#that sounds so tough :// having no contact with people/no distractions for such a long time it takes a toll on you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohmyeyesmyeyes · 10 months

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PLUS ONE - m.barzal

part one: sam & julia

warnings: alcohol, vomiting, hangovers, swearing, shit ex, wedding, breaking and entering, little bit of angst

plus one masterlist

“Remember that time we had a sleepover in your basement and—”

You rolled your eyes, happily accepting the shot put under your nose as you knocked it back.

God, you hated wedding speeches. Very rarely were they entertaining, and more often than not, you found yourself cringing at the thinly veiled jealousy exuded by the poor people subjected to give the speeches when they said one final goodbye to the friend they’d known since high school before they were inevitably swept up by the trials and tribulations of married life.

That downright made you feel ill; sure, there were different types of wedding speeches, but, and hypocritically, the ones you hated the most were the awkward ones, where someone hadn’t come prepared at all, and stuttered and paused as they tried to think of something to say to satisfy the uncomfortable blanket of silence that inevitably would have draped itself across the entire room. Those kinds of speeches were drab, and they were somehow made even worse by the random questions thrown out there. Like this guy, for example.

To say you’d known the bride since college you could safely say you’d never seen this person in your life, and probably for good reason, because his lack of organisational skills were astounding to the point that the only way you could distract yourself from it was to blindly accept the shots from your ever-so-gracious, and probably just as tipsy, plus one.

But this guy delivering the speech? His hands were shaking, and you could see sweat dripping down his temples and shining on his forehead, and whilst you did feel a tad of sympathy for him (because speeches are tough anyway), you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed in the way he kept flicking between two sheets of folded paper – hands shaking and looking nothing short of caught.

He’d been doing the question thing for longer than it really needed to be done for.

Sometimes people underestimated the power and effectiveness of the short-but-sweet speeches – ones that probably meant a lot more to the married couple than the disjointed rawlings that almost made it seem as though the person delivering said speech was trying to prove a point. What the point was, you had no idea, but there was definitely something to be said about the unreasonably long sequence of ‘do you remember…’, ‘one time we…’.

“I’m so fucking bored.” You could tell it was meant to be a whisper, one strictly reserved for your ears only, and you would have put a hand over your mouth to smother the laugh you felt bubbling up – if it weren’t for the fact that your entire table heard exactly what he’d just said.

Almost as soon as those words had left his mouth, you felt the weight of seven disapproving stares burn holes through the side of your face, and if it were possible, through the man himself. You could almost feel the heat radiating off his skin as though he’d been pierced by a hundred burning lasers.

Mat seemed oblivious – either that or he was promptly and purposefully ignoring the sudden attention, attention which he had vowed to stray from. In his words, ‘I want a hockey-free night, and ‘Tony’ sounds pretty gangster’.

So, even though his place card said ‘Mat’, in his slightly tipsy state before the speeches began, he’d confided that he was to be called ‘Tony’ for the night. You’d simply patted him on the arm and obliged anyway, although you knew the only way to prevent yourself from actually calling him Mat was to just forgo calling him a name entirely.

So when you felt the table’s attention return back to the poor best man now wrapping up his speech, you hid a smile behind your hand. He was right, it was boring. And you were also dreading what would happen after the speeches, because you’d accidentally made direct eye contact with an ex of yours before you’d sat down, and the look in his eye had you predicting he’d want to talk to you before the night ended.

There was a smattering of applause, and before you knew it, chairs were scraping along the floor and people were beginning to stand for the first dance. You attempted to stand – it was courteous considering you used to be somewhat friends with the bride – and it was polite, and honestly, you did want to see it. It was tradition, and you knew that it was really the first chance the couple had at actually realising they were married.

You loved watching their faces, even if they were a hint bashful at being under everyone’s watchful eye.

However, you couldn’t do that this time. People were lined up along gaps between the tables, and unfortunately that meant you couldn’t even push your chair out and stand up to get a glimpse over everyone’s heads, so you stayed with Mat, who’d gone back to sipping his Prosecco.

“Are you gonna be okay if I go and talk to some people for a bit?” You whispered, ears catching the soft melody of the music over the chatter of the crowd.

Mat blinked, turning to face you, a question written in his features, “I’ll be fine. Who’re you gonna talk to?”

His eyes were glazed, and his cheeks were flushed. He’d shrugged off his blazer a while ago, and you knew him well enough to know he was well on his way to being a little more than tipsy tonight. Unfortunately for you, that probably meant that he’d be an absolute nightmare to get to sleep.

“I’m gonna have to talk to Logan.” You admitted quietly, watching Mat carefully.

He rolled his eyes, handing you another shot – not successfully hiding his distaste for the situation. His gaze was stern and his mouth was pulled into a frown, “As in Logan that–”

“Yes.” Your tone was harsh, and Mat leant back in his chair, his jaw ticking as he turned back to the crowd. You handed him the shot he’d given you, and he downed it, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

You leant back in your chair, mind racing. Mat had always had a certain displeasure for Logan – more specifically than any other ex he’d known – and he wasn’t exactly your favourite ex by any means, but there was something about Logan that got Mat ticking and his temper flaring. As far as you were aware, the two had never met; you’d been dating Logan around the same time you’d met Mat, but before you’d had the chance to introduce them both, Logan ended things.

Never said why, never gave a reason, and if you were being honest, you were kind of curious as to how this little conversation with him was going to go.

But to satisfy some of Mat’s not-so-subtle uncomfortability, you’d made the split-decision to negotiate with him.

“If I make eye contact with you and blink twice, I’d like it if you could get me out of there.” Then, just as an afterthought, “Or if you’d prefer it, you can sit here and stew in your irrational hatred for the guy.”

“It’s rational–”

“So tell me.”

“Not yet, okay?” He paused, sighing, “But I’ll keep an eye on you.”

You lent an elbow on the table, resting your head against your fist as you looked at him. He was irritated, and it was almost immediately after he’d finished speaking that Logan stopped behind him and a shadow fell across his spot on the table that his concern turned almost instantaneously into a scowl. You sighed, frustrated with both Logan’s appearance and Mat’s refusal to give you any semblance of the truth, so you neglected to pat your friend on the shoulder when you walked back.

It was petty, but it wasn’t exactly your job to console him at that moment – least of all when it would be you talking to him.

Logan surprisingly led you to the dancefloor – though with the way his eyes kept flicking over your shoulder, you had an inkling that it was the lingering threat of Mat burning holes through him that prompted Logan to choose a place more in the public eye.

You offered him a tight smile when you both awkwardly held each other, careful not to get too close. His hands were warm on your back, and you noticed that he made sure to touch you where your dress covered your skin.

The tension between you both was odd, and it only seemed to break when an elderly couple – both wrapped up in their own foxtrot of sorts – accidentally knocked into you both. It had you both smiling at the couple, mutterings of ‘no problem’, and then the tension seemed to alleviate somewhat.

“How have you been?” You asked, unable to avoid catching a glimpse of Mat snatching a glass of Prosecco off a tray and down the entire thing in one go. Your expression dimmed slightly, and you had to cut your attention back to Logan, who was looking off to the side, how mouth slightly agape – almost sheepish.

“I’ve been good, yeah. I’m actually getting married next year, which is exciting.” His cheeks flushed, and you couldn’t help but crack a small smile at his clear adoration.

He might have been a pretty slack boyfriend, but you were still incredibly happy for him.

“Congratulations, who’s the lucky person?” Your grin widened as he looked to his feet bashfully, trying to mask the smile on his face.

Logan was never someone who openly admitted to wanting to settle down. Even when he was with you he’d flirt with the occasional girl; it was part of his personality, one that never dwindled even throughout the whole of college. After the breakup, he’d approach you in parties if you happened to see each other, and he’d still attempt to flirt with you – there was no end goal in sight with him – you always saw it more as a joke than anything. Truthfully, you assumed he was just a charming personality, although there were glimpses of something that always rested behind that flawless smile and those dazzling blue eyes.

You could imagine that falling in love with someone took him by surprise.

“Her name’s Rory, we were on and off in my last year of college, got back together two years ago and I proposed in December.” He nodded wistfully, as if recounting the moment, “What about you?” He nodded in Mat’s direction.

When you followed his eyes, you saw Mat had moved from his previous seat. He now held a new glass of Prosecco in his hand, and was sitting next to a little boy on the floor, just under the draping of the tablecloth. He was still watching you, and when he caught both your and Logan’s gaze, you shook your head in his direction, answering his implied question.

You saw his hazel gaze slide over to Logan momentarily, before he turned back to the kid, smiling at whatever they were handing him.

He was pretty – that was a fact you weren’t aware of, but Logan’s suggestion was…not correct.

“Oh, he’s just a friend. I met him around the time we broke up, actually.” You answered awkwardly.

But Logan wasn’t looking at you, in fact, his brows were furrowed and his eyes were fixed intently on Mat, a flicker of recognition flashing through his features.

“Is that Mat Barzal?” He asked, his eyes flicking down to you momentarily.

You stuttered, feigning confusion, “Who?”

“Mat Barzal? The hockey player for the Islanders?” Logan arched a brow, disbelieving of your naivety.

You nodded slowly, trying to figure out how you could spin the conversation without making you look ridiculous, “Oh, him…He actually gets that a lot.” You felt your cheeks flush, the slight haze of the alcohol beginning to kick in; you were surprised it took so long to take effect, and because of your sudden panic and hesitation, not wanting to out Mat when he’d previously stated he wanted to be called Tony for the night, you found yourself manoeuvring Logan, making sure his back was to Mat as you willed him to make eye contact with you.

He was still chatting to the little boy, gladly accepting a flower that must have been from a table somewhere, and you could tell from the slump in his shoulders and the way he’d had to half lean against the table leg that he was a little drunker than you’d initially guessed. So much so that, even through Logan talking, you watched as Mat brushed the tablecloth out of his face, before faltering, his hand going to stroke the material with incredible curiosity.

The delighted face he made as he searched for you in the crowd of dancers almost had you laughing out loud. If it weren’t for the slight fear you had with Logan’s insistent questioning.

“I never knew you were friends with Mat Barzal–” Logan carried on, oblivious to your rising sense of anxiety, one that only seemed to decline when Mat finally caught your eyes, and you blinked twice – purposefully.

It took a moment for him to realise what was happening, before the smile on his face faded a little and his hand untangled itself from the tablecloth as he wobbled to his feet, incredibly mindful of the little boy still playing with the flowers.

“Well…” you stalled, swallowing nervously and watching with careful eyes as Mat somehow managed to wind himself through the crowd to get to you, flashing people apologetic smiles if he bumped into them, “Actually…”

You saw him reach you a couple of feet away, and you didn’t let yourself relax until he was standing next to you, a comfortable – noticeably fake – smile plastered on his face. It was polite nonetheless, but he wasn’t looking at you.

“Hey, man,” Mat started talking, and you slowly pulled away from Logan, who’d frozen, his jaw dropped in sheer awe, “Is it okay if I just take Y/N off your hands for a bit? I need her to look at these tablecloths with me.”

You had to look away. Mat may have looked physically sober, but his speech was slurred and his cheeks were rosy and he couldn’t keep his eyes still when he looked at Logan.

You snuck a peek at Logan, who’d seemingly regained a little consciousness and his cheeks were flushing with embarrassment.

You always admired Mat’s patience and tolerance for his fans, and even then it didn’t seem to dwindle when he was faced with the man he clearly had some sort of hatred for, and was also less in control of his own actions considering the fact he was drunk off his face. That tight smile was still plastered on his face, and he swayed a little on the spot, forcing you to reach a hand out to stabilise his arm.

He didn’t even flinch.

Even so, despite the fact that it took a while for Logan to compose himself, his eyes very obviously going from your hand on Mat’s arm, then all the way down his figure, Mat remained completely calm and patient. In your grip, however, you could feel some awkward tension in his arms; he remained rigid, as if expecting some sort of backlash to the interruption, though that may have just been his awareness of his lack of stability, and in combating that appearance, he’d purposefully tensed to remain on his own two feet.

Logan stuttered, a hand going to rest on his own chest as he glanced back at you, almost remembering you were standing there and Mat was, in fact, asking for you in that moment, “I mean, sure – I’m Logan, by the way.” He held a hand out for Mat to shake.

Tony or Mat? The ultimate question.

After a few seconds, you furrowed your brows, looking at Mat only to see his eyes were fixed on Logan’s wavering hand, a conflict evident in his eyes. You squeezed his arm, and he lifted his hand to shake Logan’s.

It was slow, and every movement was deliberate, and you couldn’t tell if you were expecting to find something or overthinking the entire thing, but you swore Logan’s hand turned white for a split second.

“I’m Tony,” Mat began, removing his arm from your grip to take your hand instead. He was still looking at Logan, and you could sense the challenge between the two men as Logan blinked, obviously confused. He looked back to you for a split second, and you shrugged, offering him no justification. It was clear to you and it was obviously clear to Mat that Logan knew who he was, and in that brief moment that Mat let Tony land in the silence between them, you could tell he was waiting for Logan to challenge him, “nice to meet you.”

Logan nodded, swallowing harshly, and you couldn’t help but feel a hint of sorrow for him – but at the end of the day, it was inevitable that Mat took precedence in your mind.

“You too.” Logan mumbled, before turning to you, a grimace of a smile etched on his face, “Well, it was nice to catch up; I’m glad you’re well and happy, but I can see you’ve got tablecloths to inspect with Tony.” He nodded, carefully avoiding Mat’s eyeline as his focus was kept entirely on you.

You nodded, plastering a smile on your face for nostalgia’s sake, even if you were slightly uncomfortable with how the interaction had turned out, “You too, I hope you have a lovely wedding, and send Rory my congratulations.”

“I will, thank you.” At this, Logan’s grimace seemed to soften slightly.

“See you around.”

“You too.”

And then Mat was dragging you back through the crowd, this time not as careful to prevent himself bumping into anyone as he was before, and you had to pull his hand back a little to get him to slow down.

When you finally reached his prior spot, he dropped your hand and sat on the floor, this time almost entirely hidden underneath the table.The kid from before had disappeared, and there were significantly less people around – the crowd had dispersed and people were beginning to say their goodbyes.

It was pretty late.

You didn’t follow him, instead opting to stand with your arms crossed, attempting to at least be a little annoyed with his behaviour for Logan’s sake, but with the way he was acting – high out of his mind – you couldn’t help but break out a small smile. He’d gone back to playing with the tablecloth, and he was a few inches from falling onto the floor, his eyes so glazed over with no trace of his previous tension evident in his frame. It almost seemed like he’d forgotten the entire interaction altogether.

Neither of you said anything for a while, and it wasn’t until Mat straightened up under the table and gently patted your leg with a frown that almost mimicked a child’s that you realised he’d been waiting for you to sit down with him.

You sighed, hiding your smile at his antics, and joined him under the table.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, lazily turning his head to look at you as he rested his head on his elbow. His eyes were comically sad, and it sent a pang of guilt resonating through you.

He’d been looking sad quite a bit lately – it was part of the reason you’d invited him to this wedding, to get his mind off the breakup, but a small part of you regretted asking him. Surely inviting him to a wedding after a breakup would only break his heart even more? Remind him of what he could have had?

You shook your head, “I could never be mad at you.”

He nodded, seemingly happy with the response, but there wasn’t a smile on his face to support that.

“I overheard him at a restaurant once,” he started, huffing a breath after pulling his eyes away from yours. You furrowed your brows, not entirely sure what he was talking about, but not wanting to interrupt his flow, “I didn’t know it was him until I saw you clearing out his stuff from your dorm–”

Oh.

He was talking about Logan. Even the tone of his voice had you on edge – he was angry, and with that came a sense of foreboding.

“–I was with some friends, and they were sitting behind us, and…you should have heard some of the things they were saying, even Logan.” He sighed, not daring to look at you, “They were talking about women like they were…objects, like their sole purpose was to be on this earth for their pleasure–” He stopped talking, and you saw his face crumple, visibly uncomfortable as he recalled whatever was plaguing his mind, “It was so vulgar. It was horrible, and I guess one of them must have said something about someone we knew, because Jamie snapped and yelled at them and the next thing I knew, Jamie was socking him in the face and all five of us were brawling with the others. I remember seeing Logan’s photo in your room afterwards and I was glad you guys broke up.” He laughed bitterly, “I know if you guys hadn't, I would have been scared for you – and guy is getting married?” He turned to you, complete disbelief dripping from his face.

You nodded.

“Fucking hell.”

There wasn’t really much to say. Your mind was undoubtedly reeling with the new onslaught of rather horrible information, and a part of you did wonder if he was only telling you this because he was drunk and he was still thinking about Logan after the short conversation. But when you thought about it, Logan having those views about women wasn’t all surprising. There were comments he’d made in your relationship that had you pausing and pulling faces at the time, but you brushed them off, half hoping he was joking in your youthful naivety.

It put a lot of things into perspective for you.

“Thank you for defending us.” You whispered, tilting your head towards him.

“Shouldn’t have had to yefend dou.” He slurred, blinking upon realising what he’d just said.

You laughed softly, despite the subject, “I know. But there’s always going to be people like that, and not many would have stood up against what they were saying in the first place, so thank you.”

“Shouldn’t have given him the time of day.” He shook his head, beginning to sulk, and though you knew he’d probably chastise himself over what he did and didn’t do, you let him for a while, simply rubbing a hand against his back.

“Considering what you knew, I thought you handled it very well.”

“I had to,” he threw a hand up in the air, shifting himself so his head was leaning against your shoulder, “If I’d have blown up, something would have happened with my career. I wanted to, but…”

“It’s okay.” You rested your head on top of his.

You sat like that for a while, you people watching from your hiding space.

Then Mat’s breathing changed and you felt him relax against you, and you knew it was time to get back to the hotel. You hesitated waking him, but knew he’d probably need to throw up at some point, and it would be more comfortable if he was sleeping in his bed.

You dragged a hand through his hair, gently scratching to wake him up. The trick for waking a drunk, sleepy Mat Barzal was slowly. If he woke up in a fright, he’d spend a while trying to fight his way out of a dizzy spell, and it had taken a few goes to really find the right way to wake him up; stroking his hair seemed to be the most effective, with the least amount of side-effects.

You felt him begin to stir, a sleepy sigh escaping his lips.

“Careful.” You whispered, watching as his eyelashes fluttered and he tensed, slowly lifting his head from your shoulder, groaning as he blinked rapidly.

“How long was I out for?” He asked, and you saw his eyes wobble before he shut them entirely. He was still drunk, but the motion of moving into a vertical position after being somewhat horizontal sent his head spinning.

“Only about ten minutes or so.” You answered, moving to shuffle out from under the table, before turning around and holding a hand out for him to grab on to, “Come on, you need to sleep.”

He opened his eyes, somewhat blindly grasping for your hand and using it as leverage to pull himself out from under the table. There weren’t many people around anymore, so you had no trouble leaving the tent, one of Mat’s arms draped across your shoulders. You had to stop every so often, Mat breathing heavily through his nose to keep a bout of vomit down, but you managed to get him up the stairs and to his hotel room.

“You gonna be okay?” You asked, leading him to his bed. Your room was just next door, and you knew if he knocked you’d gladly run in and help if he needed it, but all his stuff was here, and you were both tired from the late night and the events that had come with it. A full day of socialising and answering personal questions asked by strangers was exhausting.

“Should be.” He answered, face down on top of the duvet.

You didn’t answer him, but moved to the mini fridge in the corner of the room to take out a bottle of water and some painkillers for the morning, placing them on his bedside table.

“Right, well, I’m next door. Knock if you need anything.” You reminded him, patting him gently on the back.

It felt almost inhumane leaving him to suffer by himself, but you knew he wouldn’t hesitate to ask if he needed help. That gave you some peace of mind at least, and you weren’t about to impose yourself in his room when he might not even need much assistance.

You went back to your room, and it was only after you’d finished in the bathroom and managed to get somewhat comfy in your own bed that you heard a sound that sent your heart into a frenzy of panic.

There was a click that sounded remarkably like the lock on your door, and before you could turn the light on and overthink it, your door was opening and Mat was walking through carrying a bottle of water and looking worse for wear.

“Jesus Christ.” You whispered harshly, refraining from throwing a pillow at him, “You scared me! How did you even get in here?”

He blinked, coming over to sit on your side of the bed, looking a little unwell if you said so yourself. There was a tinge of green to the pallor of his skin, and a thin film of sweat across his forehead, “I stole one of your keys earlier.” He said, breathlessly.

You swallowed, a sense of dread prickling your stomach at his symptoms. You got out from under your covers, placing a hand to his forehead. You weren’t cold by any means, but when you placed your hand against his forehead, he leant into it, relishing in the relief you provided. His eyes shut and he sighed.

“Are you okay?” You asked, concerned.

He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly clamped it shut when his body jolted. You barely had three seconds to spin a single thought together, and the closest thing was the ice bucket, so you lunged for it, just shoving it in front of his face quick enough for him to empty the contents of his stomach into it.

You winced, trying not to think too much about what was happening, and he hunched forwards, trying to jam his face into the bucket, “Hey, you don’t want to get covered in it, get your face out.” You scolded gently, and he lifted his head slightly, his hand going to clutch your forearm for support.

It was bound to happen, you’d decided. You lost track of how much he’d drunk, and you couldn't say you’d been with him the majority of the night, so you didn’t have any realistic guesses as to how much alcohol he’d consumed, but puking wasn’t exactly an unpredictable end to the night.

His breathing was ragged, and every so often you’d catch a groan of pain as his stomach twisted.

“You’re okay.” You whispered into his hair, rubbing a hand down his back. “Just let it all out.”

A couple of minutes later, the vomiting had stopped somewhat.

Mat lifted his head up, trying not to gip when he caught a glance of the contents of the bucket, and unscrewed the cap on the bottle of water he’d brought with him.

“Better?” You asked.

He nodded, greedily gulping it down.

“Can I clean and empty it now or do you feel like you’re gonna need it again?”

He shook his head.

You pushed yourself from the bed, turned the light on in the bathroom and poured the contents into the toilet, before flushing it and placing the bucket in the bath – immediately turning your attention away from it and blasting the shower on.

When you made it back to your bed, Mat had curled up under the covers on your warm spot, his back turned to the middle of the bed. He was still awake, and when you placed the bucket on the bedside table next to his side, he attempted a smile.

“Feeling better?” You asked, trying not to smirk when he huffed and pulled the duvet closer up the bed.

“Just say it. I know you want to.”

You grinned, climbing into the other side of the bed, “Well if it isn’t the consequences of your own actions.”

You snuggled down, turning off the light by the bed, slightly smug but also kind of feeling a little bit bad for how miserable he must be feeling.

Just as you were about to drift off, a voice cut through the darkness, jolting you awake.

“Can we cuddle?”

You screwed up your face, half amused yet slightly taken aback by the question. Sure, you’d cuddled Mat occasionally before, mainly when he’d had a bad game or was feeling a bit sorry for himself, but it felt weird doing it in a bed with the lights off.

It felt like the territory that friends should not venture into.

“No.” You whispered.

Clearly that wasn’t the answer Mat was hoping for, because you felt the sheets move around you and a waft of air hit your face. When you opened your eyes you were almost nose to nose with the Canadian.

His hair was a mess, you could see that in the dark, and his eyes were shining.

“Why not?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“Friends cuddle all the time. We’ve done it before.”

“Yeah, in daylight and not in a bed. It’s weird.”

“What’s weird about it?”

“Everything. Also, you’re still drunk and you literally just threw up. You have vomit breath.”

“I’ll clean my teeth.”

“Please go to sleep.”

“But I want to cuddle.”

“Go clean your teeth.”

He get out of bed, whisper-cackling at managing to wear you down so quickly, and you attempted to go back to sleep, knowing if he saw you were asleep he wouldn’t even go anywhere near you, but the two minutes seemed to go past incredibly quickly and before you knew it, he was climbing back into bed, looking at you expectantly.

He was facing you, a fact that had your brain stalling a little.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“What are you doing?” He shot back, pulling a face.

“I’m wondering why you’re looking at me like that.”

“Because you’re not turning around?”

You let out a breath, almost scoffing at his insinuation, “I am not turning around.”

“Is it because you don’t want to deal with morning wood?”

“What the fuck, no.”

“Or maybe you’re scared there will be no morning wood? Because maybe if I don’t get morning wood then you’d think you weren’t attractive – which you are – but if I get morning wood, then you’d think I was attracted to you–”

“Stop saying morning wood. And that’s not the reason, okay? I couldn’t care less if you got a boner – and by the way, I am amazed at the way your mind works, really. But I am not letting you spoon me.” You narrowed your eyes.

“Why?” You could almost hear his offended tone slip through.

“You know what? Forget the whole cuddling thing, I’ve changed my mind.”

Mat threw his face into the pillow, groaning dramatically.

“You don’t like cuddling?” He asked, almost appalled at the idea.

“Not with you.”

He gasped, before trying to shuffle closer to you, seeking some heat since he’d left the bed and been exposed to cold air.

“Hey, hey. Don’t cross the boundary.” You pushed yourself up, drawing a line from where the two pillows met in the middle of the bed, preventing him from moving forward any further.

“Why, what would happen if I did?”

“You’d be entering a different season and if you stay too long your wings would break. You’d have a broken wing, Mathew. Nobody wants that.”

You practically heard him roll his eyes at your exaggerating, “Is that a Tinkerbell reference?” You nodded, “How old are you? And it’s just cuddling. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Oh, Jeez, I don’t know, maybe you could puke in my face and I could choke on your vomit?”

There was a beat of silence, and you could feel the weight of a sarcastic stare poking holes in your face, “Be fucking for real right now–”

A short burst of laughter escaped you, and you could hear Mat chuckling a little at your reaction. The silence was short lived – as it always seemed to be when you were talking to Mat at night.

“What about tickle-scratching?” He whispered, just as you turned your back on him.

You pulled a face, “What the fuck is that?” You turned your head slightly over your shoulder just in time to see a hand reach out towards you.

“It’s where we, like, scratch each other’s backs in a gentle way,” he demonstrated, his hand indeed going to scratch your shoulder very gently, as though he was afraid you’d shoot the idea down. You definitely were, but your curiosity as to where he was going with this was winning you over, “Not in a weird way, just like…” He trailed off, his hand still gently scratching your skin.

It was a little weird, but you couldn’t deny that the action sent shivers down your spine. It was a nice feeling, a little strange – it made you feel like a cat or something, but it felt weirdly relieving.

“What?” You exclaimed, beginning to tease him a little through his still-drunken haze.

Where the fuck had he gotten that from?

He groaned once more, this time ripping his hand off you and rolling over onto his side of the bed, his back turned to you with a flourish. You did briefly wonder how he hadn’t made himself dizzy with all that throwing around and sharp turns of direction, but you spent most of your energy trying to smother your giggles behind your hand.

You tried not to move the mattress, but when you felt him turn around, undoubtedly confused as to the shaking, you cleared your throat, and spun back around. You scooted over the line of demarcation, risking a broken wing, and wrapped an arm around his waist, making yourself comfortable as he grasped onto your hand and you settled your forehead against his back.

To say he’d been seeking some bodyheat barely minutes ago, Mat was boiling. In fact, you didn’t know how the thought of seeking human contact had even occurred, because that level of warmth would surely just make him uncomfortable? It was like snuggling a heater.

“Leg.” He whispered, and you rolled your eyes, complying anyway as you slotted your leg between his, further adding intricacy to your entanglement.

“Do you just want me to completely lay on you or are you good now?” You asked, barely bothering to hide your deadpan tone.

“Actually–”

“Shut up.”

It had barely been five minutes and you could feel yourself hanging precariously on the brink of sleep — brain switching off and yourself being consumed by the inevitability of morning — when Mat huffed, startling you as you briefly tightened your hold on him.

The action had your entire body jerking, heart pounding awfully in your chest and a short breath expelling from your mouth. Only for Mat to groan and fold in on himself.

The hand that had been enclosed around yours shot south and in the sudden movement you pushed yourself away from him and reached across to turn the light on, undoubtedly concerned. Your first thought was that he’d been sick again, but the light quickly illuminated a scene that, for a man, could only mean one thing.

His face was screwed up, half plastered into the pillow beneath his cheek, and both his hands were cupping the bulge in his boxers. His entire body had gone taught and when you touched his shoulder, attempting to roll him over somewhat, he let out a pained groan that bordered dangerously on the pornographic scale.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” You asked, slightly appalled, each ounce of sleep shot completely from your system.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, waiting impatiently for him to respond.

“Answer m—”

“You kneed me in the fucking balls, you bitch.” He fake cried, a hand slapping on his forehead as his other still clung to his dick.

You blinked, half expecting him to say he was joking. When that didn’t happen, you let out a loud laugh, hand going over your mouth as consideration for your neighbours managed to sneak through your brain.

“Don’t laugh at me.” He pleaded, fingers pinching his nose rather dramatically, which only seemed to make the entire situation even funnier in your mind, “It really hurts. I can feel my children withering inside me.”

That had your laugh breaking through the shield of your hand, and you had to bury your face in your pillow to muffle the sound. Mat was a funny guy, mostly unintentionally — like his actions; his unfiltered and unmanaged facial expressions when he sees someone pick something up off the floor and eat it (even immediately after they’d dropped it); his inability to listen to Waterloo by ABBA when driving because it ‘is very overwhelming’; or the things he says that you just know slip out of his mouth the very second he thinks it and then instantly regrets it. Your point is, Mat Barzal is hilarious in an endearing way, mostly because he doesn’t even realise just how amusing he is to watch out of the corner of your eye; he’s weird like that.

So when he says that, you feel as though your entire reaction is completely justified because it’s just so wacky and damn honest that it startles you entirely.

When you calm yourself down, tears resting in your eyes, and turn your face on the pillow to look at him, your cheeks aching from smiling, he’s looking at you oddly.

Softly. With mild curiosity. As though he’s just smiling unconsciously and a little confused at why exactly you were reacting to him like that.

