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nevadas-night-time-novelist · 10 months ago

Note

hurt/comfort with female reader with Werewolf! Sanford?

reader has she/they pronouns

Pubby man :3

Werewolf!Sanford x Demigirl!reader

CW: mentions of painful transformation, reader gets hurt by accident

Scrolling down your feed today greeted you with posts and photos of both your ex boyfriend and ex best friend, mutual friends showering them with love and praise about their engagement, completely forgetting about how a year ago you'd caught them cheating together.

She was moved in, and you were evicted, a lifelong friendship down the drain, and a supposedly solid relationship of five years gone, bags packed and dumped outside with you.

Old scars ached again, tears filling your eyes despite how hard you tried to fight them. "She thought I actually loved her!" Ex bf laughed, his girl joining in. "They're so stupid! I mean really [Name], do you think someone like him would care for a nothing like you?"

It was dark, a light drizzle dampening your skin and suitcase, hands shaking from the winter chill and adrenaline pumping in your veins. Who could you even call right now? The two people you'd usually turn to were the ones who'd caused this agony.

A name popped up in your contacts, one you'd run with in the past for a brief period. Sanford, a man with a spotty past, but a heart of gold. It'd been a few years... Would he have the same number? Would he remember you? Would he even care?

You hit dial.

Your walk down memory lane was disrupted as the bed was weighed down, San flopping down next to you with a towel around his hips, and one around his lengthy locs. "Hey princess," He sported a wolfish grin, but it dropped when he saw you crying. "oh sweetie, what's wrong?"

He sat up and pulled you into his arms, even if you'd tried to resist, you doubted you could, his arms muscular from all the fighting and heaving lifting he did in his day-to-day. The smell of wet dog clung to him, part of his lycanthropy, no matter how hard he scrubbed or what scents he used, he'd always smell of wet dog out of the shower.

"It-it's been a year since it happened," He glanced and your phone, still on the photo featuring ex bestie's hand, showing off the stupid rock on her finger. Carefully he took your phone and set it down.

Over the past year, you'd rekindled your friendship with Ford, introducing you to his current company and friends. As different as you were to the team, they'd mostly accepted you with open arms, with the exception of the ever looming darkness named Hank. They still didn't seem to have warmed up to you.

"Why did you bring an outsider in? She looks weak, unable to pull their weight here." Hank grumbled in annoyance.

"Cause they're Ford's friend, you moody creep." Deimos rolled his eyes, patting your shoulder. "A friend of Fordie's is a friend of mine, alright chiquita?"

Doc, the leader of the group, watched you carefully behind his red tinted goggles. "I'll the the risk and accept you on the grounds that Sanford trusts you. But make no mistake, if you cross us, you won't like what will happen."

Once or twice a month, the boys would shower after working, and head out at night which had confused you at first, until you'd come to realise these outings always lined up with full moons. You'd cornered Sanford about it once, and he folded, showing off a massive scar on his back, claws had raked down it and eternally changed his fate.

"Werewolf. Would've have figured there would be werewolves out here, but there's vampires and witches, and other occultist stuff." He shivered as you touched them, long since healed over, but still sensitive and tender to touch. "I accidentally turned Deimos into one, who bit Doc and turned him, and in turn he changed Hank."

Despite the four of them being werewolves, you'd never seen any of them in their wolfy forms, and the curiosity picked at your brain whenever you glanced the scars on San's back, the one on Dei's shoulder, Doc's wrist and Hank's throat.

"C-can you please stay with me tonight?" You sobbed into Sanford's chest, and he let out a long sad dog sigh.

"It's a full moon tonight princess." His golden eyes met yours. "It'd be incredibly dangerous."

"Please?"

He sighed again. "Changing isn't super fun to watch, you get used to the pain after a few turns, but the noises and movements of it can be disturbing. But I am worried about you, so I will stay tonight. But whatever happens, please know I'm not going to be in full control of myself. The animalistic side can be vicious, which is why we go outside."

Darkness fell, Deimos whined about taking Sanford out and Doc seemed unconvinced about leaving you alone with another wolf, but eventually the three left when Hank began groaning and falling onto his hands, a sign of incoming change.

"Hank's always the first to turn." Sanford was laying on his stomach while resting his head on your lap, wearing boxer shorts and nothing else. Why would he get dressed up to tear out of his clothes later?

"I'd say it's because Doc bit him in the throat so the wolf side hits hit brain faster, but it's much more likely they're so eager to hunt and tear that they kinda force it." He was helping distract you, and it was working fairly well.

"Does he grow fur or is he bald like he normally is?" You had to stifle a laugh imagining a hairless werewolf.

"He grows thick black fur, like his eyebrows. But it's kinda funny they get hair once or twice a month only to lose it in the morning." San chuffed before letting out a long groan and exhale. "It's starting to happen, princess."

His golden eyes met yours, his iris growing further into his eye, his pupils narrowing into fine points. "I don't want to scare you, are you really sure you want me here tonight?"

"I couldn't be scared of you Sanford. I... Like you too much to be scared." A loud snap came from his body, his skull began to reform, nose and lips pushing outwards and transforming into a snout.

Sanford snarled the whole time his body shifted, his bones cracking and reshaping to accommodate his wolf form. You tenderly supported his head on your lap as he writhed in pain, he raked his claws over your thigh by accident, leaving bloodied scratches.

A mixture of black and dark grey fur coated his body, his arms, legs, back and face black, while the rest was dark grey with black mixed in. He was beautiful, his pelt incredibly soft under your fingers. San's golden eyes opened, and he looked up to you, a mixture of wildness and familiarity in him.

His cold wet nose twitched, and he looked down at your leg, noticing the scratch he'd made. "Don't... worry about it." You mumbled softly, apprehensive that he'd turn vicious if you spoke too loud. Of course you loved and trusted him, but at the end of a day, he was a gigantic wolf, who could tear you apart.

He licked the wound, and it ached, before going numb, and you watched as the flesh slowly melded together, forming a bumpy scar. Wolf spit had a healing factor of some kind, interesting.

Sanford got up, stretching his full body, joints creaking and popping slightly as they settled into their new positions. He shook his body, sending fluff everywhere, coating you, the bed, the floor, every surface.

"What are you going to do now..?" He looked at you, tilting his head aside. Normally he'd be full of energy, ready to spring, hunt, kill. But right now... He just wanted to lay with his packmate. San settled back on the bed, his chest heaving with each breath.

Admittedly he looked comfortable, and you cautiously laid your head on his side, hearing his heart beating. His fur was silky soft, he was a massive fluffy pillow, perfect to just close your eyes for a second on and-

You woke to the bed being disturbed, opening your aching eyes to see another wolf standing over you, his sea-glass eyes glittering softly. Tufts of black intertwined with his brown and white fur, his tail wagging slowly, careful to not spook you.

He smelled of smoke and earth, his tongue lolling slowly as he panted, tired from his hunt. Deimos, definitely Deimos. He collapsed over you, Sanford letting out a loud huff as the smaller, but still larger than you, wolf made himself comfy.

The next was a wolf of light and dark grey, white around his muzzle to show his age. Doc, judging by the black streaks sticking up like a mohawk along his back, and the scars along his face. He pressed his nose to your cheek before laying behind Sanford, the two back to back.

Last was a jet black wolf with angry red eyes, he leaped onto the bed, his lips peeled back. Interestingly, his missing lower jaw had been changed into one that bit his wolf face, and there was blood oozing from it. A lot of blood.

Hank spat a severed finger onto your chest, a familiar looking engagement ring around it, before they laid down, cheek slightly touching your leg. As grizzly as his gift was, at least Hank had done something nice for you. Kinda.

You tossed the finger aside and let the warm wolf pile lull you back to sleep, dreams of one day running with them flooding your mind. Perhaps... One day.

#hank #deimos #sanford #2bdamned #madcom #madness combat #madness combat x reader #madness combat reader insert #sanford x reader #x reader #x gon deliver to ya

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deadcactuswalking · 5 months ago

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REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 29/06/2024 (Coldplay, Charli xcx/Lorde, Post Malone/Blake Shelton)

Her second week for her second #1, Sabrina Carpenter stays at the top of the UK Singles Chart on an otherwise… interesting week, reflected in pretty much aspect, so… welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS!

content warning: language, misogyny, alcohol

Rundown

As always, we start with the notable dropouts, songs exiting the UK Top 75, which is what I cover, after five weeks in the region or a peak in the top 40. This week, we bid adieu to a surprisingly small selection of “Feather” by Sabrina Carpenter, “Gata Only” by FloyyMenor and Cris Mj, “As it Was” by Harry Styles and of course, since we haven’t fared well at the Euros, “3 Lions”.

As for our notable gains, since we don’t have much in the way of returns outside of Disclosure’s “You & Me” featuring Eliza Doolittle back once again at #65, we see boosts for “Mind Still” by Sonny Fodera and blythe at #68, “NIGHTS LIKE THIS” by The Kid LAROI surprisingly up big to #47, “Kisses” by BL3SS and CamrinWatsin featuring bbyclose at #44, “the boy is mine” by Ariana Grande at #39 off of the remix with Brandy and Monica (cheap idea, bad execution), “KEHLANI” by Jordan Adetunji at #29 which is a decidedly unslizzy occurrence, “DEVIL IS A LIE” by Tommy Richman at #21, “Not Like Us” by Kendrick Lamar riding the high of The Pop Out at #14 and really, the biggest story: Chappell Roan. Not only are “Red Wine Supernova” and “HOT TO GO!” up to #40 and #33 respectively, she gets her first ever top 10 hit with “Good Luck, Babe!” hitting #7.

As for the top five, we see much of the expected. “BIRDS OF A FEATHER” by Billie Eilish is at #5, Eminem’s “Houdini” is at #4, Shaboozey’s “A Bar Song (Tipsy)” is at #3 and of course, both Sabrina Carpenter songs in the top 10 stick to the top two: “Espresso” at #2 and the newer “Please Please Please” at the top spot. As for what’s below it… thankfully not a lot in sheer quantity but a lot of interest so let’s try and make sense of it.

New Entries

#69 - “Tears” - Perrie

Produced by Ido Zmishlany

These “extended” versions are a bit ridiculous recently: personally, I’d prefer my songs come complete in the package and I don’t have to find booster packs. With that said, the aforementioned extended version of this newest single from Little Mix’s second-to-most recent solo breakout, Perrie Edwards, is very good. We’ve had a lot of smooth, lounge-esque 80s pastiches on this show, but this delves so fully into glitzy synth-funk that it’s really admirable. The groove, though a bit plastic and muddy in the mix as you kind of expect from cheaper UK pop production, is undeniable and the easy guitar melody has been in my head persistently since I first heard it. Most importantly, Ms. Edwards actually plays with the instrumental and its composition as a vocalist, she doesn’t just sit afloat in the way many other singers would, and that includes, say, a Dua Lipa. The weirdly fast-paced tumble of a chorus displays that messy breakup so well and rings alarm bells in the posturing that she’s really over it, guys, she’s totally not been thinking about him, within the verses, but she’s still rightfully angry and the chorus isn’t that awkward of a tumble that it can’t carry the same swagger the instrumental from Mr. Zmishlany commands. It’s no surprise to me that this guy has worked before with people like Shawn Mendes and Sabrina Carpenter given how breezy of a listen it is, though Perrie doesn’t stumble over her own writing in the way those two do: she shares the command of the song with the funk behind her. It truly is a brilliant pop song, yet it turns out to be the one that’ll probably flop. I understand that the Little Mix girls have had, so far, very ephemeral solo stardom, but the quality is really there for a lot of them, so it’s a damn shame that the girl group fame hasn’t rubbed off more than it probably should have.

#60 - “misses” - Dominic Fike

Produced by Dominic Fike

Ah, Dominic Fike. I remember when I knew that one song which was a pretty good song, and never even needed to think about him for a second song, let alone an acting career that I couldn’t care about but have heard… not so great things regarding, as well as of course pushing out some of the most insufferable indie pop of the last few years, of which some has been covered here. This new track… okay, are you fucking kidding me? This is one minute and 14 seconds. I get Fike has gained virality more for his demos than his completed songs, and that sometimes this is valid, but you can tell how inauthentic and tacky the “distortion” here is, and the fact that it’s all packed into barely more than one minute shows me two things: 1.) the writers and producers are lazy, 2.) they’re chasing some of that success he got from dumping some, at least honest and interesting, demos onto streaming services. Oh, and a third thing: it was written and produced solely by Fike himself. That’s not particularly impressive, of course, when it’s somehow completely forgettable despite being so concise and insistent on drilling that one chorus melody into you, but he also devolves into vocal riffing midway through over an unchanging garage rock plonker that couldn’t pick up any momentum if it tried. And of course, because it’s Fike, I don’t need to tell you that the lyrics are condescending towards women. Calling her his “miss” is already off to a rough start without some needed context, and he doesn’t grant us that, instead going onto consider the relationship dead and reassuring her that she’ll be “grieved” - as if the woman in any given relationship actively wants their ex-boyfriend to grovel about them instead of just going their separate ways - before pinning the blame on her because he’s just a man who loved too much too quickly, right? The verse later basically berates her for being useless, and that when she’s not with him, she’s misguided and invisible, despite the fact that she’s so beautiful, yeah, piss off. This is a barely-constructed song with nasty attitudes on an album seemingly full of these shitty, malformed interludes and I don’t see any value in it sticking around.

#41 - “Wave” - Asake and Central Cee

Produced by Magicsticks

Nigerian singer Asake, who I’ve praised before on this show but mostly in the lower rungs of the chart and off of it entirely, is finally getting a real UK push, given the Cench feature, and whilst I liked “Lonely at the Top” largely for lyrical and performance reasons, this if anything is more of an exhibition for his producer, Magicsticks, as this is a genuinely unique instrumental here. It’s got an Afrobeats rhythm for sure, but not only is the drum pattering shakier but it’s accompanied by what I can only describe as a groan stick, which follows as weedy a melody as the later flutes. This is largely a chill song about relaxing and flexing, but the flatter sense of groove that exists here, the way the drums never embrace their full punch into long after Asake had meandered beyond the chorus, and only when Central Cee comes in, and still in a slightly staggered, stuttering way, it’s a really interesting decision that works out very well. It almost reminds me of Brazilian funk sometimes, especially with its cacophonic approach and that later screeching synth. As for content, it doesn’t really matter, but I do wish there was a little more substance or at least a less generic Cench verse, but really, the weird note the very busy and tense instrumental carries when placed against the Afrobeats genre’s use of choir vocals is really fascinating. It doesn’t fully hit, but it’s a risk that is pulled off by ensuring other elements of the mix, like Asake’s drowned out vocals or the general blandness of Cench’s cadences, are kept to the sidelines, which doesn’t lead to a fuller song but still an interesting one that is still developing on itself with extra choir harmonies and even uglier synth fuzz at its last moments. Maybe it’s not one I’ll go back to - it’s not particularly catchy - but it’s an interesting way to grab a different audience’s attention.

#37 - “us.” - Gracie Abrams featuring Taylor Swift

Produced by Aaron Dessner, Gracie Abrams, Taylor Swift and Jack Antonoff

So, Gracie Abrams, daughter of J.J. of course, released her let’s-pretend-it’s-adebut record, The Secret of Us, and surprisingly to me, despite pretty much no traction before this, it went to #1 on the albums chart: here is your golden ticket as to why. Not particularly this song, but the idea of Taylor Swift being behind this specific young singer and project, as well as making a direct appearance, absolutely helped. It also makes perfect sense considering that both of Abrams’ prior songs I had heard that charted were basically less self-realised Taylor Swift leftovers. She even got both Dessner and Antonoff on here because of course, and well, firstly, I don’t understand why this is a duet - and barely at that. Abrams derives from both her own older tracks and Taylor’s to create some unsubtle metaphors and oddly fragmented verses about a former relationship, and Taylor is here for decoration as far as thematics are concerned as there isn’t a clear attempt at implementing her vocal presence into the narrative. That’s… fine, if not lazy, but once you get to the lyrics themselves, it’s all kind of a shambles that apes Taylor’s style of writing without actually making all too much sense. I would appreciate the fantastical, forelorn imagery of “Babylon lovers hanging lifetimes on a vine”, if she didn’t ask her ex if they “miss[ed hers]”… what exactly could they miss here? If the point is that the vine represents a “lifetime”, then in what sense does it make for someone to “miss” a “lifetime”? Abrams could say that the relationship felt like a lifetime, or took a lifetime out of her, that would make sense, but it gets confused with the use of the Babylon imagery - also, the hanging gardens of Babylon are disputed to have even existed at all, but not in a concrete way where we know exactly what it’s being confused with or who exactly fabricated it, so “Babylon lovers” and the “vine” conceit feels like a cheap use of imagery without really understanding its origin, especially since Abrams makes “us” - I.e. the relationship - solid and established in that chorus.

The verses may be a bit of basic word salad, but when you try and make connections between certain ideas, they start to break down - what does being 29 years old actually have anything to do with being welcoming or open with your younger partner? If you’re going to include the “so”, there should be a connection but it’s never explained. It gets worse and worse throughout the song also: I know the “prophets”/”profits” homonym was probably just an inescapable cliché for our gang of four - even if it actually muddles the flow of that bridge - but what actually ARE the “false profits they make in the margins of poetry sonnets”? Who’s “they”, book publishers? How are the profits in any way “false”, or the exact “margins” of a sonnet relevant? Oh, and thanks for specifying “poetry sonnets”, not to be confused with the other types of sonnets that aren’t poetic, all zero of them. You could argue that part is purposefully meaningless as it criticises the guy for his misunderstanding of literature, sure, but I think to pull that off, one needs to 1.) show an understanding of the unnamed poetry he supposedly misconstrued and 2.) not, in your own poetry, express yourself in obtuse ways acting as rhythmic filler.

If you’re going to bring up Robert Bly and the irony that this guy gifted you his work without understanding its reference to masculinity and not representing the values in Bly’s work, how is this guy in any way “incomparable”? You just made a comparison! The condescending lyric from Taylor that he never “read up on” any of the literature he cared about and that he “could have learned something”, sounds really hypocritical in this song full of adding complexity and faux-poignant takes or, well, comparisons into a song ultimately lacking any nuance, because what does adding any of this meaninglessness really contribute to the general picture Taylor will paint of any ex-boyfriend in a typical song? I’m a sucker for detail lyrically but detail that actually gratifies the listener for looking carefully, not punishing them once the cracks are realised. This sounds nit-picky but is genuinely incredibly distracting for a song wherein I’m supposed to reeled into the narrative on display… and Hell, I’m always being told that Taylor is one of the greatest songwriters, so I’m not sure why I can’t nit-pick for every detail.

Obviously, this is not my only problem with the song. Dessner’s acoustic guitar is twiddly and oddly tense as well as feeling copy-pasted throughout the song, Abrams sounds like a BTEC Lorde on a chart week where we get the real deal taking genuine artistic risk - more on that later - and the chorus is a sludge of a lead vocal melody covered in feathery vocal layers that really emphasise how little is being said. If I were right-wing, I’d probably take even further offense in the sheer amount of pronouns Abrams is shoving down my ears, and honestly, I still am, because outside of the bridge, what is “us”? Why should he miss that? The bridge has all the plastic cinematic swell of a video game trailer, full with swooshing effects and some of the worst drums I’ve heard in pop this year just because of how staggered and dire they feel, they really contribute to a complete tonal clash with the supposed electricity and pure emotional feelings that the two sing about. I know this review is incredibly wrong for a song I don’t really like, but I did come into this with the idea that it’d probably be a good fit for the two to collaborate given Abrams’ influences and the potential for a really interesting narrative as a result, potentially playing off of that dynamic… yet what I get is a white, null void of platitudes that shatter at any scrutiny. Sorry, Swifties… or Abramites I suppose - this is one of my least favourite songs of the year so far.

