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shockercoco · 14 hours ago

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Better Late Than Never

Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings - fluff, some kissing, Valentine’s Day shenanigans, flirty!Bucky

Word count - 2167

a/n - Happy Valentine’s Day everyone, especially to all my fellow single readers! I’ve somehow ended up in my Sebastian Stan era again, so I thought why fight it. It’s been a while since I’ve written an imagine, and I’m feeling a little rusty, but I hope you all enjoy and thanks in advance for reading :)

“What’s got you smiling so much?” You ask Wanda as she sits down across from you.

It was Wanda’s idea to meet up for lunch after finding out about the rough morning you had, and she had also told you that she had some good news to share that might cheer you up.

You had woken up late for work, couldn’t find your car keys, and when you reached the halfway point on your journey to work, you realized you didn’t have your phone. Today just wasn’t your day.

“Remember how I said I had some good news?” Wanda asks, her smile huge as she leans in and rests her elbows on the table. When you nod, she continues. “Well, Vision surprised me at work and finally asked me to be his girlfriend! He brought me flowers and everything.”

Yeah, today just really wasn’t your day.

“That’s really great, Wanda, but how exactly is that supposed to cheer me up?” you question, giving her a small smile to soften your words.

“Because you were the one who suggested that I should confess my feelings to him, and you’ve pretty much been with me every step of the way,” Wanda tells you. Her expression then turns into confusion. “Is something wrong?”

You honestly were really proud and happy for Wanda, and if this were any other time of the year, your reaction would’ve been different. But it’s not. Valentine's Day is at the end of the week and you just want the week to be over with.

While you were walking down the street on your way to the restaurant, you walked past a woman getting proposed to in the park. While you were waiting for the light to change in order for you to cross the street, you saw a couple making out. As you walked past a street vendor selling flowers, you overheard the vendor making conversation with a man who was apparently looking for the right flowers to buy his crush. Now, Wanda hits you with this.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” you quickly shake your head. “I’ve just had a weird day.”

She looks at you for a moment longer, not fully believing you. “Hmm, there’s something else. Tell me.”

You let out a laugh. “Wanda, I’m fine. It just…it’s nothing really. I’m good.”

“It’s just what?” Wanda asks. When you hesitate again, she adds, “We’re not ordering until you tell me what’s up,” she smirks at you.

A small groan leaves you, before you speak up, “It’s just that Bucky hasn’t asked me to be his valentine yet, and this is our first Valentine’s Day as a couple. It stupid, I know. I shouldn’t even be upset.”

“No, it’s not stupid. Have you mentioned how you feel to him?”

“No, I didn’t think I had to since he’s always surprising me with gifts any other time of the year. I just figured this would just happen naturally, but nothing yet.”

“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. After all, it’s still the beginning of the week. Who knows, he could just be waiting for the actual day to come,” Wanda says, and when you don’t say anything, she places a hand on top of yours and continues, “I’d honestly be surprised if Bucky does absolutely nothing for you. Everyone knows how obsessed he is with you.”

That makes you smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am, and when Valentine’s Day comes and he still hasn’t asked you to be his valentine, call me, I’ll hunt him down,” Wanda tells you right as a waitress walks up to the table to take your guys’ order. She catches the end of Wanda’s sentence and has a confused, yet amused look on her face. “Sorry, just relationship problems.”

The waitress laughs as she says, “Don’t worry I understand.”

Later that night when you're at Bucky’s place for a movie night the two of you had planned the week before, you can feel Bucky looking at you repeatedly while your eyes are still on the screen. You’re cuddled up into his side with his arm wrapped around you, but you still notice the constant shifting of his head.

You finally give in and look up at him. “Is there something on my face?” you ask him, your tone teasing.

Bucky’s confused with your question. “No, why?”

“Because you keep looking at me.”

“What, I can’t admire my own girlfriend anymore?”

“It feels more like staring than anything,” you tell him, and Bucky just laughs.

“Well, then I’m sorry,” Bucky apologizes as he places a hand on your cheek to lift your head up. He leans down to place a gentle kiss on your lips, a smile still tugging on the corner of his lips. When he pulls away, he still keeps the distance between the two of you small as he looks into your eyes.

“Seriously, what is it?” you whine as you playfully shove him away from you, causing him to laugh. He knows how much you hate it when he does that. “Is there something bugging you?” you casually slide in the question, slightly hoping that he would use this time to ask you to be his valentine.

“No, there isn’t,” he laughs and pulls away, turning his attention back to the screen, but keeping his arm still wrapped around you. “I’m done, I promise.”

He misses the slight drop in your expression, but you quickly fix your face before looking back at the tv as well.

As the week goes on, you try to focus on more important things, but as Friday continues to get closer, your hope continues to diminish. You and Bucky continue to text normally throughout the week, but when Thursday afternoon comes Bucky calls you to let you know that he’ll be going on a mission the next day. On Valentine’s Day.

“I’m sorry it’s such short notice, doll, but Steve needs me,” you hear Bucky softly tell you through the phone. You’re sitting on a chair in front of your window watching people pass by with Bucky on speaker.

“Oh, no it’s okay, I understand,” you say, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. “How long will you be gone?”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end, before Bucky speaks, “A couple of weeks.”

Weeks?

Your heart drops at his answer and you feel your throat start to tighten. You quickly mute yourself to clear the tears from your throat, before unmuting.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” he asks, noticing your delayed response.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? There’s people out there that need you,” you speak up.

You catch sight of your neighbor’s boyfriend walking up to her house with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You momentarily forget you’re on the phone and unintentionally let out a frustrated sigh at the sight, catching Bucky’s attention.

“Listen, I can probably get out of it. I’m sure Steve doesn’t need me that bad, there’s a whole team of people that are available to help out.”

A sad laugh leaves you. “Bucky it’s fine, I promise. He’s your best friend and he specifically asked you because he wants you, so go.”

“If you insist,” you hear Bucky sigh “I know you’re upset, though, so I promise to make it up to you when I get back, okay?”

That makes you crack a smile. “Okay.”

When the next day rolls around, you take your time getting out of bed. Unfortunately, you had the day off today, which of course you would’ve been happy about under different circumstances.

You decide to keep yourself busy and do some chores to pass time, but by the time you’re done cleaning every crevice and doing laundry, it’s only four in the afternoon.

At some point, Wanda calls to check up on you and asks if you wanted her and Vision to come over and have dinner with you. Vision was planning on cooking for just the two of them, but he told you he had no problem making more. Although the two of them both repeatedly insisted they didn’t mind making the drive to your place, you declined.

It felt wrong to intrude on a special night like tonight.

After telling Wanda and Vision that you would just order in, the two of you finally end the call.

You weren’t currently that hungry so you decided to just order something later. You make yourself comfortable on the couch and decide to put on a tv show you’ve been wanting to watch.

A couple episodes later, you finally start to get hungry, and right when you’re about to place an order, your doorbell rings. You shake your head thinking it was just Vision and Wanda coming to share their food, but as you look through the peephole to see Bucky standing outside holding a bouquet of flowers and a stuffed animal you had been wanting, your heart drops along with your jaw.

You look down at your outfit and contemplate quickly changing, but decide against it.

“Wh-what are you doing here? I thought you had to go on a mission?” you ask when you open the door.

“Surprise!” Bucky greets you with a bright smile. He leans in to give you a kiss, before whispering, “Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart.”

Bucky can see that you’re still shocked and at a loss for words, so he just laughs as he pushes past you and makes his way inside. You close the door behind him and watch as he makes his way into the kitchen and lays the flowers on the counter along with the stuffed animal.

“As much as I’m happy that you’re here, why are you here?” your eyebrows are furrowed as you lean against the counter, your arms folded across your chest.

Bucky sends you a smirk as he quickly puts the flowers in water before making his way over to you. He places his hands on your waist as closes the distance between you two.

“You didn’t really think that I’d miss our first Valentine’s Day together, did you?”

“I didn’t even think you remembered, I mean you haven’t said anything about it all week,” you tell him.

“Yeah, Wanda told me you were a little upset,” Bucky mentions and your eyes widen.

“What a traitor, she wasn’t supposed to say anything,” you say slightly embarrassed as you look off to the side. Then a thought hits you, and you look back at him. “Wait, did you just come here because of what Wanda told you?”

“No, I was already planning on coming here tonight.”

“But what about your mission?” you ask, still confused.

Bucky smiles. “There never was a mission, doll. I made it up because I wanted to surprise you. You really thought I would spend today with Steve instead of you?”

“...Well, he is your best friend.”

“That’s true,” Bucky nods, grabbing your hands in his and placing kisses on your knuckles, “but, you’re my best girl,” he whispers as he looks into your eyes, causing butterflies in your stomach and your face to heat up.

What were you upset about again?

A chuckle leaves Bucky as he watches you shyly smile as you look away.

“You could’ve at least said something this whole week,” you tell him.

“I know, I know,” he admits, “but I was trying to get everything together.”

“Get what together?” you ask.

Bucky stays silent for a moment as if trying to find the right words to say. Then he says, “I want you to move in with me.”

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches as you stare back at him. “What?”

Maybe you inhaled too many chemicals while cleaning.

“I want you to move in with me,” Bucky repeats. “I know we’ve been dating for less than a year and I completely understand if this is too fast for you, but there’s plenty of room for you at my place and I would be much happier if I was able to have you next to me when I wake up every morning.”

Oh.

You blink.

“You’re serious?” you ask, even though there's no indication on his face to tell you he’s lying.

Bucky lets go of your hands to place his on either side of your face. “Completely. Like I said, you’re my best girl.” He watches a smile slowly form on your lips. “So, what do you say?”

“Yes,” you say, and Bucky’s grin grows wider, but you hold your hand up. “Don’t start smiling yet, I wasn’t finished.”

Bucky quickly fixes his face and tries to suppress his excitement. “Of course, continue.”

“I say yes, only if you agree to never pull anything like this ever again.”

“Ever?” Bucky repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Bucky!” you playfully hit his chest.

“I’m just kidding,” he laughs, leaning in to kiss you. Then he pulls away just enough to murmur against your lips, “I’ll just wait until you forget.”

Like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x black!reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan x you #fluff #valentines day #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction

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sarcasticallyexplicit11 · 2 days ago

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id KILL for a lil bit of pony n darry angst (always🙂‍↕️) where they get into a fight n pony brings up some absolutely foul, targeted shit n instead of yelling back darry just genuinely breaks down. cannot handle it. (absolutely ADORE ur writing love🫶🥹 keep up the good work like ALWAYS can't WAIT to see what u cook up!!💕🧡🫶)

Darry angst and Ponyboy being a little shit? Count me in! I’m glad you like what I do and I hope you enjoy this too! I’ve written something similar in the past but this one’s a little heavier (oops) Post Windrixville but Johnny and Dally are alive because I said so 🙂‍↕️

Darry wasn’t sure what crawled up his littlest brother’s ass and died but he needed it out as soon as possible.

He had seemed to be in a mood ever since he had gotten home from track practice that afternoon, huffing and puffing all over the place. Darry couldn’t get more than a sarcastic quip or silence out of him when he would ask Pony about his day or how practice went. His attitude made it almost impossible for Darry to be around him, not trying to pick a fight.

The rest of the gang slowly trickled into the house throughout the evening. Soda, Steve, and Dally sat on the floor playing a heated game of poker, Pony and Johnny curled up on the couch together, and Two-Bit sat on the kitchen counter while Darry got started on dinner.

Walking towards the fridge, Darry’s foot collided with what felt like a sack of bricks. He looked down and saw Ponyboy’s bookbag lying on its side by the table. Two-Bit let out a small chuckle before a sharp glance from Darry had him snapping his mouth shut. Darry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to keep his frustration at bay. He knew that Pony had been struggling ever since Windrixville. He knew that Pony was a teenager. He knew all that but Pony’s foul moods and constant disregard for his responsibilities were starting to wear on Darry’s last nerve.

“Pony,” Darry yelled, “come get your bag!” He heard a huff from the living room and stomping footsteps making their way towards the kitchen. Darry took another deep breath in a feeble attempt to calm himself.

Ponyboy rounded the corner and grabbed his bag with a loud groan. “I don’t ask ya to do much around here little colt, so leave the attitude out of your chores next time.” Ponyboy shot Darry an irritated glare, slinging the bag over his shoulder. He muttered something under his breath, just loud enough for Darry to hear but not loud enough for him to understand. “Pump your breaks, what did ya just say to me?”

Two-Bit, sensing the heightened tenseness that filled the room, hopped off the counter and made his way into the living room to join the other guys in their game. Though nobody was playing anymore, too focused on what was going down between the two brothers.

Pony whipped his head around to face Darry who was stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the counter. “I said you’re always nagging me to do shit though.”

Breathe, Darry thought to himself, he’s pushing your buttons on purpose.

Ponyboy had gotten a little taller over the course of a couple of months, now able to look Darry in the eye, which he abused for his own benefit. Darry usually didn’t mind, but right now he wasn’t using puppy dog eyes. There was a certain deep-seated fury sitting in them that Darry had never seen before, something that had him backing away from his little brother.

