#the key point with the building manager and her partner is they are YET MORE meddling grandma figures and this will be very fun

[whumpsmith-participates]

AI-less Whumptober 2024

Day 2 - Unfortunate fall

Tags/CW: ladywhump, superhero whump

Heroes spend a lot of time on rooftops.

It gives them a vantage point, a safe distance, and—above all—it looked really cool to freerun from rooftop to rooftop. Making daring jumps and last-minute saves. It's a good test for your coordination and quick-decision making and the key to becoming a successful hero.

One of the many so-called rooftop experts was Black Cat. Having grown up on the streets of the city and having no powers of flight to fall back on, already made her one of the best. But she did have a little advantage. Having the vestibular bones and spinal flexibility of a common feline, Cat could keep her balance and stick her landings like no other.

But hey...even cats make mistakes sometimes.

It all happened so fast. One moment everything was normal and the next she found herself staring up at the black sky and wondering why the buildings were dancing around her.

Don't be ridiculous, Cat.

The buildings weren't dancing. She was just dizzy. Likely hit her head on the way down. She could see the green, mossy line on the brick where the rain pipe was supposed to be. If only it hadn't broken off when she tried to climb it to get to the roof.

Oh well, no use to dwell on that now. She had to make sure she didn't just ruin her entire career with that slip-up. She started with her hands, touching her fingertips together to see if she still had feeling. Then she carefully made a fist with both hands, to see if that would hurt. Her left hand was fine, but her right stung a bit. Okay, better proceed carefully.

She lifted her left hand, holding it in front of her. A bit blurry, but it seemed fine otherwise. The lifted up her right hand next. Blood dripped onto her face from the deep gash in her palm. Yikes. But at least the blood wasn't spraying out.

Knowing her hands and arms were as okay as they could be, she checked her neck, just to be sure. Honestly, her whole body felt sore, so she doubted she had paralysed herself. Otherwise it wouldn't hurt this much, right? Frankly, she was surprised how hard it was to think rationally while being the one on the ground. Perhaps she should be a little more patient when talking to an injured person whilst working.

God, this was frustrating. Of all the times to pick a rotten rain pipe. She usually had some form of backup with her. Either her friend and long-time hero partner Mirage, who could've teleported her mid-air to prevent a rough landing, or their mutual friend, Cross, who could fly and would've caught her before she even fell.

But they both had to go off and get married and start families, so they didn't have as much time to prowl the city at night anymore. Cat worked alone most nights, which wasn't really the most convenient right now. Even if her friends hadn't managed to catch her, they could've at least gotten her some ice.

She considered calling Mirage. She could zip over in a second. But Cat was still convinced that she was just a bit bruised and that she could still just drag herself to her feet and limp home. Sleep it off and deal with the rest tomorrow. However, that belief changed quickly when she tried to sit up.

She tried to prop herself up on her left elbow, when she felt a pain in her chest so sharp it knocked the wind out of her. She laid back down and tried to gasp for air, which hurt even worse for some reason. She had no choice but to scream. It was the only way to cope with the pain of breathing. And she had to breathe.

As embarrassing as it was to bawl like an infant that hadn't yet learned any other way to communicate, it did the trick. She managed to slow her breathing enough for the pain to be manageable, allowing her to think again. Okay, so sitting up wasn't going to be it.

Very carefully she fished her phone from her pocket. Looks like she'd have to call Mirage after all. However, as she tried to unlock her phone, she found that it refused to turn on at all. Probably something to do with the massive crack down the middle of her screen.

"Son of a BITCH!"

She was a woman of little words. But that had to be said. She already had a plan B, but if earlier was any indication, that would be close to unbearable... Actually plan B was plan A, which was to drag herself home and deal with it later, but maybe she had to amend it a bit to dragging herself to a working phone.

Yes, a working phone. That shouldn't be too hard to do. She was in New York. She was in the city that never sleeps. Finding a working phone shouldn't be too hard. She just had to get out of this dark and abandoned alley.

Very carefully, she patted down her chest, locating the place where it hurt with a sharp hiss. She held her right hand firmly against it, crossing over her chest and resting just underneath her left breast. Maybe it wouldn't hurt as much like this.

She took a couple of slow, deep breaths while she could still breathe, before slowly rolling onto her side.

"Fucking shitsticks..."

She hissed through gritted teeth, panting vocally through the pain. A darkness crept in from the corner of her eyes, but she forced it away as she peered at the light at the end of the alley. She just had to get to the light. She could pass out after that.

She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, before slowly lifting her knee, setting her foot on the ground and pushing herself forward. With a loud snarl, she managed to inch forward a tiny bit before she had to stop and catch her breath.

Cool. Now she only had to do that a hundred more times.

She realised she was still biting her lip and stopped, spitting out the blood before ripping off the proverbial bandaid and pushing herself forward another couple of inches. She howled in pain, pressing her forehead against the dirty concrete as she caught her breath again.

This was going to be a long night.

"....cat..."

"Cat...."

"Cat?!"

Cat blearily opened her eyes, recognising the vague outline of a familiar pixie cut floating above her.

"Oh thank god!" Mirage exclaimed, "turns out Phil had the night off and he didn't mind looking after the little one, so I figured I should ring you up, but you weren't picking up your phone, so I used find my phone but it said you'd been offline for half an hour, and you're never offline, because you never turn off your phone and you make sure it never runs out of charge so you always have a signal for me to find, so I figured something must be wrong so I hopped right over and here you are!"

Where Cat was a woman of little words, Mirage was clearly a woman of many. Normally Cat could tolerate her well enough, she even appreciated it at times, just not right now. She couldn't breathe, and she didn't get a chance to cut in to tell her. She wasn't sure when she'd passed out, or whether Mirage had moved her. But the pain in her chest was so bad, and she could taste blood. There was no doubt. Her lung was fucked.

Cough!

The simple little cough was a Herculean effort, but it got the message across. Mirage's eyes widened as her friend weakly coughed up a mouthful of blood, inhaling half of it as she struggled to breathe.

"Cat?!" she gasped, "okay, okay, I've got you. Don't move, you'll be okay. Just hold on tight, I'll get you straight to hospital."

Cat couldn't bring herself to nod, but instead she grabbed a tight hold of Mirage's hand, as she usually did when Mirage was giving her a ride through time and space. It was okay to rest her eyes now. So long as she held on to Mirage she'd be fine. She didn't even have to brace herself for teleporting. It had become second nature to her too. She just had to hold on.

Plop!

The lady getting whumped in question

Masterlist Main account

Plop is the sound Mirage makes when she teleports.

[monsterkong]

Balancing Business and Life: Lessons from Entrepreneur Rebecca Cribbon

In today’s fast-paced world, finding the perfect balance between work and life can seem like an impossible task. But for entrepreneur Rebecca Cribbon, it’s not only possible—it’s essential. During our recent conversation, Rebecca shared her insights on how she manages to run a successful business while still making time for the people and activities she loves. Her approach to work-life balance is both practical and inspiring. 🌟

The Juggling Act of Life

Rebecca wears many hats—mother, partner, grandmother, and successful entrepreneur. But how does she manage to keep all these roles in balance? The answer lies in her disciplined approach to time management and her ability to prioritize what truly matters.

“I have a very controlled diary,” Rebecca explained. “People laugh at me because I’m planning 2026 right now, but if I don’t do that, then I’m not doing anything except working.” This level of organization allows Rebecca to carve out time for her loved ones, ensuring that she’s not just present but fully engaged in their lives.

The Power of Prioritization

One of the key lessons Rebecca has learned over the years is the importance of prioritization. Whether it’s her children’s soccer games or a crucial business meeting, Rebecca makes sure that her time is spent on activities that align with her values and goals. This approach has allowed her to build a life that is both fulfilling and successful.

Rebecca also emphasizes the importance of mental well-being. She takes time to practice self-love and gratitude, understanding that her health and happiness are critical to her ability to lead her business and care for her family.

Work-Life Balance in the Business World

Balancing work and life doesn’t mean that Rebecca’s business takes a back seat. On the contrary, her success is a direct result of her ability to manage both aspects of her life effectively. By focusing on process improvement and building a strong team, Rebecca has been able to scale her business while maintaining the quality her clients expect.

But Rebecca is quick to point out that it’s not always easy. “I’m tired all the time,” she admits. Yet, despite the challenges, she’s been able to create a life that is both professionally rewarding and personally fulfilling.

The Importance of Having a Plan B

One of Rebecca’s key strategies for maintaining balance is always having a Plan B. Whether it’s a backup for her housekeeping staff or a contingency plan for a property issue, Rebecca ensures that she’s prepared for any situation. This proactive approach reduces stress and allows her to handle unexpected challenges without sacrificing her personal time.

Rebecca’s commitment to having a backup plan extends beyond her business. In her personal life, she’s learned to be flexible and adapt to changing circumstances, whether it’s a family emergency or a sudden change in plans. This mindset has allowed her to navigate the complexities of life with grace and resilience.

Giving Back: A Key to Fulfillment

For Rebecca, work-life balance isn’t just about managing time—it’s also about giving back. Her involvement in charity work, particularly her efforts to establish Montessori preschools in South Africa, is a source of deep fulfillment. By helping others, Rebecca has found a sense of purpose that enriches her life and adds meaning to her work.

Rebecca’s goal is to expand her charitable efforts, helping more children and their families escape the cycle of poverty. This commitment to making a positive impact on the world is a testament to her belief that true success is measured not just by professional achievements but by the difference we make in the lives of others.

Conclusion

Rebecca Cribbon’s approach to work-life balance is a masterclass in prioritization, discipline, and compassion. Her ability to manage a thriving business while still making time for her family and charitable work is a powerful reminder that it’s possible to have it all—if we’re willing to plan, prioritize, and stay true to our values. As Rebecca continues to grow her business and her impact on the world, her story serves as an inspiration to us all.

#ShortTermRentals#PropertyManagement#CharityWork

[existentialmagazine]

Review: Ava Valianti’s newest single ‘January’ weaves catchy indie-pop and acoustics together for an exploration of unrequited love

Hailing from Massachusetts, the singer-songwriter Ava Valianti has seen herself catapulted her onto the global stage with her incredibly individual sound and musical works, weaving the essence of indie-pop through folk touches and unique developments. Sparking comparisons with artists such as Billie Eilish, Olivia Rodrigo, Renee Rapp, and Gracie Abrams, it’s clear she’s not just up there with the greats, but set to go far in her own right. Now with her much anticipated third single ‘January’, Ava’s not slowing down anytime soon.

From pressing play, ‘January’ sets itself apart instantly, whisking you up through a muffled voice note introduction, piano keys and soaring backing harmonies that feel heavenly in the same sultry way a Siren would alluring sailors in the sea. Through the personal touch of a spoken passage that mirrors receiving a message from a friend, and the aching touch of the whimsical rising vocals in the background, ‘January’ blends together something casual and friendly with aching intimacies too. That sense is instantly carried through into the verses soft vocals, an easy-going low-toned delivery that clearly holds power behind it and yet chooses to remain hushed and down, a parallel to the lyrical admissions that are revealed to find our protagonist heartbroken and lacking motivation as they pine from afar. Quick building beats and intricate guitar plucks surround the performance with such an atmospheric delivery, ebbing and flowing in pacing to always keep you guessing whether you’re at a high or a low.

With a distorted slow out into the chorus, we reach our most tender moment yet. Brought down to earth in just raw, gently strummed acoustic guitar and floaty vocals, Ava loses all of the built-up butterflies and growing feelings, finding herself reflecting on the reality that the one she yearns for has already found a match that’s far more suited to them than she could ever be. She reaches into higher vocal runs that encapsulate the fragility of the moment, something so gorgeous to the ears but destructive to the heart in one.

With an untraditional development of sound, ‘January’ completely shifts things up once again, bouncing along with pounding beats, vibrant piano and a much more confident vocal delivery, finding herself perhaps more frustrated than pained from this point onwards. As she starts to pick apart the person she feels incomparable to, Ava sings ‘ultra sophisticated taste in music, so superior to mine, such basic rhymes’, pinning herself against a standard she feels she cannot beat and putting herself down as though it were a competition to win. Continuing to express this partner’s perfections she shares ‘you’re ultraviolet, radiating’ , with many of Ava’s lines simply spent comparing herself with this other person, a heartbreak that’s untraditional as her feelings go unknown and she perhaps finds a lot more of her tragedy in the inadequacies she feels inside, rather than the inevitable rejection she’d find admitting how she felt to someone already taken. That’s not to say she doesn’t spend a good amount of time restless in her love, admitting ‘I stare at you frozen in time’ and ‘I need to find a place I can cry’, bottling up feelings that cannot go anywhere but be swallowed and felt deeply.

Adding a little more depth, Ava shares more on her thought process behind the song, “The hurt is still there and the feelings don’t go away, but you know that as hard as you might try, you’re not what they need. The song reflects the impact of memories, even as life moves forward, and the feeling of being tethered to the past and what could have been.”

There are few musical pieces that manage to develop so divinely in sound, as well as offer lyricism poetic and catchy all in one, and for that we’d hope you’ll listen deeper to ‘January’ for yourself here. For someone so new to the music scene, Ava has surely set expectations high for what she’s capable of delivering.

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Plum + Port Photography

// This coverage was supported and created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

[soulmate-game]

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

[alotofpockets]

Distracted | Yelena Belova x Reader | Part 1

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Reader

Summary: Yelena is your best friend. You like her as more than a friend, but won't tell her that. What happends when you get distracted on a mission. Word count: 1.274 Warnings: angst with a happy ending, mention of stabbing.

Read on AO3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You were training with the team for an upcoming mission. You were sparring with your best friend Yelena, hand to hand combat. You were good, but she won most times. Like this time, Yelena won. She caught you off-guard and pinned you to the ground. Your heart started beating faster, your eyes on her, it was as if time was frozen still. “what’s the matter красотка (gorgeous), still not used to me beating your ass?” Yelena laughed as she got of you and held out her hand to help you up. “Just wait for it Belova, I’ll get you next time” you reply. “Ha you wish” Yelena calls after you as she walks away to spar with Wanda next.

Your next sparring partner is Natasha. You were actually holding your own during the fight, until your eyes fall on Yelena talking of her shirt, leaving her in her sports bra. Natasha grasps this opportunity to tackle you, she plops you on the ground and you need a minutes to catch your breath. “Can’t win when you’re drooling over my sister” Natasha says softly so only you can hear. Your eyes shoot up to hers “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about” you manage to say. “oh come one, everyone can see it. She has been calling you красотка (gorgeous) all week, I’m guessing that means she feels the same way” Natasha says with a smirk. “I don’t even know what that means, since none of you want to teach me any Russian.” You snap back. “She’s been calling you gorgeous right to your face, you dumbass.”

When training was over you took a shower, deep in though about what Natasha just shared with you. Was there a possibility that Yelena liked you back? It didn’t matter because you’d never tell her. Your friendship is too important, you couldn’t ruin that. So, you decided to ignore it. The rest of the day you avoided Yelena.

The next day Natasha, Yelena, Wanda and you left for your mission in St. Petersburg. Fury sent you to find some files. The quinjet lands and you all arrive at the location the files are supposed to be. The four of you go into the building to find the files you needed. You cleared the rooms one by one, nothing yet. Wanda found a door leading to what seemed to be the basement and called the rest over. Wanda and Natasha walked in first, while you and Yelena kept watch at the door. “What’s going on with you?” Yelena asked worried. “Hm nothing, just focused on the mission I guess.” You quickly replied. Luckily Natasha called for the two of you to come down over her earpiece.

The four of you cleared more rooms in the basement when you heard a loud explosion. The first sign of other people being around. “Let’s stick together now” Yelena said to the group, as you turn down the next corridor, where you are met with a sharp pain and you screech. The other girls run your way as they hear you yell out in pain. Natasha and Wanda fight the man that had just stabbed you and the other two that came running your way, while Yelena put pressure on your wound trying to keep you conscious as you were losing a lot of blood. Once Nat and Wanda took down the guys, they came running back to you. “We have to get her out of here, she’s bleeding out” Yelena says as she lifts your up.

When you get back outside you see what the explosion was. The quinjet was on fire and missing half of its structure. “Well shit” Wanda said. Looking around to find some other form of transportation “over there” Wanda says as she points to a car and starts running. Luckily the car still has the keys in it, probably one of the guys that came running in after the explosion. Natasha who ran with Wanda, starts the car and drives over to where Yelena is standing with you in her arms. Yelena puts you in the backseat and gets in with you. “Where are we going? We can’t take her back to the compound without a jet” Wanda asks. “Our parents live close by, mom can help her.” Natasha replies as she speeds of onto the road. You start to lose consciousness on the way over.

---

You wake up in an unfamiliar room. You slowly sit up feeling something on your stomach, you look down and see a bandage is wrapped around it. Slowly the memories start coming back to you and you remember Natasha saying she was taking you to her parents’ house. You feel good enough to stand up, so you walk over to the small closet in the room and take a shirt. After putting the shirt on you walk out of the room to find the others.

You find them sitting at a table in the kitchen. Natasha, Wanda, Yelena and a man and a woman that you don’t recognize, they must be Nat and Yelena’s parents. “Thank god, you’re awake” Natasha greets you. “Sit down sweetheart, you shouldn’t be walking yet. Don’t want your stitches to break” the unfamiliar woman says. “I’m Melina and this is my husband Alexei. Come have some food, you must be hungry”. You gladly ate all the food Melina put on your plate. “How long was I out for?” you asked the group when you finished your food. “around three hours” Wanda replies. “You were lucky that the girls got you here in time.” Melina says while putting a hand on Yelena’s shoulder. You look over to Yelena, realizing she hasn’t said a word yet.

“Lena what’s wrong?” you ask. “What’s wrong? Seriously, I think I should be asking you that question… You’ve been ignoring me and then I say everyone should stay together, you walk off on your own and nearly get yourself killed.” Yelena answers angrily, but you can also hear the worry in her voice. “I’m sorry Lena I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to ignore your orders, I was just distracted I guess.” You say while looking down. “Tell me what got you so distracted that you ruined the mission and almost died?” she glares at you. You stay quiet for a while, looking around the room. Your eyes land on Natasha “Something Nat said to me yesterday.”

Yelena, Wanda, Melina and Alexei are looking between you and Natasha, waiting to hear what Nat said to get you so distracted. “Can we have a moment, please?” you ask. Everyone nods and heads of leaving you and Yelena in the kitchen. “I’m really sorry Lena” you start “I know I put us all in danger by being distracted and not thinking clearly.”. “What did she say to you?”

“She eh, she told me what красотка (gorgeous) translates too.” You say softly as you look up at Yelena. “Oh” is all Yelena manages to say back. “I wasn’t going to say anything because our friendship is too important to me, but I guess since not saying anything nearly got me killed… Lena I like you and hearing Nat say that you were calling me that nickname got me thinking and I didn’t know if you meant it like I hoped you did, so I..” you were rambling before Yelena cut you off saying “I did..I did mean it like that”. You look at each other, those green eyes you get lost in so easily. Yelena leans in and look at your lips, you smile as you close the distance and connect your lips with hers.

[solemnly-mischievous]

rivalry (d.m. x reader)

You and Draco Malfoy have a rocky relationship, at best. It'd be better to describe it as a rivalry. But all it takes is a bit of fire from your end to finally make him snap.

(AKA: I just really wanted to write an enemies-to-lovers trope for my first fic.)

A/N: Hi! First fic. Hope you like it. :)

Contains: Degradation, slight edging, d/s elements, slight dub-con (but not really; full consent is clearly given), light humiliation

Word count: 3.9K

-----

Normally, Defense Against the Dark Arts would be your favorite class. The spells you learn are fun and useful; Professor Lupin is always a plus, and most importantly, you’re good at the subject—so bloody good, you’ve bested even Hermione and Harry multiple times.

But lately, you’ve been finding yourself dreading the lessons. So much, in fact, that you were half-considering asking Hermione to hex you just to get out of your afternoon class.

Why? It’s a pretty easy answer when you got down to it.

Draco Malfoy.

You’d had an ongoing rivalry with the git since third grade. He’s been terrorizing you and your friends, mostly because of Harry, but along the way the two of you had begun building a personal vendetta.

(He probably hasn’t quite yet forgiven you for hexing him so badly he’d had to stay in the Infirmary for weeks, and you certainly haven’t forgiven him for causing your friends so much grief over the years.)

This year, you’d thought you could try your best to avoid him, with your upcoming N.E.W.T.s and all. But DADA had other plans.

Professor Lupin had begun experimenting with mixing up partners for class—it was, after all, a very hands-on class—and had apparently decided that cross-house interaction would build bonds and skill. His exact words were, “If they’re your friend, you’re gonna go easier on them. In the real world, you never know who you’re fighting with—or against.”

So he’d randomized the name list. You, being Gryffindor, knew immediately you wouldn’t be with any of your closest friends—but you hoped that perhaps you’d be paired with Cedric, or Luna, or anyone but—

“Your partner is Draco Malfoy,” Professor Lupin informed you when he got to your name, and you immediately make to protest.

“Her?” a voice came just as you complained “Not him”, and the students parted to reveal Draco himself, glaring daggers at you and Lupin.

“Yes, her,” Lupin replied, unruffled. “Now, pair up, everyone. We’re practicing Stunning today.”

That day, you’d fucking limped out of the classroom. Not to say Draco had gotten it easier—he could barely stand after you Disarmed, Stunned, and hit him with a nasty stinger hex just for the sake of it. (You’d gotten detention, but it was worth it.)

Today’s your second class with Malfoy, and you’ve never wanted more to be able to commit violent actions in your life.

“Please,” you whisper to Hermione as your group enter the DADA classroom. “Just one hex. I won’t even go to Pomfrey. No witnesses. You could just Petrify me, if that’s more to your liking.”

She sighs. “I’m not going to Petrify you.”

“’Mione,” you say, scandalized. “I thought we were friends.”

“Pair up, everyone,” Lupin calls out. Your friends shuffle away and you close your eyes, already getting a headache from the thought of—

“Well, well.” That fucking smarmy voice. “If it isn’t Potter’s little friend.”

“If it isn’t Daddy’s boy,” you snap, opening your eyes and glaring at Malfoy, who already has his wand out. “Bugger off, Malfoy.”

“Afraid I can’t do that.” Draco’s eyes narrow. Clearly, he’s as displeased with the situation as you are. “What are we doing today, then? Can’t wait to knock you down a few notches. Star of the class, my—”

“Patronuses!” Professor Lupin announces from across the room, and your heart soars—Patronuses, you could do that. Harry, months earlier, had taught you how to perfect a corporeal form in exchange for tips on his Astronomy essay. He isn’t here today—maybe you could be the only one in the class to do it.

Lupin continues, “Yes, the Patronus—an essential in the world of Defense magic. We’ll be starting with just the simple basics of it. A strong flick of the wand, and the words ‘Expecto Patronum!’. Say it with me, everyone.”

You chorus the words obediently along with the class, Malfoy’s snort of derision not going unnoticed.

“Good. Good, good, now—the key to the Patronus is to think of a happy memory. It has to be strong. Remember, Dementors feed on misery—it’s the only way to keep them away. Now, go practice. I’ll be walking around to see if there’s any problems.”

“Expecto Patronom,” Malfoy repeats in a mocking voice once the classroom starts filling with the chants of fellow students. “Doesn’t Potter know how to do that one? Heard he can do a deer. Pretty weak animal if you ask me—”

“A stag,” you correct. “And it’s Patronum, not Patronom.”

He glares at you again. “Think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

“Certainly smarter than you are.” You glance at him. “Though that’s not saying much, is it?”

You give Fred Weasley, who’d circled around to hear the conversation, a not-discreet fist-bump.

“Alright then.” Malfoy spits out your last name, trying to provoke you. “Let’s see you do it.”

“You try,” you suggest, hiding your smirk. “Unless you’re too scared.”

Draco grits his teeth. Unwilling to back down from a challenge, he brandishes his wand. “Expecto Patronum!”

A thin, wispy light appears at the end of his wand—weak, but clearly visible. Classmates around you murmur as they notice it, and Professor Lupin beams as he sees Draco’s doing. “Very good, Draco! A fantastic start.”

Draco flicks his wand smugly and the Patronus charm dissipates. He smirks, shooting you an expectant look.

You take out your wand, feeling its familiar grip, and you close your eyes. You recall the memory of a weekend in Hogsmeade with your friends, drinking Butterbeer as you stroll through the snowy village, pointing out the shops and people. Unconsciously, you smile.

“Expecto Patronum!”

Light blazes so bright you can see it under closed eyes, and you open them to find a glowing golden retriever prancing out the end of your wand. It bounds around in the air joyfully, leaving a trail of light where it leaps, and circles the classroom, eventually coming back to you and wagging its tail.

Professor Lupin is grinning, utterly delighted as he takes in your Patronus. Calling your name, he exclaims, “That is phenomenal—you’ve learned fast. Very impressive job!”

You smile back, and your Patronus glows lighter in response. You quickly call it off, the light being a bit too much, and the rest of the class passes by in a haze of awed murmurs and classmates asking your advice on their spellwork. You become so preoccupied, you don’t even notice Draco’s unrelenting stare on your back.

The class ends fast, the bell tolling to signify the start of what would be a study period for you. As students trail out of the classroom, chattering happily, Professor Lupin calls you over.

“Listen, I want you to know that what you did today was truly impressive,” he says, seriously. “I assume Harry laid out the groundwork, yes?”

You nod. He smiles. “You and Harry both are very accomplished students, then. But truly—I doubt many Aurors could’ve managed what you did today.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Your words are sincere.

“My pleasure.” Professor Lupin shoots you an apologetic look. “Now, I’m terribly sorry, but I have off-grounds business to attend to—would you mind setting the classroom to rights? I’m afraid I had to push the desks and chairs back for our class, but I don’t have time to put them back. I’ll write you a note, if you—”

“Oh, no, Professor, don’t worry, it’s a study period. I’d be glad to help.”

“Thank you,” he says, relieved, already heading out the door. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I’ll bring chocolate to compensate!”

“Goodbye, Professor!” you call, and he echoes it, and then he’s gone. You look around the classroom, seeing all the desks in the back, and you crack your knuckles. Time to get to work.

“Well. Quite the teacher’s pet, aren’t we?”

Merlin’s fucking beard.

“Bloody hell, Malfoy,” you mutter, turning around to find him leaning against the classroom doorframe. His blond hair glints silver in the sunlight, and his entire outline—his uniform, his stance, his dark gaze—is just… honestly, unfairly attractive.

So maybe your first impression of Draco Malfoy, years ago, wasn’t that he was a self-entitled git. Maybe, just maybe, you’d thought he was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen.

And maybe that feeling never went away.

Not that you’d let him know that.

“What are you doing here?”

“Study period.” He starts walking towards you, shutting the door behind him. “Couldn’t help but be curious as to what Lupin wanted with you.”

“What’s it to you?” you snap. Malfoy doesn’t reply.

“Why do you insist on being so difficult?” he asks instead, and you blink.

“Me?” you splutter. “Difficult? Fat lot of sense that makes, with you fucking insulting me at every move I make—”

“As I recall, our first interaction was you hexing me in third-year.” Malfoy sounds amused.

“You pushed Harry into the lake,” you snap at him. “You bloody well deserved it.”

Draco laughs. “Good times.”

“Malfoy, what the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“You’ve got quite a mouth.”

“My mouth is also capable of jinxing you three ways to Friday, so I suggest you leave me alone, yeah?” Your fingers twitch towards your wand in preparation, and he only looks on with derision.

“I’m just frightened,” Malfoy sneers. You barely notice him slipping off his rings, pocketing them. “Potter taught you that Patronus charm, didn’t he?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothin’. Just wondering what else he taught you.” A vengeful mood seems to have taken Draco. “You seem to hang out with him an awful lot.”

“It’s called having friends,” you snap right back. He looks as though he’s about to retort, but you push on. “Unfamiliar with the concept? Wouldn’t be surprised. Crabbe and Goyle don’t seem like the best conversationalists, are they? Just a couple of goons. Wonder why you don’t have better friends. Friends you can actually talk to who operate with more than one braincell.”

“Shut—”

“Maybe it’s because no one wants to be near you,” you continue, years of pent up frustration spilling out in a vitriolic spiel. “Because you’re a miserable bastard who doesn’t know how to be happy, aren’t you? You drive everyone away and then you go after more because you’re lonely and sad and fucking pathetic—”

“Shut up,” Malfoy repeats with a vehemence.

“—and it’s too fucking late to repair the damage you’ve done—”

“Shut up,” Malfoy snarls, and you stare into his narrowed eyes.

“Fucking make me,” you snap back, and he lunges.

You’re pinned against the wall of the classroom, Malfoy’s wand to your throat and a hand fisting your robes to render you immobile. Draco flicks his wand, ever-so-slightly, and you hear the classroom door lock with a wordless spell.

