#no but seriously those WIPs are kicking my ass | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peyton-warren · 2 years

Text

Chaos and Clothes Part 1- Chaos

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Jo Harvelle, Ellen Harvelle, Impala

Pairings: Dean Winchester/ Jo Harvelle

Fandom: Supernatural

Word count: 2694

Type: Angst, fluff, smut

Warning: 18+ only! Language, horrible flirting, SPN flavored violence and eventual sexual situation.

Author's Note: Moving this over from my AO3 because I have recently written an epilogue despite having 27 million other WIPs on deck. Title comes from Jason Isbell's song of the same name. Pretty much everything he's done was my constant companion while writing this.

Summary: Slight AU: Imagine if Ellen didn't come get her daughter Jo after her hunt with the Winchesters in Philly in No Exit. Just pretend Dean promised Ellen they would deliver her safe and sound back to the roadhouse. What happened in that fully paid for apartment the night before they left for Nebraska?

Ask Box: Open

Series Masterlist

Master list

With a soft crack of her shoulder, Jo stretched as she stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her damp frame, copious amounts of steam flowing into the room with her. She couldn't remember the last time she enjoyed a shower as much that one. It had alleviated some of the aches that seemed to fill her body. Bar tending hadn't really prepared her for squishing through tight spaces, being dragged by a specter, or trying to escape from a metal box in the dark.

She shuddered slightly as she thought about the dirty holes the specter had shoved her and Theresa into, not to mention the creepy petting they had to endure. Jo closed her eyes and shook her head, pushing those thoughts aside, lest she need another lengthy shower. She needed to be stronger than this if she wanted to continue hunting. No hunter, much less Dean Winchester, would ever take her seriously if she let herself fall apart after this one hunt. Seasoned hunters had experienced way worse things than being taken and groped by a creepy-ass ghost.

With a steadying shake of her head, she reached into her backpack, searching for clothes when the door to the apartment slammed open. Dean stumbled into the apartment carrying an armload of brown bags and a bewildered look as he tried to regain his footing.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself as he moved back to the door with certainty, giving it a swift kick for his troubles. He winced for a second, studying the doorframe intently for damage. "Well it ain't my deposit," he said, shrugging and turning toward the kitchen.

It was only after Jo could no longer hold back a giggle that Dean realized she was there and that she realized he could see her. His look of surprise turned to something entirely different as she tightened the towel around her and grabbed the first shirt and set of underthings she could from her bag.

"Didn't expect you back so soon," she smiled feebly as she felt another soft tremor flow through her body. Though this one had a lot less to do with the terror she'd felt in the sewer and more to do with the with the foreign look in the other hunter's eyes. If Jo didn't know any better, she'd almost swear Dean looked...hungry?

His expression was gone in an instant. Dean cleared his throat and began to hurriedly divest himself of his spoils, turning his attention to the groceries instead of her. "You use up all the hot water?" he groused, the friendly big brother tone back in his voice as he unloaded beer into the fridge.

Recognizing an escape when she saw one, Jo smiled nervously, backing toward the bathroom. "Mighta left you some. Gimme a second and the bathroom is all yours."

"No rush, sweetheart. Got all night," he assured her as he opened one of the beers, tilting the open mouth toward her in salute. "Cuz you done good today."

With a small, embarrassed smile, Jo closed the door and rested her forehead against it for a second before taking a deep breath and stepping back to get dressed. She let the damp towel hit the floor before tugging her panties into place. She glanced at herself in the mirror as she put her bra on, suddenly wishing she had grabbed coordinating under things when she packed for this trip.

Silently she berated herself. No one but her was going to see if her panties matched her bra tonight. She needed to let this post-hunt adrenaline go before she did something stupid and embarrassed herself in front of the Winchesters, most importantly Dean.

They had had some sort of connection before the past two days, but even he had to admit they worked well together despite the overbearing protection crap he pulled. She was fairly certain Sam would have treated her different if they had been paired up to explore the building. He may not have liked her going solo either but he wasn't the one questioning her every move, tearing apart her every bit of research.

She shuddered at the thought of the destruction Dean had handed the wall when he had tried to reach her. She'd heard it after Holmes grabbed her and seen it while they were collecting their tools and gear after all was said and done and the cement was cooling. Dean had given her a half a smile as she whistled low at the sight, almost as if he'd been embarrassed at the ferocity of his reaction.

"Told your mom I'd bring you home safe," he explained as he picked up the sledge hammer, slinging it across his shoulder. Bravado covered his embarrassment as he slid his arms over each end of wooden handle. "I'd rather face 10 of Holmes than go back to your mom without you," he admitted. "Not after I promised."

"After you lied to her the first time she called you," she reminded him.

With a self-satisfied shrug, he had given her half a laugh as he walked past her toward their temporary apartment. "Minor details."

Jo scoffed. "She's eaten more charming men than you for breakfast, you know."

He turned to see if she was following him. "You think I'm charming?" he started, the smugness seeming to drip from his entire being. Before she could respond, a look of sudden realization flashed over Dean's face.

"Wait!" He stopped abruptly, turning to look back at her thoughtfully. "Your mom thinks I'm charming? Think I've got a chance there?" The tip of his tongue danced against his upper teeth as he grinned widely at Jo as he waggled - how cliche- his eyebrows.

Jo smiled at herself in the foggy mirror, shaking her head at the enigma that was Dean Winchester. She grabbed the shirt from the sink edge and and her smile disappeared as she shook it loose.

"Damnit! "she muttered exasperatedly as she took in exactly which shirt it was she'd picked up.

She heard the sound of glass against the door, and she realized after she jumped and squealed it was Dean's beer. "You alright?" he called, the knob on the door making a slight noise, as if he was about to turn it.

"YEAH!" She called hastily, pulled the well worn shirt over her head. "Stubbed my toe," she lied before grabbing her jeans off the floor. "Be out in second."

She heard him release the door handle and step back. "Alright. Food's getting cold."

Buttoning her jeans, she sighed at her reflection. Her grade school softball shirt glared back at her. She might as well put her hair in pigtails. She couldn't look anymore like she was just a kid.

Brushing her hair forward over her shoulders, letting it drape over her shirt as much as possible, she opened the door and padded out into the apartment in bare feet. She glanced at Dean seated in the lazy boy, shoveling some form of food from a white Chinese take out carton into his mouth with chopsticks. He smiled with his eyes as he stood up, slurping the noodles dangling from his lips into his mouth.

"I'm next," he crowed, plonking the box down on the table and taking a long drink from his beer. Jo smiled at him and grabbed her bag tight to her chest, heading for the bedroom. Standing with her back to the door, she stuffed her filthy clothes into one of the side pouches.

Once the bathroom door clicked shut and she heard the water start, along with what sounded like Dean singing, she dug through her bag for something else to wear, even though she knew there was nothing. She hadn't packed much. The few decent pieces she did pack she had worn during the hunt, and there was no way she was putting that back on. She was seriously considering burning the shirt, if she was honest with herself.

With a defeated purse of her lips, she zipped the bag shut and tossed it to the floor. Jo cheered a bit to Dean's gravely rendition of "Can't You See" while she opened the remaining cartons on the table. Finding one that suited her, she grabbed a pair of chopsticks, settling in the recliner with a pout. Turning on the seat, she settled her back half against one arm, half against the back and draped her legs across the opposite arm.

Gonna climb me a mountain, the highest mountain Jump off, nobody gonna know

Finally comfortable, she let her mind wander through the fields of memory and distraction as she dug into the beef and broccoli that smelled heavenly. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until the first bit of vegetable hit her lips. She couldn't even remember the last time she ate. Chewing carefully, she closed her eyes and followed her random thought pattern through an illogical jump that hopefully didn't lead her back to the dark cell in the basement.

I'm gonna find me a hole in the wall I gonna crawl inside and die Cause my lady now, mean ol' woman lord, never told me goodbye

Absently humming along with Dean, she tried to think back to the last time she had chinese. It certainly was not at the roadhouse, there was next to nothing outside of moonshine that could be labeled as "ethnic" in that part of Nebraska. Maybe it was when she did a run for her mom to Kansas City to pick up supplies that were on backorder from the company that usually delivered them.

Ride me a Southbound All the way to Georgia now Till the train run out of track

She had taken Ash, mostly for the company. They had talked about various cases she had heard other hunters talk about in the bar, and the cases Ash was currently working on. Hunters weren't well known for their technological prowess, so Ash had a fair amount of work to get through. He had tried to explain how he was tracking one creature through the backwoods of Montana, where it was picking off seemingly random number of cattle, but he had actually found the pattern to prove it wasn't as random as everyone else had thought.

Can't you see, oh can't you see What that woman, she been doin' to me

The two of them had stopped at a hole-in-the-wall place in a strip mall after loading up the truck with the cases of whiskey, tequila, and swizzle sticks. It had to be some of the best Chinese food Jo had ever eaten. Until Ash pointed out the amount of MSG it contained.

It was only when the bathroom door opened that she realized she hadn't heard the shower or singing in a while. Working to keep her jaw firmly in place, she watched Dean walk out into the main part of the apartment, dressed only in a pair of jeans, a towel draped over his naked shoulders. Jo swallowed hard against the warmth that filled her body at the sight of far more Dean than she'd ever experienced before, and tried to drag her traitorous eyes back to her lap where she half-ass stirred her chopsticks through her chosen food.

Dean's eyes narrowed momentarily at his usurped seat, but instead of commenting like Jo knew he would have with Sam, he simply tossed his towel to the side, picked up his food and continued inhaling it where he'd left off, opting to circling the room slowly rather than find another seat.

Several minutes of mutually silent eating later, Jo couldn't decide just how uncomfortable she really was. She'd had her fill of the take-out but couldn't come up with anything to say that didn't sound woefully juvenile or just plain stupid. She swung her legs to the floor nervously, hoping Dean didn't notice the red flush the swept over her face every time his wandering took him past her.

A dull pain echoed through her leg where she had tried to kick open her prison earlier. She knew there was going to be a bruise come tomorrow. Setting the container holding what was left of her dinner and chopsticks on the floor, she reached down to pull her pant leg up, searching for the red mark she knew was there.

"You al'ight?" Dean asked, stopping his continuous pacing to watch her, concern lacing his tone, even if he didn't take time to swallow his mouthful of noodles.

Following the bare feet up the jean clad legs to the equally bare stomach in front of her- where the hell is his shirt- Jo swallowed hard as she forced herself to look up at his face, certain he was trying to melt her brain. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. Just gonna have a bruise." She sat back and showed him, pointing her toe slightly as she stretched her leg out between them.

Spinning one of the chairs around from the table to face her, he set his own take out to the side and reached for her leg as he sat on the edge of the seat. She jerked slightly, not anticipating the feel of his rough hand on the back of her calf. He looked at her with a half a smirk. "Don't be a baby," he scolded, pulling her foot up for a closer look. The angle he held it made Jo lean back into the overstuffed chair, her hands gripping at the arms. Brushing one finger over the reddened skin, he nodded. "Looks like you'll live. Don't think we'll have to amputate."

Drawing her lip between her teeth, she could only nod, trying to come up with some sort of coherent response, but all she could think of was the unsettling heat that was spreading through her body his touch. It has been entirely too long since she had been touched by someone, much less a man who looked at her the way Dean could. She closed her eyes and turned her head away, hiding her face from his view with her hair.

"You sure you're okay, Jo?" Her foot fell back to the floor as he released it to lean forward, brushing hair back from her cheek.

She jerked from his touch again, trying to save herself the embarrassment of him seeing her reddened cheeks. There was too much post-hunt-I-might-not-have-lived-til-morning still running through her system, and she needed to find someway to release it. And the little voice in the back of her head was insisting Dean was just that right way.