“Well I wouldn’t have to nag if you just did what I asked you,” Darry said. His heart was pounding in his chest, an anxiety that had been ever-present since his parents died. Ponyboy stepped towards Darry, fist clenched at his sides and Darry could feel his breathing speed up.

He wasn’t scared of Ponyboy, but his body hadn’t gotten that memo.

Darry could hear the distinct sound of crutches heading towards the kitchen, with four sets of footsteps following behind. Pony took another step towards Darry and said, “and I’d do what you told me if you weren’t such an asshole all the time.”

“I’m an asshole because I care, you’d see that if you got your head outta the clouds.” Darry could see the gang standing in the doorway out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t bring himself to care that they were witnessing this.

Ponyboy snickered, a hint of defiance deep within it. “Funny, 'cause you never act like you care about anyone but yourself.” Darry flinched backward, back slamming against the counter as he did so. “I don’t even think you cared when two of our best friends almost died.”

After the words left his mouth, Ponyboy knew he had fucked up and everyone else did too. The whole house went still, as if any movement would cause the whole thing to collapse. He expected Darry to get angry. He almost wished Darry would just be furious and ground him for eternity.

Nobody was prepared for Darry to break down into tears.

He crumpled to the floor, any strength he had completely zapped from his muscles. Everyone was frozen, like the lakes on the, very rare, coldest days in Tulsa. Ponyboy tried to say anything to fix what he had just broken but the words just wouldn’t come out.

“Darry I-,” Ponyboy started, but Soda’s hand on his shoulder had him snapping his mouth shut.

Nobody moved for what felt like an eternity, until Johnny moved further into the kitchen, lowering himself carefully to the ground to sit next to Darry. That was the catalyst. Dally then pushed the other guys out of the way to sit on the other side of Darry, keeping a little distance between them.

Darry finally lifted his head, tears still flowing down his cheeks. “You don’t know the first thing about how much I cared, Pone. Who do you think is paying off their hospital bills?” Ponyboy shrunk backward and shook his head. “If I didn’t care, neither of them would be staying in the house right now. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be killing myself working over 60 hours a week to make sure there’s enough food on the table for everybody. You don’t know how much I care because I keep it quiet.”

Ponyboy squished himself onto the floor next to Johnny and crossed his arms on top of his knees, laying his head on them. “I’m sorry.”

Johnny looked over at Darry and chewed on his lip, thinking about what to say. He was eternally grateful that Darry let him stay, sleeping on the Curtis couch is far better than toughing it out in the lot. He also felt a little guilty about taking up space, but Darry would always shut that down. “You said something when you thought I was asleep when I was in the hospital. I heard you say that you’ll always take care of your little brothers, and that meant the whole gang. You don’t say it, but you’ll sure as hell show you care,” Johnny says, picking at the hem of his shirt.

Darry took a deep breath as fresh tears poured down his face faster than he could wipe them away. Dally nodded in agreement with Johnny, a small smile gracing his lips before he could catch it. “Yeah man, Buck woulda kicked me out by now with all my complainin’ yet you still keep me around. That’s how I know you care.”

The rest of the gang slowly made their way to the floor, packing together like sardines. Darry could see the guilty look on Ponyboy’s face so he waved him over to sit in front of him. Pony scooched over to Darry, settling himself in his big brother’s lap and burying himself in his shoulder. Darry smiled and wrapped his arms around Pony.

“Kid I care more than you’ll ever know, even when you think I don’t,” Darry says, squeezing Ponyboy against him. “And you and I are gonna talk about that attitude you’ve had.”

Pony nodded against Darry’s chest, then lifted his head up and said, “I’m really sorry Dar.”

Darry squeezed him once again, a silent acknowledgment of his apology. “Now, who’s ready to eat?”

#the outsiders #the outsiders musical #darry curtis #ponyboy curtis #johnny cade #dallas winston #darry curtis angst #i made myself sad #I hope I did your idea justice #sunshine speaks #sunshine writes

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goldenlionprince · 3 days ago

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It's been a long time coming

Here it is, the long teased smut for @sorenphelps The Bodyguard AU (with some art right here). It's the first sex scene I have written in a long time, so please be nice to me 🙈 (aka don't tell me if you hate it)

@neverenoughmarauders @lovelymasks

It's another sleepless night for James, only this time he's buzzing with energy that zaps through his veins. Maybe the fifth coffee of the day was a bad idea but at the time it sounded like the right thing to do when he had to finish that project for the client on time.

What Sirius' excuse is to still be awake at this hour James has no idea though.

“Go on a run with me,” James says as he steps into the living room. It's not really a question.

Sirius looks at him like he lost his marbles somewhere throughout the day. “It's 2 a.m.”

“Sounds like it should be perfectly safe for me to be out there,” James says with a grin and turns back to his own room to get dressed. “All the bad guys sleeping and all that. So if my strong, buff bodyguard would prefer to lounge around at home while I'm gone...”

“Don't be a prat,” Sirius calls after him.

It only takes them five minutes to be out on the street.

The city at night is something else entirely. It's not really quiet, not totally asleep, but still it has something hushed, like the city is holding its breath for a little bit to let everyone get some rest.

Running in this atmosphere feels strange and freeing.

They find an easy rhythm, running alongside one another like they never did anything else, and finally the buzzing in James' veins subsides, the energy finding an outlet. His knee twinges a little but James ignores it. It's not bad, he'll be fine.

They make it to the park before the first raindrops fall.

It's not just a drizzle, it's big splashes and James and Sirius are already wet when they stop under one of the trees. James laughs and rakes a hand through his wet curls. Just then the rain really starts and it looks like it won't stop for a while.

“Looks like I had a great idea,” James says with a grin.

Sirius chuckles and looks out at the curtain of rain. “Looks like we won't need a shower.”

James steps closer to him. There is energy buzzing under his skin again when Sirius looks at him. James leans in and kisses him, because he wants to, because he can, and then steps backwards out into the rain. “Race me home?”he asks and doesn't wait for an answer, just sets off in a sprint.

He can hear Sirius come after him, splashing through the quickly filling puddles. The thrill of the chase sizzles through James like a lightning bolt, propelling him forward even faster.

His hair gets plastered to his head in no time and the white t-shirt he's wearing clings to his body, almost see-through. James doesn't care. His lungs burn with the run and he feels free.

He risks a glance back over his shoulder and sees Sirius gaining on him quickly through the absolute mess his glasses have become with the rain. He grins and takes an unexpected turn, hearing Sirius curse behind him as he has to adjust quickly. James laughs, loud and breathless, and takes another narrow turn into a shortcut that leads straight to the front door of his apartment complex.

The second or two it takes James to get the door open is what dooms him in the end. Sirius catches up with him just inside the door. He grabs James and James is laughing until his laughter is swallowed by a greedy kiss.

James groans against Sirius' lips when his back hits the wall next to the entrance door, his hands tugging at Sirius' wet shirt, pulling him ever closer. He tastes of rain and the wildness of the night and James can't get enough.

His head falls back against the wall when Sirius' lips start trailing down the side of his neck. James shivers when Sirius' teeth scrape over the sensitive skin, his hips buck forward, seeking friction on the thigh that Sirius has pushed between his legs, a moan falling from his lips.

He's easy, he knows it, but he's so very hungry for this.

“We should probably get this party upstairs,” Sirius murmurs against James' skin and yes, that's a good idea. It's just hard to let go.

Sirius brushes another kiss to the underside of James' jaw and then steps back. James looks at him through his fogged up glasses, satisfied that Sirius looks just as much of a mess as he feels like he does. He tries to get some much needed air into his lungs, breathing hard as he peels himself away from the wall. He takes one step and then another over to the stairs, his eyes never leaving Sirius who's watching him like a hunting dog ready to pounce.

James smirks and then he's off again, running up the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

Sirius is hot on his heels.

They race up the apartment complex, floor after floor, and James curses himself for his choice of the top floor. Legs burning, he finally gets there, having barely enough time to get his front door open with fumbling hands before Sirius is on him again.

James won't complain. Not at all.

The door crashes close behind them. James' back hits the door and then Sirius' lips are back on his own. James groans into the kiss, his hands reaching for Sirius, but Sirius catches them and pins them to the door over his head and, yes, please.

James makes a sound that's embarrassingly close to a whimper. Sirius' body heat feels amazing against his rain chilled body.

But then Sirius pulls back and the sound becomes one of protest, but only for a moment. Sirius' hands slip beneath James' soaked shirt, peeling it off his damp skin, and James is very much on board with that idea. He leaves his arms raised against the door until Sirius is done getting him out of the clingy shirt and then lowers them to return the favour.

Wet fabric hits the floor and there has never been a better sound to James.

They are back to kissing within seconds. Sirius' hands slide under James' arse and with absolute ease lift him up. With a little squeak of surprise James wraps his legs around Sirius' middle as Sirius pushes away from the door and manoeuvres them through the dark apartment. James is absolutely ready to do anything and everything for that man.

The bedroom door crashes against the wall when Sirius kicks it open but James barely hears it, too focused on the skin to skin contact he's getting right now, until Sirius drops him off on the bed, bouncing.

James can't help but laugh. He pushes up on his elbows but before he can sit up properly Sirius has stepped up between his legs, kicking them apart to make room. A shiver runs through James' body as Sirius grabs the waistband of his sweatpants, his fingers brushing against James' hip bones, but he doesn't pull them down just yet. He looks at James, waiting, his thumbs brush against James' damp skin again until James nods, giving him permission. Only then does he pull the wet sweatpants down and off James' legs, taking his underwear right with them.

James' cock springs free and he should probably be embarrassed about how ready and leaking he already is, but embarrassment is the furthest thing on James' mind. There are other things he has to do right now.

He struggles up into a sitting position and hooks his fingers into Sirius' belt loops, pulling him closer, so close his knees hit the bed frame between James' spread legs. Of course the weirdo was running in cargo pants.

His mouth finds the skin above the waistline, kissing and licking raindrops from Sirius' skin as he works the cargo pants open. A rush of air escapes Sirius' parted lips and his fingers tangle in James' curls as James pushes his trousers down. James wishes he would tug just a little harder.

Well, if you want something you should go for it, that has always been how James approaches life, so he kisses his way further down, his mouth moving over the fabric of Sirius' pants and the clothed cock beneath.

Sirius hisses and tugs at James' hair and James probably shouldn't feel as proud as he does about the wet spot that's quickly growing at the front of Sirius' underwear, but he is. He's very fucking proud.

Taking pity eventually, James finally hooks his fingers into Sirius' pants and pulls them down enough so he can drag his tongue properly along Sirius' length. It earns him a moan and a few curses and another sharp pull on his hair, one that makes James a little cross-eyed.

“Hold your horses,” Sirius mumbles, his voice low and husky and doing funny things to James. He pushes James back onto the bed and steps out of his underwear before he follows.

James uses the time to toss his glasses onto the nightstand and opens the drawer, searching for the bottle of lube he knows is in there. Sirius' lips on his skin are just so distracting that he nearly drops the bottle once he finds it, but Sirius' clever fingers catch it before it can roll away, never to be seen again.

James reaches for him and pulls him into the next kiss, his fingers tangled in Sirius' wet hair that came loose from his bun. It's intoxicating, having him this close, the feeling of Sirius' skin against his own. The weight of Sirius' body on top of his own is both comforting and maddening at the same time and James almost shakes apart at the first brush of Sirius' fingers against his cock.

It should be embarrassing, really, his eagerness, but James doesn't have the time or energy to care, too carried away by the feeling of Sirius' palm. There is lube on his fingers, making the glide more smooth, but James has no idea when that happened.

Sirius' graces him with another slow stroke from base to crown, swirling his thumb over the head of James' cock in a way that makes James almost bite right through his bottom lip, before he shifts his hips a little closer and then closes his fingers around them both.

James whimpers. There is no way he will be able to keep going for much longer. Sirius kisses him, nipping at his lower lip and soothing the sting with his tongue. “Don't hold back on my account,” he murmurs into the kiss, a hint of teasing in his voice, and James is a goner.

He comes with a moan loud enough that even the neighbours might hear it. His back bows off the bed as much as Sirius' hips pinning him down allow, clinging to Sirius so hard he's probably leaving marks. He would apologize but he's too busy seeing stars.

Sirius curses under his breath and buries his face in the crock of James' neck. The rush of new warmth right next to his cock tells James all he needs to know and sends an awful lot of pride through him.

Getting air back into his lungs feels like a bit of a struggle but somehow James manages. He feels boneless in the best way, warm and tingly. He sighs, content, eyes closed as his heartbeat slowly calms back down, dropping his arms to the bed only when Sirius starts to move.

“There should be a box of tissues somewhere over there,” he says, waving into the direction of the nightstand, his eyes still closed.

“Classy,” Sirius chuckles, the bed dipping as he moves. James can't help but smile. He probably looks a little ridiculous, blissed out and grinning like a lunatic, but what else can he do, really?

Sirius is successful at locating the tissue box. He cleans them both off and James is grateful for it since he's not willing to move.

“Come here,” James mumbles when Sirius is done, opening one eye to look at him, even if all he sees is a blurry shape. “Don't you dare leave now.”

