiding everything from Sana.

"Oh? Where'd you learn that?"

"The internet" You shrug

Sana puts her hand on your bare chest and looks into your eyes, with those loving eyes. "Well, I may not be a licensed therapist but it's important for me to know because I'm your girlfriend and I want you to be able to open up to me like I open up to you about everything" You open your mouth to say something else but Sana shushes you then she reaches for the shampoo "Now wash my hair for me, pretty please?" You can't help but smile because she's so adorable.

When Sana turns around and tilts her head back, you grumble "I still think its super weird that you have like... superpowers."

"How do you think I feel? I'm still freaked out about it" She whines playfully as you lather her hair in her shampoo. The scent is warm and floral and you can't help but lose your breath trying to inhale more and more of it. It's one of those scents that only Sana has. So to you, it quite literally belongs to her, no matter who else may use it.

"The rain stopped" You mutter softly to the girl laying on your chest with her leg thrown over you. Sana only hums at your realization and you turn over to look at the window. It's covered by your curtains because you've both decided to go back to sleep but you can still see the sun peaking through.

You smile softly, thinking about how you agreed to tell her everything when you wake up. It doesn't feel scary anymore. In fact, you were actually looking forward to getting everything off your chest. You know you'll probably end up crying in front of her again--which you're still a bit embarrassed about--but you also know that she'll be there to hold you and knowing her she'll probably cry too.

That's when you eventually doze off, and for once it's easy.

"Babe?" Sana calls your name but she only hears your heavy breathing and from that she concludes that you're asleep. She innocently shifts just a bit to make herself more comfy and it happens again.

She sees something

At first it's kind of blurry so it's difficult for her to make out but as it gets clearer, she realizes that it's the both of you cuddling in bed together.

Then just like that, it's gone. Sana jumps, a small gasp escaping her lips and it wakes you up. "Whats wrong princess?" You ask tiredly, blinking when you notice the tears running down her cheeks. "Bad dream?"

Sana only shakes her head "No... baby, it's beautiful" she cries. You try to sit up because you're really concerned but Sana stops you. "Just let me hold you" She sniffles and you reluctantly nod, allowing her to wrap her arms around you the best as she can.

You're put at ease because she doesn't seem sad at all.

It's almost like she's right where she wants to be.

#twice #kpop gg #sana twice #twice sana #minatozaki sana #kpop idol #kpop smut #girl group smut #smut #sana smut #fluff #male reader

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therealdisneyfan2319 · 2 years ago

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To Be Loved | Natasha Romanoff

Summary: You help Natasha open up in your relationship

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut (MINORS DNI), mild language

Word Count: 2.5K

Author's Note: This was a prompt from @wandashoeforlife because I needed Nat prompts and I don't write for her enough so that's gonna change here before too long. Enjoy!

“I still don’t understand why you think the blindfold is necessary,” Natasha pouted as you led her down the hallway.

“Because I don’t want to spoil the surprise for you.”

“Isn’t dinner enough?”

“No,” you replied, pressing a kiss to the palm of her hand, still leading her carefully down the winding hallway of the compound. Dinner was only the first part of your plan: the second part was yet to be revealed. Your girlfriend had no idea what was coming, but you knew she’d be thoroughly surprised.

You hadn’t been dating all that long. Really a majority of your relationship consisted of post-training hookups. It was mainly physical, the two of you running off to some odd room or one of your apartments in order to relieve whatever stress you were dealing with. Soon enough the physical turned into something a little more. She was the one who caught feelings first. Natasha, not knowing how to tell you how she really felt, pulled away. It took Clint and Wanda practically dragging the two of you into a room and making you two talk things out before she reluctantly admitted that she really liked you.

The first time you really kissed her, it was everything everywhere all at once while simultaneously being the most intimate moment you ever experienced. Intimacy didn’t come naturally to Nat. She seemed almost uncomfortable with any sort of romantic display especially when it came to sex. There was strikingly little difference between your post-mission trysts and evenings spent alone. She wanted it the way she always wanted it: hard, fast, and rough. Loud, passionate sex with Natasha was great, but any time you tried to slow it down she pulled you out of it. Tonight, however, you wanted to give her the quintessential romantic lovemaking session.

“Is it a puppy?” she asked, stumbling over her feet as she blindly followed you.

“Nope,” you chuckled.

“Is it a kitten?”

“Guess again.”

“A parrot?”

“Nat, why on earth would I get you a parrot?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I have no idea what you got me.”

“Well yeah, that’s kinda the point of a surprise, babe.” You reached for Natasha’s other hand, carefully guiding her around the corner and down the hall.

“So why the surprise? It’s not like it’s my birthday or anything,” she remarked.

“What, am I not allowed to surprise you?”

“Y/N, you don’t have to.”

“Of course I do. You’re my girlfriend and I’m supposed to spoil you. It’s in the official boyfriend handbook.” You watched as Nat’s face blushed a bright pink, accentuated by the black eye mask you pulled over her eyes. “Alright, and we’re here.”

“Where are we?” she asked.

“You’ll see in a second,” you smirked as you unlocked the door and gently coaxed her inside. Outstretched arms stopped her before she could wander in too far. “Okay, you can take off the mask now.”

Pulling down the mask, Natasha took in her surroundings for the first time: it was your room. Dozens of tiny tea lights illuminated the space, casting dancing shadows on the wall. Fake rose petals were strewn all over the bed in the most organized fashion you could muster. Your music playlist was stacked with the most romantic jazz music you could get your hands on. Her eyes widened in confusion as she saw all the work you’d done for her.

“What’s all this?” she asked, thoroughly confused at the scene in front of her.

“It’s the other part of your surprise. A romantic evening in, just the two of us,” you explained.

“I don’t deserve all this.” Her words were barely audible as her voice dropped to a whisper. They made your heart break a little as her face sank.

“Of course you do.”

“No I don’t.” She shook her head as she pulled the mask off her forehead.

“Nat, come on. Why would you ever say that?” You stepped forward to grab her, but she pulled away.

“I’ve never done anything to deserve this.” Her stalwart facade cracked as she wrapped her arms around herself, shrinking down so much as she tried to disappear from the discomfort of the situation. “I don’t even think I deserve you.”

“Natasha. Will you, will you look at me? Please?” You coaxed her head up gently with your hand. She refused to make eye contact with you even as her face tilted up towards you. It was absolutely heartbreaking to see her like that. You loved Natasha more than anything in the world. Why couldn’t she accept that? “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I’m not a good person, Y/N. I’ve done things and I’ve hurt people and…I don’t deserve to be treated like this.”

“Baby-”

“I don’t even know how to do this, whatever this is,” she admitted, motioning toward the rose-covered bed.

“You do realize none of that matters to me, right? I don’t care what you’ve done. I don’t care who you used to be. For cryin’ out loud I literally just blew up a ship with dozens of people still inside on our last mission. We’ve both done awful things, but that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve to be loved. Let me love you tonight, Nat.”

“It’s hard,” she whispered as her eyes glistened in the candlelight.

“I know,” you whispered back, running your hands through her luscious red hair. “It’s not your fault you’ve been hurt, but if we’re going to make this work then I need you to let me in, Natty. Can you at least try to let me in?”

Natasha looked up at the ceiling, blinking back the tears that were forming in the corners of her eyes. “God, why does this have to be so hard?” she asked.

“Beats me,” you chuckled. “This shit was hard enough before I became a superhero. But I wanna make us work, so can you let me in just for tonight? I can get rid of all this if you want, turn the lights back on if you want...”

“No. Keep them off. I like candlelight. But that music has to go.”

“I spent three hours putting that playlist together,” you pouted. Nat giggled, her hand trailing up to grasp yours that was on her neck.

“This is why I control the radio in the car.” You sighed, shaking your head as she teased you. You brought your free hand up to the other side of her neck, taking a step toward her as you held her.

“Let me love you tonight, Nat. Please?” you whispered against her lips. She gulped, swallowing down the lump in her throat as you stared deeply into her emerald eyes.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Taking all the care in the world, you gently leaned down and pressed your lips to hers. She practically melted into you, a deep blush spreading across her entire body. A certain tenderness bound the two of you together in that moment. It was like you were the only ones on earth.

Natasha had never allowed herself to feel such softness or tenderness before. Deep insecurity stemmed from a childhood of abuse and a lifetime of trauma. How could someone who had done such horrible things be worthy of something so beautiful? You kissing her with all the love and care in the world was new and different and wonderful. As your lips brushed against hers, she smiled at the new sensation of being adored. It made you smile, too.

Strong hands snaked down Natasha’s toned body, trailing over the curve of her toned ass and giving it a slight squeeze. She giggled as your noses touched, the subtle taste of peppermint leaving your mouth tingling. You pulled her close to you. Her body sat flush against yours as her hands rested on your chest. Natasha gazed up into your eyes while she nestled herself in your embrace. As you gazed back down at her, there was a glimmer in her eye. You couldn’t tell if it was fear or excitement or desire. Whatever it was, it hadn't been there before you kissed her.

“Can I carry you to bed?” you asked. Natasha nodded, giggling as you bent down slightly to give yourself enough leverage to lift her up.

“Don’t fall.”

“I’ve got you, baby,” you reassured as you gently placed her on the bed. The weight of her body in the middle of the bed completely messed up your meticulously arranged flower petals. Neither of you seemed to care all that much as you crawled on top of her.

A sense of nervous giddiness washed over you as your lips met tentatively. The improvised dance between your mouth and hers was one that had been done a thousand times before. This one was different. This one was a first meeting, the first dance between two souls destined for something much bigger than the two of them could imagine in the present moment. This slow, hesitant dance soon turned into a familiar exploration of each other’s mouths with your tongues. Hands soon followed, tugging and pulling at clothes until all of your garments were in a jumbled pile on the floor along with half of the rose petals.

Natasha’s arms were wrapped around your back, pulling you down into her as you ground your pelvis into hers. Your erection was throbbing from the stimulation. She rolled her hips up at the contact, whimpering as wetness pooled between her legs. You could feel your heart pounding in your throat at the anticipation of pushing yourself inside her.

“You ready?” you asked. Natasha nodded, her lower lip in her teeth as her face flushed with arousal. “Here.” You reached for her hand, guiding it down to where your cock was nestled between your bodies. Placing your hand over hers, you gently closed her hand around your length and pushed it down to the heat between her legs. She stifled a moan as you drew your tip up and down her slit, thoroughly coating it in her juices.

The two of you let out a simultaneous groan as you slid your penis inside her. Her hole stretched to accommodate your girth, a tight fit as you filled her to the brim.

“Fuck,” Natasha whimpered as she adjusted to the fullness inside her. You watched her face contort in pleasure through the candlelight. The sight of her so overcome with pleasure ignited a carnal desire inside you, but you consciously reminded yourself that this was about more than just sex. This was about showing your girlfriend how much you loved her.

As Natasha relaxed around you, you slowly began to rock your hips in and out of her. Her walls coated you in a sheen of slick with each thrust. The pace you set was slow and deliberate, pulling your cock almost all the way out before burying yourself to the hilt. She wrapped her arms and legs around you and pulled you flush against her body. The two of you were coated in a glistening layer of sweat as you rocked your hips in tandem. You buried your head in her neck, kissing the exposed skin in a futile effort to stifle your moans.

The room around you was quiet as you continued your lovemaking. Natasha held you close, whimpering and gasping as her wetness echoed throughout the room. Her fingers tangled in your hair as you left love bites up and down her neck. The purple bruises that peppered her sensitive skin were barely visible against the faint glow of the candlelight that flickered against the walls. You found it harder to stay quiet the longer you pumped yourself inside her. Nat’s walls fluttered and squeezed around your cock, the tightness keeping you buried in her cunt. Gripping the sheets with white knuckles, your lips hovered over hers as you slowed your thrusts further, relishing in the feeling of her soft, warm walls squeezing your length.

You watched as the veins in your girlfriend’s neck strained as she arched her head back against the pillow. Your ungodly slow pace was driving her absolutely insane. Every subtle movement inside of her sent throbbing waves of pleasure throughout her entire body. As your head hovered over hers, lips a whisper apart, her face contorted in pleasure as you pulled out and pushed back in. Natasha’s eyes screwed shut and her mouth gaped open as she gasped. It took all your determination to not buck your hips wildly into her. The heat spreading under your skin so quickly meant you didn’t have much time left.

Resting your forehead against hers, your breath coming in shaky pants, you slowed your pace even further and increased your force, slowly pulling your penis out of her tight grip before forcing it back in. The sound of slapping flesh joined the quiet gasps and moans echoing off the walls, your hips smacking together while your balls swung wildly behind you, stopping only when they hit Natasha’s red, swollen cunt.

As the pressure built inside you, Natasha unwrapped one of her arms from your back and reached up over her head in search of your hand that was white knuckling the sheets. Her fingers interlaced with yours. The two of you squeezed each other’s hand as your pace quickened ever so slightly, your cock pounding in and out of her tortured hole. She stared up at you with wide eyes, her mouth agape as her own orgasm grew within her core.

The coil in your stomach tightened to a precipice. There was no stopping it. Your nose bumped hers as short, airy gasps escaped your mouth. Bearing down with one final hard thrust, you emptied yourself inside of her as your entire body convulsed with overwhelming ecstasy. The feeling of your seed inside her aching core and the pulsing of your length against her walls drove Natasha to her own orgasm. She moaned against your lips as her walls clenched rhythmically around you. You groaned, collapsing into her shoulder as she milked your already sensitive member.

Your thrusts came to a gentle stop as you finished filling her to the brim. It was all you could do to lie there and not crush her while you struggled to return your breathing to its normal state. You felt a hand come up and rest in your hair.

“Are you okay?” Natasha whispered as she gently tugged at your sweaty, matted locks.

“Yeah,” you mumbled into the crook of her neck. You turned your head to look at her. Her lips were swollen and her face was flushed, her long red hair tousled from being flattened against the pillow. “You?”

“Mmhmm,” she nodded, biting her lower lip.

“I love you,” you whispered, tilting your head to kiss her softly. “I love you so much, Nat. I don’t want you to ever think that I don’t. Because I do.” She smiled at your words, fully melting into the sense of safety and love you provided. For the first time in her life, Natasha felt safe and loved. It was all you could do but hope that this would be the start of something new, something special, between the two of you.

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff fic #black widow fic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x male reader #natasha x male reader #black widow x male reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #therealdisneyfan2319

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oliviaischillin1204 · 3 months ago

Text

tickletober day 18- "tickle fight"

word count: 4,509 words

welcome to day 18 my friends!! this is a recursive fic (meaning a fic based on another fic) so i've gone ahead and linked the original story under the cut- you def don't have to read the og fic before this one, although i do recommend it bc i love it to absolute death and it's soooo cute jdfgdhj. also please don't @ the author abt this fic, just be respectful please, thank youuuu!

Once upon a time a very silly thing happened, and now all of the Sides were friends again. If that seems like an oversimplification, well, Patton sometimes felt that way too.

Of course, nothing about that whole situation- Roman, Remus, Virgil, and Janus being turned into children, with Logan and Patton having to take on the role of parents as they desperately tried to make everything go back to normal- had felt simple in the slightest while it was actually happening. But now that it was all over, after so many confessions, secrets, and long-overdue apologies had been shared, it was honestly surprising how easily the six of them had gotten used to acting like a family.

For example, tonight they were all sitting together on their absolutely massive couch, which was just big enough for all six of them to sit side-by-side with only minor squeezing (which none of them really minded, hence why no one had suggested they get a bigger couch yet). Roman and Remus had worked together to create it-- it was kinda cute, how much they now tried to collaborate on even the most minor of creations.

A movie was on the TV, but honestly, none of them were paying attention to it. Roman and Virgil were holding hands and murmuring lowly to each other, giving each other soft, shy looks as if they were completely alone; Janus and Remus were attempting to throw popcorn into each others mouths, too busy laughing to even notice how loud they were being; and Patton and Logan, each sitting on opposite ends of the couch, were overlooking the entire soft scene with unbelievable fondness.

Every now and then they would catch each other's eyes over the heads of the children-- the other Sides! Not children!-- and smile, tired and fondly exasperated at the others' antics. It was funny how comfortable and familiar the new dynamics around the Mind Palace already were; with Logan by his side, and the others all getting along for the first time in a very long while, Patton felt like this was exactly how things were meant to be.

Suddenly there was a small noise of confusion right next to him. He turned to find Remus holding a popcorn kernel in his hand.

"Uh, ex-cuse me," he said, leaning forward and holding the kernel up threateningly. "Which one of you nerdy prince wannabes threw this at me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Roman replied in a haughty voice. "Did you find that distracting? Having someone throw something at your head while you're trying to enjoy a movie?"

Remus cackled. "I didn't throw a darn thing at you, brother mine. I would never." He finished his sentence with a sickly sweetness, batting his eyelashes.

"Oh, so it wasn't you? What about all of this?" Roman gestured to the blanket he and Virgil had been sharing, which was now covered in popcorn crumbs and kernels.

Remus shrugged, grabbing another handful and popping it in his mouth cheerfully. "Don't know what to tell you, Princey. Maybe Pop-Goes-The-Emo needs to learn how to eat without making a mess."

"Maybe you need to learn how to aim," Virgil shot back. "I don't see how you keep missing Janus' mouth, considering how big it is-"

"Excuse me?" Janus replied, jostling Virgil with his elbow. "Why am I getting dragged into this now? I did nothing wrong."

"You started it!"

"No, Remus started it."

"I knew it!"

"Oh, bite me, you-"

"That's enough, now," Logan interjected, just as Patton was opening his mouth to do the same. A moment of worry seemed to pass over the four Sides causing mischief, but luckily Logan softened his tone and his expression as he continued, "I suspect that this is all in good fun, but I would like to check if anyone is upset about anything that's been said. We can easily pause the film if anyone wants to discuss any crossed boundaries with the jokes."

Virgil wiggled a little on the couch. "Aw, come on, Logan..."

"Oh, I'm sorry, does talking about feelings embarrass you?" Logan replied, making Patton bite his lip to avoid snickering. "Because I think it's rather more important that everyone here feels loved and respected."

Janus scoffed and fiddled with his pajama set. "Of course, because we're so good at respecting one another."

"We do respect you," Patton replied, making Janus flush from the earnestness. "I know that after everything we've been through, we all respect each other, even if showing that respect is a work in progress. But the one thing that never changes is how much we love each other. I love you all so much!"

"Thank you, Patton," Roman droned; he too looked a little embarrassed, but his voice was good-natured. "And I apologize for anything I've said here that was uncouth. It was all intended in good fun."

"Same," Virgil said. "Sorry, Jan. About the thing I said about your mouth."

"Well, I suppose if I must accept your apology..." Janus replied. Logan fixed him with a stern look, and he huffed. "Yes, of course, you're forgiven, Virgil. And I'm sorry as well. Even though I literally don't think I did anything wrong."

"Sorry for being so silly! Can't help it!" Remus chirped. "Don't need any apologies, though. None of this actually pissed me off or anything."

"That's good," Logan replied. "Because you are definitely cleaning up your popcorn mess after the movie is over."

Remus gaped as the others burst into laughter. His lips turned into a dangerous pout, flopping back into the sofa and crossing his arms.

"Aw, come on, Remus," Patton chimed in. "I'll even help you do it! We'll get it all cleaned up in a jiffy!"

"Blah, blah, blah," he muttered, looking for all the world like a toddler put in time out.

It was all on instinct, really; Patton saw a grumpy child, and he knew what to do to fix it.

Before he could stop himself, Patton's hand made a claw shape and he vibrated his fingers directly into Remus' side.

The result was immediate, and extremely loud-- Remus shrieked, launching forward in an involuntary attempt to get away from Patton's squeezing hand. He tumbled forward and landed on the ground, scurrying backwards as he panted from the shock.

"Jesus fucking Christ and all his dick-ciples, Patton, why?" he asked, voice high and shrieky.

Patton was very aware of how all of the Sides were looking at them-- both in shock at Remus' outburst of laughter, and to see how Patton would react to his language-- but Patton didn't care. Something warm and familiar was rising in his chest, and he smiled lovingly down at Remus.

"What, you think I don't remember how to cheer you up?"

There was a beat, and then everyone else had a brief moment of fond embarrassment as they realized what Patton was talking about. They didn't talk about it much, about how Patton and Logan had taken care of them all when they had magically transformed into children, but it was never forgotten, even though the rest of the Sides (including Logan) still found the whole experience a bit awkward.

Patton turned to the others on the couch, his smile growing as they squirmed. "Come on, don't you all remember?"

He had only meant to keep teasing them, but at that moment Virgil's eyes widened to the size of quarters, and without further ado he shot up from the couch as well, jostling Janus at the same time and making the snake Side fall against Patton.

"No, I know that look, and I'm not doing this," Virgil insisted as he stepped to the other side of the room. But his eyes were bright, his cheeks were getting flushed, and there was a smile on his face that was obviously becoming harder to hide.

Patton bit his lip. "Oh, you don't wanna do this? That's alright-- what about you, Janny?"

And with that, Patton reached down and grabbed Janus as best as he could around the waist, curling him into the crook of his arm and mercilessly tickling his stomach with one hand.

"Wait wait wa-ait!" Janus gasped, hands shooting down in a desperate attempt to pry Patton's away from him. "Nnnno, Patton, this is ridiculoussss ahahahahaha! Nohohoho!"

"Aw, Janus remembers!" Patton cheered. A nervous giggle forced its way out of Remus' mouth, still on the floor as he watched his boyfriend getting tickled. Roman narrowed his eyes.

"Look what you've started," he accused, pointing a finger at his brother. "Patton's never gonna let go of this now!"

"Oh, piss off, Pissy!" Remus snapped back, a manic smirk on his face. "You started it, throwing popcorn at my head!"

"You're right," Roman said. "I should've thrown the bowl."

Remus gasped, affronted, and before he could stop himself he reached out to grab Roman's ankle with one hand, his other hand clawing down the sole of Roman's foot with reckless abandon.

Roman made a noise in between a gasp and a squawk. "No!"

He yanked his foot back, but miscalculated, and suddenly he felt rather than heard Logan's breath get knocked out of him as Roman's knee collided with the logical side's chest. Roman flushed a little; he didn't realize he'd been leaning so far into Logan's side.

"Sorry, Logan--!" His voice was cut off with a small squeak by Logan suddenly wrapping his hands around Roman's calf, holding his leg in place.

"Where are your manners, Roman?" he asked. His face looked normal, but his voice was laced with something that made Roman want to giggle just hearing it. "I believe you owe me an apology."

"I already di-ihihhid!" Poor Roman couldn't even finish his sentence before Logan started squeezing all over his trapped leg, from the back of his calf to just above his knee to the soft squishy parts of his thigh. Now both his and Janus' laughter filled the room, along with Remus' delighted giggles as he watched from the floor. Virgil was still standing in the corner, tugging on his hoodie sleeves and failing to hide his shy smile.

Remus narrowed his eyes at the emo Side. "You're just gonna hide out in the corner like a scaredy-cat, huh, Vee?"

"Fuck off," Virgil snapped back, but the effect was lost with how flustered he sounded. "You're not getting t- you're just sitting there, too!"

"I'm not just sitting here!" Remus shot back, scrambling to his feet and facing Virgil with a Cheshire smile. "I'm saving my boyfriend!"

With that, he lunged to Virgil, managing to grab the anxious Side even as he hissed and jerked away from Remus' grasp. Remus tightened his arms to hold Virgil against his chest, and dragged him over to Patton's side of the sofa.

"Special delivery!" he announced. "Care to swap a snake for a spider, Patty Cake?"

"Plehehehease!" Janus squealed, giggling like crazy

"Hm," Patton mused, smiling up at Virgil, "normally spiders scare me, but I think that one looks like a real cutie pie!"

"Patton- fuck off, Remus!" Virgil shrieked; Remus pushed him forward into Patton's lap, and as soon as Patton released Janus to catch Virgil, Remus was yanking Janus onto his feet and dragging him back across the room toward the safe spot. Still giggling, Janus gripped Remus' arm to stay upright as he caught his breath.

"Thank you, darling."

Remus preened and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Anything for my boo!"

"Ja-nus!" Virgil said. "You traitor- ahahahahaha!" His words were lost as Patton began haphazardly squeezing his sides and stomach, his large hands moving too quickly for Virgil to block.

"Plehehehehease!" Roman squealed; he'd tried to crawl away from Logan, but it was hard with how the logical side was rapidly switching between pinching his thigh and his stomach. He pointed a wobbly finger at his twin. "Rehehehemus!"

"Sorry bro-bro, but I ain't coming anywhere near you right now," Remus replied. "Someone else is gonna have to save you!"

Roman shook his head, forcing his laughter down just long enough to yell, "Logan get Remus!"

Logan chuckled lowly. "Oh, interesting. You think it's Remus' turn?"

Roman nodded desperately. Logan cast his eyes up to Remus and Janus, holding hands with nervous, giddy smiles on their faces.

"Hmm..." Logan said. All of a sudden he released Roman and stood up from the couch in one fell swoop. He wasn't much taller than Remus or Janus, but the way he rolled his shoulders and stretched made them feel very small.

"Remus, come here," he said simply.

"No!"

Logan took one step forward. "Remus..."

"Fuck no!" Remus stepped backwards, dragging Janus along with him.

"Come here-" was all Logan could get out before the chase began. Remus darted around the couch, Janus giggling madly in his wake, and Logan followed with an uncharacteristic playfulness.

Roman, catching his breath, managed to point and laugh as Remus ran. "Your turn, Dukey!"

"Fuck off!" Remus shrieked. Suddenly his heels dug into the floor, yanking Janus to a stop; Logan had reversed direction, and was now coming towards them head on. The two of them screamed, both in fear and delight, and darted in the opposite direction.

"Come on, Professor!" Roman called like a sports spectator. "You can catch them! Go for Janus first!"

"Excuse me?" Janus gasped. He paused just long enough in his running to flick Roman's ear.

"Hey!"

"Haha, nice!" Remus crowed. "Good job, babe!"

"Be nice, Janus..." Logan called. He managed to get close enough a few times to trail his hand across Janus' back, making the snake Side yelp every time.

"Nope, I'm out!" he called, yanking his hand out of Remus' grasp. He immediately stepped to the side, out of Logan's reach; lucky for him, the logical Side seemed dead set on catching Remus now, and they continued to run and duck around the furniture.

"Woah!" Patton said when Remus accidentally jostled his legs as they ran by. "Careful, kiddos!"

"Pahahaton," Virgil groaned. His face was dark and there was an adorable dimple on his cheek that just made Patton wanna coo. "We're not-- not kids!"

For a moment, Patton slowed his squeezing tickles as he readjusted Virgil, nearly pulling the other Side on his lap.

"Wanna know a secret?"

Virgil looked up at him, confused, and squeaked as Patton leaned his head down.

"You're always gonna be my kiddos, Virgey," he whispered in Virgil's ear. Virgil's blush couldn't get any hotter, especially when Patton began snuffling all over Virgil's neck and ears.

"Nahahaha!" he whined, feet banging on the floor. "Hehehehelp!"

He leaned his head against the back of the sofa just in time to catch Janus' eye as he continued to move in wary circles around the room.

"Jan!" he squealed. "Plehehease!"

Janus looked at his brother's face and softened like a wet tissue.

"Patton, honestly," he said, moving forward to stand next to the couch, "I think this... mortifying experience has gone on long enough, don't you?"

Patton looked up at him as he continued to tickle Virgil's sides. "Nope!"

"Perhaps it's time we let this game come to a conclusion?"

Suddenly Roman was behind Janus. "Perhaps not." And with that, he pushed the snake side over the arm of the couch, making him fall face first directly into Patton's lap.

"That's for flicking my ear!"

Patton made a noise of delight that was barely audible with human hearing. "Oh, thank you for the gift, Roman!" He shifted in a way that implied years of practice until he was holding both Virgil and Janus on each of his legs. His arms wrapped around their midsections and began haphazardly tickling their tummies in unison.

One would think that Janus and Virgil were actually biological brothers, the way they both clutched Patton's arm and threw their heads back in laughter in the exact same way.

"Janny!" Remus cried, looking both delighted and affronted that his brother had pushed his boyfriend directly into Patton's tickle trap. His steps faltered, just for a moment, but that was all it took before Logan could grab him around the waist and drag him (not so gently) to the floor.

Logan smiled like a mad scientist who'd brought his creature back to life. "Got you."

"Wait wait wait wait fuck no--" was all he could get out before Logan dug into his stomach with rapidly vibrating claws. Remus screamed, feet drumming wildly on the floor as Logan tickled him to pieces.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuhuhuhuck!"

"Language," Logan chastised lightly, like nothing out of the ordinary was happening at all. "Everyone else has had a turn, Remus. This is only fair."

"I don't need a tuhuhuhurn! This is-- hehehey!"

Remus couldn't even finish his protests before another pair of hands made their way to his sides. His eyes shot open only to see the smirky, snarky face of his twin hovering above him.

"Oh, we could never leave you out of the fun, dearest brother of mine," he sang, squishing randomly on any part of Remus' torso that he could reach. "I thought you liked playing silly games?"

"Go easy on him, Roman," Patton called out; he'd mostly stopped tickling Virgil and Janus, and was now merely holding the two of them as they got their stray giggles out. "Don't hurt him!"

"Oh please, he loves this," Roman replied. Remus screeched in indignation.

"Bullpoopy!"

Roman raised an unimpressed eyebrow. He shot his hand underneath Remus' jaw to scratch his nails along his neck, and Remus squealed, head scrunching into his neck like a desperate turtle.

Logan let out a small laugh himself, slowing down his tickling as everyone watched Remus fall into the most helpless giggles any of them had ever heard.

"Oh, goodness," Patton whispered, clearly delighted. Virgil was outright snickering at his friend's demise, and Janus' was watching on with a hopelessly romantic expression on his face.

"This is what you get for starting it all!" Roman declared, every inch of him clearly full of mirth. Logan peered down at Remus' bright red face, and brushed a bit of hair back from his sweaty forehead.

"Is that a very ticklish spot, Remus?" he asked. "Don't be afraid to tell me. I'll merely keep a note of it for later."