"Hey, hey," he cooed softly, mistaking her jumpiness for something more to do with her recently experienced trauma in the sewer than what was actually on her brain. He grabbed her chin gently between his fingers, turning her toward him as he settled on his heels next to the chair. "You're safe no-"

No longer fighting him or herself, Jo's liquid chocolate eyes landed on his emerald ones, and Dean's breath caught in his throat. She didn't know what he was looking for in her eyes, but it seemed he found it as he turned his fingers to skim between her hair and her cheek, cupping her soft skin in his roughened palm. Jo closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. When she opened her eyes again, she found his freckled face a breath's width from her own. She watched her own hand float up his arm, skimming over his shoulder before coming to rest on his neck..

"Jo," he almost whispered, as if he was trying to warn her away. His face warred between hesitance and that hunger she thought she'd seen earlier.

Unable to stop herself, the blonde leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, laying gentle kisses to his parted mouth. Dean froze for a brief moment, his fingers tense against her cheek.

She wasn't sure who sighed first, but the tiny sound was all it took to set both their hands into motion, tangling into hair, grabbing hips and shoulders, drawing the other closer as their tongues met, sending sharp electricity through Jo's system.

#dean winchester fic #Dean Winchester #Jo harvelle fic #Jo Harvelle #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #angst #drama #family drama #no winsest #Sam Winchester #sam winchester fic #chestervelle

16 notes · View notes

eliemo · 3 years

Text

Something Long and Stupid

Summary: Remus knew he wasn't a good person. He was Deadpool, a killer for hire, "the merc with a mouth." He'd come to terms with what he was a long time ago. He didn't need Spiderman to remind him of what he was.

He didn't need Virgil to come into his life and make him question it for the first time

TWs: Violence, threats, strong language, blood

Notes: Superhero au, Spiderman Virgil, Deadpool Remus, enemies to lovers Dukexiety

New project that nobody asked for. I know I should finish my ongoing wips before starting a new one but I do not control the hyperfixation.

(Part 1) (Part 2)

When Virgil kicked Remus in the chest and sent him hurtling off the building into an active construction site, Remus found himself thinking about how they’d met.

Honestly, it hadn’t started off much better. Spiderman was a piece of shit who thought he was so much better than Remus just because Deadpool killed some people every now and then.

Well, that had been the first impression anyway. They hadn’t exactly started off on the right foot.

Remus had been doing his job, thank you very much, he was a mercenary for hire, it wasn’t like he’d been going after a gang of strangers for fun. And he certainly hadn’t needed help.

There were three of them and one of him, just some standard thugs that had been causing a bit too much trouble for people with more money to spend, their names already set to pay for Remus’s rent this month.

He’d unsheathed his swords, (guns would make it over too quickly, and what was the fun in that?) letting the assholes get their hopes up by grabbing for their own weapons and then—

Then all his targets were all suddenly covered in webs, firmly plastered to the nearest wall with threats and screaming that Remus ignored in favor of whirling around, slicing the air with his blades.

“Hey, what the fuck?”

Spiderman was half hanging off the wall, stepping back down onto the ground when he saw Remus staring. “You’re welcome,” he called, like Remus had asked for him to come in ruin is fun.

Remus scoffed, because rude. You don’t just steal someone’s kill like that. But at least they were immobilized now, which meant shooting them and getting the day over with would be a piece of cake. The webs weren’t budging no matter how frantically they kicked.

He yanked his gun from his belt to do exactly that, only to have another web (seriously, fucking spider webs had no business being this strong) wrapped around his wrist, another pulling the pistol right out of his hand.

“Uh, motherfucker?” Remus took a step back, furiously grabbing at the lingering webs with his bare hands, grimacing at the way it clung to his leather. “Jeez, you want me to decapitate them instead?”

“They’re already down,” the asshole said, like Remus hadn’t noticed. “Back off, Deadpool.”

Remus didn’t have time to be surprised that Spiderman knew who he was, far too busy wanting to run over and punch him right in his stupid masked face. “Ok, clearly you don’t know my deal. Move it, Webs.”

“Then you don’t know mine,” he said, masked eye staring blankly from underneath the hood over his suit. “I’m not letting you murder defenseless people.”

“They’re not fucking defenseless.”

“They’re not breaking free,” the spider said. “The cops will take whoever I capture for them. Call them and leave.”

Remus scoffed and tightened his hold on his sword, wondering if he really wanted to get into a fight with Spiderman in the middle of the afternoon. It was only fucking Tuesday, he was too tired to deal with this shit. “And they can take them in body bags. Give me my gun back.”

Remus was a good foot taller than him, and loaded with about three times as many weapons, but the masked asshole didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. God, he was probably smirking under his suit.

“I finished the fight, I get to decide.” He turned around, his back to Remus like he didn’t even care. “Maybe try to be faster next time.”

“Oh, fuck right off with that,” Remus snarled. “Fuck off. Fuck off and suck a fat dick, you fucking—”

“Either you walk away, or I leave you tied to the wall.”

“Kinky,” Remus smirked, even if Spiderman couldn’t see it under his own mask. “But fat fucking luck. No way in hell am I letting some bitch in black and purple spanx steal my kill.”

Spiderman actually had the audacity to sigh, like he was dealing with a petulant child. “Nobody’s getting killed.”

“You know, I’ve got more than one gun,” Remus said, mentally calculating how fast he’d have to move to shoot every single person in this alleyway. “I’m playing nice. Get out of my way.”

“You’re not shooting someone who can’t fight back.”

“Oh, are you the moral police?” Jesus, Remus wanted to punch this guy. “Man, fuck off. It’s none of your business.”

He grabbed for his other gun, only to immediately feel something wrap around his waist and legs, yanking hard and lifting him into the air. He shouted something he really hoped no pedestrians were close by enough to overhear, doing his absolute best to give Spiderman his coldest glare as he was slammed against the brick wall, upside down, held firmly down by fucking spider webs.

“Oh, you bitch.”

Remus twisted and thrashed, and while he could feel the webs giving way already it would be a good few minutes until he was free. That fucking asshole.

“Next time I see you I’m cutting off your spider ass and hanging it on my fucking wall!”

Spiderman ignored him, and Remus watched as he grabbed the thugs Remus was supposed to kill and one by one swung them out of the alleyway before disappearing completely.

That whore.

It hadn’t been long, unfortunately, until they’d met again, and Remus had of course tried to punch the asshole right in the head.

They’d ended up on the same rooftop, which was even worse because Remus came up here to relax. Spiderman had just been sitting there, legs dangling over the edge as he watched over the city, looking almost peaceful with his hood down and the sun beating against his mask.

So Remus had immediately vaulted over and swung at him as hard as he possibly could.

And then he’d missed, because of course Spidey had to have fucking inhuman reflexes, which was bullshit. He’d ducked away and managed to jump to Remus’s side before Remus even registered that his fist had met nothing but air.

“Can you leave?” Spiderman asked, so unbothered it only made Remus angrier. “I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Making sure people don’t get killed,” he said, moving back towards the ledge. “You should try it sometime.”

Remus crossed his arms, watching the vigilante in disbelief. “You get that I’m a mercenary, right? You’re surprised by the killing thing?”

“I’m not,” he said, and he still wouldn’t even look at Remus. “But I’m stopping it when I can.”

“Oh? So you’re ruining a small business?” Remus threw his arms out and turned towards the ledge overlooking the bustling city. “Spiderman doesn’t support small businesses, you heard it here first, folks!”

Spidey was staring at him now, and Remus had a sneaking suspicion he would not appreciate the look he was being given if the mask was taken off. Asshole.

“I don’t support killing people, Deadpool.”

“Sucks,” Remus said. “You should’ve stayed out of the way. If I wasn’t so kind and generous I would have shot you.”

“You mean if you hadn’t been tied up and defenseless,” Spiderman corrected, and Remus was right back to wanting to punch him. “You’re lucky I didn’t get you arrested.”

Remus dramatically put a hand to his chest and gasped, walking along the roof’s edge. “Oh no. What ever would I have done? I’d be defeated! My one weakness. C ops.”

Spidey didn’t respond, but he did get up and move away when Remus got a bit too close to where he was perched on the ledge. Ha .

“Maybe I should have called the cops on you, Spidey,” Remus added. “They’d finally catch the masked menace. Some jail time might humble you.”

“I’d be fine,” Spiderman said. “I wasn’t the one tied to a wall.”

Remus hopped back onto the roof with a growl, grimacing at the reminder of how long it had taken to get those webs off his suit. “Yeah, don’t do that shit again. Seriously, I can and will end you.”

“Get in line behind half the city, Deadpool.”

Remus scoffed, something he apparently did a lot of whenever talking to Spiderman, and followed him across the rooftop. “Man, your ratings are shit. At least I don't act like a hero.”

It was hard to see, barely noticeable, but Remus saw Spidey’s shoulders tense, just a bit. Apparently he’d struck a nerve. Good.

“I don’t act like anything,” he said, and it was just a little less cocky than before. “I’m just trying to help people.”

“Oh, so you’re playing hero.” Remus grinned, moving until he was crouched right in front of the vigilante. “Ooh ooh, let me guess...you’re in college. You’re ...22. Maybe 23, or 24. You got these big bad powers one day and figured you were the only one in the whole wide world who could protect the people who couldn’t protect themselves.”

Spidey didn’t answer, just looked at him with that blank, unamused stare, so Remus continued. “Or were you born with them? Doesn’t seem like it, you’ve only popped up in the last two or three years—”

“It’s none of your business,” Spiderman cut in, and Remus smirked. “And you’re wrong, for the record.”

“Oh I am, am I?” Remus asked, amused despite himself. “If nobody wants you, why are you even trying?”

Spidey was tense now, and doing a real bad job of hiding it. “Maybe I don’t give a shit what people think.”

“Right.” Remus didn’t need to see the guy’s face to know that wasn’t it. “You do realize how much money you could make with those powers, right?”

“I don’t care,” he said. “I’m fine doing what I’m doing.”

Remus looked him over, he’d seen spidey all over newspapers and on TV before, but this was the first time actually talking to him in person, besides the other day when the asshole had ruined his afternoon. Honestly, it was kinda underwhelming. He expected the suit to be higher tech, at least.

“Are you broke?” he asked. “You seem broke. I could make you a way better mask, by the way. It looks like shit.”

“I’m sure,” Spidey said, completely ignoring his generous offer. Rude. “And how much do you get paid for killing people?”

“A lot.”

Spiderman hummed nonchalantly, no longer looking at Remus. “Well, I’m glad it’s worth it.”

“It is! I sleep like a baby in my king sized bed.” And yeah, that was a little bit of a lie. Barely.. He wasn’t living that luxuriously, New York was expensive as shit, but based on his tech he was way better off than Webs.

“That’s wonderful,” Spiderman said and damn, apparently the masked menace was capable of being a sarcastic bastard as well as a cocky asshole. “You done pretending now? Can I go?”

“I’m not pretending anything.”

“Yeah, ok.” Spiderman was back to sounding arrogant, and Remus couldn’t remember why they were talking instead of fighting to the death. “I know you sleep like shit.”

Remus actually laughed, humorless and cold, because what the fuck?

“Oh yeah?”

“Nobody kills for a living if their life is going great,” Spidey said. “What horrible trauma pushed you to that decision?”

Oh, this motherfucker. This piece of shit. He was so dead when Remus could catch him off guard.

“Nobody puts on a costume and fights crime when half the city wants him dead if his life is going great, either.” Remus smirked, moving to try to get Spidey to look at him again. “At least I get money for it. No student loan debt at 26 is pretty nice.”

He probably shouldn’t have given the vigilante that was quickly turning into his sworn enemy his age but eh. What was he gonna do, kill him? Remus didn’t stay dead.

“That’s great,” Spiderman said. “And all it cost was people’s lives.”

“Yep!” Remus hoped it came out cheery enough to piss him off a little more. “Think of it this way, Spidey. They’re gonna die anyway.”

Spiderman immediately straightened up and stalked to the other end of the rooftop, clearly wanting the conversation to end. Mission accomplished. “Jesus Christ.”

“It’s true!” he called, just to drive home the fuck off a bit more. “Someone would have gotten to them eventually.”

“They’re still people, Deadpool.”

Remus shrugged. “Good people don't get hits put on them.”