“I wouldn't,” Sirius says, laughing softly. He fishes his phone and gun out of the pile on the floor, dropping one on the nightstand and pushing the other underneath the pillow. James lifts his arms until Sirius chuckles and slips back into bed. With a sigh, James wraps his arms around Sirius like an octopus and closes both eyes again.

“You're not clingy at all, hmm?” Sirius asks amused, his lips brushing against James' forehead.

“I've warned you,” James mumbles. He can already feel sleep tugging at him, trying to pull him away, but James tries to hold on to consciousness just a little longer. He just needs to feel a moment more of this.

Sirius' fingers slide through his hair and it's really not helping with staying awake.

“Sleep,” Sirius finally says, barely a whisper in the dark, and damn him really, because who is James not to follow his every command.

#hp #prongsfoot #james potter #sirius black #my writing #the bodyguard AU

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marzipanilla · 19 hours ago

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I read your keep reading break as my keep reading break and this whole rant almost showed up, ass out for the dash xD

I do my best to be like 'yeah that's a kid, limited experience/perceptions whatevs' but also... that is a fictional character written by an adult. At the end of the day if you fail to make me feel anything but annoyance/rage at the character, I will unapologetically dislike them and age is not a limiting factor lol Plus you have so many opportunities to not make him obnoxious (or at the very least justify his obnoxiousness) and then you don't it's like ?? Then you pile on the added factors of why the fuck is Debbie his main parent, and are we ever going to address why Nolan felt compelled to actually produce another child in the middle of his suicidal depression after fucking up his last one- like... Not only is he a plot device to make Mark think about shit that he has plenty of other plot devices making him think about anyway (his dad's 'we're better than them' speech, finding out every other version of him is a prick- like Oliver saying 'what if dad is right' is SO pointless bc it's a thought that should have already occurred to Mark and been faced and- dealt with or not - we didn't need this specific character to talk about it!) so Oliver just basically fucks up other characters arcs/personalities in the process of asking a question THAT SHOULD HAVE ALREADY BEEN ASKED.

I WILL sit down and write Kregg or Lucan using toddler purple boy as a bludgeon against Nolan's head and him having to sit their with his dead son's brains in his mouth and actually face the immediate consequences of his actions instead of getting to run off to a secondary location and decide how to approach it from a distance. Literally NO ONE had to die on Thraxa Nolan. You could have just left.

Yeah the purple-ness is BS. It's like 'Nolan has red blood, Andressa has blue skin... those two colors make purple!' like SIR ??

It almost feels like the characters personalities have been retconned a bit. Like. Mark guilt magnet 'I must control myself' Grayson absolutely failing so hard at that or even apparently caring at failing so hard at that. I already had my secondary post ranting about Debbie's parenting thus far this season lol Like, do these people not remember anything that happened to them previously ?? The trajectory was wobbly, but you had a trajectory! Mark TRYING to get in control and finding it harder could have been a thing ! But no, he just had strength training and now murders his way through his problems ?? Maybe Debbie overcompensating because Nolan WAS a murderer so she put too many heroes vs bad guys shit in Oliver's head ?? but no ?? they're just ?? acting weird ??? instead ??

Nolan disproved that viltrumites aren't inherently incapable of experiencing empathy! He just had to learn it ! And Oliver was definitely raised in a situation where he should have been learning it ! SO WHERE IS THIS ELITISM COMING FROM. WHERE WHERE SHOW. Did his thraxan mom kissing him on the forehead and calling him the specialist boy ever (worth the destruction of her planet!) fuck up his head?? we ever going to talk about Andressa again?? ever?

So like how you talked about not wanting to read the manga while watching the anime bc it changes things- I am unfortunately anticipating way too much and it's kinda throwing things off for me lol I genuinely wonder if I will like this season a lot more on a second watch bc I won't be spending the entire time screaming at the screen about things almost happening. Like. I knew who was the king of Earth in the future, so, the slow ass build up to it just made me fucking impatient. Not to mention my future comic knowledge of how that story line comes around at all just makes me roll my eyes at everything that happened there- tho at least show Mark points out that Immortal could have just, y'know, STOPPED- something his comic counterpart never seemed to realize was a valid thing to say. Like dude. Suicide by Mark is still suicide. Throw your ass into the sun! You met Mark and Kate at the same time, but you remember him and not her? You've had hundreds of wives? Get this man a pocket pussy, apparently he can't experience any empathy for living things unless his dick is getting wet on the reg. Like. Immortal just annoys me so much. Enduring while everything around you dies is an interesting story ! Somehow every time he tries to bring it up I just hate him.

Though he is just another example of something that I think Kirkman had done a few times- which is it doesn't seem to occur to characters that they can say no. Nolan, bud, maybe DON'T become emperor of the people of a planet you know nothing about ?? Did it ever occur to you that would be a BAD MOVE ? You can help out and not be their ruler. Same for Immortal. Not to mention future Mark being so into dictators he assigns one to Earth is wild. Kirkman just seems to really love dictators.

I think Nolan's almost execution and the break out was done SUPER well. Love watching that pathetic man try and drown himself in regret like this bitch doesn't full on have two kids he is escaping responsibility for in the process. Sir. It is time for you to use your punchy punch powers to maybe start punching things back together.

I thought the reveal that Viltrumites were almost extinct was going to happen at the end of last season, so, to say I have been waiting for this news is an understatement xD I also thought one thing I was super worried about got addressed to never come back to haunt me, only to realize it is still VERY possible for it to be brought up and I just have so much anxiety about that- that until I know one way or another my enjoyment of what is in the eps is SO limited. Like, I NEED TO KNOW so I can know whether or not to be mad and just deal with it, or I can be relieved and just enjoy what comes next.

Fun fact, we now know more about Rae- and have seen her in civilian clothes- then we do about Kate. WILD.

I like PFT but having the narrator come back was so unnecessary. They tried to push the comedy so hard this ep, and I imagine it's supposed to be a breather before more oncoming shit hits the fan but.. Allen is enough comedic relief. I don't need a random voice.

Also Mark, your mom has had some serious traumatic experiences with people breaking into her house- maybe don't sneak people in and not tell her about it. Maybe. Yes haha funny moment (and I was full on waiting for Debbie to be like 'tell Eve I said goodnight' through the door) but I will still sit here and be like stop lying to your mom about stupid shit! Let her know whose in the house so she wont be freaked out by it!

And to jump back to previous ep- Mark faced consequences for once, Immortal? The kid who got a mace through the gut? Almost died to his father? Had to go to Atlantis by himself to face the crimes his father committed? Who almost died getting sent on a mission he had to tell Cecil he would be a good dog for ?? Whose mother and brother almost died bc of a guy who escaped the aftermath you IMMORTAL were supposed to be cleaning up? You think Cecil blowing out his eardrums was the first time he faced consequences?? go fuck yourself. Mark was being stupid but that response is so dumb. 'for once' SIR. you have just been dead and depressed you haven't been around. fuck off.

Mark agreeing to go hang out on a beach w Debbie instead of refusing and the beach is Beach City (am now officially thinking too much about this crossover lol)

The way I got caught up on our back and forth I almost forgot this, lol! AND OH MY GOODNESS, IMAGINE? I forget exactly what which point Debbie makes the beach offer, but I’d love when exactly in SU/SUF-timeline they’d go? There’s something so fucking funny to me about them going during the SUF-timeline and always narrowly missing the strange, Steven-shaped mental breakdowns in the back. I know those don’t occur in a single day, but it’s tickling me. How could they miss anything? I don’t know I just think it’s funny.

Though, post-SUF is interesting if Gems can see the similar “world on your shoulders”, Mark has going on! Steven can shunt the narrative in the Gems’ minds, which I think is neat, if I’m not misusing the phrase since the guy’s on the road far away. Or maybe it’s just before Steven goes and they stumble into each other. I’d kinda love Pearl and Debbie interacting, honestly, if they could talk about loving someone who hurt you, hide things from you, even when you thought you knew them so deeply, and they left you to raise a child. Pearl being in a well adjusted space, and Debbie still grieving.

Honestly, the gems could help train Mark, they’re got experience and similar-ish powers in strength, sturdiness, and they can jump/run fast enough for flying to be vaguely similar enough to lecture about, I think. Or Lapis Lazulis, haha! Peridot with her trash can lid! Garnet, I’d love to see if she told Mark anything about his future in vague, well meaning advice. Or even giving relationship advice considering Amber. Or, importantly, how to convince an entire reign to end their colonizing ways, lol. Is Mark perhaps willing to start a war, take advantage of being related to any leaders, or fake his own death to varying results?

In general, there’s something so fucking funny to me about Nolan, in the sake of comparison, being Pink Diamond coded. Like OH, did an important or well respected of the colonizing empire come to earth and learn the beauty of its people and nature, including faking/lying/omitting things about his identity and background to being in, only to feel conflicted when his responsibility still remained, and he tried to free himself from them? Yikes! We’ve been through that before! Like gimme Pink Diamond and Nolan outfit swap rn. This is tickling me so much oh my goodness.

#invincible chatter #flash is goofy and I dont mind that #his constant hitting on the women does annoy me- even tho I do appreciate a good character flaw #silly goofy guys can very easily fall into 'im too silly goofy to register i've comitted a war crime' (see shapesmith)#and THAT bugs me so I can be a tetchy about that when I see a character toe that line #flash hasnt done anything like that but hes riding so close to that line that I just bare my teeth a little at it instinctually lol

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outdatedprometheus · 10 months ago

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Sometimes a family is a butch lesbian hitman, a detective who is SO sick of these guys, and a hedonist little freak

#fallen london #my partner made me and our pal start playing and I'm LOVING it #absolutely HAD to get these guys written down #art 🎨#Dinah Hewitt | The Pertinacious Pickpocket #Enoch Dawson | The Devoted Huntsman #Maury Malodrema | Mr Bees

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buccellato · 2 years ago

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I know it's supposed to be a very serious point of contention between Vash and Wolfwood but the way Wolfwood just continues to fill him with lead after already taking him out makes me snort

He's not getting back up! Just one bullet would've sufficed! Now you're just wasting money!!

#trigunbookclub #trigun #Wolfwood saw the guy get back up and draw his sword and said “no. absolutely not.”#the man is either so horrendously down bad for Vash that he dropped all pretenses of good behavior #or he is just THAT MAD about a dude bringing a sword to a gunfight lmao #and Wolfwood is once again NOT beating his “bad with money” charges #hope they keep this part in Stampede in some way because it really is over the top #repoast because I posted to the wrong blog oopsie daisy #had something written at the beginning but I forgot what it was :clueless:

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turtlespancake · 7 months ago

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me when i write a character who is prone to dooming themself and then they run off and doom themself. core traits are stubbornness and a willingness to disregard their own humanity gET BACK HERE IM NOT DONE WITH YOU

#rambling #surprisingly this is not about jakob.. im just really consistent about my favorite character archetypes 😭😭#WARNING THE NOTES ON THIS ARE REALLY LONG I STARTED RAMBLING #“ouhh i have a headache i'll just lie down and rotate my blorbos in no general direction for a while until it goes away” and then boom.#serious plot considerations. 2 questions answered 24million new questions raised. this is specifically Not what i asked for.#so now im sitting here STILL dizzy running mental calculations on how i can get this bitch out of peril without reworking everything #but they literally keep dying in every timeline 😭😭 every single plausible road leads to them running off and screwing themself over #“character who doesn't realize they want to live until it's way too late to look back” VS #“character who is forced to live and handle the things they never though they'd survive long enough to deal with” FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT.#fucking hell i have never had this much trouble writing a character as i have with them #they genuinely do just run off and do shit without my permission and then i have to pace for an hour or two wondering #“ok they wOULD do that. but should they. do i feel like i can confidently write that.”#im like constantly in this tug of war trying to get them to CHILL #but also they are absolutely my favorite character from the entire project. but like. FUCK GET BACK HERE #is death the most satisfying end to this arc? is someone who was Set on dying then NOT dying the most satisfying end to the arc?#how many bridges can you burn until you irreparably set yourself aflame too?#would ghost or revival plotline work?? would it make sense with the worldbuilding??#do i just Like Them enough to want them to not die?? where do i draw the line between personal bias and a good arc?#is death not feeling as impactful as survival solely because i've been writing for so long that it's lost the initial impact?#and other such plot considerations...#im gonna have such an easy time writing another character though 😭😭 because THAT character's dynamic in the second act #is to stare at character 1 and be like “why are you like this. i mean i know Why but can you chill. please.” and like damn bro me too #actually wait no i think kaey.a is the hardest character i've ever written i take it back #had to worry about his 20million facades AND his Actual feelings AND canon compliance. shit is hard #i still havent finished the k/aeya fic i started back when the chasm first released which is uhh. two years ago. oops.#i think i struggle writing emotionally repressed liars i think thats what this is 😭😭 anyways.#(voice of guy who has been obsessed with nonlinear narratives and tragedies for several years):#“is it too much to kill this character in a nonlinear exploration game with tragic elements”#like bitch what are you talking about 😭😭 YOU'RE the target audience here figure it out #sorry the notes on this are just my writing journal now apparently