Remus shook his head. "I-- I--"

Immediately, Logan and Patton made eye contact. Remus sounded more wheezy than he had a moment before.

Their mouths opened at the same time, but to their surprise Roman had already pulled his hands away, a worried twinge in his eyes as he watch Remus calm down.

"Are you okay?" he asked immediately. "Did I go to far?"

Remus coughed once, causing Virgil and Janus to look even closer with matching nervous frowns to see if he was okay.

"I..." Remus said slowly. "I'm..."

Silence, for a beat.

And then Remus attacked: sitting up, pushing Logan away, and body slamming Roman until he was flat on the ground, all in one swift move.

"I'm gonna get you, Ro-Bro," he hissed, and there was nothing but giddy joy in his voice as he began tickling his brother right back.

Everyone in the group jumped as Roman screamed, loud, at the surprise tickle attack. There was a scrabble of limbs as the twins wrestled, shouts of laughter filling the room and making everyone giggly again.

"Play nice, boys!" Patton called out. Remus looked up, his tongue poking out of the corner of his cheeky smile.

"Yes, Daddy!" he replied. The he immediately dove down and blue a raspberry against Roman's tummy. The other side shrieked yet again.

"That's not nihihihice!"

Remus cackled evilly, and Patton considered stepping in himself to give that stinker a taste of his own medicine, but before he could move someone else beat him to it: Virgil, who wiggled off Patton's lap and onto the floor, crawled over to the two wrestling Sides, and attacked Remus' ribs with a flurry of fingers.

The snort that Remus released cracked through the room, and now he was the one laying on the floor, writhing helplessly as Virgil attacked him.

"I got you, Princey," he called over the fray, smirking at his boyfriend as Roman caught his breath. "Now hurry up and help me finish him."

Roman grinned brightly. "With extreme pleasure."

He dove in as well, and between the two of them Remus was well and truly screwed, batting at the four hands that were now wrecking him from every side. He tried to give back what he was getting, but it was just too easy to overpower him.

Logan's chuckles were low, but Patton could hear them despite the noise in the room. The two locked eyes and shared a secret smile before Logan's eyes drifted over to Janus, still half-sitting on Patton's lap.

"What about you?" he called. "Don't you want to help Remus?"

"He got himself in that mess," Janus said, cheeks flushing again as he looked at the tickle fight in the middle of the room, "and I'll have nothing to do with it."

Like a horror movie jumpscare, Remus shoved his upper body towards the couch, making both Janus and Patton squeak with surprise.

"Yes you will!" he said between giggles, and before anyone else could react he grabbed Janus haphazardly and yanked him backwards, making them both tumble back onto the floor-- and into the middle of Roman and Virgil's tickle attack.

"Human shield!" Remus screamed. He locked his hands behind Janus' back, keeping his boyfriend trapped on top of him.

"Wait-- no! No, no, Remus, nohohohoho!"

But it was too late: Roman and Virgil took no time at all diving in to tickle Janus all over his back and sides as he shrieked and squealed and squirmed.

"Evil!" Janus shrieked, trying desperately to push off of Remus' chest. "No-- no kisses until you letmegohohoho!"

Virgil cooed, leaning closer to Janus' ear. "Aw, you don't wanna kiss your boyfriend? Sucks for you, Jan." He finished the statement with leaning over to press a kiss to Roman's cheek, causing their respective brothers to make noises of disgust.

"You're dissssssssssgusting!" Janus gasped through his laughter. He gathered his strength and shoved Roman away from his little brother, drilling his fingers into Roman's ribs as the other side fell back on his haunches.

"Nah-- ahaha-- no!" Roman gasped. He keeled forward, grinning and giggling against Remus' stomach. Virgil tried to reach forward to push Janus' hand off of Roman, only for Remus to easily grab the anxious side's wrist and hold his arm out for Janus' other hand to dive under with wiggling fingers.

Around and around and around it went-- hands and fingers and curses and teases and giggles flew. Roman blew breathless raspberries against Remus' tummy while Janus fought to keep his fingers vibrating wildly under Virgil's arm. In turn Virgil dove down to scrabble his nail's blindly against Janus' back, while Remus did the same on either side of Roman's neck. The peals of laughter rose and melded into one loud happy harmony, and it wasn't long before the four of them were breathless with giggles, tickling without even seeing who they were attacking.

It was messy, chaotic, and perfect. Just like their family.

Patton wasn't sure when things had started to slow down. All he knew was that there was a sudden drop in the volume of the twins laughter-- it seems they had finally tired themselves out, and were now panting heavily from their disheveled positions on the living room floor. Virgil's giggles still rang through the air, albeit less desperate and more happy than anything else, until Janus relented with one final squeeze to his brother's belly before he, too, flopped back to the floor.

There they lay, those four Sides, curled like pretzels in a giant puppy pile, catching their breath and letting their last few giggles peter out. Patton took the time to examine the room: furniture shoved out of place in the mad scrambles to escape the tickles, the couch cushions were pulled out and squashed against the floor, and there was popcorn everywhere. He made eyes with Logan, expecting to see that familiar chagrin he knew so well, but was instead greeted with a look of nose-wrinkled affection.

"Blankets?" he mouthed, and Patton grinned. He reached over and grabbed one of the blankets they'd been using on the couch, and without warning threw it over the four Sides on the floor.

"Ah!" Virgil yelped first; he was the only one who saw it coming, but that half-second warning wasn't enough to save him or the others from getting absolutely draped in the oversized blanket. "D-- Patton!"

"Hm?" Patton said, grabbing the other two blankets and flinging them on the pile with ease. "Can't hear you!"

Someone was giggling again from inside the pile, probably Remus. Janus emerged first, his hair adorably mussed.

"Patton. Why."

"You looked so comfy! I wanted to help!"

"You could've helped us off of the floor."

"Aw, but you looked so cute down there." Patton giggled, lightly kicking at Janus' shoulder, causing him to hiss with displeasure.

Logan gave a light laugh. "You all did just play a very strenuous game." He reached out and patted a random ankle that was sticking out of the pile; it jerked back in over-sensitive self defense, Roman's gasp of laughter giving away its identity.

"Remus started it," came his muffled response. Remus blew a raspberry, worming his way out from underneath the covers.

"Oh, please, I didn't do shit! It was Pattycake!"

"Yes, it was!" Patton said proudly. "And I'd do it again!" Without warning he slid himself onto the floor and grabbed Remus around the waist, holding the squawking Side in a tight hug.

"My little kiddos," he cooed, and yes he knew he was laying it on thick but that was part of the fun. "Having so much fun together! It makes Logan and I so happy when you all play so nicely, I'm very proud of you--"

"Fine okay enough!" Janus shrieked; Virgil was reduced to desperate hissing as Roman buried his face in his hands. Remus pretended to gag, but Patton could feel how tightly he was returning the hug.

"Alright," Logan said warmly, silencing the group. "Let's regroup. Roman, Janus, will you fix the pillows and blankets, please? Virgil and Remus, go get some more snacks-- preferably ones that won't make a mess when thrown."

Patton watched as the other Sides, with good-natured grumbling, began working together to get their movie night back on track. It made something heavy in his chest get a little bit lighter.

He started when he realized Logan had joined him back on the couch, this time sitting right next to him. The two locked eyes, unable and unwilling to stop the soft smiles growing on their faces. Logan fumbled for Patton's hand, and he turned it over so they could lock their fingers together.

It was just another silly day in the Mind Palace. And there were so many more to come.

#my posts #my writing #tickling #tickle fic #tickletober 2024 #augtickletober2024 #tt24 #sanders sides tickling #ler!patton #ler!logan #switch!remus #switch!virgil #switch!janus #switch!roman #drafted on oct 10 2021

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thisisnottheblogyourelookingfor · 1 year ago

Text

My Little Sun

Rating: NSFW

Relationship: Pierro x Fem!Reader / Pierro x You

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Tags: smut without plot (maybe a little), reader is Pierro’s fiancée (arranged marriage), softdom!Pierro, mutual respect, mutual pining (alexa play ‘I won’t say I’m in love’), making love for the first time, LAP RIDING!, mentions of Il Dottore and the Tsaritsa, inexperienced reader when it comes to intimacy or relationships in general, big dick Pierro (both in energy and physically), blink and you’d miss edging, kinda rough sex, overstimulation, russian terms of endearment

Summary: Takes place in Pierro's office. Takes place on a chair iykwim.

A/N: I’ve never played the game before so please ignore if I got the details wrong. Keeping this as a one-shot at least for now. Hope you enjoy this little fic! Did not intend for it to be this long. Shoutout to @jinseinomerry-go-round spending the time explaining so much about the game and encouraging me to write this (my inner whore thank thee)!! <3

Sorry if the terms are used wrongly and is cringe.

Word Count: 2209

[AO3 Link]

Minor backstory (feel free to ignore this and imagine reader however you like): Reader has the skillset of a rogue/spy but it was out of the need to survive their harsh homeland rather than using them as a profession. Still, it doesn’t stop the other harbingers and the Tsaritsa from keeping them under constant surveillance and they can never leave the harbinger’s headquarters. They are currently engaged to Pierro for political alliance reasons and is always either in his company or nearby his office, which he spends most his time in. Reader could try and figure a way to escape the place but it doesn’t help when you’re the fiancée of the First Lord Harbinger who happens to have a variety of skills right at his fingertips. No…you’d have to approach things differently.

Terms used:

Милая (Milaya) – dear/darling

Лапочка (Lapochka) – sweetheart

моё маленькое солнышко/солнышко (Moye malen'koye solnyshko/Solnyshko) – my little sun/little sun

Жизнь моя (Zhizn’ moya) – my life

It was just like any other night at the harbinger’s headquarters. Pierro busy at his desk, sorting through paperwork, dishing out the last few remaining tasks of the day, and already planning ahead for tomorrow's briefing. You were in the office mindlessly browsing through the bookshelves. At some point you wondered if you've already passed that row of books and does he notice? Does he think you're acting strange? you shake away those thoughts and picked a random book, making your way to sit on the chair across his desk, trying your best to not do anything that may disrupt his focus. Then again, he never seems to be distracted by you. You're pretty sure that you're just as much of a presence as the wind when the doors to his office opens and closes. It doesn't bother you… right? Still, you insist on staying up with him for as long as you can. It wasn't always like this. Initially, you were always in the same room as him as a show of respect that even though you may not have necessarily agreed to be his intended, you would respect the alliance. But now? Now you find yourself willingly spending more time just being there, with him. There may not be much of a conversation going on but it felt strangely comforting to be in the same room together and you weren’t alone in thinking that. Of course, the two of you would never admit it out loud.

In the midst of your thoughts, he suddenly spoke to you.

"I-I'm sorry my lord, I'm afraid I hadn't catch what you've said" he was reading something, not even bothered by your response before simply repeating himself, "you've spent time in Liyue, I asked if you could take a look at this and tell me what you see".

"Yes, I'd be happy too, my lo-" "Pierro." "I'm sorry?" "Please, call me Pierro. It would hardly seem fitting that a lady in your position should address her soon-to-be husband in such an unfamiliar manner, especially behind closed doors." "....of course....Pierro. I would be happy to take a look at that report for you."

You got up and stood next to him, slightly bending down to read the report. You held onto the paper with one hand while he held the other side. A soft smile started to form on your face, "hmm....glaze lilies...pop's teas...this is Qingce Village! Oh it's such a beautiful place in the Bishui Plains. Did. You. Know. They've got terraced fields of flowers? AND! They were believed to be the scales of a mighty dragon!" You excitedly continued talking about the things you’ve seen and places you’ve been during your time in Liyue.

You hadn't noticed but with how close you were standing next to him, Pierro couldn’t help but look at you, studying your features quietly, eyes wandering to how a smile slowly formed on your face. Eventually, the silence and lack of response from him has you looking at him and… there. Both of you locked eyes and it's almost as if time stopped for a moment. Breaths hitched; hearts skipped a beat. It's not as if you both hadn't made eye contact before so why does this time feel...different?

It felt like forever and suddenly, Pierro reached a hand out to caress your cheek and slowly bringing you into a gentle kiss. It surprised you and you start to lose your footing falling forward, hands hitting his chest. He caught you, lips never leaving yours, he sat you on his lap and deepened the kiss. As soon as the kiss ended, two of you were now breathing heavily and looking at each other, unsure what just happened.

"Apologies. That was..." "No... it's.... it's alright. Really, Pierro. It's...." you didn't even finish your sentence and you just went in to kiss him again. You're not sure why you did that but it felt nice, it felt right.

You shifted your leg to sit more comfortably on his lap not breaking the kiss and accidentally bit his lower lip. Immediately pulling back you started apologising profusely, "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" "It's alright, my dear" "I shouldn't have gone in like that, I didn't think it would-" "I'm fine, milaya. Hey..." he cups your face and continues, "you have done nothing wrong. You have nothing to apologise for." "I'm sorry... it's just... I've never..."

"We don't have to do this, milaya." "No, it's not that... it's.... I don't know how."

His smile softens at that, "if you'll have me, I can help you. If it gets too much, you only have to say the word and we'll stop. But whatever it is, we do it together. So....tell me. What do you want, milaya?"

"I.....I want....you. I want you, Pierro. I....I want us to be more than the small conversations, the courteous gestures we perform in front of the others to show that we're merely an alliance. I want more than the silence we're constantly dancing around with, more than the passing glances we give each other when we walk the halls, more than the promise that comes with these....rings. More than just you or me. I just.... I want us."

You were both quiet now as your words ring throughout the room, reverberating off the walls as if a spell has just been casted and the effects made stronger with each echo.

His gaze darkened just then and with a low voice, "take off your clothes" "w-what?" "Do you trust me?" You hesitated if only for a moment before nodding softly. "Then take off your clothes." You stood up and slowly removed your blouse and trousers, leaving only your undergarments. The cold air hitting you now and making you slightly shiver. He then pointed at your undergarments "those too" "but Pier-" he merely looks up at you and it sent a chill colder than the air through your spine. So, you removed them and this time, you were really shivering. See, you're not used to the weather here in Snezhnaya, you'd much prefer the warm sun and the light breeze. How anyone survives the harsh cold here is beyond you. You’ve even heard that some people die if they weren't constantly moving outdoors to keep their body temperatures up. Now here you were completely naked standing in front of Pierro, hugging yourself and trying to brush off the cold to no avail.

"Come here," he pats his lap. No hesitations there, you were freezing. Any excuse to snuggle close to that lush fur coat of his is nothing short of appealing right now. You quickly shuffled forward and sat on his lap facing him, legs unintentionally straddling his thighs as you try to quickly curl up against him. While it doesn't help much, it does feel better being closer to a warm body. Pierro notices your slight relief and couldn't help but to lightly smirk at your reaction. Using his thighs, he pushed your legs apart to allow him space to unbuckle his trousers. The sudden spread of your legs left you slightly jolted as a cold wind hits your folds. Seeing his length free now, hard, you forgot about the cold for a second and just stared. Oh. Well, this would be a challenge. "Touch yourself" huh? Oh. It didn’t quite register in your mind if he just said what you think he said and you were about to say something but the way he said it gave you the sense that maybe… don’t test his patience. Reaching down, you slowly but skilfully circled your clit. As cold as it is, somehow this whole situation has managed to arouse you and you were wet.

Pierro watches you with lust-filled gaze and starts pumping his cock. Never once breaking eye contact as he watches the way you try to hide your moans and whimpers. By the gods is this truly happening before his very eyes? He's not felt such an intense emotion since the fall of his homeland and certainly not for a person, besides the Tsaritsa but that's different. Yet here you are now making an absolute mess of yourself and dripping on his lap. This has got to be some sort of trick. Did he accidentally fall asleep and is now living some kind of illusory experiment conjured up by Dottore? Perhaps this is just a dream. Whatever it is, he doesn't want to wake up from it. Not when you're giving yourself to him so willingly, following his every command. And certainly not when he can clearly see you coming undone, your breath getting heavier and more ragged, indicating you're close.

He stills your wrist just as you were about to cum and stops his own motion. You whined ever so sweetly, music to his ears. "Shh, lapochka." He places both your hands around his neck and lifts you up a little closer to his cock. You were still sensitive from that interrupted high and the months of longing hadn't exactly made you any less sexually frustrated at the lack of touch. You'd never tell him but Pierro has always been easy on the eyes. You do find him handsome and it helps that he's got the physique of someone who can either take you in a fight or take you in well... this. So, it didn't take much to set your nerves on fire and Pierro knows this. Oh yes. He's seen the ways you'd pretend not to walk past a little slower when he changes into his armour, he's noticed the blush on your cheeks when he greets you in the morning with a peck on your hands, or the way you lingered in his office to stay up late with him until you eventually pass out on the seat across his desk with the book still in your hands. What was the book you were reading earlier? Ah yes, ‘Shipping Manifest: Logbook #3’ an interesting read. Seeing you slowly unravelling and for him nonetheless, makes him so proud and very excited. Oh the things he wants to do to you.

He teases your entrance with the tip of his cock. You gasped a little. Sensing your nervousness, he asks softly "do you want to stop, lapochka?" You let out a quiet no and with that he lifts you up gently, lining you to the tip before slowly guiding you down on his length. Inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to his girth. The last thing he wants is to hurt you.

You held onto him tighter, arms still around his neck as you steady yourself down. He's big and it is your first time. The moment you were almost halfway through, you realise you've been holding your breath. You let it out shakily and closed your eyes. Pierro began rubbing the nub of your clit to ease away the discomfort. It was starting to sting and your eyes were watering now but the way he was playing with your clit kind of offset the pain. It was overwhelming. It was pain. It was pleasure. It's too much and it's not enough. You let out a cry as Pierro suddenly shifted his hips and thrusted into you hard while slamming you down to the base. Your vision turned white and you swear you could see stars swirling about. The shock cutting off your yelp and your mouth was just left open, no words or sound coming out. The impact pushed you so close to the edge that when you finally came to, the air left your lungs in a loud and uncontrollable moan. He made shallow thrusts until you cum for the first time that night. But he did not stop there. He continued riding you through the high and this time with deep long thrusts. Holding your waist up and letting gravity slam you back down. The sensations were making you hazy. You buried your face in the crook of his neck as he continued to thrust harder and faster into you. Before you know it, you were calling out his name and cumming all over his cock again.

Your whole body slumped against his chest, exhausted. He's going slower now, giving you time to catch your breath. Then, he slowly picks up the pace, and you can't help but to moan into his neck, the sound vibrating against his skin. Your eyes were still closed and sleepiness were weighing on your eyelids. He coaxes you to open your eyes and directed your sight towards him going in and out of you. Something about it makes you feel warm. The sounds of the sloppy wetness like a symphony. With his free hand, he gently turns your face to look at him "Moye malen'koye solnyshko... My little sun...zhizn' moya…do you see it? How we fit together? How we are made for each other?" He brings his forehead against yours while softly rubbing his thumb against your flushed cheeks as you start to feel your climax building again and as you go over the edge, breath hot and heavy against his skin, he runs his hand behind your back soothing you. Softly whispering in your ear "shh... I've got you solnyshko... I've got you."

#pierro genshin impact #pierro x reader #reader insert fic #pierro #reader #fic #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #userthisblog

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ronearoundblindly · 9 months ago

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heh heheheheheheh 😏 A, Q, & Y for Ransom pretty pls 🫶🏻💕

*General/Canon Ransom and RoAR!Ransom have been requested, so I'll describe it like before he met his rich!reader and after. I would like to remind everyone that Ran is a *super-duper dickhead* who thinks very rudely and drops f-bombs left and right. This serves as your warning. Enjoy!

Prompts based on this dirty ask game. MINORS DNI.

A - Alone Time

BEFORE - On the off chance he can't find a booty call from the long list in his contacts, yeah, Ran will jerk off. He also has toys, several, and will watch a variety of porn because he barely pays attention to the actual content. Vague sex vibes only are required.

He is not gentle with himself. There is not foreplay. He concentrates more on his pleasure than imagining anyone else participating with him.

Ya know, kinda like how he has actual sex. He doesn't fucking care as long as he gets off.

AFTER - So it's no longer the rolodex of his contacts. Ran's found phone sex with you (due to you traveling soooo much). He'd probably attribute this to just being around you and seeing you more than any other sexual partner--he never had a girlfriend before you--but Ransom does picture your face and body when he gets off alone.

It's not a love thing. It's from all the exposure. He's fucked you more than any single person ever and sees you over video chat. It's not because you unlocked a real human connection for him.

He...does seem to come a lot harder when he imagines you with him and your voice taunting, praising him.

Fucking hell!!! If you ruin masturbation for him, he's gonna be so fucking mad, you fucking bitch.

Now where the hell is your perfume and his fleshlight?

Q - Quiet Please

BEFORE - His volume varies. He hates listening to overdone moans from whichever bimbo is on his dick. Boring. He doesn't really need them to enjoy himself. Save the casting couch shit for someone who cares.

AFTER - His volume varies, but overall, he makes a fuckton more noise than he did before. You especially like him loud when riding him. He hams it up a little then. He performs. Whatever. Sue him.

Many times now, it's been established that Ran really fucking enjoys your genuine vocalization during sex. His brain has filed them away from rainy days, or rather, international timezone days.

Y - Yes, Master

BEFORE - He's been called 'daddy' by several women, but he never told them to do that. He didn't correct them either. He does not participate in BDSM scenes because if he has to discuss the sex that much, he's already bored.

Ran would have said that calling him 'Hugh'--unless he's actually fucking the help--would instantly kill his boner, but apparently...

AFTER - You call him 'Hugh.' He's grown fond of it.

Something about you calling him 'Ran' or 'Ransom' sounds very cold and distant, it sounds like you're mad at him, and it sounds like you don't know each other now. He's either scared or deeply disturbed by you referring to his middle name when you two are all alone. (In public, for the most part, you introduce him as 'Ransom' so that other people don't try to call him 'Hugh.' He will fucking lose his shit if John Doe Fuckface calls for 'Hugh Drysdale' to donate money to something. Shove. It up. Your ass. Buddy.)

In the past, he's called women 'whore' and 'slut' and whatnot in the bedroom, mostly for their benefit. Ran is afraid to call you any of that because you're in the unique position of retaliating...and he cares. Like if you withhold sex? That's very bad for him.

He never had to think much about this.

He's slipped and called you 'bitch' in heated moments, which has seemed to amuse you more than anything else. That confuses Ransom.

Between 'Hugh' and 'bitch' while you two fuck, there's a pattern sometimes. You degrade him; he makes you come till you can't stand. He gets to walk away as a taunt. It's a great system for him.

Why does he like that? Why does he still think of that one fight in the woods between your house and Harlan's? Why can't he forget that one magnificent awful time you referred to yourself as 'momma' to deeply fuck with him? He won't bring it up because if you don't remember it happened, then he doesn't either. Never happened.

You have called him 'Daddy' a grand total of one time, and it was worth it, not for any sort of kink, just a nod to how much shit you two had been through up until that moment. It was a big deal. He'll remember that forever.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-fi]

#ro answers #dirty asks #ask game #the root of all ransom #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x female reader

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genshinfanboy · 1 year ago

Text

His childhood friend

|Hello everyone who sees this. I'm finally back kinda my writings this is not the work in progress I mentioned before that one is still a wip. I will still be slow but that's no surprise to those who follow me. This will be a childhood friends au. The reader isn't the traveler. Anyways feel free to change the pronouns to fit your own. Please enjoy and have a wonderful day or night.

Scenario: He was typically alone in his youth very few he'd actually call friends. Though you were always there beside him. If anyone dared to say anything bad about him with you around you'd always come to defend him. He didnt care what was said about him but knowing you were there was endearing to him. As you both grew up he developed a bit of a crush on you. How could he not become enamored by you after all you were always there when he needed someone.

Alhaitham x A Male Reader

Warnings: Mentions of bullying, alcohol and being drunk in Alhaitham's, minor angst ending with comfort, some big and small spoilers for archon quests as well as character stories, and long|

Alhaitham:

It's not a surprise to many people to know the scribe wasn't liked by many people. He knew this as well and chose willingly to ignore the comments said behind his back. His senior Kaveh only seemed to add to them but he knew Kaveh wasnt a bad person. While he wasn't liked by many of his peers it didn't bother him much.

He didn't care about their opinions as they didn't matter much to him. Though he'd be lying if he said no one's opinions mattered to him. His long time friend's opinions mattered. More than he'd ever be willingly to admit out loud. They grew up together after all not many could blame his thoughts even if they did seem irrational. It seemed he wasn't the only person that had his eyes on this person. (Name) were objectively attractive and super kind.

He remembers fondly when they had met as he traversed home. The two met because (Name)'s parents were good friends with his grandmother. His grandmother was asked to watch the other for his parents who went on an expedition to the desert. The other wasn't considered a genius by the Akademiya standards unlike himself.

Though their differences in intelligence didn't seem to deter his dear (Name). In fact it seemed he wanted to be Alhaitham's friend even more due to that fact. He wanted to be there to support him or talk if needed. He knew the pressure put on those considered geniuses by the Akademiya. He would constantly ask what Alhaitham was reading and read it too. It'd take him more time to read the book but he was always excited to hear what scribe had thought.

He had a knack for caring for others. (Name) was gentle and caring. Whenever someone got injured hed tend to them best to his ablitlies. Alhaitham remembers back to his akademiya days where (eye colored) male would tend to Kaveh when his senior would get injured.

There were also others who'd intentionally fall in front of him to get his care. He was wildly popular kind of like Tighnari. The abount of people who would do things to get (Name)'s attention. The scribe sometimes wished he was clumsy to be treated by his best friend like others. Whenever he was sick the other would dote on him and he did enjoy it.

Whenever he was sick Alhaitham could feel his gentle hands check his temperatures. He both hated and loved being sick. On one hand he'd receive all of (Name)'s attention but on the other he'd feel awful. It wasn't like he was sick often. He took very good care of himself.

During his time in the akademiya the other could tell when he wasn't interested in interacting with others. (Name) would take any attention off of the scribe and put it on himself. That way Alhaitham could read in peace. It was nice to know someone cared about when he didn't wish to socialize.

The memories soon became a bit bitter for the scribe. His dear friend had been away in another nation for what felt like a long time. (Name) was an amurta scholar that left a year ago to learn about plans in Mondstadt. He only knew the other left when a letter arrived at his desk. During the time he was unable to leave while dealing with the grand sage situation.

Once it was resolved he still had to deal with being the acting grand sage. Which meant he had to deal with the hive mind situation. Not once did he get another letter. His roommate had made some comments about him being more irritated than normal. He brushed off what Kaveh had said of course. Though the architect was the only person who knew of his best friend. His words did have some merits to them.

Alhaitham was typically supportive of the other's academic endeavors however he left without a word in person this time. It hurt him quite a bit but none could tell. Things had finally calmed down for him and as irrational as it was he was super tempted to take a leave of absence and make the pointless travel to Mondstadt. He'd rather do nothing at all if he takes a leave of absence.

It was driving him mad not being able to see him for long. Alhaitham was used to seeing him at least once a day every day. Now it's been a year. The only thing he's gotten from the other was a gift that arrived on his birthday. Thinking on everything made his mood sour a bit.

The dendro user never thought someone could effect him to the point others notice a shift in his attitude. Which he was wrong about both Cyno and Tighnari had told him he seemed longing for something or rather someone. He rolled his eyes remembering the phrases they used. He turned his music up not wanting to hear anything around him.

Alhaitham's thoughts had become too disorganized for his preference. He brought out the book he'd be reading. He still paid attention to his surroundings effortlessly avoiding bumping into anyone or anything. He started to sort through his thoughts. Then something Kaveh had once mentioned became the loudest. "You know if you had just confessed your love he may have never left." Repeating itself in his mind.

(Name) certainly didn't expect to run into Kaveh when he returned to Sumeru. The young male couldn't say he was angry to run into the blond. His eyes quickly looked over the other. "You seem to be same as ever Kaveh. Why are you mopping around this time?" He asked with a smile. There were several comments about him being handsome and shining by those around them. He ignored everyone else and focused on the blond.

Kaveh's crimson eyes widened and he quickly rubbed them as if the person in front of him was an illusion. "You're finally back! Maybe now Alhaitham will finally get off my back a bit. You know since you left he's colder than ever. Not to mention the way you left him without a proper farewell had made his fuse so short. You really couldve parted in a better way. I heard he'd reject several thesis essays for minor errors the week you left." He quickly scolded forgetting about his previous stupor and worries.

The amurta scholar frowned and stepped closer. He pinched the others cheek slightly for talking poorly about his best friend. He always hated others speaking badly of Alhaitham even if the scribe could care less. "You need to stop being so hard on him. I swear your both like fire and ice sometimes. Yet both of you haven't convinced me you actually hate the other. You can't convince you both dont care. After all you both know too much about the others behaviors and moods. However since this past year has clearly been so hard on you how about I treat you to a meal at lambads? Then after I can walk you home and pay him a visit? I got him when i was leaving Mondstadt." He said patting his bag

Kaveh huffed at them a bit. "I keep telling you he's the worst but you never listen. You think that someone who has as much attention as Tighnari you'd find someone else to spend your time with. You know there are several people who requested me to give you their love letters. They all seemed to disappear before I could send them to you." He said rubbing his cheek. The two started walking to the tavern. Their conversations were pleasant and catching up on the past year. Several more passersby comments were made about the amurta scholar.

(Name) was used to hearing them and simply ignored them all. They've followed him since he was a child. They only bothered him when people would comment about Alhaitham. He remembered hearing several people making comments about him and (Name) got in a lot of arguments defending him constantly.

People would say that Alhaitham didnt care about him and that He didn't care and would continue doing it until his final breath. It's not his fault that people couldn't see the good traits of the tall scribe. He would argue with anyone who claimed that. They didn't know him and would just make assumptions about it.

During their outing at the tavern ended with Kaveh becoming intoxicated from the amount of drinks he had. Some wondered if they should contact Alhaitham to come collect him. (Name) reassured them he'd take the architect home amd there was no need to bother anyone else. He dragged Kaveh to the residence he lived in with the srcibe. "Kaveh please tell me you have your key." He said worried Alhaitham may have once again taken it by mistake.