#34 - “Pour Me a Drink” - Post Malone featuring Blake Shelton

Produced by Louis Bell and Charlie Handsome

Post Malone has yet to truly convince me on the straight-up country pivot. Sure, elements of folk and country have been vaguely reflected in his music for a while, if much lesser than the pop rock influences that have practically always been there and still largely are, but his producers are still his main guys - which I guess I can respect - and he decided Morgan Wallen wasn’t a seasoned enough veteran of Nashville so he went and bagged Mr. Gwen Stefani for the feature on yet another country drinking song… and I guess it’s fine. It’s exactly what you’d expect from a 2000s country-pop track, particularly one with some more organic fiddle but more canned drums and rock instrumentation, and I realise that I’m just describing a Blake Shelton song. Bizarrely, he fits less here than Post, who is a natural fit in his warble for this kind of casual country radio sing-a-long. Much like “I Had Some Help”, which this very much resembles, there’s a quicker pace to some of the songwriting, especially the chorus, that Shelton finds himself a bit behind sometimes, especially in that rough first verse to chorus transition. The second verse has some cool idea of chemistry between the two but it seems very forced. I can’t imagine a situation where Blake Shelton would be calling Post his “buddy” at an old bar as Post is trying to get with some girl. I think something is missing there, optics-wise… as well as a proper bridge, or any real harmonisation between the two, which also has no reason to be a duet, really. That really shows to me that Post or his label have little confidence in his ability to sell country, by lodging these veterans onto the track without any thematic relevance, and also not realising just how charismatic Post is on his own. I can imagine the dumb grin on his tatted-up face as he records the song, I’m not sure I can really imagine Blake Shelton feeling anything at all. I also don’t really buy either of these guys trying to “keep up with the Joneses” - you ARE the Joneses, fellas - but that’s beside the point of the song. It’ll work in the right context, but it’s not like there’s not plenty of these types of songs and the inclusion of Blake Shelton here detracts from it quite a bit too.

#28 - “Girl, so confusing” - Charli xcx

Produced by A.G. Cook

Yeah, I prefer the solo version. Whilst it’s clear that Charli is talking about someone, probably Lorde, on “Girl, so confusing”, which is now confirmed, the more self-contained story of Charli misunderstanding cues and overthinking certain interactions she has with women in general, as well as the more specific showbiz talk, is much more compelling to me than knowing that it’s just about one woman in particular. That doesn’t mean the Lorde version can’t be that as well, but when I first listened to BRAT, “Girl, so confusing” really resonated with me, in part because of the anthemic nature of the chorus, with the scattered vocal stuttering very much in A.G. Cook’s wheelhouse, but also because, I mean, yeah. It is confusing sometimes to be a girl, and that general thesis, as well as applying the lyrics in the verses to everyday interactions, is something I can get behind and see a lot of value in, especially since it uses such a universally humanising statement to bring the album’s themes back home. Unfortunately, here comes Lorde, coming off the strength of her worst album, and making a song already about her… not very easily about anything else.

I’ve said this before with acts like Doja Cat and Ye, but when it gets too absorbed in gossip, I tend to tune out, and I can’t find many universalities in Lorde’s new contributions, to the point where that main lyric starts to sound closer to “It’s confusing to be Lorde”, which I don’t doubt but I also don’t care about hearing unless I spin a Lorde album, which, well, I do. I love Melodrama. What I don’t love is the awkward implementation of Lorde into the Auto-Tuned club-pop cacophony. She gets to the point - are you sure this is still Lorde? - but it’s through a breathless delivery that name-drops specific elements about Charli that take the song even further away from universality for the sake of the “moment”. I didn’t even realise people cared about a Lorde and Charli feud, one I didn’t know existed until this album dropped, and I honestly doubt this lasts much longer thanks to what is arguably a novelty aspect. I still do like the song, and yes, I will count the original in the conclusion because the Official Charts Company doesn’t credit Lorde, but I wish I could connect to it much more, and the way a lot of people really are gravitating to this viral moment at least gives me some solace in knowing it did do that for other people. The funniest end result for me would be if the song is actually about Marina and the Diamonds and this was all grade-A trolling.

#25 - “feelslikeimfallinginlove” - Coldplay

Produced by Max Martin, Oscar Holter, Bill Rahko, Daniel Green and Michael Ilbert

So, Coldplay are releasing their second weirdly-stylised, Max Martin-penned space album of the 2020s. Sure. These guys can do anything they want at this point and whilst it frustrates me that they don’t take the risks they have with that freedom, or at least in more compelling ways because there definitely are some… choices on the last few albums, some genuinely experimental and out-there, I know I’m not going to find that in a lead single, and hey, the band’s given us some great music in the past, with singles and deep cuts so there’s a level of expected quality and polish to everything they put out. Unexpectedly, however, I love this song. Yeah, I was surprised too, not been a fan of much Coldplay for a while, but this reminds me of the muted Ghost Stories, where its swell came from a genuine push and struggle to express those emotions, rather than the careening easiness of stumbling into orchestras or guitar overdubs like they usually do. If there’s any song in particular I feel that it’s reminiscent of, it’s probably that record’s big single, “Magic”. The difference here is that this is far from a divorce record, it’s a childishly lovestruck anthem, but one that starts with a piercing, glittery distortion that peters away for Damon Albarn-sounding synths and flickering drum sequencing that is as monotone as Chris Martin’s pained attempts at “la-la”s. He’s so tedious in his delivery that he ends up having to harmonise with a pitch-shifted version of his own vocal take, and all of that is a compliment, this is a really interesting song in terms of where it lies emotionally: he’s in love, but seemingly some of that love is coming out of a pity, a hand being lent to a guy who considers himself born to destroy everything good that comes to him. This is his one attempt to pull on those hands in full sincerity, acknowledging that it’s probably a mistake for him to do so but putting his heart and hope where his hands are: in the trust of a new partner who lets the windows open in spite of all that. Fitting for a Glastonbury performance, there are some lush synth and stringwork in the sing-a-long chorus, and it’s definitely a sing-a-long chorus given the simple melody and platitude lyrics that still do reflect some of the song’s conceits - “You’re throwing me a lifeline” is a great lyric to add to ensure that’s still embedded within each crack of the song’s premise, and yes, he rhymes it with “lifetime” and this time, it makes sense. I don’t usually say, “Take notes from Coldplay,” but we might have to start revising their back catalogue. There’s a certain restraint to the song’s true capabilities too - it’s in full slow build-up Coldplay territory of course, but all we have to really reflect on that other than the expected instrumentation is a guitar line so far to the left channel that it’s borderline communist, and a sputtering of lovestruck gibberish from Mr. Martin that’s honestly kind of adorable. It reminds me of when he performed lyrics from the Crazy Frog live on television as part of an instrumental break, it’s a cute and endearing way to end the song. Surprisingly enough, I do thoroughly enjoy this new Coldplay single. Been a while since I’ve said that with as little hesitation.

Conclusion

It’s tough. Who wasted my time the most? But whom did I clearly at least have something there to tussle with and find some value in outside of novelty? As controversial as this probably is, I’m ultimately going to grant Worst of the Week to “us.” by Gracie Abrams featuring Taylor Swift, because at least Dominic Fike’s vapid garbage is as transparent as it is, and yes, “misses” gets a very close Dishonourable Mention. As for the best, it’s also pretty evident here that it’s a toss-up between a few great songs, but ultimately I’ll actually lend it to Coldplay for “feelslikeimfallinginlove” because it sounds great in what might be a more unique emotional balance than the others, though I’m still giving a tied Honourable Mention to the girls, those being Charli xcx for “Girl, so confusing” and Perrie for “Tears”. As for what’s on the horizon, we’ll see whatever tangible impact Glastonbury and Headie One have, as well as that mess of a Camila Cabello album, Jason Derulo’s team-up with two prominent English DJs and maybe more K-pop than you’d think. Time will tell, however, and for now, thank you for reading, rest in peace to Shifty Shellshock - sugar! baby! - and I’ll see you next week.

#uk singles chart #pop music #song review #coldplay #charli xcx #lorde #gracie abrams #taylor swift #asake #central cee #post malone #blake shelton #perrie edwards #dominic fike

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 2 years ago

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🎁🎁🎁 Static and Snow

A SNEAKRET SANTA GIFT DRABBLE

A/N: Merry December and Happy Holidays, everyone! I posted briefly about this earlier today, but I have been sneakily working on some drabbles as gifts for the holidays, and since it’s officially December now, I am going to start putting them under the tree. These are my way of giving back to some of the lovely content creators here whose work brings me joy. I tried to personalize them a little bit for each person they’re dedicated to, but they’re just as much my gift to anyone who has ever shared their work or who has ever read mine. Thank you for being lovely <3

Gift Tag: @insomniamamma - Who had this to say when I asked “Ezra or Nico” - “Ok, SATAN! Seriously, this may be the hardest ask I've ever gotten.” - In the end, though, the answer was Ezra, and I chose the prompts fuzzy socks, books & silence to go along with him. J, your Prickle AU is one of my very favorites. Thank you for sharing it - along with all of your other incredible writing. Wishing you a very happy holiday season - I hope you enjoy your sneakret santa gift!!

WC: 1,238

Warnings: none. it’s a fluff.

Ezra sits in the oversized armchair in the corner with his book propped in his lap, lips parted and brow creased in concentration as he reads some novel about Ephratian pirates and a Karoclan warrior. He only started it that morning, plucking it from one of the bungalow’s teeming shelves, but he’s already more than half-way through it. Occasionally the phantom fingers of his right hand twitch when it’s time to turn the page. Despite nearly two years passing since he parted ways with the limb, he still has urges to use it.

I wonder if that sensation will ever fade away completely or if I’ll be forced to fight it off forever.

He does his best to ignore it for now, reaching - still a little clumsily - with his left hand to slip a finger beneath the sheet of paper so he can flip it and continue to read. But before he can submerge himself in the story once more, the crunchy sound of static cuts through the music playing softly in the background - old holiday tunes he hasn’t heard in decades suddenly tinged with crackling white noise.

Must be the weather, he muses. The snow had finished falling a few hours ago, but the temperature continued to plunge, freezing signal towers and satellite dishes, muting the world with cold. Ezra shrugs more deeply into the thick brown sweater he wears. He prefers to be warm. Prefers Lao and the Ephrate and even Central to anywhere where he has to layer up against the chill. He’s spent too much time in bulky suits, worrying about what could happen if the fabric were to tear to be comfortable this bundled up.

If he had his druthers, he’d much rather be bathing his bare skin in the rays of whichever star was on the rise in Kamrea.

The song on the radio cuts in and out so much that he can’t even tell which one it is anymore. With a sigh, he tucks his bookmark - a tattered ticket stub from his first Cirian Prime shuttle flight, the one where he met you - against the spine to hold his place, and sets the book down to deal with the frost ridden radio. “Think it’s time to-”

His words melt on his tongue as he looks up though, the sight across from him making him forget about the cold entirely. Oh, Kevva. I’ll never understand how or why a man like me stumbled upon luck like this but I am not fool enough to question it.

You and Cee had both fallen asleep on the couch, the girl’s head tilted close to your shoulder but not quite resting on it, a heavy orange blanket tossed over the two of you, and your books discarded in your laps. There is one tufted ottoman that both of you share, the two of you wearing matching pairs of fuzzy Cardovian wool socks to cover your feet, yours crossed at the ankles and Cee’s flopped outward. She has her hood pulled around her ears so that only a few strands of her blonde hair are visible around her cheeks, still reddish pink from the time spent outside earlier, when she’d been in pure awe of the icy wonderland around her.

You gave this to her, Comet. Ezra’s eyes shift over to your face and his chest swells as he thinks back to the night when you first brought the trip up.

“What about Itho?” You’d asked the question one night while you and Ezra finished dinner in your small apartment.

He’d narrowed his eyes as he chewed, consciously telling himself to pick up his napkin with his left hand instead of his absent dominant one. His eyebrow quirked up as he finally succeeded in wiping his mouth without issue. “Itho?” You nodded as he swallowed and tried to figure out where you were headed. “I don’t know, Comet, what about Itho?”

“Well,” You bit your bottom lip and set your fork down on the edge of your plate. “What if we… the three of us… what if we spend Cee’s winter break on Itho? I have some banked shuttle credits we can use for the trip, and Dezi already said she’d trade routes with me so I can have the whole week off. Her brother knows someone we could rent a bungalow from and...” You shrugged. “What do you think?”

He dropped his napkin back to the table and reached across it for your hand, your fingers sliding easily between his. Speaking your name, he gave you a squeeze. “Are you sure you want to-”

“Ezra.” You cut him off with a laugh and a shake of your head, lifting his hand up to your lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Yes, I’m sure. She’s gonna be sixteen soon and she said that she’s never seen snow, and-”

He got up from his seat then, walking around the small table to pull you to your feet and against his body, a startled sound escaping you as he wound his arm around your torso. “I think Itho sounds perfect.” Dropping his lips to the top of your head, he smiled into your hair. “Birdie is going to be thrilled when you tell her.”

He rises slowly from his seat so he doesn’t wake either of you, and turns to switch the radio off. The silence of the settled storm rushes in to fill the room, but he doesn’t seek to fill it immediately like he once might have. Getting used to the quiet is like getting used to the loss of his arm - on the Green, silence is deadly. If nothing comes in through the comms but static, it means that he’s on his own. But as he looks across the small room and sees the two people he cares about most in the universe, as he listens to the silence that acts like an extra blanket over everything, he sees that that isn't the case.

He’s known it for some time now, but this trip - ice and all - seems to solidify it in ways he can’t quite explain. I love you, Comet. And Cee does, too.

Cee’s book finally slips from her slack grasp and hits the carpeted floor with a muffled thunk that she sleeps through. The slight disturbance is enough to make you stir, though, your eyes fluttering open as you inhale through your nose. You smile down at the girl beside you before looking over at him, cheeks rising higher as your sleepy smile spreads. Clearing your throat, you carefully untuck yourself from the blanket and shuffle the few steps to where Ezra is still standing, your socks picking up a charge from rubbing against the carpet. You rise on your toes to bump your nose against his, a little zap of electricity where your skin touches his. “Bed?”

It’s just one word but it reaches down into his chest and swirls around his heart. It’s just one word and it’s one you utter to him almost on a nightly basis back home. But it’s one he knows he’ll never tire of hearing, one that gives him a sensation he knows with certainty will never fade.

He looks into your eyes as you bring one hand up to card through his hair, combing the increasingly shaggy locks back and away from his face, and he nods before kissing your palm. “Bed.”

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from my taglist, please feel free to let me know by sending a message or by filling out the form on my masterlist :)

tags: @something-tofightfor @alraedesigns @pheedraws @shoopidly @fific7 @valkblue @cannedsoupsucks @tobealostwanderer @paracosmenthusiast @gracie7209 @dihra-vesa @marauderskeeper @disgruntledspacedad @novemberrain221 @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @stevie75 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth @swtaura @thescarletfang @trickstersp8 @princessxkenobi @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns

#sneakret santa 2022 #ezra x female reader #ezra (prospect) x female reader #ezra (prospect) fic #ezra x you #ezra x reader #ezra (prospect)#cee (prospect)#happy holidays!!#static and snow #pedro pascal character #pedrostories

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junkdyke · 1 year ago

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ok so here's my situation with the twink who will not leave me the fuck alone.

Backstory, I'm in college, I had a gen ed class and this guy sits next to me (call him P) He always wants to talk with me during breaks, waits for me after class, once he got my IG he'd message me during the class as well. Just very clingy off the bat. I saw him at a party, and he asked if I'd ever wanna hang out. Just really wanted to go out, party, whatever, and at the time I was all about it. Like yeah, let's go to the club, go bar hopping, w/e

Flash forward to The Pajama Party. I live-blogged about this during that time and talked about the situation, talking about P in a very affectionate way at the time. Here's the rundown of everything that happened and where the shitshow begins.

P wants to throw a house party. He has never thrown one before, but he wants to throw a party to "annoy his neighbors". I assume the neighbors are old people that he has beef with. A few days before his party I get an invite for a pajama party from E. E is fairly popular, really well liked and extremely sweet, and he throws parties often. He and his roomies are graduating that weekend, so of course people will want to go. It's the same day as P's party, so I KNEW there was no way in hell people would go to P's over E's. So me being nice, I let P know and tell him "I think you should resched to next week!" I get no acknowledgment from P, he just texts back something irrelevant. Ignored warning. Okay!

Day of the party comes. I go out with some friends, we're having dinner before E's party, and my friend 'S' (who was also in that class with me and P and got similar "we should go out" sentiments from him) and I are talking about P's party. It's revealed that the neighbors he wanted to "annoy" with his party are actually 2 girls that also go to our college, are friends of mine and ONE of them is the ex of one of E's roommates (call her D). This becomes very important later LOL.

In that moment, I get a call thru IG from P. And this mf tells me "Everybody is canceling on me, no one is coming to my party, I'm so pissed cause i already bought snacks, can you give me the address to E's party cause I wanna crash it." So I tell him "i tried to warn you!" but of course i'm thinking there's no harm in having him come to E's party! Let me be nice! So, I give him the deets.

I arrive, he's already there and immediately he's chatting me up, I don't even have a drink yet. He's talking about his party flop, how only 3 people came and left, and tells me that one of his best friends flaked on his party because "she went to have dinner with her bf's parents" and said this with SUCH disdain and an eyeroll as if..prioritizing your partner's parents over a house party is a shitty thing to do? Hm. The party goes on, I'm mingling with different people, and multiple times he comes to find me. At one point I'm having a one on one, and he comes up and says "there you are." But it gets to a point where anywhere that he shows up...everyone dissipates and goes into another room, and I'm doing the same. A girl I met says to me "he kept talking about how rich his parents are and it made me uncomfortable so i left". E's roommates are whispering to each other that he's making people uncomfortable and they're not sure what to do.

Party comes to an end, we go home, P posts on his IG about how the whole ordeal fucked with his mental health and he's gonna have a breakdown. I send him a lil check-in message, see if he's okay. Then I get a DM from one of E's roommates. He says it was good to see me, and he's not sure if I'm the one of invited P but just as a heads up, he made people uncomfortable and in the past he was very close with D (this roommates ex gf/P's neighbor) until he really freaked her out. He didn't give details as to what freaked her out. But continued on just to say that P was not invited in the future, and to watch out for my sake as well. I of course apologized, explain about his party being the same day and i wanted to be nice, and he was understanding, everything was cool. But after that night and how weird P had been, I distanced myself more than I already had (P messaged me constantly and I'd rarely answer even from the start)

Time passes, P constantly spams me with tiktoks and messages, i never reply. At some point he asks "is something wrong, you haven't been replying!" I still don't answer. At 1am, I get a message from S saying "P is asking me why you won't answer him back". Mind you, S and I aren't SUPER close, we're not constantly talking back and forth either. So both of us are extremely weirded out at the fact P is trying to find out through her why I'm not answering. So she and I talk about how weird he's been, and this is where the actual floodgates of "what the fuck" come out.

So the day after E's party, P's neighbors had a party as well (D and her roommate). P was not invited, but knew that S was going so he tried to convince her to get him into the party since she's friends with the hosts. S already knew about the weirdness and his history with those girls, so she didn't get him into the party. At fucking 2am, they're out on the balcony and look down to see P stalking outside the building. Weird enough to do this once...but apparently he has done this before. Multiple times. The reason he wanted to "annoy his neighbors" with a party is because they never invite him to theirs, so he wanted to throw one and not invite them back. Now why did P and his neighbors have a falling out to begin with? What freaked D out so badly? Now I'm taking this with the hugest grain of salt. I still don't fully believe this myself, but never put it past a white man. APPARENTLY...D and her roommate both either saw or knew of P killing small animals for entertainment purposes. Again, HUGE grain of salt, that's some real life serial killer shit that baffles me, I really can't just go ahead and say it's fact. But fuck me, if that wasn't enough to really solidify the weirdness that is this fucking kid.

So anyway! Time passes, P continues to spam me with messages, and continues to ask S why I don't answer. S rarely answers him as well. It's been weeks at this point. I post about my friend passing away, he gives condolences, I hit "Like" on the messages because the sentiments were sweet, but didn't actually write back. S sends me a screenshot of P saying "Sam won't answer back and we were supposed to go party. Ugh and now that her friend died, she's definitely not going to be in the mood to." are you fucking kidding me.