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endlessfuckup · 11 months ago

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red white and royal blue is the gayest thing i have ever seen with my own two eyes

#yes even above dan and phil #and i loved absolutely every second of it #some(most) of it sounded like a fanfiction written by a 14 year old #like a fanfiction made into a movie #like a disney movie for the gays #even had prince charming ;)#the guy who plays henry looks exactly like young al pacino and i could not get tf over it the entire time #still cannot get tf over it like #i just had to look up the what his name was in the movie #i was so fucking distracted by that and prince bottom that i never actually heard what his name was #its not henry lmao its alex oops #guys i was paying very close attention to this movie i swear #prince bottom is henry #al pacino is alex #omg why i am down bad please help #red white and royal blue #gayyyy #also uma thurman deserves to be president and Stephen fry had me peeing myself cause of course they got him to play the raging homophobe #why did i write this all in the tags instead of just making a post #the world may never know #and neither do i cause do you actually think that i think lets be real here

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riaki · 1 year ago

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i literally cant stop thinkin’ about highschoolbully!gojo who used to be your ride or die ‘til he started getting attention from those popular jock type guys who are always assholes to everyone. and him being.. well, him means he preens under attention no matter who it’s from, so naturally he started to gravitate towards that group and their little troop of cheerleading fangirls. and then he started distancing from you and without either of you really realizing it, you’ve slipped between the other’s fingers. but the way he acts towards you makes you think he let you fall without moving a muscle to slow you down.

soon enough, a year swings by and by the end of it he’s gone from your life, save as just another face in the gaggle of boys who make crude jokes and laugh at smart kids and pop milk cartoons during lunch just for the hell of it. but you’re minding your own business, ‘cause you’re mature enough to realize that people come and go, no matter how close you might’ve been and you think it’s unfortunate that so many memories could be thrown aside in a blink of an eye, but it makes a lot of sense when you walk past satoru and his friends bullying some random kid. you don’t know him, but you’ve heard enough to realize it’s his girlfriend satoru’s flirting with while his ‘gang’ kick at the kid. and it’s sickening, but you don’t say anything when you walk by.

and when you don’t ever see the kid afterward and catch the dark eyebags under his girlfriend’s eyes, you come to the cruel realization that satoru isn’t the boy who’d bandage the scrape on your knee you got from tripping in the playground or buy you a soda because he’s noticed your sweat when you were walking home and you don’t have any money left on you.

it’s a glass half empty, half full type of situation. on the one hand, you don’t have him anymore. on the other hand, you don’t have him anymore. that is, you lost your best friend, but you’ve also lost someone who has the potential to absolutely ruin your life. and you don’t know whether to be glad or not, so you just mind your own business even if it hurts a little when he ignores you, stops tossing paper at your head in class (unless it’s to embarrass you) and stops walking you to and from school.

but the cherry on top of the shit cake is that he doesn't get it. so when he approaches you in the library one day after satiating the need to tear pages from books and make them into paper airplanes to throw at people, he doesn't seem to understand why you try to ignore him, or put off his attempts to hold a convo. but the worst part is that he's just sleazy and clueless about it. it's like he took an eraser and wiped every single year of your friendship off the chalkboard with one fell swipe, and you wish he'd done that too to the less-than-appropriate messages he and his friends had written towards one of your classmates.

he doesn't understand why you're hesitant to talk, and that's what makes it the worst. he always thinks he's in the right, and he keeps setting you off and it sucks that he knows exactly what sets you off. "i'm an asshole? what're you talking about? really, you're in over your head. you never change." he laughs, and you ignore him, and he gets bored, and he's about to leave when he spots your wallet open next to your book, on the table. there's a polaroid peeking out, and he recognizes the tufts of white hair to be him. but there's a weird feeling in his chest, and he thinks he gets it from you, so he leaves because he thinks you're weird.

and it goes on; you practically become a nobody in satoru's eyes, because of that weird, weird feeling you give him. it's unfamiliar and he's never gotten it before and he doesn't like it. but it's unavoidable when your professor pairs you two for the end-of-term project. and of course, you're ready to do all the work, because that's how it always was between you when you were kids. but sometimes he'd surprise you by helping, and he'd show you that he was actually intelligent just to earn your praise because he liked it. but he ignored you, and you did everything, and it would've been okay if not for his friends egging him on to present your entire project when the day came and leave you with no content for a grade.

that's the first time it hits him: does he really want to do that? but it's not like it'll be the first time; you've always taken the hits for him, because you're naturally smart and you'll pick yourself back up in no time, and you get why he does it, so it'll be okay. so he agrees, and he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you through it, but the nagging weird feeling that blooms in his chest like a pesky weed only grows stronger. that's all his feelings ever seem to do around you.

but before you know it, presentation day swings around. you had coffee this morning (on his card), and you're ready enough to shoot him a small smile that sends his heart a-flutter. so you go up, feeling up to the task and ready until— he starts talking, and talking, and talking, and people don't think that he's taking your words out of your mouth because he's intelligent when he wants to make you praise him and you don't get the chance to get a word in and you notice the guys are laughing and hitting each other's shoulders to themselves in the upper rows and before you know it it's over. people are clapping but moreso they're looking at you and they're whispering— but it's terribly loud and they don't bother to hide it. they call you things that shouldn't bother you but they do anyway, because it's satoru's fault, and you're such a fool for thinking you could have it your way again.

so you leave class early, excusing yourself and ignoring the way your professor gives you a distasteful look and scribbles something next to your name. you're out the door in a second, neglecting your bags and satoru's a little lost because— didn't he just do good? people were clapping, and laughing with him and not at him, but it's attention either way so he doesn't mind. so why do you? why did you look at him like he stabbed you in the back? and his friends are calling his name, and he wishes he could chase after you and do something but he doesn't.

and it's a little sickening what they do next; one of their girls grabbed your bags and tossed it to them, and they've started rifling through it as if they own it, tearing up your shit and dumping everything onto the ground and he's kind of just... glued to the chair by his feelings. his heart feels like it's been patched together and the weird fuzzy feeling he had in his chest that's been cultivating has extinguished to be replaced with something he realizes he's only ever felt when it comes to you— guilt.

he's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize his friend is silently offering him something— nudging his side to get his attention. he takes it without really realizing he moved his hand, and his silent friend with the gauges in his ears and the dark hair gets up and leaves without another word. when satoru looks down, he realizes he's been given your wallet. "the reward for betraying your baby," they call it. like all you're worth is the money in your account.

he's a little curious. that's how he's always been; asking you questions, rummaging through your stuff, laughing sheepishly and shaking it off when you caught him red-handed. so he opens it up, ignoring your sad little cards and the funny look on your license. he's looking for something, subconsciously; but he doesn't find it. there's no white tuft of hair to suggest his presence in your life; just empty black leather. nothing else.

and he doesn't see you after. or the following day. or the following weeks; weeks that turn into months that turn into the end of school and he's graduating but you're not by his side. and neither are his so called 'friends'; the only thing he has to their name is your own ruined friendship. it's a shame; he feels alone. very alone. no fuzzy weird feeling, not even that thing people call guilt. no attention to chase, and connections are ever harder to make. it shouldn'tve mattered that much, right? it was just a presentation. why wouldn't you just come back to him like you always did? were you not still friends...?

but the blood is still on his hands, and he doesn't manage to ever wash it off. guilt has a way of festering; of weighing on the heart 'till there's nothing left to feel or think but unfortunate circumstance and what could've been done differently. it just sucks that he never tried hard enough to keep you from slipping between his grasp. and now, he doesn't even have a polaroid to your friendship's name.

pt.2

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batshit-auspol · 1 year ago

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I just spent some time scrolling through this blog and am suffering from sever laughter. Thanks so much for collating the countries craziest moments. One of my favourites is when Scott Morrison was in Hawaii while the bushfires where burning.

December 2019: As Australia's east coast is engulfed in the worst bushfires in living memory, rumours begin to circulate that Australia's Prime Minister Scott Morrison may have secretly fucked off for a holiday in Hawaii.

Keep in mind, this is what is going down in Australia at the time:

The Hawaii rumour is initially written off as a fringe conspiracy, because surely nobody could be that fuckin tonedeaf, and it was quickly forgotten about... until an Australian man visiting Hawaii UPLOADED A SELFIE ON THE BEACH WITH THE PM THROWING A SHAKA.

At which point all hell broke loose.

Overnight the formerly popular "Scomo" became the most despised man in all of Australia. Think "firefighters shouting out of their windows to news cameras" level of despised.

After about two days of radio silence and pretending like he was still at home running the country, the Prime Minister's handlers finally dragged him onto call with an Australian radio station, where he pinky promised to return to Australia as fast as he could in an attempt to calm things down.

Unfortunately Scott's empathy consultant (a real job) then had to watch Scott pour more gasoline on the dumpster fire by uttering the now famous phrase "Look I don't hold a hose mate" when asked by the radio interviewer why the fucking fuck the fuckhead wasn't fucking in Australia doing his fucking job during a massive fucking crisis.

Testing just how much worse things could get, Scomo then proceeded to NOT rush back to Australia as promised, instead attempting to complete the rest of his holiday, a fact that was exposed when a passerby snapped a picture of him still lounging on the beach two days later.

Eventually, holiday complete, Morrison did reluctantly slink back to Australia, and in an attempt to calm things down, he decided to pay a visit to a small town that had been destroyed by the fires.

Which was a big mistake.

Scomo still had not registered how absolutely and totally he had screwed the poodle with his Hawaiian beach vacation, and he walks into what is now taught in PR classes as one of the greatest examples of "what not do do in a crisis" in all of history.

Scotty from Marketing, as he is now dubbed by the nation, spends a painfully cringe-inducing hour wandering around a burned down town with TV news cameras in tow, having to FORCE PEOPLE TO SHAKE HIS HAND in what is some of the most awkward footage you will ever see.

At this point it's probably also worth mentioning that, before becoming Prime Minister, Scott Morrison's biggest claim to fame in politics was being the guy that was so far up the coal lobby's arse that he literally brought coal into parliament and waved it around, claiming it doesn't hurt people.

So when a protest was organised it turned out to be one big national fuck you to the Prime Minister, the likes of which the world has never seen before or since.

Needless to say, at this point Scomo's career was dead in the water, but thanks to the rules brought in to stop Australian political parties from knifing their leader every two weeks (a popular Aussie passtime) Morrison basically couldn't get fired until after the next election.

And so, when the election rolled around in 2022, we decided that was an opportune time to travel over to Hawaii to erect this bad boy tribute to the Prime Minister, on the very beach where Scomo had sat and drank margaritas that one fateful week in December as Australia burned (thanks to @chaser for funding the ticket)

#australia #auspol #history #scomo #hawaii

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itsallyscorner · 9 months ago

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At Fault | MV1

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: Max invites his ex to a gp and upsets you. Soft and stubborn Max, but he’s a cutie. A mix between angst and fluff, but mostly fluff towards the end. Lots of reader just ranting. Plus a little cameo from the Ferrari WAGs <3.

warnings: Does Kelly count as a warning? Kinda of toxic, I’m not really sure? But who actually likes seeing their boyfriend’s ex girlfriend??

author’s note: Italics are flashbacks! This turned out longer than expected, but I hope you guys like it! It’s also been a while since I’ve written fics, so it there are any errors pls ignore them😭

The tension in the car was thick. So thick, Max believed he could cut it with a knife.

Your arms were crossed as you stared out the window while Max glanced at you wearily every other second. Thankfully, there were only three of you in the car. You and Max in the backseat, and the driver in front being separated by a divider. Though, Max was sure the driver was able to hear the current disagreement between you and him.

Max fidgeted with the lanyard of his paddock pass and stared at the side of your face. He knew he had upset you and honestly you had every right to be. You were biting the inside of your cheek in frustration trying to keep your emotions at bay. As much as you wanted to argue with Max about how you disagreed with his actions, he was due to race in a couple of hours and you didn’t want to add any more stress on his shoulders.

But Max wanted to talk about this now while you were both alone.

“Schatje, are you really mad?” Max asked quietly, leaning closer to you and trying to get you to face him. He truly didn’t mean to dampen your mood before the race. Most importantly, he didn’t like that he was the reason for you being upset. Your brows furrowed ever so slightly and a faint pout was on your lips, both indications that you were in fact not happy with him.

“Yes, Max, I am mad.” You answered, your voice trembling a bit. You had finally turned away from the window and were looking at him. Max felt a pang of guilt in his heart once he saw the look in your eyes. They weren’t glaring at him with the heat of anger, but they were soft and glossy, you were hurt—he hurt you.

Max cautiously reached out for your hand and tangled your fingers together, though your hand felt limp, like you didn’t want to hold his hand at all.

“I told you the truth.” Max said, leaning his head down trying to catch your eyes again. You took in a deep breath before turning to fully face him.

“Yes Max, you did and I absolutely appreciate it. I really do.” You began, grasping his hand between yours. “But that doesn’t make up for that fact that you’ve had this planned out for nearly a month and only told me thirty minutes ago!” You argued.