His eyebrows were furrowed, but his eyes were soft and you knew if he’d have covered the rest of his face you would have been able to know he was smiling just from the little crinkles gathered at the corner of his eyes. But the rest of his face was visible, and he was smiling that smile where his mouth was turned down — an upside-down smile, where he was trying to smother the bright grin on his face as best as he could.

You lived for those Mat smiles because it meant he wasn’t aware of how his face was presenting itself. It was Raw Mat, not having to worry about what everyone would think of the way he looked or reacted.

And with the soft glow of your light, you caught yourself, not for the first time, wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

The first time you’d done that was when he’d dragged himself out of his dorm on your birthday, after playing a brutal match he’d lost, body worn out and so, so tired you were afraid he’d fall asleep standing up, and turned up for you. His hair had been slightly damp from the shower, and his eyes were bloodshot with dark bags, and he’d smiled at you sleepily, given you a homemade cake and it was immediately after he’d said ‘I’m always gonna show up for you’ that you’d wondered what it would be like to just kiss him then and there, in all his adorable fatigue.

Mat was just soft, and probably the cutest and hottest person you’d ever met and known. And you’d not loved him more than you had in that moment when he was looking at you in that way, completely accepting of who you were, and loving you just as you were.

You’d never really felt that comfortable around anyone.

“What?” You found yourself asking.

His expression flickered, and something seemed to sober him up a little. His tongue swiped out to wet his lips, and for a second it did cross your mind that maybe he might have been thinking about kissing you too, in a friend-way (because friends did that, right? Just to know that they were definitely meant to be friends and were soulmates in the platonic way, not the other way), but then he frowned and started trying to pick a piece of fluff off from the sheets.

You ducked your head slightly, trying to catch his eye.

“If you tell me what you’re thinking, I’ll let you cuddle me this time.” He didn’t react, and you felt a sordid pang of regret, “But only if you want to.”

His mouth lifted slightly. You took it as a win.

You waited patiently for a while, fighting and losing against the exhaustion that was beginning to claim you, but then he lifted his head up.

“I just feel like everyone I know is getting married.”

Oh. It was one of those sleepovers.

You swallowed, your arm going under your pillow and poking back out the other end, playing with the ends of Mat’s bed head.

You knew he was still drunk, that maybe this vulnerability was spurred on only by the confidence of the alcohol in his system.

“Not everyone.” You reassured.

It felt limp, and you didn’t even believe yourself. Mostly because you also knew what he was talking about, because you’d spent a few sleepless nights agonising over that fact, that maybe it was too late for you.

It kind of felt like a party everyone you know had been invited to but not you.

It was everywhere, like the worst kind of sickness.

Love. Marriage.

Kids.

Perhaps it was the kids comment after you’d kneed him that had him all pensieve and reflective all of a sudden. In any other situation that assumption would have made you smile, but truthfully, it was difficult to distract yourself from the dread that had settled itself in your chest.

“Feels like everyone.” He mumbled.

His mouth did that thing that he tended to do when he was unsure about something. It wasn’t a pout as such, but it vaguely resembled the expression of a kicked puppy, and you felt your previous elation dim rapidly. Your jaw clenched.

“Yeah.”

At your whisper of agreement, his head snapped up, and for some reason, the heat and sheer level of understanding behind his eyes had you reaching behind you to turn the light off, because you couldn’t stand the intensity of his gaze. It felt like you were being picked apart and put through an x-ray machine, like the ones in airports, but instead of suitcases it felt as though he was x-raying your entire brain.

“Are you jealous?” You whispered, slightly ashamed of your question.

“Yeah.”

There was a prick of relief.

“Of what?”

He didn’t hesitate when he answered plainly, “That I’ll never find someone I love as much as some of them love each other.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing he wouldn’t see how that vulnerable admission would have pained you. You could have said that ‘of course you will’, but that kind of reassurance never sat well with Mat – he wanted honesty, definites.

“You’re a very lovable person, and anyone who doesn’t realise how incredible you are off the ice is a complete fuckwit.” You mumbled, but upon hearing silence, continued, “Over half of marriages end in divorce, and a hundred percent of divorces are a result of marriages, so maybe it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” You were beginning to smile by the end of it, through no feat apart from the fact that what you were saying, whilst true, was a ridiculous notion of trying to encourage him to crack a smile whilst simultaneously easing his doubts.

You knew you were right, even if he didn’t, because Mat was the most lovable person you’d ever met. There was something endearing about him at first, his clever mumbles under his breath when he was surrounded by strangers, but from then on, he’d only continued to grow on you.

It was just a shame Shiv hadn’t figured that out before she broke up with him a couple of weeks ago.

Nevertheless, your comment seemed to have worked, because his eyes briefly closed as his mouth twitched upwards. It wasn’t his usual cheeky grin, but it would settle for now.

___

The breakfast buffet was packed full of stumbling, hungover adults, blinking wearily and not-so-subtly wincing at each chink of cutlery against porcelain plates. One of them was sitting opposite you, his head resting in his palm – which, every now and again, kept slipping either with a lack of real effort and energy or due to fatigue and slips in and out of consciousness. His plate was full of eggs and toast, his glass filled with orange juice, and apart from the unfair ‘I just got out of bed’ messy hairdo he’d got going on, Mat was wholly and unashamedly hungover.

He’d woken up once in the night and you had to shove the wine bucket back under his face, but it seemed only one of you was able to recollect that event, and it was you that was paying for it. It wouldn’t have been that much of a disruption if he hadn’t have spent twenty minutes dry heaving, claiming “I’m gonna–” every three seconds and if it weren’t for the fact that you’d made yourself climb out of bed to wash out said bucket again just in case, you wouldn’t be paying for such…exhaustion.

The only win out of the entire thing was that he was having to deal with a murderous headache, a swirling stomach, dizziness and travel sickness from walking – and you got to watch it all with some amount of amusement because you had warned him not to drink too much, and he was paying for his actions in real time.

You’d finished your breakfast a while ago, and had resorted to scrolling on your phone, but the sight in front of you was slowly getting your attention. Despite the hilarity of the situation, you were able to sympathise to some extent, because Mat had taken care of you on multiple occasions, so with the next gentle put-down of cutlery and the droop of his head, eyelashes indicating he’d fallen asleep again, you put your phone down on the table.

“Mat?” You whispered, mindful of his aching head. There was no response.

After snapping a quick picture, you reached a hand forwards, to clasp around the wrist clutching the fork tightly in his hand. He was warm, the t-shirt he was wearing clearly not doing enough to cool him down.

“Mathew?” You tried again, a little louder, taking the fork out of his hand. He stirred at the movement, lifting his head and blinking blearily. His eyes were red, and his skin was a little paler, lacking the usual flush.

He first glanced at the plate of eggs, then clenched his jaw and breathed heavily through his nostrils, the simple reminder of a plate of food making him nauseous, “Yeah?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You gotta eat the eggs.” You urged, picking up the knife and cutting the toast, making sure to scoop some eggs onto it, “They’re good for hangovers.”

His nostrils flared, and he crossed his arms, looking somewhere to the left of you as you raised the forkful up, “I think I’m going to be sick.” He muttered, resorting to sipping a mouthful of orange juice.

You stifled a smile at his blatant disgust, “You don’t have to eat it all.” Nothing. Fucking stubborn. “Look, I won’t let you leave this table until you’ve eaten at least half of it, and if you eat half of it, I’ll give you my eyemask, headphones and travel pillow on the drive back.”

His eyes slowly slid over to you, ensuring not to travel too fast out of fear he’d become dizzy, and you could tell he was considering your offer. He glanced between the fork, then to you, and after several repetitions of that action, you’d concluded that if you pushed the fork a little closer to his face, there wouldn’t be an issue in him accepting the food. So you did just that, and with few gags he managed to finish off at least three quarters of the plate.

It wasn’t until you were fifteen minutes into driving, Mat with his head against the window, eyes covered with your mask, wearing your headphones and his cap, that either one of you spoke.

“Are you going to Lisa and Mike’s wedding?” He mumbled, breath momentarily fogging up the glass. His words cut through the stream of music you had going, and part of you startled at the sudden interruption, having been under the impression that he’d immediately gone to sleep.

It wasn’t until he lifted the eyemask off and slid the headphones off that you managed to gather yourself, answering him with a hurried, “Yes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you could see him nod his head fractionally, his mouth twisting into that all-too familiar expression, “What?” You demanded, that nervous tingle ricocheting through your hands.

You could feel yourself tense briefly, knowing whenever he got that scheming, thoughtful flicker in his expression that he was about to do one of two things, both involving him asking a question that involved you: he was about to ask you to do something you weren’t going to necessarily agree with, or ask you a hard-hitting, deep question that would leave you both in an embarrassing silence for the rest of the trip back.

He took a deep breath, hesitating, and you switched off the music, unable to deal with the tense atmosphere he’d suddenly created with one fucking look, “Uh..” he breathed a laugh, “I was thinking–”

“Fuck me.” You muttered, pressing your lips together.

You really hoped he was exaggerating his own dramaticness.

“-That maybe we should go together to all these weddings?” He paused, and after a few seconds of your silence, burst out, “You don’t have to or anything, but I just thought it’d be a–”

“Fucking hell, I thought it was going to be something more serious than that.” You interrupted, flashing him an amused smile as he stopped talking, his jaw hanging open as he digested your words.

“Is that a yes?” He arched a brow, clearly confused at your reaction, or lack thereof.

You shrugged, turning the music back on but keeping the volume low, “Why…” You momentarily paused, “Why would we both want to subject ourselves to more weddings when they’re already the bane of our existence?”

“Because we’ll have each other for support.”

A sad smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, “Neither of us can really get through weddings without drinking. Times that by two, and it’s borderline unhealthy.” You were clutching at straws, and you knew you were, but there was something that just niggled the back of your mind when you thought about attending more weddings with Mat as your plus one.

You’d both have the questions to answer, then the disbelieving glances when you told the truth, and the rest of the evening with people zooming in on something that didn’t exist. It wasn’t that Mat made you uncomfortable, but the attention he’d bring – only to be seen with you – would surely…change something?

He straightened, taking a sip of water, “Please.”

Oh, you absolutely were now. It was settled. Mat had a way of manipulating his voice to sound so wrecked and emotional that it physically killed something inside of you. You weren’t sure if he knew the particular effect it had, but as soon as he uttered ‘please’ with such conviction, you were gone for.

He was still speaking, but the back of your mind was racking up the travel costs, hotel costs, drinks costs, and the amount of time you’d have to request off work – it was a good thing you didn’t have any other holidays planned, or that many days off sick so far; you could rack up the paid holidays unpaid holidays–

“I already told them I was going with Shiv, and now…” he trailed off, head almost swinging in your direction. You took a quick glance at him out of the corner of your eye. Just as you were about to agree and put him out of his misery, he seemed to jump ahead, a twinge of panic in his tone, “My baby cousin is getting married before me. When he was born, I was eight. And when we were growing up it was all ‘oh, when are you and Shiv gonna tie the knot?’, and now it feels like they can’t talk to me without feeling like they’re pitying me. One mention of weddings and I get ten different people looking at me like it’s…an issue that I’m not married. Like they thought for sure that she was the one I was gonna end up with.” He took a deep breath and settled back into his seat, cheeks colouring as though he was embarrassed by the passionate outburst.

In all honesty, you were shocked it had taken him this long to say something. He dated Shiv for years. Even you thought they were going to end up marrying each other. When they broke up he ended up staying at your apartment with daily half-hour phone calls and FaceTime videos with Tito, who seemed so fucking torn about the whole situation, knowing the both of you could only work together to help him so much; he had to find a way to help himself eventually.

There was something about her not ‘being able to cope with his lifestyle’. You weren’t too sure of the specifics.

“Did you think that you were going to end up with her?” It was brave of you to ask. It shocked you that it was also the first time you even thought to ask him about it; you just assumed he did.

Yet, judging from the way his eyes went straight to the road ahead, he was somewhat at odds with himself, “I don’t know what I thought.” He shrugged, surprising you, “At first, I thought ‘this is either going to end in marriage or be the worst breakup of my life’, but I think that wore off after a while. She was comfortable, and we were content. Not so much happy, but tolerating each other.” Then he sighed, reaching to fiddle with the eyemask, and you took that as a hint to leave the topic alone for the time being, “I did love her, but if I’m being completely honest, I’ve been putting off buying a ring for a while. I’m kind of glad I didn’t though, because things are starting to feel more right now than they have in a while. It hurts to admit that, but…”

You nodded, proud he’d spilled what had been playing at his mind, “So this wedding deal – are we going to be colour matching–”

“Thank fuck.” He whispered, “I’m gonna spend the rest of my life thanking you for this–”

“Just shut the fuck up and go back to sleep.”

He adhered to the former, but didn’t immediately act on the latter. He was smiling, probably more than you’d seen him smile in a while, and you knew you wouldn’t come to regret the decision one bit. Mat was one of your best friends, as childish as that sounds, and if it meant taking some of that weight off him at your expense, you’d probably do it whenever you could.

“I love you too.”

You shot him a glance at the words he’d said, cheeks blazing. He knew you did.

#mat barzal x reader #mat barzal oneshot #plus one m barzal #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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justanoasisimagines · 16 days

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Better off without them

Summary; When Michael is ditched by Oliver, you decided to make friends... Pairing; Michael Gavey x Female Reader WordCount; 627 Warnings; Strong Language A/N; Requests are open! Credit goes to @cafekitsune for the divider an banner!

It was shocking how fickle some people could be. You rolled your eyes when you observed Oliver Quick ditch Michael Gavey for Felix Catton. Oliver was no more than a magpie, easily distracted by something shiny.

You'd seen it happen countless times. People flocked towards Felix the second they realized his wealth and power. You'd often wondered if any of them truly cared about Felix at all.If times got tough, would any of them be there with there for Felix? Probably not, they'd drop him the second he was irrelevant.

Yet it was Michael you felt sorry for. No one deserved to be dropped like that. Calling over the bartender, you proceeded to order Michael a pint and you another drink.

"What's that for?" He asked, pushing glasses up as you placed the ground in front of him.

"For you to drink of course, obviously. I saw Oliver ditch you for Felix, so here"

"So you brought me a pint out of fucking pity. I don't want your pity." You scoffed as you picked up the pint. If Michael didn't want your company or your pint, he could suit himself.

"Wait, I never said I didn't want it" Placing the pint back down, you moved to walk away. Hopefully, Michael knew all people weren't materialistic arseholes.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to. Unless you're meeting someone else." Michael was honestly one of the most confusing people you'd ever encountered. If you sat down, was he going to tell you to fuck off?

Slowly, you sat in the chair adjacent to him. Giving Michael ample time to change his mind. His lack of contempt reassured you. He'd decided to keep your company, for now.

"Crunchie?"

"Sure thanks" Michael opened up his bag, pulling out two crunchies as you were taking a sip of your drink. Suddenly Felix's table erupted with obnoxiously exaggerated laughter.

"Vapid cunts" Michael mumbled under his breath. You attempted to hide your laughter with a fake cough, failing miserably. Michael's lips twitched subtly.

"Once they've finished their studies, not one of them will keep in contact. It's all for show, like a muster of peacocks all flaunting their tails. A way to show they've got high social status or some other nonsense."

"I thought Oliver was like me. On outcast. Didn't take him long to fall for Felix's charm, did it?" Michael suddenly found his pint interesting. Truly you wondered if Oliver thought he was better than Michael. No supposed friend should just drop someone like that. Gritting your teeth you struggled to restrain yourself from marching over there, giving Oliver a piece of your mind.

It would be no more than he deserved.

"You don't need him. He'll realize one day his friendship with Felix has no depth or integrity." Michael mumbled something intelligible as he took a bite out of the middle of the crunchie.

"Sounds like you have experience?" Another sip of your drink, before you began to unwrap your crunchie and revel in the sweetness.

"I had a group of friends when I first started Oxford. They decided to ditch me for Felix. Some of them are over there as we speak" Michael peered over your shoulder.

"Fuck it, do you want to get out of here?" Michael was already rising from his chair.

"Sure, where do you want to go?" You replied as you gathered your belongings. Michael shrugged.

"I know this restaurant not too far from here. Do you fancy getting something to eat?"

"Sounds good" Neither of you turned to take a final glance at Felix and his mates as you two departed the King's Arms. Never bothering to look back on the past, but instead looking to the future with something new.

#Michael Gavey imagines #Michael Gavey imagine #Saltburn imagines #Saltburn imagine #Michael Gavey oneshot #Michael Gavey one shot #Saltburn one shot #Saltburn oneshot #Drabble #Requests open

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alfi-always-writes · 1 year

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Donnie's Dilemma

Summary: Donnie was in a relatively rare mood, but asking for help from his brothers on this was completely out of the question.

Author's note: I wrote a post about this general concept and then instantly began this fic. It's a bit on the longer side, but I'm kinda proud of how it came out. Enjoy, friends!

Warnings: This fic contains tickling, specifically multiple people tickling one individual, so please scroll on by if that isn't your cup o tea.

Word count: 1,561

—

The lair was surprisingly noisy at this time of day; however, after a particularly difficult week for the Mad Dogs, everyone deserved a night to just relax and goof off. Three of the mutant brothers could be found in the TV room, bickering over their Jupiter Jim movie and roughhousing for control over the remote.

And then, of course, there was Donnie tucked away in his lab. Tough weeks bred long nights of work for him: repairing, preparing, improving for the upcoming week. Nobody made him do it, nobody asked for it, it was just how he dealt with these things.

That, and he might have been purposely isolating himself. Who's to say?

But he definitely was.

It wasn't often that he felt like this, but when the feeling did come on, it was mighty and took up a good portion of his attention. He tried to divert his attention from this to something more productive, but he couldn't deny it anymore. He wanted to be tickled.

It felt infantile, especially given all of the other things that he had to be concerned about these days. He could usually push off the feeling until it went away, but the longer he repeated this cycle of denying this... ache, the stronger it would come back the next time. It was very distracting when he really needed to be focused.

An additional distraction entered the scene: Donnie heard Mikey calling for his help, followed by a strangled shriek, followed again by his hysterical laughter. The soft-shell rolled his eyes, continuing to tinker with his invention. But as he worked, his mind lingered off to the commotion, the laughter, and soon enough his hands stilled as the ache worsened.

No, more of an itch. A nagging want for the affection that was currently being bestowed upon Mikey (per usual). Truthfully, though he wasn't always a big fan of physical contact, he craved it sometimes. He craved the feeling of being wanted, of laughing without a single care.

They would think he's crazy if he ever vocalized this feeling. They weren't judgmental people, but they were his brothers. Leo would never ever let him live something like this down. He would never hear the end of it.

Classic Donnie overthink. He needed to take some sort of action, whether it was checking on his brothers or putting time into sound-proofing his lab. Either way, he knew he wasn't getting any more work done for the time being.

He decided to stretch his legs and make sure his brothers didn't kill each other. Perhaps he could slip into the action under the guise of being dragged into it, therefore maintaining his "bad-boy" image.

But mostly to stretch his legs.

—

Donnie peered into the TV room to survey the scene. The sepia glow of the television illuminated the scene: Raph holding Leo's wrists firmly against the ground with Mikey wiggling his nimble fingers against the sides of Leo's shell. Leo was beside himself with laughter, trying with all his might to escape Mikey's devious hands.

Donnie's stomach stirred with a nervous anticipation. Though he hated to admit it, he was a bit jealous of Leo's predicament—

No, it's so childish. Abort mission. He turned quickly to retreat to his lab again, knocking something over in the process. His brothers paused their war, taking notice of Donnie for the first time.

"Oh, hey Donnie!" Raph said, releasing Leo, who instantly used his newfound freedom to fight Mikey off of him.

"What gives?! You show up when Leo's in trouble, but when I need help, nothing?!" Mikey looked betrayed. Leo got up finally, still a bit out of breath.

"Yeah, where were you? Mikey caved and made a pact with Raph. I'm dying out here! But now that you're here, you down for a movie night now, DonTon?"

"No, uh, I just came here for... to..." Donnie trailed off. For someone who always had a plan, he really hadn't thought this one through completely. The moment had passed, it was Jupiter Jim time. The itch put his nerves on high alert, but he couldn't bring himself to say what he was thinking. It was becoming apparent now that he had been silent for far longer than what is socially acceptable. "I was going to ask for some assistance, but you all are clearly busy."

Mikey looked awestruck at Donnie coming to them for help. "Of course we'll help, Donald! Anything you need!"

Donnie smiled nervously at Mikey's enthusiasm. Boy, if only he knew...

"What kind of help?" Raph asked.

"Oh, science and, ah, you know—"

Leo cut in, per usual, "He probably just wants to help me get back at you both. Right, brother?"

"I think I'd rather risk getting caught myself than help you," he deadpanned, flying a little close to the sun with his word choice.

"Every man for himself?" Raph asked, readying himself for another attack.

"Oh, no wait, I get it," Leo said suddenly, giving Donnie a knowing smirk, "Our resident genius wants his turn."

Donnie froze, not expecting Leo to infiltrate his thoughts with such ease. He studied each of his brother's faces, watching the realization dawn on all three of them. There was a moment of such intense silence that only the water rushing through the sewer could be faintly heard. Finally, Donnie sucked in a breath and lied as calmly as possible. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Leon."

"Oh come on, DonTon! You can talk to us, we're your brothers," Leo said, resting his arm on Donnie's shoulder.

Mikey was already at his other side, hugging him around his midsection. "Yeah Donnie! We would never make fun of you!"

"Hold on," Leo corrected, "We will totally make fun of you, but we won't judge you!"

Donnie tried to will away the blush that was creeping onto his face. His brothers (minus Leo) made this so easy for him, so why was it still so difficult?

"Just say whatcha need, and we'd be happy to help," Raph said, offering a genuine smile.

Donnie stammered for a moment, reaching for the words to express exactly what he felt. He still couldn't bring himself to say it, no matter how hard he tried. He settled for the only retaliation that he knew would bring results, "I'm not even..."

Leo smirked, leaning in closer to his dear twin. "Not even what?" When Donnie only groaned and covered his face, Mikey beamed.

"He can't say it when it's about him!"

Donnie wanted to die. Die, or kill all of them. "I can to say it! Just... Just get it over with."

That was as close as he was going to get, and they could tell.

Leo didn't waste another second as he grabbed Donnie by the shoulders, throwing him down on the ground and digging into his sides instantly. Mikey hooked an arm around Donnie's knee to keep his leg still, using his free hand to squeeze his upper thigh. Donnie hardly had a minute to process the turn of events before he erupted into frantic giggles, swatting at Leo's offending hands.

Leo swatted back at him while trying to focus on the task at hand. "Raph, a little help here, buddy?!"

Raph gathered both of Donnie's wrists easily, pinning them above his head. With the reduced mobility, every poke and squeeze felt twice as unbearable. The tingling sensation spread through every nerve in his body before flooding his brain, blocking out every ounce of anxiety that plagued him all afternoon. Despite his frantic struggles for freedom, this was exactly what he needed. The itch was finally being scratched, and it felt good to just let himself laugh carelessly.

"Is this what you were hoping for, hmmm?" Leo asked, creeping his fingers up Donnie's ribs.

"Awww, look at how happy he is!" Mikey said, now squeezing Donnie's knee in rapid succession.

"Pfaha! D-Dohon't teheASE, NO NOHO RAPH!" Donnie suddenly shrieked as Raph lightly skittered his fingers into Donnie's armpit. He flailed his free leg so wildly that it could have taken off Mikey's head had the orange-banded brother not been paying attention.

"Whohoa! I wanna try that!" Leo dug his fingers under Donnie's other arm, earning a scream and frantic cackling from their brainy brother.

"LEHEHEO!"

"Uhh, is he supposed to be that color?" Mikey asked suddenly, which everyone took as a cue to stop their attack.

Donnie pulled his limbs in and curled up tightly as he caught his breath. When Leo and Raph finally pulled him to a sitting position, Donnie couldn't look at any of them. Though he was satisfied, he couldn't help feeling incredibly silly. "Uhum, thanks brothers. You didn't have to—"

"Relax, Don," Raph said with a warm smile.

"Yeah, you can just ask next time you want us to totally destroy you," Leo said, crossing his arms with a smug grin.

Donnie shook his head, but smiled genuinely. "That won't be happening, but... thanks."

Mikey tackled Donnie in a hug, pulling Leo and Raph in as well. Donnie closed his eyes and sighed, content to stay like that for the rest of the night. But Leo, per usual, couldn't just let a simple, quiet moment last for too long.

"You know, I'd hate for Raph to feel left out."

And the war waged on once again.

#my writing #sfw tickle fic #sfw tickling community #rottmnt tickle fic #ticklish!donnie #if you noticed how often i use italics #no you didn't

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cha0ticspacebi · 1 year

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You're An Image Caught in Time: Chapter 18

You got your soulmark when you were very young. You knew who you hoped had left their mark but since they never said anything to you, you resigned yourself to a life of bitter unrequited love. As much as you wanted to meet your soulmate you knew after all these years they must not want to meet you. Though the mark never faded some days you wished it would. Especially after meeting Billy.

☆ You can find me over on A03 as Cha0ticBi ☆ Master list link!

Childhood Friends! Eddie Munson X Reader

Tags: 18+ NSFW MDNI, slowish burn soulmate AU, reader is in an abusive relationship with Billy Hargrove, Dark! Billy, Eddie is a sweetheart but bad at feelings, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, eventual happy ending

Warnings: rape/non con elements, emotional and physical abuse, graphic depictions of violence, suicidal thoughts

Chapter 18/28 Previous chapter → Next chapter

The next few weeks were tough as January came and went. You found out really quickly just how much was involved with following through on the choice you’d made. The trial had been set for the middle of February, which felt so soon yet so far away. Hopper has been contacting you regularly, helping you set up interviews with court officials and helping you prepare for when you would have to testify. With each passing day you felt more and more overwhelmed between school and the trial prep, any down time you had was usually spent feeling anxious.

With Billy locked up until then you found yourself particularly worried about Max and her mom. Billy helped pay the bills for them. Now Max’s mom had to get a second job and work even harder just to keep them afloat. Eddie tried to reassure you that it wasn’t your fault but how could it not be? You’re the one who put Billy in jail and if he’s convicted you might feel better but what about Max and her mom? They will have lost a brother and son, not to mention a source of income.

The trial was now just a week away and you were trying to distract yourself with homework after school. Eddie was trying to concentrate too but you could tell he was on edge.

Growing up around addicts and then of course being with Billy had altered your perception of the world. Things other people might not notice or think twice about were glaringly obvious to you. Subtle changes that signal a shift in someone’s mood. Like the added tension in Eddie’s hand as he held his pencil, the way he kept switching positions with his legs every five seconds, or the difference in his breathing as he let out a long sigh.

“Sweetheart,” he looked up at you from his paper, “Are you still thinking about what Max said to you?”

“Yeah, I’m trying really hard not to blame myself but I can’t help it. I feel so guilty for going through with this,” your pencil kept moving along the paper as you spoke.

Eddie closed his notebook, “Come here. We can work on this later,” he patted the seat on the couch next to him. You reluctantly tried to join him, rising slowly from your place on the floor. Your anxiety has been really high since agreeing to go through with this. You felt yourself slipping back into old habits, hugging yourself as you stood in front of him unable to actually sit down.

He rested his elbows on his knees looking up at you, “He put himself in there sweetheart. His choices and his actions. You are not responsible for anything that happens to him now.”

“But what about them? They didn’t do anything wrong either and now they're suffering because of me. Max told me that Billy had been denied bail because of what happened outside the trailer the day he was arrested. She may not have been best buddies with him but she still sounded upset about it,” you clawed at your head pulling back from him, “Please Eddie? Tell me how this is not my fault?”

“You do not need to shoulder any of this blame!” You could tell from his voice he was getting upset, “That bastard hurt you and deserves what he gets!”

“But-“

“But nothing!” He shot up from the couch and yelled as he threw up his hands in frustration, “Jesus Christ, can you please just think about yourself for once!”

You flinched away from him, tightening all the muscles in your face. Every nerve ending in your body bracing for the impact of a hand against your skin. As soon as he realized what he’d done, he tried to hold you but you stepped back and without another word fled to the bathroom. He called your name trying to apologize but it was too late. His outburst had sent you into a spiral. You sat on the bathroom floor with the door closed and held your head in your hands as you cried voiceless tears. You could hear him outside the bathroom door.

He called your name, “I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to yell. I would never put my hands on you like that! I'm just so frustrated that you think any of this is your fault, I didn’t mean to scare you. Please, can I come in there with you?”

“No I’m so sorry Eddie!” The words rushed out from your lips, “It’s my fault for upsetting you, all I’ve done is make things so much worse for everyone else.” You spoke through the closed door as your brain went into overdrive thinking about how this was such a huge step backwards to all the progress you’d been making and that your stupid, selfish decision to go against Billy was only hurting everyone around you. You got so caught up in your own head you didn’t even realize that the next words came out of your mouth, “I should have died that day in the woods.” There was a heavy silence on the other side of the door.

Eddie always made sure he respected your privacy. He always knocked and waited for permission before entering a room if you were changing or showering, hell even if you were just relaxing alone he never wanted you to feel intruded upon. Not this time. He pushed the door open with cautious tension in his fist. The movement still startled you. You didn’t want to look up at him so you opted to hide your face from him in between your knees as you curled into yourself. You could feel the weight of his gaze as he stood there in the door frame, both of you unsure of what to do or say next. You heard the scrunching of leather as he pulled his jacket off. Suddenly you felt surrounded by him when he put it around your shoulders. It smelled like him and helped clear your clouded mind a bit.

“I’m so sorry Eddie, Billy was right. I’m broken.”

“Pretty girl,” he sat down on the bathroom floor with you, “That useless piece of trash wasn’t right about anything. You’re not broken.”