“Malfoy,” you whisper, but he cuts you off.

“Shut the fuck up or I swear you’ll bloody regret it,” he hisses.

“Draco,” you begin, and he curses.

“Fuck it.”

Gripping your robes, he leans in and kisses you.

It’s rough and demanding and you think he’s trying to hurt you, with how much his teeth scrape against your bottom lip and bite down gently, but you’re not pulling away, he’s not pulling away, and you find yourself leaning into the kiss, arching up to meet him—

He breaks away and looks at you, smirking.

“If I’d known that’s what it would take for you to shut your bloody mouth, I’d have done it years ago.”

“Let me go, Malfoy,” you say shakily, but even as he loosens his grip slightly, you show no sign of moving.

“If you’d wanted to leave you’d have Stunned me long ago,” he states, truthfully. Your wand is fully in reach. You know how to do wordless spells. And yet you let him kiss you.

“Shut up,” you grumble, still not moving.

“I think, perhaps,” Draco murmurs, glancing down at your body, “you’re enjoying this.”

“No,” you argue, and his wand digs into your neck—not enough to hurt but enough to register.

“Shh,” Draco hushes, almost condescendingly. “Be quiet, now. That’s a good girl.”

Involuntarily, you shudder at his words. They made your legs weak, and you fight off the urge to audibly whimper—what the hell’s gotten into you?

Maybe he won’t notice. Maybe he hasn’t noticed.

Of fucking course he notices.

“Oh?” The shit-eating smirk on his face is enough to make you glare absolute daggers at him. “Don’t give me that. You shivered. You liked it.”

“Shut up,” you say again, with no real strength.

“Don’t you want to be my good girl, sweetheart?” he teases cruelly, and you have to close your eyes to fight off the blush. It doesn’t work, and your face grows hot with embarrassment and arousal.

“Dear me,” Draco says mockingly. “What happened to the spitfire from minutes ago, hm? Still feeling like saying those words to me? Still feeling like being bad?”

Inadvertently, you shake your head.

“Who’s pathetic now?” he mocks, grinning, letting his wand trail a cold path down your neck, over your collarbone, until it rests on the top button of your uniform. “May I?”

The question sounds mocking, but he meets your gaze and you know he’s honestly asking for permission. And you give it to him, nodding, even as your blush deepens. Draco undoes your buttons, one by one, with tiny flicks of his wand, until your shirt is fully unbuttoned and you’re exposed to his gaze.

Draco shoves his wand into his belt and pushes your bra out of the way with an almost laughable urgency, getting a full, appreciative look at your breasts. “So fucking pretty,” he murmurs. “Shame they belong to such a fucking headache, hm?”

You grumble some sort of an insult, and Draco pinches a nipple, which shuts you up effectively. “That’s what I thought.”

His hands trail down to your skirt, and instead of undoing the button he leans down and scoops the fabric up. “Here, be good and useful and hold this for me.”

The indifferent praise and the degradation combined has you obeying immediately, hoisting your skirt up and baring yourself to him, which only adds to an eddying swirl of shame and arousal pooling in your gut. Draco looks at you, stares, really, and it’s with a predatory grin that he reaches over to caress you through your panties.

“Soaked,” he observes, sounding both amused and satisfied. “You always get off this much to being treated like a right slut, then?”

“Draco,” you whine, bucking your hips up into his almost phantom touch. “Come on.”

“Is that how we ask nicely?” Oh, this bloody git. You’ll never be able to look at him again—he’s going to be so fucking smug around you.

When you don’t answer, he withdraws his touch completely, and you make a sound of protest. “No, no, please.”

“Go on.”

“Please touch me,” you try, but it’s hard to focus when you’re so goddamn wet you’re soaking through your panties.

“Not quite,” Draco muses. He’s palming himself through his trousers, and the sight turns you on impossibly more. “Come on, then—convince me.”

“Draco, please touch me,” you beg. One of your hands drift down to your panties but he slaps it away immediately, shooting you a warning look. “Please!”

“Touch you where?” He wants you to say it.

“Touch my cunt, please, Draco, fuck, I’m so wet it hurts,” you beg, and it’s true—you’re aching with arousal, and if he doesn’t touch you within the next few seconds you think you really just might combust. “Please, please touch me, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want, just touch me.”

“If only the school could see you now,” he sneers, but even he seems to break his self-control and he tugs your panties down harshly, all but ripping them off. “Baring yourself to me and begging to be touched like a whore.”

“I’m not—oh,” you gasp, his fingers pressing into your cunt immediately and his thumb working on your clit, sending waves of pleasure so potent you almost double over. His fingers are long and thin, which is why he can press two in without preamble, and the stretch is barely noticeable.

“You’re not what? A whore?” Draco laughs. “Please. Look at yourself.”

“’m not,” you insist, but you clench around his fingers at his words and he raises an eyebrow.

“I think you’re lying.” He presses a third finger in and you whine, little sounds of pleasure escaping your lips as he works you open. “Quieter, now, or I’ll have to gag you.”

You bite your lip, and Draco thumbs your clit as a reward and incentive. “Now, tell me what you are. Be truthful, or I won’t fuck you. I’ll leave, leave you here with your shirt hanging open and your skirt up, the doors wide open. Maybe the next bloke who stumbles in might help you.”

Your eyes widen—he wouldn’t. But his gaze is dead serious. “Say it.”

“I’m a whore,” you breathe, and he thrusts his fingers into you, hitting that right spot. “Draco!”

“Say it louder,” he orders, angling his fingers and curling them.

“I’m a whore,” you moan out, bucking your hips upwards—you’re close, you’re so close. “Draco, I—”

He stops moving, and his other hand pinches your clit harshly. “No.”

You let out a gasp of shock and hurt, reeling from the denial and pleasure. “But—”

“You’re not fucking coming until I say so,” Draco hisses, undoing his belt and pushing his trousers down. “And I’m not saying so until I properly fuck you into a bloody wreck.”

His cock is already hard, and he positions himself right at your entrance. You can feel him, his tip pressed against your wetness, but not pushing in. “Draco—”

“I think,” he muses, and you want to scream, “one day I’ll drag you into a broom closet. Fuck your throat so hard you won’t be able to talk for the day. You’ll look pretty, don’t you think?”

“Please—”

“Or I’ll bring you back to my dorm, so I can fuck you until you’re screaming yourself hoarse,” Draco says thoughtfully. “Your dorm works. So long as I can ruin you.”

“Malfoy—”

“Because it’s just so—” and he pushes into you in one swift movement, fucking into you immediately with a fast and rough rhythm, “—fucking nice to see you being a slut for me.”

“Fuck!” You grind your hips along with his rhythm, feeling the tightness of your cunt around his cock, and you clench as he hits your sweet spot with the right angle, almost shaking with the pleasure that it gives you.

Draco groans your name, fucking you brutally as he chases his own release, already pent-up from the teasing and the sight of your wrecked state. “’m gonna come on your tits, would you like that? Get it all fucking messy, maybe get some into your mouth, get you fucking ruined?”

“Please, please, fuck, please let me come,” you plead him, feeling your impending orgasm barrel towards you—you couldn’t last, you can’t fucking last—

“Fucking hold it,” Draco snaps. “Hold it like a good fucking girl, you understand?”

You let out a mournful sound, but you nod—yes, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, please—

“Salazar, I’m fucking close,” Malfoy breathes into your ear, his voice rough and strained. “You feel so good, love, so bloody tight.”

“Please,” you whimper, not even sure what you’re pleading for at this point. Draco exhales shakily and curses, pulling out and pushing you to your knees with such a force that you drop down, your skirt being the only padding.

“Wh—?” you try to ask, but Draco is already pumping his cock and then he’s coming all over your face, some of it dripping down to paint your breasts as he’d promised. Draco leans down to gather some release on a finger and pushes it into your mouth, eyes darkening as you suck and swallow around it.

“Good girl,” he praises, and you almost come right there.

“Draco, please,” you beg, still on your knees and still absolutely fucking desperate for release that he’s been denying you for the past half hour. “Please let me—”

“Alright, spread your legs, c’mon,” Draco guides, and you obey and then he’s there, thumb rubbing steady circles around your clit and two fingers pushing inside you once more. You whine and grind into his fingers, his touch, hips following his movement as he pushes you closer—closer—

“Fuck!” you sob as he senses your impending orgasm and stills his hand. “No—no, why?”

You sound like a petulant child and Draco laughs at you, and it’s an unfair move and a mean sound but it somehow turns you on even more. “I’m just messing, sweetheart.”

Fuck you, you badly want to say, but somehow you feel like that won’t get you what you want.

Draco starts moving again, his fingers gaining speed, and the sound of them pumping in and out of your soaked cunt sounds delightfully dirty. You’re quickly pushed to the edge again, and amidst your pleasure you eye Draco distrustfully.

“Please,” you whisper, and he smirks at you.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

And he thumbs your clit and you’re coming, gasping with the pleasure and shaking as he eases you through it. His fingers don’t stop moving, even after your orgasm has faded, and you squirm in discomfort as he overstimulates you.

“Stop—please—”

“Promise me you won’t be a bloody pain again,” Draco levels at you, and you want to glare back but his fingers curl inside of you and you yelp with pleasure and pain. “Promise me, or I’ll keep going.”

“I—I won’t be a pain,” you mumble, trying to squeeze your thighs together to get rid of his touch, but he perseveres, flicking your clit mercilessly.

“Say you’ll be good.”

“I’ll be good,” you manage, so close to sobbing from the frustration. “Please, Draco, I’ll be good, be good for you, please stop.”

He relents and you feel him draw his hand back. You close your eyes and you hear him tug his trousers back on, buckling his belt. You feel strangely empty without him—without his fingers, his cock, his touch.

Draco produces a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the sweat, drool, and cum off your face, helping you button your shirt back up as well. “You alright?”

“Never better,” you reply, opening your eyes to see him staring at you in concern, all traces of the cruel tease earlier gone. Outside, the sun is setting, casting orange hues into the classroom, and you suddenly remember. “I—oh, bloody hell, I have to arrange the desks for Lupin—”

“I’ll do it. Stay here.”

Draco stands up and takes out his wand, flicking it twice in quick succession. A wordless spell. As you watch, the desks and chairs slide back to where they used to be, neatly arranging themselves in rows.

You’re impressed as he comes back. “What spell is—hey!”

He’s flicked his wand once more and torn your panties clean off your legs.

“Draco—what in Merlin—”

“A souvenir.” Malfoy smirks, stuffing your soaked panties into the pocket of his trousers. “And payment for the desks.”

“You’re a bloody prick,” you say, leaning your head back against the wall.

“Careful now, love. Remember what you promised.” Draco’s tone is playful, but warning. “I’m a man of my word, so you should choose yours carefully. Next time I won’t be as gentle.”

Caught off-guard, you can only nod obediently, which seems to please him. But you can’t promise you won’t slip back into old habits the very next day. Whatever the case, one thing was clear—there would almost certainly be a next time.

------

Requests & asks are open! Here is the guide on requests, if you'd like to check that out first. Hope you enjoyed!

[quinn-jfc]

Coming Home—Faberry (1/1)

WHO: Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry

WHEN: Saturday, January 23, 2021

WHERE: Rachel’s Apartment, New York, NY

WHAT: Quinn and Rachel celebrate a life-changing decision.

QUINN: Quinn hurriedly walks the streets of Yorkville, pulling her coat tighter around herself in an attempt to stave off the cold, late January morning. She’s on her way to Rachel’s, eager to spend the weekend wrapped up in her girlfriend.

She’s only a little disappointed they weren’t able to start their weekend last night, but Rachel’s workshop schedule didn’t allow for it. Quinn is so proud of Rachel and all the work she’s putting into her newest role, but she wished Rachel had been able to join her last night to celebrate Kaitlyn’s birthday. Quite a few surprises were had—one of which has Quinn feeling a little uncertain about things.

Letting herself into Rachel’s apartment building with the key her girlfriend had given her all those months ago, Quinn makes her way up the stairs, feeling her excitement at seeing Rachel grow. Even after nearly a year together, Rachel never fails to elicit butterflies.

Soon, she’s at the entryway to the apartment, and she quickly fixes her hair before opening the door to her home away from home.

RACHEL: Rachel is puttering around her kitchen, preparing a light brunch for her girlfriend. Really, she’s only cutting up some fresh fruit at the moment, uncertain of what Quinn would prefer, if anything, but the coffee is brewed—well, the second pot; Rachel may have a small addiction—and she has ingredients for whatever Quinn might like to eat.

She finds herself quietly singing one of the songs from her workshop. It’s still very early in the process, and the score currently only consists of three songs and some rough melodies, but Idgie’s solo happens to be one of them, and she, of course, is Idgie. They’d originally wanted to cast her as Ruth, and Rachel supposes she could have been happy with that, but then she maybe took it upon herself to borrow the sheet music and sing “The Beecharmer’s Blues,” tentative title, for Kevin, the composer, and they’d changed their mind. She’s not mad about it.

It’s not like they’d actually decided on an actress for Idgie at that point anyway.

She’s half humming, half singing her way through the chorus when she hears her door open, and she smiles.

QUINN: The lovely lilt of Rachel’s voice reaches Quinn’s ears, and her lips curve up in pleasure as she follows the sound toward the kitchen, where she finds her beautiful girlfriend gazing at her with unabashed affection.

“Hi, baby,” Quinn greets her a little breathlessly before closing the short distance between them and capturing Rachel’s lips in a sweet kiss.

RACHEL: Rachel falls into Quinn’s kiss with a happy sigh, looping her arms around her girlfriend’s shoulders. She takes the opportunity to deepen the contact, even if just for a moment. That she can do this, that Quinn Fabray is back in her life as her romantic partner, still feels like a dream sometimes, but they’ve been together for nearly a year now, and Rachel hasn’t managed to screw it up yet.

It isn’t always easy, but being with Quinn this way is so worth the occasional bumps in the road.

When Quinn finally pulls back, Rachel chases her lips to steal one more peck before allowing her to fully retreat. “Hey, baby,” she breathes, grinning. “I missed you last night.”

QUINN: She matches Rachel’s grin with one of her own. “I missed you too. It was a fun time, but Kaitlyn’s party would have been so much better with you there,” she confesses, not for the first time.

Quinn always wishes Rachel was at her side. She treasured the extra days during the fall months, despite her own Jets Flight Crew duties, classes, and work, due to Rachel’s vacation after finishing her contract with The Devil Wears Prada. Coming home to Rachel in the evenings after a long day was the best feeling. Granted, “home” might not be home for long, and that’s got Quinn feeling somewhat unsettled.

RACHEL: “Well, obviously,” Rachel boasts with a cheeky grin. “Who doesn’t want a Broadway star singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to them?” She may not currently be starring in the hottest new musical on the Great White Way—a sad fact that she hopes will change very soon—but she still has enough buzz around her name to suit her ego. Her investment in this workshop is the only reason she’d missed Kaitlyn’s party. She’d really wanted to go.

“Did Kaitlyn get everything else she wanted for her birthday?”

QUINN: She smiles wistfully at Rachel’s question. “Yeah, I would say so,” Quinn confirms, thinking back to her roommate’s happy tears and joyful smile at one particular surprise. “Michael finally proposed, and Kaitlyn is absolutely over the moon.”

Quinn presses her lips together for a moment as uncertainty clouds her features, thinking back to the conversation they had after the party—about how things are about to change in a major way.

RACHEL: “Oh, that’s wonderful!” is her first reaction. It’s only after the words spill excitedly out of her mouth that she fully registers the apprehensive expression that settles on Quinn’s face, and her own smile slips away. “But you don’t look particularly happy about it.”

She reaches out a hand to touch Quinn’s shoulder, suddenly concerned. “Is something wrong?”

QUINN: She sighs then, wishing she was happier for her friend. Really, it’s not like Kaitlyn or Michael did anything wrong.

“Kind of,” Quinn admits after a beat, gazing into concerned brown eyes. “After the party, Kaitlyn and Michael told me they want to move in together—ideally, they’d like to buy a small house in Verona.” Her brow furrows slightly then. “They said I can come with them, but I don’t know. I like Michael, but I’m not sure I want to live with him, you know?” she finishes, hoping Rachel understands.

RACHEL: Something in Rachel viscerally recoils at the idea of Quinn living with Kaitlyn and her boyfrie– fiancé. She has nothing against Michael, though she doesn’t really know him all that well yet, and she considers Kaitlyn a friend, but Quinn is—well, Quinn is her girlfriend, damn it. She shouldn’t be living out some odd three’s company scenario with a soon to be married couple.

But she knows that her girlfriend shouldn’t live alone. If she could, it would simply be a matter of keeping the apartment and helping Kaitlyn move out.

“Oh, baby,” Rachel coos, reaching for Quinn with the intent of wrapping her up in a hug. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking about what her engagement would mean for you.” The tickle of a notion begins to flutter around her brain, but she’s nervous to give it voice. “How much time do you have to make a decision?”

QUINN: Quinn melts into Rachel’s embrace, momentarily letting herself forget all about her worries.

But Rachel’s question lingers, and Quinn reluctantly pulls back, letting her hands settle on her girlfriend’s hips as she looks at Rachel once more.

“Our lease is up at the end of March. So a little over two months,” Quinn replies.

RACHEL: Two months. Quinn has two months to decide what her new living situation will be, because regardless of whether or not she follows Kaitlyn and Michael into their new life together, things are about to change drastically.

Rachel knows how important Kaitlyn has been to Quinn. No one has understood her illness and her needs better than Kaitlyn in these past several years, with the exception of Judy perhaps. At least until Rachel had come back into Quinn’s life and forced her to open up and spill all of her secrets. Still, knowing that Kaitlyn is there to watch her back, as it were, has provided Quinn with a certain level of familiarity and comfort that she’s about to lose.

The tickle gets a little stronger, but Rachel still hesitates.

“What…what do you think you’d want to do if you don’t live with them?”

QUINN: She worries her lower lip for a moment, contemplating Rachel’s question. It’s something she’s been thinking about since last night, but she’s kind of afraid to give voice to it. It’s not really doable.

“Honestly,” Quinn says softly, knowing being honest with Rachel is always best, “I’d love to live with you, but I can’t afford to live here and I’d hate to ask you to move to Bloomfield with me. I know your life is here in New York.”

RACHEL: Just like that, the tickle explodes into a fully realized itch. The thing she hadn’t wanted to voice for fear of Quinn rebuffing her is out there now because it’s been on her girlfriend’s mind as well.

“I’d like to think my life is with you, too.” And preferably also in New York, but Rachel is willing to make some minor compromises on the exact location if absolutely necessary. “And the money hardly matters,” she says, dismissing that concern with a wave of her hand. Rachel has a very nice savings account from her time as Andy and the wise investments that her dad had steered her toward. “I have more than enough.”

She urges Quinn’s hands away from her hips only to hold them both with her own. “I want you to live with me, Quinn.” In fact, she’s feeling increasingly excited by the idea.

QUINN: Warmth blooms in Quinn’s chest at Rachel’s words. She wants that too, but, “I can’t afford it here, Rachel, and I’m not going to mooch off of you.”

She’s suddenly feeling a bit inadequate, wanting to be able to pull her own financial weight in this relationship.

RACHEL: Rachel purses her lips, feeling annoyingly rebuffed anyway, and her grip on Quinn’s hands tightens. “It wouldn’t be mooching,” she argues. “If you want to pay part of the rent, you certainly can, but just your presence in my life is worth so much more than that. I want you with me, baby. I miss you every time you have to go back to Bloomfield.”

There’s nothing that Rachel loves more than the nights that Quinn spends here with her—nights that bleed into lazy mornings—but their schedules don’t often cooperate. Rachel’s extended vacation had been wonderful for all the extra time they’d been able to spend together, but it hadn’t changed the fact that Quinn has two separate and often demanding careers to attend to.

She can tell by the expression on Quinn’s face that she’s still not convinced.

“And…well, I suppose we could look for something a bit more affordable if it’s really going to be an issue for you.”

Rachel would miss this one, obviously, but it’s not like she’s unfamiliar with needing a budget friendly rent. The apartment she’d shared with Riley in Sunnyside had been that, and it was nice enough, if notably smaller.

QUINN: She lets out a long breath, feeling relief at Rachel’s declaration. “I miss you every day we’re not together,” she affirms, giving Rachel’s hands a gentle squeeze. “And I would love nothing more than to come home to you every night.”

Quinn wants to make this work, and Rachel is obviously willing to compromise. “I appreciate you offering to look into someplace that’s more in my budget,” she says then, her relief transforming into excitement at the thought of finally being able to share a home with her girlfriend.

RACHEL: Her heart trips over itself at Quinn’s agreement—it had been an agreement, hadn’t it?—and she smiles widely, bouncing on her toes a little before she tramps down her excitement into something resembling calm , maturity.

“That was a yes, correct?” she feels the need to verify. “Because I’ve been told I can be difficult to live with and…well, we’ve never really broached the subject before,” she rambles, the attempt at calm, maturity rapidly slipping away. She’s unable to help herself, really, because, “You’ve seemed perfectly content to live with Kaitlyn, and maybe you’re just trying to let me down gently because you don’t think you can handle my admittedly driven nature without a mode of escape, and you haven’t actually said yes, Quinn.” The fact that Quinn had been the one to bring up living together hardly matters when she’d immediately followed it with all the reasons she couldn’t.

Rachel’s old insecurities may still be a little bit of a thing.

“I really need you to say yes,” she all but begs, squeezing her girlfriend’s hands.

QUINN: Her head spins a little at Rachel’s ramble, but she hears every word loud and clear, and Quinn doesn’t miss the insecurity mixed with hope shining in brown eyes. She wants nothing more than to wipe away her girlfriend’s fears.

“Absolutely, yes,” Quinn confirms with a wide smile and another gentle squeeze of Rachel’s hands, watching as unrestrained joy lights up her girlfriend’s face. “I want to make this work, Rachel. I want to live with you, and the only reason I didn’t bring the idea up sooner was because I didn’t want to disrupt your life even more. I mean, you’re just starting your workshop. And, well, you know big changes can be challenging for me,” she adds, biting her lower lip.

RACHEL: Relief floods through Rachel, immediately followed by joy. Her mind is already spinning with all the possibilities, but she does hear the mild warning in Quinn’s final words.

“I know, baby,” she vows, nodding her head. “But we can work through the changes together. Open lines of communication,” she recites, recalling the advice that both of their therapists persist in reiterating.

She bounces on her toes again, smiling excitedly. “We’re moving in together. Yay!”

QUINN: Rachel’s excitement is absolutely infectious, and Quinn can’t help but find her completely adorable in this moment—breaking into a wide grin at the sight.

And knowing they have some time to work out the logistics of a move and all that it entails, as well as the promise of open communication with Rachel, has Quinn feeling way more settled than she did last night and earlier today.

“We’re moving in together,” Quinn repeats happily, finally releasing her hold on Rachel’s hands, wrapping her arms around a slender waist and pressing her forehead to Rachel’s, wanting to be closer. “I’m so happy you want to do this with me.”

RACHEL: Rachel’s hands slip around Quinn’s back, and she gazes into sparkling hazel eyes. This close, she can see every tiny fleck of gold and green reflected in the light. “I want to do everything with you,” she breathes out tenderly. “I can’t wait to live with you.”

She tips her head up, pressing a soft kiss to Quinn’s smiling lips. She hadn’t imagined this morning that she’d be taking such a momentous step with her girlfriend today, but she’s so happy they’re going to do this together.

QUINN: Quinn’s eyes momentarily flutter closed at the feeling of soft lips pressed against her own, feeling warm all over from Rachel’s declaration. She wants that too.

‘I’m so incredibly lucky,’ Quinn thinks, excited about all the possibilities, but also so grateful that she has Rachel as a partner in this—their future feeling even more solid in Quinn’s mind. Sure there’ve been bumps in the road, but they’ve weathered things without Rachel being scared away.

RACHEL: Rachel pulls back from the kiss slowly, her body still pressed close to Quinn and held in the circle of her arms. A grin pulls at her lips.

“You know, we’ve just made a very significant, life changing decision, and of course I realize that we have a lot we’ll need to do in the next two months.” They’ll need to find an apartment, apparently, and then pack up all of their things from their current apartments. “But I think this very important step in our relationship deserves to be celebrated, don’t you?”

QUINN: “It most definitely does,” Quinn agrees with another smile of her own, but she feels the stirring of desire low in her belly, as various ideas of just how they can celebrate flood her mind. “Should we move things to the bedroom?” she asks huskily, “Or would you rather we celebrate right here?”

RACHEL: Quinn’s husky voice stirs the embers of Rachel’s arousal into a steady fire. “Mmm, I’d be happy to do it right here,” she replies, sliding her hands around to Quinn’s shoulders and beneath the open lapels of her coat, which she’d previously neglected to remove in the surprise of her news. She rectifies that oversight now, slipping the material down her arms. “But I think we’ll have much more fun in my bed.”

She already has so many ideas for how to thoroughly commemorate this day.

Brunch can wait.

QUINN: She helps Rachel remove her coat as desire sings through her veins, eager to move things to her girlfriend’s bed. ‘And soon, it will be *our* bed,’ Quinn thinks, feeling a thrill of excitement.

Leaning down to capture her girlfriend’s lips in an enthusiastic kiss, Quinn let’s out a pleasured sigh, before slowly drawing back once more. “Lead the way.”

RACHEL: Rachel runs the tip of her tongue over her own lips, savoring the taste of her girlfriend’s kiss. Then she gives into the urge to press her mouth to Quinn’s once, twice more, lightly catching Quinn’s lower lip between her teeth before finally letting her break away completely.

Quinn moans in approval of the action, and Rachel grins seductively, gazing at Quinn from beneath her lashes as she catches her girlfriend’s hand and entwines their fingers.

“It’ll be my pleasure.” She winks at Quinn, dropping her voice. “And yours.”

QUINN: A pleasant chill runs through Quinn at Rachel’s promise, and her eyes darken with desire. “Show me.”

She lets Rachel lead her by the hand through the apartment, tossing her coat over the back of the couch as they go, eager to get out of the rest of her clothes and surrender to her girlfriend’s talented hands and mouth.

RACHEL: The moment they clear the threshold of her bedroom, Rachel pulls Quinn back into her arms, playfully nipping a line of kisses along her jaw as she tangles her fingers into silky strands of chestnut hair. She loves the color on Quinn. Of course, she’d loved her as a blonde too. She’d probably love her as a redhead. She really just loves her.

Her hands don’t stay in Quinn’s hair for very long though. She’s far too eager to slip them beneath the material of her shirt and feel the heat of her skin, so that’s exactly what she does.

QUINN: Quinn lets out a hum of pleasure at the feeling of Rachel’s soft hands caressing the bare skin of her lower back before trailing up her rib cage. She’s so glad she decided to forego a bra today.

Her own hands wander lower until they cup Rachel’s ass, squeezing supple flesh through the thin material of her girlfriend’s leggings, and the moan Rachel lets out against her jaw—so close to her ear—sends a ripple of pleasure right down to her core.

RACHEL: Quinn’s hands on her ass bring their bodies even closer, and arousal surges through her, especially when her fingers brush the underside of Quinn’s unencumbered breasts. Suddenly desperate to get her girlfriend completely naked, Rachel jerks her hands to the front of Quinn’s shirt and hastily attempts to fumble with the buttons while she peppers kisses down her long graceful neck.

But her fingers prove too clumsy for her liking, only managing to undo the bottom two buttons before her impatience gets the better of her. With a frustrated growl, she grips the stubborn material between desperate fists and tugs, sending the next two buttons flying across the room and pinging onto the floor.

QUINN: Hazel eyes widen in surprise, and a pleasured gasp escapes from Quinn’s lips at Rachel literally ripping the buttons off her shirt. The look in Rachel’s eyes is practically feral, and it has her own arousal skyrocketing as the final two buttons of her blouse tear away, leaving her exposed. Her girlfriend’s hands slide up over Quinn’s breasts then, teasing her nipples.

Quinn lets out a soft moan at the contact, but then it’s gone, and Rachel’s hands continue upward before tugging forcefully at the material of Quinn’s shirt. It’s such a turn on when she gets aggressive like this.

RACHEL: Rachel only feels a little bit guilty for ruining Quinn’s shirt. She hadn’t even known she could do that, really, but she always has been extremely determined to get the things she wants—and she wants Quinn.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” she promises distractedly as she strips the offending material away from Quinn’s body and tosses it onto the floor.

Then her hands find their way back to Quinn’s breasts and so does her mouth.

QUINN: Quinn’s mouth falls open and her fingers thread themselves in brown locks, holding Rachel close. She couldn’t care less about the state of her shirt right now.