Thirty minutes ago, before your ride to the paddock can pick you guys up, Max had revealed that his ex-girlfriend, Kelly, and her daughter would be at the garage to watch the race. When you asked how they got passes to the garage, he shared that he had flown them out and provided them with passes for the weekend.

“So she’s been here all weekend?” You questioned him, arms crossed and a brow raised at him. The Italian heat felt even ten times worse as you grew frustrated with your boyfriend.

“Yeah, but they were at the Paddock Club, they’re going to watch the race from the garage though.” Max shrugged, as if it were not a big deal. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder and grasped your hand in his free one.

You couldn’t help the feeling of insecurity seeping into your bones. Kelly was rich and gorgeous, she was a model, and you weren’t. You had a normal job that offered you stability, paid you good money, and you knew how to clean up nice. However, you were no where near her level of anything or any of the other WAGs at that.

“You’ve known this whole time that she was here?” You asked quietly, your brows furrowed at him. You hated that you kept asking him questions, it was like you were interrogating him.

Max looked down at you, confusion etched on his face, “I did, schatje. I flew them out and got them some paddock passes.” You acted before you could speak, and shook your head at him, rolling your eyes in annoyance. Your boyfriend was one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met, however, many people took that as a sign to take advantage of him. While it took him longer to realize it, you noticed it instantly.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset though, I told you the truth, it’s not like I’m doing anything with her.” Max defended himself, his hands wildly moving around. “She reached out telling me that P missed me and wanted to come to a race, it’s not for her, it’s for Penelope.”

“I understand that Max and as harsh as this sounds, Penelope isn’t your responsibility. I get that you helped raise her, but you guys broke up, you don’t need to provide for her anymore.” You threw a hand in the air, emphasizing your point. “Kelly’s fully capable of flying herself out and buying tickets to a race weekend.”

“I was just being nice.” Max raised his voice, also growing frustrated with the situation.

“And she’s still using you!” You fumed, tears welled in the corner of your eyes. “How many times does she have to use you for you to realize it? You guys broke up and she still manages to get what she wants out of you! Do you know how embarrassing it is to walk in and see her there?” You tried to reason with him. While many of his fans didn’t approve of Kelly, you knew Twitter would have a field day clowning you when they find out Kelly was present in the garage. Social media was never always a nice place and you’ve learned to ignore it, but that didn’t mean it stopped the hate from happening.

Max ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“This is ridiculous.” He muttered under his breath, you scoffed and leaned back into your seat, staring at the window again.

“Do you not trust me?” Max asked forcibly, staring at the side of your head again. You let out a defeated sigh and turn your head to look at him, “I do trust you, Max.”

Max’s shoulders slouched as he leaned on the seat sideways, his body fully turned to you.

“Then why do you not trust me with this?” He pushed, nudging your knee with his, trying to get an answer out of you. He knew he was at fault and he just wanted to make it right.

“I don’t trust her.” You simply answered, feeling done with the conversation. The car turned, nearing the entrance of the paddock. You sniffled as you untucked your hair from behind your ears, removing your sunglasses from the top of your head.

“You don’t have to worry about her, schatje. I want you not her, there’s a reason why we broke up.” Max reassured, trying to ease the tension between the two of you.

The car came to a halt, a knock came from the driver, indicating that you guys arrived at the paddock. Before you could leave, you turned to Max and said, “Yet, she’s still here.”

ଓ⋆˙⟡₊ ⊹

Entering the paddock was always a frenzy. The moment you stepped out the car, fans were quick to recognize you, knowing that one of their favorite drivers were right behind you. You slid your sunglasses on and smoothed out the white maxi dress you wore. Max followed in suit and flashed a smile at the fans.

Shouldering his bag, he held his hand out to you, “I know you’re upset, but can I please hold your hand?”

You nodded and entangled your fingers with his. The two of you began your walk into the paddock hand in hand, as fans screamed and waved at Max. He gave your hand a squeeze before guiding you guys to some of the barricades and signing a few things for the fans.

After you guys scanned your passes, Max led you guys to the Red Bull garage. However, you came to a halt. Max was quick to look back at you, “You okay?”

“Yeah—I’m gonna meet up with Alex and Rebecca, if that’s okay? We were planning on seeing each other before the race.” You tell him. A small pout formed on Max’s lips, “Oh, okay, I’ll drop you off.” He offered, still holding your hand.

You and the girls decided to meet up at the Paddock Club. In front of the entrance, Max stood in front of you.

“You’ll come to the garage to watch, right? I need you there.” He asked quietly, so that people passing by cannot hear your conversation.

You nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be there before you’re in the car.”

Max mirrored your actions, “Okay, I love you.” He pulled you in by the waist and pressed a kiss onto your forehead. You squeezed his waist in response, “I love you too.”

Max watched as you entered the building, huffing to himself, while he watched you walk further and further into the building.

Placing your sunglasses above your head, you scan the room until you see one of the girls, Alex was the first to spot you, standing in her spot and waving at you to come over.

“Coucou mon amour!” She greeted you, (Hello, my love!) immediately wrapping you in a hug. You squeal as she squeezed you, “Helloo!” You giggled. You go to greet Rebecca, who is immediately giving you a knowing look. Being the older one amongst the three of you, she was often looked up to as the older sister.

She wrapped an arm around you and smoothed your back, “What’s wrong?” She asked while you got situated in the chair beside her.

You shook your head, “It’s just Max.”

Rebecca grabbed the bottle of champagne on the table and poured some into a flute glass. She offered you the glass, “Thank you, I needed this.”

She smiled watching you take a long sip from the glass, “Oh honey, I know.”

Alex pouted and nudged your foot with hers, “What happened with Max?”

“He invited Kelly to watch the race at the garage today.” You bluntly shared, slumping yourself in your chair.

Rebecca’s eyes widened, “Shut up.”

You raised a brow at her, “Oh, I didn’t even get to the kicker yet.”

Alex’s brows raised, “Which is?”

“He flew her out—he fucking flew her out and gave her tickets for the entire weekend.” You revealed through gritted teeth, still being aware of your surroundings. Rebecca cursed under her breath as Alex took your glass and refilled it with champagne.

Grabbing the glass, you continued, “She’s literally been here all weekend and he only told me this morning. I just don’t get it, they broke up, I don’t know why he’s still so concerned about her.” You took another long sip of champagne,

“What was the reason why?” Rebecca asked you.

“Apparently Penelope missed him—which I can believe, but did he really have to do all the providing when she can financially support herself? I get that he was trying to be nice, but still.” You grunt, fiddling with your glass.

Alex comfortingly rubbed your arm, “No, I get it, if Charles did the same thing with his ex, I’d also be upset.”

“I literally told him that she’s using him once again.” You threw your hands up. “If he wants her to be there so much, he might as well just get back with her. Like—am I crazy for losing my mind at the fact they were in contact with each other, even if it wasn’t in a romantic sense?”

Rebecca shook her head, “No, your feelings are absolutely valid. You’re just concerned and it obviously caught you off guard. He shouldn’t have been texting his ex in the first place.”

You groaned and held your head in your hands, “I hate feeling like this, it makes me question if he actually wants to be with me or not.”

Rebecca held her finger up, “I’m gonna stop you right there.” Placing her hand on your shoulder she says, “Max might be acting very stupid right now, but one thing I know for sure is that Max loves you and absolutely adores you. Without a doubt.”

Alex nodded, agreeing with Rebecca, “Like have you seen the way he looks at you? He literally worships the ground you walk on. I’m sure he’s beating himself up right now for doing what he did.”

“He loves you, (y/n), everyone who’s seen you guys together knows it. I don’t think he’d put himself in this kind of position on purpose, you’ve got that man wrapped around your finger, babe.” Rebecca reassured you, throwing her arm around your shoulder and pulling you into another hug.

“Come on cheer up, who cares if she’s in the garage today? You’re the one he’s gonna be going home with tonight.” You laughed shaking your head at her teasing.

“Hey! Tonight and every single night!” Alex pointed out raising her glass at you.

ଓ⋆˙⟡₊ ⊹

Two hours. It’s been two hours since Max has dropped you off at the Paddock Club and he still hasn’t heard back from you. He’s been distracted all day. During a meeting with Christian and some of the engineers, he couldn’t help but constantly check for a text from you, earning himself a scolding from the team principal. Checo and a couple of people from the team tried talking to him, but he wasn’t paying attention. His eyes wandered wondering when you would enter the garage.

He did in fact see Kelly and P—obviously he was expecting to see them since he invited them, but all he felt while talking to them was guilt. Guilty because he remembered the look of hurt and betrayal in your eyes and how he was the reason behind it. He hated it, he felt grimy, and dirty for going behind your back and texting Kelly. Not even ten minutes into catching up with the mother and daughter, Max realized that you were in fact correct. Kelly had used him again, instantly making advances on him despite knowing he was happily taken. But for the sake of P, Max made sure to be friendly though kept his distance to not feed into her mother’s schemes.

It was nearing lights out and you were still not in the garage. He had gone through his warm ups with Bradley, had his fireproofs and suit on, and even laced up his shoes. Still, no sight of you whatsoever in the garage. He was beginning to worry about you, sending you a couple of messages to your phone.

The car was due to be on the grid and there was about half an hour left till lights out. Max looked around the bustling garage, checking to see if you had snuck in without him seeing, though to no avail, you still weren’t there.

“Max…Max…Max?” GP tried to get Max’s attention. Snapping a finger in front of the driver’s face, Max’s eyes flickered over to his race engineer.

“What do you want now?” Max groaned, throwing his head back. To onlookers, it looked like a typical interaction between Max and GP. Though, GP felt like he was babysitting a child whose attention span couldn’t focus on one thing for more than a few seconds.

“Mate, I’ve been talking to you for the past five minutes.” GP claimed. Choosing to ignore the information he had just “briefed” Max on, he decided to be a friend.

“Where’s your head at?” GP asked Max. The Dutch man sighed, leaning against one of the storage units in the garage.

“I messed up with (y/n). I did something and it was my fault, I know it was. But she’s not happy with me at the moment and I just want to make it right.” Max summarized, not sharing any more details to protect the privacy of your relationship.

GP motioned towards Kelly who was talking to one of the other influencers in the garage, “Does it have to deal with that?”

“Unfortunately.” Max mumbled, crossing his arms and choosing to stare at the floor.

GP took a minute to stare at his driver. Max was deflated, he wasn’t as hyped for the race or over explaining some random fact about god knows what. Instead, Max kept to himself, greeting people when he had to and communicating with his team prior to the race. Other than that, Max chose to stare at his phone and look longingly outside the garage.

“Listen, I don’t know what exactly went down. But I’ve seen you with (y/n) and she clearly makes you happy, we’ve all see how lively you are with her around. You’ve got a lot of groveling to do bud, but it’ll be worth it.” GP advised, clapping Max on the back to wake him up.

“She’ll always be worth it.” Max quietly said, taking another glimpse at his phone. Only to be met with his wallpaper of you and him, with no notifications.

ଓ⋆˙⟡₊ ⊹

Christian Horner stared at his monitor at the pit wall watching as drivers and their teams gathered on the grid. He saw Checo by his car, taking a few sips of water before the race. When the camera panned to Max’s Red Bull, the driver was no where to be seen. Sparing him a second of wondering where his driver was, the camera cut to the garage where Max stood, race suit at his waist, looking no where near ready to participate in the race.

“Why is Max not in the car?” He turned to GP, stress evident on his face. GP turned in his seat and looked back into the garage to see Max pacing. Cursing under his breath, he excused himself from Christian and rushed to Max.

“Max, the race is literally about to start!”

Max stops his pacing and places his hands at his hips, “I need my girlfriend.”

“What?” Bradley and GP both stuttered out. Max deadpanned at the two men in front of him.

“(Y/n), I need to see her before the race.” Max demanded. Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose, “Max, she’ll be here after the race, you’ll be fine.” He pushed the balaclava towards Max’s chest, who simply let the mask fall at his feet.

GP sighed at Max, before calling one of the Red Bull employees.

“Please send out a search for (y/n), Max is refusing to get in the car.” He whispered to the intern. The girl looked at him confusingly but nodded and set out the garage.

ଓ⋆˙⟡₊ ⊹

You rushed as best as you could in kitten heels towards the Red Bull garage. You were supposed to be at the garage at least half an hour ago. You and the girls got caught up catching up with each other’s lives that none of you realized it was getting close to lights out. It truly was a funny sight, the three of you rushing out of the Paddock Club and running through the paddock like a bunch of maniacs.

“(Y/n)!” You heard someone yell. You stopped in your steps and looked around, only to see a girl dressed in Red Bull uniform. You recognized her, you believed her name was Nicole and was an intern for the team this season.

“Hey! Is Max on the grid already?” You approached her, a little sad that you missed seeing him before the race.

“No, he’s actually waiting for you. They’re sending out a search for you because he’s refusing to get in the car.” Nicole explained, placing a gentle hand on your back and guiding you through the crowd of fans and towards the garage.

ଓ⋆˙⟡₊ ⊹

GP released a sigh of relief once he saw you enter the garage. He shoved Max’s shoulder to avert his attention to you.