Kaveh in his intoxicated state checked for his keys and realized he had them for once. He also reminded the other that he can't tell anyone of his living arrangements. He handed the amurta scholar his key not trusting his own coordination. (Name) was definitely surprised that the blond had remembered his keys. He unlocked the door and helped the older male inside. His eyes met with duel covered ones.

To most the eyes would seem uncaring as usual but there was definitely shock in them. He gave a smile to the scribe. "So you finally decide to come back and choose to dump a drunk Kaveh on me." The sliver haired male stated. The scribe had a bitterness in his tone. Which earned a laugh from the amurta scholar. "I plan on staying for a bit to catch up with you unless I'm no longer welcome here. If that's the case then I'll put kaveh in his room and leave." (Name) teased. He knew Alhaitham was upset with him but there was no hate in his tone.

Alhaitham admittedly got a little jealous watching the other carry Kaveh. The lighting in the house made him look perfect. The blond's arm around his neck and his arm around the other's waist. "Do as you wish. I know trying to convince you otherwise is pointless. After all you always do what you want. Just like all of those pointless fights you got into on my behalf. There is always the example of you leaving out of the blue despite promises we made." The silver haired male said looking up at the other holding his drunk roommate. There was definitely bitterness in his tone.

"Those fights were not pointless. They dared to slander you." He said. (Name) frowned he knew what the other had been talking about. When they were in their teen years he promised Alhaitham he'd always be by his side.

Alhaitham had graduated and their schedules grew hectic. They saw each other less and less especially while (Name) was working on getting through his studies. Alhaitham had made a comment about how maybe it'd be better if they stopped hanging out for a bit just like others had mentioned. Which seemed to upset the other who vowed that no matter what he'd stay by Alhaitham's side.

Even if it meant doing his assignments in the archive or next to him reading. He refused to give up on their friendship which admittedly warmed the scribes heart. There were a few occasions where the amurta student had fallen asleep when they were reading together due to pulling an all nighter to spend some more time with Alhaitham. (Name) promised he'd always be there for the scribe nothing would stop him.

He gave a sigh remembering the promise before taking Kaveh to his room so they could talk in private without Kaveh sulking over clients he's been dealing with. His guilt for his actions came up as they clearly effected his friend. He shook it off a bit then came back to the living room and noticed his long time friend had already marked his place in his book and closed it.

The silver haired male had his arms crossed seeing the other return. The look in his eyes was hard to read but if (Name) had to make a guess it would be anger and hurt. The room was silent and the mood was suffocating. The lights in the room suddenly became super interesting. Guilt building even more.

"Do you hate me for breaking our promise and leaving Sumeru?" He asked remaining standing. If the other said yes to his question he'd probably rush out knowing he messed up everything. He didn't want to sit anywhere near the other because he was understandably upset with him. "Without saying a proper farewell." The silver haired male added avoiding the question intentionally.

His duel colored eyes watching the other intensely as if waiting for something to happen. There was no sign of him going to respond to the other's question. Those multicolored eyes showing several emotions. Making guilt grow more. (Name) feared that his actions were mistakes.

"I couldn't say by to your face as I would've lost all will to go to Mondstadt. I thought of telling you in person but everytime I felt sick trying to think of the words to say. I needed to do it. I can't blame you if you now hate me or are upset with me. It's super hard for me to say no to you all it would take would be one word from you and my resolve would crumble in your hands. I know that doesn't excuse my actions and you deserve to have been........" as the amurta scholar started rambling he looked away from the other not able to keep eye contact anymore. His tone quiet and sad.

He skidishly made his way closer to the nearest wall. He leaned against it. He knew that he had no right feeling saddened bringing this up. If (Name) was being honest he may have avoided Alhaitham for a bit longer had he not ran into Kaveh. He looked at the entrance wondering if Alhaitham was going to be critical of his reasonings. He completely lost all the confidence he had when he brought Kaveh home.

Alhaitham stood up and walked over to the other. His body was reacting instinctually. He let it too. He felt as though his dear friend would run off the moment he said much. So just as his long time friend was about to continue his ramblings he caged the other between himself and the wall with arms to both sides of his head.

"Stop rambling and get to your point. What was so important exactly that you left for a year? Not only that but instead of telling me in person you choose to just leave a letter on my desk." He said pressing his body against the other's. His eyes met (eye colored) eyes. He was trying to get a read on the other's thoughts but the other was avoiding his stare. He placed one of his hands on the amurta scholars chin and forced him to look at him.

(Name) had no choice but to look into the duel colored eyed man. His heart was pounding in his chest he was worried at their proximity the scribe would feel it. "I wanted to look into something. It didn't have to be Mondstadt persay. Any other nation was fine. Mondstadt is just the one that was approved first so I went there. I was confused on a lot and needed to clear my head. I needed time to think things out. I sorted things out which is why I have returned." He answered still trying to look away to no avail. The scribe's hand keeping his face in place.

"You failed to take my feelings into account with all this. I would've been happy to aid you with what confused you. After all problems have multiple solutions. You never had a problem with me looking over things before or helping you talk through a problem before. Did you actually listen to what others said?" Alhaitham's voice started becoming quiet. His heart was heavy. His hand holding the other's chin fell to his side. He may needed to step away.

"Was leaving really necessary? It hurt that I meant so little that you couldn't tell me farewell in person. I found out after you already left that you were gone. Others had known about you leaving. You told Kaveh in person yet all I got was a letter only. Typically I take promises with a grain of salt. I thought your's meant something as youre not like everyone else." Alhaitham pressed looking at the other. He noticed their face had become red. He figured they must've drank a few drinks with Kaveh. The alchohol must've finally reacted in the amurta scholar's system.

Alhaitham's other arm dropped realizing this fact. He felt heart broken that (Name) couldn't have this conversation sober. His mind was racing with confusion and sadness. Maybe he should stop this conversation cause it seemed to hurt him more than the other leaving him.

He didn't wish to but pulled away. Here he was thinking irrationally again. Bothered about what others have said about their relationship. He was about to walk off but felt a hand around his wrist as if the other knew he was going walk off and not see him for awhile. His normally stoic expression changed for a moment. It revealed his frustration and anger about the situation at hand. "Let go of my wrist (Name). I dont want to talk anymore." He said. There wasnt enough will in him to pull his arm away forcefully.

"You were the one that was confusing me. Alhaitham it was never that you meant so little to me. You mean too much to me. If I saw you I wouldn't have been able to sorted things out and would've gave up on the entire thing. I've always been by your side and I wish to continue that. Which made it hard for me to figure out how or when my feelings towards you shifted from romantic. If it was a problem you could've solved I would've ran to you." (Name) admitted he held on to the other's wrist a bit tigher. As if letting go would cause the silver haired male to disappear from his sight. He was aware of his grip to not hurt the scribe's hand.

The guilt hit (Name) full force. His eyes started watering at the realization of what he did. However he refused to let go. He knew he should and everything he did was cruel and unfair to his dear akademiya genius.

The amurta scholar was super red and looking away trying to hide it along with his eyes. The room had become a suffocating silence again. The scribe looking at him with wide eyes. "How much did you end up drinking with Kaveh? It this some kind of joke you planned. After all you sound illogical. Leaving me to sort that out. What kind of answer did you come to? That you don't need to be by my side anymore? You get attention from everyone around no matter where you go. Why would I matter?" He said running his free hand through his hair.

Alhaitham was surprised his response made the other look at him finally. He saw the tears forming and got upset at himself. He shouldn't have lashed out like that. "I'm perfectly sober Alhaitham. I made sure I would be. I planned on bringing Kaveh home after I ran into him because it'd force me to come talk with you instead of being a coward and running away. After all confessing that I'm in love with you may make you hate me. Being away from you after years of seeing you all the time sucked." (Name) said.

He got a determined look before placing Alhaitham's hand he held hostage above his heart so the other could feel his heart racing. "Please answer my question. Did leaving make you hate me?" He pleaded refusing to feel sorry for himself as he was the one that did this and hurt his best friend. "I messed up and hurt you. If you do please tell me if I can make it up to you. Even if you don't return my feelings I don't want to lose you."

Alhaitham looked at him with wide eyes. He felt the racing heart beat his movements and speech were too clear for him to be drunk. "I do hate you for leaving me because I fell in love with you so many years ago. You make me think irrationally at times. However I can forgive you is you never do that to me again." He said before placing his free hand on the other's face. He gently wiped the tears away.

The amurta scholar tried pushing his hand away. "No I was the one who messed up and hurt you don't comfort me." He whined avoiding eye contact once again. "Then agree to be mine and never leave my side again and we can move past this. I need verbal confirmation." Alhaitham said pressing his forehead against the other's.

"I will always be yours. I'm sorry for everything this past year. I had got you something as well when I was in Mondstadt." (Name) stated. He opened his bag and brought out a neatly wrapped box. And a bottle of dandelion wine. Alhaitham took the items from his hands. He placed them on the table then leaned close kissing the other. "Stay the night." He said pulling away.

"It's so incredibly hard to say no to you." (Name) said pulling the scrib into a hug. The rest of the night went by as a blur. Alhaitham woke up the next day thinking it was a dream but felt something warm in his arms. He smiled faintly seeing his beloved (Name) asleep in his arms. He pulled them closer to his arms. There will be consequences if he tried another stunt he pulled a year ago.

#genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x male reader #genshin x male reader #taylor writes #tw alchohol mention #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact spoilers #genshin impact x reader #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham

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kiwicopia · 11 months ago

Note

Can I join the event plz

Honkai Star Rail male matchup plz

Gender: cis female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: heterosexual ally

Zodiac: Capricorn

Appearance: 5’2 African American hourglass body (although I’m more top heavy if you know what i mean) black curly wavy hair blackish brown eyes chubby cheeks wears glasses sometimes (im far sighted so it’s usually when driving in class or at the theater)

Mbti: infj

Enneagram: 2w1

Personality: kind smart funny motherly responsible empathetic anxious emotional moody perfectionist helpful people pleaser caring compassionate nerdy curious protective polite respectful indecisive fearful nervous introvert shy awkward clumsy low self esteem low confidence (more pertaining to my talents or personality then my looks) sassy sarcastic (I’m mainly these things with people i feel comfortable with like friends or family) soft spoken cute (my friends think im cute because i can be pretty innocent plus I’m small physically)

Likes: animals books reading writing fantasy magic sci fi anime music video games friends alone time learning personality quizzes sweets and bread helping being a part of something bigger than myself

Dislikes: spiders loud sounds people who harm others people who don’t take others into consideration (like make insensitive jokes or don’t consider the comfort of others or are mean just cause they can) people i care about not caring for themselves (im a hypocrite on this i take care of everyone else but not me) not being listened to weird holes and patterns math and tests (I’m being tested for a math disability and i have test anxiety)

Love language:

Giving: acts of service gift giving and physical affection (if they’re ok with it)

Receiving: words of affirmation and physical affection (although i can be shy about it)

What I want to do for valentines: i’ve only really started celebrating valentines in recent years so Im still kinda new to it so id probably just get my partner a cheesy/thoughtful gift (their favorite candy or cheese romantic keychains) and have a nice dinner smth small but romantic and dorky yknow

Extra: i pace a lot i sing when im alone i talk to myself im a picky eater (mainly with textures) i have a cat i have minor ehlers danalos (a hyper mobility disorder) but it doesn’t hurt me like it does my sisters i get abdominal migraines which is basically like a migraine but instead of headaches it’s nausea

Thank you

As a knight, acts of service are a guaranteed thing with him, as is physical touch. His chivalrous nature and poetic tongue make for a very romantic day, involving sweet words and gentle kisses to your hand whenever he can. Argenti may seem like he goes overboard with praising your beauty, but he speaks the truth. He will list each and every part of you that he adores, and he will give a detailed reasoning as to why, if you allow him. He's not the type of man to expect something grand on this special day, so whatever you give him is forever cherished, no matter if it's something you bought or made by hand. It came from you, and that's all he needs to know. Insists on dinner, and heavily insists that he takes care of everything. Lights candles, orders or makes the finest dinner for the two of you, and simply enjoys your company with him.

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail argenti #hsr argenti #argenti #argenti hsr #argenti honkai star rail #valentines day #matchups #kiwicopia matches

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bonthefuckjourx · 2 years ago

Text

It's exceptionally lonely being Professor Malfoy (Pt. 2)

Pairing: Professor!Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: One night you are club hopping with a few of your college friends and the next day you wake up in the Slytherin dorm rooms. Finally, being in the world of your dreams you decide to take your future into your own hands and befriend Draco Malfoy only to realize he isn't in your year. He isn't even a student.

Word Count: 3,200k+

Warning: 18+, minors dni, slight mention of depression

Universe: AU where it's been 10 years after Voldemort's death and some characters find themselves back at Hogwarts teaching. Reader gets transported into this Universe.

A/N: This story contains smut. If you don't like it, then don't read! I hope you guys love this second installment as I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I'm going to continue this series, but let me know if you have any requests! I might be able to fit it in with the narrative or write a whole other one shot.

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“Do you believe in fate?” I decided to start our long conversation with this open ended question. I couldn’t just outright say ‘Oh yeah by the way I’m actually from a completely different world, don’t know magic, I’m older than I seem, and I desperately want to be with you.’ He waited a second before answering.

“I’m not sure I do.” He stared at me waiting for me to elaborate. Excitement roared in me knowing I soon would be able to explain to him my life.

“By some twist of fate, I was taken here. I’m not from here at all. The first day of classes I just woke up in the Slytherin dorms.” He decided to cut me off before I could explain fully.

“Well most students aren’t from around Hogwarts either, so most of them have to arrive sooner like you did.” I stared at him hoping he wouldn’t be freaked out from what I was about to tell him. Subconsciously I moved in my seat and broke eye contact with him before speaking.

“You don’t understand, I’m not from this world.” I returned my eye contact to see him visibly confused.

“I’m not sure I understand. Are you sure you’re okay?” He began to reach out to take my hand, but I pulled my hand away.

“No you don’t understand, just let me explain-” He moved closer to me, his confusion quickly turning to concern. He probably thought I was losing my mind.

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head on anything? No one has hexed-” At this point tears began to well up and with the emotions running high I stood up trying to assert my answer.

“For fuck’s sake Draco I’m not from this world! I was taken here by someone. The last thing I remembered from my world was clubbing with my friends. The next thing I knew I woke up in the girl’s Slytherin dorm. Believe me I don’t understand it either, but I’ve been here for two weeks alone and unsure of what to do.” I yelled at him exasperated, not sure how to make him believe me.

“Okay, just sit back down. Calm down and explain this to me fully.” I noticed Draco mumble something under his breath about a silencing charm. Perhaps I was a bit too loud? With his gentle words hanging in the air I breathed a deep breath and sat down next to him once more.

“So you’re from a different world?” Here comes the interrogation.

“Yes, I thought I established that.”

“And you were somehow transported here against your will.”

“Transported yes, but I wouldn’t say it’s against my will. I’ve dreamed of this place for years, dreamed of the people here.” I blushed a little, knowing he was the person I’ve dreamt of. He simply kept his eyes on me, scanning me for what I didn’t know.

“What do you mean dreamed? How did you know of this world?” He shifted his weight in his seat forward as he leaned on his arms.

“Well, in my world Hogwarts and everything here is a book series. It follows Harry Potter, surprising right? Because the books did so well, they were turned into movies. That’s where I met you, kinda. I watched you grow up through them. It followed the events up until after Voldemorte was defeated.”

“Wait, I’m in another world too?”

“Yes, everyone here actually. In my world you are all actors. Your real name is Tom Felton. I’ve never met you in my world with being a celebrity and all. That’s why I’m so very content with being here. I just don’t know the first thing about magic.” He paused to ponder me for a moment, looking me over a few times.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“You could give me Veritaserum I suppose. I would do anything for you.” I shrugged my shoulders hoping he would consider my honesty.

“Good thing I know right where some are.” Within a second, he cast Accio and a tiny vial appeared in his hand. He pulled off the top and stood up over me tilting my chin up. I swallowed hard trying to control my thoughts but failed. What did it matter anyways? He knew Legilimency. Whether he was using or not I didn’t know.

“I wasn’t before, but I am now.” Draco mentioned with a smirk before pouring the cold liquid into my mouth. I swallowed the potion and stared at him with shocked eyes. I guessed that he might have been using it, but didn’t expect him to say it outright. Our position made me think about how close I was to his lower body. How easy it would be to show him how much he means to me.

“Don’t worry there’ll be more time to discuss those thoughts later.” I tried to hide behind my robes a bit, embarrassed that he was listening to my thoughts. The ones about him.

“Well let's just start with this, what’s my full name?” At this point he picked up his wand that was in its holster on his chest, fidgeting with it between his fingers.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy. I know more about you than I care to admit. You’re the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune with your parents being Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. You were sorted into Slytherin and tried to become friends with Harry Potter before he turned you down. You weren’t a great person at school and was forced to take the Dark Mark at only 16, or maybe 17 I’m not sure of that. I also know that you never killed Dumbledore and helped Harry during the battle with Voldemorte. I know you’re a better person than who you portray.” I could tell this moment was affecting Draco, most likely bringing up past memories. It was my turn this time to take his hand as I rubbed circles on it with my thumb.

“Do you seem to know quite a bit about me, but who are you?” That question hit me hard, I wasn’t sure I even knew.

“ (Y/n) Teresi. I’m 22 and in the other world I was in college. I loved to sing, dance, and read all the time. This world was my escape and I quickly fell in love with it. I would read about you. About us meeting and what it would be like to be loved by you. I don’t know how much of it is true, but I hope I will know someday.” I looked at him with love in my eyes, hoping he would give my words a chance. He was perplexed, but seemed to soak the information up.

“Here, I know I’m under Veritaserum, but I have more proof. Let me grab my bag.” I stood up to run quickly and grab my bag by the seat I had taken during class. When I turned around I could see him staring at me waiting for what I had to show him.

“In my world we heavily relied on technology and everyone had phones. That’s what this is.” I held out my hand with my phone in it. Before long he grabbed it from my hands, twisting it over in his hands examining it.

“How does it work?”

“Well it’s supposed to be charged with electricity, but I ran out of power. In the other world I would read on it, listen to music, or watch videos. If we can get it running again I have many songs downloaded from my world I could show you.” I smiled at the idea of being about to show Draco a bit of my world someday. He handed it back to me and I reached out with my right arm. My sleeve slid up a bit revealing more of my tattoos on that arm. He stared at the artwork on my skin until he posed a question.

“Would you be willing to show me your tattoos?” I blushed a bit embarrassed that quite a bit of them were inspired by this world and him.

“Sure, I’ll have to take my shirt off however they go all the way up my arm.” His eyes darkened at my sentence as he made the first move to push my vest off of me and unbutton my white long sleeved shirt. He gasped almost when it revealed all of the artwork underneath it. His fingers traced the lines as he looked at all of the references to his world.

“Slytherin, huh? You already knew?” He looked up at me with a smirk on his face.

“Yeah, I suppose I had a feeling, but I would be lying if I said you didn’t influence it.” He continued to wander down my arm and stopped at my hummingbird slightly confused.

“My patronus.” I explained. He kept going down, eventually turning my arm over. I winced as I saw him take in my dark mark. The one I put on my skin against my will. I hoped he wouldn’t take it too harshly.

“Why would you do this to yourself?” He looked up at me with conflicted emotions in his eyes.

“It was one of the last tattoos I had done. I had it done in solidarity with you. I empathize so much with who you are. I never had a choice in my life and I felt myself slowly going insane and becoming depressed. I didn’t want you to be alone.” I saw a single tear drip down his face and brushed my hand across his face to wipe it off. I kept my hand on his face and gazed into his bluish green eyes not wanting to look away.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered into the little distance between us. I dropped my arm and he grabbed it bringing my mark up to his mouth. He placed little kisses here and there all while staring into my soul. I bit my lip slightly focusing on his mouth on my skin.

“Don’t do that. Not unless you want me to throw you on my desk and take you right here.” My breath hitched at the idea and I hoped he would stay true to his word.

“What would you do if I said I’ve waited years hoping I’d hear you say those words, Professor Malfoy?” I bit my lip hoping he would at least continue to touch me. I needed him like a flame needed oxygen. He brought up something deep inside of me. It pulled me towards him, needing to know how his skin felt under mine.

“I barely even know you and I already know you are going to be the death of me.” With that he released his hold on my arm and picked me up. His hands grabbed my ass as I wrapped my legs around his waist with my arms around his neck. He held me like that for a second staring into my eyes.

“Ever since I met you all I have wanted to do is to kiss and touch every inch of your body, until you know you are mine. It makes more sense now that you might have been brought here for me. We belong together, even across realities…” His words stuck in my mind, I never wanted anything more. It only felt right in that moment to lean down and touch his lips to mine. I was slightly hesitant, nervous at first, but quickly he took over passionately deepening the kiss. With a groan he pulled away and gently set me on his desk before capturing his lips with mine once more.

As he kissed me he massaged my breasts through my bra then moving to lift my thigh bringing it up towards the side of his waist. I could feel his hardening member in between my thighs as he ruthlessly pressed his body against mine, almost trying to make up for lost time. I moaned as he ran his hand up my skirt feeling the wetness that was pooling at my warmth.

“You’re such a good student, already wet for your professor.” He spat after he broke our kissing. I could feel my face flush at his comment knowing he did all of this to me in a mere minute.

“Yes sir, only for you.” That must have set something off in him as he bit his lip and grabbed his wand that was laying beside me. Quickly he cast a Vanishing Spell effortlessly making my clothes disappear entirely. I let out a small gasp as I felt my clothes disappear and he stared down at me proud of his handiwork.

In no time Professor Malfoy was one top of me again grabbing my face with his hand as he kissed me deeply. He moved his attention down my neck leaving little bruises everywhere marking me his. His lips brushed my breast and made me arch in anticipation. He laughed lightly at this looking up at me as he cupped my breast in his hand. His tongue found my nipple licking and sucking while his other hand caressed my other breast. He slowly moved from one to the other making sure to leave a few bites and marks along the way. I could feel myself becoming increasingly wet and I ached for him. I began to tug at his shirt hoping he would understand.

“Please, I need to feel you.” I begged him to let me see and touch him as he had done to me.

“That will come with a price.” He huskily spoke standing up briefly to take off his tie. He slipped it off his neck and gestured for me to lift my head up. I felt the silk tie around my mouth as he secured it in the back.

“We wouldn’t want anyone to hear you and realize how much of a slut you are for your Professor, we would?” I shook my head as I watched him as he cast a vanishing spell over his own clothes and moaned slightly at the view. His toned body quickly found mine as I wasted no time running my hands up his chest and around his back. Draco found his way back to my warmth and began rubbing my clit as he watched my face for my reaction. As he kept rubbing I felt myself becoming undone below him as my muffled moans filled the room. Before long he moved his fingers down my wetness and slipped two in my vagina. I squirmed as he slowly pulled them out and in again searching for that blissful spot. He kissed my breasts again as he explored. I felt myself tightening on his fingers needing to feel that release. My breath began to become more shallow as he found just the right spot and added another finger.

“Not so soon, you will come with me.” He slid his fingers out and brought them to his mouth tasting me. He groaned at the messed up sight of me undone before him. His hands grabbed my thighs forcefully positioning himself in between them.

“Are you sure about this, about us?” He looked at me waiting for any kind of consent. In my head I said all the words I couldn’t and he looked at me with knowing eyes. Knowing that I wanted him just as bad as he wanted me. I would never be able to have enough of him.

“Fuck, (Y/n).” With that he slowly pushed his dick into my wetness hissing at the feeling. He leaned down over me slowly rubbing my clit as he made a long slow rhythm. I moaned in his ear as he pleasured me the way I always wanted. When I started to push back against him he started to pick up the rhythm groaning at how I felt wrapped around him. My legs found their way around his waist as he found that deep spot inside of me. When he found it, the pace at which he rubbed my clit picked up. I laid my head back against the cold desk and arched against it overcome with pleasure. I began to become tighter once more starting to reach that high. Only this time Draco was right there with me, moaning in my ear with his breathing becoming shallow. All at once he ripped the tie down from my mouth and roughly kissed me as we became closer. It became too much when he started to bite on my lip. I tried to warn him by scratching at his back, but he only quickened his thrusts moaning into our kiss.

“After I come in you beautiful, I never want you to leave.” He buried his face into my neck as I bit his shoulder coming around his pulsating shaft. His hot seed filled me up and he slowly thrusted a few more times coming down from his high. He pulled away from my neck, staying in me, and brushed the hair out of my eyes.

“You’re mine.” Draco kissed me one last time, savoring every moment with me.

“And I’m yours.” I breathed stunned that I am finally in his arms, as his.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

After we calmed down, Draco Accio’d some clothes for us and helped me dress.

“Here you can keep it.” I stared at his tie he held in his hands that had been around my mouth minutes prior. It looked similar enough to the Slytherin House ties, but it had a deeper green and more mature feel. I decided here and then that would be my tie of choice and accepted it from his hand.

“I’ll see more of you I hope, in tutoring lessons.”

“You’ll help me then. Teach me magic?” I practically jumped at the opportunity to be taught by him and I wasn’t able to contain my excitement.

“Of course, especially if our lessons end like this.” I blushed at the thought of more times with him and nothing else between us.

“Everyday after DADA Dueling. We can’t keep holding up my other classes, can we, beautiful?” He held my head in his hands and leaned down for one last kiss.

“Now go on to your next class, you're struggling enough as it is.” He smirked as he slapped my ass, gaining a gasp from me. Grinning, I made my way out of his classroom, locking eyes with him before I disappeared to my next class unsure of how I would ever focus.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Your team’s not going to win this time, Draco.” Harry spat at him jokingly just like the old days, ready to start a friendly game of Quidditch as they were in the locker room readying up.

“You wish.” Draco said to Harry his back facing him as he unbuttoned his dress shirt and slid it off.

“Damn Draco, didn’t know you had that much fun outside of school.” Immediately the blonde turned to his friend who broke out into laughter. He grabbed his glasses and wiped his eyes from laughing too hard.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Draco mentioned, confused about what made his friend die from laughter.

“Probably the fact that your back looks like it’s been scratched a thousand times mate. Who’s the freaky girl huh?” Draco turned to Ron, eyes widened at the fact that (Y/n) must have scratched his back a lot as he made her scream.

“Yeah, Draco, who's the lucky girl?” This time Harry patronized him, wiggling his eyebrows trying to embarrass his friend.

“My soulmate.”

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

@brezl Here you go!

#draco x reader #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x you #draco x you #professor malfoy #harry potter au #harry potter #ron weasley #slytherin #professor kink #soulmates #soulmate au

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matenrou-fan · 2 years ago

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OTOME TOHOTEN TIME YES YES YES YES YES YESSSSSSSS

hcs for otome falling in love with her fem assistant, a new me,ber of chuuo. nobody in the country knows they've got a thin g but otome is really loving to her and...theyre very passionate

maybe office sex hcs too...hehee

Otome falling in love with her fem! assistant (+ office sex hc)

I'm on my kneeeees 😩 she's a real goddess so I think I get carried away a little..

femreader, fluff, petnames, praising;; also teasing, fingering (receiving), oral (receiving+giving), semi-public sex, overstimulation, mention of vibrators and Master/pet relationships;;

NSFW UNDER THE CUTS

;MINORS DNI;

SFW:

-Honestly, when you just joined the "Party of Words", you feel both fear and awe of the Prime Minister.

-Her face is just always so calm and cold, it seems like nothing can ruin her stoic figure. But maybe that's why you decided to work in government now - cause she was a great leader, who's trust in logic, not passion..

-Well, but this is what you thought in the beginning, not knowing just how much romanticism this woman hides in herself.

-For some time she didn't pay you that much attention, treating you like all other women here - with respect yet nothing more. Only when you get a promotion and start to meet her more often during work does she look at you more closely.

-It even looks like Otome is the one who gets interested first. You have no idea why your leader makes you report about your work more than other subordinates, when she's actually just getting quite amused by your light nervousness.

-Maybe you get a hint much earlier if she would smile more, but her face was so still.. As she doesn't know for sure about her own feelings and doesn't want to get open too fast.

-You start realizing what's going on when you get more promotions and quickly turn into one of her closest members of the "Party of Words". Even as close as Ichijiku, cause now you're Otome's personal assistant.

-Yet you didn't get as much hard work as you thought you would get in such a post. Yes, it's starting to take more time to do all the paperwork and now you spend more time alone with the Prime Minister, but you feel more.. relaxed than drained?

-You didn't even notice how you got so close to her, not only in your status but in a psychological sense too. Otome loved to talk a little with her subordinates, knowing how to win someone's attention and trust.. And now she lures you close enough to herself.

-You do suspect something more in your relationship with all these 'accident' touches, more intimate talks in private.. She always asks you to stay longer due to a large amount of work but you don't really remember to actually work in these extra hours.

-And one day, as you bring another report and read it out loud for her, while Otome stands in front of the big window of her office, everything happened. She suddenly got closer, still with a calm face yet some tender undertone appeared in her emotions. You get kinda nervous as she almost comes so close, and keeps reading your papers with a little trembling tone.

But when her hand touches your hair, fixing locks, you gasp and finally look at her just to see her leaning closer and kissing you right in the lips.

"Mm.. You did a great job.." - she nods, enjoying your surprised blushing face. - "But I wanted you to stay for a while as we need to discuss everything.. in more details.."

-After this evening she's finally revealed her more soft and emotional side, as now Otome is sure that you're attached to her no less than she's to you.

-Who knows the cold soul of the Prime Minister can actually burn with such passion? As she's always get really affectionate, almost worshipful in private.

-Sharing some soft, tender kisses is the first thing that you do in your work now, before you get to work with tasks. Otome don't really like quick light kisses, preferring to keep you in her office for five-ten minutes more to let you taste the depth of her obsession over you.

-You're her weakness, as you are the only person for whom she would abuse her duties. Because having you sitting on her lap as she slowly runs her tongue along your lips and then slides it further, deepening the kiss, is much more pleasure than any other things can ever be..