The feeling of Rachel’s mouth—the way her lips and teeth and tongue tease Quinn’s nipples—has Quinn hot and her knees quivering.

“God, yes, Rachel,” she moans. “You feel so good.”

RACHEL: “Not as good as you feel,” Rachel murmurs against her skin before dragging her tongue across a pebbled nipple again. She loves doing this; the texture, the taste, the moans she pulls from her girlfriend. She’d say she’s a total boob girl except that she loves Quinn’s ass and legs just as much.

She moans appreciatively against the soft skin beneath her lips, and her hands slide around to Quinn’s back before dipping down, fingertips sneaking under the waist of her pants.

She reluctantly tears her lips away from Quinn’s breasts, licking a path back up to the pulse point at her neck. “You still have too many clothes on.”

And it should go without saying that Rachel does too.

QUINN: “Mmm, so do you,” Quinn husks, moving her own lips to capture Rachel’s earlobe before licking a path upward, smiling at the shivering moan she elicits. All the while, Quinn’s hands roam down Rachel’s back before hooking into the waistline of her leggings, teasing Rachel’s hips with her fingers.

“You know, I haven’t had my breakfast yet,” Quinn whispers in a sultry voice, her mouth still close to Rachel’s ear, “and I’m in the mood for you.”

RACHEL: Rachel’s knees go weak at the husky timbre of Quinn’s voice, and she moans again, biting into her own lip. “We…we should do something about that,” she rasps, tugging at Quinn’s pants.

She doubts her determination is enough to successfully rip them off, so she has to settle for using them as a means to pull Quinn along with her as she walks backward toward her bed, stumbling slightly as she goes.

“I pride myself in being a good hostess,” she teases between kisses.

QUINN: Quinn chases Rachel’s lips with her own as she’s pulled the short distance to the bed, hungry for more than Rachel’s mouth. Soon the backs of Rachel’s knees hit the edge of the mattress, and Quinn takes the opportunity to grip on to the bottom of Rachel’s shirt, lifting it up and trailing fingers along her sides, eager to get her girlfriend undressed.

Rachel reluctantly stops kissing and holding on to Quinn long enough for her to lift her arms up so Quinn can completely remove the offending garment, tossing it at her feet. Quinn quickly recaptures Rachel’s lips in a heated kiss as her hands dip into the waistband of Rachel’s leggings again, this time tugging them down and over her girlfriend’s hips.

RACHEL: Before she can fully comprehend what’s happening, Rachel finds herself very close to being naked, her backside bared to the cool air of her bedroom and the hot press of Quinn’s hands as they work her leggings down, down, down, right along with her panties.

She can’t be fully blamed. Quinn’s kisses are very distracting.

Quinn’s pants become an even more annoying obstruction in light of Rachel’s current state of undress, and she fumbles with the fastenings in a race to get her girlfriend naked too.

Quinn breaks their kiss with a sexy chuckle, clearly catching on to her intentions. She makes no attempt to remove Rachel’s hands from her zipper, but she does use her body and the leverage of the bed behind Rachel’s knees to gently push her down on the mattress. Rachel has no choice but to temporarily abandon her task when Quinn dips down and pulls her leggings completely away, tossing them behind her to join her shirt.

QUINN: Quinn lifts her gaze up along Rachel’s nearly naked body, eyes darkening with desire as she trails a path with her fingers up the outside of deliciously long legs, intent on landing at Rachel’s bra to remove the final barrier blocking Quinn’s gaze and touch.

But she gets distracted on the way there as she takes in the sight of her girlfriend’s glistening sex, and Quinn instinctively spreads Rachel’s legs wider. The scent of Rachel’s arousal hits her instantly, causing Quinn’s nostrils to flare and her mouth to water.

Without conscious thought, she drops to her knees. Quinn wants Rachel, and she wants her now.

RACHEL: Rachel moans in pleasure at the feel of Quinn’s hands as they travel a greedy path over her thighs. She expects the rest of her girlfriend to follow their path, and her own fingertips tingle in heated anticipation, wanting nothing more than to explore the expanse of smooth pale skin of her very toned body.

They may also want to divest Quinn of her remaining clothes before sinking into her hair and guiding her back for more toe-curling kisses.

None of that happens.

Quinn stays right where she is, sinking down onto the floor between Rachel’s spread thighs and diving in for an entirely different kind of toe-curling kiss. Back arching from the unexpected stimulation, Rachel’s own hands twist into the sheets beneath her as she cries out.

“Fuck, Quinn.” The words come out breathless and needy. “That’s…that’s cheating,” she gasps, reaching one hand down to tangle in Quinn’s hair.

QUINN: Another spike of pleasure courses through Quinn at the curse falling from Rachel’s lips as fingers grip Quinn’s hair; she loves reducing her girlfriend to swearing in the bedroom. But she lets out another soft chuckle at the rest of Rachel’s words, momentarily pulling her mouth away from its warm haven.

“But you taste so good, baby,” Quinn husks, lifting her smoldering gaze. “And I’m hungry.”

Eager to have another taste, Quinn dives back in, and she moans as she takes in more of the heady flavor of Rachel’s arousal.

RACHEL: Rachel has no coherent response to that, just another guttural moan at the heady sensation of Quinn’s all-too talented mouth on her. Her fingers tighten in Quinn’s hair, torn between pulling her away to slow this back down or urging her closer.

She doesn’t pull her away.

Her hips begin to move in time with the rhythm set by Quinn’s tongue and teeth and lips, seeking to increase the beautiful friction, and her free hand trails up over her belly en route to her own breasts. She bites into her lip as it curves in a blissed-out smile because her impatient girlfriend hadn’t even bothered to get her bra off. She can’t be bothered with it either, pushing it up out of the way rather than fumbling with the clasp.

She’s far too busy losing herself to pleasure.

QUINN: Eating Rachel out is absolute heaven, and Quinn could happily spend hours doing so, especially when Rachel’s this responsive—every moan and roll of Rachel’s hips urging her on.

Quinn delves her tongue into wet heat, thrusting it in an out for a few moment before bringing her attention back to Rachel’s clit, kissing and suckling at it and feeling slender fingers tighten in her hair.

RACHEL: She can feel her orgasm building with every skilled stroke of Quinn’s tongue against her sex. Her fingers play at her own nipples—well, the ones not otherwise tugging at her girlfriend’s hair.

She bites into her lip in a vain effort to stifle her escalating moans and whimpers, caught between the desire to prolong this glorious onslaught of pleasure and the need to tumble over the edge as quickly as possible.

When her gaze next drifts down to watch Quinn between her legs, darkened hazel eyes met hers with such single-minded intensity that the very next flick of that wicked tongue coaxes her body to the very brink of ecstasy, and she throws her head back against the mattress as her back bows and she teeters on the razor’s edge for one maddening moment before she willingly falls.

QUINN: Nimble fingers twist themselves into Quinn’s hair and strong thighs tighten around her head, and Quinn sucks harder on Rachel’s clit. The moan that rips from Rachel’s throat as her back bows in pleasure has Quinn’s body thrumming. Her gaze remains fixed on Rachel’s breasts, wanting to not just feel Rachel come but also desperate to see it.

She keeps her mouth on Rachel, gently riding out her orgasm before reluctantly pulling away, pressing soft kisses to the inside of Rachel’s thighs as her girlfriend slowly starts to come back down.

RACHEL: The world around her goes white hot for a moment, then hazy around the edges as her heart pounds in her ears and her lungs burn with the need for more oxygen. Her entire body throbs with the aftershocks of pleasure, and her arms fall limp against the mattress as she struggles to catch her breath.

“That was… I can’t…” She inhales deeply, finally feeling her heartbeat begin to even out. A blissed-out laugh bubbles out, and she grins stupidly up at her ceiling. “Wow.”

QUINN: Quinn’s lips curve up into a smug grin before pressing another kiss to the inside of Rachel’s thigh as she gazes up at Rachel’s spent body.

Slowly trailing her hands down Rachel’s legs, Quinn then pushes herself off the floor, eyes never leaving Rachel as she settles her upper body against Rachel’s, letting out a soft sigh of pleasure at the feeling their naked breasts pressed together. Hooded, brown eyes meet Quinn’s gaze, and her heart swells at the sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs softly before lowering her mouth to capture Rachel’s in a passionate kiss.

RACHEL: She’s barely caught her breath before Quinn is kissing her breathless again. The taste of herself on her girlfriend’s lips starts her body buzzing with arousal all over again, despite the mind-blowing orgasm she’d just had.

She threads her fingers back into Quinn’s hair and parts her lips, meeting every ounce of her passion with fervor. Her other hand finds the sweat slickened skin of Quinn’s back, sliding down until it meets the waistband of her jeans—unfastened but still annoyingly covering her glorious ass.

Rachel breaks the kiss with a playful nip of Quinn’s lips. “You’re very much overdressed.”

QUINN: “Mmm, so I am,” she agrees, wanting to feel Rachel completely. “I should do something about that.”

She drops another kiss to Rachel’s lips before reluctantly pulling away and pushing herself up to stand. Part of her wants to put on a little show of removing her jeans, but she’s way too turned on for that right now—just wanting to be completely naked in bed with her girlfriend.

Quinn hurriedly pulls down her jeans along with her panties while Rachel sits up and removes her own bra. Hazel eyes briefly catch on the black ink tattooed on Rachel’s ribs, but it doesn’t even phase her anymore—especially since it’s also kind of about Quinn and Rachel now.

Needing to be close to Rachel, Quinn steps forward between Rachel’s legs. Strong hands are instantly on her backside, drawing Quinn closer as Rachel presses an open-mouthed kiss to the bare skin of Quinn’s belly.

RACHEL: Rachel’s palms curl around the perfect globes of Quinn’s ass, and she leans in to trace the lines of her abs with her tongue. In moments like this, she truly appreciates the Flight Crew’s training regime.

The scent of her girlfriend’s arousal tickles her senses, and all she wants is to make Quinn feel as good as Quinn had made her feel.

It’s a very short trip from those abs of hers to pert breasts, and Rachel closes her lips around one peaked nipple, happy to resume her exploration of Quinn Fabray’s perfect body. And soon, she’ll have the pleasure of having Quinn next to her every night and waking up with her every morning.

Quinn hums in pleasure, curling her fingers into Rachel’s hair, and Rachel lightly scrapes her nails over Quinn’s backside, pulling another moan from her, before bringing them around to slip between her legs. Her girlfriend is slick and swollen and so ready for Rachel, her hips rolling into Rachel’s purposeful touch.

QUINN: “Rachel,” Quinn pants, desperate to feel more of her girlfriend as she unconsciously spreads her legs. “I need you inside me.”

A soft moan against her nipple is Rachel’s only audible reply, but she takes mercy on Quinn and slides two fingers into her wet heat. A cry of pleasure rips from her throat at the feeling of finally having Rachel inside her.

And then those talented fingers begin to thrust in and out in a steady motion, and all Quinn can do is hold on to Rachel’s head as her mouth continues to pleasure Quinn’s breasts. It’s like an all-consuming fire, burning hotter and hotter with every pump of her fingers and lick of her tongue.

RACHEL: Never let it be said that Rachel Berry doesn’t take direction well. She’s more than happy to fulfill her girlfriend’s request, sliding her fingers deeper and curling them against her hot, slick walls in just the way she knows Quinn loves. The gasps and moans above her, not to mention the fingers tightening in her hair, tell her she’s found the right spot.

Being the very skilled multi-tasker that she is, Rachel finds Quinn’s clit with the pad of her thumb and draws clumsy circles over it while she continues to pump her fingers in and out. The hand that had been happily playing over her ass slips down to urge her thighs further apart so Rachel can have more room to work with.

Quinn releases the sexiest moan, shifting her weight and spreading her legs until she can brace one knee on the mattress next to Rachel’s hip, and her entire body presses against Rachel, her hips rolling urgently. She slips a third finger into Quinn’s tight passage and feasts on the breast under her lips, feeling her girlfriend spiral closer and closer to her peak.

QUINN: Rachel’s fingers are magic, and the addition of a third finger inside her has Quinn teetering on the edge. “Fuck, Rachel,” she begs with a wanton moan. “Don’t stop. Just like that, baby.”

Rachel’s fingers continue thrusting while her thumb rubs deliciously at Quinn’s clit, her own hips rolling in a primal rhythm.

She’s close. God, she’s so close to coming.

White hot heat surges up from Quinn’s core as waves of pleasure course through her body—fingers gripping tighter in Rachel’s hair as her hips spasm, releasing a cry of pleasure.

RACHEL: A smile of satisfaction curls Rachel’s lips, which are still wrapped around a nipple, as she feels Quinn come all over her fingers. She gentles her ministrations but doesn’t stop, encouraging her girlfriend all the way through her climax and drawing out every last tremor of pleasure from her body.

“That’s it, baby,” she murmurs against her skin. “Give me everything.”

Eventually, Quinn’s body goes slack against her, her weight pressing down into Rachel, and Rachel finally eases her fingers out and wraps both arms around her girlfriend. She presses a soft kiss to her clavicle.

“You are so beautiful when you fall apart for me.”

QUINN: Quinn shudders when Rachel pulls out of her, and Rachel’s words bring tears to her eyes. Ducking her head, Quinn leans down to press her lips against Rachel’s.

“I love you,” she whispers against Rachel’s mouth before parting her lips and deepening their kiss—pouring all her emotion into it.

RACHEL: Those words never fail to make her heart sing, and she kisses Quinn back with utter happiness. “I love you too,” she vows when Quinn finally releases her mouth. “So very much.”

She reaches up to tenderly stroke her girlfriend’s cheek. “And I’m really going to love living with you.”

QUINN: Quinn’s lips curve into a soft smile as she’s reminded just what they’re celebrating this morning. “I can’t wait to make a home with you,” she murmurs happily.

Rachel smiles sweetly in return and presses another loving kiss to Quinn’s lips.

Finally feeling some strength come back to her spent body, Quinn shifts her weight then and moves to straddle Rachel, just wanting to hold her for awhile before actually getting into Rachel’s bed and continuing their celebration.

RACHEL: Her arms instinctively slide around her girlfriend’s waist as Quinn straddles her. It’s such a lovely position, and Rachel’s brain may, in fact, short-circuit slightly. But Quinn doesn’t seem in any rush to resume their more passionate activities. Instead, her hands glide tenderly over Rachel’s back and her lips place little kisses across her brow.

Rachel sighs in contentment, tipping her face up to collect a few of those kisses with her lips instead. One, two, three, maybe five, and she giggles joyfully, grinning up at Quinn.

“So will this homemaking include more of this particular position? Because I find I’m quite enjoying it.”

QUINN: “Oh, most definitely,” Quinn promises with a sly smile, quite enjoying this position herself. She’s not in any rush to move from it, but she is in the mood for more of Rachel’s kisses.

Dipping her head, Quinn does just that—pressing her lips to Rachel’s and closing her eyes, so that all she’s aware of is her girlfriend’s soft body and warm mouth.

RACHEL: Rachel’s body is not unaffected by the lazy affection that Quinn is giving her. She’d gotten a bit worked up again while getting her girlfriend off, so it really doesn’t take much to have her body buzzing with renewed arousal.

It would be incredibly easy to lie back on the bed and take Quinn with her, but she allows Quinn to set the pace, deepening and gentling the kiss in alternating turns. She’ll follow wherever Quinn leads her.

Today, tomorrow, and in the coming months until they can find a home to make their own.

[fruitydiaz-archived]

safe (with you)

s5 speculation based on the new bts because idk how to be normal about this

3,049 words

AO3 link

By the time they pull into Eddie’s driveway Buck’s hands still haven’t stopped shaking.

He vividly remembers that day he spent driving around Los Angeles with Abby, searching for her mom, the day they saved the little girl in the pool. He remembers the way he lined his hand up with hers and told her that the first couple of weeks on the job he couldn’t keep his hands from shaking with the adrenaline. But Abby was good at compartmentalizing; her hands never shook.

Buck still hasn’t learned how to do that with the people he cares about. He’s beginning to think he never will.

Eddie had been held hostage for under two hours and made it out unscathed, and yet Buck couldn’t get his fucking hands to stop shaking. He felt like a wire with the coating stripped off, ripped down the middle, frayed open, ready to spark and catch fire at any moment. But he’d been feeling like that a lot lately if he was being honest. Not that anyone asked.

And he didn’t expect anyone to because everyone else had their own problems and it was his job at the moment to just pull his shoulders back and keep it together. That was all he was supposed to do. He could do that.

“Uh, let me get your bag,” Buck mumbles as Eddie opens his side door to climb out. He switches the engine off and jumps out before he can see the glare Eddie shoots in his direction.

He still feels it anyway.

“I can get my own bag,” Eddie says, his tone flat. He feels too tired to argue but there’s an energy vibrating under his skin that he hasn’t been able to shake since they pulled up to the scene and he found himself staring down the barrel of someone else’s gun. It’s making him irritable and jumpy and all he wants to do is climb into bed and forget.

Buck doesn’t even grace him with a response, pulling both of their bags out of the back seat and slinging them over his shoulders, glancing once at Eddie before marching towards the front door.

“Nothing even happened to me, Buck,” Eddie calls after him, following on his heels. “I’m fine.”

Buck still doesn’t say anything as he pulls out his ring of keys and unlocks the front door. He slips off his shoes in the entryway and drops both of their bags by the couch. Eddie follows him into the kitchen.

“Buck - Buck, come on man you don’t have to take care of me I’m-“

“Stop telling me that you’re fine,” Buck growls suddenly, spinning around to face Eddie. “I am sick and tired of hearing it. You got shot, Eddie, okay? Five months ago you got shot and you started having panic attacks and you hid it from me.”

Eddie blinks at Buck for a second, shocked, before his brain kicks back on. Being around Buck is one of the easiest things for Eddie to do, but the moment Buck starts to care too much, when he starts to push - either with wide eyes full of nothing but love and care that make him want to crawl into himself and never come back out - or like this, with venom and anger that coat the underlying fear and worry, it becomes hard.

He defaults to anger. He wishes it wasn’t so easy but it’s the one thing he’s been prepared to do his whole life; fight.

“I wasn’t hiding it from you. I was managing it on my own.”

“You’re my partner.”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t about work,” Eddie stresses, feeling antsy. He turns away from Buck and takes a couple of steps around the corner. He needs to put some space between them. “It was personal, okay? And I dealt with it.”

“Right,” Buck said, voice dripping with the kind of bitterness that Eddie can feel creeping onto his own tongue. “Because you don’t panic anymore, right?”

Eddie’s eyes flick down. The familiar sensation of bile laced with the accusation of liar rises in his throat and he struggles to swallow it down. He still panics; he just didn’t think anyone noticed.

“I can handle it on my own,” Eddie says quietly.

“When are you going to realize that you don’t have to?” Buck pleads, leaning against the counter opposite Eddie. “When are you going to let me help you?”

“I don’t need help,” Eddie says, retreating back and looking anywhere but at Buck. God, he was just trapped at gunpoint for nearly two hours can he catch a fucking break? He feels like he can’t breathe.

“Eddie.”

“I’m fine.”

“Eddie, you got shot.” Buck is begging him to talk about it, screaming practically. And he’s been screaming for weeks, months, doing all but dropping to his knees in front of Eddie and begging him to open up and talk to him about it and Eddie gets it but ultimately. Ultimately.

Eddie wishes Buck would shut up.

You got shot, remember?

He wishes he could make him shut up. He wishes he could make Buck leave his apartment and get back into his jeep and drive to his own place and never fucking talk about any of this again. Because of course he remembers getting shot. He remembers all of it.

He remembers standing out in the middle of the street thinking about hopping into the ambulance with Charlie right before a bullet ripped through his one good shoulder. That’s four times now. He remembers hitting the hard cement and feeling the blood pool under his body, remembers the familiar sickly feeling that comes with the realization that you’re losing too much blood, before you start to lose your grip on the world around you. He remembers staring across the pavement at Buck and thinking it would be okay, because Buck was okay.

He remembers waking up in the hospital, drugged up and confused and searching for blue eyes and a blood-splattered face. He remembers waking up to Ana smiling down at him with watery eyes and he remembers the way she barely concealed her disappointment when he immediately asked for Buck - but he was passed caring at that point. He remembers the day he had to wait, slipping in and out of consciousness, Ana making occasional small talk, until he was finally cleared for more visitors, and Buck came rushing into the room like a vision of something holy, his face clean, his smile bright.

He remembers the moment Buck said he wished he had gotten shot instead and when Eddie slipped back into another drug-induced sleep the only words on his mind were no, not you. Never you.

He remembers sitting on the edge of the hospital bed with Buck, the distance between them too much and not enough at the same time. He remembers struggling to find the right words, fumbling to find his footing, feeling stripped bare as he told Buck that he loved him. But the words came out you act like you’re expendable, but you’re wrong instead.

He remembers never feeling so cracked open and vulnerable in his entire life and it was terrifying. So he did what he does best and he retreated into the shadows and licked his wounds in private and put himself back together as best he could so that the next time someone saw him they didn’t look at him as if he were about to break.

And maybe it was a shit job and he still felt like he was barely held together by string most days but he was doing fine. He was back at work and Christopher was still happy even without Ana around and he was making it work.

So he didn’t give a damn if Buck thought he wasn’t doing enough. He didn’t want to relive the shooting again, he had moved on. He was fine.

He was fine.

Or at least, he was fine up until 7 hours ago when they got a call to an office building that turned into a goddamn hostage situation and Eddie spent the better part of an hour with a gun to his head.

He was fine.

He was fine.

“Eddie, Eddie,” Buck’s voice is loud and sudden in his ear and Eddie startles, staring up at him. He blinks a couple of times before he realizes that he’s on the floor and that Buck’s kneeling over him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Buck’s saying over and over again. “I shouldn’t have pushed you, fuck, I’m sorry.”

Fuck. Another panic attack.

Maybe he can’t pretend that he’s fine anymore.

“Buck,” Eddie says. Buck’s eyes fly to his and Eddie feels the bile rise again when he realizes Buck is crying.

This isn’t the first time tonight that Buck has cried. Over him.

“I’m so sorry, Eds,” Buck says again, his voice worn, and Eddie remembers him screaming. For him. “I just almost lost you again and I’m so fucking sick of it. I can’t keep doing this.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Buck stares at him for a second, eyes wild, before he squeezes them shut and stretches his legs out in front of him, settling down on the floor across from Eddie.

It’s dark in Eddie’s apartment, the only light spilling in from the entryway, cloaking the two of them in warm dim light.

Eddie always found it easier being honest in the dark.

“I’m scared too,” He admits quietly. Buck’s eyes look too blue in the dark.

“I know. I’m sorry I’ve been so pushy. I just…I never wanted to make what happened about me…but I can see you struggling and it’s like - the only thing I know how to do is push. I can see it eating away at you.”

“I want to forget it ever happened,” Eddie says quickly, honestly.

Buck licks his lips. Nervous. “I get that. But…ignoring it doesn’t mean it never happened, you know?”

“It just…feels easier.”

“It’s killing you, Eddie.”

I was never meant to live this long anyway, is on the tip of Eddie’s tongue - but that’s too dark. Too much. Too honest. He shoves it back down.

One day something’s going to take him. Maybe it’ll be a bullet, maybe it won’t. Maybe it’ll be the crushing guilt he’s carried ever since he was a kid, too young to learn what that kind of guilt felt like.

“At least Chris will be taken care of if it does,” He says before he can stop himself, before he can remind himself that that’s something he shouldn’t say out loud. The pained look on Buck’s face feels like a slap in the face.

“What about you?” Buck grinds out, voice still hoarse. “Who the fuck is gonna take care of you - now?”

Eddie shrugs, “I can take care of myself.”

“Bullshit,” Buck snaps. “Full offense but I’ve seen the way you care for yourself.”

“It’s what I do, Buck,” Eddie says, leaning his head back against the cabinets and squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s - I can handle myself. I can’t…do this to anyone else. It was too much for Shannon - hell, even as a kid I was too much for my parents. I can’t.”

“Let me take care of you,” Buck says quickly and earnestly and the words shoot straight through Eddie’s heart. He couldn’t.

“No,” Eddie starts, sitting up straighter.

“Eddie, I can’t lose you,” Buck says with enough conviction to shut Eddie up for a second.

Because some part of Eddie has always been aware of the lengths to which Buck would crawl through fire and rain for him - because that’s who Buck is. Buck is the guy who puts everyone else before him, who will always put his life on the line first. Not because he wants to be the hero - but because he never thinks his own life is important enough to stop and consider the consequences.

Or at least, that’s what Eddie thought. But Eddie’s seen him hesitate more lately. He’s seen him pull back, actually listen to Bobby. And Eddie thought it was the will that was holding him back. And that was almost enough to soothe the constant ache in his chest.

But then Eddie got taken hostage. And it was like they were on that street again. And Eddie watched the fear strike Buck like a bolt of lightning, lighting him up from head to toe, nervous electricity in his veins. He saw the raw determination in his eyes, the devotion and instinct at war with responsibility and promise.

For a second, among the buzz at the base of his skull and the shrill ambiance of police cars, swat, and the ambulance, it hit Eddie. It wasn’t Buck being Buck. It was Eddie. It was Eddie that turned off every switch in Buck’s brain but his inherent instincts. It was Eddie in danger that broke him.

Eddie had never seen it before. And he’s been trying his damned best to shove it in the box labeled DO NOT TOUCH along with all of the other shit he’s been ignoring for the last five months.

It seems like it’s all coming out tonight.

Buck continues, “I don’t. I don’t want to do this without you. I can’t. Five months ago you sat with me in the hospital and - everyone always tells me that I’m reckless, you know? Or that I’m dumb or that I don’t think or that I want to be some hero. But you…you didn’t say any of that. And - and you made me feel like I was important. Like my life…was important. Is important. And I needed that, Eddie. So bad.

“Let me do the same thing for you,” Buck’s on the edge of begging again. “What do I have to do for you to realize that you’re important? That I need you? Because I do. God, Eddie, I need you…”

Eddie stares at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place. He’s never been loved like this before, has he?

Because that’s what this is. There’s no denying it anymore. That’s what Buck and Eddie do. They love each other. With some sort of deep-running unbreakable devotion that wraps around them constantly and pulls them closer and closer together.

That’s what Eddie’s been fighting all these months. The closeness.

Because it was easy before - to keep getting closer to Buck because it was safe, it meant they cared about each other, it meant that Buck would do his best to get Eddie home to his son and if all else failed Chris would have someone who loved him, who would look after him. That was good. That was safe.

But when the shooting happened and I have your back turned into I can’t live without you and Eddie realized that what he thought was a contingency plan that he had been slowly and methodically setting up was actually a living breathing family that they’d built - and all of a sudden the only way he ever wanted to live his life was with Buck and Christopher safely by his side - it wasn’t safe anymore. It was dangerous.

Eddie had been fighting so hard to keep Buck at arm's length so he could protect this system that he had come to rely on. Because now when he looked at Buck all he could see was the love and devotion reflecting back at Eddie. And that was terrifying.

Because Eddie had opened himself up to being loved before. And that ended in years of separation, divorce, and ultimately Shannon’s death. Maybe Eddie didn’t believe in signs - or maybe he just wanted to keep pretending the signs weren’t there. Because he was fairly certain that if the universe did send signs then Shannon’s death was the ultimate sign of them all, a symbol of what Eddie did to people.

He didn’t want to let Buck love him because he didn’t want to risk losing Buck.

But he is risking losing Buck the more he pushes him away…he’s risking breaking Buck. And ultimately he’s risking breaking himself. Because he can’t do this without Buck either.

“I need you too,” Eddie says, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry. I’m just - I’m scared, Buck. I’m so scared.”

He’s crying. It’s like a dam broke loose with the quiet admittance and now it’s all coming out. He’s scared. He’s frightened. He’s terrified. He’s in love.

Buck’s crowding into his space, shoving himself up onto his knees between Eddie’s legs and crushing their bodies together, his long arms wrapping around Eddie and pulling him into his chest, tucking his head under Buck’s chin until he feels safe, protected, in Buck’s arms.

“I’ve got you,” Buck whispers into Eddie’s hair. Just a couple of hours ago they were in this same position, on the grass outside the office building, just after Eddie was released and SWAT rolled in. Eddie thinks that the safest place on earth might be right here in Buck’s arms.

“I can’t lose you either,” Eddie croaks, hands clawing at Buck’s back. “I can’t.”

“You won’t,” Buck says with the stubborn confidence that’s inherent to Buck. And Eddie believes him, he does. “Whatever you need, I’ve got you, okay?”

“I need you.”

“You’ve got me. You always have, Eddie,” Buck whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head.

I love you is what he wants to say. He wants to say it every day; when Buck walks into the locker room and greets Eddie with a private smile like it’s not 6 am and he’d rather be anywhere else, when he bumps Eddie’s shoulder as they walk to the truck, when he pulls his helmet off after a tough call and holds eye contact with Eddie just long enough to communicate are you good?