“What—oh,” Max began, only to stop himself and rush towards you. You met him half way, placing a hand on his elbow.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t meant to stay there for too long.” You quickly apologized. Max shook his head, “I don’t care, I’m just happy you’re here.”

Your brows furrowed at him, “Why are you here? Why aren’t you in the car yet?”

Max placed both his hands on your waist with a faint blush on his cheeks, “I need my goodluck kiss.”

You paused your actions, “You’re kidding me. Max, the race is about to start in five minutes!” You scolded your boyfriend.

“Please, schatje.” He pleaded, leaning closer towards you. Other team members and guests watched the both of you, the scene in front of them peaking their interests.

You gazed up at his stormy eyes, giving in because you knew he was stubborn and wouldn’t stop until he got his way. Plus, the team would hate you if you lowered their chances of scoring points this weekend.

“Just because I kiss you doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you anymore.” You clarified quietly. His forehead nodded against yours, “I know schatje. I promise to make it up to you, I really do.”

A small smile forms on your lips, “I know, Maxie.”

Max takes that as his sign to crash his lips onto yours. One of his hands support the back of your neck while the other rests on your lower back. You smile against his lips, pulling back and placing a peck right above the small mole on his upper lip.

“I love you.” You whispered to him.

“I love you too.” He whispered back. Before you can fully pull away from him he quickly adds, “I’m serious about my promise.”

“I know, baby.” You squeeze him comfortingly. “Now get out there and win the race. Stay safe.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead as both you and GP ushered him towards his gear that’s been waiting to be put on.

ଓ⋆˙⟡₊ ⊹

A man of his word, Max won the race. With at least a five second gap between him and Lando, your boy was top step yet once again. As much as he won, the thrill of seeing him win and crossing the finish line never got old. You celebrated every win of his as if it were his first. You’d always be proud of him, whether he got pole or not.

Many of the engineers and members of the team began to rush towards the grid, eager to greet Max once he got out the car.

Looking around, you suddenly make eye contact with Kelly, who seemed to have been sizing you up. You weren’t really sure what look was on her face, but the hints of a snarl were on her lips. With her nose stuck up in the air, you watched as she carried her daughter and began to follow the rest of the team.

“Don’t mind her. You’re the one he wants to see when he gets out that car.” A voice said from beside you. You jumped, coming face to face with Christian. Your eyes widened at your boyfriend’s boss. Prior to the race, he was informed of the search party the entire team had for you to get Max in the car. While he was annoyed earlier, he thought it was rather cute that Max was so fond of you.

“You know, he’s never begged her for a good luck kiss.” Said Christian, a knowing look on his features. “You on the other hand—he can’t seem to function whenever you’re not around.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know he was gonna put that much of a fight earlier today.” You apologized, feeling a bit flustered. “He’s a bit stubborn sometimes.” You added, to which Christian chuckled at.

“Oh, I know. Max and I have worked together for years.” He stated. He glanced out the garage and motioned towards it, “C’mon now, I’m sure he’s already looking for you.”

ଓ⋆˙⟡₊ ⊹

You make your way through the crowd of Red Bull members, many of them recognizing you and helping you squeeze through till you were at the very front of the barricade.

Max was already out, helmet in his hand, while his other embraced GP and a couple other engineers. You watched as he high-fived Penelope, barely sparing a glance at her mother. A little burst of pride went off in your stomach, you couldn’t help it.

His blue orbs scanned the crowd of red and blue, looking for you. You yell his name, his eyes immediately finding yours. A smile breaks out on his face as he rushed over to you, dropping his helmet in the process. Despite the barricade between you two, he wraps both his arms tightly around you, lifting you off the ground.

“Max!” You squealed, your arms wrapping around his neck. His large hand found your cheek, slightly pulling you away from his neck so he can connect his lips with yours. Naturally, your lips moulded perfectly against his moving in synch. The team erupted in cheers around you.

“I’m so proud of you!” You tell him once your lips separate.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” He grins, gently pinching your bottom lip between his pointer finger and thumb.

He couldn’t stay long, being told that he had to get to the podium for the trophy ceremony.

“I’ll see you after the podium, schatje!” He yelled with a wink over his shoulder, causing a blush to form on your cheeks.

ଓ⋆˙⟡₊ ⊹

The ceremony and the media tent took a while, you finally got to see Max an hour later. You were sitting in his driver’s room, when he bursted through the door already looking for you.

You stood up, smiling at him, “Hey.”

He mirrors your smile. Placing the trophy on the couch he opens his arms for you. You walk into the comfort of his hold, burying your head into the crook of his neck and wrapping your arms around his torso.

Finally it was just the two of you.

“I’m sorry.” You said, though it came out muffled against his skin. Max’s hands stopped the circular motions they were rubbing on your back.

“For what?”

You pulled back looking at him, “I overreacted about the whole Kelly thing. I should’ve taken your word for it.”

Max immediately shook his head, disagreeing with you. “No, you were absolutely right about her. I should’ve listened to you from the beginning. The moment I said hi to them she was already trying to come onto me—I avoided her by the way, I just entertained P.”

“I’m also sorry for what I said about P. I was in the wrong for that comment.” You said, a small grimace on your face when you remembered the off hand comment you made about the poor child.

Max chuckled, “Schatje, seriously, it’s okay.”

His calloused hands were rough against the soft skin of your face. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and cradled your jaw in his hand.

“I may have a soft spot for P, but they’re in my past. You’re my future, (y/n). The future that I only want and see myself in.” Max admitted. Your eyes gleamed at him, “You’re the future I want too, Maxie.”

“Good because you’re not getting rid of me that easily. You’re stuck with me.” He joked, squeezing your cheeks.

“I love you. So much. I know it seemed like I didn’t trust you today, but I want you to know that I do. I fully trust you with my life and I mean it.” You said, your fingers playing with the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck.

Max nodded, “I believe you. I love you too.”

The two of you basked in the silence and comfort of being in each others arms. Max was the first one to break the silence, “You don’t have plans after this right?”

You hummed against his neck, “Besides celebrating your win, nothing. Why?”

“Because I’m taking you out on a date.” Max proudly announced, a goofy smile on his lips.

“Don’t you wanna celebrate with the team?” You asked him. Max shook his head, “Nope, the only person I want to celebrate with tonight is you.”

You giggled at Max’s antics, “Whatever you say, Champ.”

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #mv33 #mv1 #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen angst #max verstappen fanfic

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player042 · 25 days ago

Text

HER SUN, HIS MOON | kang dae-ho.

pairing: kang dae-ho (player 388) x reader

summary: opposites attract, they say, but absolutely no one could prepare you for the impact dae-ho would have in your life. requested here.

warning: pre squid game au, grumpy x sunshine dynamics, reader has personality similar to sae-byeok's, kinda colleagues to friends to lovers, heart-melting dae-ho being utterly smitten and protective, mention of fighting and blood, prepare for banter and love that feels like the perfect balance, and please enjoy ♥️

word count: 3.7k

Dae-ho and you were written in the stars. Not in words, but through a bond that neither time nor reason could break. As if the universe itself had signed a soul contract on your behalf, interlinking the two of you forever, one bright as the sun, the other dark as the night. Because you could think of no other explanation for how you and Dae-ho had found your way to each other.

For he and you were opposites in every conceivable way. He was golden hours spent laughing, and you were the quiet serenity of midnight. He was the light on a summer day, you were the shadow on a winter night. He was a golden retriever, bounding through life with enthusiasm and a need to love and be loved, while you were the black cat, aloof and deliberate, your affection hard-earned and fiercely given. He was the proverbial sunshine boyfriend, and you? The grumpy girlfriend, even if you'd never admit it aloud.

You still remembered the early days before you were together. Back then, you had avoided entanglements, thinking emotions were too unpredictable, too messy. Dae-ho, on the other hand, had been nothing but heart, an open book that practically had shouted his feelings with every glance, every action. Easygoing. Flirty. Compassionate. Gentle. Funny. Supportive. That's how he'd always been. You had worked at the same bookstore café as part-timers, making money on the side while studying at uni, and he had been the kind of coworker who brought in homemade snacks to share, who remembered the regulars' orders, who lit up every corner of the room just by being there

And you? You had preferred the quiet. You'd worked the closing shift to avoid the chaos, stocked the shelves in peace, and only spoke when absolutely necessary. Yet somehow, Dae-ho had decided you were his favorite person in the room.

Work had been slow that day, the kind of lazy afternoon where time seemed to drag. You had been in the back, sorting through new stock, when Dae-ho had appeared like a whirlwind of energy. As usual, he had brought his sunshine into the room, whistling a tune as he had sauntered over to where you had been crouched on the floor.

"Need a hand?" he asked, grinning as he leaned casually against the shelf. His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous glint that always made you wary.

"No," you said simply, focusing on the stack of books in front of you. "I'm fine."

"That's debatable," he replied, crouching down next to you. "You've been glaring at those books like they owe you money. Which, knowing you, isn't completely impossible."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "They're disorganized. It's irritating."

"I think you mean it's irresistible," he corrected, emphasizing the word as he tilted his head to get a better look at your face. "Because you're clearly putting all your energy into ignoring the most charming guy in the room."

You'd turned to him then, giving him a flat look. "Charming? You?"

His hand went to his chest, mock offense lighting up his features. "Ouch. That hurts. Right here." He tapped his heart, then flashed you an exaggerated pout. "You wound me."

"Good," you shot back, turning back to the books. "Maybe it'll teach you some humility."

He let out a soft laugh, his voice dipping lower. "Nah, I think I'll keep my ego intact, thanks. It's my best feature. Or… is it my smile? You've been staring at it a lot lately, so maybe I should ask you."

Your fingers froze on the book in your hand, and you felt heat creep up your neck. Damn him. He always knew exactly how to get under your skin, and worse, he lived for it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said smoothly, though your face betrayed you with the faintest hint of pink in your cheeks.

"Oh, come on," he teased, leaning in closer. "Don't play coy with me. I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention."

You turned to glare at him, which only made him grin wider. "You're imagining things."

"Am I?" His voice was soft now, his gaze steady as he inched just a bit closer. "Because I'd bet my entire paycheck that you're thinking about how good I'd look kissing you right now."

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat at his boldness. But you weren't going to give him the satisfaction. "That's a terrible bet," you deadpanned with your best pokerface, setting the book aside. "You don't even make that much."

His laughter echoed in the small space, rich and full of delight. "See? That's exactly why you're my favorite."

"You're annoying," you retorted, standing up and dusting off your jeans.

"And yet, you keep me around." He stood as well, towering over you slightly. His boyish grin softened into something more genuine, his eyes lingering on yours. "Admit it, you'd miss me if I wasn't here."

You had rolled your eyes, "You wish."

"I do," he remarked, "And you love it," he winked at you before strolling off, whistling that same tune as before.

And damn it, you did love it.

No one understood it back then. This thing you two had. They still didn't understand. How could someone so effervescent, so outwardly bright, have chosen someone so reserved, so calculated? How could two people so different orbit each other with such ease? But honestly, they didn't need to understand. It was him and you that counted. Two sides of the same coin, perfectly balanced in your differences, inseparable in ways that defied explanation.

And so, it began, this undefined connection between you. Gradually, you found yourselves spending more and more time together. Dinners after work became a casual routine, and weekends often led to shared nights out at bars.

On one particular Saturday night, the bar you went to was packed; the air buzzing with laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of a jukebox in the corner. It was one of those rare nights where you let yourself relax, even though relaxing wasn't exactly your forte. Of course, it helped that Dae-ho was there, his larger-than-life presence somehow managing to make you forget how crowded and loud the place was.

You were sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, while Dae-ho leaned against the counter beside you, a mischievous grin perpetually plastered on his face. He was in rare form all evening, tossing out jokes and one-liners, testing just how far he could push your usual stoic demeanor.

"Come on," he teased, nudging your arm gently. "I know, you're having fun. You're smiling. At least on the inside."

You shot him a sidelong glance, unimpressed. "I don't smile."

"Not true," he countered, wagging a finger at you. "You smiled that one time when I tripped on the stairs."

"That wasn't a smile," you clarified with absolutely no emotion in your face, "That was schadenfreude."

"Call it whatever you want," he replied with a wink. "It still counts."

Your lips twitched slightly at that, betraying a flicker of amusement you tried to hide. Of course, Dae-ho noticed instantly, pointing at you triumphantly.

"Aww, I'm growing on you."

"Like mold," you muttered, taking another sip of your drink to mask your expression.

Undeterred, he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "You know, I've been told I have a certain… effect on people. Charm, charisma, devastating good looks, take your pick."

"Is that what your sisters told you?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

His grin widened. "Ah, there's the sharp tongue I love. Keep it coming, baby."

"Stop calling me that," you grumbled, even as your stomach flipped at the nickname.

As the evening went on, the two of you fell into a rhythm of teasing and banter, your words volleying back and forth like it was second nature. The bustling crowd and occasional jostle of bodies around you became background noise as your attention fixated on each other. What you did notice, however, was how close he's got. His shoulder brushed yours, his warm breath tickling your ear as he spoke in that low, teasing tone.

"So," he said casually, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "how long are you going to keep pretending you don't like me?"