-Despite your lover not liking quick kisses, she does love some light touches during work hours, especially if there is someone else in the room. Just a simple touch for your shoulder as she leaning closer to ask something.. For everyone around it looked absolutely casual, but just because they didn't see her tempestuous eyes, full of adoration.

-Would almost worship the ground you walk on. Not because she's so desperate, but one of her love languages is words of affirmation. It doesn't matter if you're really shy or bold or something in between, she always will praise you. Otome didn't see anything embarrassing about this - you're her lover, so it's only natural for her to show you this in any way she can.

-"Bunny, you're much more energetic today than usual.. Has something happened?" - she smiled, noticing any small changes in your behavior or appearance. - "You just happy to see me? Oh, what a smooth talker you can be.."

-Of course pet names. Any cute pet names, you name it. She just loves to shower you with sweet little talks between kisses, holding you to herself in a tight hug. There's so much passion in Otome's heart that it's almost overwhelming, getting so much touches, praises and affection every day.

-Especially when you both stay alone..

NSFW:

-Ok but it's actually happened more often than you thought.

-Otome just love to take you on her lap at the end of the day, while most of the other workers left the building and it's so calm and empty.

-Her hand is always on your thighs as she's reading some of the reports, fingers tapping on black fabric of uniform. And then she suddenly gets more playful, as her hand gets lower, tickling your inner thighs.

-And yes she would still read her papers like nothing happened, maybe even make small talk with you.

-This woman just loves to tease you sometimes, as she's great at hiding her emotions. Well, maybe just sometimes you can notice how the corners of her lips lifted a little as she enjoyed your little whimpers and mewls.

-"Is something wrong, my dear? You get uncomfortable?" - her calm voice behind your back sends shivers down your spine. As she notices how much you start squirming around, her tone gets more playful. - "You always can tell me if there is something you want or need.."

-So yeah, this is neither first nor last time as she just gets under your panties and plays with you right here, in the office.

-And you have a really hard time controlling your voice, whining more and more under her touch as she knows all your sensitive spots by heart, maybe even better than the rules of her own party.

-The way she gets more passionate, murmuring in your ear sweet nothings and worshiping you like that just makes everything worse. And when she whispers about getting in her room, describing in detail what she would do with you here? All you can do is just squeeze your thighs as your mind melts, imagining all these things.

-For some reason she just loves to see you cumming on her fingers, grasping her other hand so desperately and calling her name in a trembling whisper.

-Also loves to keep you under her desk, as it helps to pass the time while she's working with paperwork.

-And yes, she wouldn't mind if some of her other subservient would walk in the office at this time, as Otome can keep the most straight calm face while you're pressing your face in her folds, licking her cunt so hungrily.

-"You're just such a passionate girl.." - she cooed as soon as the other worker walked away, patting your head. - "Keep being like that and I will reward you with something more today.."

-Oh yes, you would be a good girl, clean and lick everything after her, right? You both don't want to get things too messy, aren't you?

-And if things get really heated up she wouldn't mind getting down to you too, pinning you right to her table. Of course she would lock the door before that, as this beautiful view of your naked skin as you slowly lift your skirt, revealing your wet panties, is just for her to enjoy..

-Sometimes she likes to put you on her chair, also getting under desk as you did before. The view of the Prime Minister herself sitting between your thighs like that, kissing your clit with such passion.. Sometimes you think it would be enough for you to pass out.

-She's actually really gentle and soft in oral, always preparing you very well before she starts speeding up, pushing her tongue more intensely.

-"You're really enjoying yourself, aren't you?" - her voice gets so much softer and loving, so it sounds more like a real question than a tease. And of course you nod, whimpering under your breath for more. - "Of course, my buttercup.. Just let me take care of you.."

-It's like a little game: just how many times she would be able to make you cum on her tongue before you turn into a completely trembling whining mess.

-Spoiler: Not that much cause as soon as she gets really into it, slurping on your folds with such passion and sucking hard your clit you're already minimally conscious, mewling her name again and again as the burning pulsation in your core gets more wild.

-"You look absolutely stunning while drowning in pleasure, butterfly" - of course she was watching your beautiful face all the time, enjoying it no less than you. - "You just make me want to start a round three.. or four?"

-I'm sure she likes something like a Master/Pet relationship but as Otome is quite dominating, but in a light way, not something too extreme. She values you and sees you as a worthy person that is equal to her, after all..

-Also, about teasing: she would play with you a little during the day just to amuse herself with your blushing face, but nothing more, like making you walk around with a working vibrator or something. She prefers to leave these things to more private places like her room where she can pay more attention to you.

#hypmic x reader #hypmic imagines #hypmic #hypnosis mic #otome tohoten #party of words #otome tohoten x reader #party of words x reader

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hyunsuloves · 6 months ago

Text

find your way back to me. (prologue)

synopsis … losing contact with your best friend that now lives hundreds of miles away has to be the worst thing that has ever happened to you.

pairing … lee eun-yu x fem!reader

warnings … none expect eun-yu because sorta kinda really out of character

lovely notes … a series started whoop whoop we celebrate at midnight. also, might change the same of this cause it’s kinda corny

꩜ [ 1.2k words ]

you and eun-yu first met in your first year of high school. none of your friends ended up going to the same high school as you, so you were all alone. you weren’t necessarily timid, but you weren’t outgoing enough to put yourself out there. eun-yu was the one who approached you first. you were sitting at the very back of your first class when she decided to sit directly next to you. neither of you said anything, but it was nice to have that kind of company in a new environment.

you didn’t exactly know why she chose to sit next to you. maybe she just wanted to be friendly, or maybe she thought you looked approachable. regardless, you were glad to have someone to sit with, at the very least.

during the first few months of school, both of you engaged in small talk in class and between classes. she'd crack a joke or two that made you laugh louder than you intended, and you’d make small doodles on her paper when she wasn’t looking.

you were somewhat well-acquainted, although you didn’t speak outside of school. the in-school friendship was enough to make you actually want to come to class and do your work.

as time passed, the two of you became actual friends, not just casual acquaintances. you walked to classes together, sat by each other in more than just your first class, and sat together at lunch, doing everything bored friends do at school. you even got in trouble together from time to time for something as minor as talking too loud in class or not paying attention to your teacher.

you enjoyed spending time with eun-yu, and it seemed reasonable to assume she enjoyed being around you too. you spent most of the day together, so it would be concerning if she didn’t like your company.

toward the end of your first year, you and eun-yu began spending time together outside of school. you'd go to the movies to see whatever was newly released, though you mostly spent the time chatting and laughing because the movies were never very fascinating. you'd also go to the park to spend hours on the swings.

you had other friends, as did eun-yu, but they weren’t as fun as she was. you didn’t enjoy hanging out with them nearly as much as you did with eun-yu.

then, in february, eun-yu gifted you a heart-shaped box of chocolates and glittery lip gloss. it was an odd gift, but you had been talking about wanting it for so long because of how pretty it looked. you hadn’t bought it yourself because you decided you had better things to spend your money on. in return, you gave her red heart-shaped lollipops and a silver heart-shaped necklace. everything exchanged between you two was heart-shaped “in the name of love,” your words.

after that valentine's day, you and eun-yu became even closer. not necessarily as friends, but in a general sense. you spent more time in each other’s presence, though your relationship remained normal. nothing much changed between you, except for the increased closeness.

at the start of your second year, you and eun-yu became inseparable. you sat next to each other in every class you had together, still walked to classes together, and continued to sit together at lunch. outside of school, you still hung out almost weekly. it got to the point where your mother expected her to come over and got concerned when she didn’t. your mother was so used to eun-yu's presence, as was everyone else around you.

everyone grew accustomed to seeing you together. if one of you wasn’t present, someone would inevitably ask, “where's the other one?” you spent every waking moment together, never questioning your friendship, or rather, your feelings for her.

it felt strange to over-explain yourself, but everyone hears stories about people who fall in love with their best friends and can do nothing but watch them from afar. you didn’t want to end up like that, so you had to think about your feelings for her, romantically.

your relationship with eun-yu continued to blossom as time went on. the two of you remained inseparable despite the usual bumps in the road of friendship. you were grateful to have met her in your first year of high school because she was literally everything to you.

but as fate would have it, something had to go wrong. problems arose when your mother told you that you would be moving after your second year because she had a new job opportunity elsewhere. with only half of your second year remaining, you knew the end was approaching rapidly. naturally, you were devastated to leave almost all your family, but most of all, you were heartbroken about leaving your best friend of almost three years.

three years may not be the longest time, but she was still your closest friend. you didn’t know how she would react when you told her the news, but you had to inform her. leaving without a word would be inconsiderate.

you feared she’d be angry, or worse, hate you. However, when you told her, she maintained a calm demeanor. it was clear she was upset, but if it deeply troubled her, she didn’t show it. so, you made the best of the time you had left together.

as your second year ended, you and your mother packed everything necessary. before you could leave, you had to say goodbye to eun-yu. you knew you wouldn’t have much if any, time left with her now that you were about to move.

as you approached her apartment, you were relieved to see her already sitting on the front steps. she noticed you before you could fully approach her, and you could tell she was excited to see you. you hadn’t been able to hang out much recently due to the packing and preparations.

not wanting to waste any time, you ran up and gave her the most bone-crushing hug you could muster. this would be your last hug with your best friend, and you wanted to imprint it in your memory. you wanted to remember every detail about her. your biggest fear was losing her forever.

before parting ways, you told her how much you loved her. you weren’t sure if she understood the depth of your love, but she reciprocated it, and that was all the reassurance you needed. you promised to keep in touch while you were away and to never forget each other. you promised.

then, you moved. it felt like you were across the country. you'd never felt so far from home, and it was overwhelming. you wanted your house back, your school back, your friends back, and above all, your eun-yu back. you wanted your best friend more than anything. it's not like you didn’t keep in touch, but it wasn’t the same as seeing her in person. hugging her, talking to her, being with her in person—nothing could compare.

but, once again, fate was not on your side. you and eun-yu stopped texting and calling as often as you once did. both of you became so busy with your own lives that you either forgot or didn’t have time to talk as you used to. and as quickly as you became friends, she became a distant memory in the back of your mind.

#(౨ৎ) — fics .#lee eunyu #lee eunyu x reader #lee eunyu fluff #lee eunyu angst #lee eunyu imagine #lee eunyu scenario #sweet home #sweet home x reader #sweet home fluff #sweet home angst #sweet home imagine #sweet home scenario #sweet home netflix #sweet home season 3 #sweet home 3 #x reader #x reader insert #female reader

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shakespearianne · 2 years ago

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Hi sorry if you're not taking requests you can just ignore this but if you are can you please do a eddie x reader fic where after the events in the upside down they become roommates and get really close but the reader won't ever tell him their feelings and one night she hears him being very loud and kinds rough with a random girl and then it keeps happening almost every night he has a different girl but she notices they kinda resemble the reader in different ways then one night eddie goes into the readers room drunk and confesses that he likes them and pretends those girls are the reader everytime he hooks up with them

hey there! this is actually my first request ever and i LOVED it so i wrote something based on what you gave me! i hope you'll enjoy it, please don't forget to like/reblog/tell me what you thought about it or even send me another request! ♡

tags: mutual pining, mention of rough sex (it's only heard, never seen or experienced by reader but still +18 minors dni), fem!reader, dom!eddie, thanks god for robin & steve, idiots in love, angst but it ends in fluff

word count: 6.6k (ehehe)

If someone had told you a year ago that you would be sharing a flat with Eddie « the freak” Munson from Hawkins High, you would have called them crazy, burst into laughter and probably asked them if they were high or something.

And yet, here you are, living in Indianapolis, studying English Literature at University (because what other degree would interest a Shakespeare nerd like yourself?) and having Eddie for a roommate. Of course, you are now much closer to Eddie than you were last year, when all you were sharing was a common distaste for chemistry. That happens when you found yourself trapped in another dimension and manage to save the world together. The events in the Upside Down had created a particular bond between you two, one that you couldn’t explain differently than by saying “He’s just not what I thought he was” when your high school friends had asked why you had picked him as a roommate. And it’s not like you could ask anyone else, Nancy has left for Emerson, Robin and Steve were still in Hawkins and you couldn’t afford to be living on your own. Eddie, finally graduating from high school, wanted to give his music career a decent shot and that meant moving to a bigger city. It was an obvious and sensible choice.

And it has nothing to do with the fact that you have the biggest crush on him. It’s ridiculous, really, and such a cliché. Robin finds the whole thing hilarious and every time you call her to talk about life, she only asks if you told him yet. And the answer is always the same: I can’t. He doesn’t like me. Not like that. It’s pointless. It’ll pass. But it doesn’t pass. And as you begin your sixth month of living together, you feel like you’re losing your goddamn mind. Because, if anything, it’s getting worse. It’s not Eddie’s fault, it’s not like he encourages it or something but he’s just so… Eddie. He always asks you how’s your day, if you had any interesting lectures or anything that made you smile. He often comes to the small café where you work three times a week and always leave a much bigger tip than needed – but you repay him by using this money to buy him his favorite brand of cereals. He borrows records from the shop where he’s a seller and he brings them home to make you discover new music, when he's not making new listen to his own art. That might be your favorite part of living with Eddie, this intimate sharing of what makes him truly happy. And also the fact that the boy seems to hate shirts because you’ve seen his naked torso so many times it’s actually painful. But, hey, it gives you great imagery when you’re alone in your bed, one hand slipped under your panties while the other caress your body, looking for some kind of release, that nobody at university can provide.

You tried. You really, really tried. But after the third failed talking stage, you just gave up. You don’t blame the guys. They’re sweet, funny, intelligent but they’re just not Eddie Munson. They don’t make you laugh so hard that you fear you might piss yourself. They don’t insist on buying quality coffee, even if it’s more expensive that the off-brand one, just because they know that you always start your day with a cup of coffee (black, no sugar, no milk, and just enough to make anybody go into cardiac arrest) and that you really enjoy good coffee. They don’t have the dimples, the always untamed hair, the soft smile or the deep chestnut eyes. Maybe the reason you like coffee so much is that its color reminds you of Eddie when he looks at you a certain way, never in broad daylight but always carefully hidden in the winding of an evening with friends, with a joint on his lips and an indecipherable glimmer to his look. Sometimes, you like to pretend that it’s desire that lays behind those thick lashes. But you know better than to entertain these fantasies, especially since you don’t plan to act upon them.

If your nights are mostly spent alone in the confines of your bedroom, Eddie, however, likes to indulge in other nocturnal activities. You’re not angry, truly. He is handsome and he, more than anyone you know, deserves to feel good. You know he also left Hawkins because he was always going to be the freak, the cult leader, the everlasting suspect of a series of gruesome murders. Here, he can be Eddie. He can charm girls at a party or while selling records to them. He is unstained. He can bring a girl home and make her feel good without wondering if she is in his bed because she has a weird fascination for potential killers. (He once met a girl like this, just after graduation. He doesn’t like to talk about it.) And you know that making a girl feel good is something that he is quite capable of. You’ve heard the moans, even muffled and reserved. You’ve even seen a handful of them, crossing paths as they leave the flat while you’re on your way to the bathroom. They retire with a sense of appeasement on their faces who leaves you musing. What does your lovely roommate do to these girls, so that they always cum? You’ve been with enough guys yourself to know that an orgasm in not always in the cards when having sex. You don’t mind, sex is no competition for you, there is no goal to achieve. But still, it would ne nice to experiment the same amount of euphoria than these girls when you hear them cry his name at night. You wonder how those five letters would sound in your mouth and sometimes, when you lay awake in your bed, your gaze fixed upon the ceiling, you murmur it, just to try.

Eddie.

And the whisper is enough to make you clench your eyes, wishing that he would say yours back.

It’s during a night like this that everything starts to shift. You’re in your bed, reading Much Ado About Nothing. Again. You can’t help it. It’s your favorite comedy by Shakespeare (tragedy is Romeo and Juliet because you always had a weird crush on Mercutio and if you have to pick an history play, you always say Henry VI. You just really love the Wars of the Roses). You sometimes wish you were more like Beatrice, witty and daring. But you feel like life has turned you into a Hero, patiently waiting for someone or something to fix things for you. And you don’t enjoy it very much. You’re at the beginning of Act IV, where Beatrice asks Benedick to kill his cousin Claudio to avenge Hero’s honor and you’re mouthing the words as you’re reading, having learned them from reading it over and over. You’re about to recite to yourself ‘O, that I were a man!’ when you hear the distinct chime of the keys turning into the lock of the front door. It’s Eddie and he’s not alone.

« Now be a good girl and follow me. »

His voice is deeper at night, or perhaps it’s his tone that’s different. There’s something natural about his commanding inflection and without realizing it, you’re putting the book on your nightstand, eagerly waiting for what comes next. There’s a feeling that resembles a bit too much shame to your liking but you decide to ignore it. There’s no harm in listening, you decide. So you listen. There’s only a single wall between yours and Eddie’s bedroom so everything is pretty clear for you. You recognize the sound of clothes being pull out, the unmistakable creak of a body on a bed, followed by another. Your pulse beats faster as a chant of sloppy noises echoes on the other side and you grasp your sheets, wishing that you had agreed to that second date with Sean Burr when he had offered to see you again, two days ago. You miss physical contact, especially at this instant and your fingers are wonderful, but sometimes it’s just not enough.

« Get on your knees and suck my dick, you dirty slut. »

Eddie’s roar pulls out from your thoughts and you gasp at the ruthless order. He’s never been like this before. Usually, you don’t hear much from him when he comes back accompanied. The girls are more vocals than he is. But you can’t complain at this sudden change, because when he talks gain, you feel a very familiar pool of heat forming in your lower belly.

« You like being treated like a whore, don’t you? »

It’s as if he was talking to you and his inflection leaves no doubt that he is not asking, he is acknowledging. You suddenly wish you were on the other side of the wall, kneeling before him, your mouth wide open for his length. You haven’t seen him naked but those tight black jeans leave little room for imagination. You don’t think Eddie Munson has anything to be ashamed of. And you’ve seen those fingers at work multiple times on his guitar. That man has a gift and there is no doubt he’ll put it to good use tonight.

« M’ gonna show you who’s in charge here. »

The girl whimpers something back but you can’t quite distinguish what she says and to be honest, you don’t really care. Your only point of focus is Eddie, his erratic breaths, his groans and you bit your cheeks, desperately fighting the urge to touch yourself. You won’t. You can’t. This is a line that you refuse to cross, even if the need for friction becomes almost painful. You try to calm yourself, to focus on your breathing but you hear a slam and you know that Eddie’s hand must have left a red imprint on that girl’s ass. You wonder if he kept his rings on and you decide that if it were you, you’d beg him to never take them off, even if it means he’ll have to finger you with it. You’re sure it’ll only add up to the experience.

« Eddie. » The girl whines but she’s quickly muffled

« Did I say you could speak? » He sounds practically dangerous and another slap follows, « No, I didn’t. So keep that mouth shut and those legs wide open. »

He must be fucking her from behind, you realize and you wince. It’s one of your favorite positions but no partners of yours has ever made you feel truly good while doing it. It’s always awkward, the boy not knowing exactly what’s expected of him, unsure thrusts and messy hands. But Eddie would be different. Eddie would know what you want. Eddie would wrap one of his hands - rings on - around your neck and gently press the side of it while pounding into you. You hate yourself for visualizing so quickly but you can’t help it. You’ve got history with your Eddie Munson fantasies. Might even write your thesis on all of the ways you wish he would fuck you.

But that’s not you who’s getting fucked tonight and the ever-pressing moans and begs that escape that lucky girl’s mouth are a reminder that you are alone in your bed. And now you wish it all ends quickly, for you’re not sure you can’t bear it much longer. God - or is it Eddie? - seems to hear your prayers as a mantra of fuck and shit along with a fair share of moans rings through the flat. They are so loud, especially Eddie and a litany of curses leave his mouth as he reaches his apex. You’ve never been so aroused by anything in your life and you can’t do anything about it. So you pull out your tape player, glue the headphones to your ears and you press play. The soothing voice of Janis Joplin fills your head and you try to focus on her lyrics rather than on the fire between your legs. Eddie often mocks you for listening to such old tunes but you can’t help it, there is something in this anthem that just speaks to you.

I want you to come on, come on, come on, come on and take it

Take another little piece of my heart now, baby

You don’t need to ponder too much to know what it is.

The next morning is awkward for you. You don’t like to leave your room before you’re sure that the girl of the night is gone but you also need to pop over to the university library before your first class to borrow a few books. You take a quick trip to the bathroom first because if you’re going to see that girl who got the time of her life last night while you were laying hot and bothered in your bed, you might as well look your best. You don’t consider yourself to be particularly pretty but still, you like to feel good about your appearance. You feel almost territory when you enter the small kitchen. It’s your home and it’s your Eddie. No one if there and you’re grateful for it, preparing your usual morning cup of coffee. You even find yourself softly humming as you pick your favorite mug, a gift from Uncle Wayne when you moved in. It’s white and embellished with bats, a nod to Eddie’s infamous tattoo. Of course, good ole Uncle Wayne ignores that it made Eddie and you die of laughter, realizing the inadvertent reference to a somewhat traumatic souvenir in the Upside Down. You smile at the tender memory, pouring the black liquid into the beloved vessel and you’re unaware that suddenly, you’re not alone anymore.

« Hello? »

Her greeting is almost a challenge and when you turn around to face her, you practically drop your cup. She is pretty, you won’t deny it, taller and leaner than you will ever be but there is something about her face that leaves you confounded. She’s got your eyes. Well, not exactly the same. Yours are slightly different, the color perhaps more intense and the shape kind of sharper. But there is something strikingly common between your stares, and you feel a knot forming in your stomach. At nighttime, in the fever of the act, you wonder if Eddie felt like it was you who were staring at him.

« Oh, hm, hi ? » You try your best to be polite but you refuse to be overly affectionate with this unknown person that you will never see again. You sip on your coffee and she seems to be waiting for a conversation that is definitively not going to happen.

« I’m Tracy. » She tries again and this time, you feel obliged to answer.

« Y/N. » You press your lips into a semblance of a smile. « I live here. »

You don’t know why you felt the need to precise it. Perhaps it’s because you want her to know that she’ll be gone soon and that you’ll keep on living with Eddie. That you know him better than she ever will and that you have access to part of his soul that she can only dream of. It’s kinda petty but you don’t care. You can’t always be noble.

« Tracy? »

You’d recognize Eddie’s morning voice anywhere and your sudden boldness disappear as soon as his messy mane enters the kitchen. You realize you can’t do it, not after what happened last night. There’s an ache in your heart that his presence will only enhance and as soon as you lock eyes with him, you do the one thing you’re really good at. You act as if nothing’s wrong and you get the fuck away from this.

« Gotta go. »

Your voice may be cold but you feel as if your lungs are on fire. You don’t even wash the cup and Eddie will know that you’re not okay because you’re the one who always insists on at least putting it in the sink. You brush against him while leaving the room - and you hate that he has no shirt on and that you can see the red marks that her fingernails must have left - and pick up your bag from your room before making your way towards the door. You’re frivolous enough for a last jab before leaving.

« Bye Tracy! »

You spend the day trying not to think about Eddie. You go out of your way to come back to the flat as late as possible. You stay at university until the security guard has to push you out of the building and you even think about walking home to gain more time without Eddie. But it’s stupid and you know it. So you take your car and drive anxiously, wishing that time would stretch out. Coming home is usually your favorite part of the day. It’s when you get to see Eddie again and you share everything that happened to both of you today, even if it’s of little importance. Sometimes you cook and he puts a record and you dance together in the kitchen, and it’s simple and it’s what home feels like to you. You realize it as you park near your apartment. There is something domestic about living with Eddie and somehow it had been shattered by the events of last night. Your heart breaks at the thought of it and it takes you all of the strength that you have to not cry in your car.

You’re relieved to find the flat empty and you go straight to your room, once stopping by the kitchen to found out Eddie has already washed the mug you left this morning. Fuck him (you wish). You’re not hungry and the only find you want to do is sleep and hope that tomorrow will be less painful. But it’s not. Eddie brings another girl back that night and you can’t help but found yourself wary at this incongruity. Eddie never do one girl after another. That’s just not him. But you never deemed him to be mean during sex so you guess you don’t really know anything about him after all. And he is mean, again. Rough, even. You pinpoint the sounds of pain that lead to pleasure, as he only speaks in orders. This time you don’t lend an ear to the whole spectacle. You need sleep. Your finals are dangerously close and you won’t let Eddie Munson distract you. So you smoke a cigarette to calm your nerves and you put Janis on.

The next morning, you wake up even earlier; It’s a change of strategy: perhaps if you wake up before them, you won’t have to face Eddie and what’s her name. But the plan fails and you grind your teeth when the kitchen is once again invade by an unknown girl while you sip your coffee in peace and quiet.

« Oh, sorry! » she stutters « I didn’t know Eddie had a sister. »

« Roommate, actually. »

Your smile is everything but sincere and the girl in front of you starts twirling her hair, probably caught off balance at your snarky answer. Your brows furrow at the sight and you gawk when you suddenly become aware that this girl, whom Eddie fucked last night, has your hair. If you were to look at her attentively, studying her as if she were some sort of insect and you a scientific, you may come to find a few differences. The length differs and you want to believe that yours seem to be in better shape. But it’s not your locks Eddie was grasping last night and it’s just another poke at your ego. You’re not good enough. This time, you don’t even wait for Eddie to come out of his bedroom and you barely acknowledge the girl as you leave the flat, knowing that you will come back as late as you can.

He’s there when you finally push the front door, hours later, exhausted. You know it because you hear the sound of his acoustic guitar, gently humming a melody that you have yet to hear before. It’s probably one of the multiple tracks Eddie is working on. The boy is incapable of focusing on one thing and you know that once he will begin to feel satisfied by this song, he will have to write another one. You can already see him, filling the pages of his notebook with new chords and new words.

« You’re home. »

You dart when Eddie’s voice pulls you out of your reverie. You hadn’t realize that the music had stopped and now you’re standing in the corridor and he’s looking at you from his bedroom, door wide open. He’s sitting on the floor, hair attached into a ponytail but a few wild strands frame his face, the ebony curls making him look like a Renaissance painting. His stare is fixed upon you, indescribable and the intensity of it uneases you.

« Yep. » You nervously start to chew on your lower lip, a very old habit of yours, « It’s been a long day. »

« You should rest then. » You want to scream at his solicitude. He has no right, being so gentle with you, as if you were some delicate vase that could break at any moment. Especially not when he is so rough with those other girls.

« I really should. » You really shouldn’t think about Eddie fucking, not when you can almost smell the faint scent of sex that exudes from his bed. Or maybe you’re just imagining it because you’re that desperate.

« Sleep well, sweetheart. »

Your answer is barely a sigh and you turn to leave when Eddie calls again.

« Y/N? » You instantly switch to face him and his eyes are now glossy with an emotion that almost scares you with its magnitude.

« We’re good, right? » He suddenly looks so young and you feel so very old and tired. You just want to crawl into his arms and make the pain disappear. But you simply say, « Of course, we’re good, Eddie. Why would we be anything else? »

It’s more a question to yourself and you have no answer to provide when you go to sleep.

The next few days pass in a hurry. You’re almost relieved that you have so little time between finals and your shifts at the café that you barely see Eddie at all. However, you don’t know why but you always meet the girls he brings home. You don’t mean to, but it’s like they can sense when you’re awake and they go to you, like a moth to a flamme. Except you’re the one burning here. You hear them as well. It’s almost like he doesn’t care that you’re a few feet away, completely capable of getting what he does to them, how he fucks them with vigor. You envy them. They leave his bedroom with disheveled hair, sore muscles and a smile that reveals how much they must have enjoyed it. And every time you look at one of them, which is not every morning but more often than you wish, you can’t help but grasp a likeness between you and them. It’s never the same thing, but there’s always something. Sometimes it’s in the sketch of the nose, or the way that she barely parts her lips when she smiles. One, you would swear she has the same voice as you and another, it’s something about her hands that makes you gaze a little bit too much.

You feel as if you’re slowly losing the little sanity you had left after escaping Vecna and you turn to the only person you can safely share your concerns with. Robin.

« So, what you’re telling me is that Eddie has been bringing a different girl back to the flat every two nights for the past two weeks and that, somehow, they all look a little bit like you? »

« I know, » you sigh, massaging your temples as you fathom the cast of disbelief on your best friend’s face, « I know it sounds crazy but I don’t know Robin… there’s something about those girls, it’s like they all have a little bit of me in them. »

« It doesn’t sound crazy considering that Munson has a crush on you since you crushed the skull of a demobat with your combat boots. I thought he was going to propose on the spot. »

« What the fuck are you talking about? » You hiss into the receiver of your rotary telephone but Robin doesn’t listen and she keeps talking - like she usually do when she has something she wants to say

« It’s glaring, Y/N! If Eddie is fucking all of those different girls that somehow, in the grand mystic scheme of the universe, seem to look a little bit like you, it’s because he wants to fuck you! Now, I don’t know why the man can’t grow some balls and actually fuck you - because, let’s be honest, we both know you wouldn’t be opposed to the idea - but you have to do something about it! Do you want to be fucked by Eddie Munson or not? »

« Robin, I know that you are at work, could you please not scream the words Eddie Munson and fucking?! » You shot an apprehensive glare at your bedroom door. Eddie is not home, but he should be finishing work soon and the last thing you want is for him to overhear this conversation.

« Why? It’s not like he’s going to hear me! He’s not in Hawkins, for fuck’s sake, he is in Indianapolis, with you. You should be the one screaming that you want him to fuck you, I’m sure he’d be more than pleased to hear it! »

You hang up shortly after that, Robin spending the rest of the call trying to convince you to make your feelings known and you rebuffing the idea. Perhaps she’s right, perhaps Eddie is trying to find some bits of you in those girls but the fear of losing him because you misinterpreted what just happens to be a coincidence is greater than your need for closure. You’re glad you haven’t mentioned the roughness of his intercourses. It’s one thing to admit other the phone that yes, you do indeed want your roommate to fuck you, it’s another one to confess that you want him to fuck you until you can’t walk.

