#Front Row Boston

[erichtmercury]

mixed up the time for the start of chappell’s set and missed hot to go and naked in manhattan💔the latter especially breaks my heart bc i adore that one line “let’s make it cinematic, like that one sex scene that’s on muholland drive” that she sings SO gorgeously it touches my soul😭

i’m consoling myself that i least caught my other faves: red wine supernova, good luck babe, and pink pony club(!!!) and also w the equivalent exchange i’m currently making w myself that i’ll get closer to the front for hozier than i’ve ever gotten before.

[mer-se]

Prima Facie 🎭🤍 4/18

:’)

[likeumeanit9497]

in the clouds | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: matt is taking y/n home to boston to meet his parents for the first time, and y/n would be lying if she said she wasn't nervous. but once they've been in the air for a few hours and boredom begins to get to them both, they find a way to occupy themselves.

warnings: smut; established relationship; mutual masturbation; p in v; dirty talk; a little fluff if you squint; unprotected sex; 18+

notes: i wrote this suuuuper quick so def not my best work, but it's been a while since i posted something so i wanted to get something up here. i hope ya'll enjoy!!!

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

“Have a great flight.” The lady at the terminal gate said to me with a smile as she handed me my scanned ticket. “Thank you.” I replied before walking towards my boyfriend, Matt, who was waiting for me a few feet ahead. Once I reached him, he grabbed my hand and placed a soft kiss on my forehead. “You ready?” He asked, to which I inhaled a deep breath and nodded apprehensively.

Matt and I met at a party about eight months ago, and had hit it off right away. I had been drawn in by his sunken blue eyes and withdrawn behaviour that night, but grew hooked by his kind nature and complex personality once we began speaking regularly. We made it official less than a month after meeting, and had been inseparable since. Our relationship developed into something quite serious rather quickly, but things still somehow felt new and exciting everyday.

Today, we were flying back to his hometown in Boston, where I was going to meet his parents for the first time. Although he had reassured me countless times that MaryLou and Jimmy were going to love me, I couldn’t help but feel a bit intimidated by meeting two of the most important people in Matt’s life. Not only that, but I had also never been in a relationship that grew serious enough to meet the parents of my significant other before now; so the unknown territory made the whole ordeal all the more daunting.

Matt’s triplet brothers Chris and Nick had left for Boston the day before, as I had to stay in Los Angeles an extra day for work. This added another unsettling element, as I had grown so used to the presence of the other two on a day-to-day basis. However, what that meant was Matt and I had a good excuse to buy first class tickets instead of the usual economy tickets. This brought me some relief, as I had never sat in first class before and knew that I would be able to relax much easier than I had on previous flights.

Arriving at the front of the plane, we were guided by the flight attendant to the fifth row of seats and I gasped. In front of me was a spacious row with just two large seats. The seats were joined together — separated only by an arm rest — but both had a ridiculous amount of leg room, and there was even a privacy curtain available to use at the end of the aisle.

“Oh my god Matt, this one row is almost as big as my entire bedroom at home!” I exclaimed excitedly before hurrying into my window seat. Matt chuckled before following me into the row and getting comfortable in his own seat beside mine. “I take it you like it?” He asked sarcastically, though I still nodded my head like an enthusiastic toddler. “Well, get settled in baby. We’ve got a five and a half hour flight ahead of us.” He leaned over the cushioned arm rest between our seats and planted a soft kiss on my lips. I sighed at the reminder before investigating the small gift bundle beside my seat. There were a few snacks, some travel-sized toiletries, and a pillow and blanket; I couldn’t help but squeal from excitement. “Holy shit Matt! Look at this stuff!” I quickly unfolded the blanket and wrapped myself in it as he did the same. “I know, it’s cool right. And it doesn’t stop there, watch this.” Matt smirked before reaching under his chair, when suddenly his seat reclined all the way back and transformed into a bed.

“WHAT?” I exclaimed before searching under my own seat for the recline handle. I giggled as my chair fell back and I was suddenly horizontal. “Oh my god, I am in heaven.” I sighed blissfully, stretching my arms above my head in bliss. “And look,” Matt continued, reaching for the arm rest and pushing it back so that it became flush with our beds, “Now we just have one big bed to share.” He giggled before scooting closer to my side while simultaneously grabbing my waist and pulling me into him. I laughed and rolled over so that I could face him; propping myself up on my elbow and gazing down at him. “Thank you Matty.” I said before planting a gentle kiss on his eyelid. “You don’t have to thank me, Y/n,” He chuckled, “I just can’t wait for my parents to meet you.” My heart fluttered from his words, and I repositioned my body so that I could curl into his.

“I can’t wait to meet them, either. I mean, I’m nervous as fuck but I really do want to get to know the two people who created you three weirdos.” I closed my eyes, feeling my body relax as the plane began moving down the tarmac. Matt mindlessly rubbed my back as we laughed, just waiting for the unmistakable sensation of the plane taking off.

Once we were finally in the air, I rolled over to fetch my air pods from my backpack. “Let’s listen to some music, I can’t stand all this white noise in here.” I said, handing the left pod to Matt and keeping the right for myself. Once they were secured in both of our ears, I scrolled through my Spotify account to find mine and Matt’s shared playlist before hitting shuffle. I fell onto my back and closed my eyes as the music played in both of our ears; growing more and more comfortable as my eyes grew heavy and the sensation of sleep began to overtake me.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

I was awoken from my deep sleep by the sound of a baby wailing a few aisles behind me. Forgetting where I was for a moment, I woke with a startle before remembering that I was on a plane. Slightly disoriented, I checked the time on my phone to discover that we had been in the air for four hours. I was shocked that I was able to sleep that long on a flight, since usually in the economy seats I would struggle to even get 45 minutes of true rest. I looked to my right at Matt’s sleeping figure. He was lying on his stomach with his peaceful face turned in my direction — very clearly having as deep of a sleep as I was previously having. His dark eyelashes fluttered slightly every now and then, and due to the way his face pressed against the small pillow, his pink lips were squished into an exaggerated pout.

Admiring his undeniable beauty, I had to resist the urge to lean over and pepper him with kisses. Instead, I went on my phone and began scrolling through our music playlist. After queuing a few songs, I moved onto my camera roll to kill some time as I felt boredom begin to overtake me. I felt like the biggest loser ever as I scrolled through the countless photos I had taken of Matt and I over the past few months with a corny smile plastered to my face. We truly had spent nearly every single day together since that first night that we met, and I had been sure to capture as many memories on camera as I could.

I continued to scroll for a few moments before coming across a particular memory that caused me to audibly gasp. It was a video that Matt and I had made about a month before. Our first and only sex tape. Before playing the video, I snuck a glance at Matt to make sure he was still sleeping and turned the volume down to zero so that it wouldn’t play through the air pod that was still resting in his ear. Cautiously, I hit play on the video and watched from Matt’s angle as he pounded into me from behind. To be completely honest, I had totally forgotten that we had taken that video and hadn’t even watched it before, so I stared in awe as our bodies collided again and again. The only issue was that I so badly wanted to hear the audio as my curiosity notoriously got the better of me in situations such as this. I was curious to know what I really sounded like during sex, and knew that listening to the audio was one of the only ways that I could.

Suddenly, I had an idea that would not only allow me to listen but would also have the potential to wake Matt up. Looking at him once again with a smirk across my face, I started the video from the beginning; this time with the volume about halfway up. Instantly, my right ear was filled with the unmistakably erotic sounds of our sex; body parts smacking against one another, loud moans, and the occasional dirty phrase falling from one of our mouths.

With the brightness on my phone turned down low, I watched intently at our moving bodies on my screen. I could only pull my eyes away to take a quick glance at Matt, who was beginning to shift around slightly under the blanket. I watched him for a moment, noticing that his eyes were still closed and he appeared to still be sound asleep. Growing frustrated that he still wasn’t waking up, I turned the sound on my phone to maximum volume just as the recorded version of him and I were reaching our climaxes. The crude noises became more and more erratic as the volume increased, and suddenly Matt’s blue eyes shot open.

He scanned the area frantically, obviously disoriented and confused by the sounds swarming his ears. When his eyes finally met mine and he noticed the playful smile on my face, he visibly relaxed and rolled his eyes sarcastically. “Y/n, what the fuck are you watching?” He asked through a chuckle before leaning towards me to take a glance at my phone screen. “Oh my god, you’re ridiculous.” He added once he caught a glimpse of the two of us in the video; falling onto his back and covering his eyes with his crossed arms.

I collapsed into a fit of laughter before innocently replying, “What?”, fluttering my eyelashes and softening my voice. He simply shook his head, but I could see his lips curling into a smile behind his protective arms. “Don’t get me started, baby. Get some rest.” Was his reply, and I grumbled internally. I was far from tired, not only because I had already slept for four hours, but because I had just worked myself up for the past few minutes by watching that video. Still, I reluctantly obliged by hitting shuffle on our playlist once again before finding a comfortable position to attempt to get a bit more sleep.

My eyes were closed, my breathing was steady, but my body was wide awake; so I felt the shift that came from Matt sitting up in the bed. I was laying on my side with my back facing him, but through the soft music playing in my ear I could hear the privacy curtain slide across its rod. My eyes stayed shut as I felt the warmth of his body pressing up against me. I pretended to not feel his hand gently gliding across the curves of my hips, or his hardening member nudging against my thigh. However, once his lips pressed against the sensitive spot on my neck, my body began to fail me in its pretend ignorance. He delicately sucked on my thin skin, and my pulse began to quicken. His cool breath tickled my neck and I shivered in anticipation. His hand slowly traveled from my hip down my stomach, before finally reaching under my waistband towards my core, and I released a shaky breath.

I felt his lips upturn into a smile against my neck at my clear response. “Oh, so you are awake.” He teased, moving his hand away from my heat and resting his chin in the crook of my neck. I opened my eyes to a squint and looked at him. “What are you doing?” I asked with a slight whine in my voice. He scoffed dramatically. “What, you think you could play a video like that and expect me not to get worked up?” I smiled shyly before responding. “I just wanted to wake you. I was bored.” He scooted himself even closer to me, so that now our bodies were pressed tight against each other. “Oh yeah?” He placed a kiss to my neck again, this time tugging lightly at the skin with his teeth. “And what did you want to do to try to counteract this boredom?” He whispered, and my breath hitched as he brought a hand under my shirt and began fondling my sensitive nipples.

I closed my eyes before turning my body so that I was now facing him. “Matt, we are on a plane right now.” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper by the end of my sentence. He smirked before shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “That’s what the curtain is for, sweetheart.” My eyes shifted to the space behind him, where the curtain was shut and properly secured by a hook near his head. My focus was brought back to him as I felt his hands gently begin tugging down my sweatpants. “You just have to be quiet for me, okay?” I gulped nervously before nodding my head mindlessly, already growing distracted by the arousal beginning to form in my panties.

Matt pulled me closer to him before placing a soft kiss against my lips. His hand gently ran up and down my inner thigh, just barely grazing my heat with each stroke. He placed another kiss against my lips, this one longer and deeper than the first, and he put his right leg between my knees to prop them up and apart. Our mouths moved against each other in sync, and my hands began to travel through his hair, over his shoulders, and finally down to his stomach. I hissed when he finally cupped his hand over my heat, his thumb just barely resting on my clit. Even through the thin layer of fabric that was my panties, the contact was intense. “Mmm, baby, you’re already so wet for me.” He mumbled gruffly against my lips, causing me to squirm.

“Touch me Matty, please.” I begged softly, my eyes pleading as my core began to throb. He chuckled, our teeth clanking together gently, before attacking my neck with his mouth. “So needy, huh? You want these fingers?” He cooed, sliding two of his fingers — now hooked under my panties — up my slit to collect my juices. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my bottom lip as I nodded frantically. “Mhm.” Was all I managed to get out in response to his question. “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.” He was taunting me, both with his words and with his fingers as he toyed with my outer folds. I squirmed again, shifting slightly so that I was more on my back so that I could widen my legs easier. “N-need your fingers baby.” I managed to groan out, doing my best to keep my voice low so that our actions could go unnoticed by everyone around us.

Now leaning over me slightly, he looked down at me with hooded eyelids and a matching smirk. “That’s my girl.” He replied before finally rubbing circles on my swollen clit. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I became engulfed in the overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation. I opened my eyes to find his traveling across my face. He had clearly been watching me in my state of ecstasy, and his blown out pupils and parted wet lips were clear signs that he was liking what he was seeing. Suddenly, a sharp moan escaped my lips as he plunged two of his fingers into me, and he quickly planted a firm hand over my mouth to prevent any more noises as he curled his fingers in and out of me mercilessly. The sensation became almost too much once he connected the base of his palm to my clit and began rubbing it in rhythm with his other movements, and almost without thinking I began clawing at the waist band of his sweatpants; desperate to feel more of him.

I pulled his sweats and his boxers down in one swift movement, and immediately began toying with his rock hard cock. Looking up at him as he continued his movements, I brought my hand to my mouth and allowed my collected saliva to drip onto it before bringing it back to his member. I began milking the tip of his cock and immediately noticed a change of pace in his fingers on my cunt. I watched his face as his eyes fluttered shut momentarily and his ears began to grow red. “Fuck, Y/n.” He moaned softly, his words alone enough to drive me crazy. I continued to stroke him, feeling each and every vein along his sizeable shaft, as I felt the familiar tingling sensation of an orgasm fast approaching.

“I-I need more of you Matty. Give me your cock please.” I was really begging now. My legs were beginning to shake and I was close to losing all control, but I wanted to cum around him. I watched as Matt’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head as his dick twitched in my hand, a clear sign that my words had an impact on him, too. “Turn on your side.” He commanded, and I immediately obliged. Once I was facing away from him, he wasted no time in lying down beside me — one of his arms wrapped across my chest and massaging my right tit — and sliding his cock into my soaking wet pussy.

We both couldn’t help but release small moans at the satisfying feeling that came from him bottoming out, but he gave me little time to adjust to his size before thrusting into me almost desperately. Using his grasp on my tit, he pushed my back against his chest so that my body was flush with his. “Jesus baby, you’re so tight.” He praised softly, his mouth pressed against my ear as his hips continued to snap against my ass. I couldn’t manage a reply, instead I brought my right hand up to grab onto the back of his neck. I fell into a deep trance from the feeling of my spongey walls stretching and moulding to his cock as if they were two matching puzzle pieces. He left sloppy open mouthed kisses all along my face, growing careless with his movements as the pressure in my lower half began to grow almost unbearable.

“You’re close, aren’t you sweetheart.” He breathed against my hair. I couldn’t do much more than nod my head. “It’s okay, let go. Just be a good girl and stay quiet for me okay?” He used his free hand to once again cover my mouth in anticipation of what might come just as my orgasm bubbled over. I did everything I could to stay silent, but as my orgasm tore through me a plethora of moans fell from my lips and into his gentle hand. My grip on the back of his neck tightened and my back arched away from his torso as I felt the unmistakable warm spurt of fluid stream from my cunt.

Just as I began coming down from my high, Matt released a few short grunts before halting his movements entirely. “Fuuuuck.” His profanity came out in a breathy sigh. His forehead fell to my shoulder, and I could feel his dick pulsating inside of me as he painted my walls with his cum. After a moment, I felt his body relax behind me and he collapsed onto his pillow. For a little while, the only sounds coming from our little corner of the plane was the sound of our ragged breathing as we attempted to regain our composure.

“Well,” Matt eventually began, sitting up and lifting the blanket, exposing the wet spot in the bed that my squirt created, “How are we gonna explain this one?” I took a moment to look at it before sliding my sweats back on. “Easy, we just tell them that you got a little scared of the turbulence and pissed yourself.” He rolled his eyes as he put his pants back on as well, and I laughed. “You’re something else kid.”

Just then, a woman’s voice came from behind the closed curtain. Matt looked at me quickly to ensure that I was fully clothed before opening the curtain and coming face to face with an older flight attendant. “Hi there.” She said, her voice cheerful and her face plastered with a fake smile. “We’re going to be making our landing in Boston in about thirty minutes, please return to an upright position as soon as you can.” Matt nodded his head and gave her a quick smile before she promptly moved down to the next row of flyers. As soon as she was out of earshot, he gave me a cheeky side eye and we both immediately broke into fits of laughter.

“We timed that well.” He said through his laughter and I covered my face with my hands. “I can’t believe we just did that.” I replied, shaking my head as I came to the realization that I had just fucked my boyfriend on a commercial flight. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest. “We’re in the mile high club now, baby.” He kissed the top of my head. “Now let’s get our seats back up. Only thirty minutes until you meet my parents!”

[marzipanandminutiae]

You Didn't Do Enough Geographical Research For That Movie/TV Show, a game I love

The Handmaid's Tale: when June and Moira are trying to escape the Red Center, they mention trying to get into downtown Boston. but the subway station they enter has a sign that says "ARLINGTON" being removed. there IS an Arlington, Massachusetts outside the city- but it doesn't have a subway station. the real Arlington Station is in the middle of the Back Bay...in downtown Boston

The Handmaid's Tale again: Moira and Emily are comparing notes on the gay scene in Boston, and Moira says Emily seems "like a Somerville kind of girl" and mentions her going to Club Cafe in the same breath. Club Cafe, a well-known Boston gay bar, is also in the Back Bay, and Somerville is a suburb north of the city

Also The Handmaid's Tale: there are way too many hyper-modern buildings for that to believably look like the Boston area. I get that they filmed this in Toronto, but they could at least...TRY to make it look like the city it's set in? probably more than half of the buildings here are pre-1920s. June and Luke apparently live in Somerville- they take the Red Line, so I'm guessing around Davis? but their apartment is once again super-modern. most apartments in that area are duplexes built around 1910-1920

Legally Blonde: Brooke apparently has a pool and a pool house while living on Beacon Hill. Beacon Hill is mostly row houses with very little outdoor space- while apparently some do have small and/or indoor pools, it's extremely unlikely for any to also have a pool house. there just isn't any room for it

Also Legally Blonde: that doesn't look like Cambridge. at all. come on, now

Legally Blonde again: 45 Dunster Street (not "Dunston" as they said in the movie), Cambridge, doesn't have a lawn or a long front drive. it's right on the street, with just a bit of sidewalk in front. it's also not a residential house- in 2001, it was the home of the Fly Club, an all-male Harvard social club

Brooklyn 99: at one point, a criminal's alibi is that he was at a nightclub in Cape May, New Jersey. Cape May is a very quiet family-friendly resort town, with lots of Victorian summer houses converted into BnBs. my dad's cousin used to own one; we went to visit her a few times. it's not a nightclub type of place at all

[galxaies]

killing myself over taylor swift pre sale on ticketmaster 🙃

[babybluebex]

venus pt.1 | angus tully x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after being accepted as barton academy's first female student, you didn't think it could get any worse. as the fall semester progresses, you start to form a friendship with the outcast, angus, but what happens when the holidays come and you are the last two students on campus? PART 1 OF ? 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: angus tully (the holdovers, 2023) x fem!reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: canon compliance (this is a complete rewrite of the film, just with the added reader insert), lots of swearing, teddy is an asshole but what's new, 70s ideals about feminism (which YES is a warning), mentions of grief/loss 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: oof here we go, part 1 of my long-teased angus fic! be aware that this is literally 11k words, so i apologize for the absolute brick wall of text you're about to encounter (but don't worry, i put a read more on it :) ) also, if i missed any warnings/tags, pls dm me and let me know if you think i should add something! other than that, enjoy!

There were worse fates than this, right? There had to be, you were sure of it. You felt every pair of eyes on you as you walked down the center aisle of the chapel, acutely aware of the overwhelming masculine energy that you were drowning in. After all, at Barton, it wasn’t every day that these boys saw a girl. You wondered how long some of them had gone without laying eyes on a member of the opposite sex (a real one; skin mags don’t count). 

It also didn’t help that the priest at the front of the room had intentionally brought everyone’s eyes to you the moment you walked in. You had tried to slip in unnoticed, but he had said “Ah, here she is now: our very first Barton lady! Come sit up front with the headmaster!” 

You anchored yourself in the frontmost pew, next to the headmaster with a hippie beard, and kept your head still and staring straight ahead. You had known very little about Barton before that school year— you were from nearby Boston, and had gone to a larger high school with, not only a more mixed gender breakdown, but a significantly different economic situation than Barton. You had been shocked, as you took the bus from town to campus, at how many Mercedes and Cadillacs you had seen near the school. You felt like a fish out of water, in more ways than one. 

The priest didn’t end his taunting when you sat down, though. “Many of you probably wondered, when you got on campus for the beginning of the semester, what the new building next to the dormitory was,” he began, and you heard a few mumblings from the row behind you, confirming their confusion. “Well, gentlemen, this year… Barton has become coeducational. The new building, Blackwell Hall, named for the esteemed Elizabeth Blackwell, is the girl’s dormitory.” 

The mumbling behind you increased to a dull rumble, and you slightly turned your head to get a glance at the boys sitting behind you. All high school boys, kids your age, staring at you and wondering what your deal was. You took notice of one boy in particular, the only one around you not gossiping with his friends, totally uninterested and picking at his cuticles. Before you could even think to wonder about this boy, someone from near the back of the chapel yelled “Is she gonna be in classes with us?” 

“Yes, she will,” the priest said. “She is a junior, so, gentlemen, make sure you welcome her warmly to our school.” 

You sat and endured chapel while burning from all the stares in your direction, and, as soon as the priest dismissed the lot of you, you shot up and made your way to the doors, clutching your handbag close to your body. The August air hit your face as you stepped out, and you started back to Blackwell Hall, where your things sat, ready to be unpacked, but someone called out to you, demanding your attention. 

“Hey, girl!” You turned to see who had shouted, and you were met with the sight of a boy with caramel-colored hair, wearing a sports coat and tie. Come to think of it, all the boys were wearing coats and ties. You hadn’t been told anything about a uniform, and suddenly your jeans felt less than appropriate. The boy had a cigarette in his hand, and he beckoned you over to him, and you clenched your back teeth as you (for some reason) obeyed. 

“You’re a junior, huh?” the boy asked, and you nodded. “What classes are you taking?” 

You pursed your lips. “Precalc,” you began. “Ancient Civ. Home Ec. Bio.” 

“Gym?” he asked, and you shook your head. 

“There’s not a girls’ locker room,” you said, hoping he understood your explanation. 

The boy ashed his cigarette, and he said, “What period do you have Ancient Civ?”

You tried to recall what you had written down, and you said, “Fourth period, I think. With Hunham.” 

“Oh,” the boy said with a winning smile. “I’m in that period too. Maybe we could be study partners.” 

You drew in a breath and cleared your throat. “Maybe,” you said softly. “What’s your name?” 

“Teddy,” he replied. “Kountze.” 

“Right,” you mumbled. “Well, um, I’ll see you around, Teddy.” 

“Um, are you going to the cafeteria?” Teddy asked hastily, like he was looking for something to talk to you about. “I-I was about to head there, and, if you wanted someone to sit with, I have a spare seat at my table.” 

“I’m not,” you told him. “Gotta get back to my dorm and finish unpacking. I only got in town today.” 

“How did…” Teddy started. “How did you get in? Your folks hear that Barton was going coed and got you in?” 

You shook your head. “I went to Central High School, in Boston,” you replied. “I was doing a research project and saw in a newspaper that Barton was going coed and having a lottery for the first female student. I sorta put my name in as a joke, and then, when I won, it… Wasn’t really a joke anymore. I had to take some academic placement tests, since Central isn’t exactly a highbrow school, and I got a scholarship that covered a lot of my tuition. The board of trustees waived the rest of it, so…” 

“You’re going here for free?” Teddy asked incredulously. “Jesus, I didn’t even know we had scholarships.” 

“Of course you wouldn’t, Kountze,” a voice said from nearby, and you turned your shoulder to see the boy from chapel who didn’t give a shit about you. He stood tall, rail thin, a mop of dark curls on top of his head. He had eyes like black holes, his pale skin so translucent around his eye sockets that he had purplish-red bags underneath. “Nobody’s going to tell the bottom scum about possible academic achievements. It’s cruel to tease people with something they’ll never have.” 

“Fuck off, Tully,” Teddy snapped. “Don’t you have some porno mag waiting for you?” 

The boy (you supposed his name was Tully) pushed his hands into the pockets of his coat and skulked away, and you scoffed under your breath. “Charming,” you mumbled, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from his back as he left the scene. 

“Jesus, yeah,” Teddy said. “That’s Angus Tully. Biggest asshole here, thinks he’s better than everyone else. God knows why, he’s such a fuckin’ loser. He’s in Hunham’s fourth period too.”  