Maybe he can’t say it just yet.

Maybe this isn’t the right time or place.

But he thinks Buck knows. And he thinks - no he knows, Buck feels the same.

Maybe one day they’ll get there.

But tonight it’s enough to just hold each other, to feel the solid, warm reminder that they’re alive.

It’s enough, for now, to just be together.

[arhvste]

001 MIYA ATSUMU X SHUT UP AND DRIVE SERIES

++ MSBY GARAGE

❝ i've been looking for a driver who is qualified, so if you think that you're the one step into my ride ❞

dt — @rintaroll

“so, what’s it gonna take for ya to praise me a little more?”

you rolled your eyes and huffed, brushing the setters hand off your shoulder.

“shouldn’t you be more concerned about, oh i don’t know, your fans, interviews, your teammates?!” you snapped back as atsumu held both his hands up in defence.

the crowd was loud and still bustling as the black jackals most recent victory continued to stir excitement through the mass of spectators in the high stands. fans were still yelling and chanting as interviewers scrambled to grab the attention of any player they could. multiple had pried for atsumu in fact, alas, all his attention was solely focused on none other than his teams promotional manager; you.

you were chatting to the teams photographer and uploading updates and playbacks onto the teams twitter at the time the blond had bounded his way over to you and here you were, faced with the famous setter leaning on the advertisement boards lining the court diving you from him.

“miya,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you shook your head. “go and talk to some interviewers and get yourself back over to the others, i’m begging you at this point.”

“beggin’ huh?” a boyish smirk tugged at his lips and his eyes stayed locked on your own.

“not in the way your disgusting little mind is thinking of.” you shot back, stepping back from the board and looking back down at your phone where the teams twitter was currently blowing up.

atsumu snickered before standing up straight.

“whatever ya say doll, just hold up a little longer and i’m all yours again yeah?”

you scoffed and shook your head at him before shooing him away.

“i’d prefer you weren’t.”

“lyin’s a bad habit.”

“would you just go already?”

atsumu laughed as he turned to make his way back to the rest of his awaiting team. waving a hand back at you, he turned to face you before shooting a wink your way as interviewers and photographers flooded the scene.

this was a typical exchange of interaction between the two of you. ever since you had been introduced to the team as their promotional manager, atsumu had fixated his interest outside of volleyball onto you. 7 months later and nothing had changed despite his never faltering persistence.

you sighed as the photographer laughed softly before turning to his own laptop to import more photos for you to upload.

“he seems to have a soft spot for you.”

you groaned and switched your phone off, leaning back on the advertisement boards atsumu himself was previously leaning against.

“he’s such a handful.” you stated as the photographer chuckled.

“looks like he wants to be one for you though.”

“i wish he didn’t” you muttered back as the photographer smiled earnestly at you.

“i think we both know that’s a lie, we’ve been working together for a while and i don't think this dread to spend time with him is as evident as you make it out.”

you whined as you sent a soft frown his way.

“trust me, it is.”

“whatever you say.” the man teased back before clicking on the last images to send your way.

thanking him and making your way over to the teams manager and coach, you stood beside them in front of the msby boys and watched them as outlet interviewers shot questions their way.

multiple flashes went off every few seconds as each player flashed a handsome smile to the camera. you scanned over the team and bokuto was excitedly chatting and laughing with the interviewers. you smiled softly to yourself as you let your eyes wander from bokuto over to sakusa who was trying his best to avoid contact with his sweaty teammates and ‘annoying’ interviewers. it was clear he wasn’t as thrilled to be there as the others so you sent an apologetic look his way and mouthed to him he only had to put up for roughly 10 minutes more. he silently wallowed in self pity at that, but that quickly turned to agitation as atsumu dominated your vision.

slinging an arm over sakusa, (much to the latters disgust), atsumu grinned at you and flashed a smirk for a brief second before turning back to give the cameras a toothy grin.

your face dropped back into a frown as atsumu feigned hurt from a distance.

the team manager laughed as she elbowed you gently.

“interviewers might have a little more luck keeping him focused if you were the one interviewing him.”

you raised an eyebrow as you turned to face her.

“he’s like a puppy.” you stated bluntly as the manager laughed.

“a lovesick puppy.” she corrected as you faked a gag.

“why you all think he’s head over heels for me is way beyond me.”

the manager smiled before nudging for you to look at the attractive setter.

“because it's obvious. you break the boys heart every week.”

you watched as atsumu happily chatted to interviewers and forced sakusa to begrudgingly pose for photos and join in with him.

“he’s not my type.” you said as your eyes stayed focused on the blond.

“right.” the manager teased before smiling over at the team's captain, meian, her own boyfriend.

you smiled at the pair’s interaction as the team dispersed after thanking interviewers and fans for their support.

meian wandered over to the manager who happily placed a kiss to her cheek before guiding her off towards the back of the stadium, hand lingering on the small on her back.

you sighed as your own thoughts invaded your headspace. it wasn’t that you didn’t want a boyfriend. you just hadn’t met anyone worth the time yet.

well, that was your go to excuse to tell everyone anyway. the truth was, you didn't even know the limits to your own standards, you just knew they were high when looking for a potential partner.

the feeling of a heavy arm slung over your shoulder forced you back into reality as your eyes flickered up in surprise.

“miss me?” the hot breath and familiar voice teased the shell of your ear as you scowled.

“you wish.” you snapped back as you attempted to duck out of your offender's grip.

“ah-ah, yer coming home with me today.” atsumu smirked confidently as you hissed at him to get off.

“says who?” you argued as the setter looked down at you smugly.

“me.” another voice joined the conversation as you turned to face the owner of it.

your eyes met the coach who was looking at you slightly sympathetically.

“huh?”

“sorry,” the coach began, hand holding the back of his neck. “i know i said i’d take you home, but my wife has some errands she needs me to pick up before getting home and i’d hate to have to drag you along with me this late at night.”

you groaned but nodded understandably.

“luckily, atsumu here was kind enough to offer to be your ride back home.”

“lucky me.” your voice dripping with thick sarcasm as atsumu ignored it.

“yeah, lucky you indeed. do ya know how many girls would kill to be in yer position right now?” atsumu teased, arm still firmly made at home around your shoulders.

“let them kill me.” you glared at him as he gasped playfully.

“ya don’t mean that.”

“i do.”

“you don’t.”

“just take me home already i’m tired!” you threw your arms up as atsumu grinned.

“sure, give me a few minutes to grab my stuff and i’ll meet you round the back of the building, yeah?”

“whatever.”

you made your way towards the back exit of the stadium and were met with other members of support for the team who were waiting for the boys to grab their things from the locker rooms. some players opted to shower after matches while others waited til they got back home. atsumu fell into the category of players who waited until they got home. this was both a blessing and a curse. you wouldn’t have to wait for him for too long, but you would be met with a sweaty atsumu.

this wasn’t technically a bad thing, atsumu had a habit of getting rid of the smell after each match with an expensive cologne you’d never even attempt to pronounce, but he happened to somehow be a little more attractive when he looked worn out and disheveled. you hated yourself for thinking such a thing but you just couldn’t help it. he was annoyingly attractive and it made his personality a little more dislikable in your opinion.

you waited for around 10 minutes before you were met with boisterous laughter ringing through the spacious lounge by the exit.

atsumu and bokuto came striding out from the hall directing towards the locker rooms, gym bags in their hands and ruggish hair that would need taming again eventually.

you sighed as you waited for atsumu to approach you. he bid his goodbyes to everyone and sent a look at bokuto's way. the ace held a thumbs up at atsumu as the others in the lounge looked at each other giggling and smiling smugly.

you raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off as you felt a hand find its way on your waist.

“let’s get going then.” his voice strumming chords through your body as you shivered slightly.

atsumu led you out and down towards the underground garage used by players and staff members whilst at the stadium. you’d never actually seen atsumu’s car before so you had no idea what to be looking for, but atsumu’s hand remained firmly on your waist as he led you over to an array of expensive cars. mentally trying to guess what car belonged to the setter, atsumu watched with a small smirk etched on his face as your eyes scanned along each car. keys hooked around his finger, atsumu pressed the unlock button as your jaw dropped slightly.

of fucking course.

miya atsumu was the proud owner of a jet black 2021 chevrolet corvette with the number plate gracing it in all its glory ‘MIY4 13’.

you scoffed as atsumu’s smirk widened.

“so, ya gettin in or what?”

“into what? my one way invitation to death?”

atsumu snickered as he led you over to the passengers seat.

“i won’t kill ya, i promise.”

you looked back at him, handsome and sharp features making your eyes soften.”

“well, it’s not like i’ll be able to yell at you if you break that promise.”

“exactly.” atsumu grinned as you climbed into the luxury vehicle. the soft leather padding of the seats welcoming you as your weight shifted onto them.

you glanced around the interior as your eyes were met upon. various lit buttons caught your attention as a screen switched on as atsumu opened the drivers door. you were certain the car had way too many features but that’s what made it a luxury vehicle you guessed. the sleek black and red complimented interior was admired by you as atsumu watched your eyes dance around the car. his eyes softened as you visably relaxed a little more. your hand hooked across the firmly threaded seatbelt as you pulled it around you.

you looked at atsumu who’s smirk seemed to have faded. instead, a soft grin was painted across his face as he helped you click the belt securely in place.

“don’t kill me miya.”

“i’ll do my best.” he winked at you before pressing the start engine.

mentally chanting your last prayers, you accepted the position fate had put you in and did your best to stop the stirring of butterflies in your chest as atsumu placed his hand on the back of your headrest and pulled out.

well fuck.

as if he wasn’t attractive enough before, he sure as hell was now. your eyes widened and heart picked up it’s pace as the scent of atsumu’s signature cologne flooded your senses.

his sharp jaw and focused eyes, pointed in the direction of the rear window as he successfully pulled the car out the space. moving his hand back onto the wheel, atsumu turned to smirk at you as you gave him a pleading look. before you could open your mouth to speak, the setter slammed on the accelerator and the engines picked up its volume as your head was thrown back a little as the car sped out the garage exit.

“you little shit!” you cussed out as atsumu laughed as you sped onto the highway through the city.

“ya love the thrill don’t lie.”

“i’m not lying!” you protested as the flashes of bright lights flew past the window.

atsumu smiled as his right hand found its place on the middle of your thigh.

“miya!” you hissed as atsumu tilted his head momentarily your direction.

“ya can call me atsumu ya know?”

“i don’t want to!”

“for such a genuine person, yer so full of shit sometimes.”

you huffed as you gave up letting atsumu’s touch encourage the stir inside of you. you turned and glared out the window at the passing scene as atsumu hummed in satisfaction.

a few more moments of comfortable silence went by, nothing but the sounds of cars zooming past and the soft hum of atsumu’s own car’s engine.

you frowned and bit the corner of your lip as you peaked towards the blond whose eyes were fixed on the road.

“so,” you began, resulting in the player's eyes to flicker your way for a millisecond. “why are you so hooked on me?” you questioned.

you held your breath as you finally voiced the concern that had been playing on your mind for a while. you rarely had moments of privacy with the man despite his infatuation and demand to be around you.

“am i not allowed to be?” he challenged teasingly as he sqeezed your thigh slightly.

you wanted to force his grip off of you, you really did, but something about it felt so natural you just couldn't.

“miya.” you sighed and shook your head.

“atsumu.” he corrected as you turned to face him properly.

“look, you’re just my type. that’s all there is to it.” he replied simply,as if it was no big deal to him.

“and just what exactly is your type?” you quizzed as you pulled up at a traffic light.

slowing the car to stop for a while the light was red, atsumu turned his face to look at your own before he flashed that boyish grin you’d unknowingly grown rather fond of.

“you.”

and with that, the world threw you back into fast motion as the green light flashed, highlighting his face before he hit the acceleration again making your eyes widen.

“atsumu…” you sighed quietly as the adrenaline brought more life into his eyes.

it wasn’t that you hated atsumu. it wasn’t that at all. he was just someone you didn’t see yourself seriously with. someone so out there and demanding of the world. you had always envisioned yourself with someone a little more down to earth, someone with a stable job with a lowkey personal life, a person who took life at a comfortable pace. you had never seriously considered being with someone like miya atsumu. someone who demanded the world's attention, dominated every scene he was put in, who took life at the speed the highest the accelerator would go. someone so big, so bright. you never imagined someone like miya atsumu would take interest in someone like you. you were opposites stuck in an entanglement of professional lives.

out of every person in the world, the universe had decided miya atsumu would become the man who ticked the boxes to your unknown standards. you just hated to acknowledge it.

pulling off the highway, atsumu drove through the less busy roads as your apartment complex came into vision. half of you wanted the ride to be a little longer, but the other half of you couldn’t wait to lock yourself in your apartment away from the man who caused turmoil inside of you.

atsumu hummed as he pulled around the back of your complex. the roads were quiet and the soft lights of other buildings gleamed off the vehicle as the golden light flooded through the tinted glass of the windows, pulling attention to the boyish, but charming features of his face.

you sighed as he pulled the car to a stop and let the engine settle down. you stayed like that for a moment as the two of you sat there packed in the quiet parking lot.

“listen, I meant it, i really do like you.” he said as you studied his eyes for any signs of him being ingenuine; you couldn't find any.

your eyes softened as you leaned on the headboard.

“miy- atsumu.” you began quietly as his eyes admired your form. “it’s not that i don’t like you or anything, it's just- i don’t know if you’re my type.” you confessed as your heart hammered against your chest.

“well, you just called me by my first name, that’s gotta count for something right?”

you looked up at him and locked your eyes into his honest ones. you sat up and turned to face him as he took both of your hands into his.

“look, i get it, i’ve been annoying since day one-”

“-annoying is an understatement.” you cut in as atsumu playfully glared at you.

“rude. anyways as i was saying, i might’ve come across as a little too strong from the start, but there's just somethin’ about you. i just can’t seem to leave ya alone.” the blond confessed honestly as his warm, calloused hands held yours tightly.

“atsumu, i just don’t know.” you shook your head as he held onto your hands tightly. “i just don’t know what i’m looking for.”

“let me help ya find it in me then.” he pleaded softly, a small grin tugged at his lips.

you cast your eyes down to where your hands were being connected by him. the stir in your chest sped up as your heart was slamming against your chest at this point.

“atsumu i just-”

cutting you off, atsumu pulled your hands away from each other as he moved one up towards your jaw to cradle your face gently. dark golden eyes melting at the sight of you close up, atsumu pulled your face in closer to his and your heart just wouldn’t let you pull away. his lips finally met your own after what felt like an eternity and it was if yours were made to fit against his.

his hand moved towards the back of your neck as he encouraged you to move closer. you leaned closer letting your own hand find its way against atsumu’s broad chest.

the kiss deepened as you gave access to the setter’s tongue as he dominated your movements. small gasps and whines were heard in the silence of the parking lot as neither of you had it in your to pull away. atsumu’s hand was securely at the back of your neck with the other gripping your waist as you groaned at the slightly uncomfortable position.

pulling away, the two of you breathed heavily as you leaned back in the expensive leather seat as atsumu stared at you softly.

“what the fuck was that?”

“our first kiss as a couple.” atsumu teased but failed to stop the wide smile spread across his face.

“who said anything about being a couple?” you shot back as atsumu found your hand once more, lacing your fingers together tightly.

“your body language. you kissed back.”

“i-”

“msby setter miya atsumu as yer boyfriend, wow, arent’cha just the luckiest!”

you playfully hit his chest as he laughed.

“keep it up and that’ll be ex-boyfriend.”

atsumu’s eyes lit up as he grabbed your hand again and held it tightly.

“so ya admit it! i’m yer boyfriend!”

you giggled seeing how genuinely excited he was over it.

“for now.” you hummed as he pouted slightly.

you cupped his jaw and leaned to press a soft kiss to his cheek causing heat to rise to his face.

“let’s just, take this slow though okay?”

“don’t tell me that while sittin’ in this car.” he joked as you groaned against him.

you leaned back looking back into his bright eyes as his gaze softened.

“i’m kiddin’, we’ll go as fast as ya want, and i promise not to kill you on the way.”

you snickered as the blond beamed at you.

“i’m holding you to that.” you smiled as atsumu pulled your face in closer once more. leaning forward to better prepare yourself, you allowed yourself to melt into another deep kiss with the man you would now call your boyfriend.

you never saw yourself being with someone who took life at a fast pace. someone who demanded the world’s attention without verbally calling for it. you never saw yourself falling for someone like that.

but here you were, with the man who ticked all of those boxes easily. the type of man you insisted wasn’t your type, turned out to be the blueprint for your exact type; you just weren’t aware of it until miya atsumu insisted you did.

++TAGLIST! @crescenttooru @miss-angel-ash @sarahvvictoria @babierin @fxncyoomi @s0utien @toobsessedsstuff @omibaby @kenkodzu @sugabeaniee @lovesunas @slutawara @bunny-on-crack @shouyouorange @memorableminds @whootwhoot @yikes-buddy @sweetsamus

[professorrw]

Safe House

Pairing: female reader x Steve Rogers

Request: Reader and Steve get stuck in a safehouse which just so happens to be a log cabin in the woods. It's winter and super cold, enter one of my favorite tropes: sharing body heat to keep warm. They end up confessing their feelings for one another and super fluffy cuddling ensues.

Warnings: fluff, love confession, mission, weapons, mentions of violence

A/N: I’ve decided to quit copying and pasting the same author’s note over and over. Just know that my taglist is open, my requests are open, and if you enjoy my writing please like, comment, and reblog! And when I get requests from AO3 I’ll put the request so you guys can have a kind of synopsis.

It started with a mission in Russia. It was winter and a dreadful one at that. The snow was coming down heavily. It was halfway up your calves and every step required far too much effort. It was supposed to be a quiet mission. You weren’t supposed to raise any alarm. You were just scouting. You were stationed on a hilltop with Steve and your job was to just observe for a few hours.

Binoculars in hand you surveyed the entrance to the compound.

“It looks like they have five or six of them at the gate. Two on posts right in front of the door and four on the ground. They’re all carrying guns.” You lowered your binoculars and pulled your mask back over your face.

“Hm… okay. Can you see past the walls at all?” He pointed at the iron fence that surrounded the compound. It was over twenty feet tall and impossible to climb.

You raised the binoculars back up and zoomed them in. You had to point them at just the right place to be able to even see the ground inside. It was crawling with guards and other personnel. If you were to break in there would be a hell of a fight.

“Swarming with guards from what I can tell. All with armor on and weapons in hand. Whatever their protecting must be pretty important.” Every word you spoke was creating clouds in front of you from how cold the air was. The snow was biting at your face and as soon as you were done talking you pulled your ski mask back up. You and Steve both were bundled in snow gear and coats but the cold was penetrating them.

“Here, you should eat something.” Steve held out a thermos and spoon and you took it. You unscrewed the lid and sat up. The whole front of your coat was packed with snow from lying on the ground and you batted it off with a gloved hand. You passed the binoculars to Steve so he could take a look himself.

You couldn’t see your partner's face but you still knew exactly the expression he was making. His brows were knit together and his lips were pursed. After knowing him for so long you knew every expression he made. It wasn’t just because you knew him for so long but because you loved him. Genuinely loved him. He was devoted to the team and to everything he did. He never, no matter what, gave up.

You had been partners for so long it was natural that you got close. He trusted you and you trusted him. There was a type of chemistry that made you work in perfect harmony. It was an unsaid understanding that had passed between you two. Steve was a gentleman though. He wouldn’t make any passes at you. It was hard to tell whether or not he felt the same way towards you. At times it seemed that his behavior was simple comradery.

You sipped at the warm soup while Steve looked around.

“We’ll be here for a few hours if we want to know their rotations. At the moment it doesn’t seem like anything’s going on,” he explained. “In the meantime we should eat and double check the equipment.”

You nodded and continued to finish off your food. Steve picked up his own thermos and pulled his mask down, revealing his face. He noticed your staring and smiled. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“No. No, you look fine.” You looked away and smiled out of his view. You finished up your soup and pulled your face mask back on. You rifled through your backpack and checked over your equipment. Everything was still in working order so you packed it back up and leaned against it. Steve was an inhumanely quick eater and was already done with his food too.

He checked his bag and verified that his devices were working. For the next hour you both sat and took turns using the binoculars. Between viewings you would talk. Not about the mission but about random things.

“This wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t cold,” you said.

“It reminds me of Bangladesh in a way.”

“What?” you asked in astonishment. “It’s freezing out here, Bangladesh was warm.”

“Well other than that it’s similar. Remember? We were together scouting just like this.” Behind his mask a small smile appeared on Steve’s face. He remembered crystal clear the first time he realized he loved you. It had been almost two years yet he remembered all the events that took place. It was one of the scariest days of his life.

It was days after the initial scouting and the team was infiltrating the base. You two managed to get split up. Steve didn’t know where you went but then as he was running out he heard an explosion on the other side of the building. He ran back in- He couldn’t help it. If there was any chance that you were in there… 

He ran like his life depended on it. His blood was pumping and his heartbeat was loud in his ears. He covered his face. Dust had risen everywhere and he couldn’t see a thing. He yelled your name but there was no response. Someone collided with him.

“Steve! Steve, what are you doing? Get out of here!” Clint yelled.

“Y/N! Where’s Y/N? Have you seen her?” Steve’s heart was racing and he was frantic.

“No! Now come on-” Steve didn’t stay to hear the end of it. He ran past Clint and further into the building. He kept yelling your name. He was scared. His throat was constricted and he couldn’t breath. The wind had been knocked out of him. Nothing had physically touched him. It was the thought of losing you that rendered him breathless.

A voice called out. Your voice. It wasn’t ahead of him, it was somewhere to the Northwest of him. He ran towards your voice. As he got closer another voice was heard. “Y/N get back here! It’s dangerous! This whole place could collapse at any second!” Natasha’s voice.

“Y/N where are you?” Steve yelled.

“Steve? Steve! Oh my god you’re alive!” You both ran. You couldn’t see anything so the only thing you could use was your ears. You ran into him and wrapped your arms around him. Tears were staining the corners of your eyes and making them sting worse than they already were. Steve clung to you, convinced he would never be able to let go.

“You’re okay,” you whispered. “I thought you were here. I thought you got caught in the explosion.”

A choked laugh came out of Steve’s mouth. You were worried about him too. You were worried about the super soldier dying. You risked your life to run back and find him. He had risked his life to come back and find you. Because of all the people there- of all the people he knew- he was most afraid of losing you.

“Steve! Steve, look!” you leaned over and shook Steve, who had zoned out. You pointed to the compound where someone was shouting and soldiers were starting to run out of the gates. With your binoculars you saw someone. Someone that was looking at you.

Static came from your walkie-talkie. “Get out of there you two! They know you're there! Go to the safe house! Hurry!” Natasha’s voice was crinkly but you could make out the fear in it.

You looked at Steve for a second and got up. You put your bag on and started running towards the snowmobile. You swung your leg over on the back of it and when Steve got on you wrapped your arms around his waist. He turned the key and you were off.

You could hear shouting in the distance behind you. You could see a speck, which you assumed to be a soldier, at the spot you were using to scout. He was the first to get to the top of the hill and he could see you. Gunshots rang out in the air. You clutched Steve’s waist as you wove in and out of trees.

The voices died out after a few minutes. You were trembling. The wind and snow was whipping your face. You couldn’t look around anymore or else you would get frostbite. You pressed your face against the back of Steve’s coat. It was slick and cold but it was better than nothing.

You could feel the shift from being on flat land to being on a slope. Steve drove down the hill and past hundreds of snow covered trees. He drives for over two hours before he comes to a stop. You lift your head and look around. You had never been to the safe house but it was a nice little log cabin surrounded by woods.

Steve could see how violently you were shivering and ushered you into the cabin. It was pitch black inside and when you flicked the light switch nothing happened.

“Come over here and I’ll light a fire. You should take off your coat, it’s wet.” Steve kneeled by the fireplace and threw in a match he had lit. The fire grew bigger and the room was illuminated. You hung your coat up on the rack next to the door and shuffled over to the fire. Steve had already sat down and discarded his coat. You sat down as close as you could to the fire without actually getting burnt.

You were still shivering. The room itself was cold and the only thing being warmed was your front. The biting chill that you had been feeling for hours was still there. You rubbed your hands together.

“Are you cold?” Steve asked.

“Y-Yeah.”

Steve scooted closer to you and opened his arms. “We’ll be warmer this way.”

You nodded and he wrapped his arms around you when you got in his lap. Your back was pressed against his chest and you could feel the rise and fall of it. He was nice and warm and even though you were freezing and hiding from bad people you wished that you would be in his arms more often.

“This isn’t so bad,” Steve said. His voice was right behind your ear and you could feel his breath against it when he spoke. It sent shivers throughout your body.

You let out a little nose laugh. “You don’t think so?”

“No, because I’m with you. Nothing seems that bad when I’m with you.”

A fuzzy feeling erupted in your body. You turned around to look at Steve. His kind blue eyes were looking into yours and a soft smile was on his face. You swallowed. This was the first time you had been in such close proximity. Your face was inches from his. You could just lean in a few centimeters and you would kiss.

Steve noticed that you were looking at his lips. He couldn’t judge you- he was looking at your lips too. Your eyes flickered to each other and you both leaned in. Your eyes closed and your lips met. All that waiting, all those years of built up feelings had finally come out.

You parted and Steve pressed his forehead against yours. You reached your hand out and pressed it against Steve’s cheek. He placed his hand over yours.

“Y/N I love you.”

“I love you too Steve.” You weren’t breathless but the way you said it was like you had been holding it back for years. And you had. A tear pricked at the corner of your eye and you laughed. Who knew that the thing that would make you two confess was being trapped together in a safe house?

You scooted back against Steve and he wrapped his arms around you again. He kissed the top of your head and you sat like that until you eventually moved to the couch. A few hours later your walkie-talkie beeped and you were alerted that Natasha was on her way to pick you two up. Oh how delighted she would be when she found out what had happened.

[bloodfromthethorn]

Sleep is the Best Cure

“Jack? What-” Mac blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision even as he automatically relaxed into his partner’s hold, trusting him to keep him up while he struggled his way back to the surface.

“Pretty sure you’re going on about 72 hours without sleep and you’ve had, what? Three? Separate traumatic situations in that time? Not much of a surprise you’re about to crash hard.”

Tag to 2x11 and 2x12. Also on AO3. 

..

Mac’s eyes surveyed the wreck of his living room with a building sense of dread. The last few days felt like little more than a blur in his memory and he didn’t think he’d had a chance to pause for breath during any of it. Now that he had a moment to himself, he couldn’t help but worry that the world was about to come crashing down yet again, with him standing right in the middle of it. 

Charlie’s attention had been drawn away by one of the team responsible for lifting the barrels out from beneath the floor, while all around them Phoenix personnel were cataloguing every item they could find just in case one of them might grant a clue as to the Ghost’s whereabouts. Mac considered moving to help them - or perhaps back Charlie up in what looked as though it might be descending into some kind of argument about proper procedure - but the instant he took a step to do so, sharp, blinding pain struck him right between the eyes like a lightning bolt. 

It was there and gone in a flash, but it left him so startled he staggered back a step in surprise. A hand snatched at his arm before he could do more than sway, tugging him carefully against a supportive warm body. “Easy there bud.”

“Jack? What-” Mac blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision even as he automatically relaxed into his partner’s hold, trusting him to keep him up while he struggled his way back to the surface. 

“Pretty sure you’re going on about 72 hours without sleep and you’ve had, what? Three? Separate traumatic situations in that time? Not much of a surprise you’re about to crash hard.”

“I’m- I’m okay.”

“Yeah man, ‘course you are. But maybe we should get you some sleep, yeah?”

Mac’s head still felt like it was floating some way above the rest of his body, foggy and distant, but he was still able to feel himself frown as the suggestion stuck a chime wrong somewhere. “Can’t,” he managed. “House is in clean up.”

“Matty’s got it covered,” Jack said, sure and steady. “And while she’s getting everything here sorted, you can crash at my place.”

That did admittedly sound amazing, but Mac forced himself to mumble a negative and reclaim some of his own weight, shaking his head in a vain attempt at clearing out the cobwebs taking root. “No, I need to help Charlie,” he said stubbornly. 

The arm Jack had around his shoulders turned to steel, not letting him move away. “Charlie is doing just fine. He knows what he’s doing and he’s not the one dead on his feet right now. It’s okay man, it’s over. You can hand the reins over to someone else for a bit.”

With his vision steadily clearing, Mac could finally make out Jack’s worried face at his shoulder, watching him closely for any sign he was about to take another nosedive. Beyond the concern though, it was clear as day that Jack was starting to flag just as badly as Mac was, with pale skin and deepening crow’s feet emphasising the slight squint he’d picked up to combat the dryness of his eyes. “You’ve not slept either,” he pointed out unnecessarily. 