Two days later, your finals are finally behind you and you’re grateful for it. It’s Saturday night, which means that Eddie will probably be having a drink with his colleagues from the record store and you can spend the evening alone, watching a movie on the worn-out sofa that Eddie had found in your street, just a week after you moved in. He called it fate, you called it a sanitary hazard but he insisted that you needed one and that cleaning it would still be less expensive than buying one. So you had agreed because when could you say no to him?

So here you are, alone, David Bowie’s blinding smirk on your TV screen as you watch Labyrinth - the cassette was a gift from Steve for Christmas, Robin probably telling him about your preference for eccentric long-haired boys. You try not to think too much about Eddie, where he is, who he is talking to. You force yourself to ignore the persisting speculation that keeps on telling you that you will find out soon enough, when he brings another girl home. You got a beer in your hand, something that’s very peculiar of you. You never drink alone, a promise you made to yourself years ago to never become like your father, but those past days have been torturous and you just feel like unwinding tonight. So you sip the alcohol, enjoy your movie and revel in the peaceful atmosphere that you have created for yourself.

Peace doesn’t last. It dies when the front door suddenly slams open and the oh so easily identifiable drunken voice of Eddie Munson reverberates in your flat.

« Y/N Y/L/N! »

You barely have the time to register what is going on that he is already in the living room, leaning on the doorframe, definitively plastered.

« Eddie Munson? » the dainty intoxication of the beer you’ve just finished is making you bold and you raise an eyebrow to him « You’re home early, and alone. What happened? Thought you had more game than that. »

« Do no mock me, princess, » Eddie grunts, clumping to you until he almost collapses on the couch, his head resting on your lap. You quiver at the sudden intimacy. It’s not like he’s never done it before, he does it all the time when you’re watching a movie together. It usually ends with your fingers playing with his hair. It soothes him, or so he claims. « I missed you.»

« I missed you too, Eds. » You’re glad he’s not looking at you because you feel like crying.

« Did you? » he’s looking at you now, his deep brown eyes peering at you so sharply that you feel as though you are staring at the center of Earth itself, « ‘was under the impression that you were, dunno, avoiding me. »

You don’t know what to say but you don’t feel like lying, not tonight. And your silence is enough of an answer so that Eddie pulls himself up, now fulling facing you as he sits on the couch next to you, his shattered look a dagger in your already bleeding heart.

« It’s because of the girls, isn’t it? » he pleads, your attention locked to the television.

« Eddie, I-» but you don’t have the time to finish whatever made up sentences you were planning on offering to him

« I fucked up, I know. I shouldn’t have brought so many of them, don’t know why I acted like that, probably trying to make you jealous - as if you give a fuck about that sort of thing - and now you must think me truly abnormal because I know you could hear us from your room and that’s why you can’t even bring yourself to look at me, you’ve finally realized that I am, in fact, a freak. »

There’s so much to unpack in his little monologue that you don’t where to start - although the part where he talks about making you jealous has started a fire in your lungs and you don’t know how long you’ll be able to breath before asking if he actually mean it. So you just switch to face him and you take his jaw between your hands, a gesture that you know will calm him down.

« Eddie Wayne Munson, » you over-articulate each syllabe, your eyes never leaving his, « I do not think you are a freak or abnormal, just because you like it rough in the bedroom. »

« But the girls, they bothered you, right?? » he keeps on babbling, « because I called Steve and he said something about Robin yelling my name and the verb fucking when she was on the telephone with you during one of her shifts at Family Video so please don’t tell me that there’s nothing I should worry about because it’d be a lie and we both know it! »

He finally ends his diatribe with a blow and you’re left more lost than ever. Eddie is obviously very drunk but you know from experience that alcohol makes him the very picture of honesty. One drink and he is incapable of lying. And while there’s this respectful, dignified part of you who objects to using his state of inebriation to your advantage, you’re also just human and painfully flawed.

« Well, » you’re unsure at first but your inquiring mind gets the best of you, « well if we’re being honest, yeah, there’s something about those girls that… bothered me, you could say. »

Eddie’s fretful eyes never leave you as you begin to unravel your heart to him. Your hands, that were once on his jaw now rest on his lap, his fingers intertwined with yours and the familiar feeling on his rings against your skin somehow gives you the strength to utter the rest.

« It’s just that, I don’t know, perhaps I am imagining things and I’m completely mistaken - and if that’s the case, I want you to know how sorry I am and please don’t let me being a moron ruin our friendship but I just feel like… those girls they… I was under the impression that they kinda all add something in common with me, you see? »

Eddie’s silence is deafening. He is no longer facing you and as you anxiously observe his profile, you distinguish an odd brilliance in his eyes. He’s about to cry, you comprehend, I’ve ruined everything.

« Forget it Eddie, » you’re quick to shake your head, as if the gesture could erase your words, « I’m sorry, it’s probably the beer that’s making me say crazy shit. »

« No, » his voice is softer now, although you still recognize the cast of alcohol in it, « no, you’re right. They all looked like you, somehow. That’s why I wanted them. »

He turns to face you, bearing a smile so full of sadness that you feel a knot slowly forming in your throat.

« I know it’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard in your life. But it took me three years to graduate high school so perhaps I am indeed a lost cause. »

« Don’t say that. » You cut him off, tightening the grip that your hands have on his.

« But that’s the true, isn’t it? » Eddie lets out a sour laugh, gazing at your joined hands before he sighs, « Because any normal human being would just tell you how much they like you instead of seeking bits of you in every girl they meet. I can’t help it, I just - I just pretend they’re you even though they’re nowhere near as beautiful or smart or funny but I have to! Shit, I even almost hooked up with a girl once because she had your name but I couldn’t bring myself to say your name while kissing another name, that was too fucked up, even for me. »

« You… you like me ? » the knot in your throat is tighter now and you feel as if air has left your lungs

« Y/N, I’m crazy about you. »

There’s something in you that breaks at the very instant, perhaps the dam that you have built months ago, when the slow realization that your attraction for Eddie was not going anywhere had taken over your being. It’s like being submerged by a wave of emotions that you don’t quite know how to describe and, almost instinctively, you just laugh.

« I know » Eddie groans, hiding his face into the back of the couch, « Jesus H. Christ, this is so embarrassing. »

« More embarrassing that the fact that I’ve heard you slap at least six different asses during the last two weeks? » you can’t help but tease him, a sweet revenge for what he put your through

« You see, that’s exactly why it couldn’t be you! I could never be like that with you, » Eddie suddenly jolts and you laugh again because frankly, the whole situation is ridiculously funny to you

« Eddie Munson, you wouldn’t fuck me? But I thought you were crazy about me? » you dramatically act as if he was announcing you the worst news ever, gasping audibly, one hand planted on your open mouth, eyebrows comically risen above your overly shocked gaze. You’re about to laugh again but Eddie’s gentle tone interrupts you with something that you hadn’t expected at all.

« Y/N, I wouldn’t fuck you. I would make love to you. »

And you ultimately decide that fuck it, you’ve already wasted too much time ignoring what’s been spreading inside of you since you first heard him being dominant.

« Perhaps I want you to fuck me. »

Time stops for a second, or maybe for an hour. You can’t tell. Eddie looks at you, astonished, like a deer caught in the headlights, but there’s also the gleam of a fire in those magnificent brown eyes. You don’t know who moves first and later, you will both argue that it was the other but at this very instant it doesn’t matter. What matters if that you’re finally kissing Eddie Munson and he’s kissing you back and it is glorious.

It’s messy, of course, as first kisses tend to be, especially when there’s alcohol involved but as you part your lips, an eager invitation to feel his tongue against yours, you find out that you don’t care. It’s perfect just the way it is, with his hands buried into your hair and yours grasping his shirt wile you push yourself against his torso, craving even more contact. But you still need to breath so you break the kiss, your foreheads meeting and Eddie’s smile is so dazzling that you giggle again.

« I’ll fuck you in the morning when I’m sober, darling. » He pecks at the corner of your lips, tracing a route that goes from your jaw to your ear. « ‘cause I wanna remember every second of the first time I’ll get to feel you clench around me. »

Your laugh dies in a whimper and his lips are on yours again, only this time there’s a fervor that leaves you breathless. It’s like Eddie knows what you like, his teeth grazing your lower lip without biting it, his tongue slowly dancing around yours in a mystic choreography. Your nose is so pressed against his cheek that it’s all scrunched up now and when capture Eddie’s lips between your teeth, he lets out a moan that makes you shudder with anticipation.

« Easy there, princess. » He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you to pull you into a tight embrace, his mouth leaving delicate kisses at the crown of your head, « we’ll have plenty of time tomorrow. »

« But I want it now, Eddie » you’re not far from begging, your nose finding the crook of his neck as your start leaving sloppy kisses at the juncture between his neck and shoulder « I want you to fuck me. Or to make love to me, I don’t care. »

« Maybe I can make fuckin’ love to you » there’s a glimpse of malice in his boyish smile that makes you question why you waited for so long before making a move on him.

« Or you can fuck me with love » you counter, playing with the unkept curls that frame his beautiful face.

And you both laugh, and suddenly everything feels easy and right. You have completely forgotten about the movie playing in the background, about David Bowie and magic babies, because the only thing that matters is right in front of you. You want Eddie and he wants you to and tomorrow, after Eddie finally fucks you, you’ll Robin and Steve and you’ll thank them for making things right. But for now, you kiss him until your lips hurt and you can’t tell if it’s because of the constant contact with Eddie’s mouth or because you can’t stop smiling from the sheer ecstasy that this night has brought to you.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson imagine #Eddie Munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #Eddie Munson fanfiction

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carlosfruitsnacks · 2 years ago

Text

"a little bet"

summary:

— Camilo finds himself drawn to your impassive personality. He plans to propose a bet in hopes it will get you to notice him, luckily, you do. You two grow closer all because of a little bet

genre:

— fluff & modern au

notes:

— gender-neutral reader. I do not speak fluent Spanish and all of the Spanish here is translated from google, feel free to correct me.

warning/s:

— none

a/n:

— a cute request from anon, kinda late but hope you guys enjoy <3

A pair of hazel eyes glimmering and solely focused on one subject in a form of a human. A sigh was emitted into the air, mixing with all the other ambiance in the surroundings. The atmosphere present at the library was filled with busy sounds and hushed noises, merely relaxing.

"Pst, primo, are you even reading at all?"

A girl with rounded green glasses rolled her eyes at the curly-haired boy sitting beside her. She puts down her book to exhale and notices his fixated gaze on a certain somebody.

"Really, Camilo?"

She gave him an unamused look. The boy beside him, who happens to be her cousin named Camilo, snaps out of the trance and furrowed his eyebrows at her.

"Do you mind? I'm busy here, Mirabel"

"Oh wow, and what exactly are you busy with, primo?"

"Art homework, I'm supposed to look for a beauty that catches the eye"

Camilo explains, seemingly trying to make an excuse for his staring. Mirbel was not buying it so she punches his shoulder.

"Tonto, staring at them doesn't count as art homework!"

"¿Por que? Our teacher said to look for a beauty that catches the eye and make a sketch!"

"You barely even started! You're just making an excuse to stare at [Name] again!"

"Mind your own business, Mirabel!"

"SHHHH!"

The two stopped bickering at the sound of the librarian shushing them for their loud voices, they muttered an apology and proceeded to go about what they were currently doing. Mirabel sighs and gets on with her review while Camilo continues to stare into the distance, eyes purely stuck on a singular person sitting alone at one of the desks in the library. Your hair was neat, your clothes were tidy, and the impassive expression on your face made Camilo's heart skip beats. He observes your [Eye Color] eyes scanning the book in hand, laser-focused on the contents within, he watches you flip a page and continue reading.

Every now and then you'll tuck a hair behind your ear or put down your book for a second to stretch, Camilo's breath would hitch in his throat because every minor movement of yours made him so besotted by you. He knows you've been always collected, calm, and chill. He knows you never look for conflict for the thrill, that's why he's so drawn to you. Camilo was attracted to you because you were the exact opposite of him.

Everyone knows in school how much of a ball full of energy he was, he was often seen bouncing through the hallways and talking to a lot of people. Always socializing and never late when it comes to fun. Camilo was the beloved social butterfly while you were the beautiful wallflower.

Unbeknownst to him, you quickly noticed his stares. He visibly freezes in his seat when you looked at him. Your face was void of emotion, he grows tense. Ultimately, you shrugged and picked up your book as you resumed reading. Camilo wipes the sweat off his forehead. Jeez, he barely hasn't studied or started any of his homework. He blows a raspberry and rests his chin on the palm of his hand.

For a long time, Camilo wanted to make a move. He wanted to impress you or do anything that will get your attention so you can finally talk to him. For an extrovert, he feels incredibly shy when you're near. Camilo needed an idea, a perfect plan. It seemed like the heavens heard his prayer because an idea pops inside his mind.

Mirabel furrowed her eyebrows as she watches her cousin rise from his seat, collect his things, and walk over to where you were at. She watches Camilo approach you.

"Hey, [Name], right?"

You hear someone say, you lower your book and realized it was Camilo Madrigal who has called you.

"Yes? Do you need something?"

"We share the same classes, right? I was wondering if you could help me with something"

"Hm, sorry, I can't. I'm very busy, right now"

Camilo was momentarily baffled when his plan doesn't work, but he doesn't dare back down. So, he goes to the vacant seat beside you and happily sits down. You tilt your head at him.

"That's cool, I'm just gonna sit here and study"

He says but you don't utter a word. You simply shut your book and tucked it inside your bag before pulling out your notes and examining them. Camilo was shamelessly staring at you to the point that it distracts you.

"Excuse me, but is there a problem?"

"Oh, no, no. Nothing at all, you just look pretty"

"You're Camilo, right?"

"Yep, the one and only"

"Can you kindly go study somewhere else, Camilo?"

He pouts though he doesn't back down. You realize that he wasn't leaving his spot, you let out a sigh and decided to put away your things into your bag. You don't understand why Camilo was suddenly flirting with you but you have priorities. But as you were about to rise from your seat, Camilo stops you by grabbing your arm.

"How about a little bet, [Name]?"

He asks. You give him a puzzled look, and you think about his proposal. Normally, you weren't the type to make or take bets but in Camilo's case, you're intrigued. He lets go of your arm, you glance at him up and down.

"And what bet do you have in mind?"

"I bet you to go out to an amusement park with me"

Camilo says. Your eyes were unblinking, evidently surprised by what he said. An amusement park, huh? You raised a brow at him.

"Like on a date?"

"Sure, why not?"

He gives you a smirk, something about it made you emit a light chuckle. Camilo tried his best to hide his nervousness with a confident stance.

"Fine, I'll go with you. And if I don't enjoy it, you'll stop bothering me"

"Deal, here's my number"

Camilo holds out his phone for you as you swiftly typed and saved his number in your contacts. He sends you a wink before he turns his heel to leave. You hummed, that was interesting.

"Oh my god, they said yes!"

Camilo squealed as he sprinted all over his room like an energizer bunny on crack. He couldn't believe that it was finally happening, he was finally going on a date with you! Immediately, he goes to prepare the perfect outfit. His entire family all shook their head in amusement when he busied himself getting ready for tomorrow.

When tomorrow arrived, Camilo jolts out of bed, full of energy despite barely getting any sleep due to his excitement. He takes a quick shower, taking his sweet time to make sure he smells fresh. He puts on his yellow sweatshirt and black jeans, he finished the outfit with a pair of checkered Vans. Camilo practically drowns himself in his best perfume before fixing his hair.

You felt your phone vibrate just in time after you finished dressing up. Camilo texted and told you that he was already in front of your house. It gave you a quick surprise as you head towards the door and saw him holding a bouquet of sunflowers.

"Hi, for you, [Name]"

Camilo gives you the flowers, you blink at him and at the bouquet before slowly taking it. The sunflowers smelled and looked great, you decided to place them away in the house.

"Thanks"

"Shall we go?"

"Okay"

You say, calmly following him out the door. It didn't take long for you two to get to the nearest amusement park, Camilo was bursting with energy when he grabs your hand and leads you through the crowd. He insisted on riding the rollercoaster first out of all things, you shook your head.

"Come on! I bet you can't ride the rollercoaster with me"

"Fine..."

Both of you got into the ride. The moment the rollercoaster began moving towards the big drop, you looked at Camilo who had the brightest smile on his face. You were distracted by it for a while until the rollercoaster dropped with enormous speed, merely sending your heart flying out of your chest. Eventually, the ride ended with Camilo cheering and saying you two should ride again. You hide a shiver with a deadpan face.

"...No thanks. Let's go find a different ride"

Camilo shrugs and takes you to the bumping cars. Of course, he'd take you to the most exhilarating rides first. You got into one of the cars and immediately Camilo bumps against you, it doesn't bother you until he does it several times. You groaned and decided to bump against him, nearly sending him toppling off. Needless to say, you had a little bit of fun after that.

The two of you stopped to get snacks, midway eating your cotton candy, you notice the tall drop tower in the distance. You grin to yourself before looking at Camilo, expressionless.

"I bet you to go try the drop tower"

"Only if you ride it with me"

"Okay, fine"

You blankly said as he leads you towards the drop tower. You were quite nervous after being strapped unto one of the seats. As you glance at Camilo, the nervousness leaves your body when his face goes pale.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Camilo?"

"Ye-yeah!"

He gulped when the platform began rising, it rose high enough that you can see the view of the entire amusement park. To you, it was a beautiful view but to Camilo, it nearly gives him a heart attack. So, imagine his horror when the platform began to drop all the way to the floor before rising and falling a few times. You let out a tiny laugh and smile, you check on Camilo and the poor guy literally fainted in his seat. After the ride was over he gained consciousness, you softly grabbed his arm.

"Camilo? Are you doing okay?"

"Sí, estoy bien"

He replied and gave you a smile, but his face told you a different story. For Camilo's sake, you chose to bring him to one of the booths that offered games with prizes. Quickly, his cheery mood returns when he spots the games.

"Tell me what you want, I'll win it"

"I bet you can't even win, Camilo"

"See that cat plushie? I'm gonna win it, just watch"

You rolled your eyes and watched him walk towards the booth, if he throws a dart at the center, he wins. You crossed your arms as he goes to play, he misses four times until the last dart magically lands in the center. You watched with bewilderment as he does bring you the cat plushie, winning the bet with flying colors.

"See, told you I can win"

"That was sheer luck, Camilo"

You told him, and he laughs it off. Both of you go on a walk, talking and getting to know each other. The entire time you were mindlessly clutching the cat plushie close to you. It was getting dark when Camilo spotted the colorful Ferris wheel, he tugs on your hand and pointed at it.

"I bet you to go ride the Ferris wheel with me, [Name]"

"No"

"Pretty pleaseeee?"

He gives you a pair of puppy dog eyes as you finally give in. You both get on the ride, he takes the seat next to yours. A childish chime played as the Ferris wheel started moving, you steal a look at Camilo only to find him already staring at you. With a small blush on your cheeks, you steer your eyes away, quietly waiting for the ride to be over.

"Sooooo, did you enjoy today, [Name]?"

"It was okay"

You said with a deadpan expression. Camilo wasn't buying it after what he has witnessed the entire day, unbeknownst to you, he noticed all the tiny smiles that appeared on your face during the day. The sight really made him fall harder for you.

"I saw you smiling every once in a while, I know it wasn't just okay"

"Admittedly, it was fun at some parts"

You confess. The entire day observing Camilo, you find yourself interested in him. Something about his welcoming and warm aura pulled you towards him. Throughout the day, he always made sure you were having fun and it tugged on your heartstrings. Camilo chuckles.

"So, I win the bet"

"No you don't, I only said it was fun at some parts"

"But still! You enjoyed it!"

Camilo pointed out. You sighed, you began giving him excuses why he didn't win the bet and he'd disagree. Both of you bickered for a while until you decided to stop him.

"You know, you could've bet me to kiss you"

You watch him freeze, suddenly, you regretted saying that to him. Camilo's heart banged against his ribcage, and the thought of kissing you plagued his mind.

"Really? Can I change my bet?"

"No"

He pouts at your answer. You find the defeated expression on his face adorable, so you decided to lean in and give him a kiss on the cheek. Camilo goes rigid, he stares at you owlishly with glimmering eyes. There was a soft look on your face.

"Thanks...for today, I really enjoyed it, Camilo"

"...You're welcome"

Finally, a smile rises on your impassive face and it sends Camilo clutching his heart, silently thanking the gods above. You watch a devilish expression spawn on his face.

"How about another bet, [Name]?"

You scoffed, it was unbelievable that he decided to propose another bet. A small smirk makes its way to your lips.

"Let's see what you got"

taglist: @pochi-moochika , @cahmilo , @vanevafu , @irisia-ckzkb1109 , @elegantkidfansoul , @candykamikun , @justzei , @try-cry-why-try , @nanaisheretomessupthings , @eichenhouseproperty , @nort0616 , @megs2world ...join here

masterlist

#encanto #disney encanto #encanto fanfiction #encanto fanfic #camilo madrigal #camilo my beloved #camilo madrigal my beloved #camilo madrigal x reader #camilo madrigal x y/n #camilo x you #camilo x reader #camilo x y/n #jay's fanfics™️#jay's fluff fics™️

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skylarsblue · 3 years ago

Note

You should've seen a request from my goofy ass coming papa blue

OKAY SO HEAR ME OUT

Some domestic Sinclair brothers fluff with a Hispanic female reader? Them white babies need flavor, and yall know Bo cant cook and that Lester be eating worms and canned beans.

No but seriously, how cute is it to imagine a lil Hispanic housewife reader slapping Lester's hand with a spatula while cooking,or yelling at Bo in spanish ((hes into it but we dont comment)) and her all around babying Vincent, calling him gifted and just loving them the way they deserved as kids. Just feisty, small little momma cleaning around the house, screaming flamenco at the top of her lungs, teaching Bo and lester the Merengue,, it's so cute-

I am always down for sassy housewives/mama Y/N's. They speak to my soul. I may be whiter than the first European settlers if they were also vampires who liked chicken-fried-okra, but I have some Hispanic friends! So hopefully that'll help me here. Also, the coMMENT ABOUT THE FLAVOR PLEASE-

Bo Sinclair

I’m gonna be completely honest...he’s gonna make cringy comments. At least in the beginning. Oddly enough, he means it innocently, but you’ll need to explain to him why calling you “exotic” is in fact, not a compliment. He means well I swear! For once...

Bo’s in need of a feisty housewife, if any of the Sinclair’s need a chancla thrown at them, it’s him. That being said, he’s not super into being yelled at. So, if it’s your immediate reaction, that might cause some issues. However, when you start yelling in Spanish? Yeah he’s into it, whether it’s directed at him or someone else. He has absolutely no idea what you’re saying but it sounds pretty.

While he entrusts you with your “housewife duties”, he’s also gonna question everything. Mostly your cooking, even if he ends up enjoying it 99% of the time. But, he highly doubts Vix Vapor run as literally any effect on a chest cold at all. And when it does? He’s gonna grumble about the smug grin on your face.

On the topic of kids; Bo’s generally the kinda guy to deny wanting kids, but then secretly want them, at least at some point. He’s mostly just afraid he’ll end up like Victor. He doesn’t want to fuck up a kid as badly as he is. That, and he doesn’t want to seem soft. But, the more Bo thinks about it, the more he grows to like the idea. He might not actively come to you asking to make one, but you’re likely to see a spike in his breeding kink at some point in the relationship.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent absolutely adores the Spanish language. It’s one of the languages he considers a beautiful, almost poetic dialect. Most of the time, they utterly melt when you speak Spanish. Now, when you scream in Spanish, he’s taken aback. They’ve never see such fire! They might snicker to themselves if it’s directed at Bo, which it usually is.

Vincent will love most of your food, but, he can’t handle spice very well. They fear the moment you bring out any hot peppers in the kitchen. He’s a bit of a baby when spice is a thing.

Something they enjoy with you is the music. Assuming it’s not too loud or intense, they certainly enjoy listening to you sing in your mother tongue to the radio. Bo makes gagging noises when he sees Vincent gazing adoringly at you when you add a little dance while sweeping. If it’s late and you two are alone, he’ll gladly join in.

On the topic of wanting kids: Out of all three Sinclair brothers, Vincent is the most apprehensive. It’s just not something he’s ever thought about too hard. It’s not that they dislike kids, but they never bothered to consider it. When they do, there’s a million things that make him fear actually doing so. One, his face, he doesn’t want to scare children. Two, their lifestyles. Ambrose, town of dead wax people, is not necessarily the best place to raise children. And three, Vincent’s terrified of the idea that your babies will end up conjoined. Even if it was only a minor case (such as a slight fusion of the arm), he doesn’t have the skills his father had to separate them. That’s not to say he could never be convinced! It would just take a lot longer.

Lester Sinclair

Oh buddy boy what a match made in Heaven. Lester would work well with someone with a loud personality in most cases. He’s an energetic guy, someone to be loud with would work well. Man has no clue what words you’re saying in Spanish, but he’s willing to try and pick up some stuff if you’re willing to teach him. But he’s more an audible learner. I do think it’d be hilarious if you managed to teach him enough to where he can use it against Bo. Because it’ll drive the man up a wall.

Lester would adore your cooking more than anything else. (Excluding family, of course.) He enjoys cooking most of the time, but he rarely tries new things. He has his specialties. Fried chicken, cod fish, etc. But he loves food, especially food with a lot of spice. On top of this, you making food for him will make his heart sore. One of his love languages, both giving and receiving, it’s acts of service.

He’s probably gonna be confused by a lot of superstitions & remedies that you swear by. But, he’s never going to completely discount them. If you say herbal tea is gonna help his throat, he’ll try it. If you say Vics is gonna do-away with his chest cold? Slather him, he’s got it. Lester has no idea how that Mother Mary candle is gonna keep away negative energy but if you say so, get hundreds!

On the topic of kids: Lester’s the most likely to be the most ready for kids. He’s definitely thought of it the most, but not to the point where he’s made it a life goal. However, if you bring up having kids? Lester is gonna be over the moon. Now, he’ll be incredibly anxious over the idea, but it will be a thought he mulls over with a smile anyway. He’ll bring it up often after you do and basically impatiently insist that you get started right away, even if you said you wanted them eventually.

#slashers #slasher community #slasher x reader #slasher fucker #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #house of wax #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #house of wax 2005 #slasher headcanons

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duskholland · 4 years ago

Text

Crash Into You || Tom Holland Smut

ice hockey!tom x figure skater!reader — smut.

summary ↠ you can’t stand the ice hockey team. they’re loud, brutish, and incredibly annoying. it’s just inconvenient that you can’t seem to stop running into their star player, an irritatingly suave man called tom, nor deny the way your pulse quickens every time he’s around... word count ↠ 20.2k. warnings ↠ mild depictions of sport-related injury including blood and nose breakage, a lot of bad language, some jealousy, and nsfw smut material! extended smut warnings are beneath the cut, but this is 18+ !!! minors dni. a/n ↠ it’s funny because I tell myself I don’t like sport aus, yet this is somehow one of my favourite things that I’ve ever written...? the au is kinda ~obscure~ I guess, but it checked so many of my boxes whilst writing it, and I had a great time. it’s also the longest thing I’ve ever posted?! ahh !! I hope you’ll like dutchy, and give this a go even if you’re not really into hockey <3 —↠ there are so many different people that helped me out with this!!! in addition to all the wonderful anons that sent in ideas last month, I want to extend a huge thank you to @geminiparkers @tetralea @hollandharrison @honeyspidey @stixnstripesworld and @uglypastels for each helping out in some way, whether that be through brainstorming ideas, making incredible art, or teaching me about hockey and/or skating! <3<3 also—the biggest thank you ever to the lovely sammy @t-holland2080 for not disowning me after editing this for me and seeing my basic spelling errors lmfao. ily <3 hope you all enjoy !!

extra !! @uglypastels made two beautiful pieces of fanart for tom aka dutchy — you can view these here + here !!! @softholand also made an absolutely incredible moodboard based off the fic, and you can view that here :’) thank you to both of them for using their amazing artistic talents on this fic + making me literally like. the happiest writer on the planet :’)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extended smut warnings ↠ two sections of smut. this is a certified Horny Warmy™️ (thanks chlo for that category) so it’s very gentle, very wholesome. includes oral and fingering (fem-receiving) and protected MxF sex :’)

✧ *:･ﾟCrash Into You ･ﾟ:*✧

“Why are they always so noisy? How hard can it be to hit a bit of plastic?”

You laugh quietly, glancing at your friend, Yelena. She’s staring out across the rink, hands resting on the plastic barrier that lines the perimeter with irritation in her icy blue eyes. A warming blush tickles the apples of her cheeks, and it softens the expression of frustration that she wears so well.

“Seriously,” she adds. “Listen to them… It’s so… unpleasant.”

Your teeth catch your lower lip as you bring your gaze away from Yelena and instead onto the object of her anger: the hockey team.

Your eyes zip around the rink, watching as the players run through yet another drill. The team—Kingston Kites—, 20 in full, 7 currently on the ice, crash around the arena like a cyclone of a thousand moving calamitous parts. For the last few months, the practice rink at your sports centre has been closed, which has led to the pre-existing rivalry between the hockey team and your own team of figure skaters deepening. There have been arguments between your managers and theirs about which team gets priority over the exhibition rink. What’s emerged has been a bitter taste in the air. Simply put: the figure skating team dislikes the ice hockey team, and the feeling is mutual.

“I dunno,” you mutter. “I guess it means they’re working hard.”

The noises are rather distracting. You watch as the blurry figures, shrouded in the team colours of white, green, and orange, line up and take shot after shot at the small net on the ice. After each attempted shot on goal, the players have a tendency to release loud grunts and exclamations of exertion, and they echo around the empty arena. Whilst you agree with Yelena that the noises are irritating, a small part of you also admires their commitment.

“Perhaps.” Yelena steps back from the side and starts to stretch her arms. You do the same. There’s a fifteen-minute overlap in the scheduled slots on ice when the figure skating team uses half the rink to warm up as the hockey team uses the other to cool down. After the fifteen minutes play out, the Zamboni skims out the cuts in the rink, and the hockey team finally leaves you alone. It’s not ideal to share the rink, but every second you can spend practising helps. “I can’t stand them.”