You furrowed your eyebrows at Angus Tully’s back, and then redirected your attention to Teddy, who was presently snubbing out his cigarette with the toe of his shoe. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” you said softly, and, without another word, departed for your dorm. 

You appreciated that Barton had built a separate dorm for the female students, but, seeing as you were the sole resident of the building, you were irked by it. It was too big and empty, too lifeless and soulless. Certainly, they had built it with future generations in mind, hoping that more girls would eventually enroll and prove the building a necessity, but, for now, you found yourself aching with loneliness. You missed your mom and your sisters, in your small apartment in downtown Boston, just a few blocks from your old high school. You missed hearing Linda Ronstadt records playing from your older sister’s room (the one she shared with your mom), or the ceaseless sound of the air conditioning unit buzzing away in the window of your room (the one you shared with your other older sister). Barton just felt too… Good for you. But, it was as your mother had told you: it was an opportunity that you could not afford to pass up. 

You didn’t have a lot to unpack, and you hung up your clothes as you chewed your lip. For some reason, the interaction outside the chapel was sticking with you. Not Teddy, although he certainly had made himself hard to forget. No, you were thinking about Angus Tully, apparently the head asshole of Assholedom. You would be seeing him tomorrow too, for the first day of classes, in Hunham’s Ancient Civ class. You had never taken a class like that— your old school didn’t even offer the Advanced Placement program, so obnoxiously pretentious classes like that were out of your realm of understanding— and you were almost worried that you would flunk right out. 

You tossed and turned all night, dreading sunrise and morning. Breakfast was served at 7, and classes began at 8, beginning with Precalc for you, then transitioning into Biology. After third period free, you had Ancient Civ, then an hour for lunch, then Home Ec, then your last few hours of the school day were reserved for something that, on the fax paper that you had been given at the front office, was called “Secretarial Studies”. You hated to think what that meant (surely, Barton wasn’t trying to prime you for being a secretary and nothing more), but mostly, it meant that your school day basically ended earlier than for others. 

You awoke early, showered and scrubbed yourself clean (the water pressure in the shower was better than the fourth floor apartment that you used to deal with), and you dressed yourself in what you hoped was becoming of a Barton girl. The dress had initially been purchased as an outfit for special chapel occasions, Christmas and Easter or whatever, but you knew that your regular jeans and wrinkled t-shirt wouldn’t be enough for your new shiny academy. 

Once again, as you entered the cafeteria for breakfast, you felt all eyes on you. You scanned the room for an empty seat (you didn’t fail to spot Angus Tully, sitting at the cornermost table, not conversing with everyone else) and sighed when you saw an open chair right next to Teddy Kountze. He spotted you and waved, and you made your way over. 

“Hey there,” Teddy said. “How was your first night?” 

“Fine,” you shrugged noncommittally. “Kinda quiet, though.” 

“Yeah, nobody else in the whole building,” Teddy sighed. “No roommates or anything; that must be nice.”

“Nah, not really,” you replied. “I got used to my mom and my sisters, and it was just too quiet. Not nearly enough chaos for me.” 

“How many sisters do you have?” A boy across the table from you asked. 

“Two,” you said. “Both older. And my mom lived with us too, so there was always something going on.”

“Shit, for sure,” the boy said. “Are you gonna join any clubs while you’re here? Or sports or something?” 

You didn’t exactly love the way that the boy said that. “While you’re here”. Like you weren’t going to stay at Barton for very long. “I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I’ve never really been a sporty type. I might see if the yearbook needs help or something.” 

“You could join chess club,” the boy laughed, and Teddy (and pretty much everyone else at the table) laughed too. 

“Why? What’s so funny about chess club?” you asked. 

“Nothing,” Teddy sighed as he finished laughing. “Except that Tully’s ugly mug is there.” 

“Tully?” you repeated. “Angus?” 

“Do you know him?” a different boy at the table asked. 

“No, not at all,” you said quickly. “Just… Heard some stuff about him, that’s all. How he’s apparently a douche.” 

“You’ll see,” Teddy assured you. “In class, try to challenge him on something. See how he reacts, and you’ll get why we all hate him.” 

You wrinkled your nose at the thought, but decided to not let it bother you. You made your way to class, hanging close behind Teddy and not really listening to him as much as you were admiring the school building. It was so… Old. So was your old school, but Barton was beautifully old, whereas Central was just old. Dark, shiny wood everywhere, framed oil paintings of people; it was a feat. You finally separated from Teddy when you reached the classroom for Precalc, and you hesitantly stepped in. A handful of guys were there, sitting on their desks and chatting, and the room fell dead as you stepped inside. You hazarded a small smile, and quickly made your way to the back of the room, your preferred spot in any classroom, but you were stopped in your tracks. 

Angus Tully. He sat in the back corner, close to the window, his tie loose and crooked around his neck. He was looking out the window, but his eyes slid over to you as you approached the desk beside him. 

“Hi,” you said gently. “Can I… Um, can I sit here?” 

Angus shrugged, as if he didn’t care, and you slung your bag across the back of the seat before you settled yourself down. You tapped your fingers on the desktop for a moment, wondering what the next course of action was, and you mumbled out, “I-I heard you were in chess club?” 

“Yeah,” Angus grunted out. “What about it?” 

“Oh, nothing,” you said, anxiously smoothing your skirt on your thigh. “Just, umm… I was wondering if there was, like… If you guys were open to new members.” 

“Probably,” Angus said simply. 

You nodded slowly, waiting for his next words, but they never came. “Right,” you said softly. “Okay.” 

To your disappointment, Angus Tully and you shared every class together, except for your free period and Home Ec. His demeanor never changed a single bit throughout the day, sullen and curt. He didn’t speak during class, didn’t answer questions or even seem as if he was paying attention. It was odd. You were thinking about it as you settled into a desk in the back of the Ancient Civ classroom, and you yourself were hardly paying attention to the teacher, a one Mr. Hunham, until he called your name. “Miss?” he said, and you lifted your cheek out of your hand. “Would you like to introduce yourself?” 

You blinked a few times, your face positively burning hot, and you cleared your throat. “I’m sure you all know my name by now,” you began. “Know that I went to a public school in Boston, got in here on a lottery and a scholarship… I guess there’s not much else to know about me.” 

“Have you ever studied ancient civilizations before, Miss?” Mr. Hunham asked. He seemed well-meaning, if maybe a little sarcastic. 

“No,” you told him. 

“Any experience with Latin?” Mr. Hunham asked next. 

You deflated. Shit. This was that sorta school? “No,” you said, a little quieter this time. 

“Well, that’s alright,” Mr. Hunham said. “We’ll catch you up to speed. Now, gentlemen— Ah, and lady— let’s open our books to the first chapter.” 

All during class, you felt hot tears pricking at your eyes. You were humiliated. All these words and names that everyone else seemed to know, and you had no fucking clue what any of it meant. It was all Greek to you— Latin, actually, but that didn't matter. As Mr. Hunham was mid-sentence about some sort of war, the bell to end the class sounded throughout the room, and you instantly closed your textbook and began to shove it into your bag. “Read the rest of the section tonight!” Mr. Hunham called over the sounds of your classmates packing up and chattering. “There will be a quiz on Friday!” 

You shouldered your bag and tried to avoid eyes as you skated out of the room, but a voice saying your name held you back. You hoped your eyes weren’t red as you turned to see Angus standing limply in the hallway. He had stayed quiet during Mr. Hunham’s class too, sitting again in the back corner, and you had managed to forget about him as you wallowed in shame. “Yeah?” you asked. 

Angus carefully walked closer to you, and he said, “The library has tutors sometimes. If you need help with Latin.” 

“Oh,” you said softly. “Thanks. I just… Didn’t know people still spoke that.” 

“Not really, it’s a dead language,” Angus said. “But it’s helpful sometimes in classes. A lot of Ivy League schools have Latin courses that are required.” 

“Well, thank God I’m not going to an Ivy League school,” you chuckled mirthlessly. “I’ll be lucky if community college takes me.” 

“You go to Barton, colleges will be fighting for you to go there,” Angus shrugged. 

“But I’m not somebody,” you protested. “I’m not a senator’s kid, my dad isn’t a CEO, like… I just go here.” 

“But the name is good enough for schools to want you,” Angus said. “They want the prestige, that’s all.” 

You thought on it for a moment, and you mumbled, “Thanks, Angus. I’ll, um… See you tomorrow.” 

The whole first week of classes progressed at a snail’s pace. Every day was torturous— all of your classes, except for Ancient Civ, were easy. Home Ec was a complete wash, since you already knew how to sew and cook, and Secretarial Studies was just as you had feared: teaching you to type, mostly, but nevertheless skills needed to do office work. You were a little offended; you were the only student in the class, which was helmed by the front office manager Ms. Crane. Obviously the boys didn’t have to take this class, so what was Barton trying to say? 

Finally, it was Friday night. Your dorm building was quiet again, and, even though they had provided a rec room with a radio and a few bookshelves, there wasn’t too much for you to do. You curled a loose thread from your sweater around your finger as you considered your next move, and you sighed as you grabbed your keys and shuffled into your shoes. 

You pushed your way into the boy’s dorm, and there was a palpable change in energy. The lights seemed brighter, the air thicker, sounds coming from all manner of places. Some doors were open, the residents standing and chatting, and you could distantly hear the sound of a television playing somewhere on the first floor. Much livelier, more lived in; you wished you could have been placed there instead. You followed the sound of the television down the hall, past the chatting boys, and you noticed how conversations paused as you passed by. You despised that. 

The door to the rec room was wide open, and you peeked in nervously. The television was playing some rerun of Gilligan’s Island, and boys were scattered to all corners of the room. Some played pool, some sat on the couches, some stood by the open window and smoked, but everything seemed to stop as you crossed the threshold. You made your way to an empty section of the couch and sat down, grinding your teeth as boys young and old watched you. You sighed, and you said, “What’s going on?”

The boy next to you, some kid that you knew was in your Bio class but didn’t know his name, frowned. “Huh?” he asked.

You jerked your head towards the television. “The show,” you said. “What’s happening?” 

“Oh,” the boy said, and everyone resumed their conversations. “Umm, don’t you have a TV in your dorm?” 

“Just a radio,” you said with a shake of your head. “What episode is this?” 

The boy shrugged. “Wasn’t really paying attention,” he said. 

You bunched your mouth up and sighed again, and you stood up. You could sense the disappointment as you left the rec room, but you couldn’t stand being in there any longer. You knew that being ogled at came with the territory of being the only girl at a boys’ school, but you couldn’t imagine it would have been anything like this. You slipped your hand into the pocket of your jeans and found a few errant coins in there, leftover from some excursion from God knows how long ago, and you started up to the second floor. In your building, there was a bank of phones on the second floor, and it made sense to you that this building would be the same. 

Luckily, you were right. There was just as much business on the second floor as on the first, but the little phone bank was a calm corner. You sighed and examined the phone for a moment, trying to find the slot to put your dime, and you frowned. What the fuck?

“Just dial nine, and then the number you wanna call.” 

You jumped in fright. “Jesus Christ!” you seethed, whipping around to see Angus. He sat in a shadow of the phone bank, a book in one hand and a half-eaten apple in the other. He looked a little more casual than he did in class, his tie gone and shirt unbuttoned one or two to show the top of his undershirt. Still looked a little Grim Reaper in the face, though. “You scared the shit outta me.” 

Angus huffed a short laugh through his nose. “Thought you saw me,” he said. 

“I did not,” you mumbled. “Where’s the coin slot?” 

“These aren’t payphones,” Angus told you. “Just dial nine for a non-school number, then dial away.” 

You drew in a deep breath and shoved your dime back in your pocket, and you picked up the phone and started to rotate the dial, starting with nine, then going for your family’s apartment number. You felt Angus’s gaze seering on your back, and you cradled the phone to your shoulder as it rang. “Do you mind?” you asked. 

“Do I mind what?” Angus asked. 

“Scram, man,” you sighed. “I’m trying to call my mom, and I don’t want you listening to it.” 

“Well, you shouldn’t have come to a public phone if you wanted a private conversation,” Angus said, and you tilted your head at him in annoyance. “Doesn’t Blackwell have a phone bank?”

“Yeah,” you said. “But I didn’t wanna use it.” 

“So you came here instead,” Angus said. “I think you like the attention.” 

You swallowed thickly, anger tepid but starting to rise. “You don’t know me at all,” you bit at him. 

“Why’d you come to this building to make your call if you knew that every guy would stop to stare at your ass?” Angus asked. “You knew that. You’ve been here a week, you know by now that you attract attention. I think you like it, but you can’t admit it because you have that whole quiet mystery girl thing going on.”

“Fuck off, Tully,” you mumbled. “I’m not here to be some goddamn puzzle for you to solve. And I’m not gonna fuck you if you figure out my backstory, so just go away.”    

“Who said anything about fucking?” Angus asked smugly. 

You glared at him and that stupid crooked smirk on his face. “Stop staring at my ass first and we might get somewhere,” you told him lowly, just in time for the call to pick up. 

“Hello?” your mother said, and you sighed in relief. 

“Mom, thank God,” you laughed lightly. “You took so long to answer, I was worried nobody was there.”

“Oh, no, pumpkin, I’m here,” your mom told you. “I was just in the shower.”

“Is Rachel not home?” you asked. “Or Anna?” 

“Rach is at work,” your mom told you. “She picked up extra hours at Neiman Marcus. She thinks they might promote her to manager at the end of the year.”

“Oh, wow,” you mumbled. “Good for her. And Anna?” 

“Started taking night classes,” your mom said. “She started on Monday too.” 

“Cool,” you chuckled. “What’re you doing tonight? I think ABC is showing some sort of movie—”

“I’m going on a date,” your mom said, and your mouth went dry. 

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Like… With a guy?” 

“Yes,” your mom said carefully. “He’s nice, I met him at work. He’s taking me to a movie and dinner.” 

“That’s…” you started. “Cool, Mom. Good for you.”

“What about you?” your mom asked. “Surrounded by all those boys, there has to be someone who’s caught your eye.” 

You sighed. Your lip trembled, and you closed your eyes. You were acutely aware that Angus was still sat behind you, and the fact that you hadn’t heard his book turn in a few minutes meant that he was absolutely listening to your phone call, the little shit. “No, not really,” you said. “Everyone here is either too rich, too smart, or too… Asshole-ish. Some are even all three.” You made a point to turn your head towards Angus, and you heard his little huffing laugh before you turned back to the phone. 

“Oh, well,” your mom said. “Maybe you’ll find someone. How are classes?” 

“Fine, I guess,” you said. “I’m taking a class about ancient civilizations, and apparently I missed the class where they teach Latin, so I’m sorta lost. And Home Ec sucks because I already know how to do all that. And they’re making me take something about how to be a secretary, and that’s so infuriatingly sexist that it makes me angry.”

“It’s a bunch of men, in charge of a bunch of boys,” your mom sighed. “They’re trying their best to adapt to you.” 

“I can’t even take gym class because they don’t have a place for me to change clothes,” you lamented. “Not that I wanna take gym anyway, but you see why I’m upset!” 

“I know, pumpkin, it’s okay,” your mom said. 

“Why would they go coed if they can’t even integrate girls in properly?” you sighed. “I wish I had just stayed home and gone to Central. Would’ve saved me a lot of trouble.” 

“You’ll be alright, you’re still just adjusting,” your mom assured you. “But… If, by Christmas, you still don’t feel like you belong there, I’ll pull you out and you can go back to Central. But I have to know by Thanksgiving, so I can start the paperwork in time for spring semester”

“Sure,” you said. “That sounds good to me.” 

“Alright, baby,” your mom said. “Richard will be here any minute, and I have to finish getting ready. I’ll be at work until 4 tomorrow, but call any time after, okay? I love you so much.”

“Love you too,” you mumbled, and you held the plastic phone by your face as you listened to your mother hang up and the dial tone drone. After a moment, you hung the phone back up on the hook, and you readied yourself for Angus’s petty insults as you turned to leave the phone bank. But they never came. You eyed him, sitting there on the wooden bench, his dark eyes focused on yours, and you snapped, “What?” 

“Nothing,” Angus said lightly, sliding back into the darkened corner and picking up his book. “Nothing at all.” 

That was your weekly exercise. Week in and week out, all you did was classes. You wanted to avoid as many interactions with the others as possible, so you stayed quiet during class, kept to yourself, didn’t accept invites to parties or football games or to sit at lunch tables. You took to having lunch with Ms. Crane in the front office, and she seemed to commiserate with you about all the boys. “Some of these kids are real stinkers,” she told you. “But they’re teenage boys. I think it’s a law that they have to be.”

Your saving grace was the deal you had made with your mom. If you could just wait until Christmas break, you could go back to your old school, to your old friends, and you could forget about the hell that was Barton. You kept your grades up, so that Central could see that you hadn’t turned into some kind of slacker, and you consistently got B’s and A’s in your classes. Except for Ancient Civ. 

The exam booklet slapped down on your desk, a red F blazoned across the front. You sighed and started to thumb through it, trying to figure out where you went wrong as the other boys also realized their grades were low, and your heart sank when you saw all of the multiple choice questions without a flaw. So it was your essay question that led you astray. On the very last page of the booklet, you found your essay, handwritten yesterday on something about ancient philosophers, and a red note in Mr. Hunham’s handwriting. See me after class. 

You could hardly pay attention to the conversation between Teddy and Mr. Hunham. Your mind was racing, wondering what he wanted to talk to you about. You should have gotten a perfect score, but something held that back. Surely he didn’t think you had cheated? Or copied someone else’s work? You thought that you and Mr. Hunham got along (as well as any student can get along with their strict, hardass teacher) and your heart sank at the thought that you had definitely somehow disappointed him. 

“... Offer a makeup exam” got your head out of the clouds, and you focused on Mr. Hunham at his podium. “You’ll all get a second run at this after break.” The class muttered and mumbled, only to be cut through by Mr. Hunham’s next words: “Of course, it will not be the same exam. You will now be responsible for new material as well. Your grade will be an average of the two.” 

As Mr. Hunham instructed the class to open their books to a new chapter, you were shocked, along with everyone else, when Angus spoke. “No offense, sir,” he began, and you sucked in a breath. You had learned that, whenever any of the boys at Barton didn’t intend offense, that offense was certainly on its way. “But is this really the best time to be starting a new chapter? I mean, we all appreciate the, uh, makeup exam gesture… But our families are here.” 

You rolled your eyes. Speak for yourself, Tully. Your mom had to work that day, as did both of your sisters, and you gotten instruction to take a Greyhound into Boston and someone would meet you at the bus station to bring you home. It wasn’t exactly the best plan, but it was what worked. Your mom had arranged with Barton to let you back on campus during break to empty your dorm room, and you sighed a thing of relief. Almost done. You were so close to leaving Barton in your dust and washing your hands of the entire school. 

“Most teachers have already canceled class,” Angus continued. “We have chapel in forty minutes, then we’re out of here. I mean, our heads are elsewhere.” 

“And where exactly is your head, Mr. Tully?” Mr. Hunham asked, and Angus shrugged. 

“Uh, I don’t know. St. Kitts.” 

Jesus. Of course Angus Tully was going to fuckin’ St. Kitts for Christmas. You would be lucky if your family could afford to have the heat turned on for Christmas. 

Your annoyance turned to dire anger when Mr. Hunham decided to scrap the idea of a makeup exam and dismissed the class without another word. You hurried to shove your exam booklet in your bag, and you glared at Angus as you edged out of your row. “Thanks a lot, dick,” you mumbled, then left the room, not even waiting to see Angus’s response. Your heart raced as you tailed Mr. Hunham, and you finally called his name as he approached the door to his private office. 

“Ah, Miss,” Mr. Hunham chuckled. “Yes, yes, let’s sit down and discuss your exam.” 

“I-I didn’t do anything wrong,” you said hurriedly as he unlocked the office door. “I didn’t cheat or plagiarize, you didn’t even mark off any points. I don’t understand why I failed.” 

Mr. Hunham said nothing as he led you into his office, and you wrinkled your nose. God, it smelled bad in there. Nevertheless, you sat down in one of the chairs across from his desk, and you waited with bated breath as he sat down in his seat. He examined you for a moment, for long enough for you to start to feel weird under his walleyed gaze, and, finally, he said, “In actuality, Miss, you didn’t fail. You got the highest score in the class.” 

“B-But I got an F…” you protested. “Angus Tully got a B!”

“I wrote an F on your paper, but you actually got a 98,” Mr. Hunham told you. “Near-perfect score, I only took off in your essay question for misspelling ‘Periclean’.” 

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Then, why’d you write an F on my paper?” 

“Because I was disappointed in you,” Mr. Hunham said. You felt sick. Your skin was hot and your stomach roiled, and hot tears pricked at your eyes. “I heard from Ms. Crane that you were leaving Barton.” 

You nodded silently. 

“And why is that?” Mr. Hunham asked. 

You sighed. “I miss my old school,” you admitted with a thick throat. “My old friends. Nobody likes me here, and I… Just think I’d be better off back home. I’m not a Barton person.” 

“What is a Barton person to you, Miss?” Mr. Hunham asked. His hands were clasped at his chin, his bifocals in his fist. He seemed genuinely concerned about you. 

“Someone not me,” you said. “Rich… Smart… Important. All those guys are gonna go to good colleges, and I’m gonna be stuck waiting tables my whole life.”

“You are smart, Miss,” Mr. Hunham told you. “You passed all your classes with flying colors, you made Latin look like a piece of cake. If you wanted to, you could go to any college in the country. Or the world!”

“I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for that stupid lottery,” you mumbled. “I don’t belong here, sir, we both know that.” 

Mr. Hunham fixed his mouth in a thin line and sighed, and he said, “Of course. Well, I do hate to see you go. Your essay on the siege of Troy was… Very good.” 

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “Umm, have a nice Christmas, I guess… See you around.” 

Chapel that day felt exactly the opposite to your first chapel at Barton. The dread that had filled the air at the beginning of the semester had now changed to an excitement about going back home, and, even though you still felt like everybody was staring at you, you couldn’t shake the feeling. You were done. You had made it. After you moved during break, you’d never have to lay an eye on Barton or any of those boys ever again. You had to admit that you were going to miss Ms. Crane, and maybe even Mr. Hunham too, but the positives far outweighed the negatives. 

After chapel let out, you hurried back to Blackwell Hall and grabbed your suitcase and changed out of your nice dress, and you made your way to the front of campus, where a Greyhound bus sat, waiting to take kids into the city. You stepped on board, taking a seat towards the back of the bus, and you looked out the window at one last gaze at Barton Academy. Although, you couldn’t admire the architecture or the pretty way the snow glistened in the midday sun. No, you could only see the tall, lanky, dark-haired kid standing on the steps of the chapel, waiting for someone. 

Even though you despised Angus Tully and didn’t really care if he lived or died, it was a sad sight to see him waiting like that. He looked so dismayed and forlorn, his suitcase at his feet, his hands in the pockets of his winter jacket. Maybe in another world, you and Angus could have been friends. Your mind wandered, thinking of meeting Angus somewhere else— your mind conjured the image of a bookstore, reaching for the same book and having a little back and forth on who should have it, before Angus acquiesced, but not before writing his phone number in the book. 

The rumble of the bus nearly lulled you asleep on the two and a half hour drive to Boston, and you roused yourself as the bus pulled into the station. Gathering your things, you departed, along with a handful of other Barton boys. They quickly found their families that were waiting on them, and you wandered through the station. Your mother hadn’t indicated who would be picking you up, or where in the station to meet them, and you made your way to a payphone. You were sure she was at work, but you wondered if you could call the restaurant and ask for her. Before you could put your dime in the phone, though, you heard your name being called, and you looked to see an older man smiling at you from across the room. 

Fear flashed hot in your face, but you kept your composure as the man approached you. “Hey, you look just like how your mom described you,” he laughed. “I’m Rich.” 

“Who?” you asked. 

“Rich,” he repeated. “I’ve been seeing your mother for a few months. She’s working the afternoon shift, and your sisters are both busy, so your mom asked me to get you.” 

“Oh,” you nodded. “Right, yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“You seem tired,” Rich told you. “Long day?” 

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” you chuckled. “I’m just glad to be done with Barton, that place can go to hell.” 

“I thought Barton was a boys’ school,” Rich mumbled. 

“It’s a long story,” you sighed. “But whatever, that’s in my rearview now.” 