Jack huffed something that might have been a laugh if he’d had the energy for it. “True enough, but I also wasn’t arrested and I haven’t spent the last twenty hours working on defusing two bombs simultaneously.” He gestured vaguely around the wreck of Mac’s living room with his free hand as though to encompass everything that had happened. “I’m good to drive us both back to mine and then I’m planning on passing out until at least tomorrow. That plan sound good with you?”

Honestly, now that Mac was aware of his own fatigue, the exhaustion felt like a physical weight on his body and the very thought of handing over his safety to Jack and drifting off for a couple of hours sounded like heaven, but he knew his job. Once an EOD tech, always an EOD tech, and there was still a lot of explosive material in his house that needed dealing with before anyone in a mile’s radius would be safe. He had work to do. 

The sentiment must have shown on his face, because Jack went right back to frowning. “No, man, cut that out. Even if there wasn’t a perfectly capable bomb tech right over there, you’re in no state to be handling explosives. You’re shaking.”

Mac glanced at his own hands to confirm that yes, his whole body was indeed wracked by fine tremors that he couldn’t seem to stop. That… didn’t seem right. Since joining the army he’d had countless sleepless nights, both intentional and unavoidable, and while he knew he must be getting close to his limit of endurance, he was usually steady handed. Sort of an occupational requirement, really. 

“Something’s wrong,” he murmured to himself, still looking at his trembling fingers. 

With a heavy sigh, Jack tugged on him until he was pushed, unresisting, onto one of the bar stools and propped up by Jack’s warm palms on both of his shoulders. “What’s wrong is that you’ve been running on nothing but adrenaline and coffee for two whole days. Just ‘cause you’ve not been dodging bullets doesn’t mean you haven’t been going through the wringer. You’re exhausted. That’s all it is, bud, promise.”

Well, if Jack promised then Mac would believe him. Jack would never lie to him and he always seemed to know Mac’s hurts even before the man himself did. Something about it still didn’t sit right with him though. “Was dodging bullets,” he corrected, slightly petulantly, as he remembered handcuffs around his wrists and the desperation of trying to find a solution using nothing but a bullet and a ballpoint pen. 

One of Jack’s hands drifted up his shoulder to cup the back of his head comfortingly in a move that Jack liked to use when he wanted to check Mac’s pulse without him knowing. “I’m okay,” he mumbled again in protest, but didn’t pull away. 

“Yeah, I know you are. You’re pretty out of it though bud. Reckon you’re not going to remember this conversation tomorrow, huh?”

That was probably a fair assessment, honestly. With no witty retort lined up and thoroughly lacking the energy to search for one, Mac just hummed agreeably, blinking at him as his vision went wobbly again. 

Jack sighed. “Okay, I’m calling it. I know you want to help out here, but you need rest and you’re not going to get it while there’s a Phoenix clean-up op happening in your living room. And since I’m not letting you out of my sight just yet, you’re coming home with me, yes? Good.”

He finally broke his attention off from Mac to cast a glance around the room at large and caught Matty’s eyes, gesturing to his semi-conscious partner with a small head tilt. “I’m taking this one home.” He didn’t leave any room in his tone for argument, but softened it by adding, “If you need us, call me.”

Thankfully, as much as Matty might be a hardass when her job needed her to be, she was also one of the most observant people Jack had ever met. Her eyes took them both in with a single look and recognised the exhaustion staring back at her. She nodded with a soft smile. “Take as long as you need. We’ve got this.”

He spared enough time to shoot her a deeply grateful look before his entire attention turned back to Mac, who appeared to have been trying unsuccessfully to use the brief pause to rally himself. Unfortunately for him, he was long since out of any reserves to draw off; the best his attempts got him was some slightly more aggressive blinking. 

“Okay hoss, think you can stand up for me?” From the way Jack was having to keep him steady, it was obvious that Mac’s balance had completely gone to shit, but he obediently pushed himself upright and managed to at least keep his knees locked to take his weight. “Alright man, you’re doing great. Let’s get outside and get you sitting down again, yeah?”

Getting Mac outside and into the car turned out to be an exercise in extreme patience. Out of it as he was, he seemed to consistently forget where they were going and why, and made several attempts to turn himself around to go and help Charlie even though he could not more obviously be beyond that particular task. Each time Jack would nudge him back in the right direction with a soft push and a string of gentle words that seemed to more or less do the trick. By the time Mac was carefully folding himself into the passenger seat, the kid was scarcely still conscious. 

“That’s right, you just sit there and let Jack get you home, yeah?”

That Mac didn’t even groan in protest at Jack referring to himself in third person said a lot for his mental state. Chuckling to himself, Jack rounded the car and nodded at Bozer who had appeared at the front door to see them off. 

“I’ll get the house sorted as soon as I can,” he promised. “Make sure everything’s nice and clean when he gets back.”

“Appreciate that. But make sure you get some rest yourself, okay?” He said sternly, sending him a steady look. “Today’s been a long day for everyone, you included.”

“We’re good Jack. Matty will take good care of me and Riley. You just worry about Mac.”

Jack snorted, momentarily letting his bone-deep exhaustion show on his face. “As if I ever do anything else.”

Mac was thoroughly dead to the world when Jack slid into the driver’s seat beside him, his head tilted awkwardly against the window and his arms wrapped tight around his middle. It looked wildly uncomfortable, but the journey was only short and now that he was actually out for the count, Jack was loath to disturb him until he had to. Instead, he jammed his keys in the ignition and headed for home without another word. 

Tired as he was, Jack drove more carefully than he was usually of a mind to and as a result ended up taking a full half-hour to make it to his apartment. Mac didn’t so much as stir the entire time. If it hadn’t been for his breath fogging against the glass of the window, Jack might have resorted to feeling for the pulse in his wrist just to be certain that he really was still there, still in one piece. After everything he’d been through in the last three days, the fact that the worst physical damage he would have to deal with would be a few scrapes and a hefty dose of exhaustion was something of a miracle - and Jack would still trade almost anything for the chance to go back and spare him of all of it. Mac had never deserved the shit that got thrown at him day in and day out, but it rarely came so thick and fast. 

And physical condition aside, Jack knew that Mac wasn’t getting away from any of it without some new mental baggage. 

But that was a problem for tomorrow, at the earliest. Right now all he had to worry about was getting 6 foot of mostly-catatonic secret agent up several flights of stairs, preferably without drawing any attention. Easy. 

Mac did make a valiant attempt at consciousness after a few gentle shakes from Jack, but it was clear the window of opportunity for his ability to hold his own weight had closed some time ago. In the end, it was left to Jack to duck under his shoulder and do his best to balance them both as they hobbled unsteadily up the fire escape. The lobby would have granted them an elevator, but with them both on their last legs, Jack didn’t want the attention.

No doubt they must have looked comical - or perhaps just drunk - but they made it in the end, and without anyone falling down the stairs to boot. Jack was going to count that as a win. 

“Mac, you still with me brother?”

There was a vaguely attentive hum. Mac’s eyes didn’t open. 

“You happy to share the bed or are you gonna make me sleep on the couch?”

Another hum that Jack chose to take as ambivalence. In truth the question was somewhat redundant - the pair of them had shared far closer quarters than a king-sized bed before, and Mac would never turf Jack out of his own room, especially when he was just as desperately in need of rest. Asking was more of a formality than anything. 

There was a second brief deliberation when Jack managed to get them both into the bedroom as he tried to weigh up the chances of him being able to bully Mac into changing into some borrowed sleepwear. In the end, he figured it wasn’t worth the hassle and just calmly battled him out of his jeans and his dust-covered henley before tipping him beneath the covers. With his consciousness waning once more, Mac offered little more than a sleepy grumble as he burrowed down beneath the blanket and went still once more. 

With a weary chuckle of genuine relief, Jack ran through his own preparations as quickly as his tired body was capable of before finally, finally folding himself into the other side of the bed. After everything, the sensation was heavenly. 

There was a long stretch of motionless silence, broken only by their steady breathing, and Jack felt the fiercely alert, wary section of his brain finally start to cede control to the comforting embrace of sleep. It was over; Mac was safe, the bomb was defused, no one was in prison, and Cage would be just fine after a bit of recovery time. Jack was free to let his guard down at long last. 

It wasn’t an easy task. For the next five minutes he struggled with slipping into light dozes that broke off suddenly when his adrenaline spiked, bracing himself against some new danger. He knew that he needed the rest and for once it was legitimately safe to do so, but he had too many years of forcing his body through every possible hardship for it to give up the fight so easily. 

Then, as he always managed to do, Mac provided the solution. After the fifth or so time Jack jolted awake, Mac let out a low, displeased huff and wriggled until he was able to reach out a hand and wrap long fingers around Jack’s wrist in a gentle reassurance of his presence. He didn’t even look as though he was awake as he did it - he’d just sensed that Jack needed his help, and had offered it without thought. Lost in his own exhaustion, Jack thought it was almost poetic. 

Not that he would know, of course. 

Safe at long last, and tangibly aware of Mac’s steady presence at his side, Jack finally let himself sleep.

[detectivecarlosreyes]

A delicate touch

Ao3 | 3k | Rated: Teen | Hurt Carlos / Tarlos 

Summary:  Carlos gets injured at work and ends up at the hospital before being sent home, TK comes home to find him in need of some TLC and does what we know he would do and takes care of him

Tropetember Day 3: Hurt/Comfort / Sickfic / Whump

Of all the ways Carlos expected his day to go, he wasn’t expecting this.

Though, how could one expect to be chasing down a perp on foot in the late hours of the afternoon to an abandoned building where they could be hiding anywhere. He radioed his position for backup and his partner was already circling her way around to the other exit.

Carlos couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease over the situation as he stepped inside the threshold to assess its interior. There were sheets of opaque construction plastic hanging from the ceiling. Portions of the wall, incomplete in its framework, still in need of drywall. From where he was standing, Carlos could only assume that through the door ahead of him, he would expect to see much of the same throughout.

Maybe he and Mitchell should have stuck together.  

At least then he would have the backup for what was about to happen.

The man they were after came charging out from behind the plastic sheets in a side-on assault from the doorway where Carlos was standing. He didn’t have the time to react before a swinging hand connected with the side of his face, hard enough that Carlos knew it would instantly bruise.  

It didn’t help to know that the man in question was a known bodybuilding steroid user and had the muscles to boot. Carlos couldn’t even get his gun around before a hand grabbed on the front of his uniform and he was literally lifted off his feet and thrown several feet into a stack of metal beams that were hidden behind more sheets of plastic. The impact causing his breath to escape him all at once.

He lay there in a stunned stupor for a moment as he regained his breath, pain blossoming along the left side of his ribs and back. With a groan he rolled from his back off the beams onto his hands and knees, eyes following the retreating silhouette of the perp exiting through the door and steeled himself to get back on his feet and give chase.

He was prepared to ignore the lancing pain each breath sent to his ribs and winced with each step it took just to get back to the doorway. He breathed out a shallow sigh of relief upon seeing the flashing lights of the requested backup had already arrived and were taking the perp into custody, thankful he wouldn’t have to send himself on that painful mission. Watching them struggling with four officers to get him in the back of one of the patrol vehicles, provided Carlos with some modicum of relief from his innate sense of embarrassment from being overpowered so easily.

With an arm wrapped around his side, he radioed for Mitchell with an update and moved towards the corporal who had taken charge of the perpetrator’s apprehension. When she caught sight of him, she moved to meet him, eyebrows raised in thinly veiled concern at his appearance.

“You’re looking worse for wear Reyes. What happened?”

“I stepped inside one of the entry points to assess where he could have gone and he charged me, ma’am,” he said, gesturing to his blooming cheek, where he felt the drying crust of blood which he hadn’t noticed before, “knocked me, before throwing me into a bunch of metal beams.”

“I am not surprised he managed to do that, considering how much manpower it took to get him under control,” She gave him an appraising look, “report to your CO, let them know what happened, then I’d strongly suggest getting yourself checked out at the hospital. I’d imagine your CO would say the same.”

“Yes ma’am.” He responded with a grimace and turned to leave, seeking out Mitchell who was waiting back at their patrol car and did as the corporal ordered. He wound up at the Emergency Department with his partner in tow, following the same recommendation reiterated by his CO.

By the time he finally got home it was dark. All he wanted to do was wash away the day and fall into bed with an icepack attached to his side. However, thinking about doing those things and actually doing them did not factor in how much torso movement was required.

It was easy enough to get out of his button-down uniform shirt at the station and had assistance to get out of his APD undershirt when being examined but now that he was home, the muscles surrounding the offending ribs had seized up and were spasming with every movement. All he could do was stand in the bathroom half out of his shirt while continuing to remain clothed from the waist down, looking mournfully at the already dark bruises in the mirror that made it near impossible to bend over without pain.

So preoccupied with the task before him, he didn’t hear TK arriving home.

*  *  *

TK entered their home in the late hours of the night, firehouse duffle bag on his shoulder and exhausted from a long and busy 24-hour shift. He knew that from the calendar of their work schedules hanging by the kitchen that Carlos’ own shift would have ended not long before his own, meaning that his boyfriend should already be home, likely already passed out from his own long shift.

With a yawn he dropped the bag by the door, noting with a furrowed brow that the entryway was bathed in darkness, an unusual occurrence for the two of them. It had become a regular habit for them that whoever got home first would leave a light on in welcome, especially if they knew the other would be arriving home in the dark hours of the night.

knowing the man was home after seeing his car in the driveway and keys in their customary place by the door, he called quietly, “Carlos? You still up?” not wanting to wake the man if he was indeed asleep,

He padded through the house, noting that there were no lingering smells of reheated pre-made dinners prepared for such an occasion as nights like these. Toeing off his shoes by the stairs, TK felt the cool temperatures of the wood seeping up through his socked feet as he made his way upstairs to the bedroom.

It’s not until he’s partway up the stairs could he see light filtering from the partially closed bathroom, indicating that Carlos was not yet in bed. Just as he stepped on the landing TK heard the quiet hiss of pain from the man he was looking for.

Concerned and curious at the same time, he peered through the crack in the doorway to see Carlos’ reflection. His eyes were immediately drawn to a deep purple bruise decorating his cheek that had stretched to shadow around his eye as well. He couldn’t contain the small gasp at seeing Carlos hurt and pushed the door wide open, startling his boyfriend and causing him to turn towards him with a pained wince, catching a hand on the basin with a white-knuckled grip.

TK pushed past the door, stepped into the bathroom, and sucked in a breath as he saw what he couldn’t before. The mottled bruising wrapping around Carlos’ side to the back of his ribcage which he could now see in the mirror’s reflection.

“What happened to you?” He asked, ghosting his fingers over the blossomed bruises as his eyes catalogued the small cuts and grazes adorning Carlos’ shoulder and forearm.

Carlos shrugged in the barest of movements with a bite of his lower lip. “Got thrown into a stack of metal beams by a guy I was chasing down today. Bruised some ribs.”

TK could tell that Carlos was brushing over the details, but what he said was enough and the main takeaway TK got from it was that his boyfriend got hurt and was in a decent amount of pain just from the small movement of twisting his body. It was then that he took in Carlos’ appearance, taking note of the shoes still on his feet and the half-worn t-shirt.

Slightly bemused, he bit back a smirk, “You can’t get undressed, can you?”

Carlos just gave him a pained expression as he huffed out a short breath sounding defeated, “No, it hurts and spasms every time I try to move.”

“Come here,” TK said softly turned Carlos enough so that he could easily manoeuvre around him. From here he helped to finish the undressing process, making quick work of removing the shirt, shoes, and pants, minimising the pain dramatically compared to Carlos’ attempts by himself.

TK stood up when he was done, eyes lingering on the bruise to his boyfriend’s face, “Shower?”

“Yeah,” Carlos breathed out shallowly.

TK moved past him towards the door, “I’ll leave you to it,” he paused by the door, half turning, “unless you want some help washing.”

Carlos waved him off, “I think I can handle it.”

“Alright then, I’ll have ice packs and bruise cream for you when you’re done,” he said over his shoulder as he stepped out, eyes already scanning blindly as he tried to remember the last time they had used the bruise cream, and where they would have put it last.

It didn’t take him long to mentally replay the cream’s last use and found it in his bedside table drawer. Triumphant, he put it on the bed along with Carlos’ pyjama pants. Having already showered at the end of his shift, TK got dressed in his own pyjamas before heading back downstairs to retrieve two icepacks from the freezer and two clean dish towels to wrap each of them.

By the time he was back upstairs Carlos was already out of the shower, attempting to dry himself with minimal bending or twisting. TK smirked slightly, rolling his eyes as he picked up the pyjama pants and rejoined his partner, seizing the towel from his hand. He quickly finished drying the spots that Carlos was reluctant to reach before grabbing the pants and wordlessly crouched down, offering each leg hole for Carlos to step into.

“Thanks,” Carlos murmured when he stood up and moved back to stand beside the bed. TK responded with an acknowledging hum as he picked up an icepack offering it with an outstretched hand and a soft smile, “Come on, I found the bruise cream.”

He watched as Carlos stepped towards him, accepting the icepack, and sat on the edge of the bed as he brought the icepack to his cheek with a wince. TK folded his legs underneath him as he sat behind Carlos and untwisted the cap of the tube. He rubbed it between the fingertips of his hands in an attempt of warming the viscous cream and started lightly applying it to the dark purple bruises adorning Carlos’ back and side.

Carlos stiffened slightly at the touch and his breath hitched in obvious pain, “Sorry,” TK murmured and lightened his touch as he smeared the cream over the mottled skin and gently rubbed it in.

There was a sense of quiet intimacy between them as he worked. It wasn’t often that their roles were reversed with TK being the one to take care of Carlos, having been on the receiving end of numerous injures since they’ve been together. In a way, it was nice to finally be able to return the favour.

He could feel Carlos taking quiet measured breaths beneath his fingers, definitely not taking full breaths as he should. TK hummed, “Babe did you go to see a doctor?”

“Yeah,” Carlos breathed out in a strained exhale and shifted uncomfortably.

“And did they say anything about how you should be breathing?” TK probed as he finished up his ministrations to Carlos’ left side, already knowing what the answer should be.

“They did.”

TK scootched up close behind Carlos and wrapped his arms loose and low across his waist, pressing his cheek to the side of Carlos’ neck, “And are you doing what they said to do?” he asked warmly.

“I suppose not,” Carlos admitted in defeat, clearly aware of what TK was alluding to.

“They prescribe any meds?”

“They said to take some Advil if I needed it and they gave me a prescription for some stronger stuff if it doesn’t help.”

“Trust me, I know you want to tough it out but you’re better off taking them so you can breathe properly, I don’t want to see you get pneumonia.” He pressed a kiss into Carlos’ neck and moved off the bed.

“You know?” Carlos asked, concern colouring his voice as he turned his head to look around at him.

TK shrugged nonchalantly, “I may have fallen through an unstable floor once back in my second year on the job, got some nasty rib bruises like you have. It sucked.”

“Oh gee, thanks for making me feel better about it.”

“You’re welcome.” TK leaned in and pecked Carlos on his uninjured cheek, and then picked up the other ice pack from behind him, gently pressing it to the worst point on his ribs, “Hold that, I’ll get the Advil.”

Carlos replaced his hand holding the icepack in place and called quietly to him, “Should be somewhere behind the mirror,” as he walked back towards the bathroom where they kept the medicines. Finding it where Carlos had said, he returned with the box and picked up a water bottle left on the dresser before taking up his place back in front of Carlos.

Carlos abandoned the icepack he had been holding to the right side of his face in favour of holding out his hand to which TK distributed two pills from the blister pack. He popped them in his mouth and took the bottle to wash them down, scrunching his nose as he swallowed.

TK looked at him questioningly as he picked up the bruise cream again and Carlos answered with a simple, “stale water.”

He let out a huffed laugh and shook his head at his boyfriend’s dramatics as he started dabbing away at the now icy skin around Carlos’ eye, making quick work of rubbing the cream into his skin before gently caressing his cheek below the contusion when he was done, “There, how’s that?”

Carlos gave him a soft smile, “I already feel better.”

TK stepped in closer between Carlos’ legs, bracketing his arms around his head and kneaded his fingertips in the back of Carlos’ head as he tilted his face up, giving him a kiss on the forehead, “Much as I would like to believe you, I can’t imagine that the ibuprofen has kicked in just yet.”  

“Well, maybe it’s because of your excellent caretaking skills.” Regardless of his words, Carlos couldn’t completely hide the pain and discomfort from TK. It was plain to see in his eyes.

“Mhm hmm, I’ll take your word for it,” TK said, humouring him as he continued to lazily scrub his fingers against his scalp, “In any case, we should get some sleep. It’s late and we’ve both had long days.”

He stepped back, leaving Carlos to sit on the end of the bed as he turned on one of the bedside lamps and turned off the bedroom and bathroom lights, and flipped back the covers of the bed. With an assessing gaze, he turned back to his partner, noting which side the bruising was on. “How do you want to sleep?”

Carlos cleared his throat slightly and immediately winced at the action, “Definitely on my side.”

“Thought so. With me in front or behind you?”

Carlos stood up with a grimace, “You in front of me, I think, I don’t think I could handle anything touching my back right now.”  

TK nodded understanding what he meant, “In that case, you sleep on my side of the bed.” He offered.

Carlos gave him a tired smile before his gaze slid down to the abandoned ice pack and made a move to pick it up, forehead creasing as he bent over, grunting slightly at the action. He collected the ice pack and cream from the bed and straightened back up, removing the second icepack from his side, and returned it to TK with the other items, an unspoken request for him to put the icepacks back in the freezer downstairs.

“You didn’t want to keep them for tonight? We’ve got a couple more in the freezer to rotate through.”

Carlos shook his head, “Nah, I think I should be right. Think the Advil is starting to kick in.”

“That’s good.” TK shook the packs slightly, “I’ll be right back.”

He returned from the kitchen to find Carlos gingerly easing himself beneath the covers on his side of the bed. He slotted himself in on the other side on his back, allowing Carlos to properly turn onto his side and nestle against him. His top side was slightly leant forward pinning TK’s arm against his side, and a firm arm snaked across his waist, hand tucked under TK as far as it could go like an anchor to keep himself from falling backwards in the middle of the night.

TK craned his neck slightly to look down at Carlos who had his head angled just so on his shoulder that his cheek wasn’t touching anything but air. “Comfy?”

“As much as I can be,” mumbled Carlos, voice already heavy with sleep.

TK reached over to the lamp switch and turned it off, sending the room into darkness. He placed his hand over Carlos’ arm and turned his head against his pillow until his cheek was resting against the top of Carlos’ head. Feeling the steady and fuller rise and fall of Carlos’ chest against his arm.

They managed to stay like that all night, both somehow falling into a deep and heavy sleep. The following next few days had a repeated similarity with TK doing what he could to assist and accommodate Carlos limited movement. Their nights ended the same as the first unless TK happened to still be on shift, then he was replaced by a pillow, in the same position until Carlos could move more freely as the tender muscles around his ribs healed.

Carlos couldn’t remember the last time someone looked after him that wasn’t his parents, it was nice, and he appreciated TK’s diligence even if he went a little over the top with his caretaking. He supposed that’s what you get when your boyfriend is a paramedic who knows what it’s like from his own misfortune. And that’s something that he will always love.

[shhhhyoursister]

enemies to lovers/band!au

okay yeah heres the final one, the big boy, the one im probably proudest of, i really really hope you guys like it!!

Matteo was lucky that the conductor liked him, because showing up 10 minutes late to the first rehearsal of the year was bad, even for him. Matteo wasn’t known to be the most responsible member of the band, and usually the only thing he could be counted on to do right every rehearsal was show up, and show up on time. He adjusted his grip on his baritone case as he sped down the hall of the music department, cursing as he checked the time on his phone again, and when he got to the door of the theater they rehearsed in, he cracked it open as quietly as he could.

“Ah, Matteo!” the conductor yelled from the stage, and Matteo flinched before stepping fully into the room, “You decided to show up! I was worried you quit after playing that really loud wrong note at the concert last semester.”

“Which one?” Matteo joked back, knowing that if it was any other professor he would have just apologized and rushed to put his instrument together. He was on a first name basis with Rick, who was probably the most laid back member of the music faculty. Some of the players on stage laughed at the exchange, and Matteo smiled as he popped his case open.

“Just hurry up, we do actually need a full band to rehearse,” Rick said, turning back to his stand with a chuckle, “and poor David looks like he’s going to explode if we don’t start soon.”

Matteo rolled his eyes. As if that would make him set his baritone up faster. He ignored the second wave of laughter that followed the conductor’s comment and grabbed the folder with his music, and made his way onto the stage. He took his seat next to the other baritones, in the third chair, and tried to ignore the glare he could feel coming from the clarinet section.

Matteo was a little upset that he had missed his favorite part of each rehearsal; before Rick got there, when people were still whispering to their stand partners, some quietly tuning their instruments or practicing difficult measures, some tapping their feet and counting out the beats. It felt more alive than when everyone was coming together to play one piece, and while Matteo loved the sound of a full band playing beautiful music, he really needed that calm before the storm. It reminded him that the music that he listened to came from people like him, who had to practice and tune and count and focus to produce the notes and phrases that seemed to flow so naturally.

He risked a glance over at David when Rick asked him to play a note so he could tune the band to it, and, like always, felt a little bit of a shiver run through him when he watched David take a deep breath before playing out a long, perfectly in-tune note. He knew it wasn’t only because of the sound of the clarinet, which Matteo secretly thought was the nicest sounding of all the wind instruments. Although David couldn’t stand him, and Matteo didn’t have too many kind feelings towards him either, it was hard to deny that first of all, David was an amazing musician, and second of all, much less importantly, he was really hot.

Matteo didn’t feel bad for thinking it. Every person in the band who was into men was into David. Matteo would hear girls whispering about him while they were setting up their flutes and oboes, and there was the one guy in the saxophone section who had been trying to get his number for a year. It was old news, but Matteo couldn’t help himself from staring at David when he had long measures of rests, and had to admit that David was the cause of his distraction during some rehearsals.

Rick finished tuning the band, and had them flip to the piece that Matteo was the least confident in. He looked up and took a breath with the whole band when the conductor brought his arms up, and dropped his eyes back to the notes a split second before the downbeat.

Inevitably, Matteo got to a part in the song where he had four measures of rest, and he leaned back in his chair a bit and stretched his neck out. He was counting on his fingers and tapping his foot to the tempo and managed to come back in at the right time, only for Rick to cut them off as he flipped aggressively through the papers on his stand.

“Where is the second page? Why do I only have half of the score here?” He asked angrily, and then huffed and said, “Okay, everyone take out the next piece. David, take over for me.”

Matteo rolled his eyes as Rick walked off the stage, and David took his place in front of the band. David always got the most cocky, smug look whenever he was asked to conduct, and some people rolled their eyes because they knew David was harsher, faster, and much less forgiving than Rick was.

“Okay guys, remember we tried to play this last semester, but some people couldn’t keep up,” his eyes flicked to Matteo, who just shrugged, and then smiled as the frown on David’s face deepened and he continued, “as long as everyone watches me, we’ll be able to get through it. Let’s start at the beginning.”

That won’t be too hard, Matteo thought to himself, and smiled before bringing his lips to the mouthpiece.

They got through the first half of the song with no issues, David going slower than usual to let people warm up to playing it again. Matteo knew that the only reason he hadn’t messed up yet was because his eyes were glued to his sheet music, but he saw that the tempo was changing in a few measures so he would have to look up. Once he did, he caught sight of the serious expression on David’s face, his eyes scanning over the band and darting down to the score in front of him, his arms waving and emphasizing different beats in a fluid and practiced way, keeping the tempo while cuing the other instruments to come in.

“Stop, stop! You were supposed to come in there, baritones, what happened? Are we playing too slow for you?”

Matteo (and everyone else) knew that when David was yelling at the baritones, he was really yelling at Matteo. His animosity was known amongst the other students in the band, so they weren’t surprised to hear a critique aimed at that section of the low brass. That was confirmed when Matteo looked up to see David glaring directly at him, his hand that wasn’t holding the baton clenched tightly around the stand.

They got through the rest of the song with no incidents, Matteo purposefully playing quieter to avoid making any loud mistakes. Rick came back just as David was berating them for speeding up at the end, and he clapped him on the shoulder before waving the missing pages of his score in the air.

“Thank you, David, for re-traumatizing your bandmates. Let’s go back to the first piece, and I promise I won’t yell as much as he did.”