You smile softly, slowly rotating your right arm as you warm up the muscles. “I know,” you agree. “You always complain about them.”

She scowls, eyes glistening with fierce irritation. “Because they’re annoying. So dramatic and messy.”

“Mmm, well, I don’t think they’re very fond of us either,” you respond. You bend over, slowly rubbing your fingers over the bandage you have wrapped around your right ankle. “Did you hear about Jenna and Lou in the gym last week?”

“No. What happened?”

You sit down on the cool floor of the arena, thankful for the many layers you’re wearing. As you slowly start to massage your ankle, you glance up at your friend.

“They got interrupted by a couple of the guys. Uh, Osterfield and Barrett? They wanted to do a weights competition or something.”

Yelena scoffs. “Losers.”

You smirk. “They won, though. Lou and Jen. Apparently, the guys stormed out. Couldn’t take getting beaten by a couple of skaters.”

Your friend cackles then offers you a hand up. You grunt as you stand and steady yourself, glancing down at your skates and checking the laces. A loud buzzer goes off, and you hear a few yells of disgruntlement come off the ice as the players realise it’s the end of their solo practice and the start of your turn on the rink too.

“Can’t wait to get out there,” Yelena murmurs, eyes sparkling. You nod in agreement and crack your knuckles in anticipation.

Together, you walk over to the small gate in the side of the rink, joining the line with the rest of your team. Ten of you make up the competitive figure skating team, and all of you wear varying articles of black, thermal clothing. You’re in a pair of leggings, a long-sleeved thermal shirt, and a loose burgundy t-shirt, drifting over the top. The cold doesn’t bother you as much as it used to, but that’s only through the years you’ve spent gliding around at sub-zero temperatures.

You sigh happily as you inhale a breath of the frozen air that hangs crispy above the rink. You step onto the ice, closing your eyes as you skate forwards, your body supported effortlessly by the skates you wear so well.

There’s a line of bright red cones set out across the middle of the ice, sectioning off the hockey players from the rest of you. You smile to yourself as you risk a glance across the rink and take stock of a few of the players, huddled together, grunting and exchanging low words of irritation. They look very funny, wearing various layers of thick padding and helmets—less formal than they’d be at a match, but still dressed up enough to mean business. You feel them staring at you, glaring and bemoaning the fact they have to share the rink, but you let it brush off you like water.

“Y/N! Show me your cannonball. Weren’t you working on it?” Yelena’s back, skimming to rest beside you, plaited blonde hair hanging in two bunches either side of her face. You nod, pushing off and checking the ice is clear ahead of you before skating into a space.

Nothing beats the rush of adrenaline that comes with skating. You think that you’re addicted to it now. The charge of the nervous build-up, followed by the relief of the payoff never gets old. Your fears of failure get swept away the moment you sink into the ultra-focused headspace of an athlete, and the buzz of reward you get every time you land a move perfectly trumps the blood, sweat and tears that such an unforgiving sport has taken from you. You wouldn’t be able to quit skating, even if you wanted to.

A cannonball sit spin is one of the hardest spins in your repertoire, and the element that has been giving you the most grief in your show routine. This season, you’re competing in the national circuit for solo ice dance. It’s not your first time taking on the competition—in fact, consistently over the last few years, you’ve been ranking higher each time you compete. Last year you finished third, and so this year, your eyes are fixed very firmly on the prize. You know securing first place in the competition will attract the Olympic scouts’ attention, and that’s your greatest dream.

Moving quickly, you skate in a brief semi-circle to build momentum before getting low, resting on one leg as you stretch the other out in front of you. Your hands curve around the ankle of your extended leg, and you use the energy to carry you into a spin, the fresh air wafting off the ice and cooling your cheeks. It carries out for a few seconds, then you have to concentrate as you exit the manoeuvre, brows creasing as you continue to turn. You end in a standing spin, arms held out as you slowly bring them back into your sides and end elegantly with a little bow.

Yelena claps, cheering from across the ice. “Fuck, Y/N, that looks perfect now,” she calls out. “Wouldn’t ever be able to tell that it was causing you trouble— oh, look out!”

Your eyes are only just beginning to widen in response to her concern when you feel a very strong figure slam into you, hurtling at top speed and taking you both down onto the ice. You don’t need to see anything beyond a flash of white, orange and green to know that it’s a fucking hockey player, and the ache of getting thrown to the hard ground is quickly overcome by the anger that replaces everything else.

“Oh, shit,” you hear a gruff voice say.

You groan as you try to sit up, opening your eyes just to see that the player is crumpled on top of you. Your chest feels heavy from where he’s laying sprawled over you, and you glance down to look at his face, a scowl holding tight over your features.

Despite the helmet and the visor sticking over the top of his face, you’re able to make out a few details of the man. He seems to be around your age, his skin pale but flushed warm from the cold and such a vigorous practice. The brown depths of his eyes swell with concern and guilt, pairing nicely with the regretful smile that pangs across his thin pink lips. You get a peek at his brown hair sticking out from beneath his helmet, and can’t quite stop your eyes from catching on the hard line of his impressive jaw.

“You idiot,” you mutter, shaking off the daze that comes with admiring such a handsome stranger. “Did you even look where you were going before deciding you were going to try and kill me?”

The man’s eyebrows shoot up, his expression of concern burning into irritation as he scowls at you.

“Fucking hell,” he replies. His accent twangs prominently, cool and unyielding. “It was an accident, darling.”

You grunt, rapidly scooting back across the ice the moment he’s clambered off you. He sits across from you, brushing at the pads on his knees as he stares at you remorsefully. You can’t tell if he’s pouting at you or the shards of ice messing up his knees.

“An accident is brushing into someone, not slamming them onto the ice,” you mutter. Bitterness sweeps into your voice. “Twat.”

“Alright, alright.” He throws his hands into the air and leans closer. “I’m sorry. Okay?”

You draw your lips into a tight-lipped frown and look away, ignoring him as you try to stand, only to end up wincing as pain shoots up your bad ankle. “Fuck,” you whisper, your irritation growing stronger as you try to rotate your foot and feel the pain thicken.

Opposite you, the man clambers to his feet, getting his bearings on his skates before begrudgingly sliding up you. Your eyes take in his figure, running the lines of his stocky form. It’s always hard to tell what the guys look like beneath the padding and the helmets, but he doesn’t look as tall as you’d expected when he was laying on top of you. He’s smaller than the rest of them, but you have a suspicion he can probably move remarkably fast. How else would he have been able to take you out so easily?

He offers you a gloved hand, staring at you through cold eyes. “C’mon,” he urges, when you do nothing but stare at his palm. “Let me help you up. It’s the least I can do.”

You eye him suspiciously, but you know you won’t be able to get up without some assistance. A brief glance at your team around you suggests they’re all watching your exchange, intrigued. So, you swallow your pride, grit your teeth, and slip your hand into his glove, digging your skates into the ice as he helps you back to your feet. A short hiss of pain falls through your lips as your ankle throbs. When your leg threatens to buckle, the man moves in closer and grabs at your waist.

“Woah!” he exclaims, holding you up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, trying to steady yourself, “no thanks to you.”

You hear him release an exasperated sigh, and he lets you shake yourself free, but his hand drifts down to pull at your arm and hold you back when you try to skate off.

“What do you want?” you snap, tension in your voice. Beneath the visor, you can make out the guilt dusting his face, but you’re too focused on your recurring injury to pay it much mind.

“I’m sorry,” he tries. “I am.”

You pull your arm free again, and you hear a few hoots drift over from the other side of the rink. The word Dutchy rises louder, and you watch his expression twitch with irritation.

“Whatever,” you reply. You skate backwards, moving away from him, only relaxing when you feel one of your friends link her arm with yours. “Just forget about it.”

The hockey player looks as though he wants to argue with you, but when you harden your glare, he seems to let it go. He shoots you a very tight-lipped smile, mouth puffing a little with air, and then he picks up the discarded hockey stick and skates back to the other side of the rink. Your eyes briefly flutter over the bright text of Holland before he disappears, being enveloped back into the fold of raucous players as you sink into your friend’s side.

“Are you okay?” she whispers, touch far gentler than his had been.

You grimace, looking down at your ankle. “Yeah,” you reply, frowning sourly. Your eyes lift up across the rink, and you let yourself scowl. “Just pissed off.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Following the incident, and an incredibly bad skating practise, you find yourself reprimanded by your coach and put on bed rest for a few days so you can rest your ankle. It’s hard not to blame the distracted hockey player, but you know you probably had it coming. You’ve been walking the knife’s edge for several weeks with your injury, and as much as you hate to admit it, the time off is necessary.

The moment you’re allowed back on the ice, you’re there in a heartbeat. The training arena also operates as a commercial venue, and there are different slots available during the day for the general public to skate. After receiving the thumbs up from the team physiotherapist, you immediately turn up to one of the open slots available to the public, hoping to brush up on a few things before you rejoin your team in the morning.

For the first ten minutes of your practice, things go well. Your ankle is better for a few days off, and you’re able to sink back into your routine and get back to focusing on the gnarly parts that always throw you in a loop. It isn't too busy either, so there’s room to skate around and feel the air running over your face. It’s easy to get lost in it, your chest full of a lightness you’d spent the last few days bed-bound and dreaming of.

You take a break to drink some water after a while, leaning up against the barrier at the edge of the rink and bending over it to rummage through your bag. When you feel a presence behind you, you stand up, glancing back expecting to see a stranger, and feeling your eyes widen as instead, you recognise the man.

He looks very different without the shoulder pads and the rest of his ridiculous costume, but it’s him: Holland, the hockey player responsible for your skating ban. Still tall, and perched on hockey skates, but more relaxed. Like you, he’s wrapped up warmly, with a tight black thermal shirt curled around his arms, and another t-shirt resting over the top. His brown hair flies freely, bouncy and slightly curled, and his eyes are soft.

“Hi,” he says, biting at his thin lower lip. “Do you remember me?”

You frown as you skate to be in front of him, nodding slowly. “The guy that smashed me into the ice the other day?” you tease, voice cool. “Of course. How could I ever forget?”

You watch as his face darkens in shade, his eyes flickering down to your leg. “I’m, uh, Tom,” he leads with. “I saw you skating and I just wanted to see how you were doing… I haven’t seen you at practice in a few days, and I was, uh… sort of worried I’d seriously hurt you.”

Tom looks at you like he’s scared of you, and you have to bite back a smile as you wonder if you were too harsh on him the other day.

“Hmm.” You cross your arms over your chest and inspect him, gaze following how pronounced his biceps look, pushing up against his shirt. “Well, I was benched for a week.”

He curses softly, accented voice sounding out of place speaking such vulgarity.

“I’m sorry,” Tom says. He looks as though he means it, too. Shoulders sagged, eyes concerned, lower lip bitten red. “I promise, love, it wasn’t intentional. If I could go back in time and stop myself from behaving like such an inconsiderate twat, I would.”

You giggle slightly, unable to disguise the glee that comes with hearing him call himself a twat. You watch as his eyebrows arch up, confusion replacing his sincerity as he slowly crosses his arms over his chest. You’re still irritated by the situation, but you’re no longer incensed. It’s hard to harbour a grudge whilst he’s pouting so acutely.

“Well, Tom, I forgive you,” you say, voice lighter. He releases a deep breath, and you nod to affirm your point. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” Instinctively, you offer him a hand and find a shiver rolling down your back as his warm palm presses up against yours. Tom’s grip is firm and grounding, and his skin is a lot softer than you’d expected.

“Y/N is a nice name,” he says, voice perkier. His eyes seem more alive, and you don’t miss the way he takes in your form with an inquisitive gaze.

Your lips twist into a smirk. “I’ve already forgiven you, you can turn off the charm now.”

Tom shrugs, eyes glinting cheekily. “It’s not charm, darling,” he returns. “This is just who I am.” It seems to be true, too. He’s a lot bolder now the air between you has cleared, no longer looking like he wants to melt through the ice.

You snort loudly and feel your heart quicken when he smiles. “Well, Tom, what are you doing here?” You quirk an eyebrow. “Don’t you guys practice in the mornings?”

“Yeah,” Tom agrees. He breaks off as he looks over his shoulder and waves a hand at the near-deserted ice. “Coach said I need to work on my sprints, though, and it’s a lot easier to do that without the rest of the team hanging around.”

“Makes sense,” you say, deviously deciding you want to see how far you can push him. “You hockey guys are always so slow on the ice.”

Tom’s jaw drops, and you watch as he straightens up and stands a little taller. He meets the challenge directly, and you can’t deny it—it’s attractive. The way he squares his jaw, flares his nostrils and hardens his gaze is hot.

“Fuck you,” he says, voice light, “I’m definitely faster than you.”

You smirk. “As if,” you quip. You raise a hand, twirling a finger around in the lazy direction of the centre of the rink. “Show me what you’ve got. I might give you some pointers if I’m feeling nice.”

Tom releases a very loud laugh, the skin by his eyes crinkling into fine lines. “You’re hilarious, love,” he responds. “Like a figure skater is going to be able to teach me anything of importance.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and you cross your arms as you stand a little straighter. “That’s bold talk from someone who doesn’t look where he’s going,” you tease. You run a hand through your hair, eyeing him closely. “I could easily beat you in any skating-related activity, and I wouldn’t even break a sweat.”

Tom tilts his head to the side, seeming to feed into the idea of a challenge just as much as you. There’s something about him that fires you up the right way—a shared competitiveness that burns as brightly in you as it clearly does in him. It overpowers everything else, taking over, enticing you into letting go of any residual resentment and embracing the chance to beat him.

“How about we put your bragging to the test, darling?” he suggests, tongue tracing his lower lip. His eyes flutter around the curves of your mouth. “A few races, just to see who’s really better.”

You don’t hesitate to nod. “Sure, Tom,” you agree. “But don’t be too pissy when I beat you.”

There’s something endearingly irritating about how confident he is as he smirks at you and leans forward to briefly rest a hand on your shoulder. “Same to you, Y/N,” he responds. “I know it’s annoying to lose.”

You just shake your head, scoffing as you push away from him and move down to the end of the rink. He follows you, coming to a stop on his chunky skates beside you.

“First one to the other side wins,” you announce, reaching back to rest a hand on the barrier. You tilt your head and stare at him until he does the same. “Ready?”

“Mhmm.”

“3, 2, 1, go!”

It’s slightly ridiculous how badly you want to beat him, but there’s just something so infuriating about Tom. Your competitiveness burns in your chest, makes your blood boil and your hands clench into fists, and you find your eyes zeroing in on the opposite side of the rink as tunnel-vision encroaches. You block him and everything else out, your desire to win taking over as you swiftly launch across the ice, skates clipping the surface with metallic sounds as you sprint it. You don’t break—you don’t give up, slow down, or even turn back until you’re slamming into the barrier at the other side, turning around just in time to see Tom come in behind you, lagging about a second behind.

“Shit,” Tom mutters, grimacing.

You smirk. “Told you I’d beat you.”

Tom pulls a sour face, and it makes you giggle. “Best of three?” he offers. “C’mon, Y/N.” His elbow nudges against your side. “I’m still warming up.”

“Alright,” you agree. “But for the record, I still won.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tom mutters, shooting you a sly smile. “Just you wait.”

You win best of three skating forwards, but Tom manages to snag a victory when it comes to speed skating backwards. You can’t take the smirk of triumph on his face, so you offer up a third competition, yearning to prove yourself.

“Can you do an axel?” you ask. Your eyes drift down to his heavy hockey skates. “Or are your boots too chunky and annoying?”

Tom’s face twitches with doubt, but he’s quick to smooth it away. “Fuck yeah,” he states boldly. “I can do anything you can do.” If he doubts the truth of his words, he doesn’t let it show. “Just, uh… Show me how you do it first.”

You have the suspicion he can’t remember what an axel is, so you decide to oblige him.

“Alright,” you agree, boosting away from him. His eyes follow you, and their presence on your figure brings a hidden smile to your face. “Watch this.”

You perform the trick easily. An axel is the simplest of all the jumps, and it gives you no bother to glide forwards, leap into the air, do a swift, neat turn, then land on your back foot gracefully. You could probably do it with your eyes closed.

“There!” you announce, smile on your face.

Tom gulps nervously.

“Easy,” he says, voice slightly quieter. You cross your arms and watch, incredibly amused, to see how far he’ll take his act before giving up. Tom skates forward, confident in his movements, eyes focused, eyebrows furrowed. He takes his time, failing to do anything beyond skating in a straight line before he suddenly, jerkily, attempts the trick.

Time moves in slow motion. It’s with a combination of glee and horror that you watch him fail spectacularly, doing a rotation of approximately 180 degrees before slipping on the return to the rink and landing flat on the ice, groaning loudly. The few of the people sharing the rink with you look around, concerned, and you’re quick to skate over to him, biting your lip guiltily.

“Well,” you say, stopping in front of him. Tom’s still on the ice, arms crossed, glaring angrily at his skates. “I admire you for trying.”

His attention shifts up to you, and his scowl intensifies. “Whatever,” he mumbles. There’s an element of amusement in his eyes, and he takes your hand when you extend it out towards him. Tom’s heavy, but he springs up easily, his fingers tangled in yours and jerking you a little closer. “That was way harder than it looked.”

You hum, and then gulp as he drops your hand. He’s near to you, breath crystallising into a cloud of icy fog in front of you. Your eyes glide over the spray of brown freckles on his face before skimming down the curved line of his nose until you can admire his mouth.

“Well, it is a sport,” you say, voice a little tight. You clear your throat, shaking yourself from your funk as you realise you’re just staring at his lips. “Just like… Like hockey is a sport. I know we make fun of it, but I doubt me or anyone else on the team could play like you guys do.”

Tom seems to enjoy the praise, standing with a little more confidence as you finish speaking. He nods, then brings two slender fingers up to nimbly scratch at his chin.

“Have you ever tried it?” he asks.

“Not properly.”

Tom smirks. “Well, we need to change that. Go down the end, I’ll grab a net.”

You don’t know how he manages to convince the supervisors of the free skate to let the two of you set up an attack zone in the end segment of the rink, but you don’t question it. The sight of Tom reappearing, haphazardly balancing a net, a hockey stick, and a puck in his arms makes you smile, and you briefly think about how easy it's been for your resentment to melt away. There’s something about him that’s incredibly warm, and you don’t dispute the realisation that he’d probably make a good friend.

“Right,” Tom announces. He’s set up the net and shown you how to hold the plastic stick. Now, both of you are staring at the puck, black and stark against the scratched white ice. “Just hit it.”

You glance up at him, sceptical. “Surely there’s more to it than that.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t know what I’m working with until I see you take a hit at it, darling.”

You nod. The stick feels unfamiliar between your hands, but you’re determined to make a better show of it than Tom when he tried to do the axel. After staring at the small open area of the net, you grit your teeth and hit it, watching with widening eyes as the puck soars wide out to the left.

Tom cackles.

“Well… That was an attempt,” he says. His grin doesn’t falter at all, even when you turn around to glare at him.

“Teach me, then,” you quip, scrunching up your nose playfully.

Tom hums, and you watch as he briefly skates away after the puck. You can’t stop yourself from staring at him as he bends over, the bottom of his shirt briefly riding up and exposing the printed band of his boxers. The words Calvin Klein burn into the back of your eyes, still lingering there as he turns and skates back to you. You blink rapidly, shame burning at your face as you try to look more like you’re focused, and less like you can’t stop your eyes from gravitating towards his figure.

He drops the puck back on the ice, just in front of your stick. “Your angle was wrong,” Tom says. “Show me your hands again.” When you do as instructed, he frowns and shakes his head. “No, it’s… It’s more like, your top hand higher, and the lower more angled… Uh… No, no, no. Can I just touch you?”

“Okay,” you squeak, standing a little straighter.

Tom skates forward, resting behind you. He doesn’t hesitate to carefully wrap his arms around you from behind, slender fingers curling over your hands and repositioning them on the stick. You feel like you’ve been electrified—eyes wide, skin responding to his touch. His breath, warm and minty, wafts across the side of your face, and you realise you’re holding your breath.

“Yeah...just like that,” he coos, voice a little softer. He squeezes your hands before letting them go. “Give it another go.”

You swallow back your nerves as you nod, waiting until Tom’s drifted back to hit the puck. You can’t stop yourself from smiling when it goes sailing into the back of the net, and Tom lets out a loud hoot.

“Fuck yeah!” he exclaims, laughing gleefully. “Look at that!”

You glance back at him, enjoying the expression of pride that finds his features. “Pretty good, right?” you say, playing it cool.

“Spectacular, darling.” Tom’s nodding, face alight. “Let’s step it up a notch.”

He brings you through a few drills, and you find yourself enjoying the game despite your early blunder. Before you know it, there’s the sound of a buzzer ringing, signalling that there are five minutes left of your session together. Tom rises to the challenge, announcing that he wants to end by watching you skate at the goal and shoot a point whilst moving. You fail at your first three attempts, unable to coordinate moving the stick, the puck and yourself without something going askew.

“Show me again,” you whine, growing conscious of the timer ticking down.

Tom skates closer, gliding easily with his hands behind his back. His thin lips wear his smirk well.

“Just visualise it, darling,” he says. “Believe in yourself, and you’ll do it.” He pauses, eyes skimming over you. “I believe in you.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Follow my line in.”

Tom skates backwards, beckoning you forwards with outstretched hands and a smile like you’re a toddler he’s teaching to walk. He leads your attack, mapping out your path before shifting out of the way just in time for you to successfully skate and hit the puck into the back of the net. His expression clears into relief, but as you start to celebrate, it’s quick to fall flat. You watch, eyes widening, as Tom gets distracted by you and drifts backwards into the goal, skates getting tangled in the netting. You lunge forward to try and catch him, only to make the situation a thousand times worse as you crash into him, grabbing at his shirt just as he manages to steady himself.

It feels like a cruel trick of fate. A repetition of the past, just, instead of Tom tackling you to the ground, it’s you that manages to slam him back onto the ice. It’s more comfortable this time around, though. For you. Tom’s chest is a lot warmer and softer than the ice.

“Fuck,” Tom groans. His face twists into an aching expression, then his eyes slowly blink open. As you make contact with his brown orbs, you’re surprised to see amusement shift across them. “Oh, how the tables have turned.”

You snort, taking stock of how muscly his front feels. You’re sprawled out completely over him, face suspended above his, Tom’s palms holding your waist. It’s intimate, especially when he reaches up with one hand and pushes your hair from your face so he can peer at you better. You can’t stop your eyes from going straight to his lips.

“S-sorry,” you stammer, voice breathless. You admire the way his hair is spread out around his head, bold against the ice like a halo. “I don’t know what happened.”

“‘S okay.” Tom’s quieter too. His gaze circles quickly between your eyes and your mouth. There’s something cockier about him, and you know the way you’re clinging to the front of his shirt has something to do with it. “I think you fell for me. Again.”

He’s leaning in. You start to do it, too, even go as far as to let your eyes drift close. He gets so close that you can almost feel the warm outline of his lips, brushing against yours, but then there’s the loud noise of a buzzer vibrating through the air. As the sound dies, it serves to signal the end of such a tender moment, as well as the end of the session.

You startle and push off him as you shoot him an apologetic grin.

“Sorry,” you say. You’re shaking a little, but you hope he puts it down to shock. You manage to clamber up and offer him your hands.

Tom accepts your help, and he groans as you help him up.

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he says, pausing to shake out his legs and slide forward. He swings your palms through the air, squeezing at your fingers as he very gently twirls you beneath his arm, then moves in nearer. “Accidents happen. I’m not surprised you wanted to be on top of me.”

All you can do is laugh and hope Tom can’t tell how he makes the base thrumming of your heart pick up.

“As if,” you return. You glance down at your intertwined fingers and feel your heart pang. “A hockey player? I could never.”

Tom just smiles, then squeezes your hands before letting them slip from his grasp. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs. He nudges your shoulder then shifts away, off in the direction of the net. “You know there’s no one that could give you as good a time as me.” He’s joking—it’s obvious in the cadence of his voice, the smile on his face. But why does it feel so layered?

“Ha ha,” you respond, skating over to him. When you notice him struggling, you dart forward and grab the net, slinging it over a shoulder. You glance back, arching an eyebrow as you decide to test the water. “I have had fun, though,” you add. “With you.”

Tom tilts his head to the side, ruffling up his hair with a hand. His smile lights up his entire face.

“Me too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Almost a week passes, and though you don’t see Tom again, he’s certainly on your mind. You find yourself thinking about him all too much, considering he’s a hockey player, and it goes against the team ethos you’ve been surrounded by.

One day, after practice, you end up sitting on a bench outside the rink, waiting on Yelena as she finishes talking with one of your coaches. Bored and curious, you pull out your phone and decide to open Instagram. All around the arena are banners advertising the hockey team’s social media, and you find yourself drawn to the official account with a few easy taps. You start to scroll through the feed, eager eyes skimming over every face until you find the one you’re looking for.

It’s Tom, from last season, clutching the victory trophy in his hands as he’s held on his team’s shoulders. His face is animated, pulled wide in a large grin as he stares at the camera, the skin by his eyes pulled into smile lines. He’s tagged in it, so, curious, you click through and look at his profile. Unsurprisingly, it’s set to public, and you’re careful as you scroll down.

His photos are exactly what you’d expect—a collection of team photos, action shots, and gym selfies. Typical hockey player, but the longer you spend staring at one of his selfies, the cuter he seems to get. Trying to shake yourself out of the daze, you scroll back up, thumb absently wandering over to his Following list. Your eyes widen as you see your profile, at the very top of the accounts.

Tom follows you…?

Brows furrowing, you flip onto your own account, double-checking this new fact by typing out his username in your followers tab. He pops up, at the top, and you sit back, blinking.

Interesting.

After taking a brief moment to compose yourself, you go back to his profile and follow him. You start to flick through his story from the day. You get about halfway through when a shadow casts over your figure. You glance up, expecting to see Yelena, only to startle when it’s Tom.

“Hi,” he offers, raising a hand in greeting. You blink a few times in quick succession, glancing between your phone which shows a mirror selfie from him shirtless in the gym to where he’s now standing in front of you, burgundy hoodie on, flask in hand. You immediately turn your phone off.

“Oh, u-uh, hi,” you say, voice suddenly thick. He tilts his head to the side, an amused smile finding his lips as he sees you flustered. “What… What are you doing here?”

“I was in the gym,” he says, telling you information you already know. “Saw you down here on my way out, thought I’d say hi.” He rocks back on his feet, looking a little nervous. “I, uh… Keep thinking about last week. On the ice.”

“Oh?” Tom nods. He hesitates, and you realise he’s just awkwardly standing in front of you. “Wait,” you say, shuffling up the bench. “Sit.”

He perches on the wooden slats beside you, offering you his flask. “It’s hot chocolate,” he says, cheeks blushing slightly.

“After the gym?” you return, arching a brow.

Tom smiles. “Fuck yeah,” he says, pressing the flask into your hand. “It’s good, trust me. And, uh, I don’t have any germs or anything. I think.”

You snort, clicking the top open as you look at him over the brim. “Well, I wouldn’t mind catching anything from you,” you say, speaking before you have time to process the words.

Tom’s eyebrows soar up his forehead, a short chuckle leaving his lips as you hide your embarrassment behind the metal flask. The burn of revealing such a humiliating thought is quickly soothed away as you taste the deliciously sweet liquid.

“Well?” Tom coaxes, stretching an arm up as he scratches the back of his neck. His hoodie smells of fresh fabric conditioner. “Good, eh?”

Begrudgingly, you nod. “Yeah,” you say, shooting him a soft smile. Trying to move on the conversation, you return to what he’d said before sitting down. “Uh, what was that you said? About last week?”

Tom nods, seeming a little less apprehensive now to speak to you after your enthusiastic praise. “I was just thinking about how fun it was to skate around with you. It sort of made me regret not getting your number, darling.”

Your lips twitch slightly. “You can have my number if you want, Tom,” you say, speaking softly. His eyes are so pretty up close. “And I’d be down doing it again. I’m free every Wednesday afternoon.”

He nods his head, curls bouncing from the enthusiasm. You pass him back the flask, carefully angling your phone away from him as you unlock it, quickly exit from Instagram, then open up contacts. You watch him input his number, tongue between his lips as his brows furrow. He curses softly as he messes up the numbers and has to backspace a few times, and you have to focus hard on not letting your face betray how cute you find the whole interaction.

He’s cute.

“There you go,” Tom says, passing your phone back. He stands from the bench, tilting the flask towards you. “I’ve gotta go,” he adds. “Carpool. But, uh… See you tomorrow?”

You nod, biting back your smile. “Yeah,” you agree. “Sounds good.”

Before he leaves, Tom darts down to gently kiss your cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment before he springs back and walks away, waving as he goes. As his broad smile fades from sight, you find your hand drifting up, going to your cheek and touching the spot which tingles with the remnants of his kiss.

Swallowing back your nerves, you return your attention to your phone. You open your contact, clicking on Tom and opening up a text message. After a brief moment of contemplation, you decide to play it safe.

Y/N: hey x

A moment later, the notification changes from delivered to read, and the typing bubbles pop up. You shift on the bench, holding your breath.

Tom: hi xx

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

A few weeks pass, and it becomes a habit.

Despite already spending most of your days on the ice, you carve out another hour every Wednesday afternoon and dedicate it to Tom. Over time, he teaches you hockey, and you continue to give him pointers on his skating. After a while, you even manage to coach him through a jump. It’s easy with him. There are no expectations, no routines you need to nail. All you have to focus on when you’re with Tom is having fun—and also trying not to fall too deeply into the reserves of his deep brown eyes. Tom feels like a breath of fresh air—if the air also happens to be loaded full of charm, cheek, and wear an irresistible smile.

Halfway through the hockey league, you end up at the arena on a Saturday night, staying late with the rest of the figure skating team. Your competitive season begins in two weeks, so the team is in for outfit fittings, everyone split across the changing rooms at the arena. You’re competing solo this year, which grants you the rare position of having the freedom to design your dress—a privilege you’ve had a lot of fun with.

“It’s beautiful,” you gasp. “I can’t believe how nice it looks.”