“Alright,” Rich said. He seemed confused, but he took up your suitcase for you. “We already put fresh sheets on the pullout, so when we get back, you can take a nap if you want—”

“The pullout?” you repeated. “Am I not sleeping in my room?” 

Rich winced. “Ah, well,” he began. “You see, my daughter is sleeping there, and—”

“Your—” you started. “Why is she in my room?” 

“The bed was vacant,” Rich shrugged. “She’s lived there for a few months now.”

“And why is your daughter living with my mom?” you asked. “Do you… Did you move in?” 

“Well, when your mother and I got married, we figured it was the logical thing to do.” 

Your heart nearly stopped. Married. Your mother had gotten married, and hadn’t told you a single thing about it. No wedding invite, no pictures, not even a ‘hey, Rich and I are getting hitched!’ You felt sick and lightheaded, and you tried to take a steadying breath. It just sounded all shaky and unsure, though, and it made you feel even worse. “I, uh…” you began. “I…” 

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” Rich asked, and the camel’s back broke. Nobody can call you that but your mom. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” you asked. “Rolling in here, doing all this bullshit, and for what? Are you trying to prove something? Win an award or what? Let’s see how quickly we can marry the single mom, that’ll go down great with her three adult children!” 

“Rachel and Anna said they were okay with it,” Rich said. 

“But you didn’t ask me!” you cried. “God, this is exactly what she wanted, huh, throw me in a boarding school and forget all about me? Fuck this, I don’t need this.” You snatched your bag from Rich and turned on your heel quickly, and you didn’t even hesitate when Rich called “Where are you going?” 

“Anywhere but here!” 

You begged and pleaded with the Greyhound driver to take you back to Barton. He said that he had to stick to a schedule and was really sorry, but he changed his tune when you dug into your bag and grabbed your pocketbook, pulling out a few 20s. You didn’t have a lot of money in the first place, and watching those bills go in his pocket hurt, but, in the end, you got back to Barton just as the sun was starting to set. You knew that whoever was staying over break would be shocked to see you (maybe even elated, depending on who it was), but you didn‘t care about reactions. You just didn’t want to think at that moment. 

You followed the low din of boyish muttering to the cafeteria, and you steeled your nerves for entering. You could discern only two voices, maybe a third if you listened through the thick door hard enough, and you quickly pushed on the metal handle in the middle of the door to slam the door open. 

Heads whipped towards you. You didn’t recognize a lot of them— some younger kids, and a guy that was on the football team and was a senior— and your heart sank into your stomach when you saw Teddy Kountze sitting at the dinner table. So you would be spending Christmas break with Teddy. Great. 

But the bad feeling got worse when you saw who was sitting one seat down from Teddy. Angus fucking Tully. He stared at you with no joy or humor in his eyes, and you huffed out a breath. 

“Miss?” Your gaze went to the head of the table, and a little bit of relief washed over you as you saw the face of Mr. Hunham. Was he supervising the holdovers? “What’re you…?” 

“Got room for one more?” you mumbled, approaching the table and securing the seat between Teddy and Angus. You instantly reached for the serving dishes, wanting anything to occupy your shaking hands, and you slowed to a stop as you noticed the whole table staring at you; even Angus wasn’t trying to hide it, his black eyes as big as dinner plates. “What?” you barked, and the energy resumed at the table in a snap. 

Dinner was finished soon after, and Mr. Hunham pulled you into the hall as the boys were cleaning up. “I thought you were going home to Boston for the holiday?” he asked gently. 

“I can’t…” you started. “It seems like I don’t even have a place in my own family.” 

“What do you mean?” Mr. Hunham asked. 

“My mom got married without telling me,” you told him. “And the guy and his daughter moved into our apartment, which could barely fit me and my mom and sisters in the first place, and now they’re there, a-and she’s in my room! That fucking bitch is in my room, and I-I—” 

“Easy, easy,” Mr. Hunham said, putting his hand out to placate you. “Calm down. Listen, I understand that this is hard, it’s awful, but resorting to that is not what’s going to help you. We’ll find a place here for you tonight, and tomorrow we can call your mother and try to get this straightened out.” 

“Can I not go to my dorm?” you asked. 

“The school shut off heating and plumbing everywhere except the main building,” Mr. Hunham explained. “We’re sleeping in the infirmary.” 

“Jesus Christ,” you huffed. You were so angry that you could kick something. “So now I gotta bunk up with them?” 

“It’s definitely not ideal,” Mr. Hunham mumbled. “But it’s just for one night. We can put up a partition, if that would make you more comfortable.” 

“Fuck it, whatever,” you sighed. Your eyes hurt, and a headache was starting to throb at your skull, and you said, “I don’t care.” 

The boys were split into two rooms, the youngers (and Angus) in one, and Teddy and Jason in the other. The only other empty bed was in Teddy and Jason’s room, and you were quick to settle in and start off for the bathroom. Just as you were leaving, though, a beanpole in a white shirt and flannel pajama pants stopped you in the doorway. 

“Hey,” Angus said curtly. “Where’re you going?” 

“Shower,” you told him. “Brush my teeth, stuff like that.” 

“Why did you come back?” Angus asked. “A little birdy told me that you were quitting Barton.” 

“I…” you started. You wanted to tell him everything, but you were worried about the leverage he’d have if he knew. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.” 

“Nah, I think it is,” Angus said with narrowed eyes. “We know why everybody is holding over. His parents are on a mission trip, his family is in Korea, Kountze The Cunt’s having his house remodeled, and Jason’s dad is waiting for him to cut his hair. Why’re you here?”

“Why’re you here, Angus?” you asked. “I thought you were going to St. Barts or St. Kitts or something.” 

“Obviously not,” Angus said quickly. 

“Then, I’m obviously not quitting Barton,” you said, and instantly regretted it. “I might be… Haven’t decided yet.” 

“What, don’t you like it here?” Angus asked. “Isn’t it a glorious beacon of education and brotherhood—” He stopped himself, dramatically clenching his fist in front of his face. “Oh, that’s right. Brotherhood.” 

“Shut up,” you huffed. 

“C’mon, man, leave her alone,” you heard Jason start from the room behind you, but Angus either didn’t hear or didn’t care.

“You left, and then came back,” Angus said. “What’s wrong? Mommy decided she didn’t want you anymore?” 

You couldn’t help yourself from letting your tears spill over your lashes, and you clenched your teeth. Angus held your eye contact for longer than you thought he would, and he only averted his eyes when your tears gathered at the corner of your mouth. You drew in a shaking breath, aware that everybody was staring at you, watching you cry, and you sniffled and left the room without another word. The showers were empty, and you jerked the handle to start the water, then locked the door to the room. 

Your tears flowed freely then, and you sat on the tile floor and sobbed into your hands. You hoped that Angus could hear you crying from down the hall, and you hoped that he felt bad about his words. Knowing him, though, he had forgotten about you as soon as you left his eyeline. 

By the time you finished your crying and your shower, the lights were off in both the rooms, a soft snoring coming from Teddy and Jason’s (and your) room. Your pajamas didn’t feel like they were enough for the cold in the infirmary, and you edged by the snoring Teddy in his bed to get to yours. The sheets were crinkly and dry and rough, and you bundled the wool blanket up to your chin as you tried to sleep. 

That was destroyed, though, when you heard a “Psst!” come from the doorway. 

You sighed. “Fuck off, Angus,” you mumbled sleepily. 

“Just— Can I—?” Angus huffed. “I’m trying to apologize to you.” 

“I don’t want your fuckin’ apology,” you said. “Just leave me alone.” 

“I shouldn’t have said that to you,” Angus whispered. “I was… Out of line. Or projecting or something, I don’t know. My mom and stepdad went to St. Kitts, but uninvited me so they could celebrate their honeymoon. I guess I’m just familiar with how it feels to not be wanted.” 

You sighed and rolled over to face the doorway, and you settled yourself up on your elbows. “Can you just…” you started. “Think before you speak? I know it doesn’t really seem to matter to you, but sometimes, words hurt. Like, really hurt.” 

“I know,” Angus mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“You really have to work on not being a huge asshole,” you told him. “You know, nobody here likes you. They all call you names and shit.” 

“I know,” Angus said. “I don’t care. But you’ve gotta try to not be so judgmental. I think you write off everyone here because we’re from different tax brackets. Some of us don’t have it easy.” 

You pressed your lips together. “Fair enough,” you said finally. “I’ll, um… Keep that in mind.” 

“Alright,” Angus said. “Good night, then.”

“‘Night,” you said, and you watched Angus stalk out of the doorway and back to his room. You sat for a few moments more, thinking about how easily Angus had read your thoughts, and you wondered if the other boys could see right through you as easily. You were almost humiliated all over again at the thought that everyone could read you like that, but it didn’t matter. When the morning came, you’d call your mother and work out whatever the problem was, and you would be home in Boston by the next night. 

It didn’t work out that way. You called your mother twice in the morning; the first time, she didn’t pick up the phone, and the second, she would hardly talk to you. “Mom, I just wanna know what happened,” you pleaded. “Why didn’t you tell me? I-I would’ve been supportive!”

“Would you?” your mother asked. 

“Yes!” you sighed. “I wouldn’t have been happy, but I would’ve accepted it if you were happy!” 

“Then, why can’t you accept it now?” she asked. 

“Because you didn’t tell me!” you replied. “You didn’t ask me how I felt about it, if I wanted it to happen, if I even like the guy—  I hadn’t even met him once before you did it!” You paused, chewing your lip, and you said, “Mom. Tell me the truth. Are you pregnant?” 

“No, pumpkin, I’m not,” she sighed, but you could tell she was nearing her wit’s end. 

“Is that why you hurried to marry him?” you asked. “I-I’m telling you, I don’t care that you got married, I’m just upset because you didn’t tell me!” 

“Okay, stop,” your mom said firmly. “I thought you’d be happy for me, baby.” 

Anger flared in your stomach. “Dad hasn’t even been gone for a full year yet,” you mumbled. “And you’re already replacing him.” 

“We all mourn differently, pumpkin,” she said. “I’m sorry that you can’t see that Rich makes me happy. I... I don’t feel lonely with him.”

“Well,” you sighed. “If this is how you mourn Dad, I don’t think I wanna come home. I think I’ll stay at Barton.” 

“Where are you gonna go after the holiday ends?” your mom asked. 

“Staying here,” you said plainly. “I can personally go up to Central and withdraw my paperwork over break. If you want to erase me and my father from your life so bad, then you’ve got your fuckin’ wish.” You slammed the phone back on the receiver with shaking hands, and you turned to leave the front office, only to run straight into— 

“Fuck off, Angus,” you sniffled, side-stepping him and starting down the hall, back to the infirmary. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Angus said quickly, snatching your wrist in his hand and tugging you back. “What happened? Are you going home?”

“No,” you sighed. “I’m staying here. I never wanna see any of them again.” 

“You said something about your dad…” Angus mumbled. “Is that true? Your dad’s dead?” 

You wiped at your eyes, and your chest went hot. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumbled. 

Angus sighed, and, for once, he did something nice for you. He pulled you into an embrace, not too tight but not so loose that it felt like he didn’t care, and you pressed your cheek into his shoulder. “My dad’s dead too,” Angus whispered. “You don’t have to talk about it, but… I sorta get it.” 

You sniffled again, and you finally let your arms wrap around Angus’s thin body. You sat in silence for a moment, hugging each other, and you only parted when you heard a small scuttle from down the hall, near the infirmary door. Your head turned to see the youngest kid, Alex, standing, watching you two, and you stepped away from Angus and wiped your face. “Guess I’m staying,” you mumbled. 

“Guess so,” Angus echoed. 

The days were monotonous. Hunham would wake you up when the sun rose with a declaration of “It’s daylight in the swamp!”, and you would go through the routine of studying, then exercise, then more studying, then a little bit of free time. In the absence of gym class for months, the exercising was a little difficult, and you were left exhausted and panting every time, and you felt awkward with the guys around. However, after that brief moment with Angus, he had started to be… Better. He was still a dick most times, but he would do little things for you now; pass you the lunch dishes instead of sliding them in your direction, offer to sharpen your pencil during study time. It seemed that finding a similarity had broken his shell for you a bit, and you appreciated it. 

You had taken to helping the cook with meals. Mary Lamb was a good woman that you had minimally interacted with (she had come and given a lesson in Home Ec about cooking, which really nobody paid attention to, but you had made a point to), and you felt a special kinship with her because of her Curtis. She was the only one you told the truth about your father to, and you knew that Mary wouldn’t say anything to the others about it. She seemed as if she appreciated the help in the kitchen, especially from someone who was competent there like you were. You liked talking to Mary, hearing her stories and letting her hear yours. 

Just as you were starting to think that maybe break wouldn’t be all that terrible, less than a week into it, things changed. You shivered in the cold library, despite your sweater, and you tried to focus on the textbook in front of you, but it was nearly impossible. Angus was sitting next to you, and, every so often, his hand would inch out and he would doodle a little figure in the corner of your notebook. You rolled your eyes jokingly at him, trying not to laugh so Hunham wouldn’t fuss at you, and you shifted in your seat a bit to reach Angus’s notebook. You began to crudely sketch him, big dark eyes and messy hair, and he stifled a snort. Mean, he wrote underneath your sketch. 

Accurate, you countered. 

Before either of you could write anything else, there came an odd sound from outside. It was quiet at first, but it grew louder and louder, and you looked upwards, as if the ceiling of the library would allow for any sort of view of what the noise was. It was a loud chopping noise, growing ever louder and louder, drawing the attention of all of you, and even Hunham closed his book and said “What the hell is that?” 

But, from across the table, a smile grew on Jason’s face, a knowing grin, and, all at once, everybody stood from their seats and went to the window. You couldn’t see as well as the others, being shorter than everyone else, but Angus put a gentle hand on your side and pushed you in front of him, letting you get closer to the window. His hand, positioned just above your hip on your torso, made a shiver run down your spine, but you attributed it to the sight of a goddamn helicopter buzzing overhead, lowering itself onto the snowy, abandoned football field. “I knew it!” Jason exclaimed. “He finally caved, the big softie!” 

“What the fuck is that?” you asked quickly. 

“Jason’s dad owns a helicopter,” Angus explained under his breath as Jason pushed away from the window with excitement. 

“Any of you guys like to ski?” Jason called as he left the library, and the younger boys gasped with excitement. You all caught onto the idea at the same time, and the boys filed out, following Jason, but you stayed still at the window, watching the helicopter’s blades slow to a stop. 

“Miss?” Hunham asked, and you closed your eyes. “Aren’t you going with them?”

You shrugged, hoping to seem less hurt than you actually were. “I can’t,” you said. “I don’t have any skiing gear or whatever, I’ve never even done it before… And anyway, I’m not about to call my mom to ask for permission to do that.” 

You sat in the hallway outside the office as Hunham called all of the boys’ parents, being granted permission for the excursion, listening as each boy reacted with glee. It felt like a sick joke; of course you were left all alone again. Before you could ruminate on it for too long, the beanpole came and sat himself next to you, quiet as he scratched absently at his chin. 

“Want me to get you anything from up there?” Angus asked. “Fridge magnet or postcard or…?” 

You shook your head. “No,” you managed with a heavy, thick throat. “Thanks, though.” 

Angus sighed, his eyebrows furrowing together as his jaw tightened, and he tilted his head towards you. His dark eyes looked soft, kinder than you had ever seen from him or thought was capable, and he said, “Sorry.” 

You couldn’t help yourself. Your tears spilled and you clawed your fingernails into your palm, trying to stop from sobbing and heaving, and Angus moved closer to you, until his hip touched yours. He slung a skinny arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his body, his hand gently pressing into your head and ushering you to hide in his neck. He shushed you, whispering “If Hunham sees you crying, he’ll think I did it”, which did nothing other than make you laugh a little and sniffle hard. 

You quickly parted from Angus’s warmth, wiping your eyes with your hand and seeing your mascara smear on the back of your hand. “Gonna go to the bathroom…” you mumbled, and Angus nodded, keeping his seat as you stood up and hurried down the hall. The women’s bathroom next to the office was hardly used, only ever you, Ms. Crane, and the lone visitor using it, and you clutched the porcelain sink as you gasped for breath. Jesus Christ. Would anything ever go your way? Being stuck at Barton over the holidays with the other boys sucked, sure, but now you were all alone with Hunham and Mary. Alone again. You wondered if you’d always be alone. 

You ripped off a paper towel and dabbed at your eyes, trying to fix your makeup, and you pressed cold water to your face to try to calm yourself down. Fuck everything about this. It was unfair. Maybe Hunham would take it easy on you, loosen the reins a little. You trashed the paper towels and adjusted your sweater, trying to seem put-together, and you stepped out of the bathroom to see Hunham and Angus standing outside the office, embroiled in an intense conversation. “... Just one more time, please,” you heard Angus say, and Hunham put his hand up. 

“There’s no point,” Hunham said. “The front desk says they’re not answering. He says they’re away on some excursion.”

You started closer, and you watched Angus’s face fall, his eyes narrowing. He mumbled something under his breath, and Hunham harrumphed. “I’m as disappointed as you are, if not more so,” he said. “I could’ve been spending the rest of my vacation reading mystery novels.” 

“Angus?” you said, and he slid his eyes over to you. “Are you… What’s happening?” 

Angus shot Hunham a deathly look, and he side-stepped your teacher, brushing past you, his arm knocking your shoulder. You locked eyes with Hunham, then quickly turned and started off after Angus. His long legs had carried him down the hall quicker than you were capable of, and you sped up a bit. “Angus!” you called for him, and you finally came up on him at the door to the infirmary, taking his arm in your hand. “What’s going on?” 

“I’m staying here,” he said bitingly. “Mom and Stanley aren’t answering their phone.” 

On some level, you were glad Angus was staying. At least it wouldn’t be just you there. And you were glad it was Angus, as opposed to Teddy or someone else. “Oh,” you managed. “Well, umm…” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Angus said flatly. He leaned up against the doorway to the infirmary, listening to the other boys packing up, and he added, “In fact, I’d rather you didn’t say anything.” 

You sighed, flicking your eyebrows. “Got it,” you mumbled. Your eyes lifted from the floor to see Ye-Joon, bag in hand, and he softly bid Angus a happy holidays, giving you a curt smile as he edged out of the infirmary. Jason lightly touched Angus’s arm as he told him to take care, doing the same to you before he departed, and you made eye contact with Teddy as he shouldered his bag. He didn’t have his sights set on you, though; he spoke to Angus. 

“I guess that just leaves you and the chick, huh?” Teddy asked. “Be sure to do all your homework— and no funny stuff while we’re gone.” 

If you could have swung a punch at Teddy, you would have. All the boys at Barton were the exact fucking same— Secretarial Studies, sex jokes, it was never-ending and never-changing. You watched Angus’s neck go flushed, and Teddy added, “Oh, almost forgot! I found that picture you were looking for.” Quickly, he stuck a square Polaroid in Angus’s shirt pocket, and a smile crossed Teddy’s face. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Tully. You too, Miss. See you after break.” He winked at you, making your skin crawl, and he departed the room with a chuckle as Angus snatched the picture from his pocket. From your vantage point, you couldn’t see what it was, only the back that read HAPPY HOLIDAYS, but Angus’s mouth screwed up at it, and he flicked it down onto the ground. Your eyes followed it, and you saw a portrait of a family, a mom and dad and a boy, and you recognized the dark eyes and sunken features of the boy. But, in a blank space of the picture, in Teddy’s handwriting, an arrow pointed to the boy and declared “Fuckwad”. 

The cold was biting, even through your coat, as you stood on the football field and watched the boys load into the Smith’s helicopter. Your hands were deep in your pockets as you stared into space, wondering if it could get any worse. As the helicopter took off, the wind blew your hair back, and you watched as it rose, up, up, and away. A heavy energy fell over you three, and your teacher let out a heavy sigh. “Well, let’s make the best of it,” Hunham said, flat but trying to put fake life into his words. The look in Angus’s eyes was harsh enough to kill, and Hunham averted his gaze from him over to you, his two little wards, the holdovers. “Shall we?”

[zegrasdrysdale]

Could you write a smut with Ethan Edwards like after a bad game or something? Thankssss!!

[ make me forget ] e. edwards

paring : Ethan Edwards x fem!reader

summary : Ethan confides in his girlfriend after a rough loss in the Frozen Four

warning(s) : smut ! very much more love making than fucking, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), p in v sex, blowjob, use of nicknames during sex (pretty girl, baby, etc.), little bit of dirty talk

author’s note : waited until the umich season ended before i tackled this request because if they had lost in the frozen four (which they did), i thought it would be the perfect plot for this request. the way they lost was really rough so be prepared for sad ethan for a lil bit

༺═──────────────═༻

Her heart breaks when the final buzzer goes off. Boston College is quick to celebrate their four-to-nothing win over Michigan. Her eyes are on Ethan as he stands with Dylan and Tyler while the Duke boys shed some tears.

The tears that begin to fall down Ethan's cheeks while he stands with his teammates are her last straw. The tears that threatened to spill over onto her cheeks begin to roll. She quickly wipes them away so Ethan doesn't look over and see them.

All of the Michigan boys huddle near the bench as they watch another team move onto the finals for the third year in a row.

It breaks her heart that they have fought so hard for the past three years and no national title to show for it. They deserve it more than they know or realize at the moment.

Michigan shakes hands with Boston College at center ice before BC goes back to the locker room to celebrate the win. The Michigan boys raise their sticks for the last time this season, and for the last time for some of the boys. She shows her support by clapping and banging on the glass in front of her as they head down the tunnel.

Ethan looks at her as he waits to go down the tunnel. She shoots him a small smile that's mixed with fondness and sadness. If he smiles back at her, she can't see it because of the way his helmet sits on his head. His face is shiny and she can’t tell if it’s because he’s sweating or if it’s because he’s been crying.

Hopefully it’s because he’s been sweating because she doesn’t know if she can handle more tears from Ethan.

She makes her way to the hotel that she and the other girlfriends are staying at, which is also the hotel that the boys are staying at. None of them are really in the mood to hang around the arena to wait for their boyfriends.

Ethan knows her room number. It just might be a little bit because he comes knocking. He’s going to shower then spend some time with his teammates because this is the last time that Team 102 will be Team 102.

Some of his teammates are going to sign with their NHL team. She knows Frank is going to the NHL immediately like Luke did last year. He’ll sign within a day or two after they get back to Michigan. Dylan and Gavin have both said they’re probably going to sign with their teams too. A handful of other guys haven’t made an official decision yet but she’s sure that more will be leaving.

Then it’ll just be Ethan and Mark left from their class that came in almost four years ago.

Once she’s back in her hotel room that’s a few blocks from the arena, she finally relaxes. She pulls off the hat she was wearing as well as Ethan’s Michigan jacket. With a sigh, she flops onto her back on the bed.

If she’s feeling like this, she can’t even begin to imagine how the boys are feeling. It sucks that they’re not moving onto the finals after getting shutout. It especially sucks that it’s now three years in a row that they’ve made it to the Frozen Four and haven’t been to the finals.

Like she said, she can’t even begin to imagine how the boys are feeling after that game.

It’s nearly two hours after the game ends when there’s a very soft knock on her door. If she was sleeping or had in her AirPods then she wouldn’t have heard it. The TV is playing at a low volume so she was able to hear the knock.

When she swings the door open, she sees a very upset Ethan Edwards on the other side.

She pouts and pulls him into a hug, which pulls him into the room. The door swings shut behind Ethan. “I’m so sorry, Eddie,” she softly says into his ear. “I wish I could do something.”

“I know,” he replies. His voice is hoarse like all he’s been doing is crying. It breaks her heart a little more. “Needed to see you. I tried slipping away but coach made us stay for a little bit after we were all showered.”

She pulls back from the hug, leaving her arms draped around his neck. Ethan’s avoiding eye contact with her. It’s what he does when he’s upset.

When she pushes his hair out of his face, he leans down and puts his forehead on her shoulder. Her fingers find a home in his damp locks and holds him. His arms wrap around her waist.

“I’m so tired of feeling like this,” Ethan confesses after a few moments of silence. “It’s been three fucking years. First it was Denver, then it was Quinnipiac, and now it’s Boston College. Three years, three different teams. I’m tired.”

“I know, E,” she coos as she presses a kiss to his temple. “I can’t even begin to imagine how you feel. I know how rough it’s been for you and the guys.”

Ethan lifts his head up and finally looks at her. All she sees behind his eyes is sadness. She has to bite her lip from crying because his eyes are usually so bright. They are so dark right now.