The band laughed and David chuckled (at least he’s self aware, Matteo thought to himself) as he took his seat, with one final glance in Matteo’s direction. They could both see each other from where they were sitting, David being at the end of the second row and Matteo diagonal across from him in the back. He watched as David settled back into his seat and picked his clarinet up, his tongue flicking out to wet the reed, and when David’s eyes shifted back over to him he blushed and looked down at the floor. He scowled, angry that he got caught staring.

***

He struggled through the first week, playing confidently when he could and quieting down whenever he got lost until he could figure out where they were again. Sometimes he found himself so confused he would whisper out of the corner of his mouth, “Where are we?” to his stand partner, and she would roll her eyes before pointing out the correct measure.

The next week of rehearsals, Matteo started out on a much better foot. He was running early as opposed to late, and he hummed to himself as he strolled calmly down the hall leading to the theater. There was one measure of their newest song that he just couldn’t get right, and he flipped open his folder as he walked, knowing that the page with that measure would be at the front. He stopped paying attention to where he was walking, tapping out the beat of the notes on his hip, and just as he turned the corner into the room he crashed into someone leaving, and heard an annoyed, “Are you serious?”

He tensed when he recognized David’s voice, and looked up to see the exact glare he was expecting aimed directly at him. He almost missed the stack of papers that David had dropped, and only noticed when one sheet landed perfectly on top of his open folder.

“Sorry,” Matteo muttered, not knowing what else to say, “let me help.”

“No, I’ll do it,” David snapped back, the glare on his face darkening a little as he snatched the paper on top of Matteo’s folder and said, “I had them organized by section, and by part. You’d just fuck it up. Go set up.”

Matteo took a deep breath through his nose, tired of being torn down every single time David spoke to him, and he took another breath before glaring back and saying, “I wouldn’t fuck it up. I know how sheet music works.”

“Yeah, but if Rick wanted you doing any of this I’m sure he would have asked,” David scoffed, kneeling down so he could gather the papers together, “but he didn’t.”

Matteo bit his lip as felt something angry building in his stomach, and he knew it wasn’t professional or smart of him to do but he couldn’t help but bite back, “Look, we all know that you’re just using us to set yourself up for the future, and that’s fine, but it doesn’t give you the excuse to be a fucking asshole all the time.”

He stormed off before he could see David’s reaction, and set his baritone up with trembling fingers. He was already in his seat and tuned up by the time David stalked into the theater with all of the papers, and Matteo watched with a smug grin as David quietly apologized to Rick for being late before handing off the sheet music and taking his seat. He grabbed his clarinet, his fingers pressing down on the keys harder than was probably good for them, and shot Matteo one final, piercing glare before turning to his music. Matteo smiled to himself as the conductor got everyone’s attention.

***

Things got a little more tense after that.

Getting even more on the bad side of the most talented, and most respected (and most feared) musician in the band was not Matteo’s best idea, but he had no idea how to fix it, and didn’t even know if he cared enough to.

Matteo didn’t know exactly what he was going to do once he graduated, but assumed that he’d figure something out. Pit bands were always looking for fresh talent, so he assumed that he would join one of those and get some menial job on the side while he waited to see where his life would lead. He knew that David, on the other hand, had a plan, and it seemed like their interaction in the hallway led David to believe that Matteo was the one thing standing in his way.

Another week of rehearsals went by, Matteo trying his best not to mess up, and failing almost every session. He knew that his conductor was starting to get a little frustrated, and he didn’t know how to explain that his new bout of issues weren’t coming from a lack of understanding the music; it was just difficult to play when you could feel someone openly glaring at you anytime the first clarinets had rests in the music. He and David hadn’t spoken or interacted at all since the incident in the hallway. They had never really spoken before that, so it wasn’t too unusual, but that amount of glaring was new.

And after a day or two, Matteo started glaring back. He would only do it when David wasn’t looking at him, either focused on the music or counting or watching the conductor, and it felt like the smallest form of retaliation that Matteo was willing to participate in. He knew that he couldn’t talk back to Rick, and he was doing all he could to avoid having to actually speak with David, so the glaring was a good alternative.

It was also a bit of a problem, the glaring. Sometimes Matteo would get lost in his own anger, resulting in him getting lost in the music, and Rick would stop the band and tell the baritones to pay attention to the music, not their bandmates, and Matteo would whip his head back to his music, his cheeks red at being caught.

It came to a head during one rehearsal, the first rehearsal since the glaring had started where Rick had to step out of the room. He handed David his baton and walked off with a wave of his hand, and Matteo noticed David smirking in his direction as he took up the position in front of the band.

“Okay, we’re going to start at measure 46,” David said, his eyes yet again scanning over every member of the band, squinting a little as they passed over Matteo, “the low brass has really been struggling with this section, and I’m going to take it faster so we can see exactly who is having trouble.”

Matteo’s eyes widened as he looked over the part David was referencing, realizing quickly that it was the hardest set of measures for the baritone section out of all of their pieces. He looked up again, trying to look determined despite the nerves starting to make his fingers twitch on the valves of his baritone, and caught David smirking at him again. David raised the baton, and Matteo lifted his baritone to his mouth and tried to focus his eyes on the music.

He managed to play through the first few measures correctly, but his nerves got the best of him and he messed up in one of the worst ways you can mess up as a musician; playing during a full-band rest. He felt his entire body tense up as half the band turned to stare at him, and he knew that it was the perfect excuse for David to go off on him.

“I heard that in the baritones, don’t let me hear it again.” David said sternly, the tip of the baton pointing right at Matteo. He looked mad, but there was something slightly encouraging there too, like he was trying to give Matteo another chance.

Matteo was surprised but grateful that his mistake didn’t send David into a fit and really tried to take that second chance and run with it. They started playing again, and Matteo made it through that measure, and then managed to mess up on the next one. He held one note too long and then played a sharp instead of a flat, and David didn’t stop the band but his head flicked to Matteo and he gave him a look that made his fingers freeze, and it took him a measure to come back in because for some reason that look scared him more than the many critiques and looks he had gotten in the past. David looked furious, as if Matteo was messing up intentionally.

They played through the rest of the section, Matteo getting less tense the more measures he played right, and just as they reached the last measure Rick came back into the theater, the door creaking a little behind him, but enough that it distracted Matteo, who not only played the last note wrong, but he felt his face heat up at the monstrous honk that came out the bell of his instrument.

“Matteo!” David snapped, and his other hand grabbed the top half of the baton and quickly bent it, snapping that as well.

Most of the band  gasped, Matteo included. David seemed shocked himself, staring down at the fractured wood in his hands. Rick walked up to him and without saying a word, grabbed the two pieces, and turned to face the band with a stoic expression.

“I think I’ll call it for today, everyone. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, before dropping a hand onto David’s shoulder and looking up at Matteo and saying, “You two, in my office.”

Matteo gulped, and tried to ignore the look on David’s face as he got out of his seat and made his way over to his case. He put his baritone away slowly, watching as the rest of the band filtered out through the main doors, some shooting him sympathetic looks as they walked out. He might not have been the best member of the band, but he was nice enough that most people liked him enough, and probably felt bad knowing that he was about to get screamed at. He looked away when he saw David walk into Rick’s office hot on his heels, already saying something that would probably get Matteo in more trouble.

He made his way over to the office once he had all of his stuff together, and took a deep breath before knocking on the door and walking in. He entered and saw Rick sitting at his desk, looking annoyed, and David standing in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he had just finished ranting, his face red and his chest heaving, and he turned to fix Matteo with a glare as he walked into the room.

“I don’t know why two of my best musicians hate each other as much as you guys do,” he started, and Matteo’s eyes widened a bit at the bluntness of his statement along with the compliment, “but you need to work it out before next week.”

“Sir, I don’t know if I’d say he’s one of the best-” David started, his voice hiding the hint of a pretentious laugh, and before thinking about it Matteo cut him off.

“You don’t know shit about how I play.”

David turned to him with tight lips and said, “Well, I’ve conducted you before, so I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“Yeah, how could I forget being verbally abused.”

“It wasn’t abuse, if you aren’t going to play right I’m going to say something and I’m sorry if I don't sugarcoat it. I focus on being right, not on being nice.”

“Yeah, obviously.” Matteo muttered under his breath, and just as David turned to him to snap back at him, Rick clapped his hands together, loudly.

“Okay, I know what we’re going to do to fix this.”

***

That was how Matteo found himself the next day, an hour before band was supposed to start, during his only free period of the day, making his way to the music building so he could get to the practice rooms. He was walking slow, making sure to be on time but exactly on time, because he didn’t want to spend a second longer with David than he had to.

To their chagrin, Rick decided that the best way for the two to get along was for David to help Matteo figure out the parts of the music that he was struggling with. He had set up mandatory twice a week private sessions for both of them. Matteo had a feeling they wouldn’t make it past the first week without screaming at each other.

Matteo got to the door of the room he was meant to meet David in, and he could hear shuffling so he knew David was there already. He rolled his eyes and braced himself before pushing into the room.

“Put your instrument together,” David said, not even looking at Matteo as he set two chairs up in front of a stand, “ and get your music out. Let’s not be here any longer than we have to be.”

David finally turned around when Matteo didn’t move, and raised an eyebrow at him. Matteo had been expecting the hostility, and knew what he wanted to say in response.

“If we’re being forced to do this,” he said calmly, dropping his baritone case on the chair and popping it open, “I’m not going to let you be a dick to me. You need to be here just as much as I do. If you’re mean I’ll walk out, and then we’re both fucked. Don’t test me.”

He turned and started setting his baritone up, not waiting for David to react or respond to what he said. He only looked up at him once he sat in the chair and had his music on the stand, and he was surprised to see David look down at the ground, his face almost completely neutral except for the corners of his lips, which were twitching up a little.

“Fine,” David said, sitting down in the other chair, moving his leg quickly when his knee bumped into Matteo’s, “Play it right and I won’t be a dick.”

Matteo rolled his eyes but figured that was the best he was going to get, so he took a deep breath before bringing his mouthpiece up to his lips.

He played through the first few measures that David pointed at, trying to be as quick as he could while still following the tempo David was tapping out and playing the notes correctly. He knew that he had nowhere to hide if he messed up. Not that he really did during their bigger rehearsals, but he also felt much more confident playing by himself. He knew he wasn’t going to mess up the timing of anything, but he was worried about a set of measures near the end that had a beat that was so complicated he couldn’t figure it out.

He messed up right away when they got to it and he stopped, expecting David to make some harsh comment that would have him snapping back, but was surprised when his only reaction was, “Go back a few measures, try it again.”

He tried again and messed it up the same way, and then tried again, before putting his baritone down with a huff. He was frustrated at himself for messing it up, especially for messing it up in front of David, knowing that there was no way he wouldn’t say something sarcastic or rude after Matteo messed up for the third time.

“Why are you counting it like that?” David asked, his voice surprisingly devoid of any mocking or cruel tone. He sounded genuinely curious, but Matteo was still wary.

“I don’t know, because that’s how it looks?” He answered quickly, rolling his eyes, shifting uncomfortably under his horn.

“If I’m promising not to be a dick, you need to promise to take this seriously,” David said, turning to look directly at Matteo for the first time since the lesson had started, “I know you don’t really care about all this, but I do, so if that means teaching you how to fucking count I’ll do it. Now, play it again, but right.”

“Who says I don’t care?” Matteo asked, keeping his baritone firmly in his lap, “And I know how to count. That measure just makes no fucking sense.”

“Yes it does, you just aren’t counting it right,” David said, his voice tight, and he took a breath before saying more calmly, “here, give me your horn, I’ll show you.”

Matteo hesitated before handing it over, and he sighed a little in relief when David took Matteo’s mouthpiece off and took another one out of his bag.

Matteo was always impressed at the sound that David was able to pull out of any instrument he touched. There were multiple times where their conductor would ask David to grab an extra trumpet or sax or flute or set of mallets for a marimba, and would shove him wherever the band needed extra help. The only reason he never sent him to sit with Matteo’s section was because they didn’t have any extra horns, and Matteo was beyond grateful for that.

David pointed at the measure, and said, “See, you’re playing this,” he played out the beat that Matteo had been playing and then stopped and said, “but that amount of notes doesn’t fit in the measure, you’re adding an extra one in the middle. It’s supposed to sound like this,” he raised the baritone to his lips again and played out the measure, tapping his foot loudly as he continued playing so Matteo could hear how that measure fit into the rest of the phrase.

He gave Matteo the horn back after switching the mouthpieces again, and Matteo hesitated before starting to play again, and when he got to the measure and played it the way David showed him, it flowed perfectly into the next one and he even saw David smile a little.

“Yeah, you got it that time,” David said, and Matteo smiled back at him before turning back to his music as David said, “now let’s fix this other part.”

***

After a couple of weeks of the private sessions, Matteo was starting to sense a pattern. They would be completely civil during their one-on-one sessions, David only critiquing when necessary and only with comments that were actually helpful, and then they would get to band and it would start all over again. Matteo would get lost, Rick would snap at his section, he would look over and see David glaring at him or shaking his head in disappointment.

He didn’t know why it was getting to him in a way that it hadn’t before. He always knew that David was a little tougher on him than others, but he had really been hoping that the private sessions would stop the glares and the looks and the scoffs whenever he messed up. If anything, the private sessions only made the actual rehearsals worse.

The second boiling point was reached their third week of the private sessions. Matteo had sat through his perfectly cordial hour with David before band, and was even looking forward to playing that day. He felt like he had finally nailed the set of measures that he and David had been working on so he was excited for Rick to hear him play it right. He was so giddy about it that he even smiled when he caught David looking at him from across the band. David had raised a confused eyebrow at him before shifting his gaze back to the front of the band, and Matteo blushed and looked down at the ground, feeling a little silly.

Again, after a little while the conductor had to step away, and again David took his place at the stand, and picked up the baton. He looked right at Matteo as he told the band that they were going to start a few measures before the one Matteo had been messing up, and he sat up a little straighter and returned the look, nodding when David finished speaking. David nodded the slightest bit back at him before raising his arms, and Matteo breathed with the rest of the band before bringing his mouthpiece up to his lips.

And it was like nothing had changed. Matteo found himself getting lost watching David’s waving his arms in all directions, wild but completely in control of himself and the band. He missed one note and David’s eyes flicked to him, and held there as Matteo panicked and stumbled his way through the measure that he had spent two weeks of private lessons fixing.

He saw David’s jaw clench and he cut the band off with a sharp wave of his hand, before turning his full body in Matteo’s direction to say, “So the last few weeks have been a total waste of my time?”

Matteo didn’t think before standing up and walking off the stage, and out of the theater. He ignored the whispers and looks that followed him out, didn’t think about when he was going to be able to go back and get his case and bag and music, and he walked to the hallway of practice rooms and entered one, slamming the door behind him.

***

He emailed Rick and got permission to skip rehearsal the next day, the conductor ending the email with We really need to figure this out before your issues with David end up hurting the rest of the band. Matteo had read the response and collapsed back into bed, glaring over at his baritone (in the case, his roommate and friends brought his stuff out for him after he left).

It was also the first night of the first concert in the music department. Matteo wasn’t performing but he was required to go, and as he got himself ready in his appropriate concert attire, he worried over the fact that David was going to be there, to perform and to watch. Matteo couldn’t think of something he’d like to do less than watch the dude who embarrassed him in front of their entire band perform and get endless praise for it.

Matteo sat quietly next to his friends throughout the concert, and when David walked onto the stage, he felt himself tense up. His best friend Jonas, a trumpet player who was more than aware of the situation in and out of rehearsal, put a hand on his leg and squeezed, trying to offer a bit of comfort. Matteo smiled tightly at him as David lifted his clarinet to his lips and took a deep breath.

No matter how much Matteo hated him, he couldn’t ignore the fact that David was the best clarinet player he had ever heard. It was like his body and his clarinet were formed together, the way he breathed sound through it and moved around it, how quickly he could run his fingers over the keys and play the most complicated string of notes without a single flaw. Matteo found himself entranced by the song David played, and he opened his eyes when the last note faded out into the otherwise silent theater, and he watched as David kept his clarinet up for a beat after the song finished before his eyes opened, and they looked directly into Matteo’s as the audience clapped around him.

He looked away as quickly as he could, ignoring the face Jonas made at his sudden movement, and tried to focus his attention completely on the girl who stepped up next with her violin. He only let his eyes flick to David once more before the concert was over, and while his view was obscured because David was sitting a few rows ahead of him, Matteo could see his fingers twitching in his lap, probably resisting the urge to make the player follow his lead. The concert was over after that last girl, and Matteo turned to his friends quickly to stop himself from staring in David’s direction again.

Coincidentally, (or not at all) the night of the first concert in the music department was also the night of the first party being held by some people in the percussion section, a couple of guys who had a big house that was perfect for hosting a bunch of drunk but mild-mannered music majors.

Matteo had barely even wanted to go, knowing that his reputation amongst the rest of the band was not a great one. He wasn’t hated, but most only knew of him because of the amount of times per rehearsal the conductor would have to stop and critique the baritones (him) or tell the baritones (him) what measure they were on, and now because of all the new drama with David. He also didn’t want to face his bandmates after walking out during the last rehearsal, but the pushing and prodding of his friends made him reluctantly agree.

“Dude, we’re gonna get you so fucked up you can’t even think about what an asshole Schreibner is,” Carlos said as they made their way to the house.

Matteo snorted as they turned onto the correct block, and they quickly spotted the house that was holding the party. There were lights and music loud enough that they could hear it down the street, and Carlos and Abdi started whooping before running over to it.

“You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” Jonas said when Matteo hesitated near the front door.

Matteo waited another second before shoving into the house, and throwing back over his shoulder, “Who cares about that asshole, I want to drink!”

And drink he did. Matteo was on his third beer after only twenty minutes, and he was considering it a win that he hadn’t seen David yet. He could feel himself getting more drunk, and didn’t know what he would even say to David if he saw him. He was glad that the little corner of the room he and his friends had grabbed seemed to be pretty hidden away.

Matteo was handed a joint after a little while and he grabbed it quickly, sticking the end in his mouth and taking a deep hit. He closed his eyes as he blew the smoke out his nose, and took another hit as he opened his eyes slowly, and saw David walk into the room. He didn’t seem to notice Matteo though, seemingly focused on getting to someone that was standing in the opposite corner.

“I didn’t know that David and Leonie are friends,” Carlos said quietly, staring over at the two, “she’s in the orchestra with Kiki. I heard she’s just like David but worse.”

“Matteo would love her, then,” Jonas said, ruffling his hair, and he flipped him off before taking another hit and passing the joint along.

“Why are talented and attractive people such assholes,” Matteo said, and when the three other boys turned to him, their eyes wide, he asked, “what?”

“Did you just say something nice about David?” Abdi asked with a grin, and Matteo rolled his eyes as the boys all oooohed.

“Me saying he’s attractive and talented isn’t nice, especially when that was the lead up to me calling him an asshole,” Matteo said, grabbing the joint when it was handed back to him, “I don’t have a single nice thing to say about David. He can play good, but he’s a piece of shit and nobody is going to hire someone with his kind of attitude. He thinks just ‘cause he can play and wave his arms around in the air that he’s going to become a famous musician and conductor, but he needs to work on being a decent fucking person first.”

His rant wasn’t the most coherent, but it felt good to get off his chest, and he leaned back against the wall and took a hit to emphasize his point. The boys were quiet, and when Matteo raised an eyebrow at Jonas, he tilted his head to the front of the group where David was standing, scowling at him.

“We need to fucking talk.” David growled out through his teeth, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, looking like he was going to vibrate out of his skin with the amount of tension in his body.

Matteo said nothing but handed the joint off, and followed after David when he turned and walked out of the room. He was done. At that point he didn’t give a fuck if he got kicked from the program, or if he was fucking kicked out of the school, because he and David needed to settle whatever their issue was then and there.

David led him down the hall and he knocked loudly on a door before shoving it open, and grabbed Matteo’s wrist to pull him inside. Matteo noticed it was a bathroom, and quickly glanced around to see if anybody was watching them. He wondered what they thought was happening. Someone in the band would probably recognize the stiff way David was holding his body, and see Matteo trailing almost lazily behind him, and know that something was about to go down. But someone else might just see two boys going into a bathroom together at a party, and come to a completely different conclusion. Matteo almost laughed at the thought. Yeah, he was gay, but he didn’t know if David was. He didn’t know if David even had the time or patience to date or hook up with anyone.

He could tell that his apparent apathy towards the situation was just pissing David off further, so he closed the door slowly, not even locking it before leaning back against it with a bored sigh. He definitely wasn’t actually as calm as he looked; he crossed his arms across his chest so the shaking in his hands would be less obvious, and it was taking a lot of effort to keep his face neutral when he saw how angry David was. He didn’t think David was going to hurt him or anything, but he was terrified about what the fight could lead to when it came to his position in the band.

“I don’t know what your fucking problem is, Matteo, but I don’t have any kind of attitude. I care about what I do and I want it to be done right. It’s not my fault that you don’t care enough to actually try, but it is really fucking with my experience here,” David said quietly, his voice a little too calm for his red face and clenched fists, “I can’t conduct a band when I need to stop every five seconds because you lose your place.”

Matteo snorted, and leaned his head back against the door. It was taking him a minute to figure out what he wanted to say and he was surprised that David was quiet, like he was giving Matteo the time to think.

“David,” Matteo said, after figuring out what was probably the dumbest part of the whole issue, “you’re good enough to be hired anywhere. Me being a shitty band member won’t stop you,” he paused for a moment, and then picked his head up and said, “And I do try. I’m good. The only reason I’m still here is because they know I’m good. I just don’t need to prove it like you do.”

He was glad that his mind was clear enough to get his exact point across, and he watched David as his words sunk in, realizing that David had probably drank too, considering the way he was leaning back on the counter, his legs a little unsteady. David stared at Matteo for a minute before standing up straighter.

“I don’t need to prove anything,” he said, “I know I’m good.”

“Then why are you such a dick?” Matteo asked, “Like, specifically to me? Yeah, you yell at everyone but you’re just mean to me. Are you homophobic or something?”

Matteo couldn’t stop the thought from drifting through his mind and out his drunk mouth. Maybe David was, and there was going to be no way to solve the issue. What the fuck would he tell Rick?

“What? No, I’m not homophobic,” David said, looking like he wanted to laugh at the idea but was too confused to, “I’m trans.”

“Trans people can be homophobic.” Matteo said, shrugging, knowing that it was a stupid point to make. He was honestly just happy for a break in the tension.

David actually laughed, before tilting his head and smirking at Matteo and saying, “Trust me, I’m not. That would be kinda weird considering I’m also not straight.”

The way he said it made something hot bloom in Matteo’s stomach, and he hated his stupid, gay brain for reacting. That statement combined with the look on David’s face, and the fact that despite their stupid rivalry David was still really fucking hot, was making Matteo lose sight of the original conversation a little.

“You’re hot.” He said, verbalizing his thoughts before he could stop himself, and then he clamped his mouth shut and bit his lip, half terrified that David was going to get angrier, and half glad that he was just getting everything off his chest thanks to the alcohol in his system.

David fell back against the counter, the smirk dropping from his face, and he blinked before stammering out, “Uh. What?”

“I think you heard me,” Matteo said, shrugging, and then he looked off to the side before looking back at David’s confused face and saying again, “you’re hot.”

“Why- what does that have to do with any of this?” David asked, and Matteo couldn’t tell if he was angrier but he sounded different, in a way that made him stand up against the door a little.

He just shrugged again, and then stared at David as he tried to work through whatever was going on in his head. Matteo watched as he stood still for a minute, his fists loosening and tightening at his sides, and he watched as David’s eyes scanned up and down his body with the same focus they would scan the band with, and he watched as David pushed himself off the sink, took a few confident steps forward, and shoved Matteo against the door and pressed their lips together.

Matteo’s eyes widened and then slid closed as he felt David’s hands clutching tight onto his hips, and he grabbed at David’s arms and just as he started moving his lips David pulled away roughly, and was back against the sink in a second.

“That was a bad idea,” David said, holding onto the edge of the sink, avoiding Matteo’s eyes by looking off to the side, “we’re both drunk, we’re fighting, we can’t do that.”

“We don’t have to fight,” Matteo said, knowing that it probably was a bad idea but stepping forward anyway, until he was close enough to see just how tight David was anchoring himself to the sink, “you can tell me to fuck off and I will. Or,” he said, taking another step closer until his foot was kicking against David’s and he could reach out and grab his wrist, “I can stay.”

David only looked back at him when he felt the tug on his arm, and he looked down at Matteo’s hand before looking him in the eyes. Matteo took a risk and slid his hand down, grabbing David’s, and was shocked when David used that grip to pull him in for another kiss, backing him up until his back was smacking into the door again. He got an arm around David’s neck before he was pulling away,  again, and Matteo sighed as David rubbed a hand over his face and said, “Fuck, no, this is such a bad idea.”

“Maybe,” Matteo said, rolling his shoulders as he asked, “can you just make up your mind? This is hurting my back.”

David looked at Matteo again, looked him up and down the same way that he had earlier that night, and something seemed to click. He tilted his head again, his eyes filled with a sudden new brightness as he stepped forward, placing his hands on the door on either side of Matteo’s hips, boxing him in.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” he said, and Matteo raised an eyebrow, amused, before he continued, “whatever happens tonight happens, and then we don’t talk about it, and it never happens again. Deal?”

Matteo thought it over for a minute, more trying to get one last little jab at David by making him wait for an answer, and once he saw David’s face go from confident to bordering on annoyed, he grinned and stuck out his hand, and said, “Deal.”

David ignored his hand but grabbed his ass and pulled him in close, his hands dragging up to Matteo’s waist as their mouths met again, and Matteo slid a hand into David’s hair and let himself melt against the door.

***

Matteo woke up the next morning with a dry mouth and a bad headache, both of which he attributed to the hangover he almost definitely had. He couldn’t even remember drinking that much, but the pain behind his eyes was more than just him being tired like usual. He got himself out of bed, just wanting to drink some water and get into a hot shower to wash away the sweat and alcohol from the party.

He got into the bathroom and turned the shower on, tugging his shirt over his head as he yawned and rubbed at his eyes. He blinked at himself in the mirror, taking in the pale face, the fucked up hair, the red eyes, the bruise on his neck, the-

Matteo jolted forward and slapped his hand over the mark on his neck, before moving it so he could gawk at the dark purple and red. Seeing it brought back a rush of memories from the night before, memories that Matteo couldn’t believe he had forgotten, and he stared at himself with wide eyes and let out a quiet, “Fuck.”

***

Matteo debated whether or not he should skip the next band rehearsal. He knew that realisitcally he couldn’t, and that skipping because of a hickey was so dumb that he shouldn’t have even been considering it. He just didn’t want to face his friends and have them ask questions, and even more than that he didn’t want to see David.

He figured that David wasn’t planning on showing up for their usual private session, so he got to band with just enough time to still be considered early, and he found a quiet corner of the theater to set his baritone up in, a row of seats off to the side. He smiled when he saw Jonas come in, but it fell quickly when he saw Jonas notice the hickey on his neck, and the pure joy and confusion that came over his face.

“Dude!” Jonas exclaimed, staring obviously at the mark, “Who gave you that?”

“Someone from the orchestra, I barely remember his name.” Matteo said as casually as he could, having thought of the lie on his way to band. Jonas nodded with a grin and held out his fist, and Matteo rolled his eyes and bumped his against it, grateful that the idea of him and David hooking up was so unbelievable that it wouldn’t even enter Jonas’ mind.

“And what happened with Schreibner?” Jonas was bouncing on his toes, excited for the news and probably expecting a story.

Matteo snorted and rolled his eyes again, before turning back to his half-assembled baritone, and shrugged and said, “We worked it out.”

Fucked it out is more like it, Matteo thought to himself, and he shook his head to rid it of that kind of thinking.

Matteo got settled in his seat, listening to the cacophony around him, and then finally let himself glance around the room to see where David was. He was surprised when he didn’t find him, unable to think of any other time where David showed up late (besides that one time with the sheet music), but the doors suddenly burst open and the conductor walked in, David hot on his heels as always, whispering as they finished up what looked to be an intense conversation.

“Sorry we’re late, we got caught up discussing the sequence of songs for the concert, but I’m glad to see you’re all ready to go.” Rick said as he grabbed his baton, and he waited for David to sit in his usual seat in the clarinet section before counting them into their first song.

Matteo spent the entire rehearsal trying his hardest to not stare at David while doing exactly that, but he was lucky that David never returned his gaze. He seemed to be actively avoiding looking in Matteo’s direction, which made sense considering the deal they had made, but he was still a little let down that David didn’t even look at him. He even found himself disappointed when David didn’t end up conducting that day, and got up and went over to his case once they were dismissed.

He was glaring at his bottle of valve oil, realizing that he was low and was going to need to go get more, when a shadow fell over him. He looked up with a smile, assuming it would be Jonas, but it dropped when he saw David standing there. He had his jacket on, his clarinet case clutched tightly in his hand, and his backpack on his back, and he was staring down at Matteo with something between apathy and irritation on his face.