“Why do I feel broken then?” You looked up to see his tear stained cheeks, “More times than I care to admit, when he was-“ your voice wavered, “When he was hitting me I wanted to die. The only thing that stopped me was fear. That day in the woods, I don’t doubt for a second he would have just left me lying there in the dirt. I only got up because I was scared. If I-“ you hid your face again ashamed, “If I wasn’t such a fucking coward-“ he stopped you.

“You’re not a coward, sweetheart! I don’t know where you got that idea but you're stronger than anyone I know. It takes strength to pull yourself back up and keep going every day and it takes a fighter to face your abuser!” He tentatively reached out to touch you. When you didn’t stop him he put his arms around you, “When’s your next appointment with Ms Kelly?”

You sniffled, “Not until Monday.”

Eddie gently moved your shoulders and himself so you had no choice but to look him in the eyes, “We are going to her office first thing tomorrow morning and you are talking to her. You know I don’t usually make you do anything until you’re ready but this isn't up for debate.”

You tried to regain your composure, sniffling and coughing to clear your throat, “Ok Eddie.”

He helped you up off the floor and you spent the rest of the night listening to him play guitar while you tried to continue working on your homework.

You don’t remember falling asleep. You certainly don’t remember cleaning up, putting your books away, or getting under the blankets but that’s where you find yourself in the morning. Eddie’s arm wrapped around your waist and his body cradling yours from behind, even in sleep he was holding you so close. You smiled as you shifted to face him. There was a loose strand of hair laying across his eye. Your finger grazed across his skin as you moved in to kiss his forehead, “G’morning my brave knight.”

He moaned into the pillow, “Too early princess.”

You cuddled into him, “We have to get up or we’ll be late.”

He yawned, “I stayed up too late.”

“I told you to use your alarm clock when you are playing guitar or you’ll end up playing all night,” you scolded.

“Wasn’t playing,” he yawned again, “I was watching you sleep, wanted to be awake if you had a nightmare.”

You knew that while his words might have technically been true that wasn’t the real reason he must have stayed up all night watching you sleep. Now that you told him about your suicidal thoughts he was probably worried you might hurt yourself, “Eddie, I promise I won’t hurt myself and if I feel like that again I will tell you. You have to take care of yourself too.”

He rubbed his eyes, “No matter how many times I apologize I feel like I keep doing stupid shit. I feel horrible for losing my temper and getting upset yesterday.”

“You’re allowed to be upset Eddie. It’s not your fault I reacted that way,” you got up and started getting ready for school.

He scoffed at the ceiling, “Why can’t you have that same attitude towards yourself? You’re so worried about how everyone else feels. You need to stop worrying about how I feel, how Max feels, shit you even worry about Billy still! Be selfish for once.”

You sighed, grabbing your jacket and book bag, “I appreciate the sentiment Eddie but it’s easier said than done, come on. I need to go see Ms. Kelly, right?”

He rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of dirty jeans, “If you really don’t want to go I won’t force you sweetheart but it would make me feel so much better.”

“I’ll go Eddie, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I was feeling sooner, it’s not exactly something easy to admit or think about.”

He hugged you, “I’m just glad you told me. Come on, let’s go.”

You got to school and immediately headed for Ms. Kelly’s office. You knocked on her door and she greeted you with a smile, “Good morning you two. How can I help you?”

“Do you have an open time when I can come talk to you today?”

“Hm, I might,” she goes to grab her clipboard, “If you don’t mind eating lunch with me we can talk for a bit then. Did something happen?”

“Yeah, last night I admitted to Eddie that I’ve been dealing with some…troubling thoughts.” Eddie’s hand rubbed small circles on the small of your back.

She stopped you, “Say no more,” she smiled and put her hand on your shoulder, “I’ll see you at lunch.”

With a kiss, you and Eddie headed off your separate ways towards class. Focusing on school work helped pass the time until lunch but somehow it still felt like a lifetime until you were meeting Robin at your locker before heading back to Ms. Kelly’s office.

“Hey!” Robin called to you from down the hall. You met her in a hug, “Where are you headed? The lunch room is the other way.”

“I have an unscheduled visit with Ms Kelly today. Dealing with everything that’s happening has been harder than I thought it would be and well, Eddie got upset last night,” you so badly wanted to tell her the rest but it just wouldn’t come out. You knew she’d worry but you were working on it.

“I can’t believe I’m even asking this but,” Robin’s voice cracked with uncertainty, “Eddie didn’t you know-“

“Of course not!” You yelled louder than you meant to getting a few stares from people, “Eddie would never ever hurt me like that. Even when he gets mad or upset and loses his temper. Which, I wouldn’t even describe what happened like that. He was frustrated and I got upset. I gotta go, I’ll see you later!”

She hugged you before you could leave, “We are hanging out this weekend! You need to have some fun.”

You smiled, “I’d love that actually, now I really have to leave!”

The door to Ms. Kelly’s office was open when you walked up. She was sitting at her desk, she must have seen you from the corner of her eye as you stepped into the doorway, “Come on in, I was just getting your file. Sorry we don’t have more time today.”

You were trying to get better about not apologizing so much but, “I’m sorry it was so last minute,” it was still a work in progress.

“Not at all, I meant what I said when I told you to come see me anytime. Now tell me what happened last night.”

Before last night, Ms. Kelly was the only one who knew about the suicidal thoughts you’d had when Billy was hurting you. You’d spent a whole session talking with her about both the incident in the woods as well as the day Billy found you by that tree. She knew you didn’t want to tell anyone because you didn’t want to make them worry but she had been encouraging you to think about telling Eddie.

“It just sort of slipped out, I was so mad at my body for reacting that way. Like I know Eddie would never hit me but in that moment I felt like I was standing in front of Billy again,” your head fell into your hands with a frustrated groan, “I felt like I was doing so much better until I decided to go through with this stupid trial. Now I feel like no matter how hard I try I’m going backwards.”

She finished chewing a bite of her sandwich, “Healing from trauma is a roller coaster with exciting highs and terrifying lows, not a straight flat line. This one instance doesn’t diminish all the progress you’ve made. I’m glad that, even if you didn’t intend to, you told Eddie. Have you talked to him about joining us for a session?”

“Not yet.”

You talked for a bit longer and finished eating before heading off to face the afternoon. Eddie was by his locker just before the last class of the day. You saw him in the hallway facing away from you so you tapped his shoulder.

“Hey princess, how’d it go?” He hugged you tightly.

“Good,” you wanted to keep the positive energy going from your talk with Ms Kelly and while you still had the courage to ask, you looked up at him, “After the trial is over, how would you feel about joining me for a session? Ms. Kelly says it would be good for her to talk to both of us at the same time.”

He smiled at you, “I told you. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you. Of course I will,” he played with your hair in his finger, “Can I touch your soulmark?”

Ever since Ms. Kelly had brought it to his attention, he asked for permission, even though you tried to tell him that if you were happy he could touch it whenever he wanted. It was only if you were feeling upset or anxious that you wanted him to check with you first. You smiled and guided his hand to the back of your neck and leaned into his chest, “Thank you Eddie.”

“For what?” He kept rubbing the back of your neck.

“For existing,” your doe eyes looked up at him softly as you lowered your voice, “I don’t think you realize how important you are to me. There were so many nights the only thing that got me through was you. I’d lay awake for hours in his bed rubbing the back of my neck. You’ve always been there for me, whether you realized it or not.”

His mouth hung open slightly with a crooked little smile, “I really don’t deserve you. You know, most people wouldn’t have taken me back after what I did.”

Your hand cradled his cheek, “Well it’s a good thing I am fucking stubborn and didn’t give up on you.”

He looked lost in thought as the two of you headed towards the last class of the day.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #soulmate au #soulmate identifying marks #childhood friend eddie munson #high school sweethearts #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut #18+ content

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rivasyoung90 · 1 month

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Today's economy is terrible and it's hard for everyone to get a job. You need to learn all you can about job hunting to improve your chances of getting hired. This article contains a wealth of information on how to land a great job.

Keeping employee morale high will greatly benefit your business. You should organize company events around birthdays and holidays for example. This will make your employees feel like they are part of a team, and as such, they will work harder. Of course, the end result of this is that your bottom line will be larger. A great tip for workplace harmony is to avoid relationships in the workplace, and if your the employer, have a policy against it. While things may be great, and productivity may be increased when the going is good, imagine the havoc it will wreak on morale and productivity when and if things go sour! It's not uncommon for companies to offer different perks to gain the attention of prospective employees. Gyms and a quality cafeteria can give employees the drive to work harder. By doing this, people will be more likely to want to work with you. As a result, your competition will increase. Therefore, you are ensured that you are obtaining the best possible prospects for the job. You should avoid being set on a single position. It might look promising, but anything can happen before you get the job. Continue to keep all your options open. If sassastatus-srd.co.za is broadened, you have a better chance to secure a position. Do not take care of your personal business when you are at work. Only use your break time unless it is an absolute necessity. Even if your boss is lax on this rule you should not use it. You will gain a great deal of respect by showing that you are able to manage your life appropriately. Make sure that the voicemail on your phone sounds professional if you are giving your number to potential employers. Avoid loud background music and distracting noises. You should be clear about who you are and politely ask the caller to leave a message. Make sure that you return every call you receive promptly. If you are requested by the recruiter to complete an application, take your time in filling it out. Even if the information requested already appears on the resume you have handed them, it still will make an impression if you go the extra step of filling it in again by hand. Find out a little about the company you are interviewing with. Don't go in there blind. For starters, you may discover you don't want to be involved with anything they are doing, or you may be able to glean some nuggets that you can impress your interviewer with, so you appear to care about this particular company. Make sure you let all the parties involved know if you are using multiple employment agencies to find a job. There is nothing wrong with using more than one, but they need to be informed. This will help to keep them from duplicating efforts by submitting you multiple times for the same position. Eye contact is one of the more important things to focus on as the interview in progress. When you make eye contact with your interviewer, it shows that you are not only paying attention to them but are confident as well. These attributes are important to companies for hiring purposes. After an interview, be sure to pick up your phone when the company calls you back. And, if for some reason, you cannot answer, be sure to call them back right away. Waiting too long to return their call will have the company thinking you are not that interested in working for them. Meeting a potential employer in person is often much better than applying for a job online. You should print some resumes and visit local businesses to ask if they are currently hiring. You will have the opportunity to talk to potential employers, ask questions and make a good first impression. The economic downturn has propagated an uncertain employment picture. Getting through this tough time in life and getting a job you like isn't something that's easy to do. By studying the tips and advice contained in this article and applying them to your individual situation you can improve the chances that you will find employment success.

#sassastatus-srd.co.za

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yasminsqueendom · 10 months

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7. Complications

WC: 1294

TW/CW: Nothing

Micky felt foolish. The way she acted with Erik was out of pocket and she knew it. Her problems weren’t his, and realistically speaking why would he have told her anything about his life? They weren’t actually a couple for the majority of the time they knew each other. She had forgiven him for his wild behavior, and he had shared more with her than ever before about his work and his family. For all I know, he would have told me about his life if I waited a little while. It’s only been three days.

Erik was a wild card, and that’s what bothered her the most. He was a complete person on his own, capable of solving his own problems independently, and Micky wasn’t used to that. In her world, she was “super-bitch.” In his, she could be his “babygirl” and nothing could hurt her when he was around. It was tough adjusting to that reality when independence was what she strived for. There had to be a way to balance that helpless feeling with her sense of self.

Micky checked her phone. 8:25am. She needed to talk to Erik, but he was probably at work by now. She would wait on that conversation until later. At the moment, she needed to tidy her apartment, and look after Rufus. The poor old cat was probably traumatized. The place was a mess after her night with Erik, and the futon frame needed to be taken apart. Micky was sure the instructions were in a drawer somewhere in the kitchen.

After a few hours, Rufus was fed and well brushed and Micky had most of the frame taken apart. She’d never found the instructions, but all she needed was an L-wrench and a lot of patience. She was working on taking apart one of the arms when her phone rang. Adina. It was an old friend from college. Micky answered.

“Hey, Adina. Long time, no ring. Wassup?” Micky wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but she didn’t mind the distraction.

“Nothing much. I was just scrolling through my contacts for people to delete, and I realized I haven’t talked to you since graduation. How you been?”

“Ummm. Just life as usual. Working and stuff.” Micky didn’t feel bad lying about that. She never much liked Adina’s uppity ass.

“You still got that little retail job?”

“Actually, I left it. Decided to pursue writing instead.”

“And how is that working for you?” Bitch, not today.

“Good, actually. I’m getting more experience working with other writers with different perspectives. It’s very interesting.”

“Sounds like it. I always wondered if you were gonna do anything with that degree. I mean, who gets a degree in Creative Writing, in the economy today? Anything in the “Arts” for that matter?” Micky rolled her eyes. She knew it was the same opinion that so many people in the States had about artistic degrees. Number crunching of some form or another was the only valuable work. Everyone else should just be grateful to even be thought of.

“I think it depends on what the world considers valuable. I look at it this way.” Micky took a deep breath to start the speech she used to convince her mother that an Art degree wasn’t a waste of time. “Think about a world with no music, no nicely designed offices, no architects, no paintings, no clothes, no books, no-”

“Yeah, but these things don’t require a degree. That’s a waste.” This bitch.

“I didn’t need the degree to be a writer. But if I want work in any of the fields that I’m interested in, it may help me.”

“Maybe the bigger issue would be your writing itself. You say you’re getting experience, but is it paid?” I don’t owe this bitch an explanation for shit.

“Did you call me for a reason other than to be condescending?” Micky didn’t feel quite like herself. She was so used to just swallowing bullshit. Maybe her time with Erik was paying off.

“I’m not condescending. I’m just-”

“Being condescending.”

“Wow. Clearly you have an attitude problem.”

“And you can have a blessed day.” Micky hung up without waiting for a response. Raggedy bitches like Adina needed to have the last word. Bzzz bzzz. As expected, the bitch was calling back. Micky swiped it straight to voicemail, and blocked the number. I don’t have time for the bullshit.

Micky finished taking apart the frame of the futon, feeling a little proud of herself. She felt different. What else do I need to do today? Micky grabbed her laptop to start applying for different jobs.

Retail. Cashiering. Shelf-stocking. Nothing paid more than $12 an hour, and jobs that paid more were only part-time. Micky felt discouraged, but she was only looking for something similar to what she already had. Why not take a chance on herself? She liked writing, and she wanted to either run her own blog, and eventually write for a series or movie. There had to be something in this city that would be available for someone just getting started.

She searched Creative Writing. There were mostly positions for teaching elementary school classes how to write. A few positions even described classes teaching immigrants to write in English for night classes, but she would have to go to school for a certification first. This wasn’t turning out exactly how she needed it to.

Micky considered ways to reword her search. She started looking up local magazines, and popular internet blogs that she could apply to. There were so many different kinds to choose from: fashion and makeup, politics, current events, celebrity gossip, education, fanpages/fanfics. The list went on and on, and Micky didn’t know where to start so she closed her laptop.

What do I have? She had never bothered to organize her writings outside of her blog, a mistake she intended to correct as soon as possible. Several hours, and several social media pauses later, Micky had a rough working structure for organizing her work. She split everything into general groups: Fanfiction, SMUT!, Romance, Child Friendly, Short Stories, Hey Micky! (blog), Haunted, Black Girls Winning. The last category didn’t have anything yet, but Micky resolved to write more true and fictional success stories of Black women.

She sat feeling proud of herself until her phone rang. Mark’s picture appeared on her screen, making her heart immediately sink. Micky wasn’t in the mood for it right now, so she let it go to voicemail. Mark could be a lot to deal with when she was tired. He probably heard about the fight I had with the hags. Definitely not a conversation Micky wanted to have with him today. The phone stopped ringing, only to start up again. Micky ignored it again, and then he texted her.

Micky, I heard what that bitch did to you.

Do you understand why I hate her so much?

She fucks everything up. It’s all her fault.

She was like that with our dad, too.

You were too young to get it before.

The messages just kept coming back to back. Mark still seemed to be under the impression that Micky didn’t understand things just because she was young. It was her least favorite thing about her family. They all were under the impression that her youth disqualified her from having her own independent thoughts and opinions. She had to take a side one way or another, because she couldn’t possibly have her own side. Micky had to follow somebody in all this, she wouldn’t be allowed to have her own perspective in this. They were going to keep pushing and pulling until she gave in.

Nah, I’m not giving in. They just gotta stay mad.

#black fiction #black women in fiction #black fic #erik killmonger #where there's smoke #black writer #yasminsqueendom

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jisungsmochi · 3 years

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nct dream reaction: them getting jealous when you are getting closer to another member

okay trust me, i’m writing some new fics, i just finished this first so here it is

mark:

i feel like he is the type of have A LOT of trust in his partner - without trust, he wouldn’t even be in a relationship with someone

he wouldn’t mind you having other guy friends, just as long as you were clear about your relationship with them

he knew that you and renjun were friends prior to your relationship

so naturally, he was aware that you guys were already close

but whenever he saw renjun lean in closer towards you whenever you were talking

or whispering small inside jokes into your ear

he couldn’t help but feel annoyed?

of course he trusted you, and he trusted renjun

but the sight of you two being so close made him feel uneasy

so he would opt to leave the room, not wanting to do or say anything he would regret

as i mentioned, he has a lot of trust in his partner, he wouldn’t want them to not trust him in return

you would run after mark the moment you heard the door close behind him

you approached him cautiously, your fingers softly tapping his shoulder

“hey, are you okay? did i say something?”

“no you didn’t say or do anything at all. it’s just me” he shrugged, fuelling your concern

“what’s up? you know you can tell me” mark begins to feel slightly embarrassed at this point

“i-i was jealous of you and renjun, okay? i know it’s silly” it caught you off guard, you never really saw mark as the jealous type

but this only meant that he really liked you

you shook your head playfully, wrapping your arms around his torso, smiling into his chest

“it’s not silly, you can tell me how you feel. i actually prefer it, rather than you leaving and staying quiet, you know?” mark just nods, his hand rubbing your back softly

he was so lucky to have someone like you in his life, everything felt complete

renjun:

hmm i have some mixed feelings about how he would react

i feel like he would go for someone who is independent and has their own strong personality

basically he would prefer a partner that isn’t too dependent on him, you know?

but when he sees how social / close you’ve become with jaemin, he’s about to lose it completely

jaemin was naturally flirty, and you were naturally enticing to be around

that mix was not a good look in renjun’s eyes

he wanted nothing more than to pry you away from his friend

but he didn’t want to be labelled as the ‘possessive’ or ‘overbearing’ boyfriend

you would always shift your eyes to make contact with renjun’s, assuring him that you were still paying attention to him

but it still wasn’t enough for him to stop feeling jealous

once jaemin laid his hand on your shoulder and moved closer to you (a little too close to comfort for renjun) — he snapped

renjun would excuse the both of you, pulling you along with him out of the room

“i-i don’t like jaemin touching you like that”

you found it slightly amusing that he was jealous. of course you took it as a friendly touch, but you understood how it looked to renjun

“that’s just how he is. you’re the only one i want to hold hands with” you link your hands with his tightly

he starts to go quiet

“and you’re the only one i want to kiss” you peck his cheek gently “like this”

renjun felt his cheeks heat up from the touch, immediately feeling shy infront of you

“o-okay, i just got jealous, that’s all” he pouted

“i know, and that’s okay! just remember that i’m all yours, and only yours, okay?”

jeno:

very very protective

makes it clear that he can get jealous but you had never seen it first hand

so when he saw you laugh a bit too hard at one of haechan’s jokes, he felt his heart slightly ache

‘i’m not as funny as haechan’

‘they looks so much happier with him’ he would think to himself

despite his tough exterior, jeno had a lot of insecurities inside

he doesn’t think he has ever seen you laugh that hard at one of his jokes before

so he starts to get quiet, distracting himself with his phone

suddenly the laugher stops as you make you way to sit down next to your boyfriend

he honestly would be a bit petty at first, only responding with one word answers, until haechan calls him out

“dude, get off your phone and talk to your partner”

“dude, how about you stop flirting with my partner then?” jeno grunts, causing the whole room to go quiet.

you felt so embarrassed, apologising to haechan quietly before dragging jeno away from the group

“what was that? it wasn’t cool, you have to apologise to him!” you folded your arms, not comprehending how jeno was feeling

“what? i’m not apologising. you obviously enjoyed his flirting!”

“jeno, you’re being quite unreasonable right now. it was just some harmless jokes, nothing more” you tried to reassure him

he knew you were right, but he was stubborn at times

“look at me” you brought his face between your palms

“go and apologise to haechan, and then we can go home and cuddle, and also have a deep talk about all of this. sound good?” you suggested

jeno nodded, placing a soft kiss to your forehead

he was whipped for you, this only solidified how he truly felt

haechan:

oh the pettiest of them all

would make it known he was NOT happy with you leaning in so close to mark

you were at a formal function for the celebration of their new album dropping

a lot of people attended, meaning you had to lean in closer than usual just to hear someone speak

haechan couldn’t hide his jealousy when you slapped mark’s shoulder playfully

“jeez, stop shooting holes into mark’s head!” jaemin joked, causing haechan to start glaring at him

renjun tried his best to call down the heated boy

“you know mark wouldn’t ever try anything, don’t get it all twisted in your head, alright?”

haechan just nodded, he knew renjun was just speaking facts

you eventually went to seek out your boyfriend, catching him by the drinks table

“hey, where have you been? i was looking everywhere for you”

“clearly not everywhere”

that caught you off guard

“excuse me? what’s your deal?”

haechan sighs at you, knowing that he shouldn’t have been snappy towards you

“let’s just not make it a bigger deal than it is, i was just jealous of how close you and mark were tonight. you barely talked to me, that’s all” he tried to shrug it off, but you knew him better than that

you placed a firm squeeze to your boyfriend’s shoulder

“if it upset you so much, you know you could have just talked to me? i would never intentionally ignore you like that, i was just so excited for tonight”

haechan nods, pulling you to his side slowly, his arm latched to your waist

“i know and i’m sorry, would you care to dance?” he slightly bit the side of his lip as you nodded enthusiastically

“of course i would” you would drag him to the dance floor as you swayed along to a random ballad playing through the speakers

the rest of the night was full of laughter and smiles once haechan realised he was worried for no damn reason

jaemin:

i see him as someone who can get easily jealous

if another guy even looked at you the wrong way, jaemin has his eyes on them

i feel like he does have self control tho and would choose to not act upon his jealousy

but one day he just snapped

you were playing video games with jeno while you were waiting for jaemin to come home

it wasn’t unusual for you to do so

but one time you didn’t greet jaemin when he came through the door because you were too engrossed in the game

he wouldn’t say anything at first, understanding that you just wanted to beat jeno’s ass

so he makes himself a sandwich before sitting down on the couch with you, pulling you to his side

you slightly shrug him off,

“hey, let me finish this round” you don’t even look at him, which made jeno chuckle

jaemin glared at his friend, but was still in shock by your reaction

“jaem, they’re good at this game, have you been teaching them?” jeno nudges you gently as he continued to play

jaemin was beyond pissed at this point

not only was his significant other ignoring him but his friend was sitting a little too close for his liking

he tries to grab your attention again, tugging on the sleeve of your hoodie, pressing his cheek to your shoulder

“baby, i missed you” he whispered in your ear, distracting you from the game, making you lose the round

“jaem, look what you did now!” you pout, turning to face him

jeno sensed there was tension and quickly scurried off to his own room

“i’m sorry i ruined your SUPER fun game with jeno” he scoffed

“oh please, you know we are just friends. the ONE time i don’t give you an ounce of attention, you wanna act up huh?”

jaemin was now pouting, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater

you let out a sigh before moving to sit closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder

“i’m sorry, i was just getting jealous of how close you guys are now, i want you to play games with me instead! i can teach you everything he can!”

you shook your head before linking your fingers with his

“i know you can, how about tomorrow? the whole day will be just for you and me!” jaemin’s eyes gleamed at the thought, attacking you with hugs and kisses

‘well that was easier than expected’ you thought to yourself

chenle:

seems like the jealous type

idk i get them vibes ya know?

let’s say you invited jisung to go shopping with you while chenle had a different schedule

at first, he’d be like ‘oh yeah go for it!’ bc well, it was just jisung

he had nothing to be worried about

but once he saw you post multiple stories on instagram of yours and jisung’s day out, he couldn’t help but be filled with rage

from eating cute cafe desserts, to buying plushies and even going to the arcade together

chenle was upset to say the least

not only did he miss out on spending time with you, he felt you were slowly replacing him with his best friend

but of course that was the furthest thing from the truth

the tipping point was when jisung posted a mirror selfie of the two of you wearing matching bucket hats

chenle felt his heart ACHE

when you both returned to the dorms, chenle immediately snatched you away, refusing to even greet jisung

jisung stood there like 🧍🏻

anyways chenle would drag you to his room, shutting the door quickly

you were so mf confused

“be honest, do you like jisung more than me?”

you were flabbergasted, was he on crack?

“what? where is this coming from? of course i don’t like him more than you!”

chenle allowed himself to calm down before continuing, shouting wasn’t going to get him anywhere

“well then why did you do so many fun things with him today? you even got matching hats!” he frowned, folding his arms

“we were just hanging out as friends! i promise. and we actually bought you a hat too! i wanted us to all be matching, since we were like a trio. i didn’t know that upset you”

he felt like a complete idiot

“n-no i’m sorry i assumed things, please don’t hate me” chenle pulled you into his chest

“i could never hate you, even if i tried” you sighed, wrapping your arms around his torso

jisung:

oh boy

he’s the silent type,, he would want to avoid any awkward confrontation at all costs

he would bottle up his jealousy until one day he just explodes

i feel like jisung needs a lot of reassurance if he was in a relationship

he didn’t like the sinking feeling in his stomach whenever he saw you and chenle together

things such as playful hits to the shoulder or chest, loud laughter and friendly compliments were seen as subtle flirtations to jisung

you would always try your best to include jisung in your inside jokes with chenle but he’d always shrug it off

“nah it’s just a thing between you two”

comments like those, rubbed you the wrong way and you could tell chenle was slightly bothered too

each time you tried to ask jisung about it, he’d brush it off

“i don’t know what you’re talking about”

“are you sure? because you were kind of being cold to us, don’t you think?”

“doesn’t feel nice when you’re excluded, does it?” you were beyond confused

“can you please talk to me about what’s going on? i don’t like seeing you like this” you pull jisung to across from you on his bed

he avoided your eyes at all costs, fiddling with his rabbit plushie

“i’m jealous” he mumbled

“come again?”

“IM JEALOUS OKAY?” he threw his hands in the air hysterically, catching you off guard

“sometimes i don’t like how close you are with chenle. it seems like you are closer to him than me! i want to make you laugh like that, and i want to buy you nice things. and i want you to hit me playfully”

you listened closely to each concern

you brought your hand to enclose his, placing a soft kiss to his knuckles

“jisung, you’re the only person in this world that makes me laugh so hard that my ribs hurt. buying me nice things won’t change how i already feel towards you. and we can definitely try to be more playful with eachother” you started running your hands through his hair as he slowly shuffled closer to you

“t-thankyou, it’s nice to get it off my chest”

“of course, you have nothing to worry about” you placed a kiss to his forehead as you both spent the night cuddling

#nct dream #nct dream reaction #nct dream scenario #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct writing #mark lee #huang renjun #lee haechan #lee jeno #na jaemin #zhong chenle #park jisung #jisungsmochi masterlist #jisungsmochiimagines

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normally-alexis · 3 years

Text

||Choked up

Pairings - Wilbur x Reader

Warnings - Heavily implied NSFW, Gore-related topics, knife kinks, spitting kink, Pain kink.

Summary - Nights before L'manburg was destroyed and Wilbur went insane you meet up with him and stay over.

Word Count: 1927

L'manburg was pretty much peaceful even though Dream and everybody else didn't want it on the server. It wasn't really bothering anybody so far even though some people, it's mainly just a place to get out of the tough rules of the smp.

You hadn't got into much trouble since you were partially on dream smp's side even though you switch sides pretty often. Whichever side would win you would switch to that side because you didn't want to pick sides you'd be a villain in either's eyes.

Hanging out with Tommy was fun even though he was three years younger than you. It wasn't weird since you both had a strong relationship with Wilbur and Philza. Philza was a father figure to all of you even though you weren't in the slightest related.

Growing up with Wilbur and Techno as best friends was pretty amazing, they taught you a few things throughout your teenage years. Philza before adopting Tommy was nicer to the three of you manly you and Techno.

Being the only female was different, you didn't have special perks as a kid, you were treated like a boy just with fewer responsibilities. Thinking back from when you were a kid towards now it was very rare for people to have kids on the smp. People just adopted children when you think about it.

Techno wasn't really in the Dream smp anymore he was with Philza somewhere out there. Tommy and Tubbo were kids and nobody really wanted them to do anything, they were still sorta young so they just joined L'manburg.

Nothing to stress about at the moment, still being one of the youngest adults of the smp gave you very few privileges. You had to take advantage of them while they lasted at the moment. Since it wasn't safe to live in L'manburg or on the Dream smp you had a bunker underground.

Why wasn't it safe? Anybody who picks sides cannot change that side, if you were on L'manburg's side you would be a big target considering you did have a private association with Dream.

You were underground sorting out some armor and some blueprints, you always have to move a lot if anybody ever saw you so why not be prepared? You kept sketching and erasing multiple times until you age up and burnt it.

The smoke was pretty bad to inhale so you move to an area where there wasn't much smoke at. It's pretty much clouding up the bunker and you start coughing, it's not that bad so you grab a potion and throw it on the burning blueprints.

It's not clouded up anymore even though you could have let it burn out. You drop your armor and weapons on the ground because you wouldn't be needing it at the moment. making your way over to your seat you sit down and look at all the notes in your notebook.

Flipping through the pages seeing if you found any notes you probably had written but most likely forgot were noted down. You stop at a page because it wasn't remembered from last time, it's a note from an anonymous person saying to come to the back of L'manburg.