“I have one more year,” he says. “One. I don’t think I can handle it if I’m in this position again next year. I probably won’t sign with the Devils this season so I can do this for one more year but I don’t think I can do this again. Feel like this again.”

She watches tears spill over his eyelids onto his cheeks. She dries his cheeks with her thumbs and gives him the smallest of smiles. “You’re going to lead your team to a national title next year as a senior, E,” she assures him. “It’s your year.”

Ethan nods without saying a word, but the way her eyes flicker to her lips tells her everything she needs to know. He grabs her hands off his face and loosely laces their fingers together.

“Can you do me a favor?” Ethan asks. She raises her eyebrows in confusion. “Can you just … help me forget for a little bit? I need to get my mind off of the last few hours.”

She blinks, not even surprised at his request. “Ethan, you are upset right now and you’re allowed to be,” she begins to say to him. “I just don’t want to take advantage of you since you’re not in the right mindset.”

He drops his forehead to hers. His eyes close. “Please, baby,” he whispers. “Make me forget. I need you to make me forget.”

It’s not like she was going to say no. She just needed to make sure it’s what he really wanted before she started something.

Ethan picks his head up and meets her eyes. She glances between them to make sure he’s okay before she pulls him down into a kiss.

The kiss starts out soft and slow but quickly turns rough and needy. Ethan’s hands rest on her sides and he lightly grips her waist so she can’t move away. Not that she was planning on going anywhere.

If Ethan wants her to help him forget the last few hours then she will.

She presses herself flush against Ethan’s chest and can feel the growing bulge against her thigh. Her fingers curl in his locks to keep him from breaking the kiss. She does walk forward a bit so Ethan’s back is pressed against the wall next to the door.

Her hands snake down from his hair and down his chest until they rest on the waistband of his dress pants. Ethan sucks her bottom lip between his teeth and pulls back, letting her lip snap back into place. She looks up at him and bites the same lip.

“You’re hot when you’re needy,” she tells Ethan as she begins to undo the button on his pants. “Just so you’re aware.”

“You’re hot all the time,” Ethan retorts as she finally gets the button undone. “Especially when you wear my clothes.” His comment confirms he saw her in his jacket during the game.

She just smiles at him and untucks his shirt from his pants before pulling him into another kiss.

Ethan pulls off the suit jacket he’s wearing and lets it fall to the floor. His hands come up to cup her jaw as he returns her kisses, each one getting needier and deeper.

After a few more kisses, she reluctantly pulls back. She notices how swollen and red his lips already are and she can’t help but smile at the sight of how disheveled he already looks.

Once she takes him all in, she sinks down to her knees in front of him. Ethan leans his head back and mumbles a “fuck” as she pulls his dress pants down so they pool around his ankles. His boxers are next and his semi pops out. Ethan ends up kicking the clothes away as well as his shoes.

She takes him in her hand and pumps him a few times. “Shit, baby,” Ethan breathes out. “You look so pretty on your knees for me.”

She sends him a smile before she wraps her lips around the reddening tip. Slowly, she takes his dick in her mouth and looks up at him. Ethan runs his fingers through her hair and pushes a loose piece behind her ear so her face is clear.

For once, she loves being able to do this for Ethan. He’s always focused on her pleasure and making sure that she is taken care of. She gets to return the favor. It’s not very often she gets to do this for him.

One of her hands rests on his thigh and the other slides up under his button-up. Her hand rests on his stomach for a moment before sliding as close to his chest as she can get. His hand rests on hers over his shirt.

She moves her head and sucks gently, being cautious of her teeth. She still gets flashbacks to the first time she blew him sometimes when her teeth accidentally got involved and there was almost a hospital trip that night.

Honestly, it’s probably why he rarely lets her blow him at this point in their relationship. It was a year before he let her try again.

Ethan’s hips roll slowly and he hits the back of her throat. She relaxes her jaw and throat as he begins to fuck her face. Soft pants pass Ethan’s lips as she hollows out her cheeks and lightly sucks. Her tongue swirls around his tip every so often.

“Baby, you keep doing that and I’m going to come before either of us are ready,” Ethan tells her.

She pulls off his dick with a pop and licks her lips. “Then we better move to the bed,” she replies as she stands up. “So you can fuck me instead of coming from a blowjob against a wall.”

Ethan’s eyes widen and he crashes their lips together. He hums softly and begins to walk toward the bed. She loses her t-shirt and her leggings are around her knees when she falls onto her back. The kiss breaks and she stares up at him.

He unbuttons his shirt and she pulls off her leggings. She is left in her bra and panties, but she’ll let Ethan take them off because it’s one of his favorite things to do when they have sex.

She moves back on the bed until her head hits the pillows. A completely naked Ethan crawls onto the mattress until he’s settled between her bent knees. One of his hands cups her jaw and he instigates a soft kiss. She wraps her hand around his wrist.

“I love you,” she mumbles. “I’ve loved you from year one and I’ll love you after next year. No matter what.”

Ethan smiles against her lips and she can’t help but smile against his. He pulls back and meets her eyes. “I love you,” he tells her. “I love that you’re here. It can’t be easy for you either.”

She shakes her head and traces Ethan’s cheekbones and jaw with thee fingers. “It sucks seeing you guys come so close and not getting the championship,” she admits. “I hate seeing you so upset, Eddie. It breaks my heart.”

“Gonna win one next year,” Ethan tells her as he leans in and presses kisses to her jaw. “For you. I’m gonna raise that trophy for you, baby.”

She smiles and wraps her arms around his neck. “Good,” she giggles. “You’d look hot with that trophy above your head.”

Ethan laughs and pulls back to look at her. His hair falls into his face as he looks down at her. “Then I’m definitely winning it,” he replies as she pushes his hair out of his face. “Right now though, I need to get you naked and get inside of you.”

He pulls her up so she is sitting up with her legs wrapped around his waist. She laughs when he reaches around her and unhooks her bra. He throws it to the floor before he kisses her. She falls back so her head hits the pillows again.

Ethan hovers over her and slithers a hand between them until it slides into her panties. He cups her core and she gasps against his mouth. “Eddie,” she breathes out.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he tells her. “Such a good girl for me being so wet. You want me that bad?”

She nods and whines when Ethan plays with her clit. “I wanna ride you,” she tells him. “Help you forget the game tonight like you want me to.”

He pulls back from the kiss and meets her eyes. “Yeah?” he asks. “Wanna ride me, pretty girl?”

With an eager nod, she manages to flip them over so she is straddling Ethan’s thighs. Ethan stares up at her with a shocked look on his face as she runs her hands from his stomach to his chest. “Let me take care of you, E,” she tells him. “Make you feel good.”

Ethan nods with his wide eyes.

She pulls her panties off, the lace ruined from how wet she was before she pulled them off. She straddles Ethan’s waist once she’s completely naked. His hands run up and down her sides for a second while she leans down and kisses his jaw.

After a second of this, she gets on her knees and grabs his dick. She lines him up with her entrance and Ethan’s hand rests on her waist. She slowly sinks down on his dick with a sigh.

No mather how many times they do this, she is still shocked with how big he is as he fills her up. She’ll never get over how he manages to fit inside of her every time.

She drops her head back as she slowly fills herself with Ethan’s dick. “That’s it, baby,” Ethan says. “You take my cock so well. Look so pretty sitting on my cock.”

She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth as Ethan bottoms out inside of her. His words shoot straight to her core. Ethan traces her sides for a second before he helps her begin to roll her hips. She sighs as he moves in and out of her.

“Fuck,” she gasps as she moves her hip. “Eddie.”

One of Ethan’s hands snakes between them and rubs her clit. She lets out a soft moan as Ethan works her close to an orgasm.

The bed creaks below them as she picks up speed. Her hands rest on his chest to keep her balance. Ethan’s lips are parted and his eyes are closed as she rides his dick.

It’s not a minute later when Ethan wraps his arms around her waist and rolls until he’s hovering over her. She looks up at him and smiles. Ethan mirrors the smile and slowly begins to roll his hips into her.

His dick moves in and out of her slowly, and deeply with the new angle. He hooks one of her legs over his shoulders so he can move as deep into her as he can.

Her fingers find a home in Ethan’s locks and pulls him down into a kiss. His movements remain slow and deep as he fucks her.

This doesn’t feel like fucking though. To her, it feels like more than that.

Ethan presses soft kisses to her wrists as he moves. She stares up at him and notices the soft look on his face. He looks almost relaxed.

“I love you,” Ethan softly pants. “So much, baby. I’m so lucky.”

“I’m so- ah- lucky,” she replies. “I’m so in love with you, E. Fuck.”

His speed picks up slightly and his thrusts get sloppy. He is close and she knows it.

She pushes the hair out of his face and pulls him down for a kiss. They both pant and groan as they get closer to their orgasms.

Her legs begin to shake and she feels the familiar knot in the pit of her stomach. Ethan’s fingers finding their way back to her clit almost undoes the knot. She cries out against Ethan’s lips.

“Come on my cock, baby,” Ethan mumbles against her lips. “Right behind you.”

“Come inside of me, Eddie,” she pants. “It’s okay. You know I’m on the pill.”

Ethan’s thrusts have slowed but he slams into her. She cries out a second later and clenches around Ethan’s dick. Her head is thrown back against the pillows and she cries his name. Her fingers dig into the skin on his back.

He shoots into her after a couple more thrusts. “Fuck,” he groans.

Her entire body melts into the mattress beneath her. Her breathing is labored as Ethan collapses on top of her. He lifts her head up and they share lazy kisses until he pulls out of her to clean her up.

She can’t move. Her body feels like jelly but the warm cloth feels good on her core and thighs. She whimpers as the cloth brushes over her sensitive core.

Ethan crawls back onto the bed and pulls the blankets on top of them. She manages to move so she can curl up against his side. She traces lazy shapes into his chest.

Silence fills the room, and it’s okay because she loves just being with Ethan.

Then a question rises in her head and she can’t resist asking. Especially when she knows that some of his teammates are leaving.

“Are you going to sign with the Devils?” she asks as she lifts her head. “It’s okay if you are. You know I’ll come to all the games that are closer to Mich-”

“I’m coming back for my senior year, baby,” he interrupts. “The Devils can wait. Shea is waiting too so it’s okay. We’re going to go together. You can’t get rid of me yet.”

She smiles and presses a soft kiss to his lips before she settles in for the night and falls asleep minutes later.

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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[artbyblastweave]

About six months back I lost a round of social Ju Jitsu and wound up getting roped into attending a Sox game at Fenway that I didn't really want to attend. It was during work hours so whatever, kind of a wash. Precisely as uncompelling to me as every other baseball game I've ever been to, except that this happened to be the game where at the start of the fifth inning they carried out the formal termination of Chaim Bloom for his gross incompetence as Chief Baseball Officer for the Boston Red Sox. I was fascinated with the lurid, grotesque ceremony with which they marched him out onto the field with his hands tied behind his back and lined him up against the Green Monster. I watched as the ceremonial officer, decked out in full Wally regalia, offered Bloom a blindfold and the traditional last frank, fumbling the conciliatory sausage into the corner of Bloom's mouth before hurriedly lumbering out of the line of fire. And I watched as the ten-man line of sox pitchers unleashed a perfectly synchronized volley of hardballs, physically obliterating Chaim Bloom's musculoskeletal structure in a single gorestained moment of human annihilation. I witnessed the half-chewed last frank spiraling through the air before landing on the astroturf alongside the rest of the offal. As fans in the front rows poured out onto the field and swarmed the remains in pursuit of red-streaked souvenirs, I reflected on the pitchers, now forgotten amidst the burgeoning chaos. I wondered what it was like to live with that kind of moral burden. I mean I know that one guy out of the ten is randomly issued a softball to introduce a comforting sliver of doubt that they were truly a participant in the termination, but let's be real, those guys throw those for a living. They can feel the difference. They know what they must one day be held to account for

[55sturn]

✮ SAYIN’ SORRY FOR THAT NIGHT

series masterlist!

paring: boston bruins player!chris sturniolo x fem!reader!

synopsis: in which y/n is greeted by a sudden revelation on the night of chris’ most anticipated game, the one that determines whether or not the bruins get into the playoffs and she’s left apologizing for the night that caused it all.

warnings: swearing, fluff, mentions and descriptions of violent fights, verbal arguments, unplanned pregnancy, discussion of abortions, comments from the other team and hecklers, open ending, angst, angst, angst, and more angst.

THIRD PERSON POV

to be in the limelight alone is tough. to be in it for something such a hockey, where a million and one eyes are watching your every move, scrutinizing every play you make, every workout you do to toughen your body and build your endurance for the tasking time spent on the ice is even tougher, but to do all of that with a public relationship is the toughest thing.

chris knew that announcing his relationship at the peak of his career with the boston bruins was not going to be easy. he had all eyes on him as the bruins' newest right winger, but not only was he the newest player, he was also the youngest to join in years.

just like connor mcdavid's rise to fame with the edmonton oilers, chris was in the spotlight and it wasn't easy. he was in the spotlight because he was a phenomenal player with a chipper attitude that most hockey players don't seem to have. he had been scouted at one of his toughest games in his college career and almost immediately the contracts began flowing and the drafting process had started.

as eyes of everyone involved in the hockey world began to shift to the star of what they called "the boston bruins' new era and future captain", so did the female attention. not only was chris good at what he did, but he was insanely good looking, at least to the younger female demographic that had taken an interest in hockey.

but he didn't care for the, for a lack of a better name, puck bunnies or the future hockey wives in training, he had his own hockey wife sitting front row in the v.i.p section at every game, smiling as she watched him zip back and forth between his teammates and the teammates that he was facing

as he announced who the mystery girl in his practice jersey at every game was, he faced an onslaught of even more hate disguised as criticism and scrutiny from devout bruins fans, potential drafting scouts, and anyone willing to spare an opinion. but as the rather distasteful comments rolled in, his skin grew thicker, because as long as he had her to go home to, he could handle it.

PRESENT TIME

chris sat on the bench in the hallway adorning the infamous bruins logos, each brick in the wall holding some sort of history of the team, twirling tape around the blade of his stick. he found the dressing room too stuffy right before a game, so he and john beecher sat outside the dressing room, joking amongst themselves as they prepared for the game.

"cmon man, you played big games before you'll be fine." john chuckled, handing chris back his spare roll of stick tape as chris sighed.

"i know, it's just a big fuckin' game tonight. haven't played montreal yet."

"wait this is your first game against montreal?"

"yes and as a boston native, i know this is the game, just don't wanna fuck up when this decides whether or not we make it to playoffs."

"kid you'll be fine, you've outdone mcdavid's first year and that's pretty fuckin' bizarre 'cause he's a powerhouse." beecher reassured, clapping the young right winger on the shoulder before heading back to the dressing room. chris stared at the wall across, still struggling to comprehend how his life has become the way it is, he's incredibly grateful for the opportunities he's gotten and proud of the work he's put in, it's just still hard to fathom.

sensing that she should give her boyfriend a quick visit before he went on to the ice, y/n made her way through the crowds of people, smiling at the fans that addressed her, politely declining to take pictures until after the game. she proudly donned a large "8" and the name "STURNIOLO" scrawled across the back of a black away-game jersey and black jeans and her trusty, yet dirty, air forces, proudly showing her support for the man she's loved for six years, since she was a small fourteen year old navigating her year of high school with the triplets by her side.

the thin plastic stick weighed heavy in the pocket of her hoodie she wore beneath the jersey, she was about to tell chris about it, to give him a little motivation to play extra hard. but when she spotted the reporter’s mic pointed toward his helmet covered face, she placed that idea on the back burner. smiling she approached chris,

“hey mister big shot.” she laughed, causing chris to grin as he introduced her to the reported as his girlfriend. the reporter quickly bid the couple goodbye, leaving them to have their moment together.

“hey so i’ve got some really good news for you.” y/n smiled, smoothing her hands over his shoulder pads as he tugged off his helmet, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

“listen i wanna go be apart of the chant so i need to go, can this news wait?”

“i guess so. give ‘em hell baby, i love you.”

“always ma, i love you.” chris replied, bouncing on his skates slightly before shoving his helmet back on, quickly shoving his way through the door leading to short hallway his team would walk through.

y/n stared at his back, watching him fade away as she was left to mull over the news she was about to tell chris. it was the start of his career and she didn’t want to derail it any, so the choice between telling him now or tell him in a month waged a violent war in her mind.

shaking her head, she made her way back to the staircase leading to the v.i.p section, as she wove through crowds of people, she heard the gasps and murmurs.

“that’s who the new bruins guy is dating? i won’t be shocked when he starts fucking the puck sluts in a month.”

“she looks out of place and that jersey is so unflattering on her.”

“i hope sturniolo comes to his senses and dumps her ass soon.”

scoffing, y/n climbed the stairs, pushing the overwhelmingly upsetting thoughts from her mind as she spotted nick and matt in their seats. breaking the news to someone was imperative to her, not telling someone would break her but she didn’t know whether she should tell someone before chris.

of course she and chris had talked about their views on starting a family together and the idea of raising a baby together but there was one issue,

chris wanted to wait until secured a long term contract with the bruins. he didn’t want anything to deter his plans. and y/n understood, he has worked so unbelievably hard to get to the position he’s in now. starting a family takes a lot of dedication, time, effort, and devotion without distractions. chris was concerned that if they had a baby early on in his professional hockey career, she’d be left alone to carry out so many of the responsibilities that being a parent brought on.

so as y/n made her way to her designated seat, her heart felt heavy. her doubts only grew with every step she took, and it felt like her body had been held down, it was as if she had cinder blocks chained to her ankles. as she sat beside nick, he picked up on her mood, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that sonething was bothering her though. nick bumped her elbow with his, as if to ask what’s wrong and she just smiled and shook her head.

mary-lou, who was sat behind y/n and her three sons, immediately knew what was going on. y/n had a certain glow to her, despite the sorrowful look that had become deeply etched into her skin. she knew that pained expression anywhere, she understood what the taut shoulders, pinched eyebrows, and distraught gleam in her eyes all too well. but the older woman put her excitement about becoming a grandmother off to the side, deciding she’d wait to gloat until y/n had accepted the idea her self.

the family conversed among themselves while the teams prepared to saunter out onto the ice, letting the fans get hyped up. a voice boomed from above, prompting cheers and hollers from the people taking up the stands.

“please welcome your home team, the boston bruins!” the commentator exclaimed, dragging out the words boston bruins in typical emcee fashion, allowing the fans and supporters chant for their team as he played the bruins’ intro song as they skated onto the ice one by one, the emcee announcing the names and numbers above the music.

y/n couldn’t help but lett the pride and excitement she felt show brightly on her face, despite the worries she suffered deep down. she was so incredibly proud of chris, him landing a secure spot on the bruins was a long time coming. it was his dream back in high school the moment he secured a spot on his high school’s team with ease. he was a natural born hockey player and it showed through the surplus of dedication he put into it. and y/n felt more than lucky to be there on the sidelines from the very beginning.

as the emcee asked from everyone to stand for the national anthem, a cheesy grin broke out on her face as chris stood on the offensive line facing the vip box, and pointed up to where he knew she’d be sitting before forming his hand into the best half heart possible that his bulky gloves would allow. she felt her cheeks warm with a deep blush as chris’ family playfully teased her for having their brother and son completely and unfalteringly whipped.

“shut up!” she laughed, her nerves drifting away as the game started. the excitement she never failed to feel at every single one of chris’ games, whether it was just him filling in for the local adult men’s teams or an exhibition game for his old college team, she was always filled with adrenaline as she stood and sat in the stands.

but that was expected when born into a city that favours the winter sport, you were either born with the excitement coursing through your veins or you were born with a deep hatred for it filling every crevice of your body. there was no in between.

y/n cheered along with chris’ family as he zipped, swerved, bobbed, and weaved up and down the ice. that was one thing that most players envied chris for, he was fast and slick, almost as if he was water slipping through your fingers.

and not only was he fast, he held great control over the puck as she moved down the ice, the puck never got away from him as he maneuvered it between players, alternating which side his stick was covering and pushing it.

there was fifteen seconds left in the second period and both montreal and boston held three goals each as chris stood for a moment back checking as his teammates guarding him, and with five seconds ticking down, he delivered a brutal slap shot, sending the puck into the net behind carey price who had dropped to block it a second too late.

the bruins fans’ side of the stands erupted in loud cheers, and so did y/n and chris’ family, his parents laughing giddily as matt made a backhanded comment about price being too old for goaltending.

“i will be right back, i have to use the washroom.” y/n interjects, letting nick know where she’d while the rest of them grabbed drinks.

“yo y/n, you drink budlight right?” justin hums, causing her stomach to drop, her usual habit of having a beer with them at chris’ games being something she hadn’t even considered.

“uh can you just grab me an iced tea? i’ve got an early appointment tomorrow and i’d rather not show up at my doctor’s smelling like beer.” she laughs nervously, causing justin to shrug and accept her answer before heading off to the concession stand near the entrance of the vip box.

“i’ll come with you, i’ve got to use the ladie’s room too.” mary-lou hums, smiling appreciatively as y/n waited for her.

however as they made their way to back of the section they were sitting in, mary-lou motioned for y/n to follow her out into the small hallway that lead to the smoking doors, it was empty as the two stood there.

“how far along are you?” mary-lou whispers, unable to withhold her suspicions any longer, and the abrupt question had y/n’s stomach twisting into more knots than it was already in.

“wha-how did you figure it out?”

“i’ve had my suspicions for a while, the last time you were over i heard you throwing up, and you’ve got the pregnancy glow. plus you’ve been wearing baggy clothes and you aren’t drinking tonight.”

“fuck. sorry for my language. but i think i’m about two and a half months along. last month i just thought my period was late because i was sick and when i get sick, my period is normally late. but then i missed this month’s too and it clicked.”

“have you told chris yet?” mary-lou spoke, her voice soft as she rest a reassuring hand on her future daughter in law’s arm as she shook her head.

“i wanted to tell him before the game, to give him a little motive to play harder but he didn’t want to miss the chant and pep talk so he left before i could say anything about it. i’ve got the test in my pocket and i know it’s not smart to go off just one test so that’s why i’m going to the doctor tomorrow.”

“well i think you should tell him, i think he’ll be happy.”

“that’s what i’m worried about, he wanted to wait until he secured a long term contract. we had this conversation about a month ago.”

“you can’t necessarily control these things. a family comes to be when it’s meant to happen, not when you want it to happen.”

mary-lou’s words stuck deep in y/n’s mind. she knew that chris’ mother was right. y/n had just wished her and chris were a bit more careful that drunken night in the hotel.

FLASHBACK

chris and y/n’s drunken giggles bounced off the walls as they pushed their way into their room. they had gone out for dinner with the team and eventually broke off on their own after swiping two of the complementary bottles of champagne that the teams managers had provided.

they stumbled through the city after hiding in an empty room in the banquet hall, chugging the nasty liquor as quick as they could handle on empty stomachs.

“god baby, you look so pretty in this dress, just wanna tear it off you.” chris rasped, his cheeks flushing and eyes drooping, from the alcohol, or the effect his girlfriend had on him, or maybe even both, she wasn’t quite sure. making him look all the more enticing to y/n.

“do it then.” y/n slurred back, pulling chris into a messy, sloppy, yet incredibly hot, like searingly hot, make out, chris’ hands roamed her body feverishly, unable to stay in one place very long.

as their ministration progressed, so did their desire for one another and the lingering buzz they had from the alcohol left room for a few less than sound decisions. chris drunkenly justified going in raw by saying “just wanna feel as close to you as possible.” and that was all the convincing y/n needed, but she made him promise to pull out in time.

but due to their inebriation, chris wasn’t quick enough but they had long forgotten it by the time morning came.

FLASHBACK OVER

and now she was paying the price for them being reckless. sighing, she made her way back to her seat just as the intermission ended and chris' team made their way back to the home bench, their net switching back to the end they started out on.

it wasn't too far into the third period when the canadiens were getting aggressive, the score was eight to five in favour of boston and montreal was getting mad that they were losing the game, the most awaited game since it was announced boston and montreal would be facing each other to land a bracket in the playoffs.

the fact that it was also playoff season made y/n's stomach twist even tighter, she felt sick. she was so scared she was going to fuck up chris' life plan and she couldn't bear that idea.

but her current worries were thrown on the back burner when she watched a much bigger player from montreal's team check chris, sending him flying back against the ice, his head ricocheting off the ice, leaving chris laying flat on the ice.

chris' coach calls a time-out while paramedics quickly make their way onto the ice, carrying chris off the ice, and before y/n could react, she was pushing her way through the bustling crowd and stomping down the stairs, quickly sprinting to chris' change room.