“Maybe not,” the vigilante agreed. “But good people don’t murder in exchange for money, either.”

Remus barked another laugh at that, more genuine this time because... yeah? Duh. “No shit. I never fucking said I was a good person.”

“You’re lucky you haven't killed anyone innocent yet.” And goddammit there was that ‘hero’ shit again that made Remus want to throw up. He’d just been starting to have fun, too.

“It’s still not your business.”

“It will be,” Spidey said, perched on the ledge in a way that would make Remus dizzy if he cared. “Stick to killing criminals and we'll be fine.”

“Oh?” Remus followed, smirking in a way that would probably get him punched if he took off his mask. “Are you gonna come get me if I’m not good?”

“That’s my job.”

“Aw, don’t worry,” Remus teased. “I’ll wear something sexy for you.”

“Gross.”

“Love you too, Spider Babe!”

Spidey scoffed, responding with a gloved middle finger when Remus winked. Remus watched a web shoot from his wrist, and suddenly Spiderman was gone, swinging across New York rooftops, leaving Remus to try to figure out how he was getting down.

Remus honestly hadn’t expected to see him again. He was fucked in the head, but he didn’t have any plans to lose control and start killing everyone in sight. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t a villain Spiderman needed to spend time tracking down. New York was busy enough for both of them already.

He did plan on chucking the nearest heavy object at him if he ever saw Spidey swinging past. That never ended up happening. Not that he cared. He didn’t miss him.

He expected to catch a glimpse of him eventually, maybe close enough to yell a few lighthearted threats or call him names, but nothing as entertaining as the argument on the roof.

What he hadn’t expected, was to run right into the masked menace while walking home in the middle of the night.

Remus had just finished a job, something standard and quick, and after wiping the blood from his blades he’d decided to take the long way home. The sun had set, the night air was crisp and relaxing, and it helped Remus forget about the blood stains he needed to wash away.

He’d been cutting through sidestreets, mentally mapping out how to get back to his place. He turned a corner into an alleyway, and—

And there was Spiderman, hunched over himself and leaned against the wall like he’d been using it for support, shaking, gasping, and completely drenched in deep red blood.

Remus froze, and Spidey did too as soon as he registered Deadpool standing just a few paces away, the two of them staring silently for what felt like an eternity.

“Dude,” Remus said when he found his voice. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Spiderman was clutching at his chest, black and purple suit barely able to hide the red stains, leaned heavily against the brick wall as he watched Remus warily. “Nothing.”

“Don’t be stupid. Whose blood is that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he snapped, and his voice was wavering. “Keep walking.”

Remus took a step forward, frowning at the way the vigilante went tense against the wall. He ignored it. “Whose blood is it?” It came out more of a command than a question this time.

“Mostly mine,” Spiderman said, and Remus could see it pooling around his gloves now that he was closer. “It’s fine.”

“Why’re you bleeding?”

“None of your business. Go home.”

Remus tried to get a better look from where he stood, well aware that approaching might not be the best idea right now. “Was it a gun or a knife?”

“It was none of your business and you need to go away.”

Remus watched him, incredulous, because the idiot was barely standing and losing way too much blood way too quickly, and he was pretty sure Spiderman didn’t have Remus’s whole immortality deal.

“You really want to bleed out on the street like some street thug?”

The vigilante hesitated, and Remus listened to the way his breathing was turning into awful sounding wheezes. “I’m...not going to bleed out. I’m fine.”

“Oh, yeah?” Remus challenged, probably a bit more aggressively than was needed for someone who looked like they were about to keel over. “Walk over to me then.”

He’d expected the lack of response, but even though the eyes built into the suit were practically lifeless (he really should get him some more advanced goggles. He’d be a lot more approachable if his eyes weren’t so blank) Remus could still see his whole body tense in fear.

“No,” he said, low and trembling. “Fuck off.”

“Spidey, this isn’t a joke.” Jesus, that was a lot of blood. “You’re gonna bleed out.”

“And you can throw a party—”

“Fucking come here.” He hadn’t meant to snap, but he wasn’t going to just stand here bickering with the city’s hero until he dropped dead. But Spidey still shook his head, pressed even further against the wall now, and Remus sighed. “Fine.”

Remus took a few steps forward, initially planning on prying his arms away to get a better look at the wound, but Spiderman flinched back, trying to scramble away like Remus was coming at him with a weapon.

Well, Remus supposed that made sense. He had threatened to kill him a couple times last time they spoke.

“Chill it, Spidey.” Remus crouched a bit, suddenly painfully aware of how much taller he was, carefully holding his hands out. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I don’t believe you,” he shot back. Which...yeah, fair. “I know you want to.”

“Does it look like I have a knife in my hand?” Remus asked. “No. Chill out and let me see.”

Spidey didn’t pull away when Remus took his shoulders, but he did flinch as soon as Deadpool touched him, probably involuntarily. Remus ignored it, focusing instead on figuring out where the blood was coming from. It was almost impossible in the dark lighting, especially up against the black suit.

“It’s...not that bad,” Spiderman rasped. “Seriously.”

Remus wasn’t buying that for a second. “What happened?”

“I was stupid, that’s what happened,” Spidey said, arms still wrapped firmly around himself. “It...there were five of them and one of them got lucky with a knife.”

“Jesus, fuck.” Remus pulled back, trying to figure out what to do. “You are stupid. Where?”

He only hesitated a moment. “Uh, my chest. I heal fast.”

“Jesus. How fast?”

Spiderman shrugged, then obviously regretted it when it pulled at the stab wound. “Hopefully fast enough,” he said. “I’ll be fine tomorrow or I’ll be dead.”

“Jesus,” Remus said again, because what the fuck else was he supposed to say? “Sit down. Jesus Christ.”

Spidey thankfully did as he said, though Remus suspected it had more to do with the fact that he couldn’t keep himself standing anymore rather than actually following instructions.

He wasn’t fighting anymore, almost limp as Remus took his wrists and moved them to his sides, but he did look like he was ready to bolt the second Deadpool made one wrong move.

Like he wouldn’t fall right on his face and hurt himself worse if he tried.

Remus could see the source of the blood now, a deep gash across his upper chest that had apparently sliced the black and purple suit like butter, still gushing crimson with each passing second.

Shit.

“Alright, uh.” This wasn’t his expertise in the slightest. Other than digging out some bullets, Remus didn't have to tend to his wounds. “I don’t think I have any fabric or...oh, your hoodie. Hand it over.”

Spiderman stared, and if he didn’t hurry up and get with the program Remus was going to knock him out and handle this himself. “Why?”

“Because you’re bleeding out. Give it.”

Spidey at least had the sense to listen and carefully peel the hoodie away from his suit, sliding it down his arms even as his gloved hands shook violently. Remus couldn’t help but wince at the noise Spiderman tried to choke back, because that had to hurt like a bitch.

“Maybe, like...lay down?” Remus suggested. “Yeah, do that. It’ll help.”

Spidey still hesitated, even as the blood continued to flow and he started to slide down against his will. “I...need to see what you’re doing.”

Remus sighed, bunching up the hoodie and pressing it firmly against the wound, ignoring the strangled gasp that came from the vigilante. Blood was quickly soaking through the cloth, and Remus just pressed harder.

“I’m just putting pressure on it to stop the bleeding,” Remus said. “If I wanted to kill you I’d leave you here. If it stops bleeding you’ll heal, right?”

The only answer he got was another wet, trembling gasp when Remus pushed harder, Spiderman’s blood soaking into his gloves. It took a second for him to realize he was grasping at Remus’s wrists, his hold weak.

“H-hopefully,” Spidey managed, and he really didn’t sound great. His eyes were drooping, and Remus figured the biggest danger right now was letting him fall asleep. “Or, you know. I’ll die.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Remus said without thinking. “I’m gonna stop the bleeding, you’re gonna heal with whatever weird powers you have, and then you’ll be less of a careless idiot next time.”

A few moments passed without an answer, and for once Remus wasn’t entirely sure how to fill the silence. The only sound between them was Spiderman’s labored, ragged breathing, which at least sounded a bit less shaky and faint as Remus continued to press down.

“What are you doing?” Spidey asked eventually, catching Remus completely off guard with the stupid question. “Why are you...trying to help?”

Remus wasn’t trying to do anything. He was helping. The city’s beloved hero would have been dead five minutes ago if he hadn’t managed to interrupt Remus’s perfectly nice, peaceful walk.

He hadn’t even really thought about it. Remus was an asshole, a murderer for a living, but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t the guy who was going to leave New York’s savior to bleed out in an alleyway.

Besides, he’d been the first person Remus had been able to have a somewhat entertaining conversation with in months.

“Somebody’s gotta save everyone,” he eventually settled on, still pressing hard against the wound. “And I refuse to be the city’s only mouthy vigilante.”

Another beat of silence, and for a moment Remus thought he might have fallen asleep. “I don’t...save anyone. And I’m not mouthy.”

“You do,” Remus argued. “And you are.”

“I don’t,” he snapped, and at least he didn’t seem inclined to argue about the mouthy thing. “You do your job better than I do.”

Remus took a moment to look over the bleeding hero. He was weak and trembling, and probably dangerously pale and clammy under that suit. The blood flow had definitely slowed, but it hadn't stopped. There was a good chance he wouldn’t remember a damn thing Remus said to him tonight.

And if he did, it’s not like he really gave a shit, anyway.

“I’m a mercenary,” Remus said. “Anyone can kill someone. It takes something a lot stronger to save them. So shut up and stop being self deprecating.”

Spiderman shuddered when Remus carefully peeled back the bloody hoodie, leaning in to get a better look at where they were at. Either he was just that good at fixing stab wounds, or Spidey’s healing powers were gradually starting to kick in.

Remus decided to go with the former. He deserved it.

“I got someone killed tonight,” Spidey said, quiet and unbearably sad. “She...she died because I wasn’t fast enough, and I didn’t—”

“You can’t save everyone.”

The vigilante pulled his hands away from Remus’s wrists, like he’d just realized he was holding them. “I should have tried harder.”

Remus sighed. “You tried hard enough. You did fine.”

That was apparently the end of the conversation, Spiderman falling back into silence as Remus went back to making sure he didn’t start bleeding all over the place again. He didn’t have anything on him to properly clean it up, he wasn’t sure he even owned a first-aid kit, but Spidey’s breathing was starting to even out, and after about ten minutes or so the blood stopped flowing completely.

“You, uh...you good?”

“I’ll be fine,” Spiderman said, and it didn’t sound like a desperate lie this time. He still looked like shit, but he was able to slowly sit up on his own. “Not dying this time. Just...still hurts.”

They were plunged back into silence, slightly less tense than before but no less uncomfortable. Remus eventually relinquished his hold on the hoodie when Spidey was able to carefully take it from him.

Right, he was fine now. Remus didn’t need to stay, it wasn’t his business anymore. It hadn’t been his business to begin with.

“I...owe you,” Spiderman said, almost like it was strange for him to admit. “So, thank y—”

“Don’t thank me, Spidey.” God, this had been a mistake, hadn’t it? “Seriously. Just buy me a pizza sometime and we’ll call it square.”

Spiderman stared for second, unsteady hands holding his own hood to his chest, but the small laugh that escaped at least sounded genuine, and no longer quite so pained.

“Ok,” he said. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Remus hesitated before standing, not really sure if it would be more rude to leave or stay at this point. Spiderman probably didn’t want a mercenary for hire standing over him while he was wounded, whether Remus had saved his life or not.

Remus was still just as far from a hero as the villains Spiderman fought, and both of them had a reputation to keep.

“You sure you’re ok?” Remus asked. “I can like...stay. Or call you an ambulance or...something.”

“I’m good,” Spidey said, sitting up with a small hiss of pain until he was propped up against the wall, breathing still heavy. “You stopped the bleeding, I’ll live. You can go home, Deadpool.”

“Right.” He carefully stepped around the vigilante, still keeping a close eye on his chest to make sure the bleeding didn’t start again. “Just don’t die after all my hard work. My gloves are fucking soaked.”