You look back to see if anybody's there even though there's clearly nobody there. It must have been written early when you had left out. You push your chair out and then stand up, You take a moment and hesitate to think if you should do it or not.

It's a win and lose situation but what's life without a few risks? You leave from the seating of the area and walk over towards the ladder. Before climbing up the ladder you turn the lights off not wanting to draw any unwanted attention.

You grab onto the ladder and push yourself up placing your legs on the ladder, you climb up the ladder. Once you reach the top you push the top open and the trap door was forced open, you place one hand on the ground and place another hand on the ground.

You push yourself up and get on the top of the surface part of the ground. You take a small breathe and close the top. You push yourself up from off of the ground, you knew where L'manburg was since it was a pretty often visit.

You move throughout all the leaves and in vines, it's pretty normal to walk through it all. A few thoughts crossed your mind thinking about it, Dream wouldn't try contacting you that way he'd just catch you in the middle of the Dream smp and pull you to the side.

Thinking about meeting in L'manburg it would only be Tommy, Tubbo, Wilbur, Eret, Fundy, or Niki. It's not really Important who invited you but you really did want to know. You walk over to the area of the Dream smp and pass Tommy's house. It's pretty abandoned but you didn't bother starring at it too long.

You walk past it and walk towards the bridge that usually leads to L'manburg, you stop for a moment and hear a singing noise. It's not anywhere in sight per say but it's loud enough to hear. It's within the walls beside you and you put your ear on the wall.

It's more of a humming sound, you remove your ear from the wall and roam your hands along it. You hit a button along the wall not surprised but the wall opens up and the humming is more clear.

You enter inside of the cobblestone room not really expecting anything. The floor made a little sound when you entered inside of the room. You look on the ground and there's a few blood clots on the floor and some guts along with it.

You cover your mouth backing yourself backing into the corner. You sorta had a dislike of blood, not Hemophobia but it wasn't your favorite to be in a room filled with something dead. You look up and see Wilbur finishing cutting something up.

He already heard you since you had entered the room. He turns around and removes his gloves which were stained with blood. It's not a human thankfully but it's a dead animal, still very uncomfortable in this situation.

Wilbur looks up at you not very surprised up at the moment, " What's wrong?" The whole display itself was wrong. You uncover your mouth smelling all the disgusting rotting corpses, "You're killing animals and letting them rot," How is he not disgusted? You roam around the room seeing more dead animals.

Wilbur tries explaining himself while coming towards you, but you get very distracted by all the blood splatter on the ground and much more graphic stuff. You weren't looking at him meaning that he knew your attention wasn't on his apology.

He grabs your hair and tugs on it making you shift your attention at him. Pulling and tugging on your hair really hurt because it's like being forced by Wilbur. As tough as you seemed whenever you had armor on being without armor is a completely different story.

"What's wrong tell me, you had a lot of nerve coming from somebody who would fuck literally anybody attractive enough," It's very weak of you to get degraded by somebody who doesn't even know how to defend himself.

"Or anybody who even found you attractive," You knew your worth but whenever somebody tells you something about criticizing yourself you'd just believe it and fix yourself. Was he right? You can't answer that yourself.

You had gone pretty silent and it causes Wilbur to get more aggressive with you. He knees your in your stomach not damaging your internal organs but it just made you feel weak and you tremble on your knees.

You grip onto your stomach squeezing it together, He's treating you like complete shit. He stops kneeing you and he pinches your cheek practically teasing you. You weren't even supposed to be meeting Wilbur at the moment.

Responding would get you in trouble and not responding would get you in more trouble. He's very agitated at the moment and he grabs the pocket knife from his pocket putting it towards your thigh.

"Can I Carve our Initials on your thigh," He asks you, You weren't too fond of punishment but you did like the attention being craved. You nod your head slightly and he removes his hand from your hair.

He grabs onto your thigh and you fall down stinging your back. He slowly starts carving your initials on your thigh, you don't make the loud noises you want to because he'll just end up cursing you out.

You wanted to curse so badly even though you liked it when he inflicted the pain, But why was it only acceptable when he did it. He was only done carving the 'W' halfway, you flinch and he messes up.

It a swerved 'W' and it looks very crossed out, He's upset with you and gets up from squatting. You try communicating with him, "Wilbur?" He's not necessarily listening to blocking out the thoughts.

He puts his foot in between your legs pushing it further near your shorts, His shoes against your clit. You can't tell what his original thoughts are, before you can even react he kicks you in your side. You fall on your face gripping onto your lower half, it's like a period without the loose blood clots.

He squats down and grabs onto your hair pulling you up making you look up at him, "Such a slut aren't you darling?" He spits on your face and it drips off of your face on the ground, is this really who you were such a despite slut that you would let a man do this to you?

Most definitely, you try smiling at him but it's a half-smile since you were in pain. "You holding up good slut?" He asks while looking you in your eyes, you nod as a response and try getting off of your sides.

You weren't damaged that badly you could always heal from it... He lets go of your hair once you were stable enough to stay on your knees. He takes his belt off and takes his pants down, he places the belt around your neck and ties it.

He takes his boxers off and grabs his dick which was already erected due to sadism. "C'mon slut, suck," He tugs on the end of the belt and you put your mouth on his dick, following rules in such a bad position in your life. Never would you have thought you would be sucking off Wilbur..

You take it slow at first not wanting to rush it since you weren't experienced as much, you mainly focus on the tip of his cock and rub your tongue over and over on his slit. Whenever he feels like he would release something he tugged on the belt making you gag on him.

It was hard to take him and focus on not being choked up by his belt, He's not the strongest of keeping his moans in. He climaxes inside of your mouth and some gets on your cheek, He wipes the semen off of your face.

"Is this okay darling?" he kisses your cheek and helps you clean yourself up, at least he did aftercare..

#wilbur soot smut #dsmp smut #x reader #mcyt x reader smut #mcyt smut #dream smp smut

789 notes · View notes

typewrittenluck · 3 years

Text

as the seasons change

C!Technoblade x gn!reader highschool!au

Word Count: 9.1k

Pronouns: they/them

A/N: this is literally so self indulgent, i spent a whole day writing this because im going through my techno feels rn. it basically follows the story of oblivious Y/N and Techno throughout the four seasons :)

Warnings: Underaged drinking, Swearing, Smoking, Drugs (very brief)

Suggested Songs: The State of Grace, Taylor Swift/ MEET ME AT OUR SPOT, THE ANXIETY, WILLOW, Tyler Cole/ that way, Tate McRae/ Falling, Chase Atlantic/ Compass, The Neighborhood

SUMMER------------

The August air was thick with the heat of the almost-setting sun. Her rays beat down on the backs of the group of teens, and mosquitos filled the silences between them with their incessant buzzing.

A small crack of static preceded the soft sound of music, accompanied by the sharp smack of Niki and Jack’s celebratory high-five.

“Didn’t you start setting up the speaker like an hour ago?” questioned Wilbur, who was sunk into a half-broken lawn chair that he had found in the garage.

“Yeah, it would have been much faster if you had asked Techno” chimed Y/N from their place leaning against the above mentioned man’s leg.

His grunt of response was cut short by his little brother, Tommy, bursting into laughter.

“Because he’s TECHno! Get it?!”

Everyone groaned and Wilbur smacked Tommy upside the head, grumbling about “shouldn’t have let you come hang out with us”

Y/N giggled at that, but took sympathy on the boy. “Aww don’t be like that Wil, Tommy, I thought that was hilarious.”

“Don’t encourage him, Y/N” Techno leaned down to murmured to them in his low, monotonous voice.

There it was. The way he said their name! The way his calf felt under Y/N’s back! The way he whispered sentences directly to them, as if it was some closely guarded secret. It was enough to bring butterflies to their stomach as they praised whatever higher being was out there for the heat of the day covering their blush.

“It’s so fucking hot,” Fundy moaned, kicking Wilburs shin from his place lying facedown on the grass. “Can we go to the pool or something?”

His request was met with a spectrum of responses, varying from Tommy’s “YES, PLEASE WILL? PLEASE!” to Technoblades indifferent shrug.

Jack took note of Technoblades open response with a shout of laughter. “TECHNOBLADE IN THE POOL! I WOULD PAY GOOD MON-”

“I’m not getting in, dumbass.”

“Why? Scared you’ll ruin your hair?”

“No, he doesn’t want us to know he’s secretly jacked under the sixteen sweaters he wears.”

Technoblade picked up the hem of his sweatshirt, making eye contact with Niki. She has a point.

“How do you wear that in the Summer?”

“It’s n- TOMMY!!”

Shrieks of laughter follow Tommy’s water gun assault on his brother. “When did he slip away to go get those?” Y/N wondered aloud.

“WHEN ARE WE LEAVING??” Tommy asked enthusiastically.

---

A crowded minivan, a stop to pick up Tommy’s friend, and a raid of Phil’s linen closet for pool towels later, the group arrived at the neighborhood pool. The sun hung low in the horizon as people spilled out of Phil’s van and began dragging the pool toys and water guns towards the gate.

The air around the black metal bars barring their entrance to the pool seemed to quiver.

“I think Wil has the pool key.” piped Niki in response to Fundy throwing his weight against the fence.

Fundy, in turn, sprinted back to the car, where Wilbur was taking inventory of snacks (and probably hiding the best for himself).

Technoblade looked down at the two younger boys and Y/N conversing in hushed whispers. All of a sudden, they screamed out in perfect synchronization, in equally high pitched voices,

“Let me innnn! Let me in pleaseeee!”

And promptly burst into giggles. Y/N almost toppled into Techno, both from laughing and the slight weariness from the heat.

The pool noodles he was balancing beneath his arms (laden with tote bags of pool toys and towels) toppled to the ground, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was Y/N’s hand steadying themself on his chest, and the way his face began to heat up almost unbearably considering the weather.

“Oops, sorry!” they squeaked, leaning down to pick up the fallen noodles.

Technoblade was burst out of his daze by the return of his brother and Fundy, who triumphantly swiped the access card against the pad before kicking the gate wide open.

The clang of metal against the concrete pool clubhouse sent reverberating waves into the air, and everyone winced as the metal continued to drag.

Pool entrances varied, Niki, on the one hand, took her time tip-toeing into the water by the stairs, while Tubbo and Tommy almost knocked each other out crashing over the edge to the deep end.

Y/N chuckled at their antics, but seeing as they had settled on not getting wet today, they picked out a chaise in the shade and pulled a book and pen out of the small bag they had brought with them.

Technoblade watched them with almost unwavering interest, unless someone happened to look his way, in which case he would quickly turn back to his phone, scrolling aimlessly through his home screen until they turned away.

From his spot under the little roof of the clubhouse, he had an almost unobstructed view of Y/N, and how they chewed at the end of the pen they used to annotate their book. Oh how he wished he could read the little notes they scribbled in the margins, or the drawings they would surround words with when they got distracted from reading. And the way that pen dangled from their lips, their tantalizing, soft lips. Taunting him, almost. And their jewel-like, bright eyes. Always so inviting and playful; like the way they were meeting his right now-

Shit

He hadn’t realized he’d been staring that intently. A small quirk of their eyebrow and a smirk on their lips was enough to make his heart give out. But not now. Not when they were waving their hand so intently to get him to sit next to them. Pretending to ponder the decision and gather his belongings, (when in reality he was just collecting his bearings), he walked over to them.

“See! You don’t always want to be alone, Mr. I’m so antisocial and I hate everyone!” they smiled, patting the adjacent seat.

You’re the only exception, he thought, his brain screaming and pushing to let the words leave his mouth. He couldn’t though, not when they could never think of him the way that he thought of them.

So he answered with a small smile and a chuckle.

“What are you reading?”

“The Picture of Dorian Gray! Remember you said you thought I’d enjoy it?” they answered with enthusiasm, that sparkle still evident in their eyes.

It warmed his heart to know that they had taken the suggestion and committed to the book, which was admittedly a pretty tough read, because of him.

“How could I forget?”

Their smile widened and they buried their head back in the book, that cursed pen once again being squished between their plush lips.

Technoblade peered over their shoulder to see that they were nearing the middle of the book, where Dorian returns from his theater date with Basil and Henry. Feeling satisfied enough that they were invested in the story, given their gasp and furious scribbling in the margins, he felt it safe enough to stare at them under the orange-tinged glow of the sunset.

Of course, he forgot about the crowd of his friends who were nudging each other and whispering about his infatuation with you. The whispers reached Wilbur who narrowed his eyes in his twin's direction and made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Once dark hit and the water began to run a little too cold for anyone's taste, they began to wrap themselves up in towels and raid Wilburs snack stashes. The snack distribution was cut off by Wilburs phone, screen lit up with a zoomed in photo of none other than Philza.

DADZA!!! Read the contact name as Wilbur swiped the screen and held the phone between his shoulder and ear, continuing to hand out snacks.

“OI, where in fucks sake are you lot? It’s an hour past the devils ass why i…”

The rest of Phil’s screaming faded as Wilbur walked away to calm his father down.

“AN HOUR PAST THE DEVILS ASS” Y/N screamed with laughter, sending the entire group into raucous peals of giggles.

“Yep, mhhm, we’ll be there” Wilbur walked back towards the group, motioning for everyone to get in the car.

“Yes dad I know, yes, okay we will drop him off. Okay, bye” Hanging up the phone, he ushered people back into the car, holding Tubbo back by his upper arm so that he could sit with easiest access to the door.

After dropping Tubbo off, and then doubling back and driving around town to drop people off at various houses, Technoblade, Tommy and Wilbur were alone in the car with Y/N.

“Here. Here. WIL! Pull over!”

The van screeched to a halt as Y/N clambered over Tommy’s long legs, almost falling out onto the pavement. They leaned against the door of the passenger seat, thanking Wilbur and bidding farewell to the brothers. Just before they stepped away, Technoblade leaned down and kissed the crown of their head where it was leaning against his open window. Their stunned expression was lost in the dark and the window slid shut as Wilbur slammed the gas pedal to make it back in time before his dad’s curfew.

“What the fuck was that”

Technoblade gave him a glare, which lost its effectiveness when paired with the burning red blush flooding his face and neck, highlighted under the harsh white lights of the car. He turned his face away and resigned to staring out the window, the night air filtering through the small crack giving his face a little bit of relief.

“Okay at least tell me, are you together?”

“No.”

“But he likes them!” piped up Tommy from the back seat, looking up from his phone where he was playing a game.

“No I- I don’t” Damnit The crack in his voice gave it away.

Wilbur, sensing that it seemed to be more of a sensitive topic than he thought, decided to drop the subject for the time being, and Tommy was already absorbed back in his game.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence as they raced against time and the rules of Philza Minecraft.

AUTUMN----------------------

School started a few weeks after the pool night, which was followed by many late nights and summer fun by the friends, the knowledge that half of them would be away to college next year heavy in the atmosphere. To say the least, Junior year was not treating Y/N well. They were almost always working on homework, if not doing SAT prep, and they rarely went out with their friends. The only time Technoblade got to see them was during his AP Lit class, and because of it, he considered himself the luckiest man in the world. Ms. Ren’s Literature classroom was the only place Technoblade seemed to see the old Y/N, the one from over the summer who got enthusiastic over books and gave him playful punches when he was a little too mean to their friends. Now, the only Y/N he saw was a stressed, tired person who was always carrying an energy drink in one hand and a stack of homework in the other. Except for in Lit. Y/n’s eyes would brighten as they discussed the reading from the previous night and their legs would jostle Technoblades from under their shared table to show him an annotation they had made. Technoblade assumed they were just rejuvenated from the literature, never once letting the thought cross his mind that maybe, just maybe, he was part of the equation too.

On the rare occasion that they would hang out with their friends, they would be easily prone to tears and every conversation would be redirected to how tired and stressed they were. Of course, Technoblade wanted them to be happy, and felt enormous empathy for his friend in the harshest year of high school, but he had suddenly become hyper-aware that the clock was ticking on his time left with them. He was a senior this year, and while Y/N still had a year left to go, Technoblade would be on his way to college, perhaps out of the country, in less than a year. It wasn’t wrong to want to make the most of his time with them.

It didn’t help that this internal time bomb was also counting down the opportunities he had left to tell them how he felt.

-----

He decided to get to them when they were in a good mood, and more likely to say yes. After Ms. Ren had finished assigning the reading due by Monday, he turned to the beautiful person who sat next to him and muttered in a low voice,

“How’s your weekend looking?”

They looked up with a bright smile and whispered back

“I have tons of homework but I should be able to knock it out with a good day of work. Why? What do you have in mind?”

He knew this was the right time to ask you.

“Just be ready by 4pm on Saturday.”

----

Technoblade sat on the edge of his usually neat bed, now strewn with almost every sweater he owned. He was picking a stray piece of lint from the sweater nearest to him when he saw his brother walk past, then backtrack out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s got you all indecisive?” Wilbur asked, gesturing vaguely to the sweaters and random articles of clothing adorning his room.

“Wait! Is today your date with Y/N?”

“It’s not a date.” grumbled Technoblade.

“Then why are you so stressed about what to wear?” he replied with raised eyebrows.

Technoblade groaned and threw himself on top of the pile of wool on his bed. “I just need this to be perfect. Y/N needs a break, and they deserve everything to be just right.”

“And you want to impress them” sang Wilbur, now nudging Techno aside to sift through his sweaters.

Technoblades noise of indignation was muffled as Wilbur threw a cream colored sweatshirt at his face.

“What about this?”

“I couldn’t find what to wear it with.”

Wilburs sigh rang through Technoblades room as he opened the closet, now in his proper mindset as the family fashion consultant. Garment after garment was thrown in Techno’s general direction, and he leaned and reached to grab them all.

“Try that”

Technoblade walked out of the bathroom to find Wilbur rummaging through his jewelry.

“When did I say it was fine for you to go through my stuff?” asked Technoblade, shoving Wilbur away. Wilbur shrugged in response, motioning for Techno to open his hand so that he could drop his selection of rings and necklaces into his open palm.

As Wilbur walked out the door, he thought he heard a faint “thank you”, and smiled to himself.

-----

“This is elaborate”

“I’m a dynamic man Y/N.”

Y/N laughed at his response to the back seat of Technoblades car, which was filled with “supplies” for the evening.

“That outfit sure is dynamic.”

“Why?” Technoblade asked nervously, drumming slightly on the steering wheel. “Do you like it?”

“I love it! I didn’t think you could get any hotter but you somehow pulled it off!”

Realizing what they said, Y/N’s cheeks flushed a deep red and they began to pick at their flannel. As soon as Technoblades surprise wore off, and the butterflies faded back to the dull sensation that always seemed to linger when he was around them, he let out a snort of laughter. That sent both of them into a fit which continued until Technoblade hit a pothole from laughing so hard.

Y/N’s momentary fear only made them laugh harder, but Technoblade attempted to quell himself before he no longer had four functioning tires.

“Do I get to know where you’re taking me?” Y/N asked. They had driven a little ways out from the city, to the vaguely familiar areas that one only drives by when they’re leaving town.

“Yes.” He replied, slowing the car into a small parking lot. “Because we’re here.”

The pair entered the small bookshop and a bell rang overhead. The store smelled of dust and books and Technoblade saw Y/N breathing the scent in like a breath of new life. Of course, this ended up in a small coughing fit which he pulled them out of with a few pats to their upper back.

“Okay we are on somewhat of a schedule, so I need you to go get a book. Any book, and meet me back at the register in 10 minutes.” He said, grabbing them by the shoulders and making direct eye contact. “Okay, Go!”

And they both got lost in the mazes of words.

At 4:30 sharp, Y/N found Technoblade waiting for them at the register with a stiff red hardcover. He reached out for their book as they reached for their wallet.

“Tech, no, you don’t have to buy me books I can get it myself”

If for nothing else, the way they shortened the already shortened version of his name made his heart stutter, and he was overcome with the sudden urge to buy them every book in this store. But he wordlessly nodded his head ‘no’ and paid for their two books.

As they walked back to the car, Y/N admired the way his jewelry glistened in the sun. The gold necklaces contrasting against the black turtleneck he wore under his sweatshirt made them think of the summer, when his rings would shine under the sun and in the light of their almost nightly group bonfire. Technoblade opened the door for them when they got to the car, pink hair flying in his face because of the wind. Before getting in, Y/N threw their arms around his neck in a hug.

“Thanks”

They mumbled into his neck.

He blamed his pink cheeks on the cold.

-----

“Let me carry something!” Y/N argued as Technoblade led them down the path of a park a little ways away from the bookstore.

“No.” he answered, a basket and three bags dangling from his arms.

The argument continued as they made their way down the paved path, leaves crunching underneath their feet. A little ways into the walk, when the conversation had faded to discussing the latest reading assigned by Ms. Ren, Technoblade stopped Y/N by throwing a tote bag-laden arm against their chest.

“Here.”

He parted the branches that covered a small, unpaved path that led deeper into the trees.

“How do I know you’re not trying to lure me here to kill me?” mused Y/N, already a few steps ahead of the pink-haired man on the pine-straw path.

“Yeah hold on, let me just get my axe out from this basket real quick” deadpanned Technoblade, earning a giggle from Y/N.

A few moments later, the path opened up to a clearing with a few fallen logs and a small brook trickling near the edge.

“This is beautiful Tech! How did you find this?” they asked with an awestruck expression.

He hid the way that his ears flushed with his hair and busied himself laying out the picnic supplies he had dragged all the way out here, mumbling something unintelligible.

Once he was done, he looked up to find an empty clearing, Y/N nowhere to be found.

“Y/N?” he called

He received a response in the form of a small yelp and a rather loud splash. “Over here!”

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked, sprinting over to the edge of the stream. Their giggles calmed him a little bit, but didn’t absolve him of all his worry as he subtly looked them over for any injuries.

“I thought the rock would be steady enough to hold me” they pouted, gesturing vaguely at the rock in question, now shiny with water.

Technoblade sighed, rolling his eyes at their antics, but hoisted them up nonetheless. Once they were back on solid ground, he curled his finger around the back of his sweatshirt's neckline and pulled it over his head, almost knocking off his glasses in the process. He missed the way Y/N’s eyes narrowed and focused on the way his black knit turtleneck hugged his figure, tucked into the dark brown trousers Wilbur had dug out of his closet just hours previously.

“Are you warm?” asked Y/N with an incredulous look, teeth slightly chattering.

“It’s for you, dumbass. You’re almost sure to get sick in those wet clothes.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered at the gesture, and at the way Technoblade shushed them when they tried to argue.

He turned away as Y/N shed their dripping flannel and replaced it with the sweatshirt, warmed by his own body heat.

When he turned back, he almost lost his breath again. Seeing them in his sweatshirt, the sleeves dangling past their fingertips and their hair a little tousled from pulling the garment over their head, messed with him just a little bit. He ignored the way that his cold-nipped nose was turning redder and redder and instead gently picked up their hand to guide them over to where he had set up the picnic, next to a towering tree with a thick trunk.

Both of them were hyper-aware of the way that his fingers held theirs, and the warmth that seemed to radiate from their touch. Neither one of them wanted to let go, but as they plopped down onto the picnic blanket sitting on the ground, their grip fell apart.

The loss of contact made the October day seem colder.

The muffled crunching of the leaves under their butts filled the air as they settled into a comfortable position and began digging through the picnic basket Technoblade had brought with food. The tension in the air slowly faded as they began to eat and the atmosphere filled with the joyous conversation of the two painfully oblivious teenagers.

When they had both finished eating, Technoblade pulled out the bag that he had brought from the bookstore and handed Y/N their book. The smile that graced their lips as they mumbled out another ‘thank you’ brought another wave of butterflies down Technoblades stomach. He pulled out his own book and made himself comfortable against the thick tree trunk behind him. Y/N reached into their back pocket and pulled out a ballpoint pen, the cap of the pen riddled with chew marks.

The damn pen.

They stuck it between their teeth and let it hang off of the right side of their mouth. Technoblade felt his chest heat up as they nudged him over to share his spot leaning against the tree. He opened his phone and hit play on a mix of Arctic Monkeys and Gang of Youths, before leaning back to where his shoulder was pressed with theirs and opened his book.

Time seemed to forget its rules in this quiet little forest, with just Y/N and Technoblade lost in their separate worlds of words. The peace was only ever disturbed by Y/N occasionally scribbling something down in the margin of their book, to which Technoblade would demand to see, and they would fall into a small discussion about the topic.

These occasions slowly began to wane off until Technoblade felt Y/N lean their head against him with a thud. He looked down to see them fast asleep, half leaning on his shoulder with the pen still clutched between their fingers. He took note of the way the pen was balanced like a cigarette and the small puffs of air following their cold breath resembled smoke. Ignored the way his heart was almost convulsing on itself, he chose to wrap his arm around them and savour the moment.

Because he was aware that before he knew it, it would be over.

WINTER---------------------------

The student media center had a hushed atmosphere to it, as people took advantage of their last afternoon to study for semester finals. Winter break would let out the next day, but for the overwhelmed Juniors and Seniors now crowding the library, the excitement would not set in until they quelled their nervousness over the last final of the semester.

One of the study rooms situated in the back was now crowded with the notorious friend group as they crammed for their last final. Fundy, Jack and Niki were trading around their history notes, Wilbur and Minx were arguing over the proper situation of a unit circle, and Technoblade was flash quizzing Y/N on the Polyatomic ions. Their frantic studying was interrupted by their friend, George, who had gotten bored of watching his two best friends during their last football practice of the semester. He quietly walked in and took a seat in the corner, pulling out a notebook and studying something or the other.

“Why aren't Dream and Sapnap here cramming with us?” Minx asked George.

“They have their ‘weightlifting’ final tomorrow” seethed George, most likely jealous of his friends’ somewhat pointless final.

Everyone laughed, and some groans of similar jealousy rang through the air right before the cracking loudspeaker of the school crunched to life, announcing that the doors would close at 6:00. Y/N looked down at their watch face, which read 5:45.

“Fuck, I’m never going to learn these charges! Don’t even get me started on the fact that I don’t have the solubility rules memorized!” squeaked Y/N in frustration. Everyone gave them a sympathetic look, knowing the rigorous emotional and mental demands of taking AP Chemistry.

“Don’t worry, you still have the whole night to study!” consoled Fundy.

Technoblade felt his heart break at the way their eyes filled with tears of frustration.

“My siblings scream way too much, I can never concentrate at home”

“Come study at our house!” exclaimed Wilbur. “We can kick Tommy out so he won’t bother you!”

Wilbur sensed their hesitation and cut in before they could say ‘no’

“Come on, Dad won’t mind, he loves you! And it gives us an excuse to send Tommy out!”

Y/N turned their head in questioning to Technoblade, who grunted and nodded his head.

“I mean, if you’re sure”

Eager nodding.

“Thanks so much Wil!”

---

It was 11:50 and Phil’s living room resembled something closer to an FBI clue board, with flashcards and chemistry notes strewn on every possible surface. Wilbur had retired to bed after reviewing his Calculus notes one last time, and Tommy was spending the night at Tubbo’s. Phil leaned against the doorway and watched his son coach his best friend through the last few chapters of the textbook with a smile on his face.

“Make sure not to go to sleep too late! You need enough sleep for your final!” he called, retreating up the stairs.

Y/N checked their watch and sighed at the time. “I should get going soon.” they mumbled, beginning to collect their notes.

“Stay the night” suggested Technoblade, pulling a blanket over their shoulders to protect them from the December chill that seemed ever-present, even with the crackling fireplace illuminating the room.

“I can’t-” A yawn cut their sentence “I can’t stay, I don't have anything and I’ve wasted enough of your time already”

Technoblade took them by the shoulders and looked them in the eyes, albeit having to lean down. “You can never waste my time”

Shivers ran through Y/N’s tired body and they offered him a weak smile.

He plucked the pen that was hanging from their mouth out and feigned disgust as he wiped it on their shirt, before throwing it in the pile of stationary by his feet.

“How about you stay for a hot chocolate?”

The invitation was too hard to resist so they gave in, as long as it was “only ten more minutes”.

Technoblade filled two mugs from the pot of the beverage that Phil had left on the stove, and topped it with marshmallows and whipped cream.

Y/N took the mug from him with a ‘thank you!’, and led the way back to the living room to nestle under the warmth of the fireplace. The pair were both exhausted from the day of studying, and chose to sip their beverages in silence. Before either of them knew it, they were both asleep under Y/N’s blanket, cuddled up against the cold of the night.

---

They woke up to the banging of Wilbur running down the stairs.

“Shit, you two are still asleep?”

Y/N jumped up, knocking over their empty mug in the process. “Fuck, what time is it?” they asked, urgently rummaging around for their bag.

“8:00”

“What time is your final?” grumbled Technoblade, still half-asleep with no intention to get up until his final later that day.

“8:20” they whined, almost breaking down.

“Hey, it’s fine, go get clothes from my room, take anything you want. I’ll drive you.” said Technoblade in a calming voice.

Y/N looked at him with desperate eyes and thanked him before retracing the familiar path to his bedroom.

Technoblade cracked his back and followed Wilbur into the kitchen, intending to make Y/N a nutritious breakfast and pack them a lunch, but was met with Wilburs smirking face.

“What’s the deal?” said Technoblade in his monotonous low, pulling things from out of the fridge.

“Are we going to ignore that you and Y/N slept together?”

“Gross you perv, we just fell asleep studying”

Wilburs smart-ass response was cut off by the arrival of the person in question, clad in one of Technoblades sweaters and sweatpants and ripping their fingers through their hair to attempt to tame it.

Technoblade ignored the all-too-familiar flutter of his heart at seeing them in his clothes and handed them a yogurt bowl he put together. “Let’s go, you can eat it in the car.”

They definitely broke laws driving at breakneck speed, but they pulled into the school parking lot at 8:15 and jumped out of the car, Technoblade following them to make sure they made it to the Chemistry classroom on time. With a minute and a half to spare, they arrived at the door to the classroom, earning a sigh of relief from both of them.