You snorted, leaning back slightly in an attempt to create some distance, not that it helped. "What makes you think I like you?"

"Your complete inability to look me in the eye when I do this," he explained, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture had been so smooth, so effortlessly intimate, it left you momentarily speechless.

"Is your ego always this big, or is it just me?" you managed to ask, though your voice had sounded weaker than you intended.

"Just you," he replied, his grin softening into something more genuine. "You bring out the best in me, moonbeam."

Before you could formulate a snappy retort, a commotion erupted behind you. Raised voices and curses cut through the background noise, drawing your attention to a group of men arguing near a table. One of them shoved another, and you instinctively tensed.

"Dae-ho," you hissed, elbowing him. "Something's happening."

"Huh?" He blinked, finally tearing his gaze away from you to glance in the direction of the chaos. "Oh. Looks like a fight."

"Yeah, thanks, Sherlock," you muttered, standing up as the tension escalated. One of the men pulled out a knife, waving it threateningly.

"Let's just get out of here," you grabbed Dae-ho's arm. But before you could pull him away, the fight spilled dangerously close to the bar.

Everything that happened next was a blur. The man with the knife lunged forward, clearly aiming for his opponent, but the latter ducked, and somehow, Dae-ho, who inexplicably stepped forward, took the hit instead.

"Shit!" you yelled, catching him as he stumbled back. The knife had grazed his side, leaving a shallow but nasty wound. Blood seeped through his shirt, and panic had gripped you.

"Dae-ho!" you exclaimed, your hands gripping his shoulders. "What the hell were you thinking?"

He winced, a crooked grin tugging at his lips despite the pain. "Guess I wasn't."

"No kidding," you snapped, grabbing a napkin from the bar to press against his wound. "Who gets stabbed because they're too busy flirting?"

"Is that… your way of admitting I'm hard to resist?" he asked, his voice strained but still tinged with humor.

You glared at him, though your heart was racing for entirely different reasons. "Shut up and sit down. You're bleeding."

"I've had worse," he said, but he sank obediently into a nearby chair, his hand covering yours as you applied pressure to his wound. "Besides, I couldn't let anything happen to you."

"I was fine," you muttered through gritted teeth. "You're the one who almost got killed because you can't stop playing knight in shining armor."

"Be honest," he said with a weak chuckle. "You'd really miss me if I wasn't around."

You froze at his words, remembering the last time, he's said them, your breath hitching. But this time, the thought of losing him, wasn't so far away. Momentarily, the noise of the bar faded, replaced by the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

"Don't be stupid," you said softly.

"I knew it! I do have an effect on you," he grinned triumphantly, "I'll take my victory now, thanks."

You rolled your eyes, but the faint tremble in your hands gave you away. "Just… try not to die, okay?"

His grin widened, despite the pain etched across his face. "If it means seeing you worried about me? Worth it."

As much as you wanted to deny it back then, he hadn't been wrong. You would miss him. And that had terrified you more than any knife ever could.

Your relationship had always been a slow burn, like embers catching fire after months of waiting for the perfect conditions. On that rainy Saturday night, after the chaos at the bar, you found yourself driving Dae-ho to the hospital, his side patched up with hastily wrapped gauze that barely held back the bleeding. He sat in the passenger seat, uncharacteristically quiet, his usual energy dampened by the pain and the rain drumming on the windshield.

"You didn't have to do this," he muttered after a while, his head leaning back against the seat.

"Of course I did," you replied without looking at him, your knuckles tight around the steering wheel. "I wasn't going to let you bleed out in some alley."

He chuckled faintly, the sound tinged with both amusement and exhaustion. "You've got a funny way of showing you care."

You ignored him, keeping your focus on the road, though your heart clenched at the way his voice sounded weaker than usual.

At the hospital, you stayed with him through the stitches, arms crossed over your chest as he cracked half-hearted jokes to distract himself from the needle. When the nurse asked if you were his girlfriend, you didn't bother to deny it, instead rolling your eyes and muttering, "Just patch him up, will you?"

By the time you were finally helping him to his apartment, the rain had turned into a steady downpour. He leaned on you as you guided him up the stairs, his weight a reminder of how fragile this moment felt despite the humor he tried to inject into it.

As you reached the cover of his apartment's awning, you let out a breath, finally releasing your grip on his arm. The warm glow of the entryway light cast over the two of you, highlighting the faint smirk tugging at his lips despite everything.

"I've got to say," he began, leaning heavily against the doorframe, "I think this is the longest you've ever willingly spent with me. Kind of feels like progress."

You shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it. "You're an idiot," you said, shaking your head. "Why do you always make everything a joke?"

"Because someone's gotta balance us out," he quipped, though his grin faltered as he studied your face. "You're always so serious, moonbeam."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the sound of rain filling the silence. He tilted his head slightly, as if debating whether to push further. Then, in a softer tone, he said, "Why do you act like you don't care when I know you do?"

His question caught you off guard, the vulnerability in his voice digging into the walls you'd carefully built around yourself. You looked away, the words forming in your throat before you could stop them. "Because caring about people… it hurts. And I've had enough of that."

Silence stretched between you again, heavier this time. When you finally looked at him, the teasing glint in his eyes was gone, replaced by something deeper, something that made your chest tighten.

"You don't have to be scared of me," he said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't get it," you mumbled, more to yourself than to him.

"Don't get what?"

"You. Why you're always so nice to me."

He tilted his head as he studied you through the rain. "Because you're worth it," he said simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, his voice soft but certain. "And because I like you."

The words caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat. You could only stare at him, the rain a gentle soundtrack to the weight of his confession.

"Say something, moonbeam," he teased, his grin crooked but genuine.

The rawness of his words, the way he had said them like a promise, made something inside you snap. Before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped closer, your hands reaching for his collar. You kissed him, tentative at first, your lips brushing against his like you were testing the waters. He froze, clearly surprised, but only for a short moment. Then his hands were on your waist, steadying you as he kissed you back with a tenderness that belied his usual boldness.

The warmth of his lips, the faint taste of blood and rain, made your head spin. It wasn't rushed or frantic, it was slow, deliberate, like he didn't want to miss a single second of it. When you pulled back, his eyes searched yours, his expression soft but unreadable.

"That's a good start," he murmured, his fingers brushing a raindrop from your cheek.

And that was the night everything shifted.

Even now, years later, as you sat curled up on the couch in one of his oversized hoodies, that kiss lingered in your memory, replaying in these quiet moments like a favorite song. You hadn't realized it then, but that kiss had marked the beginning of a life you'd never imagined for yourself, a life with him. You were lazily scrolling through your phone, as the smell of coffee wafted from the kitchen, a comforting scent that told you Dae-ho was busy doing something, blending with the faint hum of his voice as he moved about.

You smiled to yourself, tracing the worn fabric of the hoodie with your fingertips.

"Babe," his voice called from the kitchen, teasing and light, pulling you from your thoughts, "if I bring you coffee in bed, does that make me husband material, or is it too early for that kind of promotion?"

You snorted, setting your phone down as you stretched. "You've gotta stop campaigning so hard, Dae-ho. It's getting desperate."

He appeared in the doorway, holding two mugs of steaming coffee and wearing the kind of grin that made your stomach flip. "Desperate? Honey, this is a demonstration of premium boyfriend services." He crossed the room, setting the mugs on the coffee table before flopping down next to you.

"Premium?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "You didn't even bring toast."

He gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Are you doubting the quality of my care and devotion?"

"I'm just saying," you replied with a smirk, "a little effort wouldn't kill you."

"Oh, you want effort?" he teased, leaning over you, his face suddenly much closer than you anticipated. His arm stretched over the back of the couch, caging you in just slightly. "Name it, and it's yours."

You stared at him, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "Okay. Toast. I want toast."

He narrowed his eyes playfully, tilting his head. "You sure about that? Not, I don't know, me? Because I'm sitting right here."

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed as he leaned closer, the playful glint in his eyes softening into something warmer. "You're still annoying," you said under your breath, trying to sound in-fact annoyed, but your voice betrayed you, coming out softer than you intended.

"And you're adorable," he shot back, his lips brushing against your forehead. "I think we're even."

The warmth of his breath lingered on your skin as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His hand slid down to your waist, tugging you closer until your legs were tangled together, his thumb idly tracing circles over the fabric of your hoodie.

"You look good in my clothes," he murmured, his voice dipping lower. "Almost too good. How am I supposed to let you out of this apartment now?"

You couldn't stop the small laugh that bubbled up, even as your heart raced. "Who said I was going anywhere?"

His grin widened at your response, and before you could say anything else, he turned you with a swift motion, settling you on top of him so that your legs straddled his hips. The shift left you breathless, your bare thighs brushing against his sides as his hands splayed firmly on your waist, holding you in place.

"Good," he said, his voice lower now, a little rougher around the edges. His dark eyes held yours, their usual playfulness tempered with something deeper, something that made your stomach flutter. "Because I can't get enough of you."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. He tilted his head back slightly, his thumb tracing absent patterns along your hip. "You, moonbeam," he murmured, his gaze intense. "You're addicting. Like I'm craving something I can't ever stop wanting."

You felt your breath hitch, your heart thudding in your chest. You tried to compose yourself, to play it cool, but the way he looked at you made it impossible to be unaffected. Instead, you leaned forward slightly, letting your hands rest on his chest. "Dae-ho," you softly said his name the way you knew it drove him crazy, "You keep talking like that, and I might think you're the romantic one in this relationship."

His lips quirked into a smirk, but his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer. "Don't think. Know. And I'll keep proving it until you never question it again."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound blending with the warmth of his presence. "You're setting the bar pretty high for yourself, you know."

He shrugged, his hands never leaving your waist, "That just means I have to keep finding ways to spoil you."

In that moment, the world outside disappeared, leaving just the two of you tangled together. His hands slowly slid down to your thighs now, his thumbs brushing over your skin, while his gaze never left yours. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and his arms circled back around you, holding you impossibly close as though you might vanish if he didn't.

"I told you," he murmured against your lips. "Addicting."

"I know," you said softly, capturing his lips in another slow kiss. "And that's why I love you."

His boyish grin returned against your lips, softer this time, "I love you, too. But I'm still not getting up for toast."

You burst out laughing, and he pulled you even tighter against him, his chuckle rumbling through his chest as he pressed a kiss against your jaw. Right then and there, everything felt right, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. You smiled, letting yourself melt into him, and you thought to yourself that this was where you were meant to be. Not because he was your sun or you were his moon, but because together, you created something whole.

Something timeless.

Something infinite.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

1K notes · View notes

nhlclover · 3 months ago

Text

ALL'S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR QUINN HUGHES

pairings: quinn hughes x fem!reader, (little bit of) jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: trevor invites you to a lakehouse for the summer, attempting to set him up with his friend. however, the summer doesn't go to plan when you meet his older brother who captures your eye and flips everything upside down.

warnings: very obviously angst, sort of a love triangle, jack and quinn kind of hating each other, slow burn, reader and trevor having a sibling type relationship, one singular kiss, brief appearances from trevor & luke

word count: 11.6k

notes: wooooo mama this is the absolute longest thing i've ever written. i really hope you guys enjoy it, i'm pretty happy with this.

The scene of the lake house standing tall in front of you was something straight out of your imagination. It was picturesque, the way the large house was nestled amongst the pine trees and the glimmering water sparkling behind it. It was just the way that Trevor had described it when he invited (or rather insisted) you to come to his buddy’s lake house this summer.

“You’ll love it! It’s so nice up there,” Trevor had urged, his enthusiasm infectious. You could still hear his voice, brimming with excitement. “It’s my friend Jack’s place. You guys would get along great! And his brothers are super chill too.”

At the time, you’d felt a mix of curiosity and skepticism. It’d been about three years you’d been friends with Trevor, long enough to know that when his tone got this excited and he was this insistent, he was up to something.

“Are you trying to set me up with him?” you’d asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously at Trevor as the two of you sat in a coffee shop a few months ago. He had been uncharacteristically fidgety, bouncing his knee up and down while stirring his iced coffee with an unnecessary amount of focus.

Trevor had grinned at you in that annoyingly charming way he did when he was caught. “Nooo, I’m just saying you guys would vibe. He’s a cool guy. Super chill.”

You rolled your eyes, folding your arms across your chest. “Uh-huh. And his brothers?”

“Also cool!” Trevor leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “But listen, Jack’s the one I think you’d really like. Just come for like, a week or two, see what happens. No pressure. I promise you’ll have fun.”

You’d hesitated, not entirely convinced. But Trevor knew exactly how to play on your curiosity, and a month later, you found yourself packing a bag for a summer getaway at some lake house owned by Trevor’s friend, Jack. Despite your reservations, a part of you was intrigued. What if Trevor was right?

The drive to the lake house had been a blur, punctuated by Trevor’s nonstop chatter and your own uncertain silence. You weren’t opposed to meeting Jack. Trevor had sung his praises for months, claiming you two had more in common than either of you realized. As far as setups went, this wasn’t terrible — you could trust Trevor to have good judgment. But still, you were unsure and slightly uneasy about the whole situation.