Spiderman scoffed, but it was more good natured and light than it had been the last time they talked. “You got it.”

Remus kept walking down the alley, only turning around once more before turning the corner at the end. “And don’t forget my pizza, Spidey!”

#spiderman virgil #deadpool remus #superhero au #spiderman au #spideypool #dukexiety #virgil sanders #remus sanders #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends #violence tw #sex jokes #remus being remus #blood tw #injury #sanders sides #fanfiction #writing

198 notes · View notes

night-triumphantt · 3 years

Note

hello please tell us everything you can about ms naila i already would like to ask for her hand in marriage <3

Anon you have truly no idea how happy you have made me just now, here’s another WIP just for u and then some facts abt her under the cut

In this world, people are chosen by the gods for reasons that are, a bit unclear. Many when chosen, end up going to train with others like them in the order. There they learn about their gods, as well as how to use their magic.

Naila is one of those people, she was chosen by the goddess of shadows, Leila

She grew up and would have trained with MC (relationship up to u, friends, rivals, just sorta grew up together, & of course, feelings/a crush could be added to any of those, even if u have a sort of rivalry/frenemies thing going on)

She can and will kick your ass

She secretly has a very good sense of humor

She’s got a competitive streak

She has a giant shadow wolf who’s name in Arabic translates to shadow (loll she’s very creative)

She very much believes in the gods, and how they keep balance in the world

She would probably be considered lawful good

She got that scar very young, and it’s story is part of why she believes so strongly in the gods, it is something she doesn’t talk about

Again u have seriously made my entire day, cannot stress that enough

#WIP #my art #triumphantt asks #triumphantt art #night talks #Of the Gods IF #that’s what I think I’m gonna call it #ask me more #there are two more ROs so far #more to come #oc: naila #I have so many OCs with N names lolll #it’s ok #idc

46 notes · View notes

ofallthingsnasty · 2 years

Note

bad and good stuff is okay! no limits. i'm that desperate fndjfjsufjjsfjjsf. i hope you're having a delicious dinner first and foremost though!

Oh no anon 😭💞 I get it though, the tags on here and ao3 are empty nowadays 🥺 Our poor baby, he's all alone... I still have a lot of prompts for my milestone character interaction event I have to fill for him!! - and some requests, too 😭 I need to get my ass going instead of re-reading that arc over and over for those precious few Sir panels 😂🤦‍♀️

tw.piss, physical abuse, death mention?, minors dni

So we talked a lot about (yandere) Overhaul with a spouse!/hybrid!reader - but my very first wip with him was just a subordinate!reader 😆 Not everyone's cup of tea, but all abuse and no love Overhaul is something I personally love! I don't know if I'll ever finish it, so let me share my thoughts for that one - and I hope it's enough of a crumb to tide you over for today 😂

I love the thought of you having something of a habit he sees as dirty - nail biting for example (I bite and do it... pretty much compulsory 🙃) - like c'mon, you sticking you fingers into your dirty mouth (do you know just how filthy mouths are?) and getting saliva all over them - oh god no. You'd be smart not to do it in front of him, seriously. But you know, he's not an easy boss - one look from those golden eyes could keep anyone on edge. It's really only a question of 'when' a little mishap is going to happen...

And because you're just a disgusting little pig, further sullying you is nothing. Very much the type to piss all over you to really show you just how low you and your actions are, then kicking the shit out of you for being so repulsive. He'll make you lick his shoes clean and then wipes the soles with your hair before forcing you to clean the floor with your tongue.

Oh, and that's obviously the merciful route. The next time he catches you biting, he'll kill you on the spot (◕ᴗ◕✿)

#ask #anon #tw.piss #tw.death #mention that is #tw.nail biting #really... i love terrible overhaul....#so thanks for letting me talk about this haha #/overhaul

18 notes · View notes

fangqueen · 3 years

Note

#3 What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Fun Meta Asks for Writers

Adding the link to the ask game at the start this time, 'cause this is gonna be a long one, y'all. 😂

Where do I even begin? First of all, @angie-leena, thank you so SO much for sending me this ask! It was the kick in the ass I needed to get me to actually write this scene, and for that I’m extremely grateful. I still don’t know if I’m entirely happy with the finished product, but it exists now, and that’s something.

So some of you may remember (if anyone actually follows my ramblings, haha!) that I’ve been simultaneously complaining about and obsessing over this gigantic WIP I’ve had since fucking March 2019. Nearly two and a half years have passed since I put the first word to paper, and oh how I’ve loved to cry out in frustration about how I have about 12k written on the stupid thing and yet not a single scene finished.

AT LEAST

NOT UNTIL TODAY

YES, I’VE DONE IT. I’ve finished a scene on this amazing, wonderful, and incredibly stupid WIP, and I could just cry.

FYI for anyone who doesn’t know what the fuck I’m talking about (which I’m sure is everyone, ‘cause I don’t expect anybody to remember this insane thing I’ve been shouting about all this time, LOL): this is the Slytherin My Gryffindor WIP. Yes, that is a working title. 😅 I will find a better one.....some day.......Ron/Draco is the main pair, but there will also be plenty of others sprinkled in the background.

Anyway, about this ask and that context I haven’t been arsed to write yet...

Context required in order to understand this scene 😂:

Fred Lives AU

The Muggle world and the Wixen world has kind of mixed in recent years, and it’s very common for magical people to be using Muggle technology

The Weasley twins have opened a second shop in Diagon Alley...selling sex toys (yes, really)

Their first original product line issssssss..........dildoes shaped like the Weasley brothers’ own dicks (and a fleshlight kind of thing for Ginny)

Yes this is crack!fic (but, like, also not???)

Ron has been made general manager of the shop and is there all the time, as they’re incredibly busy

Draco wants 👏 that 👏 D 👏, but is worried about Ron finding out, so keeps coming into the shop randomly hoping he won’t be there (and of course he always is)

Eventually there’s a day where Ron’s in the backroom, Charlie’s visiting and helping out at the register, and when Ron emerges, Charlie informs him that Draco Malfoy has just run in and bought Ron’s dildo

Cue Ron being incredibly turned on by this notion

So that pretty much brings us up-to-speed for this scene - it’s been a few days now, and Ron’s been trying to figure out a way to contact Draco to talk to him about the whole thing, since they never became friends or anything after the war and don’t regularly talk unless they’re just seeing each other around

The fic is meant to touch on, like...fame in the aftermath of the war (i.e. why anyone would be interested in sex toys modelled after the Weasley siblings in the first place)

Ron has evolved from his teenage self and grown to hate the fame - it prevents him from being able to date, because the press can never let him keep anything private

After this scene, the fic will focus on Ron and Draco developing a sexual - and eventually romantic - relationship (originally under the guise of “testing out” other products from the shop together)

They will try their best to keep their relationship a secret, but, like...everyone knows 😘😘😘

Also Draco is a model in this one (not important for this scene, but just thought you might want to know 😂)

In addition, some warnings/content to make note of before reading:

NC-17 (smut incoming!)

Technology circa 2005

Phone sex

Semi-public sex

Sex toys

Both Ron and Draco are a little drunk (but very consenting!)

Crack taken way too seriously

Of course, this hasn't been betaed or Britpicked, so I apologize for how very rough it is right now, lol. It will likely be a little (or a lot!) different if I ever actually finish this whole fucking fic and post it later on. I am treating this scene like a “sneak peek” of the fic, because I definitely do still want to try to finish it someday...

HOLY SHIT, I had a LOT more to say about it than I thought. 😅 So anyway. Scene under the cut.

Friday night at the Dragon's Head was packed. It took a bit of initiative, but Ron, Seamus, and Dean finally managed to snag them all a table in the back corner, hoarding the extra seats till Harry and Neville finally arrived, trailed closely by Ginny and Parkinson ― who were curiously short one blond wizard.

Ron tried not to think about it. He bought the first round with Harry, listening to him chat about the recent Puddlemere match against the Magpies. They ordered nibbles for the table. Ron munched on chips, his heart skipping every time the door opened across the room and another few patrons trickled in.

He was on his third pint of the evening when he started getting antsy. He sipped his Simison, using the light smoke curling around the rim of the glass to discreetly glance around the pub, hoping to spot a familiar head of blond hair in the crowd. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor.

"Is he coming, then?"

Ron's head snapped to attention. Ginny checked the door as well before turning back to Parkinson.

"Who?" Neville asked, snagging a vinegar-soaked chip from the bowl in the center of the table.

"Malfoy," Ginny said, craning her neck to see her girlfriend's screen.

Parkinson tapped away on her mobile, shaking her head. "No. Says he's already curled up with a bottle of wine and a good book, and doesn't fancy getting all done up."

Fucking hell. Ron drained the dregs at the bottom of his glass. It wasn't often Malfoy joined them on a mostly-Gryffindor outing ― not unless Parkinson could convince him. Somehow, Ron felt he should've known it wouldn't be in the cards tonight. Conversation pivoted again, and Ron ran his fingers up the sides of his empty pint, thinking.

At some point, Seamus and Harry set off to get another round, and Ginny hurried away with them after a quick peck to Parkinson's cheek. Neville and Dean had gotten into a chat about proper Mimbulus mimbletonia care, and Ron saw his chance. He could feel his heart start to thud in his chest as he cleared his throat, raising his voice to catch her attention.

"Parkinson?"

She turned back from watching Ginny leave, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yes?"

"Think you could give me Malfoy's number?"

The smirk she gave him in response made his hands shake a little as they drummed against the tabletop.

"Whatever for?"

Ron stared her down, knowing full well any excuse he told her would never be enough. Parkinson's expression was predatory ― as if she already knew the answer anyway. He waited for her to comment, bracing himself.

To his surprise, she instead dug her mobile back out of her handbag.

She turned the screen towards him, and he typed the number directly into the dialer on his phone. He waited a few minutes until everyone ― Parkinson included ― had moved on to other things and forgotten about him, and then slipped from the table.

Ron shouldered his way through the crowd to the loo, pushing inside and locking the door behind him. It was a small room, hardly bigger than a broom closet. There was a toilet and a sink, a grimy mirror hanging above it, and a dim ceiling lamp that barely lit the space.

Ron backed up to one side of the room and slumped against the wall. He gripped the phone in clammy hands. Those pints had picked a perfect moment to hit him all at once. Ron blinked away the creeping dizziness, staring down at the numbers glowing dauntingly on the tiny screen. He'd been unable to get it out of his mind for days ― the image of Malfoy riding his dildo ― and now that he had a way to contact him, he was frozen. The leaky faucet dripped, the sound maddening as it mingled with the rush of blood in his ears. This was stupid. This was so bloody stupid.

He hit call.

Ron held his breath, cupping the phone to his ear. The line rang and rang, until he started to realize he didn't have a plan B. What if Malfoy didn't answer? What if he had to leave a voicemail? What would he even say? He should've just texted him, damn it.

Then, suddenly, the ringing stopped. There was rustling and a mumbled, "Bloody useless thing." Then, louder, "Yes?"

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, this is ― Weasley?"

Malfoy sounded surprised. Ron breathed out gradually, his heartbeat slowing with it. Malfoy's voice was clear and present on the other end. No looking back. He tried to think of something to say, and only came up with one thing.

"Haven't seen you round the shop yet this week."

"Don't tell me that's really why you called." Malfoy sighed, trying to sound put-upon, but Ron could hear the hint of nerves underneath. "If you must know, that would be because I found what I'd been looking for."

"I know."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. For a moment, Ron thought Malfoy might hang up. But then he cursed quietly. "Damn that brother of yours. Incorrigible."

So it really was true. Charlie hadn't just been taking the piss. Ron felt a warmth flare up in his belly, spreading down to the tops of his thighs.

"Try growing up with him. And the twins? Now that's a real nightmare."

"I was trying for discreet, but you were always there."

Ron leaned further back against the wall, staring up at the dark ceiling above. He thought of all those times Malfoy had dropped in at the shop, only to hurry out again if Ron ever came too close. Malfoy had jumped at the chance when Ron had been called away to the back that day.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Well. You know. So what, then? Looking to mock me for it?"