Dr. Yachtrong ushered Y/N into the classroom, but not before Technoblade placed a kiss on their forehead and wished them good luck. They entered the classroom in a daze, which they quickly shook off when the tests were passed out.

---

The final bell rang for the day and the cheers rang around the school, drowning out the crunchy loudspeaker announcements to “have a good Christmas” and to “make good decisions”. Y/N had headed off to their last few classes following the Chemistry final, which had gone as good as one could expect a Chemistry exam to go. They were fairly sure they had passed which at this point, was a major win. As they left the History hallway, they saw their friend Karl leaving the art classroom.

“Karl!” they waved him down.

“HEY! Y/N!!!” he giggled excitedly “Schools out!”

“I know!”

Excited chatter filled the hallways and they bumped into Sapnap, Punz, and Dream leaving the weights room.

“How was your weightlifting final?” snickered Y/N

Punz answered with a slight push to their head. The group was shot out at the front courtyard, where almost all of their other friends were waiting.

The celebratory mood was punctuated by Karl inviting everyone over for an “Epic School Sucks Party” at his house later that night.

Y/N looked around, searching for the pink-haired man that had been flooding their thoughts more than usual lately.

He had been acting differently, nervous even, since the day they fell asleep on him at the park. Y/N was only scared last night's incident would make it worse.

“He’s probably finishing up his Latin stuff” murmured Wilbur, leaning down to their ear.

Y/N’s ears burnt a bright red upon knowing that Wilbur knew who they were looking for. They looked up to answer, but he had already gotten immersed in a conversation with Quackity and George.

The man in question came out of the front doors of the building and made a beeline for their cluster of people upon seeing them. Y/N couldn’t help but admire the cuffs he wore on his slightly pointed ears, and the way his long pink hair fell behind his-

“Oi Y/N is that Technoblades sweater?”

Screw you Minx

“Y/N spent a surprise night over last night” snickered Wilbur, wiggling his eyebrows.

“It's. Not. Like. That.” screeched Y/N, punctuating each word with a smack to Wilbur, somewhat drowned in the laughs and gasps of everyone in their group.

“Why are we hitting Wilbur and can I join?” asked Technoblade once he integrated himself into the tangle of people. The laughs hushed as everyone turned to look between Y/N and Technoblade.

“What?”

-----

The heat of Niki’s curling iron sent warm shivers down Y/N’s neck, a grateful contrast to the harsh December chill plaguing the outdoors. She blew gently on the warm hair before letting it all fall back, tousling it to break up the curls.

“Thanks Niki!” said Y/N gratefully, examining themselves in the mirror. “You’re going to have to teach me how to do this someday.”

Niki laughed, already standing in front of the bathroom mirror to apply her eyeliner. With one eye closed, she spoke to the person now standing behind her, checking their outfit from different angles.

“So really, what’s going on between you and Technoblade?”

She knew of their intense crush on the pink-haired boy, which had started somewhere between 8th grade and freshman year, but she also knew that Y/N tended to be more closed off about their deep personal life.

Y/N sighed, almost in disappointment. “Nothing. And that’s the problem.”

Due to Niki’s sympathetic look thrown their way, they fell down a rabbit hole of ranting which led them to where they were now; on the floor beside Niki’s bed with Y/N’s head in her lap.

“He always acts so weird around me. One minute he’s holding my hand or kissing my forehead, and the next he won't even look at me, or only answers in short sentences. And it stresses me out because I think he hates me, but then he does shit like buying me books just to go read in a forest with him, or staying up all night with me to study for my Chemistry final, and I just-” They took a deep breath, containing their rambling.

“I just get more confused.”

----------

Karls party was in full swing by the time Niki and Y/N got there. They were met at the door by Sapnap and Quackity, who for some reason were handcuffed to each other, and were both giggling and flushed. Y/N and Niki hung their coats on the rack by the door and walked into the festive atmosphere of the house, seeing familiar faces in every corner.

Despite the rowdy environment and the deafening noise, the party was relatively small, consisting of only 20 or so of Karls friends.

They followed Quackity and Sapnap into the living room where a semi-circle of people was lounging on various couches, passing around a blunt and playing what seemed to be truth or dare.

Ah. That’s where the handcuffs came from.

Niki and Y/N decided to play, Niki offering to go fetch them both drinks in the kitchen as Y/N found their place in the circle. To their surprise, Technoblade was there, seemingly uninterested in the game and more invested in something he was doing on his phone. Upon seeing Y/N, he gave them a smile, cheeks flushed with alcohol, and gestured to the small spot between him and the couch armrest. All eyes followed Y/N as they perched on the armrest, mumbling a small ‘hi!’ to Technoblade.

Niki returned with two drinks in hand and shared a knowing glance with Y/N, as well as a miniscule smile, before handing them their drink and taking a seat on a cushion next to Jack and Minx.

“Okay okay, In honor of our new guests arriving, Y/N, truth or dare?”

Y/N knew by the looks everyone was giving them that choosing truth would not be the best option.

“Dare.”

A small sigh of disappointment left Karls lips before a mischievous light came into his eyes and he perked up again. “I dare you to sit in Technoblade’s lap”

Snickers echoed across the group as Technoblade looked up at the sound of his name. He looked up to where Y/N was balancing themself on the edge of the couch, and with some burst of courage, that was probably induced by the alcohol, he wrapped his arm around their waist to tug them into his lap with a squeak of surprise.

After recovering from their initial embarrassment, Y/N turned to the man whose lap they were in. “Techno, truth or dare?”

He huffed but quietly breathed out “Truth”, suddenly very aware of how close their face was to his. After a few brief seconds of eye contact which seemed to last an eternity, they stuttered out

“Umm, do you,- actually, how did, how did they get you to play? This game... I mean?”

“BOO! WHAT A BORING FOOKIN QUESTION!” called Minx from the cushion she was on.

His response of how he didn’t mean to get dragged in to this “stupid middle schoolers game” was slightly slurred as he took a big chug of whatever liquid was floating around his red solo cup.

This worried Y/N. They never saw Technoblade drink more than enough to get him slightly tipsy, but they brushed it off on end-of-the-semester excitement. In any case, they would confront him when they got the opportunity to talk to him alone.

---

Said opportunity arose after the Pizza arrived, and most people began to file into Karls movie room to watch whatever garbage show he decided on running. Y/N stayed back, intending to have full access to the pizza and Technoblade, noticing this, stayed with them. Y/N hopped up onto a counter and pulled the pizza boxes to them.

“Hey Tech?”

“Heh?”

“Are you okay? I haven't seen you drink this much before?” they asked, running a concerned hand through his hair before pressing it to his forehead to check how hot he was.

His eyes closed and he nuzzled into their touch.

“I guess I’m just nervous.”

“Nervous? What do you have to be nervous about? It’s winter break” they answered, a small smile on their beautiful face.

This was his chance.

“I have to start applying for colleges.”

Fuck, he missed it.

-----

The food brought a new bought of energy to everyone at the party, and by 3 in the morning, the celebration was still heavy in the air. Everyone thanked whatever brought Karl’s parents to buy a house far removed from any close neighborhoods, so the noise wouldn’t earn them a police visit.

Loud music blared from the speakers in the living room, which had been cleared of furniture to make space for the energetic teenagers.

Y/N took turns dancing with Niki, Minx, and Jack before being stolen away by Sapnap who spun them around until they almost threw up. Eventually, Y/N ended up on the outskirts of the dancefloor, where they saw their favorite apathetic pig-boy leaning against a corner, snickering at everyone who was embarrassing themselves in their drunken haze.

“WANNA DANCE?” asked Y/N leaning towards him to enunciate over the music.

How could he say no? When they were looking up at him with those big, bright eyes and a slight sheen of sweat over their face.

-----

The party began to dissipate nearing the hours of dawn. Around 5, people began trickling out. Except for the select few who had decided to just crash with Karl.

Technoblade and Wilbur parked a little ways away from their house, walking the rest of the way and ushering each other up the tree by Wilburs bedroom to sneak back in.

It was locked.

“You dimwit, didn’t you unlock the window?”

“Of course I did you arse, where do you think I snuck out from?”

Their bickering was interrupted by a small tap on the glass by none other than a smirking Tommy.

“Leave it to him to only wake up when he wants to annoy us”

“Tommy, let us in.”

Tommy made a rubbing motion with his index finger and thumb. Looking at Wilbur and sighing, Technoblade pulled his wallet out and held up a 10.

Tommy made a ‘more’ motion

20. Then 40. Then 50.

“So generous of you lads, come on in!” he giggled, snatching the money from his brother and leaving the window open for the two to clamber in awkwardly.

Technoblade snuck back into his room, stripping off his sweaty clothes and falling onto the mattress. Before he blacked out, he saw two notifications come in.

BitchBur: I took these pictures tn, thought u might want them ;) (8 images attached)

And

Y/N <3: I hope you figure out the college situation! <3 let me know if you can hang out sometime :D

He opened Wilburs text to find a collection of candid pictures Wilbur had snapped over the course of the night. One of Y/N in his lap, a few of them laughing together over pizza, a few of them on the dance floor, and what had to be his favorite: a picture of them kissing his cheek as a ‘good luck’ for his arm wrestle with Dream.

A smile creeped onto his face and he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for his brother. He set the last picture as his wallpaper before turning off his phone and falling into a realm of blackness.

SPRING------------------

“That was my very last AP Exam!” exclaimed Y/N, walking through the door of the coffee house where all their friends were lounging.

The small shop erupted with cheers as they celebrated everyone finishing their school year. The cheers eventually died out, though, as the realization sunk in. Tomorrow was graduation.

The seniors in the group, Wilbur, Technoblade, Minx and Fundy were all going off to college.

Wilbur to England, Fundy to the Netherlands, and Minx to Ireland. The one person who hadn’t decided on a college yet was Technoblade.

“Why do you all have to leave the country?” whined Y/N.

A chorus of similar sentiments left the other juniors who were scattered around a few tables that had been pushed together.

As the conversation descended into dorms and expenses, Y/N received a text from Technoblade. The shock of the ‘ding’ made the pen that had been balancing between their lips clatter onto the floor.

Apathetic pig-boy: come outside

Y/N looked around, not having noticed that Technoblade had disappeared from the table. Taking advantage of the conversation everyone else was immersed in, they quietly snuck out, but not without avoiding Wilburs keen eyes, which narrowed upon realizing his brother was not at the table.

They wandered outside, finding Technoblade sitting at one of the outdoor tables covered by the awning.

“My Yale email came in.” he said as soon as he saw them walk outside.

They jumped with barely contained joy. “What did it say?”

“I wanted you to be here when I opened it.”

Everyone knew that Technoblades dream college was Yale. He had talked about it ever since he was a little kid, screaming about Greek mythology on the school playground. Y/N knew that it was Technoblades biggest ambition to study literature at one of the most renowned colleges in the world, but they still felt a twinge of sadness. On top of losing half their friends, they couldn’t lose the one person that meant the most to them too.

“Open it!”

Y/N leaned against the back of Technoblades chair, almost falling over his shoulder as they watched the loading icon on the college’s website.

Technoblade clicked on the notification and they both read it together

Congratulations! We are glad to inform you…

“THAT YALE UNIVERSITY HAS DECIDED TO ACCEPT YOUR APPLICATION! TECH I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!” Screamed Y/N, wrapping their arms around his shocked figure. They placed a million kisses all over his face, gushing about how proud they were of him, ignoring the gut wrenching feeling inside of them.

“What’s the screaming about? Did you two finally get together?” Asked Wilbur as the group flooded out of the coffee shop to see what the commotion was about.

“Yale accepted me.” mumbled Technoblade, just loud enough for them to hear.

The cheers that followed his announcement almost made their small hometown collapse. Congratulations were exchanged and backs were pat, and in the mess, Y/N managed to sneak off to the side. The only person who noticed was Niki, who followed them to the corner of the parking lot where they were kicking at the asphalt with their converse. She sat down, and the two rested in silence, the April wind blowing their hair all over the place.

“He’s leaving.” He’s leaving me. They wanted to say, but they didn't.

Niki gave her friend a small side hug, somehow interpreting the sentence accurately. “He’s pursuing his dreams Y/N, you know he doesn’t want to leave you.”

“How do I make him stay? It’s selfish and I’d feel like a bitch but Niki I don’t think I can live without him.”

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“You need to tell him how you feel.”

----

The next day brought sunny skies and the enthusiastic atmosphere of graduation. They had all managed to snag themselves some graduation tickets to see their friends finish high school.

Jack, Niki, and Y/N were sitting in a Wendy’s parking lot, waiting for the clock to hit 11:45 so they could start making their way to school. It seemed empty without the Seniors of the group, as they were all at school getting ready for the ceremony. Y/N voiced this concern aloud, to which Jack responded, “We’ll have to get used to it. This is how it’s going to be next year.”

And the three fell into silence, sullenly dipping their fries into their frostys.

----

Jack, Niki, and Y/N let themselves be jostled into school with the crowds of emotional parents and kids who were already bored of the event. They found decent seats, near the front aisle and set their belongings down.

Not a moment later, they were greeted by Philza, who filed in with the rest of the boys extended family to sit beside them.

The dimming of the lights led to hushed whispers erupting from the previously rowdy crowd.

Procedure came and went, the salutatorian and valedictorian giving their respective addresses to the crowd, the speech of the somewhat bored principal, and finally,

“Without further ado, presenting the Graduating Class of 2021!”

Cheers erupted from the crowd as names began to be called.

Within the first five minutes, the boredom began to set in and Jack began a game pigeon game, which Phil demanded to be added to. The four played the digital card game until they were pulled out of their concentration by a familiar name being called. They erupted into cheers as Fundy walked across the stage to pick up his diploma and shake the Principal’s hand. The process was repeated until Minx, her eyes shining as she shook the principal's hand earnestly, then flipped him off quickly behind his back, which sent the auditorium into a fit of laughter.

Person after person was called up, until...

“Technoblade Minecraft”

Philza almost cried. He stood on his chair, screaming in excitement for his son which made the boy in question flush as he collected his diploma and took a rather rushed leave off the stage, but not before seeing the heart that Y/N made with their fingers in his direction.

The same general act happened during Wilburs announcement, except that he laughed and gave his dad a cheering motion with his hands.

---

The group spilled out onto the lawn of the school, congratulating people they knew when they saw them. Technoblade and Wilbur joined their family, receiving hugs from a very emotional Tommy. Y/N, Niki, and Jack waited behind for their friends to finish up with their families before tackling them in hugs. Screams and whoops came from the puddle of people on the floor, everyone yelling things to each other. The atmosphere was charged with happiness, and relief, and one couldn’t help but feel elation despite the bittersweet nature of graduation.

“Alright mates, party at my house!” boomed Philza over the noise.

The infamous graduation party. They had planned the two-part party in middle school, when they had had their first sleepover at the group's “hub”, aka Philza’s house. Since then, the party had become a reality and the first part would be executed tonight. The next being, of course, when the remaining half of the group graduated.

A marquis was set up in Phil’s garden, now uncluttered and full of spring blossoms. It was such a different atmosphere than it had been last summer, when their bonfires would stretch out into the early hours of the morning.

Food laden tables were scattered around the marquis, and to everyone's delight, a chocolate fountain rested on one of them.

After collecting food and gifts from various guests, the group found themselves sitting under the shade of a large tree with a rickety old treehouse balancing on it, which Tommy and Tubbo were attempting to devise a plan to get into with the help of their friend Ranboo, who didn’t seem as enthusiastic about the idea as the others.

“My flight leaves next week.” sighed Minx, leaning against Niki’s shoulder.

“I’ll be out of here by July the latest”

“Phil’s taking us to London next week and I’ll just be staying”

Everyone turned to Technoblade to reveal when he would be leaving for college.

“I’m going to Connecticut a week before the beginning of the term”

“So how long will you be home this summer?” Y/N asked, setting down their cookie.

“Between travelling and dorm set-up, I’ll probably only be here for about two weeks total.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears as they pushed their head into Technoblades chest.

“I just-” sniffle “I just can’t believe you’re all leaving!” they cried, muffled by Technoblades button down.

This sent everyone into a fit of tears as they all began hugging each other for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

The moment was interrupted by Phil, who came out of the house with a camera and various props. Encouraging everyone to gather around and take pictures. Everyone scuffled around to fix their disheveled appearances and began making their way to Phils makeshift photo booth.

“Tech- wait!” called Y/N, pulling him back by the forearm. “Your hair”

They put pressure on his shoulders to get him to lean down so that they could fix his stray hairs.

Right then, looking at the way Y/N’s shoes sank into the ground and feeling their light touch in his hair, he decided. I have to tell them. This is my last chance.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I-” deep breaths, “I need you to-”

“Come on, lovebirds get in the picture!” called Phil, walking over to drag them to where everyone else was.

Y/N gave him an apologetic look, woven with the silent promise of later.

Damnit Dad.

----

The pictures had lasted what felt like eons, but between the corny props and the harsh afternoon sunlight, they held valuable memories.

But Technoblade had no interest in them at the moment, as he dragged Y/N behind the trunk of the tree they had sat at before.

The sunlight filtering through the leaves made Y/N’s face all that much more beautiful, and Technoblade struggled to tear his attention away to focus on telling them. He gathered up his courage and opened his mouth to speak.

But the only thing that came out was “OW!”

As a pinecone bonked off his head and rolled away on the ground, leaving chips of it in his hair.

“Look out below!” Called Tubbo from somewhere above them. So they managed to get in. Damnit.

Y/N took his hand and led him to the other side of the tree, away from the boys’ field of destruction. They sat down gently, pulling Technoblade down with them to pluck the pieces of pinecone out of his hair.

“Here. Distraction free! Now tell me what you’ve been trying to say because there’s something I need to tell you too.”

That gave Technoblade the perfect opportunity to gather his nerves. “You go first”

“No, it’s fine you!”

“No you go!”

It seemed as if the stars had collided and sent out particles so many eons ago with the knowledge that everything would lead up to these two kids coming to the same conclusion at the same time.

“I love you”

Their eyes met as they stared, wide-eyed and gaping-mouthed at each other. Overcoming the initial shock, they began to ramble.

“I didn’t think you felt the same way because you always got quiet around me and then you woul-”

“Can I kiss you?” Technoblade interrupted them, not really hearing their rambling through the buzz going through his brain.

They nodded shyly in response as he wrapped his hand around the back of their neck to pull them dizzyingly, tauntingly closer. He looked into their eyes one more time to make sure they were serious, but Y/N was already closing the gap between their lips. They hoisted themselves into his lap and gripped his hair to bring him impossibly closer.

But alas, in this group of people, nothing goes unnoticed or undisturbed.

“EW! TECHNO’S KISSING Y/N!” screamed Tommy from the balcony of the treehouse which resulted in whoops and cheers from everyone at the party.

“FINALLY!” yelled someone amongst the crowd.

Y/N felt their ears burn a bright red as they buried their face into Techno’s neck.

“Yeah Y/N! Get some!”

“Oh fuck off!”

A/N: i hope u guys liked it :D, also this is my first time writing with they/them pronouns so if i made a mistake pls don’t hesitate to correct me!

#c!techno #technoblade #technoblade x reader #mcyt x reader #technoblade fluff #technofluff

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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

Text

A Helping Hand - Bucky Barnes x Reader (f)

(Gif: @sebastianruinedme )

Summary: After a stressful week, you try to wind down with some personal time but nothing quite hits that spot. And a certain Super Soldier may just be more than willing to help you.

Warnings: 18+ Smut - Masturbation/toys, Oral (f receiving), fingering, neck play, arm/hand kink, dirty talk, a faint Dom theme if you squint, swearing – honestly, Bucky should just be a kink in himself.

Word count: 5k+ words full of hot playtime.

A/N: This is just filth, to be honest. I was feeling a certain way after watching episode 3 of TFATWS and seeing that scene with Bucky cleaning his hand and… ideas happened, and this was born. There’s not really a plot… simply enjoy.

Smut under the cut!!

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal

Part 2

There was something to be said about the advancement of toys in recent years.

There were hundreds of them. All different types. For all different things.

Rabbits, waterproof vibrators, pulsating and pounding ones, ones that felt like oral, handsfree vibrators, remote control vibrators – the list went on.

You had a lot. Tucked in a drawer of your dresser in a pretty box that just made you go all tingly in the knees every time you saw it.

You were proud of your collection.

And boy, did you love them.

They never let you down, ever.

But unfortunately, tonight was just not one of those nights.

It has been a tough week.

Not only had you taken a beating in training yesterday, but you were also late for an appointment across the city, which resulted in being yelled at by Fury.

You really regretted decided to help him when he needed it.

There wasn’t a lot going on lately, so you offered to help Fury when he needed it.

Usually, you were on his food side.

Yesterday, not so much.

Everything seemed out to get you, and after the shit show of the week, you just wanted to treat yourself. So, you’d holed yourself up in your room on your floor of the compound, had a long, luxurious soak in the bath, and then decided to work out your anxiety and tension with one of your many, many friends.

And for the first time in a while, they just weren’t hitting that spot.

Literally.

You groaned, throwing the third toy - this one a rabbit that was one of your most trusty companions - on the side of your bed.

For the last forty minutes, you’d been dancing between three different toys and your fingers.

You’d tried being on your belly, your side, and your back. You’d even tried a pillow.

But nothing was the right pressure on your clit, no toy or finger felt deep enough inside, and you couldn’t hit that spot inside without getting a wicked cramp in your wrist that forced you to stop.

You sat up, every nerve in your body wound to a knife edge, leaving you frustrated and tempted to throttle someone.

Or get someone to throttle you.

Preferably whilst pinning you to a wall... or a desk.

Or anywhere really.

You just needed something, anything to get out this frustration and give you the release you’d been desperately chasing all night.

It wasn’t even a case of hovering on the edge - you couldn’t even get there. The fire and heat just stayed a kindling ember in your belly, and never reaching that explosive fire.

After getting up and downing a measure of whiskey whilst watching the rain, you decided to try a last-ditch attempt with a different toy.

This one was a curved vibrator, with a thicker rounder head for supposedly perfect pressure on your g-spot.

Simple, straight forward.

Surely, if none of the others had done it, this one finally would.

After settling back on your bed, you took a little more care this time, even going as far to light a few candles to add an ambiance to the room rather than have it pitch black with the sounds of the rain.

You worked yourself up this time, building it slowly, teasing yourself with brushes of your fingertips over your throat and breasts, setting your skin ablaze.

You pushed yourself to the edge a little, and then worked over with your vibrator.

Until ten minutes later, when you literally launched the vibrator across the room and it hit the wall with a resounding thud, that echoed your hiss of frustration. “Fucking hell.”

A shit week, a shit day, and you couldn’t even fuck yourself well enough to be able to wind down and get some sleep.

There was a sudden knock and then Bucky’s voice echoed through your bedroom door. “Darlin’?” There was a slight hint of his Brooklyn accent peeping through at the end, stirring something within you.

You startled, sitting bolt upright and your head snapped to the door, “Bucky?” You had the good sense to lock the door, but still. He was right there.

His shadow moved beneath the door, and you realised he was leaning against it, “Is everything alright? I heard banging.”

Well, no not really. I’ve been trying to get myself off for the last hour and nothing appears to be working and I’m sitting here naked whilst you’re the other side of my door calling me Darling in that ridiculously hot accent that shouldn’t even be that hot. But hey, apart from that, everything’s great.

You slid off the bed, padding across the room after dropping your toys back in their drawer, glaring at it as you passed. You slipped a robe on before making your way across the fluffy rug to the door, “Yeah, I’m okay...” You unlocked the door, tugging it open.

Bucky was leaning against the doorframe, all broad shoulders, long lines and soft smile.

His searing blue eyes were instantly locked onto you, a smirk playing on those gorgeous lips.

He cocked his head, standing there with his arms crossed, and you noticed that for once, he wasn’t wearing any gloves. Just a simple long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans that hung sinfully close to his hips and... no boots. Just socks.

Like he’d taken his shoes off before waking into your apartment.

Ever the gentleman.

His arm was bare, the soft light of the hall bouncing off of the black vibranium and sparking the gold. You’d always loved his arm. The sheer power of it, the way you’d seen it shatter a man’s ribs instantly and tear through a brick wall like it was made of glass. The same hand that tickled behind the ears of a stray kitten in Prospect Park and test the ripeness of plums at the market.

You wanted that hand around your throat.

Eyes the colour of the Arctic sea roamed over your body, from your slightly mussed up hair to the flush along your neck that disappeared in the dip of your dressing gown. “Mm... are you sure about that?” He tilted his coyly, a smirk playing on his lips and you had a feeling this expression had been one of the trademarks since the 40’s.

You narrowed your eyes at him, more than aware that he was seeing far more than you wanted him to, “I’m fine.” You turned from the door, leaving it open for him to come in, “How comes you’re up on my floor, anyway?” You peered over your shoulder at him as you padded across the room to the drinks cart.

Yes, there was a bar on your floor, but why couldn’t you have a cart in your room? Tony hadn’t even needed to ask when designing it.

Bucky walked in, his footfalls silent like a cat, that training never quite leaving him, “I couldn’t sleep. No nightmares, just restless.” He added the last part quickly, in response to the concern that tightened your expression.

It was nothing unusual, Bucky coming up here to your room.

You often found each other after nightmares or rough days, seeking comfort and distraction from the darkness that lingered.

Some days and nights, you went out, needing an outside diversion from the thoughts.

Other times, you stayed in, watching films, talking, training or just... sitting quietly, knowing that the other persons presence was enough protection and reassurance. Words weren’t needed… just company.

You handed him a drink, plopping down on the end of your bed and you watched him sink into the couch opposite, “Anything you wanna talk about?”

Since everything with the War, Bucky was working on fitting back into a routine, into ‘normal’ life - or what could be considered normal for people like yourselves.

He was undergoing his mandatory therapy sessions, and they seemed to be helping him.

He was back in contact with Sam, and the pair even worked a few jobs together now and then, even if they did bicker like an old married couple - it provided great entertainment when you tagged along.

He leant back on the couch, settling his left arm across the back. He always looked at home on your floor, relaxed, like his mind could shut off a little. “Nah, I’m okay... Thank you though.” He shot you an easy smile again, one that he probably hadn’t used in.... decades. “What about you? Why are you up so late?”

Mimicking his shrug, you kept your expression neutral, making sure your eyes didn’t drift to that certain drawer, “Rough week. I was reading to try and drift off.”

“Mmmhm...” Bucky’s hummed response told you instantly that he did not believe you one bit. “What were you reading? Cosmopolitan’s best guide to toys?” That shit eating grin graced his face and he motioned gracefully with his left hand... to the corner of the room.

The vibrator you’d launched was sitting on the floor, nestled in the rug, the soft mint green silicone practically a beacon.

Okay.

Okay…. So. There were two ways you could respond to this.

Either play it off, deny it and change the subject.

Or…

Turning back to him, you shrugged again, “Oh, I’ve read that back to front. And made a few additions myself.” You cocked your head, a faint flutter in your belly as you awaited his response.

The barest flicker of surprise danced across his beautiful, rugged features before dissolving into something confident and smouldering. “Well, it looks to me like their guide isn’t true to review tonight. Something tells me you’re having a little bit of trouble.” His voice had begun to lower into a deeper, the natural roughness of his voice coming out.

It stoked that fire within you, warming your blood and curling low in your belly.

“And if I was? What would you suggest to help?” It was almost impossible to remain sitting still as the atmosphere folded and changed. There was one obvious route to your back and forth… and you wanted it.

Wanted… him.

And if you were honest, you had for a long time now. There was just something about him that you’d always been drawn to, a simmering tension that settled whenever you were together.

Bucky rose from the sofa in a fluid movement, walking toward you slowly, casually, but with the grace and prowl of a wolf eyeing up its next meal – you.

And fuck, you wanted him to devour you.

He slid his hands into his pockets, feet silent on your wooden floor, “Well… I would say that as wonderful as your toys may be… they’re just that. Toys. They can’t… feel what you like.” His eyes burned through you with each of his steps. “They don’t hear the noises you make when they hit the right spot. They don’t get to see the way your body reacts, the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip because it feels overwhelmingly good.”

He was close enough for you to smell his cologne, and that only added to the growing wetness between your thighs as his filthy, beautiful words.

Bucky stopped in front of you, removing his left hand and touching his fingers to your chin to tilt it up to face him, “They can’t know the little things… the deeper angle, that extra finger or sweep of the tongue… they can’t make you so wet that it runs down your thighs and they can’t make you arch off the bed as you shatter into starlight…” He sighed softly, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “I’m afraid they just… can’t make you come the way a real person could.” He applied a little pressure to the underside of your chin, and you rose to your – unsteady - feet instantly, putty in his hands.

Holy fuck, Bucky Barnes had a mouth on him.

Your teeth had indeed sunk into your lower lip, and your breathing had grown shallow. It was an effort to keep your thighs firmly locked together… Because you were just as wet as he had said.

The dark flame in his eyes told you that he knew the reaction you were having to him. He brushed a cool thumb over your lip, then tugged it gently to free it from your teeth and at the same time, he leant his head down to your level, “They can’t make you come like I can, darlin’.” This close, his warm lips brushed the shell of your ear, his voice reduced to a husky rasp that only further drew out that Brooklyn accent.

The soft moan that left your lips was almost pitiful, but you didn’t care, “Shit.”

You breathed the word, earning a deep chuckle in your ear before Bucky pulled back, only enough to see your face, “You want me to help you? Give you a helping hand?” His words were low and seductive, but he was looking between your eyes, making no more moves until he knew you wanted this.

If you changed your mind, he would leave right now, and say no more about it.

That very thought pained you.

Something had always hovered between you both… and maybe now was the time to let it out. You shared a few kisses on nights out and he had featured heavily in your fantasies night after night, wishing your fingers were his, the toys were him….