Brings us to last night. I go out to a house party annnnd in walks P. The moment he sees me, he cocks his head and his expression is....almost like "Oh. Well look who's here" a little upset, a little like he's finally caught me. I fucking pound my drink, and I am nice! Very nice, like I always fucking am, I chat with him like nothing ever happened and everything is normal. I'm able to break away throughout the party, but he continuously finds me. At one point I'm outside talking to 2 friends, he comes out, and 30 seconds later, my friends go inside. P says "It seems people always vanish when I show up, I swear I'm cursed". Most of the party goes smooth, he made a few comments hinting at me dodging him, saying "Aren't we still gonna go party? We should go out for pride" and I'm like yeah yeah, of course we should, uh huh, I'm just soooo busy with work yanno and traveling! End of the night, he's leaving and says to me "You know we should really stay in contact. Like REALLY stay in contact cause uh...ya kinda ghosted me!" And I say yeah sorry you know just been busy and he says "Yeah but, even at the end of last semester you....kinda ghosted me." and his tone is not sad, it's not hurt. He's bitter, accusatory, like i'm in the wrong. Like I did something bad, something malicious. Edit: in this moment he also said "oh are you faster with texting? Maybe give me your number?" and I said "AHA i actually think IG is faster i don't really text!" bc no way in fucking hell is he getting my phone number.

This whole time, I never had a say in growing a friendship with this guy, there was never an opportunity for some organic growth. It was like he just decided "you" and made me his friend with all the obligations that come with that. What started as just annoying overbearing clinginess now feels kinda dangerous. Like what happens when I continue to not answer and I see him at another party? I don't want to avoid my friend's gatherings on the chance that he might be there. I don't want to have to hide that I'm going out and didn't invite him. I don't want to be part of this forced 'friendship' that's he's decided I need to be a part of. And I also don't want to hurt his feelings by telling him I do not want to be in contact. Even if I told him, he'd find a way to make me the villain, I'd be in the 'wrong' in his eyes, just like every other person he's complained to me about. Where he stated things as if he was the victim when the whole time I'm thinking the other person was in the right.

So anyway, this has been ongoing for ~2 months and I never expecting things to escalate the way they have. I don't know WHY he is so hung up on me in particular, but I just want to shake him off clean.

#personal #mine #i am always in situations #help #school stuff #anti men #dykeposting

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kyaruun · 2 years ago

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Since when did the graphics suck they're literally so cute

This one is literally embedded in my mind like I ASSOCIATE this with you

It isssss literally so cute but your other graphics are also so cute wthhhhhhh

Buuut I can do some tutorials on things you wanna know that I can do? I've been wanting to make a tutorial for a while now actually

. Me too like I don't have a schedule and while I write on a "rotation", I spend so muxh time and energy on irl things that I don't get much time to write. I literally haven't gotten through my reqs from last August. Rip my 800 event from. Before then??? Cannot even keep track it's been like a year

My follow count is only that high bcs I wrote for haikyuu (in 2020 its peak) then I joined the genshin bus kinda early (?) Which is still huge and I wrote misc fics for whatever else, and it was also my edit blog??? And now I'm here shitposting so I got followers from like lots of places

The way yours is in the 700s and a loooot older than mine pls I'm also in the 700s in nazukisser.... insanity

Well personally i love your leo so I think that it should happen because you deserve it. And writing a series.... yes.... smaus are so fun I have domicile on nazukisser for reference if you want it and my fav smau ever is club stupid by tumblr user kodzuvii highly recommend I just become a redhead kita's cousin and tendou's best friend number 1 miracle girl and down bad for suna rintarou whenever I read it.

WAAAA I can't wait to see your revamp !!! Thank you.. I always try to have some sort of match (character/color/style) all throughout!! If you need help/opinions/etc lmk!!!

Right like what happened . We were thriving. Then we boomed for a second and died. Like I see the nazuna x reader tag and ME AND KAZE ARE THE ONLY ONES like bruh? And my fics have been flopping tho it seems everyone's have been flopping too

Yeah the only thing keeping me tied down here is the server..... it's like my lifetime... come back we miss you

I MISS NURI TOO... bee has arknights now....I miss.... and runanananna....... ate swanee's writing.... SHE DOES THAT TO US TOO not that I hate it but she drops like a couple of lines in snippets and dips and I'm like *SCREEEECHES*

If you come back to my server we welcome you back we miss you :(((

I can only be grateful that some of us are left tho.... i7 is so dead and e7 LMFAO??? I was legit the only one it was so darned sad

THAT'S THE ONLY ONE I LIKE!! i love watching vids about journaling and that kind of thing and they make the cutest decorated polaroids so i wanted to do something like that but very cutesy themed,, spring made me think of picnics so gingham <3 i actually played around with a few similar concepts like polaroid + random stickers and i planned to make banners with that but uuuu there are so many characters,, can't keep my focus for too long. i think they came out cute but it's probably too late to use them </3

i always wonder about what do people use to edit their pics because i was born a ps girlie and i still don't know how to use ps properly oops making your themes look nice and cohesive,, those cute pinned etc etc people who edit icons and make them look super aesthetic

i think i never tried to promote my blog because followers don't feel like an integral part of the process for me. i just write what comes to mind and share it with the world: if people like it i'm absolutely delighted and if they don't well,, at the end of the day most of my writing has been fun for me ^^ like come on i've written things that are silly and self indulgent and they worked fine and i'm here like. wow

i have considered writing for more series but the thing is the media i like has a fandom of like. 2.5 people on the good days. so it really doesn't make too much sense to even try that <.< genshin fandom scares tf out of me so i'll keep my extra fluffy albedo thoughts to myself. the bazillion "childe being a dumbass in love" posts. kazuha writing poetry. oops. getting flashbacks to the time i almost made a hypmic blog but i stopped myself at the last second out of embarrassment

i'm torn on whether a) people just aren't interested in that kind of content anymore (no way) or b) people DO read our stuff, they simply don't interact. not even a like. the migration of people from other social media into tumblr,, like sorry but i've been here since 2016? and it gets worst for writers every day </3

i have an immense amount of cute enstars thoughts a day and i feel like if i can't share them i will combust (my best friend has to deal with me every day),, it's mostly cute romantic stuff with my favs and my ocs, for obv reasons so i'm like uuuu should i even tell this to someone it's just embarrassing. like only other enstarries could understand why i keep rotating this bunch of dorks around my brain and getting the biggest serotonin boost out of it ueeee

i kind of miss being in a server with other people. i've been feeling very lonely lately due to uni so i think that'd be good for my mental health but at the same time,, i don't want to go back to talking once in a blue moon you know? ooo to be an anxious mess every day of your life.... like i get nervous so easily and i know i'll make someone uncomfortable so i simply keep quiet or i don't know how to join conversations because my social skills are -1. i'm a bit of a mess TT

as a bonus for reading all of this, wips of some of the banners/wallpapers? i was working on the last time. rei was meant to be a light pink/purple ish kind of shade but i don't mind how these came out either ^^ i need to print the cgs as polaroids again

#i feel like we understand each other pretty well <3 #aaa the pains of fandom really

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allthingskakashi · 3 years ago

Text

• Forelsket •

[ Kakashi x Reader]

Fluff Prompt: “I like the way your hands fit in mine”

Tags : Fluff, Hokage Kakashi, Potter/Artist! Reader

Words : 1.4k

A/n : Okay soooo here it is, my first fanfic after over a year, i am so nervous about this and hate it vehemently to be perfectly honest, but it has been so long and i really wanted to post something. I’ve been struggling with writing a lot lately and am finding it super difficult to finish anything i am starting because nothing seems to be working out the way i wish it would but anyhoo...i managed to finish this so....here it goes. Any criticism is completely welcome, i’m very very rusty so i am fully prepared for this to flop. The anon who had requested it probably is not even here anymore, and i am so sorry it took me a year to finally get to writing this lmfao. Okay that’s it. Hope it doesn’t disappoint too much. Thank you so much for reading!! ily <3

Kakashi had never seen so many pots in his life.

Nor had he ever seen you, in your faded blue overalls, hair stuck to your face and strewn about in every direction, with mud in places of your body mud should never be.

His gaze danced along the ceiling-high shelves, with queues of vases, pots, and bowls of varying shapes and colour stacked in neat rows. The amusement in his half lidded eyes wasn’t concealed.

“So this is what you do”, he stated, his voice taking the tone of a little boy seeing a rainbow for the first time.

“This is what I do”, you repeated. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

When you’d mentioned to Kakashi, the Rokudaime, that he could stop by at your studio sometime to watch you at work—which, despite your multiple protests, he seemed really insistent on doing, you hadn’t thought that he’d turn up at your door, apron in hand, at 11 a.m. on a Wednesday morning.

Especially after that night.

And yet, here he was.

“Well...” Kakashi muttered sheepishly, “I had some time to kill.”

“And....what’s the apron for?”

“I thought I could help you”, he stated, as if him being in your studio in the middle of the day, after that night , offering to assist you in pottery—something you were pretty sure the Copy Ninja had never done before, was the most natural thing in the world.

“Help me...you”, you registered his words, raising an eyebrow at his lean, tall figure that was watching you with a kind of confidence you could not even hope to feign.

“Help you, me, yes“, Kakashi replied with the same nonchalance with which he’d walked in.

You exhaled.

“Right...Okay.”

Rubbing your hands on the pockets of your overall, you watched Kakashi slip the apron in over his head. It had the Konoha Medical Department’s emblem embroidered on the breast pocket—he must have borrowed it from the Laboratory.

You wanted to laugh.

He seemed to have put a fair bit of thought into this.

And well, it was not like you hadn’t been driving yourself crazy for the past few days either...

That night had been like any other, with you and Kakashi walking back to your respective homes, engaged in amiable chatter.

It had rained copious amounts the day before in Konoha, and every step of the cemented road was littered in large puddles of water.

There had been a particularly large one at the lane right across from yours, and Kakashi had taken your hand in his—a completely ordinary gesture for a man of his heart, to help you cross—a gesture that he’d have made for any layperson, be it a child or the elderly, friend or stranger in passing. You knew that.

And yet, despite the normalcy of the gesture, despite the sheer predictability of it...you’d found yourself buckling at the knees at his touch, the sensation of Kakashi’s hand gently, but firmly gripping yours transcending beyond just your palms.

You couldn’t help but marvel at how natural it felt for your hand to be in his, how completely, devastatingly painful it felt to realise that it would only last mere seconds.

You’d wished there would be more puddles, wished you’d fall into one if that is what it took, and that’s when it happened. The words rolling off your tongue before you had any way of halting them. “I like the way your hands fit in mine”.

The words had been clear, despite how much you wished they had carried even a hint of ambivalence in them. But they were clear, and so was the intent of their speaker.

Of course, Kakashi had masterfully shrouded his surprise, and of course, you’d changed your verses immediately, shifting the conversation to the following day’s forecast before hastening your pace with incoherent mumbles of being late for something, but no amount of escaping, digressing, talking about the weather and pretending like you had said something else could alter that event.

The words were out there. You’d heard it with your own two ears.

What followed the events of that day was of course, complete and unadulterated avoidance. There was no way you could show face before him anymore, but with him being the Hokage, that posed a few complications. He was everywhere.

And so you’d started coming in for work at the crack of dawn to avoid having to work late, you’d gone to markets miles away from your neighbourhood to buy a packet of ramen, you’d taken dingy alleys and unlit lanes to travel home—all to avoid coming face to face with Kakashi.

And you’d succeeded.

Until today.

Because here he stood now, in your small studio, the Rokudaime—in all his glory, wearing the Konoha Medical Department’s apron that he borrowed so he could come help you in the middle of the day on a Wednesday—with a glint of eagerness in his eyes that made your stomach flip within your belly.

“Well?”, Kakashi’s voice tugged at you come out of your stupor. “What should I do?”

You looked around yourself, wrecking your mind to come up with something you could ask him to do that would suit his stature, and his dexterity—or lack thereof, in this regard.

“Um...” you fumbled, watching him eye the abandoned mould on the wheel in front of you which you’d been working on since morning. “I guess you could...help me make this vase for a wedding order I received yesterday”, you said, eyes avoiding his.

He beamed at the invitation.

“As you say”, he replied with a....(was a tease in his tone?)...as he took his place on a stool behind the pottery wheel.

The absurdity of the scene in front of you made you fall short of words.

Kakashi’s expectant eyes waited.

You reached for another stool, placing it opposite Kakashi before sitting down facing him, already feeling his eyes on you.

“Okay so um...you just...place your hands on the mould, and do this...” you explained, moving your hands in sync with the wheel as you shaped the clay into curves and bulges, building it into the form of an amphora.

Kakashi’s dark eyes stared in awe, watching in marvel as you let the familiar feel of clay take your mind away from the unfamiliarity—but not adversely so, of Kakashi being so close to your, watching you, your feet almost touching.

“Can I try?”, his voice broke through your concentration.

You let the wheel come to a slowly dwindling spin, before retracting your hands from the piece. Kakashi brought his forward, pressing his palms onto each side of the vase, touching it as if it were the wings of a butterfly.

He looked up at you for reassurance. “Yes, that’s it”, you mumbled, watching Kakashi’s masterful hands moulding your piece with the same diligence and skillfulness of a seasoned potter.

“Wait, hold on” you scrambled, leaning ahead to wrap your hands on his as he fumbled to bring the mould to a narrow concave at the top, his hands faltering, but gaze as steady as ever.

It took a few seconds for you to come to the realisation that your hands were on Kakashi’s, the mud from your palms staining the back of his hands in slimy brown goo.

But by the way that his eyes softened on yours...he didn’t seem to mind.

You continued in silence, the soft whining sound of the wheel the only noise between you, keeping you apart and yet somehow binding you together.

The vase was beginning to take form, growing from between Kakashi’s hands...and yours. The outcome was turning out impeccable, not a curve out of proportion, not an inch of jagged surface.

You willed yourself into meeting his gaze.

A crease made its way onto the smooth black stretch of his mask.

“What?”, you asked, your voice soft, expectant. Like you wished he would say something, grant legitimacy to this moment, let you know that his lingering gazes were not a mirage of your own creation.

“I like the way your hands fit in mine.”

Something red and burning crept up your neck.

The vase was done.

You’d always had a custom of naming your creations. Attributing each piece with a name granted them a kind of sentiment that you hoped to invoke in all those who appreciated and purchased your work.

Sometimes it was difficult, assigning a name that befits a piece. But this one...you knew what this one would be. You’d learnt the word in a book.

Forelsket / Norwegian (n.)

The euphoric experience of falling in love for the first time.

Your eyes met Kakashi’s, gleeful smile tugging at the corners of your lips, before erupting into a wide, beaming, infectious grin.

#kakashi #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #kakashi headcanons #kakashi headcanon #kakashi prompts #naruto #kakashi x you #kakashi x reader fanfic #kakashi x reader fanfiction #kakashi x reader fluff #kakashi fluff #naruto x reader #naruto fanfiction #kakashi hatake fanfiction #Naruto fanfic

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leossmoonn · 3 years ago

Text

Your Song [Jess Mariano]

masterlist

pairing - jess mariano x fem!reader

type - fluff

note - thank you everyone who commented under this post and @arkofblake for helping w this idea <3.

summary - you learn that jess is musically inclined. and not only that, he wrote a song for you

warnings / includes - jess teaching you how to play guitar (very attractive lol), jess getting mad and throwing a tantrum, mild language, kissing, smoking, light banter, lots of fluff and cuddling

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“will you stop that? you’re gonna die before you see our kids turn 10.” you snatched the cigarette from jess’s mouth, tossing it outside his window.

“you could’ve at least put it out on the ashtray,” he muttered.

“then this place would’ve smelled even more rank,” you stated. you took the ashtray, emptying it out in the trashcan and tying up the trash bag. you put by the front door so you could take it out whenever you left.

“when did you become such a health advocate?” jess asked.

“ever since i realized how many cigs you smoke. i don’t want to see you in the hospital dying everyday, doing chemo and not being able to breathe on your own,” you frowned.

“i don’t think i’ll need a breathing tube,” jess snorted.

“you never know,” you sang. you flopped down beside him in his bed.

“i guess it’s good i got someone looking out for me,” jess sighed, turning his head to you.

you smiled, rolling on your side to face him. “what would you do without me?”

“probably doing cocaine and in an all boys school,” he snorted.

“well, at least you won’t be looking at other girls, then,” you hummed.

“the only girl i’m looking at is you, baby,” he said. “yeah, right,” you chortled.

“just because i’m looking at other girls doesn’t mean i’m looking. but with you, i’m lookin’.” his eyes raked down your body, his hand running up your leg and resting on the curve of your hip.

“what a charmer,” you giggled. “that’s me,” he winked.

“is luke downstairs?” you asked. “do you really need to ask that question?” jess raised his brows.

you rolled your eyes, slapping his chest softly. “sometimes he goes outside.”

“yeah, to lorelei’s.”

“he goes to the town meetings.”

“yeah, because lorelei drags him there.”

“i wish luke was as easy to manipulate as you,” you sighed.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed playfully.

you gave him a cheeky smile, leaning over and pecking his lips. you turned to get up, but jess’s grip on your waist stopped you.

“please let me go? i’m thirsty,” you asked. “i got all the hydration you need, baby,” he stated.

“uh-huh,” you snorted. “seriously I haven’t had water in like, hours.”

“and whose fault is that?”

“yours for only having soda up here,” you remarked. you got out of his grip, going over to the kitchen and pouring yourself a glass of tap water.

you leaned against the kitchen counter, watching jess as he trudged over to you. you looked him up and down, enjoying the fact that he was wearing those fitted shirts and low-hanging jeans you loved so much.

“what’re you lookin’ at?” he asked, bending down and opening the fridge.

“you,” you replied. “like what you see?” he smirked.

“oh, i love it,” you giggled. you set your cup down, beginning to walk over to him when you dodged, running over to the acoustic guitar that was leaning against the wall in a corner.

“do you play,” you held it up. “um, no. that’s luke’s,” jess lied.

“no offese to luke, but he has no musical capabilities. it’s yours, isn’t it?” you grinned.

jess rolled his eyes, “yeah. so what?”

“when did you get it? i’ve never seen it here before and i’ve been up here a million times.”

“it was packed away in the closet for a long time,” he explained.

“do you play a lot?” you took the guitar over to the bed.

“define “a lot”?”

“everyday or once a week? once a month?” you elaborated.

“a few times a week,” he answered. “ah,” you hummed. “can you play me something?”

“no,” he chuckled. “why not?” you frowned.

“i’m not very good,” he lied. “okay. whatever you say,” you snorted.

you sat down with the guitar, placing it on your leg. you began to play a few simple chords: C, G, D. jess was pleasantly surprised at your musical capabilities. he knew you played the flute in band class in middle school, but he didn’t know you knew how to play any string instruments.

“that sounds great. where’d you learn how to play?” he asked, sitting down next to you.

“when i did jazz band in middle school they had a guitar player. i would stay after hours and he taught me a little,” you explained.

“he?” jess raised his brows. “there was nothing between us. i was never interested dating in middle school,” you assured him.

“i see,” jess nodded.

you stopped playing, setting the guitar down in your lap and and smiling sheepishly. “i only know how to play those three chords.”

“do you want to know how to play more?” jess asked.

“yeah, sure,” you nodded.

he sat behind you, sitting the guitar in your lap.

“this chord is F-major. you’re going to bar the first fret with your first finger and but your third finger on the G string on the second fret, then but your fourth and pinky finger on D and A. make sure to press down with your first finger hard, otherwise no sound will come out when you strum,” he directed.

he moved your fingers to their position, adjusting them as he needed. his hot breath fanned over your neck as he spoke, causing goosebumps to arise on your skin. your heart couldn’t help but race.

“go ahead and strum,” he said.

you moved your hand over the strings at the body of the guitar. every note but the low E sounded.

“try to keep the tip of your fingers clamped over,” he said.

you nodded, trying again, this time getting all the strings to play.