"i'm sorry ma'am but you can't be in here."

"i'm his fiance." y/n spits, pushing her way into the change room, immediately rushing to chris, raising her hand to play with his hair, pausing momentarily to silently ask for permission which was granted by him leaning into her touch.

"we're okay, if anything happens, we'll call for you." chris rasps, waving away the paramedics, sighing sadly after being told he's not allowed back on the ice for the rest of the game to prevent being knocked around again because he was highly vulnerable to getting a concussion right now.

"tell me something to distract me, baby." chris whispers, pulling y/n into his lap, the bulky padding beneath her feeling foreign as she leans her head on his shoulder.

"i'm not sure what to talk about." she laughs as he rubs his hand back and forth along her thigh.

"your news from earlier."

"oh." she squeaks, her voice almost inaudible as she realizes that it's now or never. sighing, she grabs the test out of her pocket from beneath the spare jersey she wore, placing it into chris' hand with a heartbroken expression and timid voice,

"we're pregnant, chris."

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[jessicaslittlelovesickmess]

Your mama’s crying

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x daughter reader

Warning: death, angst, Ian Doyle, depression, Ian calling reader by her “name”

It had been seven months…

Seven months since your mother had passed, your best friend had died at the hands of your father Ian Doyle. Seven months of losing yourself and recreating a new version of who you once were, everything had changed once she left, even me.

I couldn't bare looking into the mirror to stare at the dark eyes, raven hair that I mourned the loss of so I dyed it. Pink. Purple. Blue. Green. Red. Before settling on a beautiful Blonde that she would've loved. I swapped my glasses for coloured contacts, it hurt to see the ghost of my mother in myself.

Seven months and yet it felt like seven years..

The first day had begun a month after mum had passed, I was curled in her bed my face smothered in her blankets that were slowly loosing her scent. Morgan had burst into the room throwing my gym clothes at me telling me to get ready, we ran ten kilometres that day only stopping at the lookout on the hill to yell out our frustrations at the world.

It became a routine of sorts and sometimes Penelope would join us although she couldn’t keep up with us as often. It was okay. We would be okay, Sergio clung to me more as the months grew almost as if he just knew.

I sat with Derek on the roof, his arm wrapped securely around my shoulders as we spoke "I miss her" I whispered curling myself into him more. "Me too, miniP' he kissed my head before resting his cheek on it"me too he repeated sadly "she'd be proud of you, you know that right?" | nodded biting my lip.

I hope she would be

Although I wanted revenge

I had graduated university top of my class with the team cheering me on in the crowd, how was I to see those two guilty faces. It hurt my mother not being in the front row like she was meant to but I imagined she had been.

My father loved me in a strange way

The team thought it best to use me as the bait to catch him, I called him to a cafe just a quiet one that I had visited him before at. Staring at him I felt nothing, his face was blank “whats the softest way to say you took away my friend, my buddy?. Whats the kindest way to say you took away my friend?”.

“You wouldn’t understand Alora” he whispered “so help me understand father” hopefully the team should walk in any moment. “It was simply fate my dear, we have a past” fate? Fate took my mother? My heart had shattering once more.

I wanted to scream and cry, throw anything available at him but I was just so numb and maybe he knew that as he leaned over. Placing a gentle kiss on my forehead before the team burst in “Je t'aime Y/n” he whispered I love you Y/n “Adieu père” I whispered. Goodbye father

How dare he simply call it fate

“Elle m'a enlevé ma fille”

She took my daughter away

I was bound to him, mum was bound to him

I was his daughter

It was all a blur as he was arrested, I had become numb but I knew I hated France it would never be the same I’m not sure Virginia could be the same anymore.

I never went home that day, finding myself at Penelope’s front doorstep tears streaming down my face. Her arms had become home I wondered if my mother would be disappointed in me- of who I had become.

“Oh my sweetheart”

I wished I could’ve told her sooner about my adoration for women of my harboured feelings for an older blonde that I had no chance with. I had an internship with the bau while I found a job that I actually wanted, I had plans just as my mother once had.

We had been called into the conference room, I stood near the back “everyone take a seat” Hotch sighed as JJ stood beside him. "7 months ago I made a decision that affected this Team." he said, and I knew immediatly that this was about mum.

"As you know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. The doctors were able to stabilize her and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfilitration. Her identity was strictly need-to-know." he said and I felt sick to my stomach.

"She stayed there until she was well enough to travel, she was reassigned to Paris where she was given several different identities which we had no access to for her security." He goes on.

"She's alive?" Penelope asked.

"But we buried her..." Reid says hurt.

I had buried my mother

I had buried my mother

Yet she had walked into the room with a smile on her face as if these seven months had never existed, I had buried my mother for nothing. These seven months had been a lie, all the words JJ and Aaron said had been lies all those tender hugs and kisses were full of guilt.

I couldn’t help but leave quickly as mum made her way around the team giving out hugs unaware she had watched me go. I couldn’t be there, I couldn’t be in that room not with everyone so happy to have her back, I grieved my mother.

I mourned someone who wasn’t dead

Maybe it was selfish of me but I left the team that day, finally moved my things out of my mothers apartment now that she was back. I ignored her calls so angry she could do such a thing the same went with Aaron and JJ, how could they? my mother?.

The team had called me often saying how my mother had been crying, her sobs begging for me and maybe in some sick way she knew just how I had felt.

I laid with my head in Penelopes lap as I sobbed, her soothing hands running through my hair “I know it’s hard right now Y/n but maybe it would be a good thing if you started talking to her again”.

“I’m just so scared Pen”

“And thats okay baby cakes”

It wouldn’t be another two weeks before I worked up the courage to talk to her, Rossi was hosting a part while I had arrived with the blonde. Mum made her way beside me “I’m proud of you Y/n” she slowly placed a hand on my shoulder.

She took a deep breath in tears already staining her waterline “and I’m sorry, if I could’ve taken you with me I would’ve but Aaron had said no. I asked them everyday about you and I’m sorry I couldn’t be here I’m sorry, I put my little girl through all this pain”

She moved her hands to cup my face “my baby girl, and when you graduated Uni. I made sure Aaron got me a clip of you. I never once stopped thinking about you, Mon cher I love you”

“And I am so so proud of you” the warmth of her lips pressed against my forehead cemented she was real “I’m sorry mama” I cried. “I was just so angry, I didn’t mean to make you cry” she pulled me into her chest rocking us gently side by side.

After a while she chuckle causing me to look up confused “you and Garcia?” She smirked with a raised brow

[stardustvanfleet]

Backstage Baby (Jake Kiszka x Groupie!Reader)

SMUT. 18+ ONLY! MDNI!!!!!

PAIRING: Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

WORDS: 4k

WARNINGS: Dom!Jake. BASICALLY PWP. rough unprotected sex, edging, daddy kink, light choking (blink and you’ll miss it), mix of praise and degradation, nicknames (baby, princess, good girl, slut), my obsession with jake’s silver medallion, ending with flirtatious fluffy aftercare.

A/N: i’ve been writing band rpf for years, but this is my first gvf fic! ever since seeing them in boston on 9/15, i have literally been walking around in a daze, daydreaming about going backstage with jake……. and this is the result lmfao. title inspired by B-Side Baby by Adam Ant. i’m always looking for more gvf friends to discuss ideas with….. and also just cry and lose my mind with LMAO. anyway— i hope you enjoy! XO, li

••••••••••••••••••••

No matter how many times you saw Jake up there, he still made you breathless.

That furrowed concentration on his brow as his expert fingers flew across the strings… his hair falling across his shoulders… the way he would rock and grind against his guitar, glowing under the lights as sweat dripped down his forehead, his chest bare and slick from perspiration…

You didn’t really ever plan on becoming a groupie. The effect that Jake had on you had been intense enough long before you started following Greta Van Fleet around the country, before you’d even once thought you’d ever be in a room with him smaller than a stadium. But you hadn’t expected anything like the way things had actually gone. They had always said real life was stranger than fiction, but you had never thought its twists and turns could be this earth-shattering.

It had started with the eye contact. The first few times it happened, you couldn’t be sure if you were imagining things, your head perhaps fuzzy from the thrill of numerous front-row nights in a row… but when Jake crouched down and leaned towards you mid-solo, his eyes meeting yours with a jolt of electricity, a wicked smirk on his face, you realized with a heart-stopping shudder that no, you hadn’t been imagining his eyes on you.

Those looks would intensify as the tour continued. He’d always somehow find you in the front row, letting his cool and confident gaze rest on you as he played, just long enough to leave you squeezing your thighs together involuntarily. One night, you had been approached by a stagehand, who simply passed you a note with directions to an afterparty, and even though the note had no signature, something deep down told you exactly who it had been from.

That was your first night with Jake, and you had left the next morning with aching legs that felt like jelly. Since then, every night had been fucking cinematic.

Tonight was no exception. It had been damn near impossible to take your eyes off of Jake before you’d even had any opportunity to speak to him, but now, knowing exactly what he was able to do to your body, how fucking incredible he could make you feel… seeing him like that onstage made you positively throb throughout the show, taking all of your energy just to keep your composure.

As the concert winded down, you slipped out of the pit up front, making your way to the backstage entrance. The security guards, who recognized you by now— still an odd feeling — let you in. You headed towards where you now knew the band would be coming down once they left the stage, your heart already pounding with anticipation, heat already beginning to pool between your thighs. You took a deep breath, tugging on the hem of your top, which you had intentionally chosen due to its short length: you loved the way it highlighted the curves of your waist and hips, and hoped Jake would too.

And, as always, once they emerged, it seemed as though everything was happening at once– pulling out earpieces, handing off instruments and passing equipment along – but your eyes were only on Jake, and, you realized with a shudder that wracked your entire body, his were on you.

Once his guitar had been handed off, Jake wasted no time in heading right towards you, grabbing your wrist, and leading you down the hall. He didn’t need to say anything; you knew exactly where he was taking you, and you instantly felt a wave of overwhelming desire wash over your every inch. It was truly absurd how little he had to do to turn you on.

//

He pulled you into his dressing room, and immediately pushed your back up against the closing door. Jake’s large hands pinned your shoulders against it, a soft clicking sound occurring as the door locked automatically. His lips collided sloppily with yours, kissing you with a hunger that sent your head spinning, sparks of heat igniting deep within your core.

When he finally pulled back, grazing your bottom lip with his teeth as he did so, a shiver went down your spine, and it took you far longer than intended to regain composure and open your eyes. When you did, his heavy-lidded dark eyes were on you, pupils blown wide with desire. The dominance behind his expression was enough to cause an involuntary whimper to escape you, the sound of which brought out a smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“So needy today… What a dirty girl,” he said, his tone dripping with authority, making your knees immediately weaken. His eyes never left yours as he continued teasing, knowing by now what it did to you. He leaned in, making sure you got his next few words right in your ear. “You wanna get fucked tonight? Hm?” His voice was low and seductive, leaving one hand on your shoulder to keep you pinned to the wall, while his other one stroked first down your arm, then back up, your skin lighting up under his touch. As his body pressed up against yours, you could feel him, rock-hard and throbbing against your thigh, the sensation almost overwhelming as you found yourself nodding your head as hard as you could, already difficult to find the words.

That wasn’t enough, though, not for Jake. The hand that had been stroking up and down your bare arms moved abruptly to your jaw, holding it firmly in place so his gaze was locked on yours. “I asked you a question, princess.” Your lower lip trembled desperately as Jake tilted his head ever so slightly, his expression and tone just the right amount of patronizing as his hips began to roll at a slow but steady pace against you, breathing out, “You want this cock?”

“Yes, fuck,” you managed, already feeling lightheaded at just his words and close proximity.

“There you go,” he chuckled condescendingly at the sound of you using your words for the first time. He continued to rock up against your thigh, letting the hand on your jaw slide to your throat, but not lingering there too long, not giving you yet what he knew you wanted— just staying long enough to drag his long fingers down the sensitive skin of your neck, as if examining every inch of you. What a fucking tease.

“Jake, please,” you found yourself begging, taking your free hand and gripping the lapel of his black jacket— all he was wearing over his tanned, sweaty torso, which had been making your head spin all night— “I’m so fucking hot for you. So fucking wet for you. I want you so bad, please…”

The sound of your desperation made a low sound somewhere between a chuckle and a growl rumble in Jake’s throat, and if your panties weren’t soaked through already, that alone would have been enough to get you there.

Your begging had satisfied him, for now. Jake finally released his grip, freeing you from your position pinned up against the door, only to lead you over to the white leather couch in the corner of the room. Before having you sit, however, there were two things that needed to be done. First of all, he shrugged his black jacket off from his shoulders, throwing it to the floor behind him, leaving him standing before you in nothing but those sinfully tight pants and that silver necklace that drove you wild. Through your lightheadedness, you could tell how horny he was, too— his pants left almost nothing to the imagination, and the sight of the achingly large bulge straining against the tight black fabric was making your head swim, to say nothing of the heat between your thighs.

That was when he lowered himself just enough that his lips were in line with the top button of your jeans, and you felt all breath leave your body as he looked wickedly up at you. Going slowly enough to make you squirm, but not so slowly that you’d protest, Jake unzipped your bell bottoms. His gaze never left yours as he pulled them down your legs, revealing inch after inch of your skin to him, his tongue flicking out across his own bottom lip hungrily as he watched himself undress you— this gorgeous present, all his to unwrap.

As you had anticipated, your light pink panties were so soaked they had been rendered essentially useless as a means of covering you up, and the feeling of Jake’s eyes devouring the sight of your pussy through them were only making you wetter.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed out, his eyes glancing up to meet yours for a moment before looking right back down at the burning heat between your legs. After a second or two of him just looking intently— as if committing the sight to memory— he spoke, saying, “Drives me fucking crazy…” as one of his hands found its way to the inside of your calf, stroking slowly up, further and further, ��...how fucking wet you get for me, before I’ve even touched you. Goddamn.”

“Jake, please,” you begged again, your voice cracking a bit as you spread your legs to give him easier access to your inner thigh, his long fingers stroking and massaging you only centimeters from where you needed his touch the most. “I need your fingers… I need them… please.”

Your final “please” had such an undertone of neediness, desperation, it must’ve been exactly what Jake had been looking for-– and immediately, your eyes rolled back into your head as his long middle finger began to stroke deliciously up and down your clothed slit. He started at your entrance to gather your wetness through your panties, then slid upwards and flattened his fingertip out, letting the pad of the digit trace tight circles over your throbbing clit. Immediately upon the contact with your sensitive bundle of nerves, you cried out, clapping a hand over your own mouth as you, in a cloud of arousal, watched Jake play with your pussy from his position between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as he kept up his steady, rhythmic circular motions.

Time seemed to stop for what could have been seconds or minutes as Jake massaged your clit and teased your entrance through your dripping panties, and it was only when your eyes were watering and whimpers were falling from your lips that he pulled his hand back, the loss of contact making you let out an involuntary whine.

But once his fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties, you realized he wasn’t teasing any longer— he was escalating. The thought made you shudder as he tugged the soaked scrap of fabric down your legs, Jake’s face flushed with heat, that gorgeous hair of his falling across his shoulders and sticking to his forehead.

Once your panties were off, he tossed them to the side, standing up and leaving you trembling on the leather couch as his hands moved down to his own waistband, his eyes meeting yours and his tongue once again swiping across his bottom lip hungrily. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he moved to pull his pants down— which, at this point, were pornographically tight— and, Jesus Christ, he looked angelic as they came off. His skin was glowing with sweat, and warm light from the dressing room’s lamps was glinting off the silver medallion around his neck. When he took his cock out, you let out yet another involuntary whimper.

Hard and thick, the tip already glistening with his arousal, just the sight of it made your mouth water. He wrapped his hand around his length, beginning to pump it up and down just slightly as he lowered himself onto the couch next to you, watching with blown-out pupils as you pulled your crop top over your head, revealing to Jake that you hadn’t worn a bra underneath it, your tits bouncing free. The realization made him growl under his breath between strokes of his cock, groaning, “Fuck… you do that for me?” Your nod made him groan all over again, rasping out, “Mmmm… you’re such a dirty girl… C’mere.”

The simple command was all you needed, giving into your desire and practically pushing yourself against his slick, toned body. The feeling of his hot skin against yours alone made you moan out loud as Jake’s hands found your hips, pulling you into his lap. Once you were straddling him, you were so close to his cock that you felt entirely lightheaded, knowing that if you rocked forward, your clit would get the most incredible friction rubbing up against his length…

But you didn’t have to do anything yourself. Before you could organize your thoughts, Jake was kissing you again, messy and filthy, his tongue and teeth everywhere, his mouth moving sloppily from your lips to your neck and back again, and suddenly you hadn’t any thoughts left at all beyond Jake, his hands, his body, and the feeling of his cold silver medallion pressing up against the skin of your breasts— grazing your nipple, making you gasp into his mouth, eliciting a dark chuckle form the man beneath you.

One of his hands took yours and guided it to his cock, and when your fingers wrapped around the velvety skin of his length the both of you shuddered in unison. Jake’s mouth immediately dropped open from the pleasure, murmuring another, “Fuck, princess,” his other hand slipping between your legs to start toying with your clit again. It didn’t take long for your legs to start to tremble. You were aching for him to fill you up.

You both worked each other like this for a minute or two, eyes growing more half-lidded and cheeks flushing ever pinker as you built up to the main event. Finally, after what seemed an achingly long time, Jake finally spoke, words coming in between his heavy panting that was making your whole body tremble.

“You want it, baby? You want this cock right now? You want Daddy to fuck you like the cute little slut you are?”

You moaned so desperately you hardly recognized your own voice. He always knew exactly when to bring things up a notch, and how. You were nodding your head before you could even speak, finally finding the words to beg, “Please, Daddy. I need it, I need your cock,” staring at him with lust-blown doe eyes.

Jake let out a true growl this time, and sat back further, spreading his legs wide, his cock thick and hard and waiting, your wetness all over his thigh from where you had been straddling him. When he spoke again, his voice was low and authoritative. “Then sit on this fucking dick.”

The sound that left your lips in response to his words was something beyond desperation. With trembling thighs, you positioned yourself over Jake as he gave his cock another couple strokes, lining himself up at your entrance, and saying lowly, hotly, “Look at me.”

You obliged without even having to think, and with your eyes on each other, taking in every little change in expression, you started lowering yourself onto him. Slowly but surely, you felt every single inch of his hard cock stretching you out, and as you took all of him as deep as possible, you made sure to keep your eyes right on his as your mouth fell open. He loved to see what he was doing to you.

He only waited a moment, giving you enough time to grab onto his shoulders for leverage, but not enough time to catch your breath, before his hands found your hips. His fingernails dug into your skin, something sexy, dangerous, and dark in his eyes that you instantly recognized. Oh. There would be no working slowly into things tonight. Tonight, Jake was entirely in control.

Roughly, quickly, he lifted you by the hips, before pushing you right back down onto his cock, making you cry out in ecstasy. It was only a moment before he lifted you right back up again, then shoving you back down onto him, giving you no rest from the sudden and overwhelming pleasure. His sense of timing, perfected from years of playing guitar, was more obvious than ever as he started to build up a rhythm that was dizzying in its relentless repetition. The way he was filling you up felt so fucking good, and it only intensified when Jake began to fuck up into you while pressing you down onto him, getting deeper and deeper with every thrust. You couldn’t hold back anymore, starting to moan out his name as he fucked you.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Jake groaned out, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead onto his chest, “Such a good girl… taking my cock so fucking well. Goddamn. So fuckin’ filthy.”

“Fuck, fuck, thank you, Daddy,” you were moaning, broken sounds falling nonstop from your lips as Jake slammed his cock into you, but when your eyes threatened to roll back into your head, he once again took your jaw in his large hand, forcing your gaze to stay on his.

“I told you to keep your fucking eyes on me when I fuck you.”

You whimpered, biting your lip, Jake’s relentless pounding hitting you right where it felt the best, the angle at which he was fucking you giving him perfect access to your sweet spot.

“I’m sorry, Daddy, fuck, fuck, don’t stop!” you begged, the combination of his cock filling you up and that low, sexy voice of his right in your ear completely emptying your mind of any other thoughts besides how fucking good he was making you feel.

Jake was speeding up now, and it was getting harder and harder for you to keep your eyes on him with the pleasure building so intensely within you. You knew you were close, and his labored gasps and breathless growls made it clear that he wasn’t far behind.

“Fuck, baby… that perfect pussy… she’s gripping me so fuckin’ tight,” he was groaning against you, and you were nodding desperately and moaning out obscenities, tears forming in your eyes from the unyielding ecstasy. One of your arms was still around his shoulders, while the other had a white-knuckled grip on his silver necklace as you rolled your hips in time with his thrusts.

He must’ve been able to tell you were close by the way your thighs began to shake, the way your moans turned into desperate, tiny whimpers, because you didn’t even have to say a word before Jake sucked his pointer and middle fingers into his mouth, getting them nice and slick before lowering them to trace tight circles onto your clit.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was all so much; so deliciously overstimulating— Jake’s cock deep in your pussy, his fingers working your clit just right, his dark eyes looking at you so intently that even the act of him simply watching you as you fell apart felt so fantastically filthy and sinful.

“Does my little slut wanna cum?” Jake growled through gritted teeth, still thrusting up into you as he managed one of those patronizing smirks that drove you wild, “Not yet. Not until I say so.”

You let out a desperate whine, whimpering weakly, “Jake— fuck, please, Daddy.” Every word took all of your focus and energy to stammer out, with Jake surrounding what felt like every inch of your body, from his cock pumping in and out of you, to his fingers on your clit, and the heat of his skin against yours.

“Be a good girl now,” he continued between grunts, fucking you deep and hard, his lust-blown eyes never once leaving yours, “I’m gonna count down. Then… and only then… you cum on my fucking cock.”

You managed to make the only sound you could— a whimper that sounded so pathetic and slutty you hardly recognized your own voice. Trying to find words now would be hopeless. It was all so much. It felt so fucking good. Tears began to spill from your eyes as Jake’s thick cock slammed against your g-spot over and over again, in perfect time with his calloused fingers relentlessly circling your clit.

He chuckled condescendingly. You could tell— he knew you were too fucked out to answer him.

“Here we go, princess… five…”

You were trembling, moments away from the edge, utilizing every bit of energy you had left to hold off the orgasm that threatened to overtake you any second.

“Four… three…”

You could barely breathe. Every sensation, every feeling, was layered on top of one other. The pressure on your clit. Jake’s eyes, watching you unravel. The feeling of his cock swelling inside of you as he pounded into your cunt. His other hand still gripping your hip for leverage, surely leaving bruises in the shape of his fingerprints.

“Two…”

He leaned right in, giving you a look so fucking intense and hungry that you felt yourself go lightheaded, that heat building, building… so close, so fucking close… he just had to say…

“One. Cum for me. Fucking cum.”

The moment the command left his lips, it was all over. The white-hot coil within you snapped, and your body was overtaken with bliss, shaking uncontrollably as you clenched down onto him, the feeling of your release all around him making Jake groan out a pornographic, “Oh, fuck.”

He kept up his pace as he fucked you and worked your clit through your orgasm, repeatedly biting his lower lip in concentration as he groaned out, “That’s it, baby, give it to me, soak my fucking cock.” The pleasure was dizzying, damn near overwhelming, and through your haze it was impossible to tell for just how long he helped prolong your climax while chasing his own.

With a delicious moan and a string of obscenities, Jake pulled out of your cunt just in time, thrusting into his hand and covering your stomach in his cum. Even through your post-orgasmic haze, the sight of him cumming all over you was so incredibly filthy you found yourself whimpering all over again, watching him through glazed-over eyes as he rode out his high.

When you both finally collapsed onto each other, panting, covered in sweat and cum, Jake groaned out a breathless, “Holy fuck,” before taking his hand and running it through your hair. There was a tenderness in his gaze and a softness in his tone as he asked, “Are you okay, baby?”

You nodded, slowly but surely coming back down to Earth. When you managed a dazed grin, he chuckled a little, smirking affectionately. He leaned in to press a kiss to your lips— this one far more gentle, but no less passionate. When Jake pulled back, he breathed out, “That was so fucking hot, baby… goddamn. You’re something else.”

You felt a blush creep up in your cheeks as he stroked your hair, then your back, his tender touches grounding you as you caught your breath against his chest. It was only after a good long while, once the stickiness on your stomachs became too much to bear, that he helped you to your feet, your thighs already feeling a familiar ache, knees still wobbling a bit. By now, you had found your words, and you thanked him, giggling shyly despite yourself.