You met his eyes, your own clear and sure and you kept that gaze as you parted your lips. Then swept your tongue along his thumb and tilted your head down just enough to take it between your lips. The vibranium was smooth, cold and it felt oddly delightful on your tongue. “Make me come, Bucky. Prove to me you’re better than the toys.” Your voice was low with need, a soft pleading note for him there as you gazed up through your eyelashes.

The Arctic blue of his eyes deepened to near midnight, his pupils blowing out as he watched you talk around his thumb, your tongue sweeping over the metal and he almost purred, “Oh, baby, you won’t need toys when I’m done.” And then he was on you.

He gently pulled his hand from your face, instead placing it lightly around your neck, the heavy metal settling on your collarbones and that alone drenched you.

He looked between your eyes, checking one final time and then his mouth was lowering onto yours, his lips warm, plush and ever so inviting. Instantly, he licked a teasing line along your lips, which you would have parted for him without the request.

Bucky’s tongue slipped past your lips, sweeping against yours in hot strokes as he explored every corner of your mouth.

He tasted divine, and even more so when his thumb lightly tipped your chin back and he traced the tip of his tongue along the roof of your mouth, licking over the ridges and showing you exactly what that tongue could do.

A groan left your lips, and you slid your hands up his arms to those shoulders, those gorgeous broad shoulders that all you wanted to do was dig your nails into them and use for support as you rode him.

A deep curl of delight and joy was unfurling within the heat in your belly, because you needed this, needed more of him and his hands and his tongue and his words… and you were finally getting it

Hell, he had only just started kissing you and you already could have fallen apart just from that.

“Why have we not been doing this all the time?” Was the only thought that your already fuzzy mind could come up with as he pulled away slowly from your lips, only to begin pressing hot, open kisses against your jaw that were all teeth and tongue. He seared a path to your neck, kissing all over until he found that particular spot that made you whimper and arch into his body.

Bucky laughed low against your neck, the sound vibrating, “Oh, baby, you were struggling, weren’t you? I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already a mess…” He used his hand on your throat to tilt your head to the side, before biting at your skin, sweeping his tongue over the hot and sucking a deep mark there.

A slight whine rippled in your throat, fingers pulling as his shirt and your chest pushed against his, the firm heat of him making your nipples tighten, especially when he pushed into you.

Bucky slipped a hand between your bodies, tugging at the cord of your dressing gown and it slipped from your shoulders, leaving you bare and open to him.

He licked down your neck, his tongue smoothing over the shape of your collarbones and then down your sternum to your breasts. He butterfly kissed the soft flesh, then almost delicately sucked at your rleft nipple, lifting his vibranium hand to squeeze the other, “So beautiful…” He mumbled it half to himself, his dark mussed up curls soft against your skin.

One of your hands trailed up the back of his neck, slightly tangling in the hair at the base of his head and you pushed your chest further into his mouth, “Tease.” The word was a soft gasp, your eyes closing in pleasure and your lips parting.

He chuckled, pulling back to blow a cool breath on the wet skin, watching your nipple harden and then he moved to give the other the same treatment, “Oh, I’m a tease, am I? I can stop if you like.” He grinned around the delicate skin, just slightly grazing his teeth as he tugged your nipple and then he continued his trail of kisses down your body, slowly sinking to his knees. “I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop though, darlin’.” His right hand grasped your ankle, and then he ghosted warm fingertips up your leg, past your knee and then pausing at your inner thigh, at what he felt there, “No. No I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop at all.”

The cocky bastard grinned once more against your stomach, before dipping his tongue inside your belly button.

“Bucky…” You couldn’t hide the whimper in your voice, nor the way your hips rocked forward in a plea. It was almost painful how much you needed him to touch you, needed to feel his lips and his tongue.

“Shhh, baby, I know.” His hands slipped up your waist, as soothing as his gentle coo against your belly button and then he brushed his lips lower and lower… and then finally, he pressed a soft butterfly kiss to your pubic bone.

A low groan tore from his throat, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he saw you, swollen and positively dripping for him, “Oh, darlin’, look at you…”

The sheer desire and awe in his low voice caused heat to flush along your cheekbones. You weren’t shy by any means, but the almost primal admiration in his voice was something you’d never heard before, the pure want and desire to make you feel good and worship you.

Bucky admired the sight before him for a single moment, before lifting his eyes to yours and then he dove in, immediately devouring you like he was starving. His deft tongue slipped through your slick folds with ease, and he moaned again at your taste, at your smell, everything.

He pressed his tongue flat against you before sucking at your clit, with such an intensity that you almost choked. It was a simple movement, but it shot electricity through your body and made every single nerve stand on end.

He let that coil of energy begin to build, and then he licked back down, his hands sliding down to palm at your ass cheeks before digging his fingers into your skin, pulling you in further so he could bury his nose against your clit and his tongue – fuck, his tongue pushed inside of you, hot and heavy. It just felt so, so good, his nose putting pressure on your bundle of nerves, his tongue pumping inside you.

Your hands flew down to his hair, winding through it to keep him there, keep him doing that, to keep him fucking you with his tongue, “Buck-”. You weren’t sure what you were begging him for, only that you just needed to say his name, needed to do something.

Your hips began to rock in time with his thrusts, and you became aware of it only when Bucky’s muffled moan reverberating through you.

He liked it, no... he loved this, that you were grinding against his face as his tongue worked inside you, tasting parts of you no one else had ever gotten right before.

“Fuck, Bucky, keep doing that – I’m-” You cut off with a high moan, your head tilting back as you rocked into him faster, chasing down that high that was so tantalisingly close. It hadn’t taken long, you were so worked up from your failed attempts that you were already there.

Bucky’s began to lick and suck you with new fervour, his head moving in time with the jerks of his hips, feeling the way your walls were tightening around his tongue. His fingers dug harder into your ass, and you felt the silent command almost, Come.

And you did.

You cried his name out to the sky, every nerve in your body winding to near painful tautness before you shattered on his face, your first orgasm ripping through you.

Bucky didn’t stop, working you through it and drawing it out further and further as he lapped up every single drop you gave him, moaning himself like it was the most tantalising thing he had ever tasted.

He stopped only when your grip released on his hair, the sensitivity of your nerves almost painful, your legs shaking like crazy and he lifted his hand from between your thighs, his lips and chin glistening. He rose from his knees, nudging you back onto the bed and instantly crawling up your body, “You have no idea how good you taste.”

You whimpered slightly, catching your breath as you watched him crawl up you, eyes burning like sapphire fire, his tongue licking slowly over his lips as he savoured you. Words were beyond you, desire still coursing through your veins and you were a little in awe at how quickly – and hard – he had brought you to your first orgasm.

Bucky grinned devilishly, “That won’t be your last.” He lowered his mouth back to yours and as you tasted yourself on him, you grew instantly wet for him again.

His body brushed into yours and you felt how painfully hard he was through his jeans, the sounds and taste of you getting to him of course.

Your fingers had barely brushed against his restrained length when he shook his head, nipping at your lower lip, “Oh no, baby, this is all about you.”

You ignored him, palming him through his jeans and he moaned lowly before his eyes flashed, his hand suddenly back on your throat and he moved his hips away so you couldn’t get to him. “I said no.” It was almost a snarl, “This is about you. Not me.” His hand tightened just slightly around your throat, making it that little bit harder to breathe and your eyes rolled back at how delicious it felt.

It was a huge kink for you, the idea of someone – of Bucky - taking control, being in control of your body even it was just for a little while. You didn’t need to think or do anything. Only feel and be at the mercy of his touch.

You relented, legs falling open for him and you tilted your head back, searching for his lips.

Bucky granted you the kiss, a slow, languid kiss at first that was all simmering passion and tangling tongues, the taste on you still lingering on his lips.

He palmed your breast again, tugging and squeezing the flesh until he scratched his nails lightly down your ribcage and belly.

Yes, yes-

He wasted no time, no more playing and his fingers slipped lower, circling over your clit with a delicious pressure that had you instantly moaning into his mouth.

He toyed with your clit a little more, before gathering your wetness and then sinking two fingers inside you, pushing all the way into his knuckles, then drawing back out slowly.

As he withdrew, you moaned long and slow into his mouth and he began a steady rhythm. Pushing and curling his fingers inside you a few steps, then circling and pulling at your clit, ever so subtly switching it up with each pass so you couldn’t predict what he would do.

It felt amazing, but… there was something still missing. It still wasn’t quite enough to send you over that final edge… it wasn’t what you’d been fantasising about.

No, it was his left hand. That dark, golden vibranium hand that was currently seated around your throat.

The knowledge of what it could do, the sheer power in it that could easily crush your windpipe or shatter your jaw with a single flick of his wrist.

That is what you needed.

Those cool, powerful fingers inside you, working you over – that was the best toy.

It was like he could read your mind somehow, or the way your body sung to his tune. He lifted his head, looking down at you with those searing blues and he cocked his head, a slow grin lighting his gorgeous face, “Oh… This-” he scissored his fingers inside you, stretching your walls and ever so slightly brushing up against that spot, “isn’t quite what you want, is it, darlin’?”

Holy Christ, he was going to destroy you before you even got what you wanted.

You looked up at him, panting, hips rocking to the slower thrust of his fingers and you shook your head.

Bucky swore softly, panting himself and he squeezed your throat once before lifting his fingers, “You want these, don’t you?”

Instead of answering him, you ducked your head, taking his three fingers into your mouth and immediately gliding your tongue around them, up and down in slow, dirty strokes.

The effect was instantaneous. Bucky’s hips jerked slightly against yours, his mouth parting as he watched you suck his vibranium fingers, hollowing your cheeks, eyes rolling back in your head like… like it was something else entirely.

He groaned, swore again and then almost ripped his fingers from your mouth and from between your legs at the same time.

Your entire body mourned the loss, feeling empty, clenching around nothing but mere seconds later, he plunged those three vibranium fingers inside of you, slick with your saliva and how unbelievably wet you were.

It stung a little, but only added to the feeling as your hips rose off the bed, “Shit, shit-”

They felt… like the best toy you could ever imagine. Smooth, cold, and hard enough that you could feel every faint ridge of the joints as he slid them in and out. You reached out, grabbing his arm with one hand and the bed with the other, needing something to hold onto as instinct took over. Your hips rode upwards, back arching as you rocked his fingers in deeper, feeling them in your spine almost. It was better than you could have imagined.

Bucky dropped his head to your chest, spreading his mouth over your breast and his other arm slid over your hips, pinning them to the bed so you were forced to take it. “You wanted this, baby… You take it.” He bit down on the soft flesh of your breast before smoothing his tongue over it again, working an alternative rhythm to his fingers and thumb again, so that your brain couldn’t keep up with which one to follow. It knew only the waves of fire singing through your veins.

Time may have very well dissolved, because you could only feel pleasure, tinged almost with pain.

The thick, hard stroking of fingers as they stretched and wrecked you.

The circling, hard-soft-hard pressure of his thumb on your clit.

The bite of his teeth on your breasts, neck and chest, followed by the wet press of his tongue.

The way he couldn’t help his hips slightly rocking against your leg.

This was almost like a fever dream, expect your brain couldn’t have come up with something this mind melting. Not even if you were really, really worked up.

The noises in the room were absolutely sinful. The unrestrained cries and moans from your lips, Bucky’s groans and his filthy words, the wet pump of his fingers inside you – it was obscene, filthy and completely, painfully mind-blowing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Bucky, please-” You had no idea what you were begging for, but every single nerve and muscle in your body was coiling tighter and tighter, your hips jerking against his arm as he pinned you down, forcing you to take this, to feel everything he was doing with no relenting. Tears were beginning to blur your eyes and the pleasure he unleashed upon you was almost painful.

Bucky somehow moved his fingers harder, deeper, the ability of the tech in his arm allowing him to do so, “Let go, baby, come on, let it go for me..” He dropped his head, biting down on your neck and he pressed his fingers against that spot inside you, flicking your clit with his thumb and then it all just snapped.

Waves and waves of hot fire flooded your body, dragging you up to the stars, further. It ripped the air from your lungs, made you half scream his name in a never-ending prayer.

It just didn’t stop.

Bucky kept moving inside you, drawing out every single second of your mind-shattering orgasm, letting go of your hips so you could grind them into his hand. “That’s it, baby… Look at you, so beautiful like that…” His praise spurred you on, making you feel almost like a goddess as you flooded his hand.

He stopped only when you slumped back onto the bed, sucking in deep breaths as you tried to piece yourself back together.

Better than toys indeed.

A little while later, you stirred from a light dose to see Bucky lounging on your couch again, cleaning the grooves and metal of his fingers with a soft cloth.

The sight of him concentrating, taking such care and detail with the clean-up, the cleanup from the mess you had made, had you instantly wet again. “Bucky.”

He looked up, hearing the low thrum to your voice and a smirk crossed his lips.

You had a favour to repay for his helping hand, after all.

#well #that happened #i am not sorry #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #arm kink

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bubbleteaimagines · 3 years

Text

Back To You

Oikawa Tooru Oneshot

Summary: You’ve moved on. You found someone new so why, why do you keep coming back to him?

Paring: Oikawa Tooru x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Cheating! I do not condone actual cheating but this is fanfiction not real life, Unprotected Sex with mentions of breeding but remember to wrap it kids!

You could feel his stare piercing you even from across the court. White hot, curious with a streak of jealousy.

Of course.

That’s to be expected when you show up to your old boyfriend’s match with your new boyfriend. You tried to ignore his stare as you helped Ragnar – your boyfriend – stretch before the game.

“Babe? Can you pull the other now?” He asks you, smiling sweetly, and it makes you sick that you have to give it all your might to concentrate on him, not the brunette standing just on the other side of the court.

“Of course,” You mentally scold yourself for even letting him cross your mind, pushing down the feeling of your hammering heart and complying with Ragnar. “That hard enough baby?”

“I bet I could give it to you harder,” He smiled suddenly, and you feel yourself become flustered as you realize what he meant.

“Shut up!” You scold him lightly, giggling a little while shaking your head. “You’re such a perv, you know that?”

“Oh come on,” Ragnar whines, his bottom lip jutting out a little in a pout. “You promised that if I won this game then we’d...you know...”

“That was only if you won,” You reminded him, emphasizing only. “Which won’t happen if the star player gets put out for pulling a muscle. So focus.”

“Right, right,” Ragnar finally complied and you ignored the whispers as people slowly began to talk.

“Hey...isn’t that Oikawa’s ex girlfriend?” Someone whispered, causing you to tense up.

“Yeah, I wonder what she’s doing here.”

“Do you think she came to see him?”

“Nah, it looks like she moved on. With a player from the opposing team, no less!”

“Come on,” You gently tugged on Ragnar’s arm as your heart hammered in your chest. “Let’s go set you up, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ragnar agreed and you tightly gripped his hand as he lead you deeper into his team’s territory. A few people that would be playing greeted you, but you hardly acknowledged them as you sat down on the bench and then heard him talking.

“Big crowd isn’t it?” Oikawa said nonchalantly, but you could hear something lingering in his voice.

“Yeah. Best not get too caught up in it,” You heard someone else respond. Iwaizumi, of course. He had been one of your closest friends when you and Oikawa were still dating, but after you broke up the two of you slowly drifted away.

You felt bad for cutting him off but you knew that he was Oikawa’s friend first and it’d be too awkward trying to share him.

You needed a clean break from Oikawa, so why, why were you straining so hard to hear him talk?

“Let’s go say hello to some of our opponents,” You then heard Oikawa suggest, causing you to freeze. Ragnar had long since walked away, so you were the only one that noticed the seemingly thunderous footsteps of the last two people you wanted to see.

You knew he was coming, you could feel his stare and desperately tried to move. You willed your body to pick itself up, but somehow you remained seated as suddenly his presence washed over you.

“Well, well,” You flinched at his voice, too close for comfort but still as beautiful and smooth as ever. You could tell he was smirking. “You guys seem pretty good from where we’re standing, I can tell this is gonna be a tough game.”

He was lying. You knew Oikawa and you knew that he’d wipe the floor with Ragnar’s team. This was Seijoh after all- they were the favorites for nationals.

“Uh, thanks?” Seeing as your boyfriend was team captain, he was the one that replied. You kept your eyes glued to him, and him only as you watched the interaction.

“No problem,” Oikawa smirked. “You know I’d even go so far to say I’m nervous,” He said, and you wanted to scream from how he was taunting your boyfriend. But you feared it’d be worse if you got involved.

“Well, we’re not called Tigers for no reason,” Ragnar chuckled. His gaze flashed to you and immediately you could see Oikawa scowling.

“Our playing styles seem to be a lot different,” Oikawa started, “So I wish you luck. But I think you’ll find that you and me- we’re not so different after all.”

For the first time since you had broken up with him, you and Oikawa made eye contact. He winked at you as your (E/C) eyes went wide, your mouth going dry. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

The way he purred your name should have been illegal. And you kicked yourself as your heart began to flutter, butterflies forming in your stomach.

Dammit! You tore your eyes away and looked anywhere but him.

God, you fucking hated him.

How did he manage to have this effect on you, months after you had seen each other? How he did still make you nervous? How did he still make your thighs clench together by saying your name just right, just like he used to do while he had you underneath him and whimpering from his touch?

You sucked in a breath and shook away the tears that threatened to surface. You felt so disgusting, sitting there with your body gravitating towards him and that bastard knew it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ragnar frowned, suddenly becoming defensive as he noticed Oikawa looking straight at you. The brunette chuckled.

“Oh nothing,” He sighed like he hadn’t just called out his girlfriend directly. “Well, we better get going. The game should be starting soon. See you around.”

You averted your gaze as you fixated on Oikawa’s and Iwaizumi’s shoes. Their presence was so off-putting that you flinched again when Oikawa called out your name.

“Oh, and Y/N/N,” You hated the power he still had over you. Because as soon as he addressed you by that name, you looked up.

He smirked. “I’ll be seeing you soon,” He promised, something that he had been retreating over the many texts and DM’s he had sent you.

You gulped.

“Come on, leave her alone,” Iwaizumi gently tugged on Oikawa’s sleeve, dragging him away sending you a look of apology. You nodded in acceptance and then let out a breath when they were finally gone.

“Do you know him?” Ragnar immediately asked, watching Oikawa’s back with hard eyes.

You sighed. “Nope. I’ve never...I’ve never seen him in my life. I was just friends with the guy he was with.”

“Humph,” Ragnar hummed as soon as your phone pinged. Picking it up, you became frozen in shock at the message.

You looked beautiful today, my love. Too bad you were on his arm and not mine.

“Is everything alright?” Ragnar asked carefully, looking at your dejected face. “He didn’t spook you out or anything, did he?”

“N-No, It’s fine,” You stutter, quickly hiding your phone. “I’m fine. Don’t let it get to you- he’s probably just using me to get to you.”

If only he knew. It was much, much more than that.

Oikawa waited for Ragnar to leave and then he smirked when your gaze automatically flickered to his, like he knew it would. Winking, you almost lost it when his lips began to move and he mouthed ‘I love you,’ just when the whistle blew.

–

“YES!”

You grinned in happiness as your boyfriend and his teammates jumped around in victory, having beat Seijou by just a point.

You had to admit, you were on edge the entire game. Regretfully you had spent a good amount of time looking back and forth between your boyfriend and your ex, watching them battle it out.

Ragnar had been amazing out there but Oikawa...Oikawa had been absolutely phenomenal.

It was obvious he had improved in the time you were apart. His spike were still deadly and they were powerful enough to score 15 points. Halfway through the game, you had been sure Seijou would win the game.

But when it really mattered, little mistakes is what got them. So that’s why you were currently celebrating with your team, but didn’t really feel like a win.

Not for you.

“Y/N!” Ragnar snapped you out of your thoughts by pulling you into a sudden kiss, causing you to squeak. “We did it baby- I told you!”

“Yeah!” You were grateful he was too excited to hear your halfhearted reply, and too distracted to see your tight smile. “Congrats, baby. I knew you could do it.”

No you didn’t. Guilt pooled in your stomach as you remembered ranking Oikawa over your own boyfriend. You stomach twisted- how could you do that? How could you sit there that entire game waiting for Ragnar to fail if only you got to see Oikawa win?

You felt sick with yourself.

“Come on,” Ragnar gently tugged on your arm and smiled shyly. “Let’s all get back to the bus, yeah? I believe you have a promise to fufill,” He whispered that last part lowly, causing you to shiver and widen your eyes.

“Right,” You smiled tightly, pretending like your heart wasn’t about to pound out of your chest. “Let me just...let me check to see if we got everything. I’ll do a final sweep and meet you there.”

“Okay,” Ragnar grinned and leaned down to press a kiss on your cheek. Then, with all thirteen of his teammates he exited the building leaving you standing there, hollow.

“What are you doing?” You asked yourself, watching them walk away. “Why am I staying?”

It felt wrong to leave just now. It felt like you had something else to do. Someone else to see.

“Dammit,” You cursed as your feet began to go in the opposite direction, jogging lightly and prayed that they were still there.

It was just your luck that Seijou was on the opposite side of the building, and all of the buses were still there which meant there was a possibility he wouldn’t even be inside.

“Shit!”

You couldn’t believe you were being this stupid. Why were you running towards him, hoping to catch him before he left? Why did you care? Why had you never stopped caring?

“Y/N?” Iwaizumi’s surprised voice was difficult to hear over your heavy breathing, but you managed, raising your head to meet his eyes.

“Iwa-Chan,” You used his old nickname, setting yourself up straight. “I-”

“Why are you here?” He hadn’t meant it to sound rude, he was surprised that’s all. Hell, you were surprised yourself.

“I...” Why were you here?

Your eyes scanned the surroundings behind Iwaizumi. Fourteen players, but there were sixteen on the team. He followed your gaze, and his eyes softened when he noticed you looking.

“In the locker room,” He suddenly said, snapping your attention back to him.

You frowned. “W-What?”

“He’s in the locker room,” Iwaizumi repeated, knowing that’s who you were looking for. You felt your chest tighten.

“I-I wasn’t...”

“Bus leaves in 30 minutes. Don’t make him late, please,” Iwaizumi told you like it was nothing. You suddenly felt embarrassed. He had read you like an open book.

“T-Thank you,” You nodded in appreciation before turning in that direction. “Thank you, Iwaizumi. I-It was good to see you.”

He studied you for moment. It looked like he was about to say something, but then he just shook his head.

“You too, Y/N-Chan. Thank you for this,” Iwaizumi said. “He...he needs you right now.”

You felt like all the air disappeared from your lungs. Your heart pounded uncomfortably, while a tiny voice in your head told you ‘No. Don’t do this.’

“Okay,” You ignored the voice and got moving. Your feet walking in a direction you shouldn’t have been going. Your heart leading the way while your brain screamed profanities.

When you got to the locker room, you could already hear him pacing around. He was cursing, mumbling to himself about things you couldn’t hear until you got closer.

“O-Oikawa?” Your voice was hesitant, but you forced yourself to say something.

Immediately, his brown eyes snapped to you. Surprise- just like Iwaizumi- filled them, but no sooner than it appeared, it was gone.

“Y-Y/N-Chan?” He stuttered your name like he had never uttered it before. It made you even more nervous, but nevertheless your body pulled you in closer. “W-What are you doing here?”

“I-I came to see you,” You forced out, tearing your eyes away. It was too much. His gaze was too intense.

Oikawa scoffed. “After that? Shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend, celebrating?”

You didn’t like the way he said ‘your boyfriend.’ It felt wrong, coming from his lips. Like words that shouldn’t exist. You gulped.

“He’s on the bus,” You explained, still keeping your head down. “He...They’re waiting for me.”

“And what-” You could see his shoes getting closer, “Don’t tell me you came back for me,” He said in disbelief.

You sighed. “I wanted to see if you were okay,” You finally got the courage to look up and meet his eyes, and when you did you nearly melted.

Nothing had changed. He could still captivate you with one look- that damn look he was giving you now.

“Oh,” He sounded genuinely confused.

“Y-Yeah,” You stuttered slightly. “It’s just...I know how much you hate losing,” You mumbled quietly, embarrassed. “Especially if it’s to...”

“If it’s to him?” Oikawa finished, and you nodded, too embarrassed to say anything. “Well, you wouldn’t be wrong.”

You guys were so close now that you could begin to feel his body heat. Oikawa was always so warm, it was one of the things you love about him.

Wait a minute. Love?

“Hey,” He was bold and reached over to take your hand, causing electricity to flow through both of you. “Look at me.”

Even though it was softly spoken, you knew that it was a command. And, unable to resist him, you did.

You looked deep into his eyes and you could see every ounce of love he had for you. You could see the lust, the longing, but also the pain that still lingered months after you had parted ways.

“Tell me something,” Oikawa spoke again, letting out a breath. “Do you still love me?”

The question caught you off guard. You weren’t expecting him to jump right in, to dive head first after only just seeing you again.

But for Tooru- you knew he needed to know. You knew that your words would determine would what happen next, if the tension between you two would boil over or if it would simmer to a stop.

“I never stopped,” You confessed honestly, clenching your fists. “Everyday- everyday I’m not with you is like hell for me. I keep thinking back to it, that day you left. And I-”

Tears began to well in your eyes at the memory. All the screaming, the crying and the petty insults you had thrown at one another all seemed so...irrelevant now. Oikawa was staring at you with pure love, love that had never stopped for you. And now...now you began to wonder why either of you ever walked away.

“I’m sorry,” His fingers brushed the side of your face and you relished in his touch, immediately melting into him. “I’m sorry for everything- for what I said to you. For walking away...” Oikawa trailed off for a moment and then he resumed, his eyes squeezing shut. “...For letting someone else take you before I had the chance...before I could...”

“Hey,” Now it was his turn to melt into your touch. Oikawa leaned into you as you cupped his cheek, sighing almost painfully. He had waited too long to feel your touch again. “It’s okay. We both said a lot of things that day. I’m sorry too.”

“I still love you, you know,” Oikawa blurted out. He sounded embarrassed, but little did he know how much they effected you.

It was wrong, you knew that. To be holding your ex, comforting him while your boyfriend was waiting on you. It was wrong but...god it felt so right.

“I know,” You murmured quietly, pressing yourself into him. You could feel the hard outline of his muscles, a feeling that was familiar to you. Your body immediately flushed, subconsciously yearning for more.

“I broke your heart into two,” He said regretfully, his face contorting into pain.

“I know,” But still, you pressed your forehead to his. “But when it healed...it was still beating for you,” You confessed, Oikawa’s arm gently wrapping around your waist to pull you close.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you,” He said breathlessly, and then before you could react his lips were on yours.

It was like...taking a deep breath after being underwater for so long. So refreshing, so vital to keep living that you had no choice but to surrender to it.

You were quick to lean into him, kissing back with as much passion and feriocity as you could. In that short amount of time, somehow your hands found his hair and Oikawa’s fingers began to find their way up your shirt.

“Can I...” He pulled away to tug on your shirt, looking at with you with absolute need.

“Yes,” You couldn’t get the word out fast enough, excitement running through your veins as Oikawa all but ripped it off. “God, yes.”

“So beautiful,” He muttered slightly, smiling when he saw you were wearing his favorite bra. “It’s like you were expecting this,” He said, but you only responded by leaning to kiss him again.

You couldn’t get enough, it had been so long, too long since his mouth had been on yours. Your body had been craving him for such a long time and now that you had him, you were eager to be as close as you could.

“Your turn,” You told him, pulling away to now tug on his shirt. “Off.”

“Yes ma’am,” Oikawa smirked at your request and immediately took it off, throwing it in some random corner. “Is this good?”

“Perfect,” You murmured lovingly, running your hands over his beautiful body.

Oikawa shivered underneath your touch, anticipation racing through his as you traced his abs.

“It’s been too long,” He said, you nodding in agreement. “It’s not enough, I need to-”

“I know,” You already knew what he wanted and you were eager to comply, stepping away to wiggle out of your jeans. Then, you snapped the bralette off which left you standing in only your cute pale panties.

“Mine,” Your back was against the lockers before you could even blink, a possessive glint in Oikawa’s eyes as he eyed your almost naked body.

“It’s always been yours,” You reminded him, before pulling him down in another kiss. This was one was messier, your desire for one another evident as your tongues danced with each other. Oikawa was pressing so hard against you that you could feel his hard on through his shorts, smirking when he moaned as you grinded against him.

“I need those off,” You ordered, your core beginning to trob at the anticipation. Oikawa was the same, wanting nothing more than to finally be inside of you again. He pulled down his shorts like it was nothing, and then he yanked at your panties, feeling them to be soaked.

“Someone’s excited,” He chuckled, and you moaned as he stoked over your clothed pussy.

“Off,” You whimpered, not being able to stand it anymore. It was unbearable- he was right there, so why wasn’t he buried inside of you?

“Yes ma’am,” Once again, he gave you what you wanted and then shed his boxers, his erection springing free. Your mouth watered at the sight of his pretty cock, standing all hard because of you.

“I’ve missed this,” You admitted as Oikawa pulled your panties down. “I need-”

“I got you,” He promised, finally sliding off the material and then pressing you against the lockers once more. He bent down to hook his arms underneath your thighs, automatically bringing your pussy to hover right over his tip.

He was beyond eager, something you’d never seen in Oikawa before. Usually, he could tease you for hours but this time was different.

“Do you want me to...you want me to prep you first?” He offered like a true gentleman, but you could tell it was killing him to not be inside of you already.

“N-No,” You declined as his cock rubbed over your wet folds. “Not today- next time-”

“Next time,” Oikawa promised, before capturing you into a kiss and slowly sinking himself in.

The stretch was beautiful, you couldn’t help but whimper as your pussy finally became full after months. And from Oikawa no less, it felt like a perfect fit as he gripped you tightly and buried himself to the hilt.

“Fuck,” His eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head at the sensation, your pussy sucking him in. There was something so gratifying, so beautiful about being inside of you again and being able to feel all of you.

It didn’t matter if you were still taking birth control or not. Oikawa was determined to cum inside of you, he was determined to fill you to the brink.