“look at you! you’re a natural,” he grinned.

you smiled, craning your head to face him. you pressed your lips to his. your eyes fluttered close and you lifted one hand off of the guitar to cup his cheek.

his hand rested on the upper-part of your thigh, his fingers crawling up.

“mm, teach me more?” you asked as you pulled away.

“why don’t we ditch the guitar and makeout?”

you laughed, “we’ve kissed too much.”

“no such thing,” he shook his head. “teach me more, please,” you pouted.

“fine. you know i can’t resist that face,” he put his hand on your chin, pulling you in for a peck.

you smiled into the kiss, pulling away and returning your attention to playing guitar.

he taught you a few more major chords and the easier minor chords that you didn’t need to bar. your fingers were getting tired, so you set the guitar down, getting up and going to place the guitar back where you found it. you saw a little black notebook on the floor where the guitar was. you picked it up, opening it.

you saw music notations written inside. there were pages and pages of untitled songs. towards the back of the notebook you saw the title “y/n’s song”. there were no words, but there were at least three pages of music written.

“babe, what’re you do—”

jess panicked as he saw you reading his notebook. he ran over and snatched it out of your hands, shutting it and putting it in the back pocket of his jeans.

“you wrote a song for me?” you gasped.

“don’t touch my shit,” he muttered, pushing past you and placing the guitar back in its spot with the notebook hidden behind it.

“jess,” you frowned, crossing your arms over your chest.

“you know not to go through my stuff. why did you? you didn’t even care to ask me what is was before you opened it,” he argued.

you didn’t make the effort to get worked up over him yelling. you had been through lots of fights with him, and grew used to letting him scream and yell and fight until he calmed down so you two could work it out like adults. he was usually the one starting the fights — always impatient and moody. this time was no exception.

“if i wanted you to see it, i would’ve showed you already. you are so nosy. i told you from the start of our relationship that i’m a private person. why can’t you respect that?” he asked.

“are you done?” you hummed.

he looked to you, sighing in defeat. “i just don’t like it when people are in my business.”

“i know. i’m sorry for not asking you if i could look at it, but i have a feeling you wouldn’t have cared if the last few pages weren’t in there,” you stated.

“yeah,” he admitted.

you went over to the corner, grabbing the notebook and flipping to your song. you handed it to him, a hopeful smile on your face.

“play it for me?”

“it’s not done and it sounds terrible.”

“you and i both know those are lies. c’mon, just play the first page for me at least,” you begged.

jess grumbled nonsense to himself as he snatched the book from your hands, grabbing his guitar and walking over to the bed again.

“you owe me one,” he said.

“i will do all your laundry, dishes, cook for you, and buy you a new book for your birthday,” you nodded.

jess smiled, “just the book will suffice.”

“noted. now play!” you urged. you sat down in jess’s beanbag across from him.

“alright, alright. just… don’t look at me, okay?” he asked.

you nodded, looking down at your lap. you tried your hardest not to look up. your eyes slipped once, causing jess to yell.

“i said don’t look!”

“start playing then!” you exclaimed.

he sighed, looking at the pages of music. he started to finger prick the strings, beautiful melody emitting. you smiled to yourself as you kept your head down. it was amazing.

the song started out in the higher range, then moving lower as he started to use only the low E and A. the rhythm changed to a slow tempo. it was almost sexy-sounding. he plucked a few of the higher notes, making beautiful-sounding harmonies. he returned to the original melody, playing it louder this type. if you could, you would name this part the chorus of the song.

eventually you looked up, eyes wide and admiring jess as he was in his own word. he read the notes fluidly, playing the next one with no hesitation. he went to flip the page, his eyes darting towards yours. he didn’t say anything, but you noticed the tips of his ears turning pink. you suppressed a laugh, instead smiling widely as he continued to play.

the same sultry melody played. you started to hum the tune softly and swaying to the beat. the melody then got soft and slow, the lighter strings taking their spotlight.

this song depicted how jess saw you and how your relationship had been for the last four month for him. the beginning notes started out as timid and soft, reflecting how he felt about about. he wasn’t sure if you wanted to be in a relationship and he definitely wasn’t sure if it was going to work out. you two were so different, he was afraid he would drive you away with his impatience and sarcasm, but honestly, it just made you love him more.

the sexy sounding parts of the song showcased how much he loved you and how he viewed you. you made him calm, happy, and horny, which were the three best emotion he thought he could ever feel. you were a gorgeous creature — he didn’t understand how he got you. you were funny and smart, always laughing and keeping things light for him. your touch made his stomach churn, your voice was music to his ears, and the way you looked at him made his heart grow ten times bigger in his chest.

the louder section was like the beginning, but this time more confident. this was the part where he knew he loved you and that he had you, for however long you would let him.

the higher-sounding part after the second time the sultry played symbolized the ray of light you were in his dark, depressing life. it was cliché, but true. he was never a happy person, to begin with, but being with you changed him. despite him always throwing tantrums and being difficult still, he and all his family and friends around him could sense he was happier with you, especially when you were in the room.

the song ended with full-on diamonds. he looked to you as he was finished, smiling shyly as he laid the guitar down against the bed.

“it’s not finished yet, but —”

“it was beautiful, jessie,” you gushed. you got up from your seat, sitting on the bed across from him. “i loved it. you’re so talented.”

“really?” he asked.

“yep,” you nodded with full confidence. “no has ever written a song about me before.”

“i bet they have, they’ve just never showed you.”

you smiled, placing your hand on his jawline and leaning in to kiss him. you kissed him slowly, rubbing your thumb up and down his cheekbone lovingly.

you pulled away just as the kiss was about to heat up. you put your forehead on his, looking him in the eyes.

“play it again for me?”

————

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#jess mariano fluff #jess mariano #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x reader fluff #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano imagine fluff #jess mariano fluff imagine #gilmore girls

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palbabor-writes · 4 years ago

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Hellooo queen I hope you had/will have a great day. This is actually my first time requesting something so I’m very sorry if I do something wrong 🥺🥺... can you maybe write some fluff (OR NSFW I DONT MIND... just love him way too much damn) stuff for dabi?? I don't know if you only take requests with exact instructions or if this request is enough... if you need something more precise i will try to come up with something! Thank you very much!!

Hello, love! You did it perfectly & thank you so much for asking! I can be a bit of a lurker on things, so I totally get how much courage it takes to do one of these.

You did amazing & I love, love this question. I love it so much that I went ahead and took an old outline of mine & made it into a full blown fic for you!

Now, in honor of all the craziness swirling around our favorite flame user, Imma post it a little earlier then I’d planned! So, thank you for the ask & I hope to talk to you again ( ＾◡＾)っ ♡

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7496

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW 18+ only, mentions of blood and gore, heat play, dick piercings, adult language and freaking Dabi. That alone should warn you.

Thermós θερμός ther·mos adjective m (feminine θερμή, neuter θερμόν); warm, hot, boiling, glowing

It’s sweltering; the fervor of summer sticky, humid, and oppressive. Japan is in the throes of August, and this heatwave is not letting up. Even at night, it’s impossible for Dabi to get comfortable. He’s been lying, half naked, draped across his narrow twin mattress for the last few hours, sweating.

His quirk isn’t helping matters.

He’s been trying to recruit new members. Every day, he sets out, pounding the pavement, sifting through the bits and pieces of trash that he runs into. It’s a pity. If those scrubs weren’t so fucking pathetic, he might not be in this predicament. But they are, and now he’s having to suffer the consequences of his temper.

His phone gleams on his dilapidated side table, a text message chiming across the screen as it flashes a speck of brightness into the darkened room. Groaning, he leans over and snatches it up, his hands slick as he clutches the encased plastic.

It’s Toga.

As a rule, he tries to avoid her. He hates her chatter. It’s always some unending nonsense about those UA kids, about Stain, or about fucking blood. It’s always blood with her. Give her five minutes, and she’ll work it into her conversation somehow, even if it’s just blurting it out, a blush staining her cheeks.

Fucking freak.

[ Blondie: 12:34 am ]

- found smth 4 u. (Y/N) has a place. Keeps it @ like 60 degrees… lol

Well, disgusting as Toga is, she has her uses; he thinks as he reads her text.

He’d asked her, a few days before, if she knew a place where he could crash. Somewhere that had some goddamn air conditioning. The hideout’s unit is on the fritz again, not that it had ever worked all that well.

Hmm, well this is something, at least.

Dabi’s isn’t sure what to think about Toga’s little ‘find’. You were a newer recruit, someone that Compress had brought in.

He hadn’t paid much attention to you. You didn’t stay at the base and were only around if there was a specific mission, or a task, that Shigaraki set for you. He isn’t even sure what your quirk is. You seemed easy-going, neutral, but he doubted you’d extend that easy-going demeanor to him camping out at your place for the A/C.

Chucking his phone back on the side table, Dabi flops to his side and tries to drift off, hoping his exhaustion will let him ignore the suffocating heat he’s drowning in.

Fuck.

He’d done it again. It was hard to resist the urge when these people spouted such vague fucking bullshit at him. No one, not fucking one of them, could live up to his cause. And if they couldn’t meet that standard? Well, they were better off as ash, melting into blackened pools as the asphalt greedily soaked their blood into its cracked depths.

There is a heat advisory today.

He’d heard the news as he scarfed down a quick breakfast at the hideout’s bar. He wouldn’t be out for that long, he reasoned. Besides, maybe today he’d find someone good.

Wishful thinking on his part.

His skin feels oppressive and his staples and piercings are scalding, the metal hissing and steaming as he tries to dampen his quirk. It��s harder to regulate his temperature on hot days. He shouldn’t be out here, he thinks, snarling as he pats out a few rogue flames that catch on his dark jacket. Even lifting his arm to perform that simple task makes him grunt, hissing out a mantra of curses.

Shit, fuck, goddamn it fucking all.

He looks bitterly up at the sun and debates his next move.

He could retreat to the bar, but that doesn’t solve his problem. No, the viscous heat that radiated along those upper floors would just make his skin feel worse. Hell, it might even result in more mottling, his burns stretching farther along his arms and chest. He’s not going back to the bar.

Where the fuck even is he?

He peers down the alley toward the street. It’s not too busy; just after noon, so most of the foot traffic from the morning has died down. He yanks his hood up, ignoring the ache of his legs as he stalks toward the street corner.

Carefully, he pokes out, his eyes tracing over the crosswalk, looking for the street signs. Ah. He’s close to that address, your address, that Toga sent him.

Slipping his hands into his pockets, he saunters along the pavement, careful to keep his head down.

You were out of town.

He’d picked up that tidbit from Compress this morning. The masked man had been lamenting that you might be away for a few days, possibly weeks. Something about being on a fact finding task for that shadowy voice that talked with Shigaraki from his tv.

He didn’t care, still doesn’t. All he knows is that you supposedly keep your place cold, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

You’ve got a nice apartment.

It’s decorated in pleasing whites, yellows, reds and greens, with clean lines and modern touches. It’s kinda like you, he considers as he shrugs his coat off and breathes in that amazing waft of cold A/C. You’ve been useful to have in the League; efficient and no nonsense about the missions you're given and you can fit in with the outside world. You’d give even Toga a run for her money when it comes to espionage, he’s heard others say about you.

Dabi tosses a distasteful glare at your narrow couch and pads toward your bedroom, shouldering the door open and stepping into the dark sanctuary.

Your bed looks nice. It’s a good size too.

Lifting his boots from his feet and stripping down to his boxers, he presses into your clean sheets; shivering as the chilly air hits his overheated skin, cooling and dampening that oppressive sense of heat. He’s out in seconds, his body relaxing, slackening as he falls into the void of his dreams.

Yeah, now that he’s had this, there’s no way he’s staying at that hideout of the League’s unless he has to.

You’re gone for the better part of a week.

He’s started asking Compress about you. At first, the older man had given him an impassive stare. Since when did Dabi even know your name?

He’s asking because he needs to talk with you about… uh… supplies?

This, apparently, is the correct thing to say, because Compress nods his head sagely and elaborates on your timetable. You’re collecting things for Kurogiri and you’ll be gone for another few days.

Good, Dabi thinks, slinking into your apartment again, lowering the window behind him. He’s careful to leave things as he found them, his entryway into your place included. You don’t need to know about this.

What the fuck would he even say to you?

Hey, uh, it’s fucking hot at the hideout, and since you’ve got a working A/C unit and like 3 fans, he’s been sleeping over at yours. No big deal, right?

Even after you return, he keeps sneaking in.

He’s gotten your schedule memorized, and he’s heedful of the hours you keep. You’re a little more regular than the others in the League. You actually sleep at night; unlike the rest. The others are often out at God knows what hour, combing for recruits and leads, but not you.

So, Dabi shifts into full night owl mode. He crashes at your place in the midmorning, after you leave for the day, trying to ignore the perfume that comes from your sheets.

You’ve got a nice smell.

It’s oddly comforting, and he hates when he accidentally burrows into your pillows; nostrils flared, inhaling that aroma that’s all you. While he’s never talked with you before this, he goes out of his way to ignore you now.

What he’s doing is fucking weird, and lines are blurring. The other week he’d bumped into you coming out of the bar and he’d almost snatched you to him.

You must have just showered, because that fucking scent was radiating off your skin. It’s nothing too, eh, feminine? No, it’s more like… oranges and sandalwood. It’s a heady blend of rich balsamic and citrus, and he can’t get it out of his head.

August has faded into September, and he’s still sleeping over at yours.

He can’t help it. It’s not his fault your bed is so downy and, fuck, cool. It’s like the sheets don’t absorb his warmth. No, they’re always cold and they feel so fucking good against his staples and burned skin.

It’s midmorning, closer to noon, and he’s dozing, his eyes heavy and drooping. He’s exhausted, so bone tired, that he doesn’t hear your door opening. No, he doesn’t even notice you until he hears your voice.

“Um, would you like to tell me why you’re in my bed?”

He’s on his feet in a flash, a slow flicking of blue flames tracing along his fingers. You’re framed in your doorway, eyes wide, stepping away from his aggressive stance.

“Woah, woah,” you begin, lifting your hands in supplication. “Let’s just… take a minute and talk. I’m not-”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he snaps, his cerulean eyes narrowing, but he dampens his fire, a long curling of smoke framing his face.

“Uh, I think you got that backward there, bud. You’re not supposed to be here, I live here,” you scoff, one hand propping on your hip, head tilted exaggeratedly.

Dabi is about to spit something else out when you stride into your bedroom, tugging your jacket off and sauntering over to a tall dresser. He snaps his mouth closed and watches you. He’s not sure how he’s going to talk his way out of this, and he’s grateful for the reprieve. But, he knows an onslaught of anger or, fuck, preserve him, a lecture is incoming. Worst case, he thinks, observing you from his peripheral as you tug out a long shirt and some shorts, you’ll just kick him out and that will be that.

You glance at him again, your eyes lingering over his exposed chest and legs, and he can’t help the scowl that breaks over his face. He’s not embarrassed, he’s just, well, he’s not sure how to classify that stare. Most people recoil or toss him a glance of pity, their brows wrinkled with worry and distaste. But you? You arched an eyebrow and smiled.

Fucking weirdo.

Pausing in your doorway, you bite your lip into your mouth and carefully speak your next statement, voice smooth. “Look, while I’d rather you, oh, I don’t know, asked me about staying here. I’m not in the mood to argue with you, and I’ve got a long journey ahead of me tonight.” You take a deep inhale and toss him another smile.

“Just… just lay back down and get some rest. I promise I won’t molest you,” you tease, and he snaps his head up at that, his chin jutting in agitation.

You laugh at his sour face and he feels wrong-footed; lost. What the fuck? Who says shit like that? Who is in their right mind is just, oh, no worries man, promise I won’t grab your dick?

What’s wrong with you?

“I’m going to change and then I’m going to go to sleep. You can go, or you can stay, I really don’t care. All I know is that I’m not going to sleep on the couch when I’m in my apartment.” You retort, that grin still lifting your lips as you step away, the wall shielding you from his view.

Dabi remains where he is; standing in your bedroom, clad in his boxers, his hands clenched into fists by his side. Somehow this is worse than you throwing him out.

You return a few minutes later and he can’t get a good look at you. You slink past him and are under your covers in an instant. Not that he’s trying to give you a once over, he snarls to himself, shaking his inky head.

You nestle into the comforter and turn to your side, leaving him plenty of room on the opposite end of the bed. He blinks at you, a deep welling of uncertainty nestling in his stomach.

You’re quiet for a long moment, your eyes closing and shoulders relaxing, acting like there’s not a wanted, deadly villain in your bedroom, paces from your side. Then, you twist, giving him a quick scan, your eyes lingering over his.

“Either lay down or get out, Dabi. I’m not going to be able to sleep with you glaring at me like that. You look like some kinda ghost.”

Your declaration provokes a huffing, agitated reaction out of him. If there’s one thing Dabi hates, it’s being told what to do.

He slings himself beside you, splaying out, his body laying on top of the sheets. You chuckle, your head peeking at him over your shoulder. He ignores you and tries to close his eyes.

It feels strange, resting next to you like this. It’s… intimate, and he’s not sure if he hates or likes the sensation. He chances a glance at you, but you’ve already turned back to your side, your shoulders rising and lowering rhythmically. He shakes his head at your blasé reaction. How can you just, fuck, sleep?

He can’t get comfortable and his skin feels heavy again. It’s not heat this time. No, now something else is making everything feel too close, too warm.

He dampens his thoughts, mind frantically focusing on anything but you. As the sun slips behind the buildings across the street, his eyes lower and he fitfully sleeps, your rich smell filling his senses.

He’d left you in the night; tucking his clothes back on and easing out of your window.

True to your word, you’d relegated yourself to your side of the bed, hardly tossing or turning as you slept. As he paced back to the hideout, he wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into. He just hoped you’d keep your mouth shut. He didn’t want the others knowing about this, it felt, well it’s not like him. Abrasive- fucking spewing anger and vitriol? Yeah, that was him. But this? This was too soft, too gentle. He hated it.

But that’s the problem with hate. It’s terribly close to that other emotion. They’re sisters, really. Usually love and hate exist on two sides, but they’re still the same coin, no matter how you toss them.

You don’t act any differently after that night.

You keep coming to the hideout, giving him a vague smile and greeting before continuing your day. He’s acting differently, though. He can’t help but watch you, suddenly fascinated with how you move. He tries his best to shake himself from his musings, but sometimes he can’t help it.

If anything, he grumbles to himself, watching you chatter with Toga, you’re subtly going out of your way to place yourself in front of him. You were never around this much before. Well, maybe you were. He didn’t pay you any mind back then, but now? Now he can’t get enough of you.

He reacts when you laugh, or talk, his head turning, like a sunflower, toward the light you give off. Ugh. His only hopeful reprieve from this, from you, is the changing seasons. The days are getting shorter and that heatwave is finally, finally breaking.

It’s his one comfort, his saving grace.

Yeah, he should have fucking never tossed that wish into the universe.

No, another heatwave passes over the island and it’s the worst one yet. The daily temperatures have been hitting the low 100s and the nights aren’t much better. To make matters worse, the A/C at the hideout has given up the ghost and won’t turn on at all now.

Still, Dabi’s prepared. He’d bought a secondhand electric fan a few weeks ago, and he’s grateful for the tiny slice of paradise that it grants him. It’s not as nice as your apartment, or your bed, but it will do.

He’s laying across his mattress, sweat trickling down his back and shoulders, trying to ignore that ache in his burned skin. The fan is blowing across him and he’s about to crank it up a notch when it gives out an ominous sputter.

Dabi sits up, his eyes flashing. No, no, no, no. There’s no fucking way.

The fan’s blades are slowing, that sweet, cool air dampening, drifting into the low-lying humidity that surrounds him. He yanks the plug from the wall, his staples stinging as he stands. He stomps over to the outlet and plugs the fan back in, turning on his haunches to see if the blades will start that familiar whirl.

There’s fuck all happening.

Cursing, he kicks the shitty thing over and grabs his jacket, storming down the stairs and into the night.