“Where were you earlier?”

Matteo raised an eyebrow. He tossed the valve oil back in his case before snapping it shut, and stood up and gathered all of his things before turning to face David again and shrugging, letting his eyes drift to the side as he said, “I figured I’d give things a day to chill after...you know.”

“After what?” David asked, with a tilt of his head, and more pointed, forced confusion on his face than Matteo had ever seen. Oh, so that was how it was gonna be.

Matteo smiled back tightly. “You know what, never mind. I’ll be there next time.”

There was a moment where David’s eyes darted down to Matteo’s neck and back up just as quick. His cheeks got a little pink. Matteo smirked.

“Good.” David said simply, and then turned and left. Matteo stared after him, and smirked when he saw David turn again to look at him one more time before almost jogging out of the theater.

Matteo heard a snort from behind him, and he whipped his head around to see Jonas standing there.

“Fuckin’ dick,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of the door, “what was he yelling about this time?”

“Nothing important.” Matteo said, shrugging again, readjusting his grip on his baritone case as they started walking towards the door.

“Is it ever with him?” Jonas joked, elbowing Matteo in the arm, and they both laughed as they left the theater, Jonas waving a goodbye to the people who called out to him. Nobody said anything to Matteo, and he sighed as they made their way down the hall.

“Who knows, man,” Jonas started after a second, pausing and then turning to Matteo with a grin, jabbing him again, “maybe Schreibner is just secretly gay and super jealous of whoever gave you that hickey.”

Matteo snorted, before laughing out loud as they got outside. He shook his head and chuckled when Jonas shot him a confused look.

“I don’t think that’s it.”

*****

The next day that Matteo was meant to meet David, he woke up, and the anxious and dark feeling that settled over him immediately made him want to turn over and go back to sleep. It didn’t have anything to do with David, Matteo knew that, had a diagnosis that proved that, but he couldn’t help the dread that filled him at the thought of sitting in a practice room getting scolded over and over again by the same guy who had given him a hickey the week before.

He lit a joint as he left his place. There were tons of off-campus apartments around his school, and he had managed to get a place with Jonas. It was small, but they had all the rooms they needed, and a balcony attached to Matteo’s room for him to smoke on. It was perfect.

Smoking that day was a bad choice, though. He had gone to band high before, and knew that his fingers would be slower and he wouldn’t be able to focus, but it wouldn’t be any different with the fog filling his head. The only difference was that at least he would be out of it enough to not be bothered by the criticizing.

But by the time he got there, he had almost forgotten that before he had band, he had to see David. He knew it would be obvious he was high, and was preparing himself for whatever David would have to say about it. He was also a little late because he needed to take a minute outside of the building to breath and calm himself down. The weed had done the job of dulling everything coming in, but the anxiety twisting up inside of his gut was still pretty active. He took another shaky breath before pushing into the practice room.

“You’re late.” David said sternly, turning in the seat to glare at Matteo as he shuffled in. Matteo barely acknowledged that he had spoken besides a half shrug until he was settled in his chair, with his baritone set up.

“Bad morning,” he said in a quiet voice, before putting his music on the stand and saying, “let’s just start.”

David went easy on him at first, starting off with one of their simpler songs just to make sure Matteo understood one set of measures that the entire band had been messing up. It didn’t require much complex counting or a lot of movement, so Matteo was playing fine. It was a little further into the session when David switched to a different song, one that Matteo could play most days, but not with his fuzzy brain and fingers that started to shake when David pointed at the measure he wanted Matteo to start with,

He barely got through the first measure before David was cutting him off and telling him to start over, and then stopping him again to count out the beats, and then finally stopping him again when Matteo was playing at a tempo so wrong that he didn’t even know what he was doing.

“Okay, stop, stop,” David said, and he flopped back in his chair with a huff, “what the fuck is going on today?”

“Nothing,” Matteo muttered, leaning back in his chair as well, but crossing his arms over his chest, “I told you, bad morning.”

David turned to stare at him, actually looking at him for the first time he had come in, and Matteo saw understanding dawn on his face before a glare took its place.

“Oh, I get it,” David said, shifting back in his chair, “you’re really trying to get kicked out, aren’t you?”

“No, what the fuck?” Matteo said, shaking his head at the idea.

“So you thought coming in stoned was a good way to keep your spot?”

Matteo froze, before asking quietly, “Are you going to narc?”

David rolled his eyes and snorted, and opened his mouth, before closing it again and leaning back more in his chair. He squinted at Matteo for a second, and then asked, “Why did you do it?”

“What?” Matteo asked, running a hand through his hair, his eyes darting to the side because he hadn’t even thought about what could happen if David told anyone that he had showed up high.

“Get high, before coming here? If you aren’t trying to get kicked out? Did you think it was a good idea?” David seemed almost amused by the conversation.

“None of your fucking business.”

“I kind of think it is, though, if you’re going to be showing up here, at a time that I only agreed to meet at because you need help-”

“Shut the fuck up, you have to be here just as much as I do, in case you forgot,” Matteo snapped, feeling himself losing a bit of the control that he was usually very careful to hold onto, “and if you really need to know, my brain is pretty fucked up and coming here and getting yelled at by you doesn’t help. Shockingly, it makes it worse. So if you’re going to run off and tell the department that I’m high, make sure they know it’s because you’re so unbearable to work with that it’s the only way I can get through it.”

David stared at him, and swallowed, his face unreadable. Matteo took a deep breath and looked down at the ground, his pulse pounding in his ears. He pressed his fingers down on the valves of his baritone as he tried to get his breathing back under control after losing his temper, and with the new panic that was filling him. He was done for. There was no way David would let him get away with all of that, and Matteo knew that the department would not be happy to hear that he showed up to a rehearsal high before screaming at everyone’s favorite.

“Okay,” David said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Matteo’s head whipped to him. “What?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m pissed that you’re high right now,” David said, but his voice was still soft, and he was looking at Matteo with the closest thing to sympathy on his face that Matteo had seen from him, “but brains can suck. And I get that I can be...blunt.”

Matteo snorted. “Blunt, sure.”

“So here’s what we’re gonna do,” David said, and he took his phone out of his pocket and started typing, “have you ever listened to the songs that we’re playing?”

“Well, he played new pieces for us in the beginning of the semester. And I hear them when we play.” Matteo said with a shrug. He had never really been the type to listen to band music. He loved it, and loved playing it, but it already took up so much of his time. When he was listening to music on his own he usually chose stuff that he couldn’t tell you the time signature of.

“Yeah, but sitting in a section of a band and listening to the people around you is really different from hearing it like the audience does,” David said, barely looking up, “we still have some time before rehearsal, so let’s just listen to the songs until it’s time to go. I’ll point out some parts that you’re struggling with so you can hear how you fit into everything else.”

“Oh. Okay. That sounds good.” Matteo said, staring at David in shock as he kept tapping on his phone. After a few seconds, Matteo could hear the run that starts the first song in their program. David raised the volume and set his phone on the stand, and then leaned back in his chair, the corners of his lips turning up as the clarinet came in, playing the solo that David played every class.

“That person played it better,” Matteo said under his breath, a little uncomfortable with how suddenly accommodating David was being. He was sure light teasing was still safe. He smirked at the eyebrow David raised.

They listened to the next couple of songs, David pausing every now and then to point things out or tell Matteo to listen to the part coming up next. Matteo could see his hands twitching on his lap, tapping along to the beat, and sometimes, seemingly without even noticing, his hand would come up and with just a finger he would conduct to the room. Matteo watched until it seemed like David wasn’t paying attention to him anymore, and he leaned back in his own chair, and closed his eyes.

He was still listening, and he continued tapping his foot to the beat of every song that played. As the last note of the last piece played out in the room, Matteo let out the breath he had taken in and held during the final crescendo. He didn’t realize until then that he hadn’t even put away his baritone, the horn just resting in his lap, his hands moving across the brass and pressing down on the valves of their own accord.

“We should probably head out,” Matteo heard, and he opened his eyes slowly, not expecting to meet David’s as quickly as he did. David was staring at him with another unreadable expression, biting his lips as his eyes darted around Matteo’s face, down to his lips, before he bit his own and jumped up from his chair with a, “yeah, we need to be there in ten. Let’s pack up.”

*****

[insert blah blah whatever but then the conductor is like haha later this week im gonna be gone and david is gonna conduct all of you the whole time and matteo is like “lol k” but it actually ends up being fine?? And matteo plays better and david doesnt have to say anything to him and near the end he actually SMILES at him and matteo is like okay oaky….this is kinda nice i like not fighting with this dude also hes STILL SO FUCKING CUTE]

[flash forward to a couple weeks later they're still kinda getting along like they are still constantly teasing and bantering and arguing but its like,, nice and funny and ,maybe flirty??????]

“Why can’t we talk about it?” Matteo asked, finally, snapping his case shut and turning to stare at David’s suddenly stiff back. He heard David’s case zip up after a second, before he turned around, a tight smile on his face.

“Talk about what?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that made it obvious he wasn’t pleased.

“Stop acting like it’s fucking crazy that two people who don’t like each other got drunk at a party and hooked up,” Matteo said, rolling his eyes at David’s carefully controlled expression, “just because you’re so busy and important doesn’t mean you have to be boring.”

“I’m not boring,” David hissed, but he flopped back down in his seat and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling before saying, “I don’t want other people in the band finding out. I have a reputation with them, and I know that...I know this would make things weird.”

“If anything they’ll be jealous of me,” Matteo said with a laugh, “as if you don’t know how many of them eye fuck you while you’re conducting.”

“I’m not...oblivious,” David huffed, and Matteo smirked when he saw his cheeks get red as he looked down at the ground, “and that’s not it.”

Matteo tilted his head, trying to figure out what David meant as he looked up from the ground but off to the side, chewing on his lip. Somewhere in the back of his head a thought started brewing, and once he thought it it was impossible not to clear his throat, and take a breath before asking, “Is it because you think I’m bad? Like, a bad player? Do you not want them knowing you hooked up with me?”

“What? Matteo, no,” David looked at him sincerely for the first time since Matteo had started the conversation, and he reached a hand out, and Matteo jumped when it wrapped gently around his wrist, “I don’t think you’re a bad player, and that...that isn’t the problem. You aren’t the problem with this.”

“Then what is?” Matteo asked, exasperated even though he was the one to ask.

“It’s them,” David said, gesturing vaguely out but Matteo could guess he meant their bandmates, “I love them, but do you know how hard it would be to lead a group of people, including lots of people who have hit on me, if they knew I hooked up with the one member of the band that I-”

“That you what?” Matteo asked too quick, excited to hear the answer.

“That they have seen me get angry in the past- perhaps angrier than necessary.” David said calculating and slow, like admitting it hurt him somewhere deep. Matteo kind of hoped it did. After smiling to himself at that he refocused on the point of the conversation.

“Do you really think I’m planning on telling any of them?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief, “The only other people I talk to besides you are Carlos, Abdi, and Jonas, and I’m not telling them about any of it because I don’t want them giving me shit for any of it.”

“Why do you even want to talk about this?” David asked, looking up and fixing Matteo with a hard stare, “It happened a while ago, and it’s not like we had some romantic fucking moment of reconiliation. We got drunk, we argued, we hooked up, and now we can move on.”

“Well,” Matteo said, licking his lips and shrugging before looking up at David again, knowing that he didn’t really have a reason besides, “I had fun.”

David opened his mouth, and then closed it again, and then opened it again and just went, “Okay?”

“Didn’t you?” Matteo asked, trying for confidence, but coming off as a little desperate with the way he twisted in his seat to make sure he would catch David’s answer.

“I mean…” David started, his cheeks getting darker as his eyes darted around the room, then down to Matteo’s lips and up to his eyes again as he said, “yeah. I did.”

“Yeah, so,” Matteo said, shrugging again, “what’s the big deal if we acknowledge it? It happened, and now we-” he cut himself off, before taking a deep breath and continuing, “and now we see what happens next.”

David’s eyes popped open. Matteo shrugged again before standing and picking his case up, and his bag, and taking a couple of steps to the door. He turned when he heard silence behind him, and saw David frozen in his seat, still staring at him. He stared back for a moment before gesturing out the door and asking, “Are you coming?”

David blinked and nodded, before getting up and gathering his things as well, and he followed Matteo out the door, and they made the short trek to rehearsal.

Matteo felt different sitting down next to his bandmates that day. He was still full of adrenaline, but felt ready to play, quietly humming one of their songs to himself as his fingers pressed down on the associated valves. He couldn’t stop his gaze from flicking to David every few minutes, and he caught David looking back just as Rick walked onto the stage. David coughed and looked away, and Matteo smiled to himself before leaning back in his seat.

He could feel David’s eyes on him throughout the rehearsal, and he was surprised, but it encouraged him to keep sneaking peeks as well. His eyes would wander up from the page even when he was playing just to catch a glimpse of David in his seat, sitting up straight, his strong arms and shoulders holding the clarinet up, his lips wrapped around the mouthpiece-

Matteo was glad he had a lot of rests.

“David! You were supposed to come in there!” Rick yelled suddenly, smacking the score in front of him with his baton, “You’ve never missed that cue before, what’s got you so distracted today?”

The band was silent and they watched David blush as he said, “Sorry, Rick, I’ll focus better. Won’t happen again.”

The conductor just shook his head before telling them to start the piece over, which was followed by angry grumbles and the sound of papers flipping. David looked down at the ground, his cheeks an angry red, and Matteo bit back the smile that threatened to grow on his face.

[david cancels their next private lesson and matteo is like what why and then he gets to band that day and david is conducting again and he basically ignore matteo the entire time and matteo is a lil mad and then after matteo goes up to him and is like “hey wtf why did you cancel on me and then not even correct me when i messed up” and david is like “fuck cause youre super fucknig distracting now and i cant spend an hour alone with you and then get up in front of a group of people and conduct like an idiot cause im too busy thinking about YOU” but hes likes embarassed and actually mad about it and matteo is like oh my god are we going back to the anger i thought we were passed that and davids like well i guess not and matteos like lmao do we need to hook up again cause that seemed like it worked pretty well last time and david is like,, so fucking pissed but is more pissed that hes kind of into that idea so he locks the practice room door and basically they hook up in the practice room because wow what a fantasy that is]

[things are like….weird but chill for a while after that. It seemed like being able to hook up with matteo again made david less distracted by him in a destructive way and even put a bit of a pep in his step?? And matteo notices that hes being a bit nicer to everyone, not just him, and hes actually smiling and complimenting matteo during their private sessions, and even though nothing is explicitly referenced they both know something's going on. Neither of them would call the other a friend though]

[this is after they hook up the third time, which is the first time that isnt completely out of anger but they arent really friends They just happened to run into each other after a concert and were both being a bit flirty and matteo was very boldly like “hey uh come back to my place” because he thinks and david actually does]

“Tell me something about you,” Matteo said, turning his head and propping it up on his arms so he could see David. The light was low in the room, and the plant near his lamp was casting strange shadows on the walls, and on David himself, leaned back against the wall like he was.

“Uh,” David started, his eyes dancing around the room as he tried to think of something, “I started playing the clarinet when I was-”

Matteo reached out and pinched his leg. David twitched, and raised an eyebrow at him. Matteo hoped that David was okay with the fact that he just kept touching him. It was hard to keep his hands away, and he didn’t know David’s comfort level with non-sexual physical contact. So far he seemed more amused than anything else.

“Tell me something not related to music.” Matteo said, and David snorted at the request.

“Why?” He asked, reaching down to push Matteo’s hair out of his eyes. He bit his lip, wishing that David kept his hand on him longer.

“I just think, you know,” Matteo said, hoping he wasn’t pushing it by sliding his hand onto David’s thigh, the same one he had pinched, “might not be the time to to get into that topic. Just in case.”

I don’t want to start arguing when we just had really great sex and we’re like five minutes away from cuddling if I play my cards right, is what Matteo was thinking, but he figured he got the point across.

David hummed, and nodded, the amused smile still on his face, and tilted his head against the wall and said, “Okay, let me think.”

Matteo stared at him, from where the blanket was draped over his lap, up his bare chest, up the angle of his neck, and still found himself blown away at how beautiful he was. He sighed, glad that David wasn’t watching him swoon.

“Okay I got something,” David said suddenly, turning to Matteo, his eyes bright, “so, growing up we had a cat. My sister got to name it because she was older, and she named the cat Martha Jones, after a Doctor Who character. That cat fucking hated me.”

Matteo laughed, but David didn’t look like he was done, so he prompted him with, “And?”

“Years later, I moved in with my sister, and she wants us to get another cat. So, we go to a shelter, and there’s a cage in the back with a sign on it that says ‘Martha Jones’. Completely different cat, but of course my sister says we have to see her.”

Matteo nodded, enthralled.

“So she goes to ask a worker, and this dude says that that cat was a biter, would hiss, and scratched anyone that went near her unless they had food. Laura insisted, because she’s stubborn, so they brought us into a room and the dude basically tossed the cat in with us and closed the door.”

“That doesn’t sound safe.” Matteo said, shifting closer until he was able to rest his head in David’s lap. He couldn't hold back the need any longer, and he was pleased when David started playing with his hair.

“It wasn’t, she immediately scratched me so bad I started bleeding,” David said with a chuckle, “but she chilled out after a bit, my sister was very persistent. After like 20 minutes she was purring in my lap.” David finished with a proud smile down at Matteo.

If Matteo hadn’t already been crushing that would’ve sealed the deal. It did make something soft settle in his chest, and made his hands a little tingly, and he didn’t think twice before asking, “Can I see a picture?”

David looked thrilled at the question, and he leaned over to grab his phone. Matteo watched, biting back a grin as David scrolled through his pictures before settling on one and handing his phone over, obviously excited for Matteo to see.

The first thing Matteo could make out was a metal music stand, the same basic kind he had in his room for practicing, but it was tilted so the tray was lying flat. He grinned at the cat bed that was resting on top of it, and actually awwwed out loud at the pretty calico, splayed out on her back in a sunbeam. The stand was in front of a large window, and Matteo could see plants around it, and he wondered if it was David’s room.

“Yeah,” David said, looking at the picture again himself before putting his phone down. Matteo felt a tug on his hair, and he looked up to see David staring down at him, and he said, “now you.”

“Me? I don’t have any cats to show off,” Matteo said, wrapping his arms around David’s legs so he could squeeze himself closer.

“No, now you have to tell me something about yourself,” David said, rolling his eyes, but his face was softer than Matteo had ever seen it.

“Oh, shit,” Matteo said, not thinking that David was going to turn the conversation on him, and he hummed for a second before saying the first thing he could think of, “well, I like to sing. When I was younger I used to have a vocal coach and everything, now I mostly just sing whenever my roommate isn’t home.”

It wasn’t something he brought up, or really thought about too often, because ultimately the decision for him to stop the training was out of his hands, and he regretted not being able to go farther with it the same way he could with the baritone.

“Why’d you stop?” David asked, his voice soft, as if he could sense the sadness underlying the statement.

“Well,” Matteo said, shifting back a little bit so he could roll onto his back and say it up to the ceiling, “my mom was the one who got me the lessons, I had already been taking them for the baritone for a year or so. My dad got pissed, because I was already singing in the church choir at that point, and he didn’t want singing to distract from my other music shit. When I got older, uh,” he paused to take a breath, “there was a while where my mom wasn’t living with us, so all the singing lessons stopped. I stopped singing at church, too, and, well. I was better at the baritone anyway.”

He hadn’t noticed that while he had been talking, David had slid down more on the bed until he was resting on his side, and he was staring with a concerned look when Matteo turned to him again,

“They have vocal coaches through the school,” David said, an arm inching across the mattress towards Matteo, “you can sign up for one, if you want. I can get you the email of the person who sets them up, I-”

Matteo laughed at David’s eagerness to help, cutting him off, and rolled back over onto his side, surprised at how close he found himself to David. He felt a hand gently sliding onto his hip, and he bit his lip, his eyes meeting David’s, and he leaned in to kiss him.

David didn’t seem to have expected it. He made a sound, and Matteo worried for a moment that he was going to pull away but instead he was pulled in closer, David’s hand sliding onto the small of his back. He pulled away, and David rolled onto his back, his cheeks pink.

“Thanks, but I don’t need any of that,” Matteo said, and he hesitantly let his head drop onto David’s shoulder, and then let his arm drape across his stomach when David tangled their legs together, “it’s just something I do for fun now.”

“For fun,” David repeated, and then took a breath and asked, “since the topic of music is back on the table, do you want to hear a secret?”

Matteo looked up, amused, and then propped his chin on David’s chest so he could see him better, and he said, “Yes, please.”

“So, I can play almost every wind instrument, right? And brass too, and I can figure out percussion pretty quickly. I can pretty much play anything you’ll find in the average wind ensemble, and then some.”

Matteo rolled his eyes, “That’s not a secret.”

“Yeah, but,” David took another breath, and it seemed like it actually pained him to say, “I can’t play anything with fucking strings.”

“Really?” Matteo asked, leaning up a bit more so he could see the hurt on David’s face, and he grinned, and questioned, “not even guitar? Or ukulele? Even I can play those a bit.”

“Nope,” David sulked, “nothing. One time my friend gave me her violin to try and she said I should be banned from ever touching anything with strings again.”

Matteo covered his mouth with his hands to stop the giggles that were threatening to pour out of him. It wasn’t like there was any actual expectation that David was able to play every single instrument that existed, but the shame he seemed to be feeling about his own inability was hilarious.

“Now you have to tell me something else too,” David said, poking Matteo in the cheek, obviously trying to change the subject,

“You offered that information up freely, I don’t have to tell you shit.” Matteo snarked back. He was still reeling from how strange this new dynamic was, and he wanted to push a bit, see what was allowed.

David scrunched his face up before suddenly grabbing Matteo’s wrist and flipping him onto his back, David hovering over him, looking much too pleased with himself. Once he could tell Matteo wasn’t going to try to move he slid his hand off his wrist and down his chest, onto his hip, and blinked his dark eyes slow and said, “Tell me something.”

“I can speak Italian,” Matteo blurted out immediately, unable to resist a hot, mostly naked boy pinning him to his bed.

“Oh yeah?” David asked with a grin, “Fluently?”

“Yeah,” Matteo said, his eyes wide as he stared up at David, “my dad’s from Italy, we spoke it when I was growing up.”

David hummed, still looking down at Matteo with the same cocky smile on his face, and said, “Say something.”

“No,” Matteo refused, and with a sudden burst of confidence he slid his hand onto the back of David’s head and said, “kiss me.”

David’s eyes widened but he smiled, and did as told. The conversation ended there.

*****

A few days later, a weekend, Matteo walked out onto his balcony. It was midday, and he had already eaten and gotten the work done for his academic classes, so he had an unlit joint dangling between his lips. He stretched, and squinted when the sun shone down on him bright enough to hurt his eyes. He dashed back into his room, intent on finding the sunglasses he knew were somewhere, and he saw something balanced against the wall in the corner that made him pause.

It was a ukulele, his ukulele, one that a random family member had gotten him when he was first accepted to the school. It was a bright blue, and Matteo knew that with most instruments a bright color didn’t ensure the best quality, but he didn’t mind because he barely played the thing. It was good enough for the random time every few months where Matteo would decide to teach himself a new song.

He thought back on his conversation with David. He felt the corners of his lips twitch up, remembering David’s pained face when he revealed his secret, and with a small laugh he grabbed the neck of the ukulele and tucked it under his arm. He found his sunglasses on the floor next to his desk, and slid them onto his face before walking back out the door.

He leaned against the railing of the balcony as he lit the joint, smiling around it, and puffing the smoke out his nose. His room faced out to an empty street, across from a bunch of buildings that he was sure nobody had gone inside for years. He liked how private it felt, for the years he had lived there he had only seen a handful of people out there.

Which made it the perfect place for him to pluck out a few random chords on the ukulele without the judgement he usually faced when playing music. He wasn’t good by any means, but he knew enough chords to play enough songs to keep himself occupied. There were even a few times when he and Jonas had played together out there, usually after a few beers or joints when Matteo was feeling less self conscious about giggling as he badly played along with Jonas actually playing his guitar.

He puffed on the joint, his eyes closing under the sunglasses as he started strumming. His fingers had settled naturally on the frets, playing the chords to the last song he had taught himself, one Jonas had played in his car that got stuck in Matteo’s head. He hummed along, but stopped when the joint almost fell out of his mouth. He took a step back, rolled his shoulders, and started playing again.

The joint did fall out of his mouth, tumbling to the ground at Matteo’s feet, thankfully not setting anything on fire, when he heard from the street below him, “Matteo?”

Oh god, he recognized the voice immediately. He bent down to grab the joint and stubbed it out on the ashtray conveniently right next to him, and took a deep breath before peeking over the railing. And he was right about the voice, as David was standing there, a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun, squinting up at the balcony.

“Uh, yeah,” Matteo called back, lifting a hand to wave awkwardly before realizing that he was still clutching the ukulele, so he set it down, his fingers tight around the neck, “that’s me.”

“Nice shades.” David said, smirking up as he moved his hand from his eyes. The sun was going behind some clouds so the glare was gone, and Matteo lifted the sunglasses from his eyes with a blush.

“What are you doing over here?” Matteo asked, leaning over the edge so he could get a closer look. David had a bike next to him, and a backpack tight on his back, obviously either coming or going from somewhere.

“Oh, well, actually,” David said, digging the toe of his shoe into the ground like he was embarrassed by the question, “I was just taking a shortcut.”

Matteo snorted, and looked down at his arms folded across the railing. He didn’t really know what to say. He wasn’t expecting to see David obviously, and it didn’t seem like David’s answer matched his reaction to the question. He wanted to know what that was about. After an almost awkward silence, just as David’s hand tightened around the handle of his bike, Matteo quickly asked, “Do you want to come up?”

Something about David made Matteo do that a lot, blurt out things that drifted through his head that he wouldn’t usually say without a second more to think about it. He blushed after he asked, looking down at his arms again, not wanting to watch David uncomfortably decline. Sometimes it was hard to remember that they weren’t really supposed to like each other.

“Okay.” David said, confidently, and Matteo’s eyes snapped back down. David was looking up at him with his head tilted, a smile on his face like Matteo’s question was a challenge.

“Oh,” Matteo responded, needing to take a minute to realize that David was actually agreeing, “um, go around the front and I’ll buzz you in?”

David nodded, and hopped on his bike and disappeared around the corner of the building. Matteo let out a breath and rushed into his room, looking around with wide eyes to see what he needed to quickly kick under his bed and shove in his closet. He managed to tidy his room up enough to not be embarrassed by the time the buzzer went off, and Matteo ran to it, not even knowing if Jonas was home but desperately hoping he wasn’t.

He pulled the door open, biting his lip when David came into view, smiling slightly in that cocky way he did. He felt like he would swallow his tongue if he spoke out loud so he waved David into the flat, blushing at the chuckle David let out as he did so, and David bowed his head as he walked in, stepping past Matteo and stopping in the entrance to the main part of the flat.

“We should go chill on your balcony,” David said, looking around like he had never been there before. To be fair, the only time David had been there they were stumbling through the dark to Matteo’s room trying to keep their lips connected, so he didn’t blame him for taking the time to look around in the daylight.

Matteo nodded, and then realizing he hadn’t actually said anything since David came up, cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, sure.”

He led an amused David through his room, pointedly avoiding looking at his bed, his face flushing although he kept his eyes trained forward. David didn’t say anything, or even show in any way that he remembered the fact that just days ago they had been wrapped up in each other in that very same bed, kissing and touching and a lot else. Matteo didn’t know how he was so nonchalant about it when the sight of the bed instantly brought the taste of David’s lips to Matteo’s head, the feeling of his hands on him, Matteo’s hands in his hair. He shook his head and pulled the door to the balcony open harder than he meant to.

He was glad that they had chairs set out on the balcony, ones they had found outside some other building when they first moved in. They didn’t match but they were surprisingly comfortable and most importantly, not broken. Matteo only sat after David had picked a chair, and looked up at him, an amused smile still on his face.

“I should tell you that I lied, earlier.” David said suddenly, after Matteo sat. He looked up, confused, at David’s smile.

“Lied about what?”

“I wasn’t really taking a shortcut.”

Matteo raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

David nodded, and bent down, digging around in the backpack at his feet. Matteo settled back in his seat to watch until David sprang back up with a book in his hand.

“Don’t tell anyone,” David started, flipping to a page near the end, “but I might sometimes sneak into buildings in a way that isn’t totally...legal.”

Matteo smiled at that, tilting his head, and asked, “For any particular reason, or do you just like the thrill?”

David smiled back, not cocky, and said, “It is pretty thrilling, especially when you get chased out by security guards. But I really do it for this.”