"You always assume the worst with me. Why is that?" Although Ron couldn't exactly blame him. He hadn't given Malfoy much else to go on in years past. Neither of them had. "No. No, I was calling because…" Why had he been calling? It had seemed such a natural thing when he'd asked Parkinson for Malfoy's number not five minutes ago. "I was curious. If there was, er." He waved his free hand, searching for the words. Nothing sounded right. "Any particular reason for it."

Malfoy laughed ― a short bark of a sound. "I mean, obviously yes. It's a sex toy, Weasley."

Ron snorted, taken aback. "That's not ―"

"Actually, I thought it'd make a nice statement in the middle of my dining table. It would be an excellent conversation piece for dinner parties."

"For fuck's sake, Malfoy, I didn't ―"

A chuckle rumbled through from the other end of the line. There was that snark again. Merlin, it made Ron hot, his skin blooming from his collar up to his ears. He chewed his lip, pulling back the grin that threatened to spread across his face.

"I only meant ― was there a reason? That you'd picked mine?"

The line suddenly went quiet. Ron had to check his phone just to make sure the call hadn't dropped.

When Malfoy finally replied, his voice was soft, uncertain. "What would possess you to call and ask me that?"

Ron breathed in slowly, his hand tapping an incoherent rhythm on his thigh. "Well, I'm a bit pissed, to be honest," he admitted, still feeling the slight burn the Simison had left in his throat.

Malfoy didn't say anything more at first. The lamp above buzzed as the faucet continued to drip. Ron could hear the noise from the pub pressing up against the other side of the door.

Then, Malfoy said, "Maybe there was."

Ron felt his heart jump into his throat. "Was what?"

"A reason why I bought it," Malfoy said slowly, deliberately. "Figure it out, Weasel."

Oh, bloody hell. Ron took a shaky breath. Every nerve felt like it was on fire.

"And...how was it?" Ron heard himself ask as if from very far away.

Even over the din of the music beyond the bathroom door, he could hear Malfoy swallow. "It was good."

"Oh, ta." Ron chuckled despite himself.

"No, I mean...Bugger." It was nice hearing Malfoy so flustered. A rare occurrence, and one that the little fluttering pixie in Ron's stomach very much wanted to repeat. "It was brilliant, alright? Happy?"

Brilliant. The word tingled down Ron's spine. For some reason, he couldn't wipe the smile from his face. Bloody hell, was this really happening? He thought of fleeting insults thrown in the school corridors all those years ago ― then he thought of a night just a few months ago, the look in Malfoy's eyes as Ron told him about the shop.

"You wrote a song about me once, if I remember correctly," Ron said, feeling deliriously happy.

"I suppose I did." Malfoy sighed.

Ron's eyes flicked to the door, to the noise of the crowd beyond. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

"Oh, please, Weasley," Malfoy said bitterly. "Pick a reason."

"I know, but ―" Ron tried to argue, but Malfoy cut him off.

"You don't owe me anything. It would be incredibly unfair for me to expect you to be interested in return."

Ron supposed that was fair enough. He'd had similar feelings towards Malfoy until very recently.

"I would be, though. I mean ― I am."

Saying the words out loud gave them a weight Ron hadn't felt before. He let them roll off his tongue, flattened the tip of it along his lips as he thought about flashes of icy blond hair, high cheekbones, and long fingers swirling around the rim of a glass. He thought of the moment he'd finally realized Malfoy had been looking back.

"Oh." Malfoy paused, seeming surprised by that revelation. "Good to know."

Malfoy fidgeted. Ron listened intently, hearing the breath he released and the scrape of his fingers against his mobile.

"You wouldn't ― ah." Malfoy caught himself, and Ron waited for him to continue, his ears ringing. "Would you want to…?" Malfoy trailed off, finishing his thought with a scoff.

"Would I want to what ― oh."

Oh.

Ron swallowed hard. He wanted to believe Malfoy was asking him what he thought he was asking him, but even after everything, it was almost too good to be true. The long stretch of awkward silence on the other end told him he was right, though, and that made him jittery, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

"I could be reading too much into this," Malfoy muttered.

"No, no, definitely not. I mean." Ron licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling far too dry. "I just don't want you to think I expect this."

Malfoy made a sound, and Ron could practically feel him rolling his eyes on the other end of the line.

"Oh, so you don't ring up every person who buys a model of your cock and ask them how they enjoyed it?"

"What? No, of course not!" Ron stopped, realizing, and laughed at himself. "You're joking. That was a joke."

"Terribly clever, this one."

A sudden jiggling of the door handle made Ron jump, almost dropping his mobile in the process.

"Occupied!"

He fumbled with the phone, his heart thudding wildly. When he put it back to his ear, Malfoy was laughing. The sound made Ron feel weak in the knees.

"Where are you?" Malfoy asked, still snickering.

"In the loo at the Dragon's Head."

"Oh, of course." Malfoy sucked his teeth contemplatively. "Hang on. Is there anyone in there with you?"

Another frustrated turn of the door handle.

"It's a single."

"Good." Malfoy lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Do you want me to use it?"

Ron pressed his hand flat against the door, waiting until he heard the bloke give a huff and storm off. "Use what?"

"Your dildo, Weasley."

The silken drawl of Malfoy's voice spread like gooseflesh across Ron's skin. "Right now?" he asked incredulously, although he was already half hard at the thought.

"I could give you an exclusive product review. Unless you don't want to."

"No, I do!" Ron replied quickly, and Malfoy laughed again, making him blush.

"Eager, are we?"

"Yes." Ron passed a hand over his face, trying to laugh as well, but it came out shaky. Merlin, it had been all he could think about for the past few days. Still, he'd never imagined Malfoy would offer it outright. "Just didn't take you for the phone sex type."

Malfoy hummed. "You caught me in a randy mood. Now how do I ― ah, right."

Ron assumed he'd been put on speakerphone, as there was now an echo. He dug out his wand for a moment and cast a quick Silencio on the bathroom. It was a wonder how he had the brain power to spare, when all the blood in his body was suddenly rushing to his cock. He could hear Malfoy fumbling for something on the other end.

"Where are you?" Ron asked in return, trying to distract himself from the heady thrum of anticipation.

"In bed. Naked," Malfoy added with a hint of a smirk in his voice. Ron groaned, shutting his eyes against the image of Malfoy stretched out on soft sheets, hard and waiting for him. Merlin, had he been naked the whole time they were talking? Ron pressed the heel of his palm to the crotch of his jeans.

Malfoy went silent for a moment, until there was a faint intake of breath. His bed creaked distantly in the background.

Ron licked his lips, cupping his hand around the solid, hot line of his cock under his trousers. "Are you prepping yourself?"

"Of course." Malfoy breathed out steadily, the bed creaking again. "You're bigger than I thought you'd be. Although I'd always wondered."

Fucking hell. Ron arched against his hand. Was he really going to get his cock out in a pub toilet? The last shred of his resolve melted away when he heard Malfoy moan, low and guttural, a sound that shot straight through Ron, all the way to his toes. He imagined Malfoy laying back, his knees bent up, and slick fingers down between his legs, pressing in and out of his puckered hole. Ron was switching the phone to his left hand before he could give it a second thought. He flicked open the button on his jeans and pushed his pants down to hook under his balls, taking himself in hand.

Ron rolled his hand down over his length. Malfoy's breath hitched, and he cursed, the bed shifting with him. Ron caught his lip between his teeth, wondering how many fingers he had in him. He imagined himself leaning over Malfoy on the bed, licking a hot stripe along his neck as his hand worked him open, his thighs falling open as he settled between them.

"Fuck, I needed this," Malfoy breathed. Ron moaned, pulling his foreskin back and rubbing over the weeping head of his cock.

Malfoy muttered a Cleansing charm, and then a drawer was pulled roughly open nearby. Ron heard Malfoy pick up the phone, moving and setting it down again as he bounced on the bed, adjusting himself.

"Are you ―?" Ron wanted to ask, but he couldn't finish the thought, left hand gripping the phone hard as he tried to steady himself.

"Yes, gods."

Ron paused, listening as Malfoy shifted and panted on the other end. He didn't have to ask when it was fully in. He knew the moment Malfoy's breath faltered, the gasp he gave sending shivers down Ron's spine.

Malfoy huffed, the sound so loud to Ron's ears as the whole world funneled down to a point, to this moment as he listened to Malfoy move the toy inside of himself. He moaned, and Ron thought he could hear the squelch of lube on the other end of the line as it entered him.

"Talk to me, Weasley."

Malfoy sounded wrecked. It was enough to make Ron's toes curl just to hear it. It was almost too much to handle ― the idea of Draco Malfoy being thoroughly fucked out by a dildo modelled after Ron's own cock. Ron's head thunked back against the wall. His hand trembled a little as he began stroking himself again.

"Get on your knees for me," he said softly.

Malfoy swore. Ron heard him flip over, his panting breaths suddenly closer to the receiver. In his mind, he could see Malfoy bent over the bed, arse in the air and cheek pressed against the mattress, lips rosy and parted. He imagined himself knelt behind Malfoy, hands gripping his slender hips.

"There's, uh." Ron swallowed. "There's a self-shagging feature. If you want. The spell's ―"

"Oh, we're well acquainted."

"Fuck," Ron moaned. No way he was going to last like this. He rocked his hips, thrusting into the tight circle of his fist. Malfoy sounded like he was trying to collect himself, even as his voice broke on the last word. Ron couldn't begin to explain why that aroused him so much, but he didn't care, already speeding up his hand as it flew over his cock.

Malfoy cast the spell, and Ron felt his cry as the toy began to move on its own. The bed gave a jolt under Malfoy's weight. He gasped again, and Ron heard his fingers scrambling across the sheets.

Ron could almost see it. He imagined Malfoy's bowed back, his knees slipping and spreading apart, his toes curling. The bed creaked with each movement. A dildo of Ron's own making, Malfoy arching back onto it as it fucked him down onto the mattress. Merlin, he should've known Malfoy would take it so well, his eyes rolling back as he listened to the sounds Malfoy made as it thrust into him.

Ron closed his eyes and felt like he was sitting in the room, watching the whole show, watching a copy of his cock pound into Malfoy again and again. The pub outside the bathroom door fell away from him, and all he could focus on was Malfoy's voice and his hand on his own cock.

"Tell me how it feels," Ron choked out, wanting to hear it, see it, touch it, to watch Malfoy unravel under Ron's hands and cock, to capture each cry with his tongue.

Malfoy groaned. "So ― good ―"

"Tell me," Ron rasped again, thrusting his hips forward into his hand. "Tell me ― ah ― how good it is."

"It's so ―" Malfoy cried out, his hands skittering over the sheets. "So good ― so big ― I ―"

"Fucking hell, Malfoy."

At that point, Ron didn't know if he wanted to be watching the toy fuck Malfoy or if he wanted to take over for it. Was he really getting jealous of a dildo? He wished he was there. He wanted to tell Malfoy as much, but he couldn't manage it, instead moaning loudly as he felt his balls begin to draw up against him.

"Fuck, Weasley, you're gonna make me come," Malfoy whined, his posh accent slipping.

Holy shit, and that was what did it. Ron made a gut-punched sound, his wrist flicking over the head of his cock. He was coming almost before he'd even realized. He barely had the presence of mind to do anything about it before the first spurt had dribbled onto the floor. He pushed off the wall and lent forward, pumping the remainder into the sink. He heard Malfoy swear, and Ron slumped back against the wall again, listening as he came apart with a shuddering cry.

The line went quiet once more. Ron rested his head on the tiles behind him, closing his eyes, holding his softening cock. For a long time, all he could hear was Malfoy breathing on the other end, his own heartbeat equally loud in his ears.

"I liked that. A lot."

Eloquent as always. Ron half expected for Malfoy to say just that, but instead he heard a very soft chuckle ― and then, quietly, "So did I."