You’re sleeping when he slinks under your window sill, sliding the glass shut and kicking his heavy boots to the floor. It’s that sound that wakes you, and you lift yourself up, your sheets falling from your chest, revealing a bare shoulder and low cut shirt to him. Unabashed by your appearance, you wipe a palm over your eyes, rubbing the sleep away and croaking out a greeting.

“When I said you could sleep over here, I didn’t mean you could barge in at all hours. And through my window? So, that’s why the hinge looks like that.”

Dabi considers you for a moment, his blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight. You tilt your head at him and suck your teeth.

“A, oh, I don’t know, sorry, would be nice?” you scold, that alluring smile lifting your lips. He follows the line of your mouth, his thoughts hazing over, focusing on some other, darker, daydream.

“Hello?” you call, waving your hand beside your face. “Earth to Dabi. What do you want?”

That question slips him out of his stupor and he lifts his eyes back to yours. “The A/C is out. Bought a fan a few weeks ago, but the fucking thing broke and I can’t… it’s hard to regulate my body temperature in this fucking heat. You keep this place like an icebox, so I started crashing here. Wasn’t planning on coming back, but after tonight-”

“Ok, ok,” you laugh, already scooting over and flinging the covers back. “Seeing as you didn’t try any funny business last time, I guess I’ll let it slide. Just, not to be rude, but shut up and let me sleep. I’ve gotta long day tomorrow and as enthralling as this conversation is…”

“Whatever,” Dabi mutters, slinging his damp shirt over his head and pacing over to the side of your bed. You blink up at him and shake your head, that tiny grin lingering. He presses into your familiar sheets, eyes already slipping closed as the fragrance of you pulls at him.

It’s early when he wakes, shuddering out of a nightmare, red flames and crying voices fading into the back of his mind.

Wincing, he raises a hand to his eyes and pulls at his face, relieved that it’s still cool air that meets him. As he rolls to his side, he feels something trace over his unscarred chest. The sensation makes him freeze, his eyes snapping open again, the cerulean searching, whisking over the dim figure beside him.

You’re still sleeping, but you’ve shifted, your body curled, facing him, and one of your hands is reaching toward him. Shit, he thinks, heart pounding in his ears. You’re so close.

He’s never been this close to you.

Your mouth is parted, delicate lips plush and soft in the early morning gloom. He tries to shift away, but your brow creases when he does, so he stills his movements, gritting his teeth and trying to ignore that flush that is building across his nose.

This is stupid. It’s just you. It’s not like the two of you have even done anything. Fuck, you barely talk with one another.

He burrows his head into his pillow and the shift of his body urges you closer to him, your hand opening and pressing to his skin. A sigh slips from your mouth as your fingers splay out, tapping against his warmth, and he nearly startles off the bed.

He looks down at your hand, aghast. He wants to move it off of him; can’t stand that you’re touching him, he tells himself, that you’re this close to him. But he can’t bring himself to move. Your hand is so delicate, so…

Unconscious, you turn from him, your fingers lifting on their own, curling back to you. Dabi almost moans as you slip from him, clamping down on the sudden, primal desire that races through him. He wants to grab you; to drag you back to him.

The hell? What the fuck is wrong with him?

Sucking his teeth, he turns over, facing away from the confusing neediness that’s lapping at his subconscious. He fluffs his pillow aggressively, trying to drown out all the raw emotions that are racing through his mind.

Forget it. Sleep.

When he wakes again, you’re gone.

The sheets where you slept are cold under his fingertips and he sits up, his arms resting on his knees. This whole situation is so fucking weird.

He lets himself ease into consciousness before standing and stretching out the leftover kinks in his muscles; stooping to grab his discarded shirt, pulling the fabric over his head and shaking his dark head against the sunlight. Just as he’s slipping his coat on, he notices the note that’s sitting on one of your bedroom chairs. It’s got his name on it, so he snatches it up, flipping open the folded paper.

“There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge, I won’t have time to eat it. Help yourself. There’s also a spare key on the coffee table. Take it and stop jimmying my window open.”

Scoffing, he crumples the paper up, tossing it over his shoulder as he paces into your kitchen.

It’s a fucking thing now.

He’s rarely at the hideout. Why bother? You don’t seem to care if he sleeps over. Hell, you make space for him. There’s gotta be something else to it; there has to be. What kinda idiot is so fucking accommodating? You act like you’re a fucking hostel or something. Well, a hostel where there’s only one bed.

You even bought another fan. You told him you don’t like to keep the overhead one on in the cooler weather, so he can use this one for his side of the bed.

Yeah, he’s got a goddamn side of the bed. It’s fucking insane.

The other members of the League either haven’t noticed what’s going on between the two of you, or they don’t care. It’s not like either of you talk about your sleeping habits. Fuck, you still never interact with him at the hideout, content to maintain that level of professionalism.

He’s not sure why it bothers him.

One night, the temperature drops into the low 40s and he’s stretched out on your blankets, enjoying the first real cold snap of the fall, when he sees you shivering. It’s not very noticeable, what with the way you’re turned away and bundled, but it makes him tilt his head toward you, watching.

Another pass of his fan has you repeating the quake and, without thinking, he pulls you closer, one long arm wrapping around your shoulder and tugging. Startled, you fight his hold, but he calms your movements with a squeeze, grumbling about your stoic reluctance.

What’s the big deal? It’s not like you haven’t brushed up against him before. Calm down.

You quiet after that and slowly, tentatively, you lean against his bare chest, your cheek cool against his heated skin. He tucks his chin over your head and tries to keep his breathing even. He doesn’t want you to hear, fuck, feel his heartbeat; it’s slamming its way out of his throat and he gulps when your fingers pull him closer.

“How are you so warm?” you ask, your breath floating across his pectorals.

“It’s my stupid quirk,” Dabi mutters, dipping his head down to his pillow, shifting you with him. You nod against his lean muscles and your fingertips trace cool designs into his skin, lingering over his burnt patches and staples. He sighs, unable to resist the low shiver that creeps up his spine.

This is nice; too fucking nice.

He can’t do without your touch now.

Remember that thing about love and hate being sisters? Well, that hate is simmering into something else for Dabi. It’s not love, he doesn’t know you well enough, but it’s certainly not hate anymore.

He likes touching you. You’re smooth against his jagged skin and he enjoys the contrast. He’s slow when he pulls you against him, careful to not snag you against his staples, but you seem to like his heat. You’ve even started wearing less to bed, slipping out of that baggy shirt and into a thin tank top; he’s pleased that he has more of you to caress.

It’s getting harder to keep you out of his head. He can smell your perfume, even if he hasn’t seen you for days, and each time he does see you, even at the hideout, his fingers itch to press against you.

You’d laughed at his sudden, intense, interest. The hell Dabi, are you touch starved or something? You’d teased. What’s up with you? I was worried about you burning down my apartment, not you turning into some kind of cuddle fiend.

He doesn’t care what you say. He knows it’s fucking stupid, fucking dumb, that he’s this desperate. It just feels good. And there’s not much about him that feels good these days, so he’ll take what he can get. Fuck you very much.

There’s a meeting. It’s one of the ones where Shigaraki demands that everyone make their way to the bar.

Boss man has been tense lately, thrumming with some dark energy, so the room is quiet as Kurogiri elaborates on the smaller details of the mission. Your part is minimal, limited to reconnaissance with Toga. It’s boring shit, and Dabi is only half listening to any of it.

Besides, there’s something else that’s snagging his attention.

Dabi is sitting on the couch, his eyes lingering on you. You’re wearing one of his favorite outfits and the color looks good on you. It brings out your eyes. You’re questioning Spinner and Toga about the finer points of your team up. He can’t hear you from here, but that doesn’t matter, he’s still in the best spot to spy you leaning forward, perfect ass on full display.

“She’s gotten better, more adept at working undercover,” Compress’ voice shakes Dabi from his thoughts and he turns to him, a bland frown on his face.

“Who?”

“Please, you know who I’m talking about. You can’t stop looking at her.”

He chortles, his laugh a sharp bark. “You’re fucking joking. Her? Fuck, no. I’m gonna head out, not like the boss has anything for me anyway,” Dabi stands, slipping his hands into his trench coat and pacing to the heavy door, shouldering his way into the night.

He leans against the brick wall, lighting up a cigarette and sighing a thin line of smoke into the chilled air. Fuck, they’re noticing what’s going on. Wait. What is going on? It’s not like the two of you are fucking. Yet, a small voice echoes in the back of his mind, and he smirks at that thought.

Yeah, maybe it’s time to speed things up.

You step out a few minutes later, your eyes searching for him. He flicks his cigarette onto the pavement and wraps his fingers in your coat, tugging you to him. You don’t fight him; don’t make a sound as he pins you against the brick, his body hot against your front.

The two of you watch the other, his cerulean eyes roving over your face. Then he’s lifting your chin, his lips sliding across yours. It’s a strange kiss. Usually, he’s too busy trying to get off to focus on his partner. He rarely kisses anyone, even if he’s hooking up. But this kiss?

Like everything else about you, it’s fucking nice.

You move with him, your body surging from the brick, breasts flattening against his chest, fingers cupping behind his ears; nipping and sucking at him, your teeth digging into his burned lower lip and pulling. You’re encouraging him to touch you next, rubbing yourself on him until his hands fall to your hips. He’s already half hard, and that warm juncture of your thighs isn’t helping matters.

To his shock, he’s having trouble keeping up.

You’re already pulling from him when he dips his tongue into your mouth. He gasps at the emptiness, that chilling vacancy that your touch leaves him panting into. Before he can bemoan your absence, you’re kissing at his neck, lifting on your tiptoes to reach the staples on the side of his face. You lick at him, your wet tongue dragging over his burns. He trembles under your hands and you smile, your laugh bright.

Snarling, Dabi yanks your head back and you meet his hazy gaze, biting your lip; pantomiming a wonton innocence. Immediately, he’s pushing you into the brick, his hands cupping and lingering until you’re whining for him. That’s fucking better, he thinks, his teeth worrying against your pulse.

Just when he’s got you where he wants you, your hand snakes between the two of you, pressing against the bulge of his dick. Dabi can’t help his sharp intake of air, and his head falls to your shoulder as he ruts into your palm. You keep kissing at the side of his face, your lips roving over his ear as you tug at his covered dick. You’re saying something, but he can’t focus when you’re doing that.

“Dabi,” you try again, teeth ensnaring his destroyed earlobe, sucking at the burnt skin. “They’re about to come out.”

He knocks your hand away from his straining, throbbing length and leans away from you. Fuck, you look good.

Your lips are swollen, and your eyes are dazzling. He can’t pull himself away. You smile at his dazed expression and lift a hand to his cheek, your palm cool against his overheated skin.

The door shudders open and the two of you spring apart. A few minutes later Toga is grabbing at your arm and pulling you down the street, away from him.

He’s waiting outside your apartment, another cigarette smoldering to ash under his lips. But he can’t bring himself to go in.

Not without you.

Toga’s kept you busy. It’s been over an hour since that kiss in the alleyway. He’s cooled off since then, but that simmering heat that you elicited from him? That hasn’t dimmed. He’s still half hard against his dark pants and he can’t bring himself to care. Besides, Dabi has a very specific idea about how he’s going to have you lessen that pressure for him.

He’s just about to light another cigarette when he sees you.

You walk into your building, and he starts the long climb up the fire escape. His heart is pounding again. He hasn’t wanted something this badly in ages. He’s been so fucking focused on his cause, on making his plans a reality; he just hasn’t had the time.

But now? Fuck, he wants there to be more hours in the day. He’s hoping the two of you can pick up where you left off. Yeah, he tells himself, scaling the last few steps, it’s just about the sex.

That sounds better than saying what he really wants.

You’re already slipping your oversized sleep shirt over your head when he lifts your window. You pause, watching him curl his way into your space. Once he pulls his legs inside he turns to you, his eyes dark, unfathomable, the blue so deep that you feel you’re drowning in it.

He doesn’t shut the window. Instead, he yanks his clothes off, clattering them against your floor. You smile and a gentle laugh makes its way to him.

“What did I say about coming in through the window?” you chuckle, already lifting your arms for him.

He’s against you in a single breath, his warmth seeping its way into your chilled skin. His lips are rough, pressing and lifting, biting and nipping. He’s working you toward your bed and once your knees hit the edge of your mattress, he’s shoving you down.

You flop against the cold blankets, your legs already spreading for his hips. He’s hot, scaldingly hot, against your hands. Your fingers dip into his hair and you pull him back, earning a low growl and his flashing glare, displeasure written all over his face.

“Slow down,” you scold, your legs wrapping around his hips, grinding against the hardness you find.

“The fuck? You goddamn tease. Fucking saying that, then rubbing your wet pussy all over my dick,” Dabi snarls, snatching your wrists and pinning your hands beside your head.

“How do you know it’s wet?” you ask, batting your eyes at his steeled jaw.

“It fucking better be,” he groans, his teeth sinking into your neck and pressing, hard.

You gasp at the stimulation and arch for him, testing his hold on your wrists. Grunting, he licks a wet line to your pulse, his hands tightening over yours. “Mmm, why don’t you find out?” you ask, leaning into his lips, loving the contrast of his destroyed and perfect skin.

He shifts his grip on you, yanking your arms up, pinning your hands above your head. He lifts one of his own hands away once he’s satisfied he’s got a good hold on you. His warm fingers trace down your side, pausing when he gets to the lacy band of your panties. Teasingly, he pulls fabric away from your skin, and lets it snap against your hip. Dabi tips his nose into the curve of your neck and shoulder, taking a deep drag against you.

You buck your hips, squirming under his weight. “You get lost? My pussy is a little further down.”

He chuckles darkly, his breath making you shiver. You’re just about to wriggle from him when one long finger eases past your panties and presses into your sopping heat. “Oh,” you gasp, your eyes rolling back. It feels like he’s heated his fingertip, and the skin that’s stroking and thrusting into you is warm, too warm.

Dabi leans away from your neck, bracing himself above you with his knees, pulling himself into a hunched position. He’s smirking at your awed expression and his teeth glow in the darkness.

“Like I said doll, you’re already so fucking wet for me. You want more?”

You nod and buck your hips, digging that finger deeper. He groans at your eagerness and you can feel him warming the next digit up, the tip burning against the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

Once it’s in, he starts to v the two, dragging them along your rippling walls, spreading you open, easing you into his hand. Your slick is sliding down your legs and seeping into the sheets. Still, Dabi keeps on, maintaining that steady stretch. It starts to sting and you shift away, but he releases your wrists, free hand moves to your hip, stilling you.

You glance up at him, curious. His eyes are hooded, the blue a velvety sapphire. He looks like he’s holding himself back from something. Almost like… like he’s handling you with more care than he’s ever given anything. It’s a strange thought, but the idea of it makes you reach for him, your fingers running down his discolored skin, lingering over the staples and piercings.

“I’ve gotta stretch you out,” he informs you, his eyes closing behind his trembling eyelids, savoring your gentle caress.

“Hmm, you that big?” you joke, fully expecting him to react, to silence you with a kiss or another well-timed thrust of his fingers. But he surprises you. He opens his eyes and fixes you with a rough stare, his digits continuing that aching pull. You’re throbbing around him, your arousal easing his passage, his extensions.

“I don’t want to… hurt-” he stops, his eyes narrowing. With an inaudible sigh, he slides down your body, only halting once he’s face to face with your sleek cunt. His breath heaves against you and you wrap a leg over his back, holding him close.

Dabi laves his tongue over you, latching onto your pulpy clit and giving it a soft suck. Your hands sink into his hair, curling into the spiky tendrils, urging him to give you more.

He rewards your needy moans with another lick and he flicks his eyes up to yours, watching you over your shaking curves.

“I’m going to add another finger,” he tells you, preparing you for another deep stretch. When he enters you almost pull from him, your hips bowing away at the pricking of pain. Sensing your distress, he keeps his lips around your pulsing clit, distracting you with kisses and low blows of air.

Finally, you can feel yourself loosening. Your feet brace against your bed and you use the leverage to maneuver him deeper. You feel, you feel so…

Dabi, realizing that your cunt is quivering around his intruding digits, shifts closer, his piercings rubbing against your thighs. He’s sloppy now, less controlled. His tongue is circling your clit with furious laps and he lets a canine trace the bud. His fingers are still spreading and he’s found that spongy spot now. He taps against it, teasing you, making you clench and gasp around him.

Just when you think you can’t take it anymore, when it seems like all the sensations are too, too, much; it snaps. The coiling in your core pulls free and you’re moaning, so loudly you’re worried your neighbors will hear. His name is falling from your lips at a rapid rate and you can feel his smirk as he lifts his fingers from your cunt.

Dabi leans away and you shake at the loss of him. He was so warm, so hot against your damp skin and you miss it. He watches you, tucking his fingers into his mouth, lapping the final bits of your release from him.

“Take off your clothes,” he demands when he’s finished, his hands already dropping to his tented boxers, slipping the elastic down his trim waist.

You shift to obey, your hands yanking your shirt, bra and soaked panties off of you. You splay under him, indolently admiring the sight that is revealed to you. Oh, you think, unable to contain your small gasp, he is big.

His cock is long, thick, and curved, and it’s dripping with pre-cum. There’s a crossed set of piercings at the tip of his length and you watch, mesmerized, as a shimmering strand of his arousal catches on the shiny silver, leeching down the smooth length of him. He’s bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, and that thought makes you shiver with anticipation, and a small sliver of worry.

Dabi grins wildly at your flushed face. “Like what you see?”

You nod, and he laughs, fingers snatching your legs, tugging you toward him. You spread for him, so eager and fucking turned on you can’t think straight. His hand lowers to his cock, and he strokes himself as he rechecks your silken cunt, gathering some of the gossamer strands of your arousal on his fingers as he ensures that you’re ready to take him.

“I’m not going to go slow,” he warns you, his eyes lifting from your folds.

Gulping and biting your lip, you nod, a shaking exhale escaping your lungs. He shifts himself nearer and begins to press. He’s right, you think, wincing at the sting of his intrusion. He’d stretched you out, licked you until you were leaking all over the bed, but it hurts.

It takes him a moment to bottom out. Once he does, he groans and gasps above you. “Fuck (Y/N), you’re so damn tight.”

You flop your head against your pillow and let out a long sigh. He’s holding still as you adjust, and, despite his warning, he’s being careful with you. It makes your chest squeeze. After a few more pained breaths, you can feel a low tingling radiating from your core. It’s like an itch. Experimentally, you cant your hips, your legs wrapping around his waist, cautious of the stapled skin across his lower back.

Dabi mutters a soft curse and pulls back, his length sliding out of your drenched pussy. When he glides back in, you feel that same tingling sensation. Distantly, you realize it must be those piercings of his, but you’re too overwhelmed by the sensation to process it fully.

“Hold on,” he groans, his hands bracing beside your head. You lace your arms around his bowed neck, and he starts to pounds into you. It’s a calculated motion, but- ah- he’s taking the extra second between his powerful pulls and thrusts to scrape his pelvis against your pulsating clit, stimulating you, ensuring that dim blaze pleasure within you keeps building. Whimpering, you arch your back, your ankles locking around him, encouraging him to keep going. You feel so good, so full, filled to the brim and practically begging him for more.

Sloppily, his mismatched lips find yours and he nibbles and kisses at you. The sheer heat of him is making you both slick with sweat. You don’t mind the salty, dampened feeling, if anything, it eases his motions.

You’re so wet now that he’s gliding easily into you; that piercing of his heating up, and the rapid fire thrusts he’s giving you create a smoldering inside you; like he’s catching you on fire from the inside out.

His hips stutter and he lifts one hand from the bed, his thumb easily finding your clit. He presses a tight circle across you and you see spots.

“Come on,” he groans, his voice hoarse, strained, “cum for me (Y/N). Fucking cum on my dick.”

That desperation in his tone is all that it takes.

Seconds later, you’re arching and shaking so much that he has to hold you still. He eases into you a final time, his frantic thrusts slowing, spacing out as he enjoys your rippling channel, and the fiery feeling of his own release almost hurtles you over the edge again. You curl against him, panting into his burnt ear, licking at the damaged skin.