You’re staring at a clothes mannequin, wearing the costume you’d spent hours conceptualising with the team’s designers. It’s a shade of red that perfectly compliments your skin, accented with silver and gold detailing in a beautiful pattern over the front. Gems glimmer and sparkle, and you can’t stop your eyes from tearing up as you look at an object of such beauty.

“Do you like it?” Standing beside the masterpiece, eyes nervous, is Jazzy, the lead costume designer. When you clasp your hands together and nod, she releases a deep sigh of relief. “Thank goodness,” she murmurs. “Let’s get you in it and start marking out the alterations.”

You feel a little bit like a doll, standing on a raised platform as you pull on your costume, but it’s worth the reward of seeing yourself in the dress. After slipping into it, you pull your hair back and pin it sloppily, so you’re able to admire the ensemble fully. You’re in tights, matched to your skin tone, and the tops of your thighs are covered by the red material. It floats down, and you run your fingertips over the hem of the velvety skirt as a smile finds your lips.

“Stunning,” Jazzy compliments. She passes you a tube of lipstick. “Try that one.”

You carefully smooth the shade over your lips, noting with enjoyment how the hue matches the bodice of the dress. As you stare at your reflection in the mirror, you release a breath. When you have your face painted and your hair done properly, you’ll look the part, and clinging to the image of what you’ll look like on competition days is enough to steady some of the nerves. Even if you mess up your routine, you’ll do it looking like you deserve to be there.

“I love it,” you say, releasing a breath. You reach up and pull your hair free, running a hand through it and ruffling it, so it sits normally. You do a small spin, smiling as the material drifts around the top of your legs. “You did an incredible job. Thank you so much.”

“Thank you for wearing it so well,” she returns, winking. “Let’s get a few more opinions.”

It isn’t long before the changing room is swarmed with the rest of your team, each one of them wearing garments in various stages of completion. The men are here too—four of them, combining with the five other women and yourself, bringing your team up to an even ten. Each season, your team puts forward various combinations of skaters for the duet, team, and solo events. You’re one of the only skaters competing solo this year—a decision your coach had made as she decided she wants no distractions for you as you try to reach Olympic level. The only other member of your team in a similar position is Tai, your lean, incredibly friendly male counterpart.

Tai saunters across the room, running a hand through his thick black hair. His outfit is deep purple and shimmery, and you wiggle your eyebrows as he does a little spin.

“Pretty sick, right?” he says, shaking a sleeve at you. “I look like Dionysus.”

“So cool,” you compliment. You do a small spin too, smiling widely. “What do you think?”

“Stunning,” Tai returns. He nods to affirm his point. “You’re going to kill it, Y/N. This is your year.”

You smile nervously. “I hope so,” you reply. You take a tight breath. “I really hope so.”

Before the conversation can continue, there’s the slamming of a door opening, followed by an approaching wall of noise—men, talking loudly, a few of them hollering. You raise an eyebrow towards Tai, who scowls.

“Saturday night,” he says. “The team are in the playoffs.”

“Wait, is it a home game?”

Tai nods. “Starts in twenty,” he says. His frown intensifies. “They’re so loud. Idiots.”

You watch from your position on the dressing podium as flashes of white, green and orange pass by the open door. It’s the hockey team, alongside their coaches and their managers. They walk determinedly in the direction of the hockey changing room where you presume they’re going for a pre-game pep talk. You can’t stop yourself from scanning the crowds, looking for Tom. When you fail to seek him out, you feel your heart pang sadly in your chest.

“Y/N?” Tai’s looking at you, amused. “Are you okay?”

You swallow, then nod. “Yeah,” you mutter. “Just tired.”

He hums, eyes wide and sympathetic. “Me too. It’s been a busy week, hasn’t it?”

It’s easy to agree. At this point in the season, with so few weeks to go before the competition begins, you’re at the rink every day.

“Absolutely.”

You stifle a yawn. Your eyes flutter back across the changing room, and you see your tired sentiments seem to be shared by the rest of the team. As they slowly start to leave the room, it grows quieter. Tai drifts away, lingering in the corner and talking with Jazzy and Yelena. It isn’t long until you’re the only four people remaining. You spend a few moments taking photos of your fit in the mirror, trying to get in all the angles so you can send them to your family and fuel their excitement about the season. Your actions are interrupted only when there’s a tender knock on the door, and you glance up towards the entrance to see a bulky, padded figure. Tom.

“Uh, hello? The hockey room is across the corridor,” Yelena says, crossing her arms over her chest.

Tom isn’t in his helmet, but he is perched tall on his skates. You’re able to watch as his face twitches with annoyance. He offers a tight smile to Yelena before glancing straight at you, raising a teasing brow.

Chest feeling tight, you step forward, padding quietly towards the door. Your friends are all looking at you, but you’re more preoccupied with Tom and the way his eyes seem to glint as they take you in your form. There’s a small swagger to your step as you watch him shift from leg to leg, his cheeks warm and red, eyes full of appreciation as they stick on the curves of your hips, chest, and then your lips. Your suit is tight, and it brings you enjoyment to watch him admire you. He clears his throat as you fall to a stop in front of him.

“Hey,” you say, voice quiet, perplexed. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a game?”

Tom nods. “Yeah,” he says. His tone is darker, and it catches slightly. “I, uh… I wanted to see you.”

You bite your lip, standing a little straighter. “Oh.” You can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Well… Do you like it?” You toy with the hem of your skirt. “It’s my outfit for the competition circuit.”

“Give me a spin, darling.”

You oblige him, feeling slightly giddy as you do yet another rotation. You hear him hum, and when you fall to a stop in front of him again, you’re closer.

“Beautiful.” Tom rubs together his hands, slender fingers gloveless and unaffected by the imminent game. He rocks back on his skates, clicking his tongue as he looks a little apprehensive. “I, uh… I was thinking about what you said last week about never going to a hockey game before.” He pauses to dig through one of his deep pockets, pulling out a few pieces of paper. He offers them to you tentatively. “If you want, I have some spare tickets for tonight’s game. Pretty good seats. My family normally use them, but they’re busy tonight, so…?”

It’s with a mix of shock and gratitude that you nod your head immediately, reaching out to take the tickets. “I’d love to, Tom,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

He grins, face lighting up. “Perfect,” he returns. “Maybe you’ll be my lucky charm.”

Your teeth graze your lower lip, and you smile. “I hope so.”

Tom opens his mouth as if to say more, but then there’s a holler from further down the corridor.

“Dutchy! Five minutes! Hurry up!”

He grimaces, rolling his eyes. “Well, that’s me.”

“Dutchy?” you question.

Tom shrugs, then turns around and extends his thumb over his back to gesture at his jersey. “Holland,” he says. He turns back to look at you, grinning. “Just a nickname.”

You coo. “That’s cute.”

Tom licks his lip. “‘S not the only thing that’s cute.” You barely have time to respond before he’s leaning forward to quickly kiss your cheek. “Have fun!” he says, already on his way down the corridor.

“Good luck!” you return. You can almost feel the ghost of his touch, resting on your face so perfectly.

Tom turns, right at the end of the corridor, and he winks. You don’t realise how tightly you’re holding yourself until he disappears, and your lovestruck muscles unravel.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s hard to explain to Tai and Yelena the relationship you have with Tom, so you just give up after a while. They accompany you to the arena. You manage to change your dress for something more casual, deciding to keep the red lipstick on. Tom’s seats are at the end of the rink, positioned mid-way up the stands. They give you a clear view across the ice.

The atmosphere is electric. You’re surrounded by the home crowd, decked out in replica jerseys, printed scarves, and hats that have Kingston Kites printed all over them. It’s a sea of white, green, and orange, and you can’t stop yourself from slipping out during the first break to buy yourself a scarf—just to support the team, and Tom. The teasing you receive from your friends when you reappear is hard to ignore but mellows out when you procure a bag of Maltesers you’d also bought from the stand.

And Tom… Tom.

Tom’s incredible. You can’t keep your eyes off him. The silhouette of his padded figure feels like it’s burnt to your memory. When he’s on the ice, he’s magnificent, commanding the space well, grunting and spinning as he plays. When he’s waiting for his turn on the bench with his team, he’s focused and calm. His eyes are sharp and intense, glinting almost black beneath the harsh rink lighting as they follow the puck across the ice. You find yourself admiring everything about him—watching the way his cheeks are flushed a rosy red, his jawline sharp and fierce. He’s on fire, passion rolling off every part of him, and, quite honestly, it’s incredibly attractive.

Tom’s explained the basic rules of hockey to you a few times, but there’s a stark difference between him telling you, quietly, how line rotations work and actually seeing them in action on a scale like this. The players swap out every minute, only staying on the ice for a short burst of energy as they chase the puck around. Tom, holding the loose position of centre forward, goes wherever needed, carving up the ice like it’s his one task in life. You’re high in the stands, but even from so far, you’re able to see the determination and the passion burning in his eyes.

The game is brutal. By the time it reaches the third and final twenty-minute segment, the score is tied 2-2. You watch, on tenterhooks, as Tom jumps the barrier on the side of the rink, swapping in for one of the players and taking his spot on the ice.

He’s antsy, as are the rest of the team. You know it’s an important match, and if they want a chance at continuing to the next stage of the competition, they need the result to swing in their favour. Your eyes are wide, fingers curled into fists as you watch Tom cut up the ice. The helmet on his head protects his skull, but you can make out a few strands of dark brown hair sticking out, and you find yourself struck with the very prominent and aching thought that you’d quite like to play with it.

The puck ends up at your end of the rink, and the Kingston Kites take on a defensive strategy as their opponents try to put pressure on the goalie and get in another shot. You find your eyes trained directly on Tom and startle as you catch him looking up at you. Through panting breaths, his lips quirk into a brief, tight smile of recognition, but then it sours as his eyes slip beside you and look at Tai. Your friend is sitting to your right, his arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders, and you’re casually leaning into his side. It’s entirely platonic, but you don’t miss the way Tom’s eyebrows shoot up as his gaze hardens and his jaw sets with determination.

The whole interaction lasts less than a second, but as Tom refocuses on the game and hurtles after the puck, he seems more aggravated. You sit forward, gaining a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as you shrug off Tai and stare at Tom. Your eyes follow him as he goes in hard, trying to wrestle the puck out from beneath his opponent’s stick. It looks to be a bit of a mess, and you hear everyone in your section gasp as Tom roughly elbows the other guy. He goes spinning with a yelp, and the referee blows on the whistle, pausing the game. There are a few yells of ‘Dutchy’, coupled with disgruntled hollering from the people around you as they question the referee’s decision to pause.

“Fucking hell,” Yelena murmurs, leaning forward on her elbows and staring across the ice. “Your guy is crazy.”

You suck in a breath, watching as the referee points at the penalty box and Tom stomps towards it. You can almost see the frustrated steam pouring from his ears.

“He’s… passionate.” You bite your lip. Somehow, you feel responsible for his outburst.

“Shit,” Tai mutters. He too leans forward, until all three of you are sitting there, elbows on your knees, staring at the penalty box. “That’s kind of hot.”

Your throat feels dry as you watch Tom throw his stick on the ground of the penalty box. Given all the walls are made of plastic, you have an unobstructed view as he pulls off his helmet and tosses it on a seat too. He marches a few paces up and down, speaking angrily to himself, his expression one of pure irritation. When he finally sits down, he runs a gloved hand through his hair, pushing away the sweaty strands that stick so deliciously to the top of his flushed forehead. You watch, your breath light and shallow, as Tom jerks off the glove and shoves his fingers into his mouth, pulling out his mouthguard before picking up a bottle and squirting a long stream of water into his open mouth.

“Fuck,” you murmur, eyes transfixed. There’s a heat in the pit of your stomach, building as you take in the way Tom’s glowing with a mix of exertion and anger. The match is continuing back on the ice, but you can’t stop looking at the hot flush of his cheeks and the angry lines of his flexed brows and curved jaw. “It is.”

A minute passes, and Tom slowly seems to chill out. It’s only as the seconds fall down into the 30s that he finally seems to release his tension, fixing his mouthguard, and his glove before glancing up at the stands. You’re surprised when, again, he looks directly at you, his entire demeanour shifting when he sees the concern in your eyes. His features soften, lips losing their angry frown and mellowing into a warmer smile, and you watch as his gaze grows fonder.

Yelena hits at your knee immediately. “He’s in love with you,” she announces, certainty in her voice.

You can’t stop looking at Tom, not even when he breaks contact with a wink and shoves his helmet back on.

“Shut up,” you murmur. “He’s not. We’re just friends.”

Tai cackles. “Fuck off,” he says. “Yelena’s right. Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

You sit up, glaring at him. “Like what?”

He smirks. “Like you want to jump each other.”

It’s hard to dispute that one, so instead, you just cross your arms over your chest and stare back at the ice. “You’re wrong, but okay.”

Yelena nudges your side. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Hmm?”

“Stay behind after the match and ask him.”

You swallow nervously, briefly looking at her. “But what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not,” she promises. “But… If I am, I’ll let you style my hair for the rest of the season.”

Your eyes light up, and the way that Yelena smirks, you can tell she knows the offer is too good to refuse.

“Fine,” you agree. Your eyes shift back to Tom, watching as he vaults back over the barrier and joins his team. Apparently they’ve forgiven him for the penalty, as he’s welcomed back with firm pats on the back, and you can see his blinding smile from across the rink. “I’ll do it.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

The Kingston Kites win the match, and the arena is quick to empty. You part ways with your friends as they head home and you end up wandering the changing rooms as you try to hype yourself up. There’s a text from Tom waiting on your phone, simply asking how you’d liked the game, so you respond and tell him that you’d much rather go over it in person. After agreeing to meet him outside his locker room, it’s just a waiting game.

You reapply your lipstick and mess around with your hair to kill the time. It’s a little eerie being alone in the skating changing rooms, and as time passes, you hear fewer people hovering around the arena as the players slowly leave the building. It’s hard not to get stuck in your head as you think about your plan to confess your feelings, so you end up pacing in the long corridor that winds between the skating changing rooms and the hockey locker room.

The corridor is bright white and decorated with various sporting memorabilia. Autographed jerseys, shining medals, and printed photographs hang framed on the walls. On your side of the corridor, you catch glimpses of yourself, wearing a tracksuit and hugging your friends, showing off your medals, mid-action on the ice… It makes you proud to see that your team has placed you so frequently in the collage, and you feel a swell of bittersweet gratitude in your chest as you look at snapshots of competitions gone by.

On the other side of the corridor is a similar spread for the hockey team. You stroke at your chin as you examine this season’s photos, skimming your eyes over the group shot and trying to spot the people that you know. When you see Tom, dead centre, grinning widely, it makes you smile.

“—I’m just saying, Dutch, something was going on with you tonight. It can’t happen again. We can’t have you losing focus at this stage in the competition.”

The sound of a gruff voice drifting up the corridor makes you startle, and you glance down to see two figures emerging from the locker room—Tom, and one of his coaches. Tom has traded his gear for a pair of blue jeans and a loose black hoodie, and you watch as he nods and looks at his coach with wide-eyed respect.

“Of course, Spike,” he responds, voice clear, open. “It won’t.”

You watch as Spike sighs, then gives Tom a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Good lad.” He walks back, then makes the okay sign with his fingers. “Your final goal was phenomenal, though. More of that next game, and less time in the penalty box. Got it?”

“Yes, coach.”

“Good. See you tomorrow.”

Tom grunts and the two separate. You watch as he tugs on the front strings of his backpack before turning, his face lighting up as he spots you, leaning against the wall. He quickly strides towards you, footsteps echoing against the cold passage.

“Hey,” Tom calls out, voice bouncing down the hall.

There’s an uncontrollable smile on your face as you stand up and walk to meet him halfway. Tom instinctively wraps you in a hug, lips catching on your cheek when he pulls away.

“Hi,” you reply, voice shy. Tom smells of shower gel and mint, his curls a little damp and darker than usual. “Congrats on the win.”

Tom smirks, nodding as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Thanks, love. Did you enjoy it?”

You release a short laugh. If enjoyment equates to found it incredibly erotic, then, of course, the answer is,

“Yes. Loved it.�� You tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Did you get in trouble for the penalty box?”

He winces, grimacing at you with his teeth glinting. “A bit,” he admits. “Doesn’t matter though, ‘cos I scored a goal after. I just need to, um… Not do it again.”

The air between you is thicker, and you find yourself swallowing as you note the way Tom’s looking at you, eyes hungry.

“What happened?” You say, testing the waters tentatively. “You seemed fine, and then you got… Fired up.”

Tom swallows. “I… Just got tetchy.” He clears his throat. “Who, uh… Who were you at the match with?”

You smirk, realising that your hypothesis was right. “My friends. Yelena and Tai. They’re on the team with me.”

“Friends?” Tom confirms, expression perking up.

“Yeah. Friends.”

He steps closer. “Did they like the game?” he asks.

“Yeah. They thought you were hot.”

Tom chuckles, briefly glancing at the floor before drawing his eyes back to you. They linger on your lips, and your breath hitches as he tentatively, testingly reaches out and places his hands on your hips. When you sink into it, he grows bolder, pulling you closer until your faces are near. You love the way his hands feel as they rest on your waist.

“Did you?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you think I was hot?”

It’s hard to concentrate when Tom’s standing so close to you, looking at you with his eyes so intense, but somehow you manage to wrap your arms around his neck and nod. “Yeah,” you admit. You toy with his curls, giving them a short tug when he groans enjoyably. “I always think you’re hot.”

Tom wears his smirk so well that it’s almost infuriating.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he asks, fingers softly caressing your sides. When you squeak out a noise of affirmation, Tom lets his nose brush up against yours. He swallows deeply, nervousness mixing with his teasing. “I think you’re stunning, too. All the time, but especially tonight, when you were sitting up there, wearing a team scarf and watching me play.”

“Oh,” you murmur. It’s hard to maintain eye contact with him when there’s so much going on in the depths of his gaze that it dizzies you. “Thank you.” Growing a little bolder, you let your fingers glide up, tangling in the ends of his hair. “It was fun watching you play. You’re really talented, Tom.”

His nose is still cold against yours, and you let your eyes fall shut as he slowly traces patterns over your sides.

“Thanks, darling.”

Instinctively, and embarrassingly, you feel a shiver roll down your spine as the pet name falls from his lips. Usually, you’d be able to play it off from the cold, or like you’re stretching a muscle, but he’s holding you so close that you’re sure he felt it.

“Tom,” you say, voice hushed. You feel safe in his arms, you feel loved in his arms, but your skin is still crawling with built-up desire. There’s an ache in your chest that burns brighter with each second he lingers so close, but yet remains so far. “Do you want to…”

“What, sweetheart?”

Again, your breath catches. You hear Tom release a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, his lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as his lips, warm and slightly chapped, explore your own.

It’s a little fumbly, and it takes a few moments for you to learn the slopes of his face so intimately, but once you’ve both readjusted and altered your positions, it’s quick to heat up. Tom’s fingers grip your waist tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into his hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, you feel him slip his tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.

You end up against the cool brick wall, making out like you’re both teenagers again. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too. You moan softly as Tom pulls away from your mouth, his attention shifting to your neck. As you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to him, you whimper as you feel his lips drag over your exposed skin. He nibbles and suckles until he finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.

“Fuck,” you whimper. You tug on his air-dried curls, coaxing him back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of his mouth on yours. Tom sighs, and you can feel him smiling into it.

There are noises, coming from further down the hall, and when they increase in volume, Tom reluctantly pulls back from your mouth. He links your hands together and swings them through the air, looking up to meet your eyes. His face is cute, lips puffy and red, eyes dancing with hope.

“D’you want to—”

“Oi, Dutchy!”

You jump as a holler comes from down the hall, echoing off the vast brick walls. Tom’s expression shifts, his lips pursing as he glances down the corridor. He turns away from you to yell back.

“What?”

You think it’s Osterfield, one of Tom’s friends. He too is dressed casually, standing tall with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“We’re going out! Don’s got us the VIP section down at the Grove. C’mon!”

Tom looks torn, a ripe line carved out between his brows. He glances back at you, biting his lower lip.

“Go,” you urge, smiling softly. “Celebrate with your team.”

He frowns slightly. “Come with us?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No, it should just be you guys.” As much as you like Tom, you can’t think of anything worse than going on a night out with the entire loud, boisterous hockey team. You smile encouragingly when you see the turmoil in his eyes. “You deserve it.”

“Are you sure? Because I can stay here, and we can—”

You lean up, moving your hands back down to his shoulders as you kiss him very softly. “Go,” you urge, whispering against his thin lips.

Tom leans into you, keeping your lips pressed until you can feel him smiling into it. He begrudgingly steps back. “Thank you,” he says, “for coming to the game. And being so lovely.” His lips quirk a little taller. “And for letting me kiss you.”

“Well, it didn’t take much convincing.” You cross your arms over your chest and lean back against the wall, your figure feeling colder without Tom’s touch. His eyes run the lines of your face, gaze warm and comforting.

“Have a nice night,” he says. There’s still hesitation on his face, so you step forward and kiss his cheek before gently pushing his shoulder.

“You too” you respond. Tom finally walks away, but only after shooting you a wink.

You lean back against the wall, pulling out your phone and staring at the blank screen as you discreetly keep your focus on Tom. When he reaches the end of the corridor, Osterfield thumps him on the back and murmurs something unintelligible which earns him a shove into the doorway as the two friends leave together. Tom glances back just before disappearing, and you smile at him as he waves his hand playfully.

Once alone, you release a tight sigh of contentment. You deflate, sagging against the wall as you feel your heart beating faster in your chest. Absently, one of your hands drifts up, fingertips resting on the outline of your lips. Your mouth is still warm from Tom’s kisses, and your heart feels a little softer, too.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You don’t see him for a while, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t constantly on your mind. At some point, Tom adds you to his private Instagram story, and it feels like a gentle confirmation that he feels the same way as you. You stay in constant contact, and he starts to send you more memes and silly texts each evening. The smile on your lips barely fades, and every time your phone lights up with a new text from him, you get excited.

Unfortunately, the high doesn’t last forever. All too soon, it’s a week before your first competition, and the good feeling finally goes away. As extended practices cut into your life, you’re left frazzled and stressed, trying to balance your team’s expectations against your own personal competitiveness. It doesn’t help that your ankle is giving you grief again.

“No, no, no. You’re better than this, Y/N! Stop cutting the spin too early. You have to extend it into the end of the beat!”

It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re exhausted. The bags beneath your eyes hang heavy, and every manoeuvre you try to execute just seems to leave you worse than before. You’re cold on the ice, and your bones are chilled from fatigue and stress. Everything aches, and try as you might, you can’t land the final ten seconds of your routine. Your coach has forced you to go over it again and again, minutes blurring to hours as your frustration festers.

“It’s not working,” you call back, reaching up to tug on your hair. Your coach is leaning against the rink barrier, resting on her elbows as she watches you, pursed lips.

“Do it again,” she encourages. “Faster!”

You grit your teeth, skating back into the centre of the ice. The music starts again, and you run through the entire final section, nailing the parts that you know. Yet, as you reach the big finish, you falter. You end up flat on the ice, frustrated tears burning your eyes as your ankle throbs. As the track cuts out again, you hear your coach’s loud sigh, carrying across the ice.

“Pack it in. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

You grimace as you climb back to your feet, wincing slightly.

“I can do it again,” you call back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You want to. You have to.

Your coach shakes her head, lips set in a firm line. “You can’t,” she responds. “You’re worn out and making mistakes. Your injury won’t sustain you.” She pauses to shake her head. “This isn’t what any of us want, Y/N, but you need to rest.”

Your fingernails dig into your palms as you grit your teeth. “But—”

“No. Go home.” Your coach pushes off from the barrier, shaking her head. When you fail to move, she turns back, arching a brow. “Go.”

A string of irritated cuss words falls quietly from your lips as you reluctantly skate from the centre of the rink. Your fingers go to your cheeks, wiping away the cool tears that fall from frustration. It’s a private session, but a few of your team are hanging around. Their sympathetic smiles and gentle arm pats make you bristle, and you’re silently seething as you stomp over to one of the benches and throw yourself onto it, groaning.

You lie down and stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to focus on your breathing. It’s just one bad training session. You’ve landed the end section of your routine plenty of times before. It’s just a bad day.

…But it’s also a bad day, one week before the first rounds of competitions, where a performance like the one you just gave would have you finishing in last place, your Olympic dreams crumbling to pieces.

You close your eyes, clenching your hands into fists as you stretch out over the bench. Your teammates know to give you space, so you aren’t sure why you feel a shadow falling across your face. You ignore it for a few moments, putting it down to someone unknown peering at you fleetingly, but when it persists, you pry an angry eye open.

“What— Tom?”

For the second time, you find yourself surprised by his presence. Tom is standing beside your bench, swallowed by a deep green hoodie with a blue denim jacket pulled over the top of it. In his hands are a stack of papers and his eyes are full of concern.

“Hi,” Tom says quietly, looking a little embarrassed. His cheeks are dusted light pink. You wonder how long he’s been staring at you for. “Are you okay? I, uh… I saw the end of your training.”

You feel rigid and breakable as his eyes pool with warmth, his gaze like tender sunbeams. When he steps closer and presses a gentle hand to your shoulder, your stress bubbles over. As you bring your knees to your chest, you press the side of your face into them, blinking up at him as a few tears skate down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, cooing softly. “Don’t cry, darling.”

Tom gently coaxes you up the bench and sits behind you, throwing a leg either side of the wood to straddle it. You let him pull you back into him, his arms feeling warm and strong as he hugs you tightly from behind. He burrows his face into your neck, warm hands going up to cup your cheeks as his fingertips carefully flick your tears away.

“I’m not sad,” you murmur, swallowing back another wave of tears. “I’m just annoyed.”

“I know.” Tom pauses, and you take a moment to breathe in the scent of fresh laundry. “It’s the most frustrating thing in the world when you can’t get something right. But if you work yourself into the ground, you won’t ever be able to do it.”

“But- but what if I want to work myself into the ground,” you mutter, causing him to chuckle.

“Then you’d be silly.” Tom kisses your cheek, his lips warm and light. “And you’re not silly. You’re the strongest athlete that I know, Y/N. You just need to let other people look after you. Let… Let me look after you.”

Your breath hitches and slowly, you pull your face away from your knees. You stretch your legs out in front of you and turn to look at Tom, curiosity in your gaze as you think about how close he’s holding you, and how passionately he’s speaking to you.

“Thank you,” you say, voice quiet. A shy smile curls across your lips.

Tom hums. His hands fall down to your shoulders, and he gently squeezes your arms. “Go have a shower,” he says. “You’ll feel better, and then I’ll look after you some more.”

You reach out, fingers twirling around the strings of his hoodie. “You’re too nice to me,” you murmur, shyly ducking away from his gaze. “How are you so perfect?”

He laughs, the sound so ripe and joyful that it brings warmth back to your chest.

“I’m not,” Tom disputes. “I just care about you.”

You hum, and before you can lose your cool, you lean in and softly kiss him. Tom’s still for a moment, but then he pushes closer, gently and delicately kissing you back. His hands swoop down to hold your waist, lightly stroking over your sides. When you pull away a few moments later, you feel steadier.

“Hmm,” you say, mind running slow, ensnared by the glimmers of warmth in his eyes. “I like kissing you.”

Tom chuckles, nose brushing yours. “I like kissing you too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It turns out that Tom’s right—you do feel better after having a shower. As you find yourself in the deserted skating changing rooms, the sight of your troubles being swirled away down the plughole releases a large part of your stress. The hot water coaxes your good mood back, and it continues, even when you have to wrap up your ankle again.

By the time Tom reappears, knocking gently on the changing room door before entering, you feel better. You’ve changed clothes, washed your hair, cleansed yourself of all the bad energy that had clogged you up. You feel like you again.

“I got this for you,” Tom announces. He holds a disposable cup in his hand and presents it to you with a grin. “Hot chocolate, for m’lady.”

You roll your eyes as you accept it, looking up at him with gratitude warming your chest. “Thanks, Tom.”

He glances down, eyes taking in your form. You’re again stretched out on a bench, one of your legs bent at the knee, the other laying out in front of you. A few bandages hang around, and Tom looks at them curiously.

“How’s your ankle?” he asks, chewing on his lower lip as he stares at your fluffy sock.

“It’s okay,” you reply. “I braced it. Should be alright as long as I take it easy.”

Tom nods, then very slowly walks to the end of the bench. He runs his index finger down the bottom of your leg, his touch light but warm. You’re in a skirt, your legs bare and exposed, and as you take in the mischievous glint in his eye, you wonder what he has in mind.

“Y/N,” Tom starts, voice gentle. His fingertips play around with the top of your sock as he looks up at you from beneath his lashes. “Can I kiss it better?”

You’re breathing a little lighter as you look at him. “Yeah,” you agree. “Go ahead.”

Tom kneels on the floor, settling beside the bench with ease. With gentle fingers, he rolls down the top of your sock, just far enough so he’s able to leave a very soft kiss to your tender skin. He doesn’t linger there too long, his eyes fixed to your face, but his lips don’t leave you, either. Very carefully, taking his time, Tom starts to drop kisses to your skin. He gradually works his way further up your leg, dusting warm, open-mouthed kisses from your ankle to your shin, then your knee.

You shift on the bench as Tom starts to come higher, one of your hands drifting down to rest in his curls. You put the disposable cup on the floor as you watch him. There’s a heat slowly building in the pit of your stomach, and with each meeting of your flesh and Tom’s mouth, it grows more pronounced. It isn’t long before you’re parting your legs, his lips pausing at the bottom of your thigh as he changes from light kisses to deeper, needier sucks. A short whimper travels from your mouth, wobbling into the air as his lips draw the blood to the surface of your skin.

“You’re so pretty,” Tom murmurs, looking up at you from the ground. His eyes are wide, darkened with lust. He splays his hand along your neglected thigh, rubbing gentle circles to the skin. You whimper when he drops his tongue to lap over one of the marks he’s pulled to the surface of your skin. “Do you want me to go any higher?” His voice is raspy.