Now that his heart rate was gradually slowing, the noise of the club outside wormed its way back in, reminding Ron of where he was, and what he'd just done. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, glancing at the door when he heard a chatty couple pass by. How long had he been in there? Were the others looking for him?

Another person suddenly banged on the door, and Ron started, pushing off from the wall and quickly withdrawing his wand, disabling his Silencio and spelling himself clean.

"Right." He wanted to say more. Merlin, he did. But instead all he said just then was, "Well, I should probably, er, get back to it. You know?"

"Of course." There was rustling on the line, and then Ron was off speakerphone, Malfoy's voice close and intimate again in a way that made him shiver. "Have a good night, Weasley."

"You too, Malfoy."

Ron exited the bathroom, ignoring the irritated look the other patron gave him as he slipped past.

The entire way back to their table, he felt like he was floating on a cloud. Harry gave him an odd look when he slid into his seat, pulling the fresh pint they'd bought him an indeterminable amount of time ago towards him. Ron couldn't even begin to catch up with what they were all talking about, his mind drifting to thoughts of Malfoy, his mobile a leaden weight in his pocket as the night wound on.

#writer asks #dron #ron x draco #ron weasley #draco malfoy #harry potter #hp #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfiction #fangqueen writes fanfiction #fangqueen speaks

48 notes · View notes

laurenairay · 3 years

Text

Make Me a Fool - T. Barrie

Summary: Sofia is tired of going on dates with the wrong guys - when a meet-cute with Tyson turns into only friendship, will she ever have anything more than that?

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: meet-cute, fluff, pining, friends to lovers, some bad language