Dabi leans heavily against you, one large hand pressing into your lower back, lifting you to him. Once he comes back to himself, he kisses at your shoulder, his warm breath making you shiver. He eases himself out of you and your legs clamp together, holding his cum inside you. It still feels so, so hot, and you’re not ready to let it drip out of you, not yet.

He untangles himself from you and adjusts some of his staples, wincing against the sting of his marred and clean flesh. Realizing what he’s doing, you slip from the bed and pad into your bathroom. You clean yourself off and grab a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, dampening a clean cloth with the solution.

“Here. It’s got some peroxide on it,” you tell him as you reenter the bedroom, tossing the rag his way. He catches it easily, dabbing it over himself, careful to not snag it on any of his loose skin. While he’s busy doing that, you snatch up his discarded white shirt and sling it over your head. He looks at you and scoffs.

“What’s wrong with yours?” he asks, tossing the cloth onto the floor.

“Yours looked better,” you inform him, returning to his side and leaning close. He rolls his eyes at you and you shift into his open lap, straddling his hips. Grinning, you kiss at his neck again, sneaking a few groans from him. Sighing as you give him a particularly hard nip, he bats you off of him, tumbling you down to the sheets.

“Give me a fucking minute,” he complains, shaking his head as you wrap around him, pulling him into your arms. Once he’s settled onto the bed you turn, pressing your back to his chest, relaxing into the familiar hold. He snorts, amused by your sudden change of mind.

Dabi lowers his forehead to the back of your head, a small smile rising along his lips. Your breathing evens out and he listens to the sound, trying to memorize each little detail of you.

Yeah, this is it, he tells himself as he drifts off. The rest is just extra. Oh, it’s nice, to be sure, but this, this right here is what he really wants.

Notes: Soft, soft Dabi. I like him like this ꒰ ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱ ˖°

Tags: @evesmores, @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx

#dabi #toya todoroki #i can put that #like omg #bnha smut #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #toya x reader #toya x y/n #toya x you #tw: blood #tw: gore #tw: dabi #tw: heat play #answered asks #asks

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slafkovskys · 4 years ago

Text

the way you do / t. emberson

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

my masterlist!

title from fireproof by one direction

warning(s): swear words, mentions of a concussion, jealousy, accusations of cheating, also written in a no covid world :)

word count: 5.8k

you cheer along with only a portion of the crowd as the goal horn sounds, signaling what you knew was the first and last point of the night for wisconsin. while david gets to work on updating the instagram account from his spot beside you, your fingers rapidly type out a tweet to send out that would update the people who were following along there.

badgers are on the board thanks to tyler inamoto! the score is 3-1 arizona state with 0:10 left in the third period

“what are you doing after this?” david asks, looking back out onto the ice while you start a new tweet, just in case something were to happen in the next ten seconds. “i’m sure we can find some bar to sneak into. are you up for it?”

“i don’t know,” you sigh, focusing on the opposing team’s player as he takes the puck and shoots down the ice, attempting to beat the buzzer. you frown when the horn sounds, signaling the end of the game and a win for arizona, which you quickly update on. “it’s my turn to do the interviews and i don’t know how long that’s gonna take. i always have to chase someone down and i also said that i would help cole with his biology, but i think that’s going to be a plane ride home priority.”

“well, at least they’re all going to be in the same place for at least the next twelve hours or so. it shouldn’t be that hard to find who you want,” david stands up and you follow suit, making sure that you have your phone in your back pocket before following him towards the locker room. “besides, they like you more than they like me. you’ve got that midwestern charm and i’ve got an annoying southern accent.”

“your accent is not annoying. tell me who told you that it was and i will gladly humble them,” you look at the younger boy who smiles.

it was no secret that the boys were more acquainted with you rather than david as you had two years on him. while you were a senior, david was only a sophomore starting out with the team. this was your third year with them and you had taken him under your wing because he was going to be taking over for you next year when you were gone.

you make your way through the arena, taking a route that was closed off to the general public to make it back to the locker room to catch the boys before they got caught up in granato’s post-game speech.

“who am i talking to tonight?” you mumble to yourself as you tug at your bottom lip. you look up at david who was leaning against the wall across from you, “do you remember who i talked to last week? don’t look at me like that. so much has happened between now and then…”

“trouble in paradise?” he’s quick to joke, but the look that you send him causes the smile to drop from his face. his eyes widen, “please tell me-”

“we haven’t broken up, if that’s what you were going to say,” you look back down at your computer screen and shrug, “it’s just- he’s been acting weird since we landed. he’s so touchy and, yeah, we’ve had our moments. hell, we were long distance for two years, but this is- it’s just weird.”

“i mean, i’ve never been in a serious relationship, but you definitely need to talk to him. you’ve been together too long to let it fizzle out. you’re the only couple that i can tolerate,” he rolls his eyes and you send him a grin. “it’s true. you and ty are, like, royalty at wisconsin. i’m pretty sure that you’re the couple that has been together the longest.”

“maybe second longest. i met a girl last year who had been with her boyfriend for six years and we’ve only been together for five, so they have us beat,” you leave out the fact that both of them graduated last summer.

the boys trickle back quietly. you give them a moment to get settled before taking a deep breath and walking towards the entrance. you peek your head in and granato spots you immediately, waving you inside. “you’ve been spared for two minutes, boys. listen to the lady and don’t give her a hard time.”

you send him a nod in thanks before looking out over the room. you had all of their attention except for one and it was the person who you cared the most for. you send a soft smile as your eyes scan the room, “i don’t love any of you any less. you played a great game boys and you’re going to kill it tomorrow.”

“did you get any more stickers?” owen asks and you turn to look at him.

“i did, actually, but you can blame your captain for stealing them all before i could distribute them,” you look back at ty who looks at you with a cold look. you swallow the lump in your throat and quickly look towards the other ty who speaks up.

“do you think you could find those dinosaur ones again? those were badass.”

“i still have mine on my water bottle!”

“i missed the dinosaur pack.”

“that’s why you have to score, mike.”

yes, you were aware of how childish the stickers were. you used them as an incentive so that when they came to talk to you, they got to pick a sticker. the boys enjoyed them and even stuck them on their equipment sometimes when they could get away with it.

“okay, back on track,” you look down at your computer. you tap your nails on the keypad before clicking your tongue, “i need to see tyler, roman, and brock’s brother-”

“hey!” cole shouts from beside you while your joke provokes some of the boys to laugh.

“just keeping you humble, caufield,” you wink and he rolls his eyes, sinking back into his stall. you shake your head, “i’m not going to make you talk to me tonight because honestly, i’m drained and i know all of you are too. but please do come find me during breakfast tomorrow because i do have deadlines that i have to meet and that’s stretching it far enough. if you decide that you want to be mean and not come, i will be even meaner and snitch and you can find yourself being worked overtime in practice. are we clear, gentlemen?”

“yes ma’am!”

“thank you and good night,” you wave your hand around as you exit the room, shaking your head at the claps that followed you out. you and david gather your things and head toward the bus, knowing very well that it would be a while before the boys would begin to file out. you flop down in your seat and sigh, “one down, one to go.”

even though it wasn’t often, you loved when you got the opportunity to go on road trips. you usually got to go on the ones that were just bus trips, but it was a rare occasion when you got to go on trips that had to be made by plane. once or twice during the season, however, you got to pick a trip that you wanted to come on and this year you had picked arizona. before ty had gotten drafted, you had never been nor had you ever really wanted to go to the state. after coming to see ty during his first development camp, you had pretty much fallen in love with it and had taken every opportunity to come and visit since.

“your future home,” david chuckles and you roll your eyes. “what? do you know something that i don’t?”

“there’s a lot of things that i can’t talk about, david and those that pertain to my boyfriend’s future career are ones that are at the top of the list. you aren’t getting any insider news from me, buddy,” you point an accusatory finger and he holds his hands up in surrender.

“you could be my anonymous source?” he suggests, smirking when you flip him off.

it’s relatively quiet for the next half hour until the doors of the bus open and the boys start stumbling on. you close your laptop and leave it on the empty seat that ty usually occupied and stand up, pushing your way to the front. brock pats your head as he passes and you shove an elbow into his side, “dick.”

“he’s in a mood, princess. tread lightly.”

his warning makes you raise an eyebrow. you don’t have time to ask what he meant before ty rounds the corner. shay moves to the side to let you step off of the bus and you send him a grin. you meet ty in the middle, wrapping your arms around his neck, “i‘m proud of you.”

“are you?” he spits. his hands stay glued to his sides and you pull away, dropping your own. “cole’s on his way. wouldn’t you rather see him instead?”

“what are you talking about?”

“you seem to be real fucking close these days. you’re with him more than you’re with me, so is it wrong for me to just assume that you’re fucking him too?” your mouth gapes at his words.

“are you accusing me of cheating on you?” you lower your voice, very aware of his teammates that could definitely hear your conversation. he shrugs his shoulders, crossing his arms over his chest. “i know how you get after losses, but for you to go as far as to accuse me of cheating on you with a member of your team-”

“it’s fucking obvious, y/n. you’re so flirty with each other, sitting next to each other on the plane, and that shit in the locker room. i’m not oblivious.”

“fuck you, dude. i have given up so much for you and the fact that you can stand there and accuse me of doing that to you after everything that we’ve been through over the last five years, makes me wonder if it was even worth it.” you turn on your heel and march towards the bus, leaving him standing there looking shocked. you make your way up the stairs and the bus goes quiet as they stare at you, obviously having heard what happened outside. you swallow, “i’m sorry about that.”

you make your way back to your seat and grab your computer, propping your feet on the empty seat and shrinking against the window. the tears threaten to spill out from your eyes, but you don’t let them. once everyone is accounted for, the bus pulls away from the arena and heads for the hotel.

you run your fingers against your temples, trying to soothe the headache that had developed in the last five minutes. you could feel eyes on you and you look up to find jack sitting in the row of seats beside you. he opens his mouth to speak, but you shake your head, “please don’t.”

you grab your phone and quickly go to your messages, finding david’s contact and shooting your fingers across the screen quickly:

do you still feel like going out??

we have curfew

and after what just happened it doesn’t seem like a good idea

curfew is midnight and it’s not even ten yet. we’ll have a couple hours and after what just happened, going out seems like a great idea

are you in or not? because i’m going even if i have to go alone

let me go to my room first and i’ll meet you in the lobby

when you woke up the next morning, you were still tired. you had barely slept and the last thing you remembered before you were able to slip into unconsciousness was the sun slowly starting to peek through the window of your hotel room.

it took a few seconds for it to register that someone was pounding on your door. with a grunt, you throw the sheets away from your body and stumble towards the door. you look out of the peephole and your stomach sinks at who is standing on the other side. you undo the deadbolt and pull it open, “you should not be here.”

“don’t worry, he’s the one who sent me here. he also sent this and,” he pulls out a bouquet from behind his back, “these.”

“that’s not going to make me forgive him,” you shake your head and accept the flowers and the coffee cup from cole anyway, gesturing for him to come inside.

“believe me, we all told him that,” cole takes a seat on the spare bed and you look at him with a confused gaze. he raises an eyebrow, “y/n, you have the entire hockey team behind you. we’ve been giving him hell all night. dom even bunked with brock and jack in protest. also, i’m pretty sure that coach found out and brought him back down to earth, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“did he-” you can’t even say it.

“no, he didn’t lose the c, but coach was very adamant that what happened was not captain behavior and that he’s on very thin ice,” he pauses for a minute and then grins, “ha, thin ice.”

you shake your head and lean against the desk in the corner of the room, “that’s good then.”

“he accused you of cheating on him and you’re worried about his letter status?”

“you don’t understand, cole,” he looks at you in a way that says ‘well, help me understand.’ you sigh, “we’ve been together since we were sixteen and seventeen years old. we’ve known each other even longer. i’ve watched him work his ass off and sacrifice so much to get where he is. the thought of him losing that over him saying some dumbass thing because he was pissed off breaks my heart in more ways than one. do i think that he’s an absolute asshole right now? absolutely. do i want to look at him? not really. but i still love him, cole. and i always will.”

he looks at you for a second before he pretends to wipe a tear from his eye, “really tugged on the heartstrings there, y/n. love is a crazy thing.”

“indeed it is. now get out of my room. i need to get ready for the day and i’m slightly hungover and hotel breakfast food sounds amazing right now,” you follow him towards the door.

“oh and just so we’re clear,” he shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he faces you, “i made it very clear that you are way too old for me.”

you shove his shoulder, “considering that he’s the only exception for dating someone younger than me, you are way too young for me, cole caufield.”

“glad that we have an understanding,” he holds up his hand and you smack yours against it. with a grin, he makes his way towards the elevator and you close the door behind him.

you take your time getting ready, trying to hide the fact that you were recovering from a little too much alcohol you had practically inhaled at some bar downtown the night before that you couldn’t even remember the name of. you make sure all of your things are gathered and together because you knew that you wouldn’t want to do it when you returned.

you grab the things that you would need for the game and head downstairs. you walk into the conference room that had been set aside for the team and immediately head to grab your food. once your plate was piled high, you turn to find an empty and immediately your eyes lock with his. just by looking at him, you can tell that he hadn’t slept and even if he did, it wasn’t much.

your attention is pulled away from him by a shout of your name. owen is waving you over and shay is pointing at an empty seat, “we called dibs on you this morning.”

“too soon, lindy,” robbie shakes his head as you take the seat between owen and dylan. he looks at you concerned, “you good?”

“don’t worry about me boys. you have a game to win today and that’s what you should be focused on,” you try and distract them but none of them are buying what you’re trying to sell. you twist the cap off your water and take a sip before grabbing your fork, “seriously boys, i appreciate your concern, but i’m okay. i promise.”

“if you want us to beat him up for you, just say the word,” dylan offers and the table agrees. you raise an eyebrow, “we discussed it last night and we also have first dibs on defending your honor if you asked us to.”

“his roommates are next in line,” ryder points his fork at you and you smile.

“i’m glad to know that you would beat up your captain for me, boys.”

“he may be captain, but no one disrespects our y/n and gets away with it. who would give us stickers then?”

“we can’t have anything because of you, shay. she’s more than just the damn stickers.”

three o’clock comes quick and before you know it, you’re making your way down the tunnel to cheer for them as they come out, just as you always did. you clap as they line up in front of you. you avoid looking at him until you feel a tap on your ankle. you look down just in time to see a hockey stick being pulled away. you look up to find its owner staring right back at you, apologetically.

he nods his head, “i love you.”

“i love you too, twenty-one. don’t do anything stupid,” you cross your arms over your chest and give him your best ‘i’m not joking look.’ it was part of the routine that you two had developed over the last couple of years, and even though there was still some obvious tension between the two of you that had yet to be resolved, he hadn’t missed his chance to continue it.

he chuckles right as the announcer booms to the crowd to welcome them to the ice, “no promises.”

you watch as they file out, the cheers for them were not as loud as they were when you were on home ice, but you made sure to scream as loud as always. you and david make quick work of getting to your seats and he wasted no time in sending you a look, “are you-”

“we haven’t talked yet, no. we probably won’t even have time until we’re back home, but just because he’s being an asshole doesn’t mean i love him any less,” you defend yourself and he hums, looking out onto the ice.

when they get in position for puck drop, an uneasy feeling develops in your stomach. you try not to think about it as the puck hits the ice and the game begins, but unfortunately, it didn’t last long.

it was some freshman lineman known for being a menace. he’d been practically on top of ty every time that he got on the ice, shoving him when he didn’t have the puck, almost tripping him once, and of course, the refs were in their own little worlds and hadn’t called a penalty for anything.

eight minutes into the game was when it happened and when it happened, it happened quickly. you barely had time to blink before their gloves were off and their hands were tangled in each other’s jerseys. you stand up, watching as your boyfriend loses the upper hand quickly. in a matter of seconds, his helmet is somehow knocked off and he’s hitting the ice and-

he’s not moving.

“get the fuck up ty,” your hand covers your mouth as the trainers rush out onto the ice after they pull the guy off of him. you can see on the screen that he’s smirking as he’s led off the ice and down their tunnel. david grabs onto your arm as you stumble, “please get up baby.”

“y/n,” he says, but you don’t respond.

you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding when ty moves, taking a minute before he gets up with a lot of help from the trainers. you watch as he’s led off the ice and you swallow at the blood on his jersey. you turn towards david, “i have to-”

“go, babe. i can cover this. go check on him,” that was all that you needed before you scoot out of your row and quickly make your way down the stairs.

you wind up outside the locker room where you're stopped by a security guard. you hold up your badge that showed that you had permission to be there, but he gave you a disapproving look as he shakes his head. you pull out your phone, but anna walks out just in time, “anna!”

“i was just coming to get you,” she sighs, glaring at the security guard as he finally lets you pass. she wraps a hand around your arm as she leads you back to the room, “we’re pretty sure he has a minor concussion at least. paul’s giving him a check-up now and he’s going to decide what to do from there.”

“has he said anything?” you ask, mind running wild as it thinks of the worst.

“the only thing he asked for, even when he came to, was he wanted to see his wife. i told him that you weren’t married, but he wouldn’t hear it. it was just ‘my wife, my wife, my wife’ and that’s why i was coming to get you. he said if he has to go to the hospital or anything, he’s not going if you’re not there with him,” she says and you take a deep breath. she squeezes your arm as you stop outside of the closed door, “just don’t be too loud. he’s very sensitive to light and noise right now.”

“of course,” you nod and she opens the door. the lights were dimmed just a little, but you still easily spot him in the middle of the bed. paul stands beside him, checking on him while he sits up. he pulls away from paul’s hands and moves to get up, but you quickly get to his side, placing your hand on his shoulder and grabbing his hand, “don’t move, ty. let him do what he needs to do.”

“baby,” he whimpers and you squeeze his hand, pulling it up to your mouth and pressing a kiss to the skin. throughout the entire process, he doesn’t let go. he answers what he’s asked and when paul moves away, he pulls you close, “baby.”

“i know. i’m sorry,” you wrap your arm around his neck and press a soft kiss to the side of his head when he tucks his face into your neck.

“the good news is that i don’t think that you need to go to the emergency room,” paul announces, leaning against a table backed against the wall. he looks at the two of you, “but i don’t feel comfortable sending you back out there. you’ve got a minor concussion and if they aren’t treated right, they can go bad quick.”

“i know,” he says, squeezing your hip.

“so, what do we need to do?” you ask.

“i’m gonna see if i can get the bus to drop you guys back off at the hotel. he needs rest right now and it’ll be hard to get that in this environment,” he shakes his head, “who are you rooming with, ty?”

he winces at the sound of a muffled goal horn and you answer for him, “mersch.”

“if i give you a list of what to do, do you think that you can watch over him?”

“of course,” you nod and ty shifts.

“great. i know that he’s not supposed to be in your room after certain hours, but i think that coach will agree with me that in these circumstances, it’s necessary,” he says and you hum.

after he tells you the basics and makes sure that you have his phone number if you need something, you pull away from ty, “i’m gonna go and grab you some clothes, okay? i know you don’t want to be in that on the bus.”

“please don’t go,” he pleads, holding onto your hand as you go to step away. “you’re gonna leave me because of what i said.”

you look at paul briefly who looks concerned. at least there was someone who was out of the loop.

you shake your head and rub at his cheek, “no, baby. i’m coming back i promise. i’m just gonna go get your clothes from the locker room that’s right across the hall.”

“i’ll come with you,” he insists, moving to stand up.

both you and paul are quick to push him back down as gently as possible. paul pats his chest, “you can stay here with me big guy. i still have a couple of questions for you.”

hesitantly, he lets your hand go as you promise him once more that you were coming back. you make your way across the hall and find his stall, digging through his things to find some clothes for him that were not his suit.

once you find some sweats and a hoodie, you turn on your heel just as the boys start to file in. jack is the first to speak up, “is he okay?”