He wrapped a plush towel around you, cleaning you up as best as he could, grabbing another towel for himself. It was after this, though, that he spoke.

“Come back to the hotel with me tonight.”

His words took you by surprise. Yes, you’d been to his hotel rooms before— but generally, you’d head there in order to fuck, not after it already had taken place. He must’ve been able to read your expression, because he continued, “I wanna take care of you, baby. It’s the least I can do… there’s a jacuzzi, we can get a nice bath going for you… and there’s a king-sized bed…”

And… you were blushing again. Of course.

You chewed on your bottom lip with nervous excitement, your heart already starting to beat faster. “Jake… that sounds perfect.” He smiled at you, looking utterly radiant, and you felt butterflies in your stomach all over again as he put his arm around you. “C’mon, gorgeous… let’s get you some of my clothes to put on. I’ve got a sweatshirt in here somewhere…”

As you melted into his touch, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. The night was only just beginning.

••••••••••••••••••••

A/N: thank you so so much for reading!! i would absolutely love to hear your thoughts either in the notes or through tumblr DMs. my ask box is always open for filthy thoughts, and i’m always looking for more gvf friends to discuss with 🥰 i’m also starting a taglist for any new fics i post, so be sure to let me know if you want to be added! XO, li

[prolix-yuy]

On the Right Flight

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader

Summary: A long flight with a gorgeous neighbor takes a hard turn when you get on his favorite subject - Nicholas Cage.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, allusions to sex, PiV sex, brief hint of voyeurism, lots of fantasizing, we are Looking Disrespectfully, plenty of sweetness dumped on top.

Notes: I had the worst writers block for this, but then went on a plane and remembered all the fun/not fun things about flying. Plus traveling for the holidays would be greatly improved with a dose of Javi.

I apologize for one moment and one moment only in this story. You'll know what I mean when you get there.

Cross-posted on AO3

For once, you pray to the gods of airline transportation, let there be no one in the window seat.

It’s futile, you know. It’s LA to Boston and you’ve never seen an empty seat, but you’re hoping that this one time you’ll get a little respite. You’re already fed up with having to pay extra for an emergency row seat, no other options left on the only flight that gets you to your parents in time. Then the dread of endless questions about your work (fine), love life (dismal) and future plans (???) just adds to your crankiness. It’s the holidays, you’re going home, and you could use a holiday miracle. 

At least the expansive legroom is a plus.

You like LA, but no snow in December is weird. Growing up in places where snowfall is a guarantee makes you miss it all the more when towering evergreens are carted into the Grove and fake snow looks strangely post-apocalyptic against a 75 degree sunny day. It doesn’t feel right without the tip of your nose being perpetually cold and a scarf devouring you from shoulder to chin. 

Plus you still have a handful of presents to get, and the anticipation of a long flight is making you antsy about your procrastination. There are still a couple days, but one present has eluded you this year and you’re getting desperate.

“Excuse me.”

A polite voice, Spanish accented, lifts over the murmurs and rumbles of the plane. Your heart sinks briefly.

“Sorry, is this your seat?” you ask, sliding your shoulder bag out of the way before getting a good look at the man waiting in the aisle.

And you do get a good look.

A long one.

Probably uncomfortably long.

But holy hell he’s gorgeous.

He definitely doesn’t belong in coach, and if the cogs in your brain could turn at all you might have asked him if he was in the right aisle, but instead you numbly stare as he steps around your knees. He nods with a tight smile, tucking his elbows and broad shoulders as he squashes into the small window seat. Against the dull beige and navy of the walls and seats he’s a cream and maroon dream, a lightweight striped jacket barely zipped over a white shirt. Tan chinos hug his thick thighs as he twists to find the seat belt, a tiny slip of his tan stomach peeking out. You look up desperately at the flight attendant, whose expression is almost as shocked as yours, before settling back into your seat. 

Six and a half hours next to this golden god might actually be a Christmas miracle, but not one you’d ever dream to wish for.

You follow basic plane etiquette, pretending he isn’t there as you arrange your belongings just how you like them. Without a seat directly in front of you most of your supplies remain stuffed in your bag - a bottle of water, your iPad loaded with movies and tv shows, snacks easily in reach, headphones at the ready. You do sneak a peek at your seatmate’s luscious caramel curls, the intriguing curve of his nose, the perfect dip above his chin where pursed lips tempt.

Stop it, you scold yourself, you’re not in a goddamn Hallmark movie.

“Sorry,” comes that rich voice again, heavily apologetic as he waves to get your attention. Pretending you just noticed him - very smooth, you praise yourself - you turn and nod with your best people-pleaser smile. “I am not sure how to make all this work,” he sighs, mouth downturned and brow knitted. A wild gesture to the lack of a tray table, or entertainment display, makes you bite back a smile.

Hot and hopeless? Oh no.

“The tray is in the armrest, you have to flip it out. Same for the TV screen. The headphone jack is here,” you indicate quietly, though your elderly aisle neighbor is not paying much attention, “and you can plug in your phone here,” you add, tapping at the ports in the armrest. His face lights up, then falls when he fails to have the correct cable. You’re not normally this forward with someone you just met, but there’s something about the fish out of water routine that’s making you bold.

“Here, you can share mine, I won’t need it much for the flight,” you offer, fishing the other end of your cord out of your bag. The man’s face breaks into relief - you’ve never seen so many expressions in such a short time - before he thanks you over and over. It makes heat tingle at the tips of your ears and the back of your neck.

“You must think I am quite foolish,” he murmurs when he finally settles into his seat, wincing at the stiffness. 

“Don’t fly coach much?” you ask, fighting your smirk when he throws up his hands, the gesture too big for the tiny space he’s occupying.

“Can you believe every plane was booked for two weeks? My assistant barely got me on this one!” he groans, and the tiniest part of you loves the plight of an obvious mucky-muck living like the plebeians. His face turning to you, capturing you in an intensely focused gaze, dries out your mouth.

“You are laughing,” he states, more incredulity heaped on. You can’t help the smile and snort that eke out of your unwilling mouth.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…you gotta know how silly that sounds,” you say, flight attendants beginning safety demonstrations in the aisle. You lower your voice further. “My assistant had to book me in coach because it’s three days before Christmas, oh the humanity!” 

For a moment you’re nervous you’ve offended him, the blank expression he pins you with making you fiddle with your fingers. Then he covers his face, a thick gold pinky ring only adding to the ridiculousness of the situation.

“You are right, I sound like the worst sort of person. My apologies, I will try to be a better seat-mate.” You shake your head, waving your hand at his apology before settling back into the seat. “I’m Javi, by the way,” he says, and you give him your name in return. He repeats it back to you, along with another few apologies, before leaning over to finish settling himself for the flight. The plane begins taxing, and the telltale rumble of the jets lulls you into closing your eyes. 

Your right arm is warm, pressed against something amazingly comfortable. Considering snuggling into it, you’re shocked awake remembering you’re on a plane and you’ve accidentally slumped against the golden man - Javi’s - arm. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, straightening, but he only smiles (holy shit can he get more attractive?) and shrugs.

“We are all on this plane together, what is a little touch?” he whispers back before returning to scrolling through an iPad. His is bigger, the nice pro version that’s almost the size of an actual computer. You begin to settle back into your plane nap when a hefty list of titles flash by.

“That’s a lot of Nic Cage,” you comment sotto voce, the rumble and white noise of the plane keeping your conversation relatively private. Javi looks at you blankly, one eyebrow quirked.

“He is my favorite actor,” he says, and the seriousness of this statement bleats a little laugh from your lips. This furrows his brow further, though his eyes do dart to your mouth briefly.

“Sorry, it’s not funny, it’s just…serendipity,” you say, adding more confusion to Javi’s face. You wave your hands, centering yourself.

“You celebrate Christmas?” you ask, and he nods, confused. “Okay, so every Christmas I’ve got this tradition with my sister. It all started one year when she said she didn’t like Nic Cage movies.”

“How could she dislike one of the greatest actors in film history?” Javi interrupts, now half perched in his seat and animated, hands flying. It makes you lose your train of thought, those soft brown eyes now shockingly sharp. You swallow once before continuing.

“I don’t think she hates him or anything, she just thinks he’s silly, and plays a lot of goofy roles.” At this Javi flops back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his face. The dramatics are making you giddy, a frenetic energy barely contained in your body as you try not to disturb the quiet travelers surrounding you.

“Has she never seen Raising Arizona? Con Air?” he interrogates, counting several more movies you didn’t even know he was in. Shrugging, you watch his face fall.

“She got through Ghost Rider and Face/Off before she called it quits,” you say, shoulders shaking at the exasperation rolling off his broad ones. 

“Please don’t tell me you feel the same,” Javi pleads. You shake your head.

“He’s made some…questionable choices, but I unironically love Lord of War, and National Treasure is just fun to watch,” you say, the flight attendants starting beverage service. 

“Thank goodness,” he grumbles, folding up his iPad to have enough space. The flight attendant moves to take drink orders, a professional smile following, “Something for you?”

“Champagne,” Javi says, almost off-hand, which shoots the flight attendant’s eyebrows up to his hairline. Warmed by conversation, you test a tease.

“You’re not in first class anymore, Toto, try a vodka.” Javi’s cheeks pink, but he does order a vodka soda instead. You begin to order a ginger ale when Javi interrupts.

“No no, it’s a long flight, you should have a drink too,” he says, the confused flight attendant’s eyes darting between your conversation.

“Oh no, that’s all right…”

“You drink, yes?”

“I do.”

“Then you should have a drink.”

“I, uh…”

Javi addresses the flight attendant directly, and where embarrassment radiated off him before is now confidence.

“She’ll have a drink on me,” he says definitively, and when he catches your eye there’s a sweet smile that makes your heart pound. “You should have a drink with me.”

Moments later you’re sipping on your own vodka soda and the flight attendant is giving you an approving nod as he moves on to the next row. 

“So your sister does not like Nic…” Javi prompts, your story brought back to the forefront sharply. 

“Yes, right! So after she told me this, I was looking for her Christmas present and found this ridiculous pillow on Amazon that I had to get her. It’s sequins, and when you brush them a certain way…”

“...you can see a photo of Nic,” Javi finishes, to your surprise. “I have the same one.”

“Get out, you do not!” you reprimand, the vodka starting to warm your blood and loosen your tongue. 

“I do! It’s part of my collection.”

“You have a collection?!”

The next half hour is spent slowly sipping your drink and enjoying the hell out of Javi’s extensive Nic Cage collection, complete with photos. The wax statue is a little much, but the golden guns are pretty badass. You’re half distracted with Javi’s proximity, leaned in to flip through his photos, shoulder to shoulder. Tart orange peel and the clean musk of some expensive cologne engulfs your senses. Add the relaxing effects of the booze and you’re actively trying not to cuddle up to this stranger with an insane amount of movie memorabilia. 

“But you have not told me what your sister and Nic have to do with Christmas?” Javi finally says, leaning back in his seat and finishing his drink. 

“Okay, okay, so after that first Christmas it’s a tradition every year. I get her some silly Nic Cage thing, she pretends to get mad about it, and we all have a good laugh. So far it’s been the pillow, a shirt, a mug, and a really awful coloring book.” Javi shakes his head and laughs, catching the flight attendant’s eye to bring another round of drinks. You’re pretty sure that’s not how it works in coach, but Javi’s charisma gets him two nips and two glasses of ice palmed to him surreptitiously. If only you had that charm.

“So what is the gift this year? Pants? Shoelaces?” he teases, pouring your drinks. 

“That’s the problem! I haven’t found it yet! I’ve looked everywhere for the perfect gift and I am coming up empty!” You slump back in your seat, accepting the second drink with a wry smile. “I’m gonna break my streak.”

“I may be able to help you with that,” Javi says with a sly little smile, looking at you over the top of his cup. 

“Something out of your collection? I’m sure you’ve got some fun things in there you’re not showing me,” you say, altitude and alcohol making that come out flirtier than you expected. 

“Even better. I know Nic,” he says, beginning a standoff between your incredulous face and his smug one.

“You’re joking.”

“I wrote a screenplay, he was the lead. We’re good friends.”

You have to bury your mouth in your elbow to keep from screeching like a pterodactyl.

“You’re fucking with me, really?”

“He came and stayed at my home. He’s an incredible man - talented, kind, humble, funny. I could call him up the second we land and have him record something for your sister. It would be the ultimate gift.” 

You have to admit, that would be incredible. A personalized message from Nic Cage himself? Your sister would shit a brick. You would win Christmas for sure. 

“And what would you want in return for being my Christmas miracle?” you ask, but Javi only shakes his head good-naturedly.

“Only the pleasure of your company,” he says breezily. You scoff at that.

“I don’t think my company is quite worth that.”

“I do.”

The air thickens around you, not daring to look up and see what expression Javi is wearing. Instead you let your finger run the circuit of your cup rim, hot flashes bursting along your collar. Your heartbeat thuds with twin thoughts - yes yes yes and not worthy. 

Some air would probably do you good. You excuse yourself to the restroom and lock the door firmly behind you. 

The tiny plastic sink is grounding under your hands, the hum of alcohol in your blood receding. A glance at yourself in the mirror makes you grimace - disheveled, tired eyes, rumpled loungewear that suits plane travel but not handsome strangers chatting you up. You splash a little water on your face, fortifying yourself for the return to your seat. Anyways, Javi’s out of your league, fun only because you’re trapped in a plane together. He clearly has money or comes from money, and once outside this pressurized tube you’d never be able to hold a candle to the life he has. 

So stop fucking fantasizing about what you would do if he opened that door right now and joined you in this tiny bathroom. If he’d be soft and sweet, plying you with passionate kisses as he lifted you to balance on the edge of the sink. Or maybe those flashes of focus you kept glimpsing were signs of a man who would fuck you hard and fast, time a factor but attentive to your pleasure. Would he urge you to bite down on his shoulder to muffle your cries before he spills his seed on your inner thighs?

Are you fucking rhyming now?

Sighing, you open the door and run almost directly into the man himself, a sheepish smile on his face. Your face is on fire, nodding and smiling as you pass in the tiny space outside the bathroom. Returning to your seat you try to center yourself, but a tap on your arm directs you to your forgotten aisle neighbor. She smiles conspiratorially.

“He’s single,” she says simply, eyes sparkling, and you share a secret giggle at her wingmanning your chance encounter. “And he’s clearly interested, trust me. If you don’t get his number you’ll be kicking yourself later,” she adds before going back to her show. Javi returns soon after, a few wet trails in his hair and a fresh face.

“It is not so bad in coach,” he muses, pulling out his iPad and opening up his library. 

“Even without the champagne?” you toss back, getting your own entertainment set up. The distance beginning to grow between you dampens your mood, fingers uncertain as they fiddle with the tech. 

“Even without the champagne,” Javi sighs back with a wink. He scrolls through and settles on something before looking up at you, lips parted around a question. You wait with baited breath.

“Do you…want to watch a movie with me?” he asks tentatively. “I was going to watch a favorite of mine, if you want me to AirDrop it to you?”

Heart fluttering but trying to keep your cool, you nod. “What movie?”

“Paddington 2.”

After all the Nic Cage talk, this takes you by surprise.

“I’ve never seen it.”

Javi’s face breaks out in joy.

“Then we have to watch it.”

How could you say no to that smile?

Syncing pressing play, you both settle in to watch the children’s movie. It’s honestly really good, Javi occasionally leaning over to whisper commentary in your ear. The tickle of his breath against the baby hairs along your nape is a delicious shudder you savor. 

After Paddington 2, it’s airline lunch, which Javi pokes at with an mistrusting face. You share some snacks between you as he queues up National Treasure, “the perfect movie for flying,” which leads you to debate whether that title should belong to Con Air.

It’s halfway through the movie (which still stands up after all these years) when your eyelids begin to pull, settling deeper into your uncomfortable seat. Javi peeks through his lashes, sliding a little closer.

“If you would like to close your eyes, you can lean on me,” he says with gentle hesitancy. 

“Don’t want to be a bother,” you protest, a yawn interrupting further thoughts. Javi gives you that soft smile you don’t feel worthy of receiving.

“What is a little touch between friends?” he says, an echo of his previous sentiment.

Everything, you think to yourself before resting your head against his warm shoulder. 

You dream of Javi between your legs in the plane bathroom, holding you tight to his chest as he fills you with his cock. He is whispering movie trivia to you, punctuating his thrusts with facts your mind can’t grip. Legs spread wide, head bumping against the mirror behind you, he pushes you higher and higher, hips snapping into your core. The door opens - Nic Cage pokes his head in, asking Javi about changes to a script. Javi pulls back to talk to him as he keeps fucking you senseless, swapping ideas as your orgasm hovers on the precipice. He turns back to your pleading face before absentmindedly licking his thumb and pressing it on your clit.

“Want to watch her cum, Nic?” he asks, your eyes rolling back in your head. 

A jolt of turbulence shocks you awake, your body in unbalanced arousal from that confusing dream. A wide palm strokes along your forearm, Javi’s rumbling hum right next to your ear.

“It is okay, conejita,” he murmurs, your mind blearily taking in how far you’ve leaned on him, his hand on your arm, his mouth moving against the crown of your head. “Only a few bumps, you can sleep.”

“What’s conny…” you mumble, but close your eyes at his urging. He breathes a puff of air into your scalp.

“You twitch your nose when you’re sleeping, like a bunny,” he says, hand slowing to only his thumb caressing your skin. Humming in response, you slip back under, thankfully into a dreamless sleep. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been when you finally rise, neck stiff and fingers tingling. Javi’s watching something in black and white, a man and a woman having an animated conversation. Straightening up, you wipe the corner of your mouth and pray you didn’t drool. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Javi teases, “they said we should be landing in an hour.” The rapidly approaching deadline makes you wish you hadn’t passed out, even if it was the most comfortable you’ve ever been on a plane. You want to ask Javi more about himself, the life he leads, the movies he loves. But the flight attendants are making the rounds, stilling your tongue. This is only a chance meeting, nothing more. 

The landing is smooth and uneventful, both of you watching the Boston skyline come into view. You ask Javi if he’s ever been before and when he responds in the negative you point out popular landmarks, the Leonard Zakim Bridge the easiest to spot.

De-boarding is always a mess, but with the extra legroom it’s easy to get your carry-on out quickly. Javi helps you get it down, pulling his own out as well. You stand and stretch your legs, admiring how Javi's shirt pulls across his back while he packs his belongings. 

With nods and smiles and “thank yous” said on the way out, you’re free from the tight confines and in the open air of Logan. It’s nothing fancy, but it feels like homecoming whenever you enter the familiar airport. 

“Walk you to baggage claim?” you ask, Javi’s expression blooming from uncertainty to agreement. You savor the last dregs of conversation, Javi telling you he’s visiting family friends on the Cape for a few weeks. The time to part is nearing, but you don’t know what you want to ask. For his email? His number? Could you really ask for anything?

Bags in hand and a man in a suit with a printed “Gutierrez” sign looking pointedly at Javi, you finally square up to your unlikely friend.

“Thanks for a fun flight, I can’t say I’ve had a better one,” you start, Javi waving his hands in protest.

“A pleasure for me as well.” The awkwardness mounts as Javi’s driver fidgets impatiently. Girding yourself, you speak.

“I should probably…”

“I need your number.”

Javi’s blurted out request stops your goodbye, eyes widening. His do too as he stumbles to explain, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

“For the video! From Nic. For your sister. I promised, didn’t I? And you were very good company, I must keep up my side of the deal,” he rushes out, flushing high in his cheeks. You couldn’t stop beaming if you tried.

“Yeah, you’re right, you’re gonna help me win Christmas for sure,” you say, typing your number into his phone. Relief dances in his eyes as you hand the phone back, sending a quick “It’s Javi” text to you. “You only have three days to get it, though, you’re on the clock.” 

“Nic will come through, I know it,” he says, hands wrapping around your upper arms. He hesitates, then pulls you into a hug that blocks out the sweat and grime and frustration of the world around you. Orange peel and warmth fill your nostrils, and you hug him back, face tucking under the light scruff of his jaw. He holds you for longer than you expect but just long enough to know you’ll miss being hugged like this.

“Take care, conejita,” he says, watching you over his shoulder as he leaves. You wait for him to be out of sight before heading on your way.

Christmas morning, after all the presents are opened, coffee is drunk and cheer is spread, you pair your phone to your parent’s TV and play a video message.

“Hi Clara, this is Nic Cage. My friend Javi told me you were one of my biggest fans. Now I don’t know if you can compete with him, but if he says so I have to think it’s at least a little bit true. So to my biggest fan, Merry Christmas, happy holidays, happy new year, and if you’re ever nearby I owe you a photo, a handshake, and some thanks for all your support. Take care.”

Your sister is in stitches, laughing on the floor and interrogating you about how you pulled it off. For now, your lips are sealed. 

The other video message, sent right after, you keep as your own Christmas present. 

“I told you he would come through, conejita! Merry Christmas, I hope you are spending it with the ones you love. Maybe we will be on the same flight back to LA and I will get to see you again? Or...ah, I have no plans for New Years…and you know, it’s bad luck to start the new year without a kiss. If you…would like to be mine, this year, maybe I can take you out. Yes. I would like to take you out. Please. If you want. Okay, let me…let me know. Okay, bye.”

You would very much like that.

END

Part 2: A Bearable Weight

[carringtonsgf]

𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝟏𝟖𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: lil skies x sls!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which sls friends surprise her tickets to go see her favorite person in concert.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing,smoking,smut.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.0k

today was sls birthday and her friends were surpising her with front row tickets to see her favorite artist ever lil skies.

it was her 18th birthday and mikayla and nate wanted it to be memorable for her. she was getting ready because her friends had told her to get ready and theyd pick her up soon because they had a surprise.

she was currently sat at her vanity finishing her makeup as she was listening to lil skies. she had on some eyeliner,lashes and a little bit of blush and some highlight topping it off with some red lipstick.

she put her hair down fixing it then got up walking over to her closet to pick out her outfit. she decided on a red leather jacket with a black tube top and some black denim shorts and a pair of black converse.

she sprayed on some perfume and grabbed her purse and phone and went to the living room waiting for her friends to pick her up.

she snapped a few pictures of herself and made a few tiktoks of her to some skies songs while she waited.

she had no clue what hersurprise was so she was feeling and nervous and decided to post a tiktok.

she replied to a few comments and got a text from nate saying they were here.

she grabbed her bag and went out to mikaylas car getting in the front with her as nate sat in the back.

“you ready for your surprise bitch!?” mikayla asked as the girl got into the car.

“bitch im scared” she laughed.

“good you should be.” nate said.

“shut the fuck up nate!” the girl laughed as mikayla started to head to their destination.

.•°♡°•.

as they got to the venue of the concert theyre surprising sls with nate blindfolded the girl.

“nate is this necessary?” the girl said.

“yes sls you cant know what your surprise is just yet.” he laughed as he got out of the car helping her out.

nate held sls hand as he lead her to the venue while mikayla was recording for sls vlog.

as they got to the venue they stood infront of the big sign that says “LIL SKIES BOSTON MA. JULY 4th SOLD OUT”.

all the girl could hear was loud music and people talking. “where the fuck did you guys take me.” she said.

mikayla gave nate a look indicating that the girl could take off the blindfold.

“okay sls go ahead and take your blindfold off and turn around.” nate said.

sls took off her blindfold and turned around and saw the big sign and let out a loud scream.

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?” she said as she started to get teary eyed.

“happy birthday sls.” nate said pulling her into a hug.

“thank you both so much holy fuck”she said.

“youre welcome” they both said.

.•°♡°•.

it had been two hours since they were inside the venue and the concert started 10 minutes ago.

sls was living her best life being at barricade and screaming all the lyrics to his songs and recording a bit.

currently kill4u was playing thru the speakers as skies was singing along and sls was screaming the lyrics as he suddenly made eye contact with her.

“SAID WOULD YOU SHOOT FOR ME BECAUSE I WOULD KILL4U!” sls screamed as she pointed at him.

suddenly skies had the dj stop the song as he looked directly at sls. “damn baby you’re sexy asf. and you know all my songs shit shawty.”skies said as he was looking directly at sls.

“me??” she pointed to herself and he nodded.

“yeah baby you with the red leather jacket.” he said.

she let out a big scream and had tears running down her cheeks as he went on with the show.

for the rest of the show he kept coming over to where she was and they kept singing the lyrics together.

there were fans of her and her brothers there and the clips they recorded instantly spread all over tiktok.

the show ended and it was now time for sls to go get inline for the meet and greet.

she was very anxious and nervous to actually get to talk to him and see him after their little interaction during the show.

she was in the middle of the line and she was waiting for her turn.