A/N: this is my first OC in a published fic! (I have another in a WIP). Thank you to @danglesnipecelly and @itsbadgerbadgermushroom for their encouragement in trying this 😘 and also tagging @texanstarslove and @broadstbroskis for just genuinely being sweethearts 💚

~~~

The Dating World hadn’t exactly been an easy ride for Sofia. No matter where she met guys – whether it was through dating apps, blind date recommendations from mutual friends, or even that cute guy she met at the coffee shop – every single one had turned out to be no good. They were all wrong for so many reasons, whether that was a playboy with multiple girls on the go, a guy who was only actually after sex, someone that was so self-centered that she barely got a word in edgeways, or there was simply no spark.

And it wasn’t like she didn’t want these dates to work – Sofia loved love. Her parents had met in high school and had been together happily in love ever since. Sure, she knew that was rare, but to her they were absolute couple goals. All she wanted was to love someone and be loved in return, just like her parents loved each other. Was that really so much to ask for?

Sofia certainly didn’t think so.

Another Friday night alone rolled around, and the only thing Sofia wanted was to get a pint of ice-cream and watch some sappy movies. Maybe while giving herself a pedicure and wearing a facemask. Who didn’t love a pamper night? So with her wavy brown hair piled on top of her head, blue eyes scrubbed free of make-up, and wearing her glasses instead of her usual contact lenses, Sofia headed out for her ice-cream. There were a fair few people in the grocery store when she arrived including one guy by the ice-cream freezer. Huh, a very cute guy. Luckily she was still wearing a bra. No, not the time. She was here for ice-cream, and ice-cream only.

As she walked up to him though, Sofia noticed that he seemed to be desperately looking for something – a specific flavour? – but with no luck. Yep, there was the desperate whimper of frustration. Time to step in; this was her territory.

“You okay there bud?” Sofia asked, frowning.

The guy flinched slightly but turned to face her with a frustrated expression. Oh wow he was beautiful – square jaw, gorgeous brown eyes, big broad shoulders, thick arms…and those curls! Wait, no, focus.

“No, I’m not. I just moved here for work and everything is shit and I just wanted my favourite flavour ice-cream but they don’t have it and I just…ugh!”

The guy trailed off, running a shaky hand through his messy curls. Oh wow, she hadn’t been expecting that. Nevertheless…

“Sorry, you didn’t need to know all that. It’s just been a really bad week,” he grimaced, trying to force a smile.

Poor guy. Well, she could definitely relate to comfort eating after a bad week, that was for sure. So Sofia smiled kindly back, shaking her head. “Please don’t apologise! We all have shitty weeks,”

The guy laughed, but it still sounded a little broken. Time to step up her game.

“Maybe I can suggest an alternative? I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m a regular at this particular freezer,” she said, wearing a hopeful smile.

This seemed to crack a genuine smile. “Sure, be my guest,” he nodded, “I’m Tyson, by the way,”

Well it was a start. “I’m Sofia. Nice to meet you!”

Tyson smiled shyly at her, seeming a little hesitant.

Sofia dramatically rolled her head from side to side, stretched her arms over her head and bounced a few times on the spot as if warming up, earning an outright giggle from Tyson, making her grin at him. Much better.

“Okay, cherry vanilla sweetheart is okay, banana toffee treat is a weirdly interesting combination, I’m a huge fan of the fudgy chocolate brownie, and the caramel swirl is to die for. But my absolute favourite is the peanut butter chocolate heaven. If you like Reese’s chocolate, then you’ll love this one,” she listed, pointing to the different shelves.

What? Sofia took her ice-cream seriously – there was nothing wrong with that.

Tyson looked a little stunned, but that quickly turned into a brilliant smile, making Sofia’s breath catch in her throat. “The peanut butter chocolate one sounds pretty good actually. Exactly what I need,”

“Happy to help,” Sofia shrugged, trying to play it cool as she passed him a carton of it, as well as grabbing one for herself.

“Hey, um….”

Sofia looked up at Tyson as he trailed off, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. What?

“This is a kinda weird to ask, and I swear I’m not a creep, but I’m new in town and I really don’t know the best places in town to get ice-cream from so-”

“Would you like my number?” Sofia asked, trying not to giggle at his rambling, “for ice-cream related emergencies?”

Tyson’s smile seemed to dim slightly, but he nodded so Sofia figured that was what he wanted to ask her. That was what he wanted, right?

“Yeah, exactly,” he murmured, “I could really use a friend,”

Sofia hoped her smile hadn’t dimmed as well when she passed her phone to him. Friend. Why did that feel weird?

When he passed her phone back with his saved number in it, Sofia sent him a quick message of ‘Hey, it’s Sofia :)’, earning a smile from him as his phone lit up.

“I’ll see you again soon, ice-cream friend?” he asked, voice full of hope.

She couldn’t help but to giggle, nodding her agreement. “Yeah I’d like that Tyson,” she said, smiling at him.

If he wanted friendship, then she could and would give it to him.

The friendship that blossomed between Tyson and Sofia was genuine and sweet. He’d texted her the next morning, just a picture of the empty carton and a thumbs up – and she laughed as she sent back the exact same thing. And from there they were texting pretty much every day, Sofia getting to know exactly how sweet and kind and caring Tyson was. They started hanging out in person too, coffee runs and lunches and late-night dinners, to the point where they had a standing movie night (with ice-cream!) every Friday when Tyson didn’t have a game – and hadn’t that been a surprise, finding out that he played in the NHL. He had admitted that ice-cream wasn’t even remotely in his diet plan at all, but Sofia obviously wasn’t going to tell anyone – and besides, Tyson deserved a cheat treat every now and again, especially with how hard he was working and playing.

Over less than two months, Tyson quickly became one of her best friends. He was just so easy to talk to, and he knew exactly how to make her smile when she was having a bad day – not to mention how amazing his hugs were. And she knew that she was a huge support for him in his new city. She always answered the phone while he was on roadtrips so he could hear a friendly voice, never judging for anything. Sofia knew that she gave him a break from the intensity of his hockey life. She just…liked him, okay? He was such a good person, and really quite her ideal guy – but he only wanted and needed a friend, so that’s what she was determined to be for him. He deserved that much at least.

A few more months passed into their friendship, and it was a week into the New Year where their Fridays lined up perfectly, so Sofia was on her way over to Tyson’s with a couple of bottles of decent white wine. He was supplying the ice-cream this time, but damn it she needed the wine too. Yesterday night she went on her third date with a cute guy she’d been really hopeful about, but, well…

“He said what?” Tyson gasped, his jaw dropping.

“That he wanted to fool around before we went any further, and if I didn’t want to then he couldn’t see a future for us,” Sofia groaned.

“Please tell me you kicked his ass to the curb,” Tyson scowled.

“You’re damn right I did,” Sofia grumbled, taking a big gulp of her wine.

Tyson took a big gulp of wine in solidarity, staring at her with his big brown eyes wide with disbelief. But then Sofia couldn’t help but sigh.

“Why do my dates always end up going so badly? Is there something wrong with me?” Sofia asked, pouting.

Was there? Had she been the problem all along? But Tyson immediately shook his head.

“No, absolutely not,” he said firmly

As much as the conviction in his words made her heart skip a beat, she sighed again.

“Tyson…”

“Nope, I won’t have you talk about yourself like that,” Tyson interrupted, frowning at her, “These guys you try to date are the problem, not you. Ethan…Easton…Evan…whatever his name was, you are worth so much more than that. You’re kind, funny, smart, caring and beautiful, and any guy would be lucky to have you in their life,”

Any guy, huh? Sofia felt tears spring to her blue eyes, so she quickly wiped them away, but not before Tyson saw.

“Hey, c’mere,” he murmured, beckoning her towards him.

Sofia shuffled down the sofa willingly, curling into Tyson’s side and slumping her head against his chest. She immediately relaxed as his arm wound around her waist.

“It’s okay to be a romantic, yeah? It’s not a bad thing that you want to genuinely fall in love. I know I do,” Tyson said softly.

Of course he wanted to fall in love as well. Of course.

“Thanks Tys. I don’t know what I would do without you in my life,” Sofia sighed, squeezing his hand where it rested on her hip.

Tyson just hummed his agreement, pressing a kiss to her wavy hair, making Sofia smile sadly. Of all the guys she couldn’t have, why did Tyson have to be one of them? She couldn’t see Tyson’s sad smile in return though.

“Ice-cream and 10 Things I Hate About You?” Tyson asked.

“Yes please, I need Heath Ledger in my life,” Sofia nodded, sniffing as she sat upright.

Tyson laughed, wiping her cheeks dry of the tears she didn’t know had fallen. “There, still beautiful,”

Why did he have to make things so difficult?

Love was a funny thing. It could be fleeting, passing like a ship in the night, or even all-consuming, like a wildfire with no hope until it burned out on its own. The more time that Sofia spent with Tyson, the harder she fell for him, and the harder it was for her to pretend that she was okay just being friends. No matter how many first dates she went on, how many guys she hoped to move on from him with, nothing worked. The very first moment they’d met when she’d gone out of her way to make him laugh as she recommended him ice-cream, she knew she was done for. But how could she tell him how she felt? He’d literally asked for her phone number to be his new friend in a new city, nothing more. And there was no way she was ruining the incredible friendship that they’d built between them, not a chance. There was no way she could feel anything but empty if he was no longer in her life, and she couldn’t risk losing him. She wouldn’t.

But she didn’t know what to do.

What Sofia didn’t know was that Tyson felt exactly the same. The moment he’d met her, he was gone. She was beautiful – that much was obvious as soon as he saw her – sparkling blue eyes, that amazing wavy brown hair he always wanted to run his fingers through, and the warmest most genuine smile he’d ever seen. But it was her heart that dazzled him on that first night – instead of walking away from his crazy mid-breakdown frantic self, she’d offered to help him and made him laugh. She’d gone above and beyond to make him feel better, and he’d never met anyone like her before. Like an idiot though, he’d completely messed up asking her out on a date, and instead she’d given him her number to be his friend in this new city. Only his friend.

Hell, he knew she wasn’t interested in him romantically – she went on enough dates to show him that he didn’t stand a chance. How could he? He knew he was nowhere near good enough for her as a life partner. Even though he’d told Nate (wonderful oblivious emotionally-useless Nate) how hopeless he felt in their weekly phonecalls, Nate kept telling him to take a chance on Sofia, that Sofia would feel the same as him, Tyson knew Nate was wrong. But there was no way he could give up having her in his life, no matter how much it hurt him to be second to those stupid guys she dated. So he did his best to be the absolute best friend she could possibly need, no matter how hard it was.

Tyson only wished she could see him as more.

“Oh god, why did I drink so much?” Sofia groaned.

Tyson giggled as she slumped against his front door as he closed it, just about able to kick her heels off her feet. “I told you not to do shots with the Swedes, but you didn’t listen,”

Sofia whined, not wanting to admit that he was right. Even though he was right. Tyson smiled fondly at her, shaking his head as he kicked off his own shoes.

“I just wanted your teammates to like me,” she grumbled.

“They already do, sweetheart. They love you as much as I do,”

Tyson froze at the words that spilled from his lips, his heart skipping a beat at the smile that spread across her lips.

“Sweetheart?” Sofia grinned.

Tyson let out a shaky breath. The deep blush that spread across his face made Sofia laugh, a little giddiness rushing through her body along with the alcohol.

“Let’s get you some water,” Tyson grumbled.

Sofia just laughed again, skipping along behind him to the kitchen. It had been a last minute invite to drinks with his team this Friday night (she’d initially hoped to save the Friday night for a second date with a guy from Hinge that she had been hopeful about, but their first date on Tuesday had been so dry and dull), but Sofia had still had a brilliant time. She knew that Tyson knew that she had been disappointed with her date this week, so it had been really sweet of him to invite her out to cheer her up. And he’d even called her sweetheart! A girl could dream, right? Tyson kept his back to her as he reached for a glass in the cupboard and pulled out a jug of filtered water from the fridge, but Sofia just hopped up on the island counter to watch him, happily swinging her legs.

She’d had a great evening with one of her favourite people and now she was still hanging out with him – what more could she want?

“Here, why don’t you drink this while I get you something comfy to wear?” Tyson murmured, breaking her out of her thoughts as he pressed the cold glass of water into her hand.

“Thanks Tys,” she said, smiling, “you’re the best,”

He smiled shyly at her, still blushing slightly, before he left the room to get her some clothes. Sofia sipped on the water as she waited to Tyson to return, still swinging her legs with a smile on her face. She knew she probably shouldn’t have had so many shots tonight, but it had just been such a fun atmosphere. Sofia definitely wasn’t the only one drinking that much (at least, she wasn’t the guy that had to be carried out to an uber) – and she knew that Tyson was watching out for her, so she knew she was able to relax and just have fun. He made her feel safe, that she could just be herself without worrying, and tonight at the bar she’d had an amazing time.

The hangover tomorrow would be worth it.

“Okay, some comfy shorts and a tshirt for you,” Tyson announced, walking back in the room, dressed in sweatpants and an old tshirt now instead of his nice shirt and jeans.

“Ooh gimme,” Sofia grinned, hopping off the counter.

Tyson smiled fondly at her, taking the glass from her hand in exchange for the clothing. Then she frowned at him, earning a frown back. “What’s wrong?”

“The zipper on this dress always sticks and all the vodka will not help – will you unzip me?” Sofia asked, eyes wide and pleading.

Something inside her was telling her that this was a stupid idea, such a stupid thing to ask, but the remaining alcohol coursing through her veins drowned that out. But when Tyson just stood there in silence, his mouth slightly open and his eyes glazed, she felt a niggle of doubt start to creep in. What was she doing, asking him to unzip her? Stupid.

“Forget it, I’ll just stay in this dress,” Sofia mumbled.

“No!”

Sofia flinched at his shout, making him wince.

“I’ll unzip you, it’s fine,” Tyson insisted, “turn around?”

Sofia nodded, biting her lip as soon as her back was facing him, swallowing heavily as she heard him take a shaky breath. She jumped slightly as his fingers brushed the top of her spine, unable to stop her heart beating faster as he slowly unzipped her dress. What had she been thinking, asking him to unzip her? Now she’d never forget the feeling of him standing so close, the touch of his fingers on the small of her back, no matter that she was still a little tipsy.

“There, all done,” Tyson said, voice a little shaky, “I’ll go put a movie on, yeah?”

Sofia just nodded, watching in silence as he walked away. Damn it. She took a deep breath, letting her dress drop to the floor with her eyes briefly closed, before shaking herself out of it and quickly unhooking her bra, dropping that to the floor too. Once she’d pulled on his clothes over her panties (even his laundry detergent smelled amazing), she dumped her discarded clothes onto the kitchen counter and headed into the living room to join him. He’d turned off all but one floor lamp, leaving the room with a low glow, nice and cosy. Tyson looked up at her with a smile, settling her nerves. Whatever, it had just been a weird moment, that was all.

“Pretty Woman?” he suggested.

“Sounds good to me,” she nodded.

He lifted his arm, making her grin and sit down, snuggling into his side, kicking her legs up next to his on the ottoman.

“Comfy?” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Yeah, press play,” she nodded, settling into his hold.

It can’t have been more than 30 minutes before Sofia felt a little heavier in his arms, so Tyson looked down – sure enough, Sofia was fast asleep in his arms. He swallowed heavily as he watched her peaceful face, mind flashing back to the kitchen moment earlier. Unzipping her dress had felt so intimate, especially when his fingers touched the small of her back, and now she was lying in his arms? How was his heart supposed to cope with this? This was everything he wanted…and it wasn’t real. It wasn’t going to last. But…surely it wasn’t a bad thing if he just let her continue sleeping? She looked so sweet, so cosy, and he didn’t want to disturb her. So instead, he just switched the movie off, tossing the remote onto the coffee table before snagging the blanket off the back of the sofa and gently throwing it over the two of them. Their legs were already kicked up on the ottoman after all; he could sleep like this. Luckily she’d already been wearing her glasses tonight rather than her contacts, so at least he didn’t have to worry about waking her up to take them out – he just gently pulled them off her face and tossed them to the other end of the sofa. No point in waking her up. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, relaxing back into the cushions, and closed his eyes.

He could pretend for one night, right?

Sofia blinked her eyes open slowly, groaning as she (blurrily) saw that it was 5am from the clock on the wall. They hadn’t even turned off the floor lamp…but the tv was off and there was a blanket over her. Over them. And Tyson had even taken off her glasses for her. Oh wow. She’d fallen asleep on Tyson, and he hadn’t moved her? She lifted her head from Tyson’s chest, looking at his sleeping face with a soft smile. He was so handsome, wasn’t he? Her heart ached a little at the gentle expression on his face, soft and kind even in sleep. Wow. And it was so nice being held in his arms, the two of them having shifted a little to curl around each other in their sleep, her arm over his waist with both of his around her. She could stay like this for a little longer, right? He was so warm, and it just felt so right…

She could pretend for one night, right?

The next few weeks following the sofa-sleepover weren’t quite as smooth and easy as Sofia had hoped. It’s not that it was particularly awkward, oh no, and there definitely wasn’t a bad vibe between her and Tyson…it was just different. Something felt different between them – she didn’t know if it was because she knew what it felt like to sleep wrapped up in his arms, or the fact that he had demonstrated (even more so than usual) just how kind and caring he truly was, but it was something. And she knew Tyson was the same, because every now and again he would get a strange expression on his face before he shook it off and carried on as usual with a smile.