“minor concussion and as of right now, he doesn’t need to go to the emergency room, but paul’s pulling him for the game. i think we’re getting sent to the hotel where he’s going to be on mandatory rest until he gets checked on again before we leave tomorrow. so, please, i love you all so much and he does too, but just let him sleep. we don’t want this to turn into something major,” you give them all pleading eyes and they all nod.

you walk back across the hall to find coach talking with paul and ty laying back on the bed. instantly, he reaches out for you. granato looks at you, “you’re going to make sure he’s okay?”

“i’m going to try my best,” you assure him and he nods.

“i trust you a hell of a lot more than i trust mersch when it comes to these types of things,” he looks over to ty and pats his leg, “the bus is taking you two back to the hotel where you’re going to rest, got it?”

“yes sir,” he mumbles, eyes closed.

granato and paul leave the room as ty gets dressed. he does need some assistance and when he’s finally out of his gear, he sighs, “i never realized how extensive all of that was.”

“tell me about it,” you mumble. you look at him, “are you ready? do you think that you can get to the bus?”

“if you’ll go slow. you always walk so fast,” he complains and you grin. he throws an arm over your shoulder and you wrap an arm around his waist. you walk out of the door and he pauses, looking into the locker room, “can i-”

“you’ve probably got a minute or two before they have to go back,” you say and he nods. with help from you, he limps over to the doorway and the room goes quiet.

“boys,” he says, standing in front of you, but reaching out behind him for your hand. you take it and squeeze, “what’s the score?”

“we’re leading with one,” the other ty says and he nods. “you good, cap?”

“minor concussion, nothing i can’t handle. plus, i’ve got a good babysitter for tonight,” he turns to look at you with a grin and you send a small smile back. “win it, boys. don’t worry about me, just win.”

“tough speech, eh?” dom calls and some of the boys chuckle.

“did you miss the part about the concussion?” ty asks and dom rolls his eyes. “love you boys.”

there’s an echo of his admission before you finally began the trek to the bus. you take up a row in the middle, ty taking the seat by the window and resting his head on your shoulder. you trace the veins on his hand as the bus takes you back to the hotel, the entire trip spent in silence.

once you get him inside your hotel room, he wastes no time crawling into bed. he looks at you hopefully, “will you lay with me?”

“let me get out of these jeans,” you find a pair of shorts and a too-big t-shirt that belonged to him at some point before you slip in beside him.

he presses himself to your chest and you card your fingers through his hair, “i’m sorry about what i said, y/n.”

“not now, ty. you need to rest.”

he sighs, but he doesn’t argue. it wasn’t long before his breathing evens out and he goes limp against you, leaving you to your thoughts.

“rise and shine,” you mumble, poking at his cheek. he groans, curling his fingers in the fabric of your t-shirt as he shakes his head. “baby, you have to get up every few hours. aren’t you hungry?”

“do you have food?” he asks, not opening his eyes.

“i can order some, but you have to tell me what you want. i can’t read your mind,” he rolls over then, stretching his arms out over his head. “how do you feel?”

“my head hurts and my body’s sore,” he says. “i didn’t break anything, did i?”

“do you think that you did?” you raise your eyebrows, ready to reach for your phone to call paul.

“no, no, i just- i remember hitting the ice and not much else after. i remember when i came to that anna was standing over me and i wanted you, but you weren’t there. i was looking for you in the stands, but i couldn’t find you. i- i thought that you were gone.”

“i was there ty. they just moved our seats tonight because someone had those already. i’m not leaving, i would never leave,” you assure him, running your hand along his cheek. “we don’t need to talk about this right now. you need to eat and rest-”

“i want to talk about it though. it’s been eating me up inside ever since i said it,” he looks at you pleadingly and you sigh. “i was an ass.”

“you were,” you agree and he chuckles. “the thing is, it’s not even really so much that you think that i would do that to you. yes, it obviously hurt, but it’s more so the fact that you would do it in public. the entire team heard you.”

“i know and believe me, i’ve already had my ass chewed out about it by everyone in that locker room, and i mean everyone. you have an entire hockey team behind your back on this one.”

“they told me. they’re also forming a line to beat you up if i needed them to which is nice,” you smile. it’s quiet for a moment before you speak again, “why did you do it? that’s what i want to know.”

“because i was angry. i was angry about the game last night and i saw you and cole. i know you’re just friends and that you’ve been helping him with his school stuff or whatever, but when you were on the plane, you were just so giggly or whatever. than that in the locker room-”

“we were just playing around, ty. he’s literally like my little brother.”

“and i know that. he made it very clear last night that you are too old for him.”

“we have an understanding,” ty presses his lips to your shoulder and you swallow. “i’m still mad at you. i forgive you, but i’m still mad.”

“you have every right to be. what i said was out of line and uncalled for, i’m surprised that you’re talking to me right now,” he chuckles, wincing as he presses his fingers to the side of his head. “oh yeah, that’s why.”

“i can’t give you anything for another couple of hours. ‘m sorry, love,” you push his hair away from his face.

“can i ask you something?” he asks and you hum. “last night, you said that you’ve given up so much to be with me and i don’t doubt that you have, i know that you have, but is there something that you’re not telling me.”

“it’s not important,” you shake your head.

he sits up then, staring down at you, “what is it, y/n?”

“do you- um, do you remember when i applied for that internship for digital marketing the summer after you graduated? after my freshman year?” you ask, pushing yourself up and scooting back against the headboard.

“yeah, you didn’t get it,” he looks at you confused. you look down at your hands and he takes a deep breath, “y/n, you didn’t-”

“they wanted me to fly to new york on draft weekend and i explained that i couldn’t then, but i could on monday. i wasn’t going to miss hearing your name being called or watching you put on that jersey, ty. they told me if i couldn’t be there on that saturday to just not bother,” you explain, “and instead of getting on a plane to new york, i got on one for dallas with you.”

“that would’ve given you so many opportunities, y/n. why would you do that?”

“because i love you and we’d been talking about it for years, you getting drafted. there was no way in hell i was going to miss it,” you shrug. “it’s fine though. i got the hockey gig and now we spend an almost unhealthy amount of time together so-”

“but that would’ve been so much better for you. you could’ve gone anywhere with that. europe, australia, anywhere. working for a college hockey team won’t look as good on job applications as that internship would have.”

“it’s in the past now. don’t worry about it. i’m happy where i am,” he reaches out for your hand and you curl your fingers around his. “wherever you are, that’s where i’m happy. fuck new york, europe, australia, or wherever. wisconsin is good for me right now. me and you, that’s all that matters.”

“it’s me and you, baby,” he mumbles and you smile, “me and you against the world, just like we’ve always said.”

#ty emberson #ty emberson imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #college hockey imagine #wisconsin badgers #arizona coyotes #my work

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gabelandescrocs · 4 years ago

Note

can you do number 2 or 3 for sebastian aho 🙏🏽😌

Hi there anon! first of all i would like to apologize on how long this took to write 😬 I chose 2 for this one. i hope you like it! ♡ thank you so much for requesting ♡♡♡

☆ check out this post to send requests ☆

A/N: LOOK AT THAT CUTE POUT 🥺🥺🥺 (GIF not mine!)

#2 “I told you not to read that!” with Sebastian Aho

There were very few material things you hold very dear to you in life; one was a precious picture of you and your family on vacation when you were 5 years old, a vintage polaroid camera your grandparents had passed onto you--which by a miracle still worked -- and the very last, your journal. Those three things you always carried around with you, people might deem it too sentimental but you loved taking pictures and writing down every thought in your head when speaking was never enough.

A lot of emotions get settled in that little journal of yours, whether it be a scratchy doodle of something you saw that made you happy or lengthy sentiments of an argument or intense emotions you had to deal with on certain days. It was your black hole. A thing where you’d chuck anything into and it will take every bit of it away in its endless storage. Well, journals run out of pages but the sentiment is still there.

Nobody was ever allowed to have a look inside those pages, you’d swear on your life to keep all of its contents for your eyes only. A lot of the things in it might be a bit embarrassing to share, you’ll admit; certainly the ones where you shove all of your feelings into about a specific person. You could probably find within its pages the very day you met and developed a crush on the soft-spoken, brown haired Finnish athlete. You knew having feelings for Sebastian was a big no-no in your line of work having to spend most of your office hours with the players as an assistant PR Manager. Thats why you chose to store them all away into that previous notebook. One thing that has been added to the precious items you carry around all day was another notebook; this one was actually a planner that you absolutely had to have with you at all times for your job.

Everything you’d ever need to keep your head on your shoulders was in that thing—contact numbers, workout schedules, game schedules, media days, heck even meal times for all of the players were logged into that thing. Your life depended on being on schedule with everyone on the team as to avoid mishaps and getting an earful from the higher-up at your end. Some of the players like to laugh and tease you for your “uptightness” and punctuality, calling the frayed little book your Bible. Others even suggested to just keep the schedules on your phone. But you explained that you liked it old school and you let them have their laughs. Of course, if they ever knew how that notebook kept the wheels turning in their day-to-day, you wouldn’t hear a chuckle.

On a day like today though, felt like it just got pulled from your worst nightmares. While being on a media tour with the Canes selected All-Stars, this season being Sebastian and Brock, the whole day seemed to had gone to disarray once you landed in Vegas. Interns that you had entrusted simple tasks had seemed to just give you all the wrong information and send you to the wrong places at the wrong time. Hotel rooms were double booked, the transportation had been scheduled at the wrong time and the two players almost didn’t make it to their first shoot of the day.

Deciding to save yourself from anymore headaches and miscommunications from more people, you left the interns to handle coffee runs and order lunch for the rest of your stay. All-Star Weekend was not the place to take off the training wheels for your type of job.

With the first round of media finally over mid afternoon, and all of the mishaps finally fixed, you bid the two players a good job today before you left them to get into their rooms to rest. You reach your room and just plant yourself face first into the bed letting out a deep sigh as a headache started to creep up on you. The thought of screaming out your frustration into your pillows for a bit was tempting but a knock from your door stirred you up from the bed.

“Come in!” you call out, thinking it would be another one of your interns delivering you with more mess ups of the day. You massage your temples sitting more upright from the bed when you see Sebastian walk in with a sheepish smile on his face.

“Hey, I know you’re already stressed today, but Brock lost the schedules you printed out for us, so he told me to ask you if you had more copies…” he trailed off with a grimace seeing as you already looked like you’ve had enough of todays events. He was already back tracking his statement and apologizing when you waved it off and pointed to your bag behind him. Telling him he could find your planner there and just take a photo of the pages you bookmarked for the weekend. The headache finally getting the better of you, you flop back on the bed holding your head in your hands groaning.

“It’s the black one with a blue bookmark in it. Don’t mind the other one, that’s not for work,” you inform him, voice a little muffled behind your hands.

You peaked back at Sebastian wondering why it was taking him a while to just take a picture of their schedule when you see him gawking a bit into what he held in his hands with a very prominent blush sprawled across his cheeks. You were confused at his reaction thinking the schedule wasn’t that bad, its not like he hadn’t gone through the same things as before. But then you realize he wasn’t holding your planner, he was holding a notebook though, but by the different color of the cover, it finally sinks that Sebastian was reading your journal—your private journal, and not your work planner. He looks up at you mouth agape trying to form words but none of them could come out.

“I told you not to read that!” you scramble off the bed to take the book away from him, a look of terror on your face and a mix of embarrassment and shock on his. “I-I’m sorry. I thought that was your planner. I didn’t mean to-“

“How much did you read?”

“What?”

“How much of it did you read?” you ask again, clutching the book to your midsection, feeling a bit exposed by what had just happened. Sebastian looks a bit apprehensive, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck trying to think of his words and making sure to avoid your eyes boring into him.

“Well, I know you like my smile and how you think I’m cute when I pout…” you groan and press the notebook to your face mentally willing it to help hide your shame.

“This is so embarrassing,” your mind was going a mile a minute realizing how unprofessional you must seem thinking that way about a person you literally work for and getting your feelings exposed in this manner. You were just about ready to dig yourself a hole in the middle of the Nevada when you hear his voice again.

“I like your smile too,” Sebastian quips. You lower the notebook from your face with a look of confusion on it, unsure of what you had just heard. Did he just compliment me? Now it was your turn to be speechless, Sebastian smiles more confidently at you now almost like he was happy to finally get that off his chest. He starts to walk back to your door to leave but stops just by the doorway.

“I’ll come pick you up at eight. Maybe I can tell you more things I like about you over dinner,”

You replied with a small ‘okay’ before he walked out of your room with the biggest smile on his face.

#sebastian aho x reader #sebastian aho blurb #sebastian aho imagine #nhl imagines #nhl blurbs #hockey blurbs #my writing #nhl fic #sebastian aho #carolina hurricanes #hockey imagines

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flannels-and-fannypacks · 4 years ago

Text

Will They Won’t They | Part 3/4 [Reggie Peters]

Pairing: Reggie Peters x fem!reader

Words: 5.7k

Summary: Reggie and reader were the best of friends up until middle school where they drifted apart and decided never to speak to each other again. What happens when a shared algebra class and a resulting detention force them to spend and increasing amount of time together. Will it be enough to overcome the mutual hate? Or was the relationship doomed from the start.

WARNINGS: swears, spicy dancing, ANGST

A/N: hey it’s drea in charge of posting again :) hope you all are doing well! if you enjoy this, please like, comment, and reblog! if you want to stay updated, dm us to be added to our taglist! sending my love <3 - drea :)

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The next morning, all the boys were refreshed and ready to start their practice. You, however, were upstairs in Rose’s room as she insisted on “dolling you up.”

“So,” Rose began as she brushed your hair out.

You rolled your eyes as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. You could almost see a difference in your appearance, and that had nothing to do with Rose’s magical abilities to style hair. You seemed happier, and your smile was...brighter. You haven’t seen that side of you since before middle school.

“I know it’s not just me who noticed it, but what happened there with you and country boy,” she gave you a light chuckle.

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently.

“What do you mean what do I mean?” Rose asked back confusingly. “You guys were just all close and not hating each other all of a sudden. What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you lied. “O-Our relationship is complicated, you know that. Somethings that happen now have been happening for a long time, if you know what I mean, and the only other person that knows about it is one of us,”

“So he just needed a friend?”

“Pretty much,” you nodded. “And I think he knew I needed one too, so for now we’re on civil terms,”

“It seems a bit more than civil to me,” Rose shrugged, turning you around so she could put on some eye shadow.

“Do we really have to do this?” you pointed to the makeup. “And yeah, it’s just civil,”

“It’s fun, come on!” she chuckled. “But you’re telling me you didn’t feel anything when he kissed you? Or when we found out that somehow you’d gotten paired with him in MASH?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, unsure if you were lying to your friend or not, it didn’t even seem to be clear for you at the moment. “It was just a kiss on the forehead. Nothing else to it.”

“Alright, if you say so,” she shrugged right as the door swung open, revealing Luke entering the room and flopping down on the bed.

“Lady Bunny, what’s up? I miss you,” he smiled and you chuckled, rolling your eyes yet again, but this time in a more affectionate manner.

“Shouldn’t you be practicing? You guys have a gig coming up soon don’t you?”

“We’re on break, so I thought I’d come visit my daughter,”

“Well your daughter is fine so you can leave,” you said begrudgingly.

“Nope, not gonna happen lady bunny,” he shook his head as Rose finished your eyeshadow and grabbed your arm, throwing you over his shoulder like the first time you met him and headed downstairs and to the studio.

By this point you had learned not to fight it when Luke carried you, otherwise not only would he get hurt, but you had put yourself in grave danger more times than you would like to admit.

When you reached the studio Luke placed you down gently on the couch before grabbing his guitar and motioning or the boys to get ready.

“We’d like to dedicate this song to a special someone in the audience,” Alex started, talking into his mic.

“Someone whose face looks like that of a bunny,” Luke added.

“And has a mean sucker punch,” Bobby contributed.

“And is just overall a pretty terrible person,” Reggie finished and you couldn’t help but laugh along with Rose on the sidelines.

“So Lady Bunny, this one’s for you,” Luke said, pointing at you before looking back down at his guitar.

The rock beat started slowly, with a familiar choppy guitar beginning that sounded like maybe it should have been a bit softer, but even though they had barely started you already knew what they were playing.

Reggie came in shortly after on bass along with Alex on drums and Luke on lead guitar.

You tapped your foot along to the beat while Luke gave you a knowing look and started singing,

“When it began, I can’t begin to knowing, but then I know it’s growing strong,”

Reggie hopped in, taking over for the next part of the verse, “Was in the spring, then spring became the summer. Who’s have believed you’d come along,”

Now all the boys were joining in together for the pre chorus,

“Hand, touching hand. Reaching out. Touching me. Touching you! My sweet sunshine,”

“Ba! Ba! Ba!” you and Rose came in right on beat.

“Good times never seemed so good,” Luke sang effortlessly.

“I’ve been inclined,” Reggie started, leaving room for you and Rose to come in once more. “To believe they never would, but now I,”

As the boys continued to sing, Rose stood up and pulled you to your feet. Giggling, the girl danced energetically in the middle of the studio, gesturing for you to join.

“Dance, (N/N)!” she exclaimed, her voice slightly drowned out from the music. You blushed, slightly swaying to the music until Rose grabbed your hands and waved them around, making you laugh at how ridiculous you both probably looked. “You look like a robot,” she scolded. “Let loose! Feel the music run through you!”

Rolling your eyes, you decided to take your friend’s advice and loosen up a bit. The two of you swayed your hips, occasionally twirling each other or jumping up and down while screaming the lyrics.

The chorus was coming up once more only this time Luke took the lead from the boys, changing Caroline yet again only this time singing something along the lines of,

“Sweet child of mine!”

Causing you to exaggeratedly roll your eyes at him and not noticing the cord that was pulled taught and level with the ground. You shuffled into it, tripping and falling straight in the direction of Reggie and his ‘rock out zone’. Letting out a shriek, you staggered back and closed your eyes, prepared to feel the roughness of the ground, only to be met with a strong pair of arms.

Your eyes fluttered open to see a pair of blue-green eyes stare down at you, sheepishly smiling. The boys had stopped playing once they realized you fell, all of them watching you in his arms.

“Still the clumsiest dork I know, Cookie?” he asked in a teasing voice.

You flashed him a smile. “Always, Flicka,” you replied.

Reggie helped you up but his arms didn’t leave their hold around you. He was so close you could feel his warm breath on your nose and his blue green eyes staring deeply into your soul. His closeness melted away everything around you, it all became fuzz until Alex spoke up and said,

“...Guys?”

You blinked a few times and stepped away from Reggie smoothing out your clothes. Your mind was racing. Did that just happen? Why was your heart beating so rapidly? And dammit, why was Reggie looking at you with that smile of his?

“I-I’m just going to go out for a second, you guys keep going,” you insisted and quickly walked out of the studio. Reggie called out your name, but you brushed him off as you sped down the sidewalk.

You didn’t even know where you were going. You felt like you couldn’t breathe in that studio, and honestly all you wanted was to get out, to leave, to think about what just happened.

Back at Rose’s house Reggie was frozen in place. Had he done something wrong? He had just gotten you back, was it really going to be that easy to lose you again.

“Reggie are you okay?” Bobby asked and Reggie frowned, but more a frown of confusion.

“Can we maybe take five?” Reggie said quietly, looking over at Rose, if anyone knew what the hell just happened it would be her.

Rose, who seemed to understand the look on Reggie’s face, subtly pointed at the door to the house. The two went into the kitchen, where Reggie began to pace back and forth.

“What did I just do?” he questioned aloud. “What did I just say? What did I just think?”

Rose’s eyes followed the boy, only to sigh in discomfort. “You mind taking a seat before we talk?” she suggested. “Sorry, you’re making me dizzy.”

Reggie paused before taking a seat at the table, his knees bouncing up and down as continued to ramble. “Was it something I did wrong?” he asked Rose. “I-I mean I always joke with her. She’s always clumsy a-and we’ve danced before so it’s not like the close proximity could have scared her off, right? Right? Rose, please say something before I do something stupid.”

Rose winced. “How stupid?” she risked asking.

“Like climb your roof and look for her stupid.”

Rose took the seat across from Reggie, the boy calming down slightly. “Reggie honey, tomar un respiro,” she instructed in Spanish only to be met with more anxiety and confusion.