“Move,” You whimpered in his arms, the feeling of his cock pushing past your tight ring of muscles painful, but also reliving. This is what you wanted, you wanted this feeling of him. And you wanted him faster.

“O-Okay,” Oikawa gave you what you wanted and bucked his hips into you, moaning at how tight you felt. You always squeezed him just right, but it seemed like today your walls were determined to milk him dry. Not that he minded of course, but he had to squeeze his eyes shut and focus so that he wouldn’t fill you up right then and there.

“T-Tooru...” Your broken moans only encouraged him to go faster, lockers behind you shaking as he pounded you good. Thank god he was strong- he had no trouble holding you up as he drilled into you over and over again.

“God you’re so fucking tight,” Oikawa moaned and nuzzled himself into your neck, sucking on your sweet spot.

You knew he was going to mark you up, stake his claim to any man that came near you. That included Ragnar but you no longer cared, the feeling of him abusing your cervix washing out anything else.

“Oh god,” You gasped, snapping your eyes open as Oikawa angled his hips to hit just the right spot. That spot that made you go absolutely wild, crying out his name like a prayer as you held on for dear life.

“Oikawa!”

“That’s right baby,” He pulled away from your neck and grunted, looking straight into your eyes as he abused it over and over again. “Let them know who you’ve always belonged to- let them know that I’m the first and only man that’s ever touched this little pussy!”

“I-” You threw your head back as stars began to cloud your vision, “Y-You’re the only one, baby. It’s always you. It’ll always be you,” You cried out, a tear slipping down your face from sheer pleasure.

“I know,” Oikawa kissed your cheeks and then you could feel his thrusts getting sloppy- he was close.

As both of your orgasms came close he made sure to take one hand from under your thighs and then used his fingers to rub your clit. Once again, you marveled this mans strength because he managed to hold you up with one hand while simultaneously pleasuring you at the same time.

“B-Baby...” You could feel the knot in your stomach about to unravel, and you held onto Oikawa as euphoria washed over you. “I-I’m gonna-”

“Let it go, sweetheart,” Oikawa moaned as his own movement stiffened, and then you feel his warm cum paint your walls.

With one last cry, you clenched around him and let it go, yelling out his name so loud there was no way somebody couldn’t hear you, and Oikawa secretly wished it was Ragnar.

A feeling of smugness mixed in with the pleasure as he emptyed himself inside of you, knowing that nobody else had ever had you like this before.

You were full of him, of his cum, and his cock was the only that’s ever had the pleasure to breed you.

He filled your womb like it was nothing and once you both came down, you were a shaking and crying mess against him.

“I love you, Oikawa Tooru,” You mumbled against his lips as he kissed you messily.

“I love you too, Y/N L/N,” He said honestly, giving one last trust before pulling out of you.

Oikawa let go of your legs but he was there to quickly hold your trembling body, your legs unstable. You looked up at him with eyes filled with pure love and admiration and god, Oikawa thinks you’ve never looked prettier with tear stains on your cheeks and with your pussy leaking with his cum.

“Does this mean-” Ever the bold one, he dared to ask, “Does this mean you’re coming home with me?”

“Y-Yes,” You stuttered out slightly, your chest tightening at the prospect of leaving Ragnar but not because you loved him, but because you felt guilty. “What am I gonna...what am I gonna say?” You wondered, but Oikawa already had that planned.

“Leave that to me,” He promised, bending down to pick up your phone. You watched him hesitantly as he unlocked it, smirking when he realized you didn’t even have his picture on your home screen.

“What are you doing?” You asked slightly panicked as he opened up Snapchat.

“This,” You gasped as Oikawa was suddenly inside of you again, your pussy struggling to take him after what just happened. You didn’t even have to think as you held onto his biceps tightly, Oikawa beginning to thrust again.

“Think twice before you take something that’s mine,” You heard him growl, and then he was sliding out, sending the video straight to Ragnar.

“Did you just-”

“He needed to know his place,” Oikawa said casually, scooping you into his arms again. “He may have beat me today, but he lost the most incredible girl he could have ever had.”

“Did you seriously just do that?” You were still floored, struggling to wrap your brain around it. I mean you knew Oikawa was petty but this-?

“Did you expect anything else, my dove?” He chuckled.

You sighed. “Honestly...no. No I didn’t,” You found yourself grinning at him just as your phone pinged, blowing up with texts and snaps from Ragnar.

“Well, I guess that’s our cue,” Oikawa laughed, opening a snap and sending back a selfie. “Come on- you can delete all of his stuff on the bus.”

“You’re...you’re unbelievable,” You told him with wide-eyes, your phone pinging again.

“I know,” Oikawa smiles, “But I have you back either way.”

#oikawa imagine #oikawa tooru x reader #tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa smut #tooru oikawa #oikawa tōru #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa torū #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tooru smut #tooru oikawa smut #haikyuu smut #spicytea.txt

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

Text

All flavours of wrong (part 1)

Masterlist Part 2

Pairing: Loki x Reader (gender neutral) (reader gets called princess and Queen mockingly, but it can have no gender connotations, just as in a joke).

Summary: You got an arranged marriage with the firstborn prince of Asgard, inheritor of the crown, God of Thunder. But your heart has other plans, that your brain cannot yet comprehend. And on Loki’s side it’s not getting easy either.

Word count: 4.5K

Warnings: Sexual tension (a lot). And honestly not much more? Mentions of blood.

I used prompt #293 and prompt #279 from @creativepromptsforwriting to take me out of a block, so thank you so much to this page, it’s incredibly useful! I recommend all writers to check it out.

“Thor”, whispered Loki. But since his four failed attempts at calling him discreetly went wrong, he stepped on his foot under the table, making him spill wine all over his trousers.

“For Gods’ sake, brother, what do you want?”.

“Well, finally. Are you ignoring me? I’ve been trying to get your attention all dinner”.

“Yes, of course I’ve been ignoring you”, said as if it were obvious. It wasn’t.

“Why?”, Loki asked, trying to not sound hurt.

“You know why”, muttered under his breath, faking a smile when his gaze met his mother’s. “And shut up, we’re not supposed to talk if Allfather is not here yet”.

“Look, if it’s because I set on fire your History books, get over it, it’s not like you were doing great with that anyways”.

“You… you did what? It was you?”.

“Yes, of course. Oh, you didn’t know. Well, what are you ignoring me for, then? Ah, I know. Is it because I broke the…”.

“How many things of mine have you been destroying lately?”, Thor raised his voice slightly.

“Boys, enough”, interrupted Frigga. “Cut it off, your Father will be here soon”.

The siblings went back to their plates, and Loki kept stealing glances at his brother, trying to figure out what was wrong. Thor was nervous; his leg kept bouncing and bouncing, he barely touched his food (which was very suggestive, given that he usually ate it all in two mouthfuls), and he was refilling his cup with the strongest wine of the table, as if he needed to loosen up for something. Loki decided it was better off to just pay attention to what would come next. It was evident his Father would be bringing the thing that made Thor so nervous.

And then it hit him; it was already June.

The previous year Odin announced the possibility of an arranged marriage to whoever was winning on the competition for the throne, if he hadn't gotten anywhere near a possible royal companion. Thor was winning, by far; of course. And he didn’t show any partner, or even the possibility of a future partner, so no wonder why he was so nervous.

Loki went back to his plate, not sure how to feel. Annoyed, that was for sure. He knew he wasn’t going to be King (at least not until his brother died, if he didn’t die first), but the preparations for his inheritance got there faster than he expected. It was all too quick. And the disappointment grew bigger the more he thought of it. His father was not even giving him the chance to get better in the competition, and instead he just assumed it was Thor who’d win. Frustrating. Obvious, but still frustrating.

The doors opened and a young and bright warrior followed the footsteps of Odin. He, with a smile from ear to ear, waited until getting the attention of everyone, and, directly looking into Thor’s eyes, introduced you with your full name and current social status. Loki couldn’t stop staring with his lips slightly parted.

That was it. That was what annoyed him the most. His brother got to marry that.

He just couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked fast to see if there was something deceiving his perception, if maybe his whole family arranged a joke to him, if maybe that little warrior was an illusion casted by his Mother to laugh at how unfortunate he must have been looking at that moment. At the moment he realized his brother was marrying the perfect partner for Loki. You were, at least in the physical sense, his literal type. He was baffled.

And that didn’t go unnoticed by Thor either, who stole a glance from him and chuckled mockingly. Loki went red of embarrassment and tried his best to hide from you, to avoid your gaze, but he just couldn’t keep his eyes off you. He felt hypnotized, and bothered. You didn’t look at him. You looked everywhere but him. You were amazed by the palace, by everyone around you. It was obvious you were not familiar with a royal life.

“You seem bewildered, brother”, Thor whispered in his ear.

“And you don’t seem as astonished as you should, brother”, he answered with levels of sarcasm in his tone he didn’t even know he had.

“I shouldn’t, this is merely formal”.

“You’re marrying them. It’s not entirely formal. It’s a whole future and family”, Loki discussed, but he knew his brother didn’t care about it enough. His brother didn’t even want the throne that badly, yet he was the one getting it. More and more frustration flowed through Loki’s veins. He kept staring at you with a frown. “Besides, look at that piece of art”.

He looked so tough, so serious, until you stared back. No, you didn’t even stare. You looked up and found his eyes. He quickly softened his expressions as you gifted him a gentle smile. His heart skipped a beat.

And just with a smile he knew, he was completely fucked.

Loki closed his eyes and shut his fists as hard as he could, trying to focus and concentrate only on what he was supposed to. The spell.

But you were looking, and it was hard.

A week passed by, and you were already living in the palace, bonding with your future husband and trying to learn as much as possible from the new life you would acquire once the wedding passed. You met him everywhere; in the halls, on the meals, on the trainings, on the classes; everywhere. He had no means to escape you. Nor did he want to. But he couldn’t get used to that horrible and sweet feeling of his chest getting tighter, face warmer and balance unsteadier when he saw you.

“You’ve got this, Loki. We’ve been over this”, Frigga said from the other side of the training room. “Just remember what we practiced yesterday”. But the only thing Loki remembered from yesterday was when he was trying to train that same spell and you were, at the same time, practicing your archery skills outside. Sweaty. Tired. Ecstatic. Smiley. Red.

He opened his eyes and dropped his arms, completely giving up. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do even a simple spell in front of you.

“What is it that’s distracting you so much, son? You have your head too full for this”, Frigga commented, getting closer to him.

“I’m simply tired, Mother. Don’t worry about it, had a poor night of sleep”.

“Well, get it together for this afternoon. We’re trying again after you get some rest, alright?”.

“Yes, Mother”.

You weren’t paying much attention to the conversation prince Loki and the Queen had. You were way too focused on how uncomfortable the clothes you had to wear were in you. You could barely breathe, and had to fix your posture to avoid choking. Besides, you could feel prince Thor’s eyes on you, and somehow it made you extremely uncomfortable.

You knew you would marry him. Then why couldn’t you at least fake a little bit of interest in him?

You redirected your attention to prince Loki, once again, and the corset was not the only thing that made your breathing harder. Gods, and for the Nine Realms, the prince’s training clothes were something else. Not even compared to Thor’s tank top and weird-looking shorts; Loki’s were almost made exactly for him and his silhouette. Black leather pants and top covering him almost entirely, tight even where it shouldn’t be that tight. Gold endings everywhere and little patterns in his long sleeves and trousers; details that only made it harder for you to not look. But you didn’t even know where to look, if you looked.

Well, you knew exactly where you should’ve been looking. To your side. The blonde and huge man with the big hammer that promised you a crown, a throne and a good place for your family to live in.

You shook your head, and got up to make yourself some tea, hoping the wrong thoughts would fall off your brain and you’d finally come to your senses.

Once you made it to the kitchen, you realized you shouldn’t have gotten there by your own. Unable to get used to the fact that if you wanted some tea you should ask for the maids to make it for you (as with everything, even the clothes you would wear, the foods you’d eat, the way the bed should be made, and an infinite etcetera), you ignored it and put the kettle on the fire.

You tried to reach for the tea box on the countertop, and stood on your toes, failing to even touch it with the tips of your fingers. As you turned around to look for a chair to climb to, you blundered against the God of Mischief’s chest.

“Oh, dear, I’m so sorry”, he apologized, taking a step back. “I was about to get the tea box for you”. You felt yourself completely red.

“It’s… it’s fine, thank you. I’m sorry” you stuttered nervously, with the echoing feeling of his torso against your arms and chest, making you blush even more. You wondered if he did that accidentally.

He smirked slightly and reached for the box effortlessly, making deep eye contact. Was he… was he flirting, somehow? you asked yourself. No, of course he wasn’t. That would be a hundred percent inappropriate, and he was completely appropriate and polite all the time. Even when he shouldn’t have. So, what was that about? Did he usually look at people like that?

“Breaking some rules, I see?”, he added after a painful minute of silence in where you chose the tea and mug. You turned around and realized he was still staring.

“What?”.

“You shouldn’t be the one making the tea, you know”.

“Yes, I know”, you answered calmly, trying to not show the tremble in your voice. Just the presence of that God in the same room made you feel… tiny. Weak. Maybe in a good way. No, definitely in a bad way; he shouldn’t be making you feel anything, for that matter. “And we shouldn’t be in the same room all alone”.

“Are you kicking me out?”.

“Just stating a fact”.

“Hm”.

“And offering you some illegal tea”.

He smiled. You were way too good for Thor, he thought. You would be bored if you married him. You had the trouble spark in your eyes and Loki was the perfect companion for that. It was so evident you were made for each other; then why would his parents think you would be better off with Thor? He was still clueless at how they could’ve made such an imprudent and blind decision.

“I’d love to, princess”.

You chuckled. “Princess? Really?”.

“Not good?”.

“No”. He lowered his gaze and put a strand of hair behind an ear. “Which kind would you like?”.

He stepped closer to you; so much closer that you could feel his slow breathing grazing your forehead. You tried your best to not rise your head and sink in his sharp features. He grabbed with two fingers a tea bag from the box you were holding. Your hands were trembling slightly. He then got a little bit closer (even though you didn’t think that was possible), slowly stretched his arm and picked up a mug that was conveniently behind you. As soon as he stepped away, you realized you held your breath the whole time.

“Are you alright? You look nervous”, he mocked, which only made you even more embarrassed.

“I suggest you stay in your place, prince Loki”, you said, trying to get back to reality. It was not okay. You could not flirt in any way or form with your future husband’s brother. Wrong. Wrong! All flavours of wrong.

“Suggestion denied”, he said with the same troublesome smirk from before, that still hadn’t wiped off his face. “And you can call me Loki”.

“I will not”, you said, filling his mug with the boiling water. “And you’ll call me by my full name, as you should”.

“You know, in our actual position… you should be the one recieving my orders”, he said, lowering his already deep voice. You swallowed, but tried to keep a determined and confident look on your face.

“Which are...?”. You knew you’d regret even asking, but he was right. He still was your prince, and you still were a mere warrior. He raised an eyebrow.

“Call me Loki”.

“Or?”.

“Well…”, he whispered raspily. You felt he was about to step closer to you again, but the voice of one of his tutors interrupted his flirting.

“What on the Realm are you two doing in here without an escort?”.

“Terribly sorry”, you muttered while you rapidly left the kitchen. Loki stood there, observing you leave and sighed. His tutor looked at him with disapproval and he simply shrugged his shoulders and smiled innocently.

But he had already decided, you were going to be his.

You couldn’t help but to wander the palace as much as you could. The place was enormous and nothing compared to anything you’ve seen before. You only knew the tiny houses you grew up in Asgard, and the occasional visit to other Realm’s palace in the middle of a battle.

But you had to be careful. Nobody would approve you nosing everywhere, much less at those hours of the night. But, well, it was the perfect time, because the palace would not only be empty, but also illuminated by only the soft glimmering of the candlelights. It was gorgeous.

You roamed around through the hallways, until the sharp sound of a fall stopped you dead on your tracks. The sound was followed by an “ugh, fuck” from a particularly familiar voice, and your curiosity grew bigger. What was prince Loki doing at those hours in… the library, was it? You thought, as you tried to read the sign in the doorframe. All signs had to be in old Norse, of course. And you could barely speak it, let alone read it in the dark.

Peeping from the entrance, you got to see what the prince was doing. With a big and dusty book on one hand and a frown in his face, he was trying to make a pile of books from the floor levitate.

He shut his eyes close and once again, pointed at the books with the palm of his hand. A green light surrounded the objects and two of the three books got suspended in the air. With effort, prince Loki pushed harder upwards to make the third book levitate too, but soon got tired and the rest of the pile fell to the wooden floor again, making the same sound that brought you there in the first place.

He then left the open book he was holding over one of the tables and tried again, this time with both of his hands. In around five minutes he got to make the three books fly above his head, as if they were dancing. His eyes glittered and an ear-to-ear smile lit his face. You’ve never seen him smile so innocently, so childishly before.

How adorable, you thought, as you leaned on the doorframe. But the smile on his face got interrupted when you sloped wrongly over the door and fell down with a sound that felt more like a scream than a subtle gasp.

Loki ran to see where that sound came from, and found your flustered face on his feet, trying your best to not look too embarrassed by the fact that you were hovering, or even spying on him.

“May I help you with something, princess?”, he held your hand to help you up, but didn’t let it out when you were already on your feet.

“Thank you. And, please, don’t call me princess”, you said, freeing yourself of his hand.

“‘Please, don’t call me princess’? Darling, you’re begging for the wrong things in here”. You got chills from the seductive tone of his voice, and tried to ignore it through a laugh. There was nothing else to do but to hope he wouldn’t notice how blushed you’d gotten.

“It’s not appropriate that you keep flirting with me, Mischief”.

“I like that nickname”.

“Did you even listen to me?”.

“Yes, I know. You don’t want me to flirt with you because you’re afraid of being inappropriate. But, between us, which one was the one stalking the other one in the middle of the night?”.

“I wasn’t stalking. I was simply observing and hoping you wouldn’t notice”.

“That’s the dictionary definition of stalking, my dear”.

You sighed. There was no point in arguing with him. He would know if you lied; and that’s probably why he kept flirting. Because he knew you didn’t mean it when you corrected him. You liked it. You truly enjoyed it.

“What are you doing?”, you asked after a while, pointing at the floating books that were now almost touching the roof.

“I really need to focus for this one in particular. If I need silence and emptiness, this place and time are usually a good idea. Unless, of course, there’s a little spy falling off the doorframe”.

“Sorry about that”, you chuckled, and he smirked.

“It’s fine, I basically finished it anyways”.

“Looks like you mastered it, though”, you complimented. Loki looked at you with a little smile.

“Well, I…”. He was about to answer you, but you reached out for a strand of hair on his face and moved it behind his ear. The books fell off abruptly, and Loki did his best to cover you from their impact, covering your whole body with an embrace. He didn’t let go of the hug, but looked at your face with shame. “I’m truly sorry. I got.. surprised, I guess”.

“Don’t worry. And sorry, didn’t mean to make you nervous”.

“Nervous?”.

“Or surprised, whatever”.

“You’re right, though”. He smiled gently once more and lowered his gaze. “You make me feel things, little warrior”.

“Prince Loki, you really shouldn’t…”.

“I can say it, you don’t need to answer it”. You sighed and gave him a knowing look. “If it makes you feel uncomfortable, I’ll stop. If not, let me flirt with you. I don’t need you to flirt back”. You laughed at his proposition and he stared, waiting for a confirmation.

“Fine. But don’t call me princess. You make it sound diminishing”.

“As you wish, my Queen”.

“Oh my God”.

“Precisely”.

You both giggled and tried to keep it down just in case somebody else was awake. The moonlight making its way through the gigantic windows of the library were the only lightning, and the sharp features of the God became even more fascinating by the contrast. His eyes looked deeper. Or maybe it was the way he looked at you with them. You felt naked at his eye, and maybe not in a bad sense.

"What are you thinking about?", he asked after a while. You were both in silence, contemplating each other. Oddly, it wasn't uncomfortable. With Thor, on the other hand, you only felt uncomfortability; even if it wasn't an awkward situation, you knew you were not welcomed by him. Maybe not even his friendship.

"I'm… I think I should get going".

"Why?" he asked, and immediately grabbed your hand. "Stay".

"It's late. Thor might awake and not find me there".

"So?".

"Let's not cause a scandal, Mischief. I have to do what I have to do".

"Maybe you don't have to", he insisted, and you rolled your eyes. With a sigh, he let go off your hand. "I understand. I know you'll be better off like this".

"Yes, I will", you said, faking confidence. Maybe it was your sleep deprived brain that couldn't see right, maybe it was the sudden urge to do what you wanted instead of what you needed; either way, you lingered your way out.

He waited for you to go, but you stayed a little longer, delaying the sneaking back to bed with the man you didn't want to be with. You just needed one reason, only one reason to stay.

"Good night, darling", he said after a while. He knew better than to ruin your future and reputation for his selfish desires. He didn’t want to let you go, he wanted you to be his and only his. But he knew better than to make you a part of his brotherly quarrels. He appreciated you enough to keep you out of it.

"Good night, Loki".

He smiled as you walked away. As much as he shouldn’t have, he got you to call him by just his name.

Not even two weeks passed by and everyone around him already suspected the obvious; the mischievous and rebellious brother was trying to make Thor’s partner fall in love with him. What not everyone knew was that it was completely working.

The stolen glances from up the shoulders in every meeting, every dinner, every event. The long walks around the Gardens, talking about literature, magic and general life. The trainings in one-to-one combat with him that lasted a bit longer than with the rest of the trainers. And you couldn’t help but smile at everything he said or did; it was so much harder than one could think, to hide such thing from Queen Frigga; she saw it all and knew better than everyone in romance. She also knew better than anyone both of her sons, and it was evident how they both felt about you. Because Thor’s stone cold indifference wasn’t one to go unnoticed as well.

In dinner, Loki was again sitting by Thor’s side, and couldn’t help but to chatter about the subject that bothered him so much.

“They’s late, brother; you’ll marry a terribly mannered warrior”, he mocked. Thor rolled his eyes and contraatacked.

“At least I’m marrying them”.

“You say it as if I wanted to”.

“Please”, Thor scoffed.

“Marriage is a boundary. I merely desire them”.

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t want to hold their hand from the Throne, or to put a crown on their head”, mocked Thor. Loki sushed him, because he was completely right. Loki would’ve loved to gently caress your hair and kiss your pink cheeks, to fidget with your ring as he held you in the mornings and nights. Gods, he was lost.

“I do not, anyways. But if you plan on borrowing me wedding night and spare you the annoyance you’d feel by bedding them… I agree”.

“Will you keep on making sexual jokes to avoid real feelings all your life or do you grow up after the 1100 year?”.

You opened the door and got in with your head low and breathing unsteady, embarrassed and apologizing. The princes stopped the chattering and followed you with their eyes. Loki didn’t even hide his expressions of pure and raw desire. Your hair was a disaster, and you were still in your ripped warrior clothes, covered in mud, blood and scratches. The dagger strapped to your thigh was, too, covered in blood.

“Hot”, said Loki, unintentionally louder than he should have. Dear, he loved when you looked like a threatening mess.

“What?”, you asked in a breath, still agitated.

“Eh, hold. Hold the door, I meant”, he corrected himself (everyone was looking, even the guests, and he knew better than to be that inappropriate on certain occasions). But you knew exactly what he said and smirked slightly, just enough for him to notice.

“You were saying… you didn’t want to?”, whispered Thor just before Loki got up and walked through the tables. He didn’t even know what he wanted to do, but if he said ‘hold the door’ he had to keep it verosimil, didn’t he?

As he walked past you, slowing down, he whispered “library, tonight”. And then left the dining room, leaving an even more blushed you to imagine what could he possibly want from you. And your imagination was not precisely innocent.

You took a deep breath and held it for a minute before getting inside. After wandering around the bookshelves, you noticed the room was still empty. Maybe too early? It was barely midnight. Everyone was already asleep and the Palace was, as every night, dead silent.

You sat on the couch and caressed the texture with the tip of your fingers. Was he coming? Did he say it just to make you blush in lunch? Perhaps he was messing with you. He was the God of Lies and Mischief after all, wasn’t he?

After ten minutes you stood up and decided to look for something to read. You wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways, so might as well make the most of the night; with or without prince Loki.

You walked slowly, reading carefully every title. If something had your attention, you’d read it on that beautiful velvet couch, in front of the fireplace. Even grab a mug of coffee, to keep you up until you finish your readings. The plan sounded marvelous, but you couldn’t help but to feel disappointed you wouldn’t spend the night with him.

You weren’t expecting to actually get physical, of course. He was not your fiancé and would never be. He was barely a lover. Not even that. He was the man you loved and desired, yes. But merely platonic. It wouldn’t go any further. It couldn’t go any further.

But you were expecting to have that precious alone time he gifted you in the nights, where everything was off and both of you were the only flame alive in the whole Kingdom. The glances he threw at you, the smiles he drew to let you know you were appreciated; you were wanted, you were loved by him.

As you reached for one of the books, a bigger hand wrapped around yours and the book, making you gasp.

“Hello”, he whispered in your ear, earning a shiver from you. Just that, he didn’t need to do any more than that to set on all your alarms and get your face redder and hotter than ever.

You turned around and smiled. He didn’t move away; in fact, he raised both his arms to your sides and locked you between him and the bookshelf.

“Seems like you won’t let me go away, won’t you?”.

“I don’t think you would even if I gave you the opportunity”.

“And how are you so sure about that?”.

“You came here, as I asked you to”.

“So?”.

“Are you actually going to play dumb?”.

You both laughed slightly, still not wanting to make a single noise. He got a few inches closer, and you did too. You raised a hand and fondled his hair. Moved your hand all the way from up his ear to down his neck. He slowly slipped down one hand to your waist and the other one to your collarbone, making the same deep eye contact he made with such lust; that desire he always looked at you, but amplified to a hundred and ten percent.

Now both of your hands were cupping his face. He was warm. And smiley. And… God, gorgeous. Godly gorgeous, as he always was. You traced with your fingers his cheekbones, his jaw, his neck. You sighed.

“May I kiss you?” He whispered, getting even closer. His breathing was slow and you could feel it on your face. His question was barely audible, yet so strongly loud to you.

May he kiss you? May you kiss him? You weren’t supposed to be even that close with him. You weren’t allowed. You shouldn’t look at him the way you did. Or touch him the way you wanted to. But there he was, asking to kiss you. And you had no other words in your vocabulary else than;

“Please”.

279 notes · View notes

sierraraeck · 3 years

Text

Control

JJ x John B

Masterlist

Summary: JJ likes losing control, and there is no one safer he can do that with than his boyfriend, John B. But after a particularly awful week, JJ just needs something he can be in control of.

Category: Smut, angst

Warnings: Cussing/slurs, JJ’s home life so abuse and violence, allusion to sexual abuse, rough sex, choking, safe word used. Look, this gets dark, so this is your warning.

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: I agree with a lot of other people that in their relationship, John B is usually the dominant one because JJ likes losing control, but I’m convinced that after a really fucking bad week, he just loses it and needs something he can control. This is what I imagine that would look like.

•••

It had been a bad week. It felt never ending, getting roughed up by the Kooks, running from the cops, taking the fall for Pope, and now this.

If you keep going down this road, you’re going to end up just like your dad.

Maybe his best friend, and within the last year or so his boyfriend, was right. Maybe he, and everyone else on the island who constantly reminded him of his blood, was right. Maybe he was destined to be a complete fuck up with no future other than three cement walls and a grid of bars. Not like JJ’d ever imagined his life going any differently.

We’re sick of your shit.

Those were the words echoing in his head as his feet made the decision before his mind did.

You are a worthless piece of shit.

He remembered something Pope had told him once, that the brain can’t differentiate between the truth and something that has been repeated to you over and over.

You’ll be back here one day. You good for nothing piece of shit, that’s why your mamma left. Stay down, boy. I don’t care where you’ve been. Really living up to your name, Maybank. You’re just like your daddy. Fucking bastard. Worthless.

Must be true, right? If everyone is saying it, including the only people he’s ever really thought cared about him, it must be true.

As he opened the door to the run down shack, he already knew what he’d see, but a shutter of fear still raced down his spine. His dad was sitting on the couch, all kinds of beer and pill bottles scattered around him.

“What the hell you doing back here, boy?” the gruff voice of JJ’s nightmares asked.

“Dad, I-”

“The least your worthless ass could do is get me a beer.”

JJ complied, because, what else was he going to do? Weak.

As he walked over to his dad, the smell of beer was overwhelming. It always was, but the smell seemed stronger than he remembered. His dad's tolerance must be higher than it was a few weeks ago.

“Open it,” Luke demanded.

JJ tried, he really did, but his hands were shaking too damn much. Come on, don’t be such a pussy.

Apparently he couldn’t do it fast enough, so Luke ripped the bottle out of his hands, causing it to shatter on the floor. JJ flinched at the sound.

“What are you, retarded? Can’t even open one goddamned bottle!”

JJ didn’t even try to duck. He felt Luke’s knuckle make contact with his cheekbone, head whipping to the side. We’re sick of your shit, JJ.

“Dad-”

“Don’t fucking beg you weak, worthless piece of shit!”

Flames enveloped his gut, followed by another fire lit over his ribs. We don’t want you around.

The voice he was hearing sounded an awful lot like John B’s.

“Fucking pathetic! Just like your mother!” JJ was on the floor now, not completely able to remember how he got there. As his body screamed in pain with each new kick, his mind was getting farther and farther away from where he was.

Our lives would be better without you in it. I would be so much happier if I had a boyfriend who wasn’t such a burden, such a fuck up. Someone without so many fucking issues.

He could feel the blood dripping down his face and leg, but refused to make himself consciously aware of it.

This is what you deserve, JJ.

This is what you deserve.

•••

Twenty-eight hours. That’s how long it’d been since John B last saw JJ. The moment he walked out the door John B kicked himself for it.