She couldn’t put her finger on it, and it was frustrating as hell. It was almost like being in limbo, that weird stage that wasn’t quite friendship anymore, but definitely wasn’t anything more. And Sofia was getting so tired of it. She knew she was going to have to tell him sooner rather than later – things were too off for her not to. Because at this rate, she was just going to make herself devastatingly miserable, and she had more respect for herself than that. She wasn’t a fool, and she wasn’t going to start acting like one now.

It was going to have to be all or nothing. But damn if that wasn’t the scariest thing Sofia had ever felt. And she had put it off every time she’d seen him since that night, unable to speak the words that would change everything. It was just so hard, faced with the potential of losing him for good. She hadn’t even been on any dates at all over the past few weeks, unable to even think of anyone that wasn’t him, which was so outside of her usual self that even her colleagues had noticed.

Speaking of…

Tonight she was out at a bar with some of her friends from work. It wasn’t a big weekend booze-up, just a casual couple of drinks after work mid-week – Sofia was only planning on having a couple of glasses of wine as she was heading out to dinner with Tyson afterwards. All she knew was that he had a phone call scheduled for something to do with his work, so they’d decided to meet at the bar first before heading out for food. Sofia was all glammed up though, contact lenses in and blue eyes surrounded by a subtle smoky-eye, with a cute new little black lace dress hugging her curves. She’d gotten ready in the bathrooms at work with a couple of the other ladies she worked with (they were staying out for drinks after she left) so at least she wasn’t the only one. She felt beautiful, the confidence shining through in her smile, and she knew she’d turned heads as she walked into the bar with her colleagues.

Maybe tonight was the night. Hah. Maybe not.

“And another glass of Sauvignon Blanc for you, Sofia!”

Sofia smiled as her friend passed her the new wine glass, nodding her head in thanks. She needed to stay out of her thoughts, wary of being lost in them, especially as she was seeing Tyson tonight. Clear, focused and confident. That’s what she needed to be. Not pining and mopey. No, that wasn’t good at all.

“Oh, hey, isn’t that your boy?”

Your boy. Hah. If only.

She spun around to where her colleague was indicating, unable to stop the smile that spread over her lips as she saw Tyson. Waving to get his attention, Tyson did a dorky wave back before he walked over.

“Hey, sorry I’m a little late. You look amazing,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

She blushed slightly as she hugged him back, squeezing his waist even with her wine in her hand, before letting go.

“Thank you, you’re too sweet! And it’s really not a problem. I did just get a new glass of wine though,” she said, lifting it in indication.

Tyson laughed, shrugging. “I’ll get myself a beer too then, and we can head out after?”

“Sounds good to me!” she grinned.

Tyson grinned back, walking over to the bar in question. Sofia turned back to her colleagues, several of whom were grinning widely at her, but she just rolled her eyes, shaking her head and earning a few pouts.

“Don’t you dare say anything,” she warned.

A couple of them held up their hands in surrender, making her laugh, but another frowned over at something over Sofia’s shoulder.

“Maybe you should say something,” her friend said, jutting her chin in the direction of the bar.

Sofia turned around again, to see what the hell her friend was talking about, before she froze, her breath catching in her throat. Tyson was at the bar…talking with a pretty blonde woman. That, that didn’t mean anything, right? It wasn’t like they were…oh, there it was, the woman brushed her hand up against Tyson’s arm, giggling at something Tyson said while he smiled down at her. Of course a beautiful woman was flirting with him, and why wouldn’t he flirt back? It wasn’t like he had anything or anyone tying him down. It wasn’t like she had any claim to him herself. It wasn’t like Sofia had ever told him how she felt.

And now she was paying for it. Was she really too late? After all this time? Feeling her smile slip, Sofia turned her back on Tyson, forcing her smile back on her face for her colleagues, who were all just staring at her in pity.

“Please don’t,” she begged, taking a deep breath, “clearly I lost my chance,”

“He’s already walking back over, that was just flirting!” one of the girls insisted.

But Sofia just shook her head, taking a big gulp of wine. She was going to need it. That woman was beautiful, blonde and buxom just like every hockey WAG stereotype. And she was definitely not – so maybe this wake-up call was what she needed. No matter how much it hurt.

“Hey, sorry I took so long, service was slow,” Tyson said, apologising as he slipped back in next to her.

Lie. But it was okay, it wasn’t like she wasn’t aware.

“No worries. Cheers!” Sofia said, raising her glass.

Tyson frowned slightly at the fakeness of her smile, but lifted his pint glass to clink with hers anyway. Sofia just took another big gulp of wine.

After that, as hard as she tried, she couldn’t break herself out of that edge of sadness. The evening was tinged with it now, like an ice grip over her heart. Seeing him flirting with that woman was the kick up the ass that she needed – there was a reason that she and Tyson were just friends.

But even though she tried to keep up a happy façade, she knew that Tyson saw through it, even when they’d left and were eating in the restaurant he wanted to try. He would pause every now and again, a little confused expression on his face, which only broke Sofia’s heart a little more. He knew her so well, but he still didn’t know this. And now she didn’t even know if it was worth saying anything – she looked nothing like the woman he’d been flirting with, so what was the point?

Soon enough, their dinner was over (not that Sofia could say what she’d eaten or what they’d talked about, only that neither of them drank anything alcoholic), and Tyson was driving them home.

Oh, he was driving them to his apartment. Not what she’d expected, but she would roll with it. Nothing they hadn’t done several dozen times before. She could hold herself together a little longer.

“So, the food there was really nice. I’ll have to recommend it to some of the guys,” Tyson said, smiling as he unlocked the door.

“Definitely!” she nodded, shutting the door behind them, “although I’m pretty sure none of them will be going for dessert like we did,”

Tyson made a shushing noise, pressing her finger dramatically to his lips, making her laugh as they walked into the kitchen, sitting down on the stools at his kitchen island. Her laugh trailed off slightly as her heart clenched again, realising how comfortable and how right this felt between them. Why couldn’t this be easy? Why couldn’t things just be easy for her for once?

“Hey, what’s going on?”

She looked over to Tyson as his soft question brought her out of her thoughts.

“What do you mean?” she asked, forcing a smile onto her lips.

“There,” he frowned, “That. That fake smile, you’ve been doing it all night,”

Ouch.

“Have not,” she muttered.

“Yes, you have! You were fine when I first met you but as soon as I came back with a drink, something had changed. What’s wrong?”

Why did he have to be so perceptive? He was a hockey player for fuck’s sake. Why did he have to notice this now?

“It’s nothing Tys. I’m fine,” she said firmly.

Tyson rolled his eyes, making her purse her lips together. “I can tell when you’re lying, Sof. You’re clearly not fine. What happened? Was it something I said?”

“No, it wasn’t something you said,” she said sharply.

“Then what’s wrong? Because it’s clearly something!” he asked, his voice raising louder in frustration.

Ugh, for fuck’s sake.

“Why can’t you just drop it?” she snapped.

“Why won’t you just tell me?” he shot back.

Sofia groaned, throwing her head back. “Maybe it’s personal and maybe I don’t want to tell you,”

“What did I do to make you not trust me? We tell each other everything and now there’s something you can’t say? Won’t say? What the hell Sof-”

“I like you!”

Oh god.

Oh no.

As Sofia tried to breathe, there was one thing she noticed more than anything. Tyson was frozen, his mouth open in shock – and he hadn’t said a word. Sofia laughed at his silence, a little wet with imminent tears, a lot broken, and shook her head. What was a little more heartbreak, right? It’s not like she could take it back now.

“No, you know what? I’m pretty sure I love you. But that doesn’t matter, right? Because you haven’t said a damn thing a-and I knew this was going to be the reaction you gave me, which is exactly why I haven’t said anything before. So now you know – I have feelings for you, and…and you clearly don’t have feelings for me. I think I’m just going to go,”

She still hesitated though, as she pulled her phone out to order an uber. 2 minutes away. But Tyson opened and closed his mouth, eyes frantic but voice silent. And that was all she needed to know. Uber booked. Goodbye Tyson. Sofia left his apartment with a heavy heart, slamming the door closed behind her, tears prickling at her eyes as she ran to the elevator, but she pressed her lips together in an attempt to control herself. She’d told him how she felt, and he hadn’t returned her feelings. She’d put herself out there, all for nothing. And that’s all there is to it.

She could wait until she was home to cry.

If nothing else, she was lucky enough that by the time she reached the bottom of his apartment building, her uber had arrived, so she hurried in quietly, resting her head against the window. The driver seemed to realise that she wasn’t in the mood to chat and just put on some soft music, making her heart clench even more as her mind replayed the last 10 minutes.

She’d finally told Tyson how she felt.

Tyson hadn’t said anything.

Nothing at all.

And he definitely hadn’t tried to stop her leaving.

What more of an answer did she need?

Sofia woke up with a heavy heart, feeling like every part of her body was aching. She felt empty, completely drained, just as she feared she would if...no, when she lost Tyson. There was no going back now. There was nothing else she could do. Her friendship with Tyson was over, and fuck that hurt so much. He was such a big part of her life…what was she supposed to do without him?

She barely managed to shuffle from her bed to her kitchen before she started crying, hands shaky as she made her morning coffee. This was her own fault, she knew that. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. So she just let the tears fall, the pain of her heart breaking flooding through her body. It couldn’t have been more than 20 minutes until she finished her coffee, but it felt like hours, her head throbbing and her eyes stinging, her cheeks tacky with tears. She couldn’t carry on like this. She couldn’t waste her day, her life, like this. What was the point in that?

Sofia hated feeling pathetic, feeling weak, especially over a guy (even if that guy was Tyson), so she took a deep breath, wiping her cheeks dry with her fingers. “No more. Suck it up,” she muttered to herself.

Her breath shook as she left her coffee mug in the sink for later, her hands still shaking a little too, but she stood a little taller, trying to convince herself that everything was going to be okay. Because it had to be okay. It had to. There wasn’t any other option.

But as she went to walk towards the bathroom to take a shower, the door buzzer rang. What the hell?

“Who is it?”

“It’s me,”

Holy shit. Oh god. Tyson?!

“What are you doing here?” she asked shakily, her voice cracking.

“Please will you just buzz me up?”

Oh god. Should she? She couldn’t just leave him outside, right? This couldn’t be happening. What the hell was he doing here, after last night?

“Please Sof? We need to talk,”

Well, fuck.

She bit her lip, before pressing the buzzer, allowing the building’s front door to open. She knew she had less than minute before he would climb all the stairs and knock on her front door, so she quickly ran to her bedroom, scrubbing her face with a make-up wipe and running a brush through her hair. That was better than nothing. She whipped off her ratty old pyjamas and quickly pulled on some clean panties, some sweatpants and a baggy sweater, at least making herself look casual rather than like a slob.

Then she heard three knocks on the door. Damn it.

Sofia quickly shoved her glasses on her face, taking one last glance at herself in the mirror before walking as calmly as she could to open the front door. Sure enough, Tyson was standing there, looking the most nervous she’d ever seen him. Well, at least she wasn’t the only one feeling affected.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly.

She just nodded, letting him walk past her before shutting the door behind him. Sofia bit her bottom lip, wringing her hands together, before she took a deep breath. This was her home. She was in control here.

“So, you didn’t answer my question,” she said simply, “what are you doing here?”

Tyson let out a whoosh of breath, running a hand through his messy curls. He looked…well, he looked exhausted, if nothing else. Like he’d barely slept. Much like her. Wow. What was he…

“I came here to apologise, Sofia,” he finally admitted.

“Apologise? For what?” she asked, forcing a smile.

“Stop. Please stop,” Tyson said, his eyes full of sadness as he stared her down, “you know you don’t have to pretend with me,”

Well, fuck.

“What do you want me to say, Tys? I’m trying to patch together a broken heart here,” she said, her smile now wobbly. Damn it. She wasn’t going to cry again. She wasn’t!

“But I don’t want you to patch up a broken heart!” he blurted.

Sofia’s breath caught in her throat, her mouth going dry. What was he saying?

Tyson swallowed heavily, looking down at the ground before looking back at her, his eyes shiny but steady.

“You make me a fool, Sofia,” Tyson murmured, “every time I think I’ve got my head on straight, you spin me around. I always feel like such an idiot around you, always messing up. Just like last night, when I just froze up like a fucking statue instead of telling you how I feel. The thought of you not being in my life, even just overnight, is too much to bear. I can’t be without you,”

What?

He…what?

Tyson saw her hesitation, but didn’t dare stop talking now that he’d started. And Sofia couldn’t find any words to say at all. So Tyson licked his bottom lip nervously, before taking a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“I should never have let you walk out of my front door last night. I should never have let you go without telling you that I love you too,”

Sofia whimpered, hand flying up to cover her mouth as tears filled her eyes. He loves her too? He…loves her? Tyson bit his bottom lip, stepping forward to rest his hands on her shoulders, desperate for the contact.

“Please tell me you still love me? Even though I acted like a fool? Even though I hurt you?” he said softly.

She immediately nodded, tears finally trickling down her cheeks. “Of course I still love you. These feelings aren’t just going to disappear overnight,”

Tyson smiled, his eyes a little watery too, but he leant down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, making Sofia whimper again before slumping into his arms. He slid his hands from her shoulders to wrap his arms fully around her, her hands rising up his back to clutch at his t-shirt.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry,” Tyson whispered.

“It’s okay,” Sofia said, her voice muffled into his chest.

“No, it isn’t. You weren’t okay last night and I pushed you and pushed you, and then acted like a complete asshole,” Tyson muttered.

“You weren’t an asshole! I…I was so sad last night, before we left the bar for dinner. It killed me to see you flirting with her, that beautiful blonde woman while you ordered your drink,”

There. There it was.

But Tyson just huffed a laugh.

“That was nothing. She meant nothing. And now you know how I feel every time you went out on a date with one of those stupid guys,” Tyson mused, “you go out on so many dates!”

Sofia blushed slightly, thunking her head down on Tyson’s collarbone, making him laugh.

“I haven’t been out on any dates at all since we fell asleep on the sofa,” she grumbled.

“Yeah,” Tyson said, his voice much more serious now, “I noticed that. And it gave me hope,”

“Hope?” she asked softly, looking up at him.

“Hope that maybe it wasn’t just me that had feelings,” he explained, smiling.

Sofia smiled shyly back at him, before biting her bottom lip. Tyson noticed her hesitation, and unwrapped his arms from her, leaving one hand linked with hers. Sofia blushed slightly at the contact, as silly and simple as it was, making Tyson smile again.

“C’mon,” he urged, tugging her towards him lightly.

She followed Tyson through her own apartment until they reached the sofa in the living room, the two of them sitting down next to each other. Her heart beat a little faster as he turned to face her properly, but she tucked up her legs to face him too, her knees brushing his thighs. This felt different. This felt so different.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey,” she laughed.

Sofia looked down at where there hands were still joined, Tyson just running his thumb over her knuckles in response. Why were they being so weird about this? No, she needed to know what he wanted. It couldn’t be any worse than last night, that was certain. She could do this.

“So what do you want here, Tys?” she asked softly.

Tyson smiled. She was so much braver than him, twice now. “I want to call you mine, Sofia. And I want you to call me yours,”

Sofia’s breath caught in her throat, but her lips spread into a brilliant smile. Yes. That was…that was everything she wanted. And he was just offering it to her on a silver platter? Really? Well, she wasn’t turning this done, no way in hell.

“I think I could get used to calling you my boyfriend,” she said, not hiding an ounce of her happiness.

Boyfriend. Wow.

Tyson’s smile spread into a grin, the giddiness spreading through his face, making her laugh. “I can’t wait to tell Nate that you’re finally my girlfriend,”

Sofia snorted. Of course Nate would come first before his family. “Is there going to be an I-told-you-so in there?” she mused. She wouldn’t put it past Nate to do so.

“Oh yeah he’s never going to let me live this down,” Tyson nodded, “especially with how I treated you last night,”

Hey, no.

“Water under the bridge, Tys. We’re sorted now, right?” she said firmly.

“Yeah, of course we are,” Tyson grinned, giving her hand a squeeze.

He was finally hers. And she was finally his. Fuck that felt so good.

“There is one thing though,” Tyson said, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Oh yeah?” she said, frowning.

What?

“Can I kiss you?” he asked shyly.

Her frown melted into a smile, earning a smile back. Instead of answering, Sofia leant her head up, Tyson meeting her in the middle to press their lips together in a gentle kiss. Oh wow. Oh wow oh wow oh wow. She pulled away with her lips tingling, Tyson looking just as dazed as her.

“Kiss me again?” Sofia asked breathlessly.

Tyson grinned.

#my writing #tyson barrie #tyson barrie fic #meet cute to just friends to lovers #all the pining you could ever want #tyson barrie x reader #tyson barrie imagine #tyson barrie fanfiction #hockey writing #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl writing #nhl imagine

203 notes · View notes