His cheeks got a little rosy when he handed the book over to Matteo, and Matteo’s jaw dropped when he looked down at the page. He was expecting words, but instead there was a sketch done in black pencil, and it took Matteo a minute to piece together what it was.

[idk dude figure out what he drew i guess lmao i dont care enough to try to write this part rn]

“These are… really good,” Matteo said, flipping through the pages. He didn’t really know if David wanted him to but he didn’t try to stop him, so Matteo let his eyes wander over the pages.

“Yeah, well,” David said, sounding a little sheepish, “it’s a hobby, I guess.”

Matteo was quiet as he turned page after page, finding sketches of more abandoned buildings, random people, different plants. A cat popped up a few times, which made Matteo smile, along with the doodles of instruments and staff lines half filled with notes. He didn’t realize how long he had been absorbed in the book until he noticed he was on the second to last page. He stared at the drawing that seemed somewhat familiar, a barely-started portrait, a head with short swooping hair, a button nose, a small smile-

“Okay, um,” David said quickly, his hand darting out to grab at the book, “yeah, a lot of those last ones aren’t finished. Not really that interesting.”

“I thought they were,” Matteo muttered, a little annoyed at being interrupted. He had been enjoying himself.

“I, uh,” David started as he shoved the book back into his bag, “don’t usually show that to people.”

Matteo tilted his head. He had never seen David look less sure of himself. He leaned back in the chair, biting his lip, his eyes avoiding Matteo’s. He seemed almost… shy? Timid? Words that Matteo would never associate with David.

“Well, you should,” Matteo said after a moment of silence, “it sucks that you’re amazing at that too.”

That got a bit of a chuckle, and Matteo grinned at David until their eyes met. There was a beat, and then David looked away again.

“I don’t know,” David said, his cheeks getting pink again, “that’s something I really only do when I need to escape. I just… go somewhere, and draw whatever I can find. I don’t really show people because I’m not doing it for anyone else. Like… you know.”

Matteo had a million questions about what he meant by that, but David had crossed his arms over his chest and looked off to the side after saying it, his jaw set. He let out a long exhale through his nose, and Matteo got the hint that he didn’t want to further dissect that statement.

Matteo leaned back in his chair, quiet, trying to figure out how to turn the conversation back around. He could tell David maybe hadn’t meant to say as much as he did, maybe was a little embarrassed at revealing something so personal. Showing off a picture of his cat a week or so prior was nothing compared to talking about something that he was actively keeping to himself. His escape, from what Matteo knew was a very stressful and hectic life.

He thought for a moment, his eyes darting around the balcony to find something to change the topic, to stop David from looking so uncomfortable. His eyes landed on his ukulele. He paused there, the thought alone making his heart race and something nervous twist up in his stomach, but before he could stop himself he reached out and grabbed it, letting it settle in his arms the way it always did. David didn’t look over until Matteo accidentally twanged one of the strings.

“Um,” he said, when David’s eyes widened and a grin started growing over his face, “I’ll trade you.”

The grin stopped, David tilted his head in confusion and asked, “You’ll trade me what?”

“You told me about what you do that’s just for you, that you don’t usually share with other people,” Matteo strummed, quickly adjusting a couple of the tuning pegs until the sound was just right, “only fair that I do the same.”

“I didn’t think that playing the ukulele was that important to you.”  David said, uncrossing his arms, relaxing back into his chair a bit. The tension was gone from his face, and his lips were curved up at the sides.

“It’s not,” Matteo said with a smirk that looked more confident than he felt, and he took a deep breath before putting his fingers on the frets.

He started strumming the song he had been playing when David showed up, looking down at his hands because he knew he would need to focus on the chords and not on David looking at him. He took another deep breath, tried not to think about it, and started singing.

“There once was a bittersweet man and they called him Lemon Boy….”

Matteo hadn’t considered the lyrics before singing them, just picking a song that was fresh in his head so he wouldn’t embarrass himself by messing up, not that David would have been shocked by that. It was a simple song, pretty, one that he didn’t have to think too hard about. But as he sang it, as the lyrics came out of his mouth less timid with every word, he felt butterflies in his stomach. He got to the chorus, and closed his eyes.

“Lemon Boy and me started to get along, together,” he sang, ignoring the heat he could feel spreading across his cheeks, “I helped him plant his seeds and we'd mow the lawn in bad weather.”

Matteo stumbled on a chord, managed to fix it in a second but he knew David heard it. He continued, though. David had reminded him of that often, not to stop when he made a mistake.

“It’s actually pretty easy being nice to a bitter boy like him...”

He sang the next verse, getting a little sloppy with the chords as he failed to not think about the words he was singing. He got through it, got halfway through the next chorus, and was suddenly cut off when loud classical music started playing from David’s bag. His hands stilled, and he opened his eyes.

It was as if David hadn’t even noticed he stopped, or the sound coming from somewhere near his feet. His eyes were wide, shiny and dark, staring into Matteo’s, leaning forward in his chair like he didn’t want to miss a single word, a single strum of Matteo’s fingers over the strings. His head was tilted, lips parted just enough that a long shaky breath could escape, his hands gripping tight to the arms of the chair. He looked awed by Matteo’s mediocre performance.

David’s gaze snapped down to his bag when the classical music started again, and he whispered an, “Oh, shit,” as he dug through it. He pulled his phone out and Matteo expected him to put it to his ear, assuming the music was a ringtone, but instead he could see it was an alarm that David turned off with a slide of his finger across the screen.

“I was supposed to be home a while ago, I need to, uh,” David cut himself off as he stood, shoving his phone into his pocket and zipping his bag closed before swinging it onto his back, “I have to do my shot today.”

“Oh,” Matteo responded, not understanding what David meant. He wasn’t able to say anything else, like singing had taken the rest of his voice for the day.

“You know, testosterone?” David stuttered out, nervous, as if Matteo didn’t already know he was trans.

“Oh,” Matteo said again, almost smacking himself in the face when he blurted out, “have fun?”

That made David pause, his franticness to leave slowing as a smile grew over his face. He bit his lip, and then to Matteo’s shock, let out a laugh.

“I’ll try my best,” he said, winking. That action alone was enough to have Matteo collapsing back into his chair. David turned towards the door, put one foot back into the apartment, and then stopped before saying, “oh, and Matteo?”

“Yes?” Matteo said, leaning forward again, greedy to hear whatever David was about to say.

“One day I’ll show people my art. Have an exhibit at a museum, maybe.” he said, turning his head so he could look back at Matteo with a soft smile on his face, “but only if I can hire you to sing there.”

Matteo’s jaw dropped, his face turning bright red as David walked through the door. He flopped back in his chair, waited until he could hear the clicks of his door opening and then closing, and let out the breath he had been holding for who knows how long.

[procrastinatorimagines]

Take Your Daughter To Work Day

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Warning/s: none

Word Count: 1,227

Request:  Can I have a Jay Halstead imagine where the reader and Jay have a daughter together, and one day, neither Jay and Yn could get a sitter so they have to bring her to work?

“Can she take her?” You asked your husband, Jay, as you searched for your car keys. He held a finger up, listening intently to the babysitter on the other end of the line. You weren’t sure why she hadn’t turned up, but you were already going to be late to work as it was and you needed someone to watch your daughter. 

Nadia was sat at the breakfast bar, happily colouring in a picture she was drawing with her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth in concentration. You ruffled her hair as you passed behind her, grinning at the multicoloured dragon she was working on, finding your keys on the kitchen counter. 

Jay wandered in, slipping his phone back into his pocket and shaking his head at you. “Everything okay?” You asked, Jay gesturing for you to come closer, casting a glance at Nadia as he did.

“Her father was admitted to the hospital a few hours ago, she’s sorry she didn’t call, her minds all over the place but she’s his only family in Chicago,” he told you in a low voice so Nadia didn’t hear, not that she was paying attention anyway.

“Fair enough,” you couldn’t exactly argue with that, “Cindy?” 

“In bed ill, I texted her,” he replied, both of you unsure what to do with the 7 year old behind you. Voight was not going to be happy if you were both late, it would put him down two detectives, but you couldn’t exactly leave her on her own.

“We’re going to have to take Nadia with us,” you sighed, Nadia perking up at the mention of her name, “get your shoes on monkey, you’re coming to work with us today.” She grinned, scampering down from her seat and racing to the shoe rack by the door. 

You and Jay headed back into the main room to grab the last of your things. “Trudy won’t mind us leaving Nadia with her if we pick up a call,” Jay said, but he only sounded half convinced. Oh well, you thought, what else could you do?

“Ready!” You heard a little voice shout from by the front door, laughing as you found her stood straight, beaming from ear to ear at the prospect of going to work with you. Having both parents as detectives meant she was constantly surrounded by cops, and incessently curious about what you did everyday. She knew you caught bad guys and helped good guys, that made you freaking superheroes in her eyes. 

“Let’s go,” Jay opened the door and Nadia rushed out, leaving you to follow after her as quickly as you could, hoping Voight and Trudy wouldn’t be too mad.

-

Nadia practically darted up the stairs as you reached the 21st, Trudy looking up from the paperwork she was filling in on her desk as you opened the precinct doors. She looked from Nadia to you and Jay, then back to Nadia before putting her pen down and shaking her head. “Absolutely not,” she told you, clearly not in the mood for morning pleasantries as she took off her glasses and folded her arms, “what happened to your sitter?” She asked, keeping an eye on Nadia as she looked around with mesmerised eyes. 

“Her father’s in hospital,” Jay answered, putting a hand on Nadia’s shoulder and lightly pulling her out of the way of the civilians and officers already milling about at this early hour.

“So?” Trudy replied callously, “how’s that my problem?” She was being extra Trudy-like this morning, she probably hadn’t had her coffee yet, so you decided to disregard the comment, focusing on getting her to agree to take Nadia instead.

“Trudy please,” you pleaded sweetly, not above begging as you became more and more aware of the time. So you hoisted your daughter up under her arms and pointed her in Trudy’s direction, doing your best sad face over her shoulder as she waved at Trudy.

“I’m going to be the police today,” Nadia told her excitedly. Trudy rolled her eyes, but you knew what had won her over as you put your child back down, Jay chuckling behind you.

Voight appeared at the top of the stairs then, glaring at you both slightly as he descended. “You’re late,” he commented.

“Sorry, couldn’t get anyone to watch her,” Jay pointed to the child now making her way around the otherside of Trudy’s desk. Voight’s expression softened slightly, you knew he had a soft spot for children.

“We got a body in the water,” he informed you both, filling you in briefly on what the officer first on scene had relayed. 

“Ooh, can I come?” Nadia blurted out, poking her head back around the side of the desk.

“No,” you and Jay both said in unison.

Nadia pouted, “but I want to see what you do at work,” she complained, deflated at the fact that she couldn’t join you. As much as you hated to see her like that, there was no way she was seeing a body.

“Well... how about you see the other side of our work,” you suggested, having a idea of how to keep her occupied and entertained.

“What’s that?” She perked up, curious again. 

“Paperwork,” you answered, looking to Trudy for help selling her on the idea as the rest of the unit started filling in from upstairs; you really had to go.

“Yeah yeah I’ll find her some ‘forms’ to fill in,” Trudy assured you, looking around her desk, presumably for some old or scrap forms for her to pass the time writing.

“But I want to come with you,” she whined, clearly having been thinking she’d spend the whole day with her parents at work, but this wasn’t really a job for kids, a fact that she was still a little too young to have accepted. 

“Halstead’s we’ve got to go,” Hailey called to you both, only just spotting Nadia from her place around the desk, giving her a wink as she did, “hey kiddo.” Nadia grinned back at her and they gave each other an exploding air fist bump. Adam had taught it to her and now she insisted on doing it with all members of the unit. It was adorable.

“Please Nadia,” Jay cut in, giving his partner an apologetic glance, “we’ll get you that triple chocolate fudge cake you love so much, okay?” You were about to object to the promise when you thought better of it, it would be fine just this once, and you needed some to offer some kind of incentive. 

“Deal,” she responded without hesitation, nodding her head vigorously, “bye mommy, bye daddy,” she said cheerfully, dipping back behind the desk with Trudy as you both said your goodbyes back.

Trudy managed to find a chair or stood for Nadia to stand on as you began to exit the building, giving her another wave as her head popped up over the desk. As you headed out with your unit you heard her turn to Trudy and ask: “do I get a gun?”

“You most certainly do not,” Trudy said, “but I can find you a badge.” 

You didn’t hear anything else with the doors closing behind you but you weren’t worried, both you and Jay laughing as you made your way to your vehicles. Nadia was in good hands. 

[tipsylorie]

Dream Project Pt. 3 {title in progress}

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: Hola everyone, here is part 3 but not yet proof-read. I hope you will like it nevertheless...

Word Count: 2.7K

THE NEXT DAY

Liviana drove herself to office due to the driver’s message early in the morning that says he will be late because of an emergency. Upon arriving the buildings parking lot, instead of her driver, it was her assistant who was waiting with a worried look.

“Why the long face baby boy?” This is the thought that has been running through Liv’s mind when she saw her assistant, and this made her laugh. It took a while for her to compose herself so with a long face, she just remarks as she exits the car, “Why the sad face Jer?”

“Why are you laughing though?” Jayceon asked with a growing grin, but Liv just dismissed it by saying ‘nothing’. So he continues to inform his boss, “It turns out that your driver for today had to rush her wife to hospital earlier so there won’t be anyone to drive you.”

“This won’t do, I have to get these cakes delivered and to check the situation in Paradigmia.” Liv said with worry written all over her face but then she suddenly smiles, “You do have a license, right?” She asked the young man who responses with a nod. “Then you’ll drive. I just have to get some materials in my office.”

Jayceon sees Liviana walking towards the car and anxious on how his driving should be. Because the only one who he was able to drive are his friends. Heck, his parents don’t even know that he can since he has always been provided with a driver and an assistant. It didn’t help either when Liv chose to seat beside him after she arranged the materials and cakes at the back seat. “Why are you sitting here instead of over there?” Jayceon nervously asked as he points to the back seat diagonal to the driver’s seat as where bosses should sit according to some according to etiquette.

“Well, I am not really used to passenger seat being vacant. Don’t worry Jer, this is perfectly normal and please just treat me more as your friend instead of your boss. It will be more comfortable that way.” Liv informed her assistant.

Jayceon smiles as he was happy hearing how humble his business partner is, so he proceeded saying, “Ok then Liv, buckle up and enjoy the ride!”

It was an internal chaos in Jayceons mind since he doesn’t really want to go to his habit of over speeding and to scare Liviana however his childhood acting lessons had paid off since he was able to act composed and relaxed while he’s driving his temporary boss. Okay, so if you’re wondering about Jayce’s early life, his mother well like all Asian mothers are, enrolled him in all extracurricular activities she could come across. Therefore, ever since in the age of 4 he had already experienced EVERYTHING, from sports to performing arts.

Upon arriving to the Academy’s main branch, Liv immediately went to her friend Anne’s office. “Annie! Been so long, I made you some cupcakes!” She enthusiastically greeted her friend.

Anne was a little bit puzzled by the sudden visit, “What’s up? Why the cupcakes?” She asked. However, Liv just gave her a questioning look as a response and it only dawned on her that it was their friend’s birthday. So, the look at her face was so funny as if she experienced horror while saying, “OH MY GOSH! How could I forget?”

“Don’t worry Anne. Just message her later or maybe give her a visit after your working hours. It’s just a 30-minute ride so… It’s up to you.”

“Well, if it is up to me, I will just take a half day off and go to her but yeah cannot do that because my boss would be mad.”

“Ha, I know what you’re trying to do, well just so y’know as your boss I would totally not mind however I know how keen you are with your work so I reckon that you will finish today’s job and just go to her later after working hours.” Liv said the last words with a tap on Anne’s shoulder then left her office.

As they left, Anne just snickered on how her long-time friend never failed to read her like an open book.

*

On their way to Paradigmia, they stopped at a gas station since Jayceon found the need to pee. So Liviana just waited in the car. Jayce always has the impulse to buy something since he finds this satisfying. When he was about to pay, only then he realised that he left his wallet in the car’s compartment that is in between the driver’s seat and passenger seat. So, he hurriedly opened Liv’s door side in a rush, and tried to open the compartment and reached it and however this fell on the backside and without thinking Jayce climbed on top of Liv and once he reached his wallet he exclaimed, “Yes! Finally got it!”

This woke Liv up and her eyes widened in surprise. Jayceon just froze and stared to her eyes, and he had the urge to gulp just to somehow slow the rapid beating of his heart. To snap him back to reality, Liv asked, “What are you doing?” in a concerned voice and was trying hard not to jump to conclusion since as far as she knows, the guy in front of her was gay.

Jayce or in Liv’s perspective, Jer stepped back to not cause any alarm and calmly said, “I was just trying to reach for my wallet,” showed the wallet in his hand, “because I have items waiting in the counter of that 7-Eleven.”  He pointed to the convenience store in the side of the car.

“Oh okay, but you know you could’ve used the other door, right?” Liv asked genuinely.

“I didn’t think of that earlier since I was in a rush. I am so sorry about that.” Jayce apologised. “I promise it won’t happened ever again!” He subconsciously emphasised as his eyes asked for forgiveness.

In Liv’s perspective, she cannot stay mad to this adorable guy in front of her. “Fine, just never ever do that again to me or to anyone ever again.” She informed her employee.

“Pinky swear! Brb just gonna pay for those food! Thank you, Liv!”

As Jayce ran back to the convenience store, Liv thought it was really odd for Jer to stare at her like that. However, she just dismisses this immediately and went back to her nap since she knows it will be a long day in Paradigmia.

“Hey,” Jayce said as he tapped Liv’s shoulder when he sat at the driver’s seat. “You want some peanuts? It’ll help to lessen your sleeping.”

Liv slowly opened her eyes and looked at the bag of peanut he was holding, “Yes, that would be great.”

As Jayce prepped himself to drive, he asked a last question, “What did you do last night that made you this tired today?”

“Well obviously the cake made me use all my remaining energy last night. I don’t know maybe I had a tiring dream.”

“You also believe that? Despite not remembering the dream?” He asked and she just nodded with a faint smile as a response. “So glad that I am not the only one.”

After few more minutes they finally arrived to the apartment of Julie. Liv asked Jayceon to grab the balloons she prepared at the backseat. “You had balloons? Why haven’t I seen it?” He asked in amusement. “Well, maybe I unintentionally intentionally hid it?” This just made the pair chuckle as the guy grabbed the balloons, the lady handled the cakes.

“After centuries you’re finally here!” Liv’s best friend, Julie exclaimed as she hugged her while holding the cakes.

“Careful! My masterpiece!” Liv yelled.

“Sorry but that will not even last a day in this household.” Julie rebuked. This resulted to the three of them laughing.

“Did Anne tell you she’ll be here later?” Liv asked her good friend.

“Yeah, she felt so guilty of almost forgetting and thanked God when you thought of leaving some of your wonderful cupcakes in her office and she has time to prepare.” Julie nonchalantly informed Liv.

“So, what do you prefer, stay here while we wait for her or let’s head now to the hotel I already booked for tonight?” Liv asked.

Julie replied after some thinking, “Well, I think my family will still visit here shortly to give cakes and such, so maybe wait for Anne in here.”

With Julie’s response, Liv faced her assistant and informed him, “So, if you want to take a rest you can go to the hotel first. I am sending you know the voucher for your room, and by just showing this to the reception, I think you’ll be assisted to your room immediately. Just leave the car and keys since we really do not plan to get wasted so I’ll just drive us there and I’ll just let you know once we arrived there. Is that okay?”

As Liviana is explaining her proposition, Jayceon cannot help but take notice on how she always has the tendency to worry about everyone around her ergo, planning everything tediously beforehand. He admires this but at the same time feel sorry for her since she has the kind of person who loves to smile despite the truth that deep inside, she is already drowning. He can see this because she tries so hard every single time as if it is always her life on the line. He wishes that somehow he can help her to loosen up a bit and be true of what she truly feels. (A/N: Jayceon has taken a lot of Psychology modules in undergrad as a hobby that made him enjoy analysing human behaviour and Liviana has been one of the most interesting person he has met.)  So after listening to Liv, he answered, “Yep, sure thing! That all sound great! So I guess, see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, Jer see ya! Thank you for the help. Ooh I almost forgot, I also set aside these cupcakes for you.” Liviana said as she gave the 3 pieces cupcakes in a sealed tray.

“Thank you Liv! Really appreciate it! Bye!” He remarked as he waved goodbye then got inside the taxi they messaged.

~Jayceon in the hotel~

Jayceon went to the counter which the receptionist immediately recognised him as his family being the co-owner of the hotel. In which he was greeted immediately with a bow and for the employee to immediately ring for the Executive Manager. Jayce then quickly tried to explain his stuation in the most discreet way possible. Telling him to stop his manager from coming because most probably him having prior commitments with his work. He just asked for the receptionist to give him the room stated in the voucher and instead to have Liviana Voss in the most expensive room available during her stay and charge her with only the amount the room she booked. So just like that, Jayce had his staff to put Liv in the Premium Suite Penthouse which is technically a room with rooms and a second floor that has a direct access to the rooftop.

Jayce was pretty proud with what he did especially on how smart he think it was. To have Liviana be one of the lucky winners in an online booking event that never existed. After feeling content, he took a nap to make sure he will not miss any updates from his “boss”. But didn’t miss the beat to take a taste of the cupcake after dinner. He can surely tell that it was made with love.

~Meanwhile in Julie’s Household~

“So, who was that guy? He looks so good! Do you have a thing with him?” Julie prompted with the question she has been holding until that guy left.

Liv answered with a grin, “I knew it! I can already sense your questions like once we both entered your house. And the answers would be: first us my assistant; second, yep he is but not interested with girls; and finally, I think no?”

“Omg, you do have! Spill!” Julie enthusiastically ordered.

“But it is your birthday! Why talk about me? We need to focus on you getting older!” Liv claimed.

Julie tried to explain, “Still, I am the birthday girl, so you need to let me use my power card for today of you to just share about this matter, please?”

“Fine! I love you so much that is why I am letting you use the card.” Liv gave in.

Julie was delighted with this by saying, “YAYYYY! BEST BDAY because of the BEST TEA!” But then suddenly interrupted with her family entering the house with their spare key. This made Liviana laugh so much that Julie’s family can see her almost rolling off the ground literally but thankfully she was able to stop herself. Julie’s family only stayed for like 2 hours since they also have some stuff already planned.

Once they left, Liv and Julie cleaned a little bit and wash the little number of dishes. Just right after they finished, Anne already arrived, and this made Julie happier since Liv can share the tea to the both of them at the same time. Liv’s narration went like this:

“Well, I was taking a nap since I was really exhausted with the baking and decorating so I really do hope you guys will love and like it. So, while napping I can feel that something is different, and I can see him staring at me adoringly? I guess, it was really weird because I felt something. It also feels like an eternity and still his position being on top of me didn’t change and remind you that the seat was declined so it was really awkward and I can also see his change in demeanour of somewhat being manly like more than so he normally is and he also gulped that really sent shivers to my spine. Just overall – WEIRD.”

Julie and Anne just looked at each other because they have the same idea. So Julie slowly proposed their idea, “Liviana, don’t you think it is time to consider that he is not gay? As we both can already sense with the vibes whenever the two of you are in a room, you guys act like high schoolers interacting with their first love like that is literally the aura the two of accentuates.”

Anne added, “Also this is nothing like the chemistry thingy back when we tried to ship you with someone in junior high instead this thingy right now is something that everyone can call sincere and genuine.”

Liv was really quiet with the insights her friends are telling her but all she managed to reply is a joke, “Okay guys, you two could really write a million-seller fiction right now.”

Anne just retorted as she and Julie are already used to their friend always being in denial which is the total hundred percent reason why she still never had any boyfriend, “Whatever Liv, just don’t tell us we didn’t inform you. I know that you know that there is a possibility with what Julie and I are saying. So please, don’t resist it anymore because you also need to find a partner too at some point.”

“Wow, our youngest just scolded me. Yes Ms. Annie, will do. So can we now finally celebrate Julie’s birthday?” Liv asked warily.

“YAYY!” The two girls exclaimed, and Julie shouted, “Movies and cupcakes!”

“Speaking of cupcakes, where did you put the cupcakes, I gave you Anne?” Liv asked.

Anne replied, “I have the half of them in my house and left some to my mother’s because you know how much she loves your cooking and baking!”

Liv responded, “Yes of course, I am glad she still does.” She asked, “Julie, what movie do you want?”

“Ugh please, let’s not do that, we will spend like an hour just looking for a movie, guys just pick a number up to 10.”

“Three!” Liv exclaimed.

“Five!” Anne yelled.

“Okay the Liv, just choose the eighth one while pressing the arrow down keys in the remote control.”

“We got, Force of Nature, a 2020 film. Is that okay?” Liv asked as she manages the TV.

“Yup!” Julie replied while she takes the cupcakes to a plate and placed the cake in her refrigerator.

“Sounds great!” Anne responded as she handled the flavoured drinks. They all agreed to get drunk once they arrived at the hotel.

After the movie, the cupcakes also ended. So they cleaned up and prepared their things for the second party in the hotel.

Re-blog for part four!

Lemme know what you think…

[azucanela]

DAY 24. MUSIC

PAIRING: BAKUGOU KATSUKI X FEM!READER 

WARNINGS: NONE.

A/N: im no piano expert so excuse any errors but i did play a lil bit so

FLUFFVEMBER MASTERLIST

Shortly after the festivities put on by all the classes of UA, it became abundantly clear that Bakugou Katsuki had many talents, music being one of them. Though he’d never been outright about it, much less mentioned it at all despite numerous conversation coming up regarding music, the boy clearly had some ability. Likely because of his parents and his own desire to simple be better than... everyone.

He’d never really viewed it as a necessary skill, so he never viewed it as a topic of conversation. Though some of his classmates had made it their mission to determine all of his apparent talents now, he’d made a point to ignore— or threaten— them. 

And yet here he was.

“You have such a nice home, Katsuki!”

Seeing as Bakugou’s parents had accumulated quite the wealth over the years, they’d managed to afford quite a few luxuries during his childhood. Including the piano that now sat in their living room, the one he used to practice on constantly as a child, attempting to perfect his piano playing skills. And said piano seems to be what Y/N had fixated on. 

Y/N had come over for the sake of completing a project the two had been assigned to do together— or at least, that’s what Bakugou told himself. There was a reason that he and Y/N were also partnered together by Aizawa, that reason being the simply fact that Y/N was the only person Bakugou ever really tolerated.

His nosed crinkled at her words, and Bakugou found himself shrugging as he replies, “thanks.” His eyes fall back on her as he watches her look around curiously, her own eyes surveying the area and darting across the room. 

“So... do you play piano too?” She asks, dragging her hand across the rim of the piano as she looked to him, tilting her head at him as she awaited an answer.

Bakugou could feel his cheeks warm, much to his disdain. “Kinda.” Comes his response as he approaches the piano, Y/N electing to take a seat at the bench, her eyes glued to the keys. Bakugou finds himself rolling his eyes as he takes a seat beside her roughly, “well? What are you waiting for? Give it a go.”

The look of shock on her face almost has him wondering if his response was worse than he had expected. Though Y/N simply allows a small laugh to escape her as she presses a finger against one of the keys, the noise sounding throughout the room. 

Bakugou only watches as she begins to experiment with the keys, tapping along until she finds a pattern of keys that resembles a song she knows. One that Bakugou finds himself recognizing as she plays it for the tenth time in search of the next key in the sequence. Though she’s playing a much more simplified version, it’s what song she’s going for.

Wordlessly, Bakugo extends a hand towards the keys, bringing Y/N’s attention back to him, causing him to pause. Though she only offers him a smile as she moves to allow him more access to the keys.

But Bakugou only snatches her hand, stopping it from moving as he averts his eyes from hers and guides it down the length of the keyboard to finally press one of the white keys. 

“It’s that one.” He grumbles out, clearing his throat as he straightens in his seat alongside her. 

He goes to remove his hand, though Y/N’s words stop him, “show me?”

Exhaling deeply, Bakugou rolls his eyes, “sure whatever.” Comes his response, though he can feel the insecurity building up in his chest. It had been a while since he’d played the piano— much less played this song. And yet his fingers find the starting keys almost out of instinct as he begins to play. 

Y/N’s eyes remained glued on him as he plays. Though it’s not until he finishes that she exclaims in awe, “Bakugou— That’s amazing!”

This time, when Bakugou meets her eyes, pausing as he does, there seems to be a mutual understanding between them. As they sit on the bench in such close proximity, he opens his mouth to speak, only for nothing to come out of his mouth. 

And for the first time in his life, Bakugou Katsuki finds himself speechless. In a good way, that is.