The space between your legs is throbbing, and immediately you nod. “The, uh, the door,” you murmur, voice shaking. Tom presses a final kiss to your inner thigh before standing up. He winks at you before jogging to the changing room door, easily flicking the lock, then coming back towards you. “Are you, um… Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Tom grins. He sinks down to his knees beside your head, his hands tugging the bottom of your legs. You sit up on the edge of the bench and turn as your thighs open over his shoulders. Tom kneels between them, his bed of brown curls complementing your skin tone nicely. He presses a kiss to your neglected leg before his hands carefully skim up to play with the hem of your skirt.

“I wouldn’t mind one bit,” he replies, his voice a little darker. He tilts his head as he meets your gaze, smirking softly. “I’d really like to. Do you want to know a secret, darling?” Tom’s fingers slide up, his index and his middle making contact with the front of your panties. As he traces delicately over the front of your core, small arcs of pleasure roll out from your centre. The way his lips twitch taller makes you wonder if he can feel the way your cunt seems to throb.

“Yeah,” you respond, voice light. A whimper passes through your lips as Tom applies a little more pressure to your covered clit, your hips gyrating down to meet his fingertips in response.

He pulls back, only to push your skirt out of the way, tutting quietly when you mewl.

“Been wondering what you’d taste like for ages, love,” he coos. He uses his grip on your thighs to pull you closer, and you moan when he buries his head between your legs. Your panties are still on, but that doesn't stop Tom from nosing up against your slit, hot breath fanning out across your warmth. When he draws his tongue over the front of your panties, you release a breathless whine. “Bet it tastes as pretty as you are.”

You reach down and bury your hand back into his curls, pulling Tom closer as he ghosts his tongue over the front of your panties. He’s lapping lightly up your slit, the pleasure muted but still there, and your eyes fall shut as the muscles in your thighs tense.

“Fuck, Tom,” you whine, feeling your cunt pulse. “Take them off. I need more.”

His nimble fingers are quick to follow your instructions, and as soon as your hips are falling back to the bench, his mouth is on you. You cry out as you finally feel him, the pleasure direct and far greater than you’d expected. Tom devours you, using both of his thumbs to press your lips apart as his tongue travels all over your heat. He spends a while focusing on your clit, the tip of his tongue firm and unrelenting, but when you start to whine a little louder, he teases you by drawing away. He flattens his tongue and licks a few broad strokes up your centre, moaning against you until you’re fisting at his hair and shaking.

“Fuck,” you whine, voice barely there. “Feels so good.”

Tom’s complete attention is on you and your eyes roll back when he teases your entrance with his mouth. One of his thumbs rolls up to toy with your clit as he pushes his tongue into you, your walls throbbing as he explores you. You push him deeper, obscenities mixing with slurred acclamations of his name, and it’s as though you can feel your pulse hammering in your head.

“Knew it. Tastes like fucking heaven,” Tom murmurs, pulling away from your entrance to shoot you a smirking smile. He brings two fingers to your pussy and teases you there, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead when you moan and rut down against them, taking agency and fulfilling your desires. “Shit, baby. You’re so wet.” He fucks your heat, eyes moving off your face and fixing on the mess between your legs as he coos. “I can feel you clenching around my fingers. Does that feel good?”

“Yeah,” you whine. When Tom drops his head and wraps his lips back around your clit, you cry out. “Getting so close,” you say, words tangling together as your chest heaves. You feel so hot, your body trembling as your edge hangs in sight. “Keep going, f-fuck, Tom. You’re so good.”

He adds a third finger to your heat, and your jaw slackens. Tom changes the angle of his digits a few times before curling them just right, and he continues to stroke up against your g-spot as you cry out. You stammer out a few words of warning, and he moans in response. The vibrations of the sound coupled with the way his tongue is applying the perfect amount of warm, sloppy pressure to your clit push you over the edge. As you peak, you fall back onto your elbows, tightening your grip on his hair as your pussy throbs, taking wave after wave of pleasure as it rocks across you and smothers you.

Tom doesn’t stop until you’ve ridden it out completely and you’re sensitive. With a push at his hair, you coax him away, still trying to gather yourself as your throat feels dry. The expression of cocky fulfilment hanging from his lips makes you shiver, and you almost moan again as you take in the sight of his chin, glistening with your arousal.

“How was that?” he asks, cleaning his chin with the back of his hand. Tom carefully stands up, still looking at you as he leans back and picks up a box of tissues from one of the benches. He passes a few to you then leans back against one of the lockers, looking at you admiringly with his arms crossed.

“Really good,” you manage, voice still a little hoarse. You clear your throat and ignore his chuckle as you take care of the mess between your legs with a tissue. Your eyes soften when you look back to him. “Thank you.”

Tom just nods, taking the used tissues and binning them before making a quick stop by a sink to wash his hands. When he strolls back over, he stands in front of you and cups your cheeks in his palms. You stare up at him, smiling as he meets your eyes.

“Glad I could make you feel nice,” he says, voice soft. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Now… If you have time, I want to take you home. Run you a nice bath, make you some lunch. Make sure you’re looking after yourself.”

You feel your face warm as you listen to his musings, and find yourself biting the inside of your cheek. “You’d want to do all that for me?”

Tom nods. His hands run over your face, fingertips gently caressing your cheekbones. It’s as if he’s examining you, trying to ensure that you’re okay, that you’re safe, that you’re happy. It makes your heart soar.

“‘Course, darling. I care about you a lot.”

You tilt your head to the side so you can kiss the inside of his palm. “Okay,” you agree. You stand up, wincing slightly as your ankle disagrees with taking your weight. Tom’s hands move down to hold your waist, steadying you. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You start to walk, only to look back at him and glare jokingly. “Can’t believe you ruined my underwear,” you say. “Feels fucking freezing without them on.”

Tom arches a brow, picking up his bag and slinging it over his back before catching up to you. “Um, I think technically it was you who ruined your underwear.”

You scrunch up the tip of your nose, only for your scowl to melt when he kisses it. When you reach the door, you undo the lock and open it, letting Tom through before following him out into the corridor.

“Whatever,” you reply, sinking into his side. His hand is warm in yours, your fingers tangled together nicely. “Worth it.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s noisy in the arena.

With the final match of the season underway and the league title up for grabs, the atmosphere is electric. The stands are packed, frenzied by the presence of the large broadcasting cameras that stream the match live to thousands online. Sitting in the home section, the noise seems louder than it would be elsewhere in the arena. Everyone around you is as invested in the result as you are, and as the energy rises and falls, you feel connected to the mass of strangers around you. You know that they share the ache in your fingers built from the tight clenching of your knuckles into fists, and the strain of your eyes as you spend too long staring at the bright white ice.

The score is 4-4. The players from both teams have been giving some of the most convincing performances of their careers. It’s been close all match.

You hadn’t been sure that you’d be able to make the game, your own days filled with the later stages of your competition, but you’re glad you managed to swing it. Tom needs you.

He’s skating well. He’d assisted one of the team’s goals, and managed to subvert several other shots on goal attempted by his rivals. Tom looks as handsome as ever, face flushed, eyes focused, figure bulked wide with protective padding, but you know he’s nervous. He’s looking up at you more than usual, his teeth gritted together, and his jaw tensed. It’s clear just how much the title means to him.

It’s been a few weeks since Tom came and picked you up after your meltdown at practice, and since then, your feelings for him have escalated. You think it must be a form of torture to watch someone you care about so much getting pushed around, and injured, and hurt on the ice, knowing you can’t do anything but sit and watch it play out in front of you. Every time he gets slammed up against one of the plastic wall barriers, you wince, almost feeling the pain yourself, and despite him always brushing it off and getting on with the game, you worry for him.

“Fucking hell. That looks like it hurts.”

Beside you is Harry, one of Tom’s brothers. You’d met him before the match when Tom had thrust a ticket at you and told you that he’d wrestled it off one of his other brothers. Your guilt had been assuaged when you’d been told that Paddy finds the finals too stressful to sit through. Harry’s been entertaining you all evening, acting as a buffer between you and his parents, who make you feel nervous being so close to.

“Shit,” you agree. You wince as Tom gets barged into and goes spiralling across the ice, only stopping when one of his teammates catches him. “This is actually brutal.”

Harry makes a low humming noise. He turns to glance at you, then he hesitantly reaches down to pat your knee.

“He’ll be fine, though, Y/N,” he says, speaking a little awkwardly. “It’s uh… just part of the job. He’s used to it. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s broken his nose.”

You hum as you think about the wonky lines of Tom’s face. “True,” you agree. You pull your team scarf further around your figure, snuggling into it in search of relief. “Just isn’t nice to see him hurt.”

Harry makes a humming sound of agreement and releases your leg with a final pat. The game continues, and before you know it, they’re into the last third. As the clock ticks down from 20 minutes, things are tense. Tom blurs with the rest of the team, and your eyes skim around all the figures, moving and spinning across the ice like it’s choreographed. There’s something quite beautiful about how they’re able to execute formations and manoeuvres amidst such chaos.

Your eyes stick to the back of Tom’s jersey, screaming Holland in bright orange. He’s closing in on an opponent, trying to steal the puck with gritted teeth. The air leaves your lungs as the scene plays out in slow motion, your eyes widening to the size of gold coins as you watch the larger man smack the puck with ferocity, attempting a shot on goal before Tom manages to steal it. Instead of the puck flying near the goal, the angle flicks it to the side, and the entire section around you gasps as it soars through the air and collides with Tom’s face. His eyes are fine, given the visor on his helmet, but his nose is exposed, and it bears the brunt.

Your heart stills for a moment, the volume of the arena fading out completely as you see Tom go down, clutching at his nose as a trail of blood drips over the ice. There’s the sound of a whistle, and you only start to breathe again when you see one of Tom’s teammates haul him from the rink. His blood freezes to the ice, leaving a trail of dark marks staining the ground behind him.

“Fuck, fuck,” you find yourself saying, finally tearing your eyes away from Tom to stare at Harry. Tom’s brother is wincing. “What do we do?”

Harry shrugs, grimacing. You look back to the ice to where Tom’s being dragged on his skates back to the team bench. You can see him smiling, but it's indisputable that he’s in pain. You can see it in his eyes, and the way his blood mixes with the salty blend of aching tears. “Can’t really do anything,” he says. “Told you his nose gets it.” Harry pauses for a moment, then gently elbows your side. “You could go down, though. They’ll probably do a quick fix in the tunnel. I doubt he’ll want to be benched for the rest of the match.”

You nod stiffly, but find yourself hesitating. “Are you, uh, sure that he’d want that? It wouldn’t be annoying?” When Harry turns to raise an eyebrow, you chuckle nervously. “I don’t want to knock him out of the zone, y’know?”

Harry’s eyes fill with understanding, but you think you can still detect a layer of teasing to it. “My brother is actually obsessed with you,” he says. “He watches compilation videos from your competitions every single bloody night. Even if you broke his heart, I doubt he’d ever be able to find you annoying. So…” Harry pokes your shoulder. “Get down there, alright?”

You shoot him a smile, unable to pretend that his words don’t warm your heart.

The game is still paused, yet you hurry down the aisle, stepping over trays of discarded nachos and half-filled plastic pints of beer as you utter words of apology to the disgruntled fans. Moving quickly, you dodge up and enter one of the back stairwells, flashing your team ID at security. The arena is a complex system of back corridors and passages, but you know them inside out.

You reach the long corridor that connects the changing rooms to the ice, and you see Tom standing in the middle of it. He’s surrounded by people—doctors, his coach, a few reserve players. Out in the arena, you hear the game pick up, but back here, time is standing still.

“Stay still,” one of the medics says. Tom grumbles something before yelling out a light curse word. The closer you walk, the more you see. Tom’s holding a bunch of stained tissues to the bottom of his nose as the medic quickly bandages his bridge. It’s not advised for him to go back on the ice with a broken nose—but you also know that with ten minutes left on the clock, the patchy fix-it job probably won’t cause permanent damage. You quite like Tom’s wonky nose, anyway.

“He’s such a twat,” Tom grumbles, wincing again. “Did he get benched?”

“Yeah. Penalty.”

“Good.” Tom folds his arms over his chest. When the medic pulls away to dig through his bag of bandages, Tom glances up the corridor. His eyes widen as he sees you, and you watch him do a double-take. When you raise a hand in greeting, his face softens. “Y/N?”

“Hi,” you call out, stepping closer. “Is it okay I’m here? I, um… I was worried.”

He nods, only to receive a scolding from the medic. Smiling sheepishly, Tom beckons you closer. He offers you a hand, gloveless and cold, and you hurry forward to take it.

“‘Course,” he murmurs. Now close, you’re able to see the flecks of dried blood on his face. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he says, speaking softly as if he knows how frazzled you feel. “Happens all the fucking time.”

“Mmm. Harry said so.”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? How is he? Looking after you?”

You chuckle. “He’s funny,” you say. You roll your thumb over the back of Tom’s knuckles as he winces again, the medic pushing his ice pack out of the way so he can dab a wet tissue at Tom’s nostrils. You realise that his nose has stopped bleeding.

“Funnier than me?”

“Never.” You squeeze Tom’s hand. “You’re doing well out there.”

“Thanks, darling.” Tom glances away from you, looking back at the medic as he finally steps away to gather his stuff. “Can I-?”

“Yes,” the medic confirms. “Just don’t touch anyone. The second you’re done, come find me and I’ll fix you properly.”

Tom nods, then bites back a noise of pain. “Thanks, Doc,” he murmurs. Tom looks back to you, dropping his voice as you’re left alone with him. “I, uh, I gotta go,” he says, tilting his shoulder back in the direction of the ice.

“Okay.” You shoot him a soft smile and squeeze his hand before stepping back. “Good luck, Tom. Smash it.”

He pouts slightly, a wedge forming between his brows. “Kiss?”

“Kiss?” you repeat, snorting softly. When Tom nods sadly, you step nearer and press your hands to his shoulders. You lean up and capture his lips in a warm kiss, smiling into it as his palms paw at your waist. For a very brief moment, you get lost in it, overcome by the round lines of his chapped mouth and the heat of his hands, but you force yourself to step back. You can feel how badly he wants to be out on the ice. “Good luck, handsome,” you say, whispering against his lips. You step back and cross your arms, smiling widely as he blushes. “You’ve got this.”

Tom gives you a final nod, eyes alight. “See ya in ten!” he says, before turning on his skates. You stay watching him until he reaches the end of the corridor, and the smile is still on his face as he turns back to grin at you. The arena goes wild as he reappears, and you find yourself biting your lips as you try to control the butterflies in your stomach.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Tom lives about twenty minutes from the arena, and you find yourself waiting on his front step. With your knees pulled to your chin, the chill of a March evening cools your face. You don’t feel the cold much—instead, you’re distracted by the images of the team winning, playing on loop in your mind.

It’s a blur. A snapshot collection of Tom scoring the tie-breaking goal, the sight of the crowd going wild as the final buzzer sounded, the spray of champagne foam sticking to the ice. You’d hung around afterwards, receiving a very messy kiss from Tom who was vibrating from excitement. After a round of celebratory photos, Tom had been hunted down by the medics, and he’d pulled you aside briefly to ask you to meet him here.

You sigh as you stretch your legs out in front of you, looking down at the laces of your shoes and how they contrast the dark cement paving stones. Tom shares his house with Harrison and Harry. You’ve been here a few times, and it feels odd to be here without him.

“Y/N!”

You startle as you look up, so distracted by the loops of your laces that you’d failed to see Tom. He finishes clambering out of a large car, and you think you catch a glimpse of Harry in the front before it goes speeding away from the pavement. Tom approaches, his nose bruised but free of bandages, a wide smirk on his face as he picks up into a light jog. When he reaches you, he sweeps you to your feet, taking your hands firmly and kissing you before you have a chance to say a word. You shiver as he reaches up to cup your cheeks, craving the body heat, sinking into him and the scent of his fresh shampoo.

“You’re shivering,” Tom murmurs, pulling back to stare at you. His eyes widen as guilt shadows his features. “Fuck, how long have you been waiting for me?” He steps back to dig through his pocket, tongue settling between his lips as he hums.

“Ten minutes,” you estimate. When his eyes widen, you shrug bashfully. “Hasn’t been that bad. Next door’s cat came and said hi.”

Tom scowls as he steps past you, driving his key into the front door with ease. “Little ratty thing, isn’t it?” he mutters. He opens the door with a flourish, then steps aside to invite you in. When you walk across the threshold, Tom winds his arms around you from behind, pressing his chin to your shoulder before tilting his lips so he can kiss your cheek. His warm breath fans out across your face. “I’ll warm you up, darling. I’ll make you feel better.”

Ten minutes later, you’re in his bed. Despite his promise of warming you up, you seem to be losing more and more clothes. What had started out as a celebratory kiss has ended in you straddling him, grinding over Tom’s crotch as he gasps into your mouth and grabs at your waist.

You like being on top. It gives you better access to Tom—to the sight of his face constricting with pleasure every time you grind a little harder, and to the sound of his small moans. There’s a shadow along his nose and lining the swell of his cheeks from the break in his nose, and if he wasn’t so tender, you’d try to kiss it better. Instead, you decide to make him feel better in a different way. He’s calmer now than he’d been at the arena when he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you or his lips away from your neck, but the longer you spend making out with him, the more eager he gets. There’s a dark spark in his eyes that matches the fervour in his grip.

“God,” he murmurs to your lips. “You’re such a beautiful girl.”

A hot flush travels through your body, and you shy your face into his neck. You distract him with kisses, dragging your lips over the firm flesh of his warm skin.

“Can I mark you?” you whisper, dragging your lips up to his ear. Tom moans loudly as you move your teeth over his earlobe and bite lightly.

“Fuck yeah,” he murmurs, rolling his hips up against you. You’ve ditched your jeans, and so has he, but where you’re still draped in a shirt, Tom’s chest is bare and exposed. You run your hand over his arm and feel his muscles there as you kiss up the side of his neck. Deep marks follow in the wake of your lips, but they aren’t nearly as pretty as the sound of Tom’s moans. “Fuck, darling. Shit. Feels so good.”

Tom lasts about a minute more before growling and pushing you from his neck. His eyes glint and a shrill squeal leaves your lips as he picks you up and presses you down onto the mattress. As your back sinks into the bed, the slats creak. Tom cages you in with a forearm either side of your head, one of his hands drifting into the ends of your hair as he very lightly rests his nose against yours.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.” Your smile twists a little darker as Tom rolls his hips against yours and you feel his cock straining against his boxers. You reach up to play with his hair, tugging on the strands when Tom moans. His curls are fresh and fluffy, air-dried after the shower and silky smooth to touch. You’ve been together a few times since he ate you out in the changing rooms, and though you’re yet to go all the way, you’ve picked up on a few of his preferences. “Are you okay?”

He isn’t doing much, just staring at you, lips parted. His eyes skitter across the shapes of your face before linking up with your own, and you feel your heart clench in your chest as Tom shifts his hand to cup your cheek.

“Just thinking,” he murmurs. He’s speaking quietly, voice gentle as if he’s being fragile with you. “I, um… I want to ask you something?”

You tilt your head to the side. “Right now?” you ask. To prove your point, you snake a hand down between your bodies and apply pressure to his member with the flat of your palm. Tom groans, eyelashes fluttering out across the top of his cheeks. It seems to take him a lot of self-control to nod, and you feel his hips quiver as he holds himself back from grinding into your hand.

“Yeah.” Tom takes a moment to pause. “We’ve been hanging out for a while, Y/N, and I really like you. I think that you’re so talented. And beautiful. Shit, you’re really beautiful.” He chuckles, his nerves showing on his face. “I can’t imagine being with anyone else. I wouldn’t ever want to be with anyone else. So, darling… Do you want to be my girlfriend?” He pulls back to peer at you, teeth clenched, eyes wide.

A smile breaks out across your face.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Tom,” you whisper. You lean up to kiss him just as he leans down, and you gasp as you accidentally hit Tom’s nose with yours. He groans, pulling up and dramatically falling onto his back as his limbs splay out. “Shit,” you giggle, sitting up and crawling closer. Tom’s pouting, tenderly poking at the edge of his nostril as he grimaces. “Sorry, baby.”

Tom melts, pulling you back on top of him. “Call me baby again and you can do anything you want to me,” he mutters. A small blush finds his face as he comprehends his words, and you end up smiling softly as you settle over his thighs. One of his large hands curls between your legs and you whimper as he teases you over your panties for a few moments. When he finally dips his fingers beneath the silky material, you find yourself whimpering.

“Feels good,” you moan, pressing your hands to Tom’s chest as he rolls two fingers around your slit. You get antsy and grind down against his touch, wriggling up his legs until his fingertips nudge against your hole.

His hair is spread out against the white sheets of the bed, face screwed into an expression of concentration as he curves his digits into your heat. You whimper, tossing your head back as he works you open with ease, brushing up against your g-spot and stimulating it until you’re gasping. As heat slowly begins to take over your body, you reach down to the hem of your shirt and pull it off. Next to go is your bra, and you guide Tom’s other hand to the curve of your breasts as you ride down on his hand.

“Look so pretty up there,” he murmurs, biting at his lip. “Like an angel, or a princess.” Tom skims his thumb over your nipple, smirking as you whine. “My princess.”

You gnaw on your lip for a moment before sitting up, letting Tom’s fingers slip out from you. You reach down and hook your thumbs beneath the material of his boxers, and Tom seems to get the hint.

“I need you,” you say, speaking quickly. You have to roll away to kick off your pants, and by the time you’re ready, Tom’s sitting up again. He slides up to sit against the headboard, fiddling with a condom and sheathing himself before you can spend too long admiring his length.

“C’mere then, lovie,” Tom coaxes. He pumps his cock in his fist a few times before hitting at his thighs, beckoning you forward. His lips kiss your forehead as you straddle him. Blindly, you reach down to cover his hand in yours, and together, you guide his tip to your entrance. Your slit is hot and pulsing, your body worked up from the teasing and the anticipation. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks, voice softer.

You shoot him a teasing look. “Yes,” you emphasise. You bite your lip as you slowly lower yourself onto him, gasping softly. “Been thinking about this for so long, Tom.”

Tom grasps your lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it harshly before flicking it up and stealing your mouth in a deep kiss. You moan as you settle there, in his lap, your walls stretched around him completely. You can feel everything—the curves of his cock, the press of his tip against your velvety walls, the feeling of his skin on yours. You love it.

It’s quick to become hot and intense. Tom’s hands on your waist, your fingers tangled in his hair. The stretch burns to enjoyment before long, and then you’re just lost in it. You feel so bare to him, beyond the fact that your naked bodies are intertwined so closely, like he’s able to see straight through you. For someone who spends so much of his life fighting aggressively, Tom is remarkably soft. His hips are firm, and his thrusts unrelenting, but his lips on your face are warm, and the words of heated affirmation he whispers into your ear make you melt.

“So tight, princess,” Tom moans, grasping at your waist. He kisses you, groaning into your mouth as you continue to ride him. You alternate your movements, swapping between deep bounces and swirling your hips in broad circles so that you get to feel every delicious line, bump and curve of him. “God. Feels like fucking heaven.”

“I know,” you manage, voice hoarse. You’re not embarrassed by the way there are wet sounds of arousal filling the air—it only seems to spur Tom on as he squeezes at your waist.

Things blur quickly. You can tell that he’s wound up from the stress of the game, and his hand is shaking when he reaches up to cup the top of your heat. You’re quick to match his arousal, feeling your own climax jerking closer as Tom brings his thumb down to your clit. You’re aroused, and your slit is wet, so it’s seamless as he toys with the bud.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, the syllables blurring as your eyelids drop closed. It’s hard to tell where your body ends and his begins, but you like it. Tom wraps his other arm around your hip and holds you close, touching his lips to yours as he finally spills.

“You’re so perfect,” he moans, his eyes screwing shut. “Shit, Y/N—”

The action of him throbbing against your walls pushes you over the edge too, and you’re panting into him as warm shivers spread over your entire figure. You’re full of a golden buzz as you stop moving, stilling with his cock still pressed inside you. Tom’s lips come down over the top of your head, following in a line from your forehead down your nose before going to your lips. When he finds your mouth, both of you are smiling.

“Wish we could do that forever,” he murmurs. “Felt amazing, darling. You’re amazing.” There’s a rosy flush to his cheeks, and he looks at you like he’s won the greatest prize of the night. “Stay?”

“Overnight?”

“Yeah. Right here.” Tom reaches out to hit the mattress. “I’ll cuddle you,” he promises. “Make you tea. Bring you breakfast.” He smirks. “Make love to you all night.”

You roll your eyes.

“Okay, boyfriend,” you agree.

Tom raises a brow as if he likes the sound of that, then seals the deal with a softer kiss.

“Perfect.” His hands skim up to cup your breasts, and he pecks your lips a final time. “Girlfriend.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

There’s an hour to go before you skate in the biggest competition of your life. You’re at the largest arena in London, killing time on one of the practice rinks as you try to forget that you’re so close to delivering your final routine of the season. This routine will decide if you come out on top or not and reveal whether you’ve managed to impress the Olympic talent scouts.

You feel a blend of two very fine emotions—confidence and nervousness. You’re prepared, you’re in control, and you’re ready, but that doesn’t make the prospect of going out there any less daunting. Adrenaline soothes the nerves, and distraction is your best friend.

Tom’s sitting on one of the benches, flitting between watching you and messing around on his phone. You’ve learnt that he’s the only person you like to be around before a competition, and in the month you’ve been officially together, he’s become your rock. He seems to get you—understands the way your brain spins when you’re stressed like this, knows when to step near and when to leave you alone. As if sensing your thoughts lie with him, he glances up from his phone.

The month off from competitions has been kind to Tom. He’d had a cracking set of bruises following his broken nose, but they’re healed now, and his skin carries the golden glow of a champion. After mouthing a few words to him from across the ice, you watch him sit up straighter and put his shoes to the bench. Tom had brought his skates to the arena, despite not being the one competing, because he knows, just as you, that sometimes the best way to relax before a competition is to mess around and distract yourself. Sitting beside him is a very large banner, hand-painted, that wears the words, Go Y/N!. He’d made it with the rest of his team, and you’d almost cried when he’d unrolled it and given it to you, grinning with pride like a small child showing off his art project.

You do a few spins as you wait for him, the small practice arena blurring. A few other people are hanging around—mainly your friends, and a few coaches, but none of them pay attention to you. You go so fast that you miss whatever it is Tom scoops up from the bench and then proceeds to hold behind his back, keeping it out of your sight as he skates towards you. A frown finds your lips as you drift nearer, squinting your eyes.

“What’s that?” you ask, trying to make out the object.

Tom juts out his lower lip, eyes dancing teasingly. “Not gonna say hello, darling? That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?”

You shoot him a poisonous look but sigh when he just smirks in response.

“Hello,” you say. You skate forward, planting your hands on both of his cheeks and drawing him in close. Tom’s lips are warmer than yours, and you savour their firm press. When you pull back, you cross your arms over your chest. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes first.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Begrudgingly, you shut your eyes. You hear the rustling of plastic, and then smell the scent of fresh flowers. Tom presses a bouquet into your hands, and your lips twist up at the corners.

“You can open them now.”

It’s a bunch of roses, dark red and delicate. You trail a thumb over their petals, breath caught in the back of your throat. Your boyfriend continues to speak as he watches you.

“You said that no one had ever bought you flowers before,” he explains, voice steady. “I was going to save them for afterwards when you win, but I know you’ll end up being given about a thousand when they all see how talented they are, so I wanted to get in first.”

You look up at him, tears blurring your waterline.

“They’re beautiful, Tom,” you whisper. His confidence in you, and the support he shows you, every single day, means everything to you. He means everything to you. “I love them. I…” You look up, meeting his eyes as you finally speak the words that you’ve felt so strongly but kept tucked away in your heart for fear of rejection. You aren’t scared anymore. “I love you.”

Tom’s eyes widen, his lips briefly parting. There’s a heart-stopping moment when he betrays nothing, but then life twitches across his face. He relaxes, sinking forward to touch your waist as he pulls you closer and brings his lips to yours.

“I love you too, darling,” he says. He’s able to press his nose against yours now, and you feel his cold tip press to your face as you shift the bouquet into one hand and curl the other around his back. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

You smile against him. “It was lucky, wasn’t it? That out of all the people on the rink that day, it was me you managed to crash into.”

Tom chuckles. “Felt less like luck at the time,” he admits. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

You smirk. “I was pretty mad. Can you blame me, though?”

“Nope.” Tom kisses the tip of your nose. “Worth it, anyway.” He surprises you by skating back, plucking the bouquet from your hand with ease before spinning you beneath his arm, cooing as the hem of your dress flutters in the air. “Did I ever tell you how much I love your outfit?” he adds. “You look like a princess.”

Your cheeks hurt, and when you stop spinning, you turn to face him.

“I feel like a princess,” you admit, accepting the flowers for the second time. “Does that make you my prince charming?”

Tom nods, smiling. “It’d be an honour.”

The air between you stills, and all that’s left is love.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, glancing down. “What if I fuck this up? What if I fall over? Or- or what if I don’t land a jump? What if my ankle can’t take it?” You gnaw on your lip. “Then it’ll all be over.”

Tom soothes you with a hand on your cheek. “You won’t fuck it up,” he says, voice confident. “You’re incredible, Y/N. You know the routine, and you know yourself. You’re ready for this.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes glinting warmly. “You’re going to go out there, smash it, then you’ll come back, and we’ll celebrate. Alright?”

You look down at the roses, then back to your boyfriend’s face, and you know that you believe him.

“Okay,” you agree. You bite your lip before darting up to kiss his cheek. “Love you, Tom.”

His eyes are full of adoration. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “I love you too.”

Tom presses his forehead to yours, and you relax there. With your fingers grasping the flowers and his hands caressing your waist, you let him support you. You let him kiss you, and hold you, and love you.

(And, later on, you let him hold your shiny gold medal, too.)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

i hope you guys liked dutchy as much i liked writing him :’)) this has taken almost a month! if there’s any interest, maybe we could do a hockey!tom blurb night soon...? idk ! i’d be down. let me know if you’d be too <3 thanks so much for reading!!!! please let me know what ya think!

mlist and taglist can be found through the link in my bio!

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland fluff #hockey!tomfic #tblr....please let me in the tags...? please?

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