He couldn’t believe he’d actually said that to JJ. ‘You’re going to end up just like your dad.’ He couldn’t think of a worse thing to say to JJ.

It’d overall been a shit week, and John B knew that he was sleep deprived and irritable from everything that’d gone on, not like that was any excuse for what he’d done.

As time ticked by, John B just kept going over everything he’d done wrong in the past week.

You’re going to end up just like your dad. We’re sick of your shit.

Not to mention the time he grabbed JJ by the collar of his shirt and shoved him up against the wall. The way JJ flinched and seemed to shrink into himself, immediately casting his eyes down, was an image John B couldn’t get out of his head. He knew better than to touch JJ without explicitly asking or giving him plenty of forewarning, let alone grab him out of nowhere while he was angry.

God, JJ looked so scared in that moment, and John B couldn’t even believe he’d just made the person he cared about most in the world feel threatened by him. And JJ didn’t even look like he’d fight back. He looked like he was bracing himself, ready to take whatever harm was to come to him.

JJ put so much trust in John B, letting him be in control of their most intimate time together. JJ once told him that he felt the most safe when he was around John B, and he heard all of the words not said in that one sentence. I trust you. I trust you to have power over me, emotionally and physically. I trust you enough to be vulnerable, knowing that I won’t get hurt. Knowing that you won’t hurt me.

And John B felt like within the span of a week, he’d destroyed all of that.

Just come home, just come home, just come home. Please, JJ, just come back to me.

The sun was starting to set, and John B was getting even more antsy. They’d never had a fight that kept JJ away for longer than a day or so, which meant that John B already knew where JJ was, even though he didn’t want to believe it.

Shit, shit, shit…

John B headed toward the door of the chateau, flinging it open on a mission to save JJ when he looked up.

Oh thank god.

JJ was standing on his porch, hand clutching his side and a couple butterfly bandages over his eyebrow and cheek. His shirt was torn, displaying the three developing bruises John B could see, meaning there were probably at least twice as many he couldn’t see.

John B’s mouth was hanging open, stopped dead in his tracks, unable to find the words to tell JJ how sorry he was and how much he wished he could’ve been better and how-

But his train of thought was cut off when JJ took two big strides towards him, smashing their lips together like it was the only thing keeping him alive. His hands were gripping onto John B’s sides, wadding up the cloth in his fists, and moved the pair of them back into the chateau, kicking the door shut with his foot.

JJ backed John B into the nearest wall, the intensity of the kiss momentarily distracting John B from the bigger situation at hand. JJ tugged John B’s shirt up, helping him out of it.

As they parted to remove the garment, John B tried to get JJ’s attention. “JJ-”

He didn’t let him get any more words out, though, pressing their lips back together the moment he could.

John B knew that JJ had a lot of pent up anger toward his father, toward the kooks, toward the world. He knew that JJ put on a show of being powerful, untouchable, even. JJ wanted others to think he was always in complete control, and while unhinged at times, a force to be reckoned with. JJ wanted others to think he was strong, and John B knew that was because of how frequently he was told he was weak.

John B thought JJ was as tough as they came. He was sure that if anyone else had been dealt the hand JJ had, they’d be doing a hell of a lot worse, and was impressed by his boyfriend on the daily.

But John B always thought JJ was the strongest when he was the most vulnerable, when he was with him, making this new dominant side of JJ concerning. JJ liked losing control and letting his guard down when he was with John B, letting John B take the lead. Right now, though, JJ was putting his walls back up, the tough act coming out. That’s how John B knew shit had really gotten bad, and he couldn’t help but blame himself for it.

John B tried again, “JJ.” He got the same reaction he did the first time, a non answer. John B delicately placed his hands on JJ’s shoulders, creating just a few inches of space between them as he finally got his attention. “JJ, JJ, slow down. I’ve been worried about you. What is going on, what hap-”

“John B,” JJ cut him off with a low, abnormally calm voice. John B stared in silence, growing even more concerned and confused by the look of intensity in his eyes. “Shut up.”

John B knew that at the end of the day, he’d do whatever JJ asked of him, but it didn’t stop him from trying to get more information. “JJ, I just-”

“Please,” JJ almost pleaded, gazing deep into his eyes. “Give me tonight.” John B stared at his boyfriend for a few more seconds before nodding his head. “Tell me if things get too-”

“I know,” John B assured, remembering the safe word they’d established early on in their relationship, South, and the one time JJ had to use it. He’d had a panic attack, mumbling something about a flashback, but John B had never gotten anything more than that.

With the green light, JJ slipped his tongue back into John B’s mouth, cool rings on his hand pressing into his neck, using his body to push John B back against the wall.

JJ was running his hands all over John B’s exposed chest, John B slowly moving his hands up to place on JJ’s waist. The moment he made the slightest contact though, JJ flinched away, grabbing both of his wrists and pinning them to the wall.

His grip was unfaltering, and stronger than usual, and JJ held his wrists there as he started kissing down John B’s body, pausing to suck and graze his teeth over a few spots.

Reaching the waistband of John B’s shorts, JJ moved his grip from John B’s wrists in order to yank his shorts and underwear down. John B’s hands started to tingle, unaware until just then that JJ had been gripping so tight it started cutting off blood flow.

JJ, now on his knees, started pumping his hand slowly up and down John B’s half-hard shaft, the contact sending a shiver down his spine.

At one point, John B couldn’t stop the small jerk of his hips toward JJ, which was the wrong thing to do, as JJ’s crushing grip was back, both hands holding onto his hips and slamming them back into the wall. JJ resorted to using his mouth instead, lips wrapping around the tip and hollowing his cheeks. John B tossed his head back, harder than he intended, making a somewhat painful contact with the wall. JJ started bobbing his head up and down at a faster pace, only breaking contact once to wet two of his fingers which he circled around John B’s hole.

John B could see the contractions of JJ’s biceps, and almost felt his fingers shaking against him. He was confused at first about what it meant, but soon figured out that he was holding back. JJ had always been the dominant one in his flings with girls, but had never been in this position with John B before. He could tell that JJ wasn’t going as far as he wanted to, that he was restraining himself from taking what he wanted.

John B wanted to know everything that JJ had to give, and acknowledged, in almost a challenge-like way, “You’re holding back on me.”

Within a flash, JJ stood up, threading his fingers through John B’s hair to yank his head back, his other hand keeping it’s harsh grip on his hip. John B whimpered at the sensations.

Looking down on him, JJ demanded, “Is that not what you want?”

John B thought it wasn’t, but seeing him now, and knowing how much darkness he has, there was a fraction of a second where he wanted to change his mind. But the second passed and John B still wanted to see all of JJ, every dark and twisted corner, everything he hadn’t seen before. And he could tell that it was taking a lot of effort for JJ to restrain himself, too much effort. John B wanted him to let go.

He shook his head, voice coming out as only a small whisper, “It’s not what you want either.”

It was like flipping a switch. With force, JJ dragged him by his hair to the bedroom, and once inside, threw John B onto the mattress.

It felt a little unfair, John B completely exposed in front of JJ while he still had his shorts and shirt on. It was getting dark now, the sun having completely set over the water, leaving only the light of twilight to illuminate JJ’s face as he climbed over John B.

He quickly coated his fingers with the lube from the bedside table before shoving them into John B. With his other hand, JJ was tugging his own shorts down and reached for a condom. He had to remove his fingers from John B to put it on, causing John B to squirm in his absence.

Without any forewarning, and barely any time to adjust, JJ was pushing into John B, drawing a small whine from his kiss-swollen lips.

JJ set a bruising pace, leaving John B gasping for air. “JJ-” he choked out.

“Is this what you wanted?” JJ hissed, hand snaking up to wrap around John B’s throat. “You wanted to see just how fucked up I am?”

JJ’s grip was getting tighter, his pace faster, as he kept talking. “Well, Maybanks are only good for one thing, so you’re right. I will end up just like him some day. I already am like him. A fucked up monster.”

“J, no, that’s not-” John B started to say, as he reached a hand up to grab JJ’s wrist in an attempt to loosen his grip.

“Don’t touch me!” JJ yelled. John B removed his hand like he’d been burned. “Don’t you get it? I ruin everything I touch!”

John B’s face was starting to flush, his head getting fuzzy. He could only concentrate on the cool rings digging into his neck and the words JJ was saying, sounding farther and farther away.

“Have you ever experienced death before?” JJ whispered like a threat next to his ear. “Because I have. I can show you.”

“Jayj-” John B pleaded, using his last reserve of breath. “S..so-south.”

And just like that, JJ was off him, backing himself against a wall as far away from John B as possible. John B took a deep, shuddering breath and swallowed, closing his eyes until the fuzziness in his head subsided.

When he felt like he could think again, he sat up and looked around the room for JJ. He was crouched in a dark corner of the room, head in his hands, knees trying to block his face.

“JJ,” John B said with a scruffy voice, standing up to walk over to his boyfriend. He slid down the wall until he was seated next to JJ, sure to leave enough room for him to move without touching him. JJ curled into himself even more, leaning away from John B. “JJ, please look at me.”

JJ did as he asked, alluring blue eyes shimmering with tears, a dramatic difference from the dark, intense orbs of only a few seconds before.

“I’m okay,” John B assured.

JJ shook his head, eyes roaming over his hands, and hiccupped, “I hurt you.”

“You didn’t, I promise. I’m okay, I’m right here,” John B told him.

JJ’s eyes were panicked as he scanned over John B’s body. John B followed his gaze, evaluating the already forming marks on his hips and wrists. He was sure that JJ’d left a handprint on his neck, too, which was where JJ’s gaze lingered the longest. “No. I hurt you. I need to leave.”

JJ stood up, making a noise of discomfort as he did so, and hurried toward the door. John B was behind him in an instant and put his hand on the door. JJ stopped in his tracks, taking a step back from John B and looked back at the ground.

JJ was shutting down, John B knew that, and he knew that he had to reach him fast before he went completely under. “JJ,” John B whispered, “Can I… Can I touch you?”

JJ didn’t answer, but he didn’t back away or say no. John B slowly raised his arm, hovering his hand before JJ. “Is this going to be okay?”

JJ nodded, and before John B could fully process it, JJ was throwing himself into his arms, clinging to him like he never had before. He started sobbing, forehead pressed against his chest, and John B couldn’t hold back the tears that slipped down his own cheeks.

“How can anyone ever trust me if I can’t even be trusted around you?” JJ choked out. John B wasn’t sure if he’d heard him right, because he was speaking so quietly, but he thought he heard him ask ‘how can I trust myself?’

John B walked the two of them backwards toward the bed, sitting down as gently as possible. He attempted to pull away from JJ, but JJ held onto him. Tilting JJ’s head up, he pressed a kiss to his forehead, then promised, “I’ll be right back.”

John B walked over to put on a new pair of boxers before grabbing the first aid kit, and returned to where JJ was on the corner of the mattress. He lifted JJ’s shirt over his head, tossing it aside.

It hadn’t been this bad in a while. There were four purple, fist-sized bruises littering JJ’s torso, a yellowish one on the back of one of his shoulder blades, and a cut along the top of JJ’s shoulder down his tricep, not to mention the cuts he’d already bandaged himself over his eyebrow and cheek. John B coaxed JJ out of his shorts, which displayed something even worse.

There was a giant stack of gauze covered by a poor wrap job below JJ’s hip, reaching down the side of his thigh. “J… what… what happened?”

“He uh… he um… uh,” JJ trailed off, swiping at his nose. John B stayed silent, giving JJ time to put the words together in his head. “He called me… he said I was a dirty fag and that anyone who wanted to be with me was lying and using me because who would ever actually want to be around me? And then he made me…” JJ shuddered out a sigh and shook his head. “And then he tore his beer can in half and jammed it into my leg.”

“And you tried to bandage this up by yourself?” John B asked, concern dripping from every word. They both heard the real question, ‘You didn’t come to me?’

JJ shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought… I thought you might be getting tired of having to deal with this.” Having to deal with me.

“I will never get tired of being around you,” John B guaranteed. To emphasize his point, John B placed a kiss on JJ’s lips, then both his cheeks, his closed eyelids, down his neck. “I love you, JJ. There will never be a moment when that is not true.” Kissing across JJ’s cut shoulder and down his shoulder blade, John B felt him start to relax. He brushed his lips as delicately as he could over the bruises he found there, then traveled down his torso to do the same. “I love every inch of you. Every corner of your mind.”

“That’s the cheesiest shit I’ve ever heard,” JJ said with a small laugh.

John B smiled, looking up at JJ through his eyelashes. “I know. Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

JJ brought John B up to kiss him, a finger under his chin, pulling him as close as he could.

When they parted, JJ whispered, “I love you too.”

They stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at each other with small smiles for a while before John B said, “Let’s get you patched up.”

•••

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you thought, feedback is appreciated. :)

Find me on AO3 at the same username.

#jj outer banks #obx fanfiction #outer banks imagines #jj maybank imagine #jj x john b #outer banks #jj maybank x john b #john b routledge #outer banks imagine #obx #jj obx #john b obx #obx imagine #jj maybank #john booker routledge #john b outer banks #smut #angst

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

As Soon As I Can

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Request from @alienstardust: Umm All the angst in those childhood prompts. I’m a fan! Yes! <3 Maybe something with Nestor? 💫 thank you

I went with this prompt from This Post: When Person A and Person B were kids, Person A broke their arm and had to wear a cast for a while. To make them feel better, Person B decorated it by drawing a bunch of doodles and quotes all over it. When Person A finally got the cast off, they asked the doctor if they could keep it. Years later, Person A takes the cast to a tattoo artist and gets all of Person B’s doodles and quotes tattooed onto their arm so they can wear them forever.

Warnings: language, angst, hospitals

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I looooooved writing this. Writing has been tough for me lately but this just felt really right. This is my first fic where I’ve done a lot of time skips within the story so hopefully it flows alright. Hope you guys enjoy! xo

General Mayans Taglist: @garbinge @mayans-sauce @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @queenbeered @sillygoose6969 @sesamepancakes @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @gemini0410 @multiyfandomgirl40 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @kkim120 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck

You and Nestor were sitting in your back yard, sprawled out together under the one tree that managed to survive so many years in the California heat. You were laying on your back, cast-bound arm lying rigidly out to the side. You were staring up through the leaves as you listened to Nestor talk.

“At least they let you pick the color,” he was next to you, laying on his stomach as he dug through his backpack.

You laugh was heavy with sarcasm, “Yea, if I’m not gonna be able to move my arm for the next eight weeks it’s the least they could fucking do.”

“You sound bitter.”

You looked over at him, “I am bitter.”

He chuckled and shook his head, he was about to come back with a witty remark when he got distracted by finding whatever he had been looking for. He smiled as he pulled it out, “Aha!” he held up his pack of Sharpies.

“What’re those for?” you nodded towards the markers.

“For your cast.”

“You’re gonna decorate my cast?” you had to laugh.

“Yea,” he was carefully choosing a few different markers to start with, “Maybe it’ll make you feel better about totally eating it falling off your skateboard the other day.”

You laughed as you reached over and shoved him with your good arm, “Shut up—like you haven’t fallen a million times.”

“No casts for me, though,” there was a cocky smirk on his face.

“No casts for me, though,” you mocked as you tried not to laugh.

You watched him in semi-silence as he started at your wrist and slowly but surely made his way up your cast, covering it with all sorts of doodles and quotes. Sometimes you forgot how artistic he could be. You went back and forth between watching him and just resting your head back and closing your eyes. Neither of you kept track of the time as he stayed sprawled on his stomach beside you. the two of you probably would’ve stayed out until dark if your mom hadn’t stuck her head out and said that Nestor’s brother was there to pick him up and bring him home. Nestor threw all of his things back into his bag before helping you up.

Once he was gone, you took some time to actually look at the cast. You smiled at the amount of work he put into something that you were only going to have for a couple months. Your fingers traced lightly over the many marker lines that now covered your cast. Your mother looked over your shoulder at the artwork, a smile passing over her lips for a moment.

“Did Nestor do that?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off of your arm, “Yea.”

She nodded, “That was sweet of him.”

You scoffed trying to suppress the smile on your face, “I guess.”

The next eight weeks passed by. And, despite the fact that having your arm in a cast was incredibly inconvenient, it could have been a lot worse. Nestor walked with you to all of your classes, offering to carry your backpack despite the fact that you told him that your busted arm had nothing to do with your ability to carry a bag. Whenever the two of you were together and things were quiet, he would keep adding onto the tiny mural that was your cast. Sometimes you wondered how much more he could fit on it, but he always found a way. For as much as you wanted it off, you were going to miss the bonding time for the two of you. And you were going to miss the artwork, too.

“So,” the doctor smiled and nodded at you, “you are all good to go. We can get the cast off and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Yea?” the thought of having your arm back made you feel giddy.

“Absolutely.”

You felt like a new person once your arm was free of the confines of the cast. Letting out a sigh of relief, you rotated your wrist a few times and carefully ran your fingers over the freshly-exposed skin, glad to feel like you were back in control of your own body.

“I can get rid of this,” your doctor held up the cast he’d just finished so carefully removing, “Unless you want to keep it as a momento.”

“Um, actually,” you felt your face heating up as you avoided eye contact with your mother, “Could I keep it?”

The doctor nodded, smiling as he handed it over to you, “It’s quite the work of art at this point—I understand wanting to hold onto it.”

On the drive home, you felt your mother glancing over at you every couple of minutes, a knowing smile on her face. You tried to ignore it but eventually you broke.

“What?” you were careful of your tone.

She laughed quietly and shook her head, “Nothing. Just, I think it’s nice that you’re keeping it, that’s all.”

“Mhm,” you tried to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks again, but that only made it worse.

You never told Nestor that you kept the cast. You never really knew exactly why you didn’t tell him—the two of you told each other pretty much everything else. The two of you spent almost all of your free time together, and as soon as he found out that your cast had been removed he was dragging you right back out to do things that could potentially break your arm all over again, and you let him. He never asked about the cast, so you never brought it up. There were moments, as the two of you got a little older, where you wanted to mention it to him in passing that it was something that you kept, but the moment never seemed quite right. Each time you went to clean out your room and your closet you would come across it, and each time you were faced with the decision of whether or not you wanted to keep it, and you always did. You always told yourself that you didn’t know why, but you knew.

“Alright,” you were trying not to let yourself get too emotional as you sat cross-legged on his bed watching him pack “You can’t do anything stupid while I’m not around to yell at you for it, alright?”

He chuckled as he shoved another shirt into his bag, “Trust me, there will be plenty of other people around to yell at me. That’s the whole point of—”

“But they can’t do it as well as I can.”

He glanced over at you, a small smile on his face. He knew how upset you were despite the fact that you were still being supportive. Him going into the Navy was something that you hadn’t seen coming. The thought of him being gone for so long after the two of you had spent so much of your lives practically joined at the hip was a bit jarring. You knew the ache in your chest was caused by more feelings than you were ready to admit to him, or to yourself.

“It’s not like you’ll never hear from me.”

You huffed, “Snail mail is not the same as bothering you in person,” you flopped backwards on the bed, “And for the record I still think it’s bullshit that you don’t get to call me.”

He laughed as he stood up and sat on the bed, looking down at you, “Don’t be dramatic. I’ll be in basic for less time than you had that stupid cast on your arm.”

“Yea but it’s not like you’re coming right home after that.”

He nodded, his expression sobering a little as he continued to look at you, “I know.”

“You’ll come home to visit me as soon as you can?”

He chuckled, nodding, “As soon as I can.”

For a moment you thought about spilling your guts—telling him everything that you were thinking and feeling. There was something about the way that he was looking at you that made you feel like maybe he felt the same way. But the confidence that shot through you went away as quickly as it appeared, and the moment passed as he continued to pack his things.

True to his word, you got letters in the mail. You saved each one, kept them stashed away in your closet alongside the cast that was still there collecting dust even after years of being shuffled around. You sent more letters than you received, not that you really minded. You figured that he needed them more than you did.

However as the months ticked by, you waited for him to say he was coming home, but he never did. It was one thing right into the next and the more time that passed by, the more you wondered if this was how he slipped away from you, even though he swore that that wouldn’t happen. He reached out when he could, when he had the time. And you knew that he had other priorities, and realistically you did too. But there was still part of you that felt like things were changing too much.

Your heart sped up inside your chest when you got a late-night phone call from him. You scrambled to answer it, “Hello?”

“Hey,” he sounded exhausted.

“Hey,” you pulled your blanket up to your chin as you spoke to him, “H-how are you?”

“I’m alright,” he sighed, “It’s good to hear your voice.”

You smiled despite the weight settling in your chest, “It’s good to hear yours too. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

You didn’t want to push and pry, but you couldn’t help asking, “When are you coming home?”

There was a long pause before he spoke up again, “I, uh, I don’t really know.”

“Don’t they give you guys leave or something?”

He let out a tired chuckle, “Yea. But, um, I’m not sure if I’m going to be coming home for leave anytime soon.”

Your heart crumped inside your chest, “Why not?”

“Got some shit that I’m working on lining up here. Doesn’t hurt to stay close.”

You hated that your bottom lip was beginning to tremble, “Right.”

He knew you too well and you could hear the shift in his tone, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” you replied immediately, “Fuck, don’t be sorry. I’m proud of you, really. Keep…keep doing your thing.”

“Thank you for always being there. It’s been…it’s been nice knowing someone is in my corner when no one else seems to be,” there was a beat of silence, “You seen my family lately?”

You took a deep breath, “No. Why, everything alright?”

He sighed, “Wouldn’t know.”

You pressed your lips together into a tight line—things had never been simple for him when it came to family, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll be home to see you as soon as I can be, alright?”

Your breath was shaky as you exhaled, “Alright,” you were about to say goodbye but your brain betrayed you, “Hey, Nestor?”

“Yea?”

“I love you,” the words fell from your lips, free of their confines after so many years of locking them away.

It might’ve been you projecting, but you could’ve sworn that he let out a sigh of relief, “I love you too.”

That was the last thing that you’d heard from him. He went radio silent after that. You wondered if it was just you that he was ignoring, but no one seemed to have heard anything from him—his own family included. The only things that were running through your mind were terrible. All of your calls went unanswered, all of your texts went unopened. The letters that you sent didn’t get kicked back to you but you never got responses to any of them either. He had blipped off the radar seemingly without a trace and you had no idea why. You lost a lot of sleep over it but at the same time, life didn’t stop for anyone. You had to keep moving forward while a very large part of you was stuck in the past.

You were packing up your room, getting ready to move into your own apartment. You were throwing things from your closet into random bags and boxes—organization had never been your strong suit. As you were leafing through everything, pulling things down off the top shelf of your closet, you were smacked in the face with a stack of papers. You managed to catch them before they hit the ground, tears instantly springing into your eyes when you realized what they were. Your heart sped up inside your chest as you stood on your tip-toes, reaching for the very back of the shelf. The feeling of the plaster underneath your fingers sent a shock through your body as you pulled it towards you. Looking over it, you were bombarded with an onslaught of memories.

Packing fell by the wayside as you sat on your bed, reading through the letters and looking over all the artwork that was still holding up on the cast. How you managed to keep your tears from falling, you didn’t know.

There was a light knock on your door and you looked up, trying to make yourself look much less upset than you were. The smile immediately dropped from your mother’s face when she saw what you were doing, how it was upsetting you. She leaned against the doorframe as she tried to figure out what to say to you to try and make things better.

“I’m sorry, honey,” her tone was sincere.

You shook your head as you set your cast to the side, “Don’t be. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You hadn’t really spoken much to her about it all—there wasn’t a whole lot to say. You didn’t have any answers and with each day that went by it was less likely that you would ever get them. It was difficult to tell whether or not it was more reassuring for you that no one had heard from him, not just you.

“There’s nothing to talk about. He just fucking disappeared, I guess. I just need to accept it and get on with my life.”

“He was your best friend—you’re allowed to be upset about it, you know.”

Even though you knew it, it was nice to hear her say it to you. Wiping the tears from your eyes before they could stain your cheeks, you nodded, “I know.”

She lightly drummed her fingers on the door frame, “You keeping those?”

There was a long pause before you finally nodded, “I think so.”

She nodded, “I’ll go grab you another box.”

“This thing looks like it’s been through the wringer,” your tattoo artist chuckled as she looked over the cast you’d brought with you.

You managed a smile, “Because it has. I’ve had that thing since I was in, fucking, like eighth grade I think? Long time.”

“What made you decide to get this done now?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Figured it’ll be better than moving it from one closet to the next over the course of my life.”

You could tell by the look on her face, that she wanted to ask for the story behind it all. But the fact that you didn’t offer it up, made her not pry. You’d always been open so if you were keeping something to yourself, she respected that. The two of you talked about the logistics of it, and the changes you want to make to clean it up a little bit. You were excited to come back and get it done, though.

Despite the wait, your excitement and nervousness about coming back didn’t fade. You didn’t regret the decision, but it was still nerve-wracking as you got ready to sit down in the chair. She had you look over the pattern she’d drawn up, and when you gave her the okay she laid the stencil out on your arm and got to work. You watched her as she brought it all to life—it was a little cleaner and more grown-up than the original scribbles and doodles, but it felt right. Tears stung at the edges of your eyes but it wasn’t because of the physical pain of getting the tattoo.

She was wrapping it up in saranwrap as she gave you the run-down of taking care of the tattoo. You’d heard the spiel before but you still listened anyway. You had a hard time taking your eyes off of the artwork as you made your way back out to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you let out a sigh as you tried to inspect the ink as best you could through the wrap around your arm.

The next day, you were putting on a fresh wrap over your tattoo after your shower when you heard your phone buzzing in the next room. With a heavy sigh, you slapped a piece of tape onto the wrap and scrambled to get to your phone before you missed the call. Looking down at the screen, you didn’t recognize the number. But it was an off-hour for a scammer to be calling so you answered it on a whim. Worst case scenario you would just hang up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, my name is Rita and I work at Imperial Hospital. I’m looking for Ms. Y/N?”

“Um, speaking?” you had no idea where this was going.

“Good morning. Someone was admitted and you are their only emergency contact—no next of kin listed. Do you know a Mr. Nestor Oceteva?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, “Yes,” you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, “Yes I do. Is he alright?”

“He’s going to be fine,” her tone was calm enough to give you the smallest sliver of reassurance, “But we do need you to come in and answer some questions for us. He’s been in and out of it and we need someone who can give us reliable information.”

“O-okay. Yea. Yea I’ll leave right now. It’ll be about an hour or so before I get there though. Is that alright? He’s going to be okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s going to be fine. Thank you so much for your cooperation.”

You hung up the phone and started flying around your apartment to get ready. You had no idea what you were about to be walking into but at this point you didn’t care. All these years you’ve been wondering about him and he was two towns over. You were as angry as you were relieved.

The line of questions that the nurses asked you seemed endless. You knew that it was all important but there was nothing that you wanted more than to be in the room and see that it really was him, that this wasn’t just some cruel trick from the universe.

Finally, the nurse started walking you back. You only heard half of what she was saying to you about his condition as the two of you approached the room. You heard that he was stable and the rest didn’t really matter to you. your hands were trembling as she gestured to the door to his room, telling you that she would give you a few minutes to yourselves.

You slowly opened the door and a sob lodged itself in your throat as you looked at him. He was passed out, whether the sleep was genuine or from the meds you didn’t know. Truthfully, it was almost difficult to see that it was the Nestor you knew and loved—but you could still see it. Underneath the cuts and scrapes, beneath the braids and the tattoos, there was still your Nestor. The man you knew all those years ago was somewhere underneath it all.

Walking over, you collapsed in the chair next to his bed. You reached out and took his hand in your own, seeing the scars and scabs that covered his knuckles. Whatever he’d been doing all those years, it wasn’t treating him well. You let out a shaky breath as the tears started to fall. You tried to keep your emotions bottled up and quiet, but you couldn’t. There were too many there that you had been battling with and pushing down over the years.

Your crying made him stir. With a quiet groan of pain he opened his eyes and turned to look and see who was in the room with him. His entire body went stiff as his eyes flew completely open, unable to believe that you were sitting there with him.

“H-holy shit,” he coughed, trying to sit up, “Y/N?”

He was conscious and able to speak, so you punched him in the upper arm, “As soon as I can my ass, Nestor.”

He winced and smiled, and you could see all of the motions in his eyes, “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“You fucking should be.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

There were a few beats of silence and then he heard the crinkling of the wrap on your arm as you crossed them and he nodded towards it, “Fresh?”

Heat instantly flooded to your face and you fought the urge to get up and run out of the room, “Got it yesterday.”

“Can I see?”

You hated that he was talking to you like everything was normal, but you couldn’t lie and said that you didn’t miss it. Taking a deep breath, you laid your arm down on the hospital bed for him to inspect. A smile instantly took over his features when he saw what it was. He looked up at you, and when he saw the happiness and hurt both in your expression, his smile dulled a little bit.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck, Nestor?”

“I know, I know. I should’ve said something.”

“Uh…yea.”

“When they let me out of here, will you let me take you somewhere and tell you all about it?”

“I mean. I guess. But only because I’m nosey,” you managed a smile through the tears.

“I love you.”

The words made your heart skip a beat in your chest, “I love you too.”

“That’s way less clunky than a cast,” he tapped the plastic wrap.

You smiled, wiping the tears away, “Yea, I guess so.”

“I can’t believe you still have the same number after all these years.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, “I kept it in case your ass decided to smarten up and call me one of these days.”

“Hospital calling you on my behalf doesn’t count?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “No. No it doesn’t.”

He reached over and clasped your hand in his, “I’m really glad that you’re here.”

With a deep sigh, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his forehead, careful to miss all the scrapes, “Me too.”

There was so much more to be said, but it could wait. You tried to soak up the feeling of his hand over yours, smiles appearing on both of your faces despite the lost time and the gravity of the situation. A lot of things had changed, but as you felt the heat from his palm and the way his thumb traced back and forth over your hand, you knew the important things were still exactly the same.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva imagine #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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