“Please tell me that wasn’t English and I’m not hallucinating,” he begged, looking as though he was on the verge of passing out of bursting into tears. Or both.

“It’s Spanish Reg, and it means take a breath,” she said softly. “Now tell me slowly what’s going on in your heart,” she emphasized.

“I-I… (Y/N),” he said quietly, bringing a hand to his mouth, chewing on his nail. “Fuck me,” he groaned and fell back in his chair.

“What about (Y/N)?” Rose asked.

“Everything,” Reggie shook his head. “It’s always been everything. She’s always been my everything.”

Rose took his hand from his mouth and brought it down. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that, Reg.”

Reggie closed his eyes, pondering for a moment. “Ever since we were little, it was always me and her. Cookie and Flicka. We were partners in crime. Bonnie and Clyde, like she’d always say. And then I was stupid enough to let her go in middle school. But even after we stopped talking, I never stopped thinking about her. She was on my mind 24/7. Playing music with the guys, I always wondered what she would think about our music. When I was having a rough day, I would think about what she would say to cheer me up. E-even at night I’d stay up, wondering what she’d be doing if she were awake at this hour.” Reggie chucked to himself. “My answer would always be studying or making a midnight snack. A jelly sandwich and gummy worms. I thought it was disgusting but the look on her face when she’d make them growing up, all the thoughts left my mind. Because at the end of the day, she was with me. I always had my Cookie.”

Rose smiled as the boy recalled his memories, sharing them in great detail. It made her realize how alike Reggie and her friend were. They never stopped loving each other, no matter how stubborn they were about it.

“But when we were singing today,” Reggie continued, wiping his hands against his jeans. “I was watching her dance with you. It was the first time I had seen her so care-free, like there wasn’t a single thought in her mind that stressed her with worry and doubt. Something bubbled in my chest, I-I can’t explain it. But damn, her smile and laugh-” Reggie opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “I felt like if I died today, I’d be glad I saw her at her happiest one last time.”

“Reggie, hon, have you considered you might… maybe you’re in love with her?” Rose asked quietly and Reggie’s eyes widened.

“L-Love, you mean like a friend right?”

“No Reggie,” Rose gave him a kind smile, placing a hand on his that was resting in his lap. “I mean I think you actually love her. The way you talk about her, I-I hope someone talks about me like that one day.”

Reggie’s mouth went dry as he looked over at Rose.

“Rose I-,” he paused. “I can’t tell her,”

“Reggie what do you mean?” Rose exclaimed, her voice becoming slightly louder.

“I can’t do that to her,” he shook his head. “You can’t say anything to her,”

“Why not?” Rose asked, clearly not impressed with him.

“Because she doesn’t want this, clearly. She wants a friend so that’s what I’m going to be, even if it tears me to pieces. I don’t care,” he shook his head. “I’d do anything for her. No matter what the consequences.”

—

For the first time in your weeks of detention, you were the one who arrived late. Reggie had been waiting in the dance studio with Mrs. Leona, quite anxious to say the least. You were queasy as you approached the two, silently waving.

“There you are!” Mrs. Leona grinned, standing up from stretching. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up.”

“Sorry,” you apologized quietly, putting your bag on the floor and joining in on the stretches. “Car trouble,” you lied, hoping Reggie wouldn’t be able to notice.

“You okay?” Reggie whispered as you stretched your arms above your head.

You quickly whipped your head to face him. “Of course!” you squeaked. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just look a little nauseous,” Reggie noted, “Are you sure you should be here?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “Mrs. Leona, what’s the plan?” you asked, diverting your attention to the dance instructor.

Mrs. Leona reached for her notepad, skimming through her notes. “Well since you two did brilliantly for that last dance, I thought it would be good to request for you guys to work with me again.” She stepped in front of the mirror, clasping her hands together. “This lesson, I’m continuing partner work because unlike you guys, my students lacked the trust, the chemistry.” You squeaked in response, but Mrs. Leona didn’t seem to notice. “So I’m giving them this song to dance to. Lucky for them, it’s just focusing on footwork and lifting. But, since it’s a romantic song, they’re going to need to practice putting their emotions into their dance.” she smiled at the two of you. “But I know the chemistry part won’t be an issue for you both. Let’s get to work, shall we?”

You seemed hesitant to start. “Mrs. Leona maybe we can do something else, like something that doesn’t require close contact or lifting?”

Reggie gave you a look. “Scared I might drop you, Cookie?” he teased before turning back to Mrs. Leona. “It’s fine, we can do this.”

Mrs. Leona went through explaining the beginning portion of the routine, demonstrating the required movements and techniques to accomplish such things. At first you did each part broken up and without music and once you nailed everything at least once she decided you were ready to try and put it all together along with Peter Gabriel’s In Your Eyes.

You started to get into your position, holding Reggie’s hands in yours. Your heart was beating loudly in your ears, that the music was almost fuzzy at that point. Mrs. Leona’s counting of the beats made you snap out of your thoughts as you pulled closer to Reggie.

Love, I get so lost sometimes

Reggie’s hand trailed up to the side of your face as he cupped it gently, pressing his forehead against yours.

Days pass, and this emptiness fills my heart

As quick as he touched your face, he dropped his hand back down to your waist, dipping you down as he turned you.

When I want to run away, I drive off in my car

You managed to keep eye contact with Reggie the entire time, his blue-green eyes slightly darkening in admiration as you rose back up.

But whichever way I go, I come back to the place you are

His lips quirked up into a smile while he slid down onto his knees to the rhythm of the music.

All my instincts, they return

Following along, you almost draped yourself over Reggie as he leaned back, your hands coming to the sides of his arms, trailing down until you took his hands in yours before pulling him back up carefully.

The grand facade, so soon will burn

You placed his hands delicately on your waist tightly as you fell down into a lunge, his strong arms supporting you.

Without a voice, without my pride, I reach out from the inside.

Your breath hitched as his hands reached slightly under your shirt, just from the movement, but he didn’t seem deterred, moving you away and allowing you to run into the lift where he held your legs until you slid down against him slowly.

In your eyes, the light the heat

His hand came to hold you again just as you spun out and twirled back in, with a little more force than expected, bumping into Reggie’s chest, your lips gently brushing against his own causing every nerve in your body to burn and every muscle to lose its function.

I am complete-

You let out an audible gasp, covering your mouth with your hand. Reggie seemed equally flustered, but managed to hide it well, aside from his reddened cheeks. Mrs. Leona immediately stopped the music, jogging over to the two of you.

“What happened?” she asked, clearly confused. “The two of you were dancing so well?”

You stumbled over your words. “I, erm-” you stammered. “I think I might have landed on my foot wrong after the lift.” It wasn’t your best lie, but at this point you were desperate.

Mrs. Leona’s eyes widened. “Oh no, an injury?” she exclaimed. “Sit down, honey, I’ll get some ice from the nurse’s office.” Before you could refuse, the dance teacher was already long gone.

Reggie turned to you. “Let’s sit you down,” he suggested, pulling you down with him. “Mind if I check if it’s more than a rolled ankle?”

You shook your head repeatedly. “No no, it’s fine,” you quickly told him.

Reggie took your leg and placed it gently on top of his. “Let me,” he insisted. “If it’s really bad, we might need to ask Mrs. Leona to wrap it.” Reggie began to untie your shoelace when you jerked it back abruptly, standing up in the process.

The dark haired boy looked at you suspiciously as you rocked back and forth. “So I’m assuming you’re fine if you’re standing on it normally now,” he deadpanned. You looked down at your two feet, sheepishly kicking your left leg back.

“Ah, a miracle!” you exclaimed awkwardly. “It must have been a flash of pain or something, but it’s better now…”

Reggie frowned, standing up. “Cookie, if you want to lie to Mrs. Leona, fine by me. But you know you can’t lie to me.”

“Who says I’m lying?” you countered and Reggie rolled his eyes.

“Come on (Y/N), seriously?” Reggie looked disappointed. “First you run out of the studio and don’t come back, we had to send Alex and Bobby out to make sure you were okay and now you’re lying? What’s going on? What happened?” he pressed.

“What happened?” you said with disbelief. “Were you not just dancing with me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You… I…” you tried to get out the words, but you shook your head. “I can’t do this Reggie. I can’t do it.”

“Cookie, it’s just me,” he insisted, coming closer to you, holding your arms against your side. “I’m your friend, right? Or at least I thought I was.”

“You are!” you insisted. “I promise. It’s just there’s a lot going on and I need a second to process it,”

You were seriously starting to think he hadn’t noticed what had just happened. Maybe you were reading into it too much, maybe he was just playing it off cool to make sure you were okay. Whatever it was, you didn’t know what to think of it. All you wanted to do was go home and curl up in a tiny ball and drown out the sound of your thoughts with Tracy Chapman’s voice.

Reggie stepped away and scratched the back of his neck.

“I’ll give you some time,” he nodded and walked out to the hallway.

It seemed as though your hearts were two positive charges just constantly pushing each other, further and further away.

—

“In my opinion, I think you should just stop being so conflicted and tell him how you feel about him,” Rose suggested as she brushed her hair in front of her vanity.

You were at Rose’s house for an “emergency sleepover,” as she liked to put it. You were incredibly confused with everything going on that you needed a friend, specifically one who was reasonable, to talk to.

Sighing, you flopped backwards on Rose’s bed. “But I don’t know what I’m feeling,” you groaned tiredly. “Sometimes I want to punch him in the face, but lately, I haven’t felt that.”

“And what have you been feeling?” Rose pressed, setting her brush down and walking over to you.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought. “I don’t know,” you replied. “Fuzzy? Like the inside of my stomach are angry wasps buzzing crazily.” You sat up, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “But when he smiles...they turn into butterflies.”

“Butterflies?” Rose repeated.

You nodded, dramatically groaning as you leaned your head on her shoulders. “The happiest of butterflies. Like- when he looks at me with those stupidly pretty eyes.”

“Stupidly pretty eyes?” Rose said.

“Yes!” you fumed. “Everything about him is pretty. His eyes and his smile. Even his flannels and shoulders!”

“Shoulders?”

You looked up at Rose. “Will you stop repeating everything I’m saying?” you whined. “Say something! Give me advice! You’re the only one besides Alex that is reasonable! Because I think I’m going to do something stupid.”

Rose bit her lip to hold back a laugh. Reggie said the exact same thing to her earlier. “How stupid?”

“...Stealing Alex’s van to drive to his house, stupid.”

Rose hummed in response. “Well, that is pretty high up there on the list of things that are stupid,” she commented with a smile. “Why do you want to do something stupid? What about Reggie is making you feel this way?”

You stood up, wrapping your arms protectively around yourself. “He’s so different from when we were friends as kids,” you sighed. “But at the same time, it’s like he hasn’t changed a bit. All these mixed feelings of hating him but also missing him is stressing me out!” You turned to Rose, dropping your arms. “It’s so confusing. I feel like I don’t know if I know myself because I don’t know him. Does that… does that make sense?” you whispered.

“A little,” Rose nodded, admitting to her confusion.

“Have you known someone so long that over time you-you almost feel like you have such a part of them inside you?” you asked and didn’t really wait for an answer. “It’s been so long since I’ve really known Reggie… now it just feels like that part of me is missing because of that,” You held your hand on your chest, feeling your heart beat rapidly as you rambled. “But when Reggie’s just...the Reggie I knew, no toughness, no band, no anything...I feel like I’m whole again. T-that, I can lean on his shoulder and trust him when he says everything will be alright. And I’ll believe him. No matter all the promises he’s broken in the past, I’ll still find myself trusting him completely.”

“Why?” Rose asked in a quiet voice.

You smiled softly. “That really is the question, isn’t it?” you laughed. “Why do I continue to trust him, even though every part of my body is telling me no? Well, because I love him. He’s my best friend, no matter what. Even after our falling out, I still thought about him, still cared about him. And it’s so stupid of me, and I know I should stop...but I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Then go to him,” Rose insisted. “Please (Y/N), for the love of God,”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?” Rose pressed. “Why can’t you?”

“Because!” you only said.

Rose threw her head back, laying on her bed. “Oh my gosh, (N/N), you and Reggie are going to drive me crazy with your stubborn bullshit! I don’t understand why you can’t say anything to him? You’re his best friend! Why is it so difficult?”

“Exactly!” you exclaimed, exhausted by the yelling and frustration. “He’s my best friend! I just got my best friend back. I don’t want to risk it all because of this-this feeling! Who knows! Maybe I’m going crazy. Maybe, I’m going crazy because my friends see something that will obviously never happen between me and Reggie!”

Rose stood up. “Do not blame this on me, Luke, and Alex,” she told you, starting to lose patience. “If anything, blame it on yourself! Blame it on Reggie, and his hard head! But do not blame it on your friends who just want to help you.” Rose took a deep breath, recomposing herself. “What is the worst thing that can happen?”

Tears welled in your eyes as Rose pulled you back down to her bed, wrapping her arms around you. “Having him walk out of my life again?” you said, your voice cracking. “Hurting myself even more than I already am? Losing you, and Luke, and Bobby and Alex...Being alone all over again?” You looked up at Rose, tears freely cascading down your cheeks. “Rose, I don’t want to be alone again, please…”

“Cariña we’re not going to leave you,” Rose whispered, holding her head against yours. “But if you trust me you’ll understand why I’m telling you that it's not a bad idea to maybe talk to him and figure things out.”

“I wish I thought the same,” you sighed, savouring the feeling of Rose holding you near.

Rose pressed her lips together, deciding that the two of you were far too tired to argue any further. “Let’s sleep now, get some rest and think it over, then we’ll talk more in the morning, okay?” she suggested, taking a throw blanket and placing it over your legs.

You nodded shakily. “I think that would be best,” you agreed, tucking yourself underneath the covers.

Rose turned off the lights, finding her spot beside you.

You stared at the ceiling for a moment. “Rose?”

“Yes?”

You turned your head to face her. “You know I love you, right?”

The girl wrapped one arm around your waist. “I love you, too, (N/N).”

—

��I love you Flicka,” the words seemed to roll out of your mouth before you could stop them, but that’s how you knew they were true. your head pressed gently against his, almost refusing to look into those blue-green eyes.

Reggie's hands drifted away from the sides of your face as he stepped back and looked at you. The same cold and fearful look he carried in his eyes after you weren’t on speaking terms.

“No you don’t,” he hissed. “Stop playing these mind games. It’s only a matter of time until you fuck up and ruin everything for yourself and for everyone again.”

And without another word he turned and walked away.

Even though it was all in your head you couldn’t risk it. You wouldn’t let the world pull you apart again. you wouldn’t give him another chance to break that promise.

You woke up in a cold sweat, your stomach churning with nerves. Rose was still fast asleep and you looked over at the digital clock on her nightstand that read 2:32 A.M.

You pushed yourself up carefully, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking a breath, but as it became painfully clear you felt suffocated and needed to go out and get some air.

Reaching for your sweatshirt on the floor, you slipped it over your head before quietly standing up and leaving Rose’s door, gently shutting the door behind you as you did so.

Your first stop was the kitchen to get a glass of water, maybe the cool drink would clear your system of any unwanted feelings but you highly doubted an excess of dihydrogen monoxide would cure your of falling in love with your best friend. Sighing, you took your untouched glass of water with you to the studio, thinking that maybe you could find any solution to your problems there.

You made your way to the studio, suspicious as to why the lights were already on, but didn’t comment on it. You sat down, staring at your full glass of water.

“No jelly gummy worm sandwich tonight, Cookie?” a voice piped up from behind you.

“Holy fucking shit!” you shrieked, throwing your glass at the source of the noise.

Once the initial fear dialed down, you rubbed your eyes to see none other than a dark haired boy with a red flannel tied around his waist.

“Reggie?” you squeaked. “What are you doing here so late at night?”

He wiped the water from his face, his hair flopping back as he shot you an annoyed -but confused- glare. “The hell was that about?”

“You came here unannounced,” you shot back. “I thought I was about to be murdered, and considering what you said last sleepover, I should still be on edge.”

Reggie rolled his eyes. “Understandable.” He stepped forward with his hand outreached, only for you to fearfully stagger back. “Relax, I just forgot my songbook here.” Reggie reached for the notebook stuck between the cushions, waving it in front of your face for proof. It was red and slightly battered, and filled with loose sheets of papers sticking out.

You released your breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “I’m sorry,” you said sheepishly. You gestured to the couch. “Sit with me?”

You and Reggie sat down on the couch, silence filling the room. Your knees slightly brushed against his on the small couch, but you quickly scooted away.

Reggie glanced over at you, noticing how uneasy you looked. “What’s on your mind?” he asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

You shook your head. “It’s nothing,” you said. “A nightmare, that’s all.”

The boy raised an eyebrow, immediately detecting your lie. “Just a nightmare?” he asked. “I’ve never seen you so pale and jumpy, Cookie. You sure it was just a nightmare?”

You nodded before ultimately shaking your head with a sigh. “Do you ever wonder if...if the people you care about just up and leave? And you can’t do anything because it’s your fault?” Reggie remained silent, gesturing for you to continue. “I’m scared that those close to me will leave me.”

“Why would they leave you?” he questioned curiously.

You scoffed, drumming your fingers against your legs. “Why wouldn’t they leave me?” you asked in return. “I’m too scared to face my fears. I keep my mouth shut and bottle shit up until it explodes and affects everyone around me.”

“Cookie,” Reggie hushed, reaching out to stop our fidgeting hand by placing his on your knee. “I…” he shook his head. “I don’t think you’re the only person that it happens to,”

“Flicka,” his nickname got caught in your throat.

All you wanted was to pull him close, have him kiss your forehead and tell you those sweet beautiful lies. That everything’s going to be okay, and that he’d be by your side forever.

That he loved you.

It felt like you were having a bad allergic reaction, your throat closing up, as you wished the words to come out, but they just got bottled up and whisked away in the sea of your heart like everything else.

You couldn’t see it, but if you could take a moment, get out of your own heads you’d see his blue green eyes looking back at you with that soft mischievous sparkle they always held, only this time you would have seen all the love and admiration hidden behind them. You would have seen how much he wished he could make your pain vanish. You would have seen his heart on his sleeve. You would have seen your Reggie.

“Cookie, I’m here,” he whispered. “I’ll always be here.”

Reggie allowed you to lean your head against his shoulder, not caring at all about the tears soaking up his t-shirt. He raised his hand to your face, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, then trailing his hand down along your jawline. He tilted your head up to face his, your lips mere centimeters apart.

“Flicka,” you breathed, his eyes staring down at yours with so much more than you could ever possibly wish to describe. As he pulled closer, you felt his lips against yours. They felt like a smooth bass line in a classic jazz song, kissing him tasted like eating the best jelly and gummy worm sandwich in the world. It was by no means a perfect kiss, those were near impossible to achieve. But his slightly chapped lips molded with yours in a way that you have never felt with anyone else. The way he tilted his head, the way his lips were slightly curled upward in a smile and the way he thought you didn’t notice when he murmured I love you against your lips.

Then doubts began to flood your mind.

He doesn’t love you. It’s all a lie. He’ll leave you. Just like everyone else is your life. Then you’ll be left with no one.

Just like it’s always been.

You jerked back, gasping for air as though the wind had been knocked out of you.

“I need to go,” you whispered hurriedly.

“Cookie, wait-” Reggie lunged forward, grabbing your hands. His cheeks were flushed red as he tried to form the words in his head. “Can we talk about this-”

“(Y/N)?” you heard Rose’s voice call out. “Are you in the studio?”

You glanced back at Reggie, his face filled with desperation to talk to you. “Please,” he begged softly.

Only, you shook your head. “She can’t know you were here,” you whispered.

Reggie stiffened, hesitantly letting your hand go, but not before squeezing it. “Goodnight, Cookie.”

You winced at his saddened expression.“Night, Flicka.”

“(Y/N)?” Rose called again and you turned around to where her voice was coming from, hoping to maybe see Reggie one last time before he left, but when you turned back around once more all that was left of him there was a tattered red song book and a red flannel.

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