.•°♡°•.

it was finally her turn to meet skies and she could feel tears run down her cheeks as she walked up to him.

“oh shit baby you the sexy one” he chuckled but instantly pulled her into his arms when he saw her crying.

“shhh its okay.” he said as he rubbed her back.

“sorry im just so excited to meet you youre my favorite artist ever.” she said as she hugged him.

“i feel honoured baby.” he chuckled.

she pulled away from the hug looking at him. “its also my 18th birthday and my friends surprised with tickets to see you” she said.

“well shit happy birthday baby.” he said pulling her into another hug.

“meet me backstage in 10. i wanna make your birthday memorable” he said.

she blushed and they took a few pictures before she walked off so he could finish up the meet and greet.

.•°♡°•.

it had been about ten minutes since the meet and greet finished and skies told the security to let sls backstage with him.

sls was now sitting on the back of the tour bus with skies and they were talking about how long she had been a fan and everything and skies was flirting with her.

“you wanna smoke this blunt with me baby?” skies said and she nodded.

he lit the blunt and pulled her into his lap as he started puffing on it then handed it to her.

“you having a good birthday?” he asked her.

“fuck yeah.” she smiled softly as she was puffing on the blunt then handing it back to him.

he smiled as he puffed on the blunt with one hand on her waist.

14 year old sls would be freaking out if she knew she would be sitting on skies lap smoking a blunt with him on her 18th birthday.

“wanna shotgun this blunt baby?” he asked.

“mmm yes daddy.” she giggled.

skies took a big puff of the blunt inhaling then grab her face blowing the smoke into her mouth as she inhaled the smoke and he pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

he put out the blunt grabbing her face again as he kissed her again this time deepening the kiss.

the girl wrapped her hands around his neck as her hands found their way into his hair as the kiss grew heated and his tounge was exploring her mouth.

she felt his errection growing under her and started grinding her core down on him causing him to let out a moan.

he pulled away from the kiss as he leaned into her kissing her neck as he left red and purple marks all across her neck as he removed the jacket off of her.

he leaned down kissing her chest as he ripped off her tube top and took a titty into his mouth as he played with the other one with his hand.

she let out a soft moan as she grinded herself on him as he was sucking and leaving marks all over her titties.

he pulled off of her titties and attached his lips back to hers before she pulled away and started to leave wet kisses all across his neck biting and sucking on a few spots.

“fuck baby your lips feel so good on my neck im tryna have them wrapped around my dick.” he said.

“anything for you daddy.” she said as she got off of his lap and onto her knees as she unbuckled his belt and slid off his pants causing his dick to spring out and hit his stomach.

he sat back and watched her as she took him into his mouth starting to bob her head as she wrapped her hand around stroking what she didnt have in her mouth as she made eye contact with him.

“fuck baby just like that.” he said as he grabbed the half smoked blunt lighting it and starting to puff on it.

he grabbed her hair with his freehand pushing her head down on his dick as she had her hands on his thighs for support.

once he finished the blunt he pulled her off of his dick and back onto his lap as he kissed her.

“let me fuck you baby.” he said to her.

“please do daddy.” she giggled.

with that he bent her over on the couch ripping her shorts as he slid them off of her as he ripped her panties off.

“those were my clothesss” she whined.

“dont worry baby ill let you wear my clothes once im finished” he said as he brushed his tip against her folds teasing her causing her to moan.

he held onto her hips tightly as he pushed into her starting to thrust as he slapped her ass a few times watching it jiggle as he was fucking into her.

“oh my god dadddyyy” she moaned out as he pounded into her.

“yeah?feel good baby? you like that rapper dick huh?” he said as he was gripping onto her hips so hard it would leave bruises.

“f-fuck” she moaned out as her eyes were rolling back in pleasure.

she started clenching around him as he leaned down kissing her back as his chains were hitting her back.

“pussy so fuckin good baby.” he moaned as he started to pull her hair.

“i wanna ride you” she moaned out.

“yeah you wanna ride this dick baby?” he said.

“please.”she said.

with that he pulled out and sat back down pulling her onto him lowering her onto his dick as she felt him stretching her out.

she pulled his shirt off of him and started to bounce on him as he leaned his hand down grabbing her ass guiding her on his dick.

she let out a loud string of moans as he suddenly grabbed her and started thrusting up into her hitting her gspot causing her to clench around him.

“gonna cum daddy”she said as her nails left scratches all over his back.

“cum for me baby cum all over this dick”he said as he left a few more marks all across her neck.

she grinded her hips into his as she felt herself cumming around him coating his dick with her cum as she moaned his name.

he thrusted up into her letting her come down from her high as he started to twitch inside of her.

he bit down on her shoulder as he shot his load inside of her filling her up.

he stayed inside of her for a few seconds as they caught their breaths and just enjoy the moment of them being close as he kissed her a few times.

suddenly her phone started to get blew up with texts and calls from mikayla and nate asking where she was.

“those are my friends i should probably get going.” she said as she looked at him.

he sighed. “i dont want you to leave.” he said.

“i know i dont wanna leave you but my friends are waiting on me.” she said.

he pulled out of her kissing her a few more times before sitting her down beside him.

“let me grab you some clothes then i guess ill let you get back to them baby.” he said.

she nodded as he got up and went and grabbed her a hoodie a clean pair of boxers and some of his sweats.

“here you go baby. you can keep these and remember the night we had together.” he said.

she nodded and stood up dressing herself as he threw on a pair of sweats.

“let me walk you outside of the bus?” he asked.

“okay.” she said with a small smile.

and with that he walked her outside and gave her a hug kissing her a few times telling her how enjoyed their night together.

YN.STURNIOLO POSTED ON HER INSTAGRAM STORY!

[happilysmythe]

❥ 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣

trent frederic.

word count: 4.0k

warning: explicit content

"let it happen (it's gonna feel so good)" — tame impala

A/N: this fic was inspired by the locker room raw of trent from december of 2022, gifed above. if you’d like to watch it, you can here. enjoy, and as always, happy reading!

- - -

Being a reporter isn’t all it’s made out to be when you’re harboring something that could put your career at risk.

Yet that’s exactly what you were doing, working as a journalist for the Boston Bruins.

Being in the presence of sweaty, large hockey players was something you’d inevitably have to get used to when working the field that you did. However, you never seemed to struggle with it. When people asked, you always told them that you’d simply set any minor attractions aside and focus on your work, rather than your desires. It was easy.

Until Trent Frederic came into the picture.

Something about him caught your attention the first time you stood in his proximity amongst the other reporters. He wasn’t attractive in the conventional way you knew the other players were. Most people would say he was “cute”, or “good-looking”, but that was the extent. So maybe that was it. Maybe it was his eyes, or his freckles, or the curls that poked out from under his hats.

Or maybe it was simply how fucking gorgeous he was to you, regardless of anyone else’s opinion.

That being said, you were frustrated; frustrated with yourself for letting his appearance get to you, even though you fought yourself daily for years to make sure it never happened. You knew that, at some point, someone would get the best of you, and unfortunately, he just happened to be that someone. You wanted to blame him. To take some of the pressure off of yourself for once. You wanted him and his goddamned charm to be at fault instead of you.

It’s the way he looks at you, you’d tell yourself. He’s trying to get a rise. He has to be. After all this time, you can’t be that weak.

Right?

But you knew that you were. You were weak for him. And it was just about the most unprofessional thing you could do in your position.

“What do you think it’s going to be like—to be in this type of environment?” the first reporter’s voice sounded, blinking you out of your already nervous state as you stood beside Trent.

“Uh, it kinda reminds me of a Penn State,” he replied, hand coming up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “Or kinda like the, uh…What is it, Yost Arena in Michigan?”

The reporter nodded to confirm his statement. “I like those two rinks, so…hopefully, uh—thought we always,” he paused to breathe, “always played well there, so…hopefully it’s similar.”

Then it was your turn to speak up, and when you cleared your throat, his head pivoted in your direction. His eyes followed your voice and landed on you, his chest rising and falling as he awaited your question.

“Are there any adjustments you had to make where you’re playing in a,” you hesitated as you watched his tongue slip past his parted lips, tracing a line from the center of his bottom lip to the corner of his mouth. Your mind did all but ignore this and his audible, heavy breaths. You quickly blinked out of the state.

“In a smaller arena?” you finally continued in a humiliating attempt to sound put-together. “Or—”

“I don’t think so, I think when you’re playing you really only see the first,” he gestured his hand, “ten rows and up, so I think it’ll be fine. About the same.”

His gaze lingered on you for a split second longer than it should’ve before he turned the other way to face Sophia as she asked the next question. And it was then that you were certain he’d picked up on you.

Not to mention him abruptly cutting you off.

A few minutes passed before the cameras cut and the small crowd dispersed, leaving only him and you standing alone in front of his stall. But his voice stopped you before you could even manage a step in the other direction.

“Hey,” he called out calmly, and when you turned back around you were met with the sight of him standing nonchalantly, arms folded in front of him. “I don’t think we’re done yet.”

“…Yeah, we are. We already finished the media, no?”

“The media’s done,” he spoke, straightening himself out and taking a step toward you. “But we’re not done.”

“Well, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, Trent, but I have places to be. So if you’ll kindly excuse me—”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

You were taken aback, no doubt, but knew that you had to oblige him whether you wanted to or not. So you let out a sigh and shook your head.

He slipped off his padding, then silently jerked his head to the side, motioning for you to come with him as he walked down the outside hallway and into the nearest empty room. He promptly shut the door behind him, then walked toward you.

“What is it?” you finally piped up.

“Do you have a thing for me?”

“Wow, okay,” you scoffed, irritation lacing your defensive tone. “Do you have some sort of ego issue, or?”

“Do not play dumb right now,” he rasped, leaning closer. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the looks? The staring? The stuttering?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you rebutted, nostrils flared as you swallowed thickly.

“Oh, so you mean to tell me that I wasn’t just saving your ass back there?”

You sighed, finally letting your guard down as you lowered your voice. “Fine,” you admitted through clenched teeth. “I have a thing for you.”

And just like that, the corner of his lips twitched just slightly, as if he were suppressing a smirk. He finally leaned back and gave you room to breathe, so you seized the opportunity and took a long breath. He remained silent, waiting for you to elaborate.

“No matter how bad I want to act on it, I can’t, because I’m already in deep enough shit for wanting you in the first place,” you flatly explained. “But if we ever got caught for something like that…I’d lose my damn job, Trent. The job that I worked my ass off trying to get, and the one that’s already at enough of a fucking risk because of you.”

You shook your head disappointedly. “So sorry if I’m not getting my words right the first time.”

You brushed past him, trying to make your way toward the door but were quickly brought to a standstill when he spoke up.

“You think you’re the only one in that situation?”

You turned back around to face him, brows knit together in confusion as he stepped closer.

“And before you up and leave, I need to make something clear to you,” he spoke.

“Trent—”

“If I wasn’t attracted to you, I wouldn’t be enabling you like I do. And I sure as hell wouldn’t be trying to help you,” he told you promptly. “So think about that next time you want to think you’re the only one with problems.”

“God, Trent, that’s—this whole thing is beyond unprofessional. On both ends,” you scoffed in disbelief. “And you know that even if I wanted to, I couldn’t do anything with you because it would put me at risk.”

Of course, you wanted to. You were lying straight through your teeth. It was clear as day to Trent, too, because the subtleties told him otherwise—the hint of hesitation lacing your tone and the unease in your expression. But, to be fair, it was difficult to mask. You were already struggling with how inappropriate the whole conversation was.

And after all, nobody said it was easy to stop imagining what someone would taste like.

He stepped closer and your feet carried you backward until you came into contact with the wall behind you. Your head tilted back as you looked up at him, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Not to mention it’s a,” you hesitated, “—a conflict of interest.”

“Write whatever the hell you want about me, because it won’t change how drawn to you I am.” A large hand gently placed itself on your hip, “And it won’t change that I’d take that chance with you.”

The tension in your face softened, sincerity bleeding through his voice as he spoke to you. You took a long, deep breath and—against any remaining shred of logic in your conflicted mind—lifted your hand to his chest, slowly trailing upward until it reached the curls on the back of his neck.

“If we got caught,” you reiterated, “you’d be the player who hooked up with some reporter…And I’d be the slut who couldn’t keep it professional.”

You softened your voice, “I’ve worked too hard to let it all go to waste, Trent.”

“Sounds more like a societal issue than an us issue,” he shrugged, “and last I checked…two adults deciding to get a little physical isn’t exactly illegal.” His voice shifted to a low rasp, “But I can’t wrap my head around why you’re still here, because someone else in your current position wouldn’t still be here unless they’d started to change their mind.”

“God, you’re frustrating,” you muttered. Warm breath hit your lips, forcing you to realize how close he’d become. Your eyes watched as the remaining beads of sweat dripped slowly down his face. “I haven’t considered anything,” you lied.

“Then tell me to stop.”

Your conscience told you to say it; that stupid guilty conscience that you were admittedly fucking tired of. Normally, it would’ve forced you to rattle off all of the reasons you could’ve said it—why you should’ve—but it didn’t. Because every other part of you wanted the complete opposite. Every consequence seemed to evacuate your thoughts, with Trent conveniently replacing each one.

So you finally turned your mind off and let your body take control.

His lips roughly connected with yours and you didn’t protest. You were quickly pinned to the wall by his hips as his fingers untucked your shirt, hooking under the fabric and slipping it up and over your head, allowing it to hit the floor, and his lips hungrily returned to yours. He was too intoxicating to deny, and the feeling of his tongue as it rolled slowly over yours only solidified that fact.

You reached up and pried the baseball cap off his head, tossing it aside and running your hand through his hair, transferring the moisture from his curls to your fingers, beginning to dampen them. Your other hand slipped under the fabric of his shirt, peeling it from his upper body to reveal his toned physique underneath, which you’d only ever caught small glances of. And boy, did it not disappoint.

When his lips left yours, you whimpered at the loss of contact, but they soon returned to your skin, peppering it with kisses as he trailed a path from your shoulder up to your neck, spending extra time there. Your hands traveled to his bare back, palms resting on his shoulder blades as your head tilted to the side, granting him more access.

“We’re—fuck,” you panted, eyes screwed shut, “we’re screwed if someone hears us.”

“That’s why we’re not near the door,” he muttered, kissing up to your jawline. “And also why we’re going to have to be quiet. Sound good?”

You nodded softly, then felt his lips move to your throat, eyes fixated on him as he reached your collarbones. At his movement, your hands lifted and moved to the wall beside you, palms flattened against it. He continued the path downward and lowered himself to his knees. Soft lips could now be felt on your stomach, burning the skin in their path.

Fingers curled into the waistband of the leather skirt hugging your hips and swiftly removed it, with it the lacy material beneath. The cool air of the empty room hit your exposed skin, but you didn’t pay it any mind.

It was all too much when his hands pried your thighs open so he could slip between them.

His warm breath grazed the sensitive skin between your legs. You knew how close he was. Then you were proved right as he gently pressed a trail of kisses from the inside of your thigh up to the flesh between them. His tongue parted your folds, dragging itself up and down slowly, gathering your taste on it.

He let out a groan of approval when your hand darted out, fingers tangling in his hair as you pushed him closer. You wanted—no, needed more, especially when his mouth wrapped around your clit, sucking it gently as his calloused hands wrapped around your thighs, pulling you into him.

He lapped at you hungrily, building you up and forcing you to chase your release. He was no stranger to being between a girl’s legs. He could’ve gone hours with someone’s thighs wrapped around his head. But he never needed to.

And you were going to face the same fate.

“Shit,” you sighed weakly, running your fingers through his damp hair. Heavy breaths filled his ears, your voice breaking through and turning them into soft whimpers.

“Mm,” he hummed against your skin, and your hips slowly, painfully rolled, the grip on your thighs making it near impossible for you to move them enough to give yourself the relief you craved.

But he took this as a sign, holding you tighter as he delved his tongue into you, steadily moving it in and out as he brought you to your breaking point. The thrill of being at such a risk only fueled his fire. Trent always refused to pull away until a girl was properly satisfied. The payoff was as rewarding as ever to him. So why deny someone the pleasure that you were giving them? He never understood it.

Besides, he always got off on seeing a girl come undone so fast.

His name fell from your parted lips in a moan as he flattened his tongue against your clit, that being the final push over the edge. Expert flicks of his tongue worked your body through your release, prolonging the process, and he began to taste you on the tip of it. He collected every last bit, moaning softly in satisfaction as he swallowed.

Finally, he pulled away, pressing a final kiss to your skin before releasing his grip on your thighs and standing up slowly. The grin he donned as he straightened out burned a hole through any remainder of the facade that masked your weakness; the one that made you give in to him unwillingly, without as much as an afterthought. It was too late for regrets. And you didn’t particularly seem to have any.

He watched as your chest rose and fell with each heavy breath as your eyes seemingly fixated on his lips. His thumb came up and wiped the corner of his mouth, then moved in front of his lips for him to lick it clean.

“Keep staring, why don’t ya,” he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“You’ve got some nerve saying that when I could just walk right out,” you quipped.

“Then do it,” he laughed, confidence lacing his expression. “Nobody’s stopping you,” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “But you’d be running quite the risk walking out of here with practically no clothes on, hm?”

“Yeah, as if that’s the only reason I’m not going anywhere,” you rolled your eyes, knowing full well what would happen if you were to waltz out of the room in the state you were in.

Luckily for you and him, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that you’d be moving from your spot.

Weakened legs encircled his waist as he hoisted you up, and your arms wrapped around his neck. His hand reached between you and slid the thin fabric of his pants down just far enough to adjust himself. The other gripped the underside of your thigh, that and the wall supporting your weight as he held you up.

“You think anyone’s looking for us?” you muttered, the pads of your fingers dancing along the skin of his back.

“Probably,” he answered quietly as he lined himself up, and you started to feel the pressure between your legs. “But I don’t care.”

Then, he loosened his hold on you, sliding your body down the wall as he forcefully lowered you onto him. Your lips parted in momentary shock as he stretched your walls. The all-new sensation promptly clouded your vision. Crescent-shaped marks appeared on his skin when your nails dug into it. The size of his wide cock challenged that of any other man you had the unfortunate pleasure of fucking. They made you feel empty. But Trent filled you just right. He was almost too big.

Almost.

When you finally came to, your eyes darted toward his face, quickly meeting his in a forceful gaze. You tried to steady your breaths, but your body refused to allow it until you were fully adjusted to him. Instead, you elicited what sounded like whimpers. And of course, that only drove him more wild.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, brows knitting together as he pulled you up, adjusting you to be more firm in his grasp. “All that professionalism turn you into a prune or something?”

“Shut up,” you retorted, having a sharp intake of breath as he sunk you back down.

He laughed in response. “Mad that I’m right?”

“No,” you were quick to deny. “You’re just,” you hesitated, then cut yourself off sharply, “—just shut up.”

“Sure thing, Miss Reporter.”

That was enough verbal volleying for him and he pulled back, waiting a moment before pushing himself back in. The movement stifled you dead, practically severing your vocal cords as your head fell forward and your forehead promptly connected with his bare shoulder. He groaned in approval as your sensitive walls constricted around his length, his thrusts moving at a slow pace to allow your body to adjust.

Your previous release worked to lubricate the place you were joined, giving him leeway to pick up speed as he smoothly slid in and out, hitting places your mind couldn’t have possibly imagined he—or anyone—could. And Trent, on the flip side, was relishing in how perfectly you enveloped him; how fucking good the acute pressure felt each time he pumped his hips and buried himself to the hilt.

Desperately you clung to him, using some of the strength left in you to keep yourself stable, while the rest went toward forcing yourself into silence. But soon, there wasn’t enough to do both, and his shoulder wasn’t enough to prevent your moans from bouncing off the walls of the small space you inhabited. And if they weren’t taken care of soon, they’d bleed through the walls, and the exact fear that almost drove you out of the room in the first place would have become a reality.

So he whispered your name—piquing your attention enough to lift your head—and pushed his lips to yours, enveloping your mouth in a deep kiss that was enough to keep your noises at bay. At least, for the time being. 

Rough palms pressed firmly into your thighs, a grip so firm that the fingers were likely to leave marks. But you didn’t seem to care, nor did you make an effort to stop it from happening. You’d be angry at it later. It wasn’t exactly a prominent worry in your mind while he sharply fucked into you, giving you as much as you could take.

And take him, you could.

His tongue slipped into your mouth and grazed your teeth as your hand snaked into his wet curls and fisted them, hard. He quickly removed his hands from your thighs and pressed them into the small of your back, arms pulling you impossibly closer as your legs tightened around his waist. The movement altered your position and shifted him inside of you, which forced him to hit your sweet spot, prying a moan from deep within your stomach.

It wasn’t often that a guy was rough with you, but he was. And whether you’d admit it or not, you liked it. 

“Right—right there,” was all you could manage.

At your word, he sped up, cock burying itself as far into you as your bodies would allow, soft grunts leaving his mouth as he exhaled. With each thrust, his name fell from your lips in soft whimpers as if it were a prayer. And then, the culmination of his hands on you, the noises he made, and the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you as it craved its release brought you to yours.

The pleasure that washed over you as you came apart around him elicited a long, breathy moan from your throat. Once again, your vision was blackened, mind lost in a repeating loop of the only palpable thought it was able to conjure up, which was how incredible he felt from this angle, fucking you through it. And even when he brought his hand to your mouth to silence you, you allowed it without forethought.

Soon after, the pressure of you contracting around his length, paired with the sound of his name ringing in the form of your voice brought him to his breaking point. He shot into you, thoroughly coating your inner walls in a layer of hot, white liquid. You moaned weakly into his palm, taking him with a strength you would’ve been sure you didn’t have left in you. You maintained it for a few moments longer until his movements finally halted. He stilled inside and gently removed his hand from your mouth, a loud gasp filling his ears as you breathed air into your lungs.

The only sound occupying the small, dark room was that of heavy breaths, the walls absorbing the noise and preventing it from reaching the outside. Finally, Trent carefully pulled out and lowered you back to the ground, and you were grateful that his hands kept a loose hold on you for the support you knew you required.

His hands roamed your sides before finally removing themselves from your body. He pulled his pants back up to his waist and promptly adjusted himself, then bent down and picked up your discarded clothes, giving them back to you as he came back up. You thanked him quietly before stepping into the thin fabric, slipping it up your legs in unison with the leather skirt before returning the blouse to your body. Meanwhile, Trent grabbed his shirt and tugged it on, the taut fabric hugging his upper half as he moved back into your field of view.

“Hey,” he finally spoke up, prompting your head to tilt up in his direction. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hummed in response, arms folded as your hands rubbed them. “This…this was a one-time thing, Trent. To get it out of our systems.”

“I know,” he nodded, “but I don’t think it’s gonna stay that way.”

“Trent, if anyone ever—”

“I know,” he cut you off, lowering his voice to a near whisper as he stepped closer. “I know. But you can’t deny that it felt good to give in.”

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip in contemplation as you considered his words, then exhaled deeply through your nose. “Yeah,” you dejectedly sighed.

His finger tilted your chin up. “Just think about it, ‘mk?”

You silently nodded and turned to the door, silently making your way over as he followed closely behind you. The air was tense. It had undoubtedly thickened since your bodies parted. You stopped in front of the door, the soft noise of his breathing distracting you. Knowing his proximity to you prevented you from opening the door just yet.

And before your head could catch up with your body, you turned around swiftly and kissed him.

“There’s not much to think about, anyway,” you muttered softly, bringing a hand to his chest and trailing it up to the back of his neck. Your fingers gently brushed the tips of his curls, thumb pressing lightly against his skin just below them. “I’ve already made my decision,” you quietly added.

“Yeah?”

To compartmentalize. Let your body decide what it wanted, regardless of the consequences.

And it wanted him.

[hyenabeanz]

Front row video from a Boston fan.

Stecklein picking up Cava. 💜

[niallsgoldhoop]

sweet spot

a niall horan short story part one of six / six thousand words-ish nsfw, 18+

“I’m going to get another drink!”

I smile at my friends before turning away from the round table we’ve been sitting at, cutting my way through the crowded bar full of people dressed in various shades of green.

St. Patrick’s Day was the day to go out.

This year, for once, it fell on a Sunday which was the only day that I was off work.

Not that I was complaining— Owning my own bakery was the one and only thing that I had ever wanted and dreamed of.

So this morning when a couple of my closest friends asked if I wanted to go out with them later that night, the only obvious answer was yes.

“What can I get for you?” Looking up at me with a wide smile, the girl behind the bar mixes a couple of drinks before pushing the one in her hand right to the girl next to me.

Biting on my bottom lip, my eyes scan over the rows of liquor bottles lined up behind her. “I’ll just take an old fashioned with an extra cherry, please!”

“You got it, babe.”

Turning her back to me and pouring my drink, I lean against the dark wooden bar top to wait. While I’ve made my rounds to different pubs and bars over the years, I’d never been to Wilson’s before. It was full of sports memorabilia and vintage Guinness signs.

As my eyes take in everything around me, I realize one more thing that this bar has that none of the others have ever had.

Him.

Jesus Christ.

Even from here I can tell his eyes are light— a contrast to the dark chestnut color of his hair that curls out from the bottom of the Boston Red Sox hat perched on top of his head.

Sitting with a small group much like my own, the moment his eyes meet mine from across the distance something shifts deep inside my belly.

Heat blooms across my cheeks as I look away, focusing my vision on the baseball game playing on the television to my left, only I definitely couldn’t tell you a single thing on it.

“See something you like?”

Whipping around at the sound of a low, Irish accent, I find myself face to face with the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.

If I thought he was captivating from across the room?

That was nothing compared to standing right next to him.

Under the brim of his hat, those eyes are so blue that it takes my breath away especially when the golden ring around his pupil catches the light when his fingers grip the brim of his hat and turn it backwards.

Fuck me.

“I—Um—“ Words evade me as he looks over the features of my face, those eyes falling to my lips for the longest few seconds of my life.

Running his hand over the dark scruff lining his jaw, it does nothing to hide the smirk that pulls at the corner of his full lips. “Cat got your tongue?”

This time I realize it’s my turn to let my eyes linger where they shouldn’t as a smug smile pulls on the corner of my own lips.

“Niall.” Holding his hand out to me, goosebumps travel up my arms at the electric touch between us. “And you?”

Just as I go to answer, the drink I ordered slides in front of me, looking so refreshing that I can’t help but pick one of the cherries out and bite it between my teeth, my tongue catching the drop of cherry flavored whiskey from my bottom lip.

“Willow.”

His thoat bobs against his swallow, that thick accent rough and low as he pushes closer to me as someone slides up to the bar behind him, repeating my name back to me as if he was imagining the taste of it on his own tongue. “Willow.”

I’ve never met someone who I’ve been able to fall into a conversation with so quickly. It feels like we stand there forever, slowly drifting closer and closer to each other. The smell of his vetiver and bergamot cologne becomes more and more intoxicating as time goes on.

“So, this is your holiday?” Taking a sip of the amber liquid from my glass, I look up at him through my lashes as the last rays of the sun filter through the old stained glass windows of the bar.

His laugh is loud and full before he leans a little closer to be heard over the noise, his tone playful with something else hidden under the surface. “I guess that depends.”

“Oh yeah?” A smirk pulls at the corner of my lips when Niall reaches out, his finger boldly tracing the thin green strap over my shoulder before following the path of my collarbone. “On what?”

A final peak of the sun hits the gold hoop in his ear just before he leans forward, his soft lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Are you going to kiss me because I’m Irish?”

“I don’t know—“ Reaching forward, my middle finger tucks into the pocket of his jeans as I look up at him, my head tilting to the side. “Are you gonna kiss me if I’m not?”

Time stands still between us as Niall glances behind him, towards the table of friends he left behind, his hand dropping to my waist where the tips of his fingers slide just barely under the top of my jeans. “Maybe not on the lips�� But I can think of some other places I’d like to get my mouth.”

“Here?” This time it’s my turn to look behind me, towards my friends. “I—“

“Well, I’m not opposed to that.” His voice sounds laden with honey. “I won’t lie, Willow— You are one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen.”

A blush crowds the apples of my cheeks as I push a lock of hair behind my ear. “I could say the same about you, Niall.”

“Will they miss you?” Blue eyes look over the top of my head as he looks towards my friends. “Because I know the guys at my table won’t miss me.”

Biting my bottom lip, I shake my head. “They’ll be fine.”

I wasn’t a stranger to a one night stand— in fact, I feel like that’s what I preferred.

Working the hours at the bakery mixed with helping my sister, it just worked out that way. Plus it never really bothered me to be single.

There was something about Niall that felt honest.

Deep in those sapphire eyes with their golden sunset, there was a feeling in my gut of trust.

Ever since I was younger I’d always had intuition that was rarely ever wrong, something that I held close to my heart, letting myself lean into those feelings.

“So what do you say, Willow?” That brilliant smile splits across his perfect features, a couple of small crinkles at the corner of his eyes. “Want to get out of here?”

“Are you asking me to make an Irish exit?” A laugh bubbles out from my lips as I look up to him.

With a shrug of his shoulders, that hand resting along the top of my hip slides along the rough material on my jeans before his fingers dip into the waistband, pulling my body flush with his as his lips brush across my jaw. “Is it still an Irish exit if you leave with someone who’s Irish?”

“Mm, maybe not.” My words come on an exaggerated breath— one not meant for the public to hear. “Let me just send my location to my friends and tell them I’m leaving.”

Niall nips my earlobe. “I can't stop thinking about what I’ll do when I’m alone with you.”

Pulling some cash out of my wallet and pushing it across the bar, I listen to the fire blazing through my blood as I thread my fingers through his, looking up at him with a smile.

“I can't wait to find out.”

_________

I’ve never wanted someone so bad.

The entire ride in the back of the taxi to Niall’s house was like the ultimate tease of his attention.

From the words he whispered against my skin to the way his hands rested heavy on my thigh, his pinky just teasing along the seam of my jeans.

His lips hadn’t even met mine and I already knew just how impactful it would be when they do.

God, how fucking god they’ll feel.

On my lips.

On my skin.

When his hand finds mine as he says goodbye to our driver, butterflies flood my belly as he guides me in front of him to the front door of a quaint bungalow style house complete with a blooming garden.

“Fucking finally.” My body presses into his front door as he reaches into his pocket, the sound of metal keys cutting through the crisp air. “When I saw you— Standing at that bar— All I could think about was getting you here, with me.”

One hand wraps around my waist as the other pushes the key into the lock, turning it and pushing open the heavy door. As much as I’d like to look at everything inside, that idea falls flat when Niall grips me by the hips, spinning us around and pushing my back into the door as it slams shut.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? With where this is going?” Cupping my jaw, his thumb presses under my chin to bring my gaze to his. “If we’re going to do this— Together— I want you to be vocal, okay? I want to hear you answer me and tell me what you want, what you need. Can you do that for me, Willow?”

I swallow the nerves building up, nodding my head, my tongue rolls over my body lip. “Yes— Yes, I can do that. Please, Niall—“

“Come here.”

When the space between us closes, his lips on mine, I swear to god it feels like the earth starts to spin in reverse.

Soft and supple, Niall moves his lips along with mine as if he’d been doing just that for years. I can't even contain the whimper that falls from my own lips when his tongue teases across my top lip as his hands slide under the thin top that I pulled on this morning.

Just feeling his skin against mine sends a wave of goosebumps across my body, making me arch my back to push myself even closer to his warm body, feeling the heat emanating from him.

“Fuck.” His teeth pull on my bottom lip, just enough pressure to send a jolt through my nervous system. “I could stand here and kiss you all night, Jesus Christ.”

“Mhm.” Is my only reply as my lips travel from his and across the scruff lining his jaw, down to the spot under his golden earring, pulling the skin between my teeth and soothing it with my tongue. “But then I wouldn’t get to see this.” Dropping one of my hands, I cup him through his jeans and listen to the low groan from deep in his throat. “Wouldn’t that be a shame?”

“Yeah? You want to see my cock nice and hard for you— Is that it?” Niall pulls back just enough to meet my gaze as his hands fall from under my shirt. “I’m going to ask you some questions, okay?”

“Okay.” Breathless, I feel the electricity as it buzzes underneath my skin.

“Is anything off limits for you?” Working the button of my jeans, he keeps those blue eyes on mine.

Shaking my head, I feel my heart rate skipping a beat. “No.”

“Good.” A smile plays at the corner of his lips as the unmistakable sound of his fingers pulling down the zipper fills the space around us. “Do you need a safe word just in case?”

“N—No.” I shake my head again. “I don’t.”

A small nod is the only response I get before Niall drops down in front of me, looking up at me from his knees, his fingers curling around the edge of my pants before pulling them down to reveal the skimpy lacy covering my center.

“Jesus Christ.” Strong hands drag up my thighs as his eyes go wide. “This incredible body is just for me tonight, is that right?”

Through dark lashes framing his eyes, the blue fades out as the darkness of his pupils expand. “For tonight, yeah.”

“Are you going to leave that pretty green top on? Or take it off?” The very top of his finger traces the edge of the black lace, making my thighs inadvertently rub together. “Don’t worry— I’ll take care of you.”

Gripping the edges of my shirt and pulling it off, I drop it next to where my shoes and my jeans sit in a small pile, my hand reaching out to run through Niall’s dark hair.

When the soft light from the lamp across the living room catches the silver barbells through my nipples, his eyes close as he tilts his face up to the ceiling, almost like he’s in need of his own savior.

“Willow.” My name falls off his lips on a groan, one from deep inside his chest. “God.”

With my back still against the front door, a small gasp leaves me when Niall’s lips press against my skin, small kisses dancing across my thighs and the soft nips from his teeth adding to the sensation.

“Look at you— Soaking wet.” Dragging his finger over the center of the damp fabric, I tilt my head back when he presses his fingertips to my clit. “I bet you taste sweet, so fucking sweet.”

“Maybe if you quit talking you’ll find out.” I answer.

Niall scoffs, looking up at me. “So the pretty girl from the bar has a bratty side, does she?”

Hooking his finger into the lace and pulling it to the side, I can’t help the way my lips pop open as his tongue moves through my center, the tip of his tongue swirling around my throbbing clit before pulling away.

“Niall—“

“You know, I like brats.” Pressing a soft kiss to my thigh, his nails drag down the back of my thighs before peeling the scrap of material from my body. “So by all means— Keep going.”

Before I can formulate a response, he buries his face between my legs and when he suctions his lips around my clit, it feels like all I can do is not to unravel right then and there. Burying my hands in his hair, I moan out as he goes back and forth between tracing mindless patterns across the sensitive nerve and flicking his tongue in a rhythm that doesn’t even seem humanly possible.

“So fucking sweet.” Resting his head on my lower stomach, I take a second to catch my breath before feeling his finger as he drags it through the wetness he’s created. “I bet this cunt is so tight, so warm.”

Pressing one finger inside, he only draws it back to add a second one before hooking them both forward and finding the spot that only those few and far between have been able to find.

“Niall, oh god—“ Letting go of his soft brunette waves, I let my fingers slide up my belly until they find the silver piercings on my chest, messing with them to add another level to the pleasure he’s giving me. “That feels so good, so damn good.”

“Let me.” Moving my hands out of the way, he grips my heavy breast in his hand before flicking the metal and making me cry out. “Put your hands up— Over your head.”

I do as I’m told just as he finds his home between my legs again, the sounds coming from the back of his throat making me whimper louder than I even knew was possible. Especially when he lifts my leg over his shoulder, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers as he eats me with fervor— as if he hasn’t had a drop of water in a desert for years.

“Are you going to come for me like this? Against my front door?” Nipping the sensitive nerve, I feel my walls flutter against his fingers. “How many times has someone made you come before, Willow?”

My eyes flutter closed as he sucks and licks me like never before, his fingers pressing harder inside of me. “Thr—Fuck, three.”

“Challenge accepted.”

Those words are the last ones I hear before he brings me to a pleasure I’ve never known.

“Fuck!” Letting my mouth fall open, I cry out as my orgasm crashes through my body. “Niall.“

He stands up to tower over me, cupping my jaw and letting his fingers dig into my cheeks, a silent question.

When I nod and open my mouth, he lets his saliva mixed with my release gather on his tongue before letting it fall into my waiting mouth.

“Perfect— You are literally perfect.” Crashing his lips to mine, when his hands slide down my thighs, I let him wrap them around his waist before he turns us away from the door. “I’m going to have so much fun making a mess out of you— wrecking you.”

His lips move against mine in a slower kiss than before, taking his time.

I pull back from him just enough to see the dark walls of his bedroom, the bed looking like a cloud from the fluffy sheets and the half made duvet spread across the top.

Niall sits in the edge of the bed, his hands moving across my ass at the same time he drops his lips to my neck, leaving wet kisses down until he takes one of my nipples into his mouth.

“Oh, yes.” Barely a whisper, the sensation of his warm mouth along with his tongue flicking across the metal makes me arch my back. “More.”

Releasing one and doing the same with the other, he pulls away too soon. “Get on your knees first.”

“And if I say no?” I gripping the hair at the base of his neck, I pull until he has to tilt his head back to look up at me. “If I want to be a brat?”

A low laugh falls from his lips as he stands to his full height, turning so that he can drop me down onto the bed, reaching out and grabbing a fist full of my hair just hard enough that I feel the sting in my scalp.

From my scalp all the way to the spot between my legs.

“You want to be difficult? That’s fine.” Working the button of his pants, I bite my bottom lip in anticipation. “You can be difficult with my cock down your throat, yeah?”

When he releases my hair, his hands make quick work of his pants and briefs, shoving them to the floor and kicking them off to be forgotten until later before grabbing his shirt and adding that to the pile.

Just the sight before me makes me whimper.

A perfect amount of dark hair dusts across his chest and even matches the trimmed hair that leads to the most perfect cock that I’ve ever seen.

“Go on, put your mouth on me.” Gripping himself in his left hand, Niall presses the tip of his cock to my bottom lip, using it to pull it down to release it with with a pop. “Let me see how well I fit.”

Opening my mouth, I flick my tongue along the underside of his length, looking up at him through my lashes before closing my lips around him and drawing him in.

“Holy shit.” Dropping his hand, he threads it through my hair instead. “Just like that, baby.”

The small amount of praise makes me take him deeper, letting my tongue run along the thick vein that decorates him. His hand in my hair tightens as he hits the back of my throat, a moan breaking through his lips.

“Open your throat for me, I know you can take more than that.” Niall demands.

Doing just that, I let my jaw relax and when he pushes even further, the intrusion makes my throat restrict— gagging around him and feeling tears rush to the corners of my eyes.

“Again—“

Pushing forward, this time I let him rest at the back of my throat for a couple more seconds before pulling back, using my fist to work him over as I catch my breath.

I don’t waste time before taking him back in my mouth, keeping my eyes on his as I taste the saltiness of him, wishing more than anything he would give me everything— to let me swallow everything he could give me.

“I can’t—“ Shaking his head, Niall pulls back. “You’re mouth feels too good, Will—“

The shortened version of my name makes butterflies erupt in my stomach, ones that I immediately have to tamper down at the reminder that this is what it is.

One night.

A nickname means nothing.

“You’re ruining my fun.” I say with a pout, looking up at him.

“I am?” He grins as he looks down at me, his tongue rolling across the inside of his cheek as I nod. “Fuck, then around and keep your hands where I can see them.”

Eager to please, I maneuver around the mattress until I face away from him, letting my palms run across the soft sheets until they extend in front of me while Niall drops his hands to my ass.

“Willow, were you being honest when you said nothing was off the table for you?” Smooth palms work small circles across my skin.

Turning to look over my shoulder, I catch Niall’s gaze looking at where he wants to be buried, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “I was being honest— Do your worst, Niall.”

Before I can finish my last breath, he raises his palm and brings it down across my skin making me cry out at the sting of pain.

“How’s that feel?” He asks, bending to press a kiss to the area. “ Feel good?”

“Yes, yes—“

Another sting across the opposite side, this one harder than the other as he squeezes my flesh in his hand. “Good, good girl.”

After a few more stinging strikes, I can feel my arousal as it drips between my thighs, the need for him so strong that I don’t know how to even possibly control it.

“Niall, I need more— Please, give me more.” I beg.

“Tell me now… Do you want me to get a condom?” Voice thick, his lips press to the middle of my bare back as he bends over me, letting his hands run over my breasts and toy with my nipples. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“No, no.” Shaking my head, I breathe out. “I get tested and I’m clean.”

“I am too.” Warm breath skates across my back. “I can show you the results.”

Rolling my lips together, I whimper. “Don’t make me wait— I need to feel you inside of me.”

Niall presses one last kiss to the center of my back before I feel the blunt head of his cock as he runs it through my center, coating himself in me.

If I thought he was going to say something— I was wrong.

Instead, he grips my hips in his hands and buries himself so deep inside of me that my cries seem to ricochet off the walls from feeling him filling me.

“So fucking perfect.” He says, pulling out to the very tip before slamming back into me and pulling my ass up to meet his thrusts. “My cock fits so well inside you. Can you feel how greedy this little cunt is, huh?”

“Oh— Oh my god—“ A moan slips from my lips as he punishes me for things I haven't even done, his grip no doubt leaving bruises of his fingertips behind. “Fuck, Niall. You’re so fucking deep.”

From behind me, I can hear the sound of his hips meeting my ass, each one more punishing and relentless than the last. Niall lets his hands slide from my hips to my ass, moving just right so that when I hear the spit leave his lips and land perfectly on his cock, I feel myself racing towards another climax.

“I can feel you squeezing me, are you going to give me another one of your pretty moans? Coat my cock?” Bringing his palm down against my skin, my knuckles turn white as I grip the sheets. “Who would have known you were this fucking filthy.”

“Right there, please don’t stop!” The cry from my lips leaves my mouth open as I choke around the moan that follows it. “I’m going to come again. Oh fuck, right there. Please.”

Niall buries himself with such power that my release lets go, barreling towards the finish line as my teeth bite down on the comforter as I push my face into the bed. “God, Willow— You’re squeezing my cock so fucking good, holy fuck.”

He pulls out of me only to pull me to the edge of the bed and roll me over, sinking himself back inside of me, making my back arch off the bed while my hands reach for anything to hold onto.

“I could spend days buried inside of you and not get enough.” Meeting my gaze, Niall slows his thrust as he rolls his hips, grinding the base of his cock against my clit. “A night isn’t enough. Play with those pretty piercings for me, Will, please.”

Using both of my hands, I pinch and play with the sensitive peaks, giving the attention that I love and loving the way his eyes feel as they travel from my eyes all the way down my body to watch where he sinks inside of me.

“Harder, I need it harder—“ I say, biting my bottom lip.

Niall leans over the bed, his hand wrapping around the base of my throat, squeezing just enough to restrict my airway. “You want to be fucked like a slut? Is that what I’m hearing?”

Only able to nod, my voice catches in my throat as he picks up his pace and thrust into me so hard that my back slides up the sheets of the bed. “Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah?” Sweat drips down the side of his neck as he hovers over me, those blue eyes flaring with unbridled lust. “How’s that?”

“So good.” I moan, my nails scratching down his chest and over the muscles of his stomach. “I feel, god. Your cock feels so good.”

“I’ve never been buried inside someone that feels like this.” He moans, tilting his head up to the ceiling. “Strangling my fucking cock. and trying to kill my for everything I have.”

Dragging his hands away from my neck, his hand splays wide across my chest as he pushes me into the mattress. “Come on baby, I can feel you ready to soak me again— Give it to me, let me have it.”

“No. I want—“

Niall groans as he brings his thumb to my mouth, pushing it in deep enough that I gag before he drops it to my clit, working circles around the nerve as I cry out his name so loud that if he had neighbors close enough they’d never have to wonder what his name is.

“Stop being difficult, fuck.” Thrusting into me, he drops his head to mine and pulls my bottom lip between his teeth. “Come around me, now.”

Giving over the control of my body, Niall fucks me as I release around him again, coating his cock and soaking the sheets as he drops his head to my neck, sucking the skin between his teeth.

“There you go, look how perfect you are when you listen.” Low and rough, his voice is like gravel. “Such a fucking good girl for me, Willow.”

I nod, feeling empty as he pulls out of me and grips my knees, pushing them apart to look down at my weeping cunt, the mess he created.

“Fuck.”

Dropping down, he wastes no time before taking my clit into his mouth, the suction so hard that it sends me spiraling into another orgasm and coating his tongue with my release, making me squirm on the sheets.

“Niall, I— I can’t, my god—“

“Get up, let me see you dripping for me.” Niall runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “I’m not done with you.”

“I—“

“Now.” His palm cracks across the side of my breast, making my breath ragged as he fists his cock, taking a step back from the bed and reaching for my ankle to drag me to the edge. “Stand up and bend over. Take my cock like the good girl you are.”

I scramble to stand up, my legs already feeling weak as he grips my hips and turns us to face the dresser along his wall, the oversized mirror hanging above it.

“You’re going to watch me fuck you in this mirror— Watch as I fill this cunt to the brink with me, do you understand me?” Wrapping my hair around his fist once, twice— he tugs on it when I don’t answer. “Fucking answer me, you slut.”

Nodding, I rest my elbows along the top of the dresser. “Give it to me, please.”

“There’s that nice girl I met at the bar.” He smiles at me. “You are so perfect, so beautiful.”

Slower than anything else we’ve done tonight, Niall pushes inside of me; it feels like every single ridge and vein touches the right spot inside of me, filling me up so full that it brings tears to my eyes.

“You gonna cry over this cock?” Pushing harder, Niall places his hands on the outside of my arms flat on top of the dresser, the heat between our bodies an inferno as his sweat slicked skin moves across mine. “Cry over how fucking good we fit— Cry over how well you’re taking me— Taking me so deep?”

Shaking my head, I find his eyes in the mirror. “I can’t—“

“You can.” Niall presses forward, my legs shaking as he reaches around to bring his fingers to my clit and working the sensitive nerve into tight circles. “You can take it, and you fucking will.”

“Niall—“

“You’re going to come all over me again and then l’m going to fill this perfect pussy so full that you’ll be dripping down your thighs for me.” For the first time, his voice falters as I feel his thrusts foster for just a second. “Then maybe I’ll be done with you.”

Pushing up onto the tips of my toes, the new angle causes me to cry out, my hands sliding along the wood and pushing a stack of shirts to the floor at the same time that Niall’s scream blends with mine as he empties himself so deep inside of me that it feels like I can’t breath.

Fucking me through both of our orgasms, I feel the tears as they stream down my cheeks at the same time I gasp for air to fill my lungs.

“Fuck, Willow— Fuck—“ Niall grips my hips as he slowly pulls out of me, his eyes trained between my legs. “Look at that.”

Dropping to his knees, I let my head fall onto my arm. “God.”

“I made such a mess of you.” Using his thumbs, he pulls me apart to watch as his release runs down the inside of my thighs. “I’ve never seen someone look so good coated in me, dripping my come.”

“Niall.” The words from my lips are hoarse as he stands up, wrapping his arms around me and pulling my spent body into his. “I’m so— so tired.”

“You did so good, baby.” Pressing a kiss to my temple, I let myself sink into his arms knowing that it’s a chance I won’t get again. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

Carrying me to the bathroom, I don’t protest when he starts a bath and helps me climb inside, the warm water soothing me into a post sex state that I have never experienced before.

As he runs his hands over my body with a lavender body wash, I let my head rest against his chest from where he sits behind me, listening to him as he keeps telling me how good I was.

How good I am.

“You know, you could stay here.” Pressing a kiss to my shoulder, I close my eyes at his words. “Spend the night.”

Shaking my head, I turn to look at him. “This was a one night thing, we know that.”

“Exactly.” Pressing a lingering kiss to my lips, he runs the tip of his nose down the length of mine. “You staying the night is still just one night.”

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I find myself nodding.

Which is exactly how I find myself curled into his side after a change of the sheets, an oversized Harley Davidson shirt pushed up over my stomach as Niall’s warm palm keeps me pulled into him as his warm and steady breath tickles the hair at the back of my neck.

I let myself relish in his warmth for thirty more minutes before I slip out from the sheets, taking one last look at him before making it to the living room and pulling on my jeans before calling a taxi.

Slipping away from the best sex I ever had and leaving without a note is hard, but it has to be done.

Niall and I were meant for one night and nothing more.

However, when I climb into my own bed still wrapped in that white shirt, I find myself wishing for the first time in a king that there was a potential for more.

That we would be more.

That Niall would want to be more.

With me.

—————

AHHHHH!!!!!

i’m so excited about this story and putting it out here for everyone to read!!! the second part is coming soon and i hope you like this!

-a🍀