When you arrive, Jack is already waiting outside, leaning against the porch rail, hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts. He’s smiling — an easy, laid-back smile that makes you smile back automatically. The sun filters through the trees, casting warm, gold light on the porch, and for a moment, everything feels serene.

Trevor wasn’t lying when he commented about Jack’s appearance. “Some people call him a pretty boy but… I mean he is pretty, but he’s a good-looking dude, y’know?” He was definitely attractive, something anyone could admit you thought, but he wasn’t totally your type.

Trevor bounds up the steps of the porch, dapping up Jack and pulling him in for a hug. You followed, stopping at the bottom of the steps, watching as Trevor whispered something into Jack's ear, Jack’s eyes catching yours as a small smile appeared on his lips.

Jack steps forward, extending a hand. “Hey, you must be y/n. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says, his voice warm with that relaxed confidence you’d expect from someone who’s used to being the center of attention.

You shake his hand, feeling the easy smile on your face widen a little. “All good things, I hope.”

Trevor laughs, throwing an arm around Jack’s shoulder. “Mostly good things.” He winks at you, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

Jack offers to give you a quick tour of the place, and you agree, letting him guide you inside while Trevor stays back, grumbling to himself about having to bring in your bags. The inside of the house is as beautiful as the outside, with high ceilings, wooden beams, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the lake. Despite being a new build, it has a cozy, rustic feel to it. Jack pointed out each room as you went, keeping up a steady flow of conversation that put you at ease. He was friendly and thoughtful, making sure you felt welcomed, and it struck you as genuine. You could see why Trevor thought you’d get along with him.

“And this is the back deck,” Jack said as he pushed open a sliding door, revealing a sprawling view of the lake, with a dock stretching out in front of the property. The lake is glittering and relatively calm, aside from a figure disturbing the water. You squint, watching as the swimmer glides smoothly through the lake.

“Who’s that?” you ask Jack, eyes not leaving the figure as you watch him pull himself up onto the wooden dock, pushing dark wet hair from his face.

“That’s Quinn,” Jack says, following your gaze and glancing out toward the dock. “My older brother.”

The sun seems to linger on Quinn’s form, highlighting the toned muscles in his arms as he stretches briefly, rolling his shoulders to ease out any lingering tension from his swim. Droplets of water cling to his skin, catching the sunlight and tracing down his chest in slow, winding trails emphasizing the smooth contours of his muscles as they glisten.

“Q!” Jack shouts, whistling to get his brother’s attention. Quinn’s gaze snaps to the two of you, your pulse quickening as his eyes land on you. “Come up here!”

Quinn grabs his towel from the dock, throwing it over his shoulder as he makes his way up the lawn towards you. As he climbs the steps to the deck, you feel his eyes travel over you, not in a way that feels intimidating, but with a curiosity that mirrors your own. There’s something magnetic about him, something calm and steady that draws you in as he steps up onto the deck, his mouth curving into a small, barely-there smile.

“This is Trevor’s friend, y/n. She’s joining us for the summer” Jack introduces.

As Quinn’s gaze flickers back to you, you notice there’s something about the way he looks at you — subtle, assessing. His gaze has a certain depth, a look you can’t quite decipher. It lingers just a second longer than what feels typical, enough to make your heartbeat skip, to leave you questioning the flicker of interest in his expression.

“Nice to meet you,” Quinn says, his voice low and smooth, a perfect complement to the quiet confidence he exudes. He reaches out to shake your hand, and as your fingers meet, you notice how warm his touch feels, even with the cool water droplets still lingering on his skin.

Up close, he’s even more striking. There’s a sort of ruggedness to him, outlined by the sharpness of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze. His eyes, a greenish shade of blue, hold yours with a calm intensity that makes it hard to look away.

“Nice to meet you too,” you manage, your voice coming out softer than you intended, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You mentally kick yourself, hoping he doesn’t notice, but the glimmer in his eyes suggests otherwise.

Jack, oblivious to the undercurrent, clapped his hands, breaking the moment. “Alright, well, there’s more to see, and if we don’t get back, Trevor’s going to start whining about being abandoned,” he joked.

You chuckle, your eyes pulling away from Quinns’ for the first time since he joined you on the porch. But as you turned to follow Jack back inside, you couldn’t help but glance back at Quinn. He was still watching you, his expression softened just slightly, and you felt a quiet thrill at the way he watched you.

The first week at the lakehouse passes in a flurry of days that blur together in laughter and lakeside relaxation. You fall into an easy routine of swimming, grilling, and long talks on the deck. Jack and Trevor keep things lively, always organizing something, whether it’s an impromptu game of cornhole, a daring cliff dive, or a spontaneous trip into town.

With Jack, the connection forms fast. He’s lighthearted, quick with a joke, and endlessly charming. He keeps you laughing and keeps the vibe lighthearted. His energy is infectious, and he keeps you roped into every activity, whether it’s cliff-jumping or getting you to help him with dinner when it’s his turn. You can tell that Trevor’s plan to get the two of you set up is working for Jack, as he lingers closer, laughs harder at your jokes, and you begin to feel his gaze linger on you just a little too long.

But it’s Quinn who holds your attention in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Quinn is different from Jack in nearly every way. Where Jack is open and quick to draw you into his orbit, Quinn lingers on the edges, observing and listening. When he speaks, it’s with a low, steady voice that commands attention without trying. And unlike Jack’s energy, which feels like the buzz of the sun overhead, Quinn’s is deep and mysterious like the lake.

You find yourself gravitating toward him at every opportunity, captivated by the way he moves through the days with an unruffled calm. The nights at the lake house slip into an easy rhythm, with Quinn and you inevitably being the last ones awake as the both of you are night owls. Most nights, you find yourselves lingering on the porch, wrapped in the gentle hum of crickets and the low whisper of the lake. With the others upstairs, fast asleep, you and Quinn fall into intimate conversations, shared only between the two of you.

One night, you find yourselves tucked away on the porch, the air a little cooler than the other nights. You are curled up on a rocking chair, bundled up in a hoodie you’d borrowed from Jack. Quinn sat across from you, the beer he’d started during dinner going warm in his hand.

Quinn studies you, his eyes catching the faint glow of the porch light as he swirls his bottle absentmindedly. “So,” he begins, breaking the comfortable silence, “What’s California like?” He leans forward, genuinely interested, his voice carrying a warmth that makes you want to spill everything about life on the West Coast.

A soft smile creeps onto your face. “It’s… different from here,” you admit, glancing out at the lake where the moon dances on the still water. “It’s a bit fast-paced. And warm. Lots of sun, lots of people. But sometimes, it feels like everyone’s moving so quickly that you get lost in the crowd.”

Quinn nods, his eyes steady on you. “I get it. I feel the same way about Vancouver sometimes. Coming back here… it just reminds me that there's more than the noise and rush. There’s… balance out here.” He gestures out toward the lake, his voice contemplative. “Like all of this has a way of pulling you back to what matters.”

His words resonate deeply, and you find yourself nodding. “Exactly,” you murmur. “It’s like there’s space to breathe. And you notice things that usually get lost in all the… chaos.”

Quinn’s gaze lingers on you a moment longer, a small smile forming at the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad you came. It’s been… good to have you here,” he says quietly, his eyes soft. “We don’t have other people up here often.”

Your heart pounds a little faster at the sincerity in his voice, and for a second, the rest of the world disappears. There’s only Quinn and the quiet lake, and the feeling that he understands you in a way you hadn't expected anyone to. You hold his gaze, feeling the electricity between you grow, filling the silence with something you can’t quite name.

But then, as if drawn back to reality, Quinn’s eyes shift, his expression subtly changing. “And Jack,” he says, almost as an afterthought. “He… really likes you, you know? He doesn’t say it, but I can tell.”

It feels like a splash of cold water. You break eye contact, pulling your hoodie closer around you, the warmth you felt moments ago dissipating. The weight of Jack’s interest hangs heavily between you and Quinn now, an undeniable reminder of the complicated line you’re toeing.

“Right, yeah…” you reply softly, looking down, your voice tinged with a mix of guilt and frustration. You hadn’t meant for this to get complicated, yet here you are, caught between two brothers who couldn’t be more different.

An uncomfortable silence settles over you both, thick and heavy. Quinn’s eyes linger on you, as if he’s about to say something more, but he holds back. His lips press into a thin line, and you wonder if he’s feeling the same conflict, the same confusion that’s twisting knots inside you.

You force yourself to look away, swallowing hard. “I think… I should probably head to bed,” you murmur, avoiding his gaze. You stand up, offering him a small, tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Goodnight, Quinn.”

Quinn nods, his expression unreadable as he watches you ebb towards the door. “Goodnight, y/n,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, though there’s a flicker of something in his gaze — disappointment, perhaps, or longing. You slip inside, leaving him on the porch, the weight of his gaze heavy on your back as you close the door.

In bed, you toss and turn, Quinn’s words and the feel of his gaze lingering with you. Your mind is a whirlwind, caught between the easy, carefree friendship that’s growing with Jack and the simmering tension you feel with Quinn. Jack is perfectly nice and, like Trevor told you, the two of you were getting along swimmingly.

But no matter how much you try, your thoughts always drift back to Quinn. There’s something undeniably different about him, something that makes it impossible to feel the same way about Jack, no matter how hard you try. Jack’s presence is light and friendly but with Quinn… it’s like there’s a hidden gravity pulling you toward him, a quiet understanding that lingers beneath the surface of every conversation. Every night on that porch, he’s become your anchor, drawing you into a world that feels more honest, more intimate.

You lie there, staring up at the ceiling, your mind replaying the way he looked at you tonight — that almost undetectable spark that you’re sure you didn’t imagine. The way he listens to you, like every word matters, as he sees past the small talk and into the parts of you you rarely share. There’s no pretending with Quinn. And even though he’d mentioned Jack, it only made you realize how much more you’re drawn to Quinn. Jack might be developing feelings for you, but it’s Quinn who fills your thoughts, who leaves you breathless in a way you can’t ignore.

You pull the covers tighter around you, willing sleep to take you, but every thought seems to lead back to Quinn, to the way he made you feel seen, understood — even in silence.

The next morning, you do your best to shake off the lingering tension from the night before, determined to keep things light and normal. Under Jack’s enthusiastic suggestion, the group decides to spend the day out on the lake, hoping the sun and water will wash away any unease. It’s a sunny day, warm with a light breeze, and the water sparkles invitingly under the sunlight, making you think that everything might just go smoothly.

The boat is anchored in a calm spot on the lake and, despite the wonderful weather, there doesn’t seem to be another boat around. Trevor and Luke sit up in the bow, arguing about which mascot would win in a fight between Mr. Clean and Tony the Tiger.

Jack is quick to pull you into the action, handing you a beer from the cooler as he grins. “Alright,” he says, his smile as wide as the lake. “Are you ready for the full lake house experience? Because to really do that, you’ve got to jump off the boat at least once today.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you crack open the can. “I’m pretty sure you’re just making up rules to mess with me.”

He shrugs, a playful glint in his eye. “Maybe, but you have to do it anyway,” he shrugs.

Trevor chimes in, chuckling from his spot. “Jack’s right, y/n. First-time lake visitors have to jump. It’s tradition!”

You chuckle, your gaze drifting up to Jack as he stands in front of you. The sun shines directly behind him, casting him in a golden halo, the bright rays spilling around his frame in a way that makes him look almost ethereal. For a moment, you can see why anyone would fall for that charm. But even with this picture-perfect moment, you feel a pang of regret that you can’t feel more for him, because, somehow, your thoughts are pulled elsewhere and on someone else.

Jack’s laughter brings you back to the moment, and he leans a little closer. “Come on, we can make it a team effort. I mean, if you’re too nervous, I can just hold your hand.” His voice is playful, but there’s a hint of sincerity in his words, a hope that you’ll let him bridge the gap he’s trying so hard to close.

Your smile is genuine, but before you can respond, you hear Quinn's low chuckle from behind you. It’s soft, barely audible over the hum of the boat’s motor, but enough to pull your focus completely away from Jack. You glance back at Quinn who’s sat on the back bench, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, a flicker of something in his gaze as it bears down on the two of you.

Your attention is pulled back to Jack as he reaches for your hand in a gesture that feels both playful and pointed. “Come on, y/n, it’ll be an official initiation. We’ll jump together, yeah?”

Your gaze flickers between Jack’s outstretched hand and Quinn, who’s watching with an inscrutable expression, his eyes narrowed slightly as he leans back, crossing his arms. You can’t deny there’s an awkward tension here, a silent push-and-pull between the two brothers that seems to amplify whenever Quinn is nearby.

Swallowing the strange, charged feeling building between you all, you look back at Jack and nod, forcing a lighthearted smile as you stand up, pulling off the oversized t-shirt you wore as a coverup. You see Jack’s eyes scan your figure, hearing him gasp quietly. You blush, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, taking his hand. He grins in triumph, his fingers warm against yours as he helps you stand at the edge of the boat. He holds on a little tighter than necessary, and the flicker of anticipation in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Ready?” Jack asks, his voice softer now, his gaze lingering a bit too long as he watches your expression. There’s a hopeful vulnerability in his face, a look that makes you hesitate for a moment. You don’t want to hurt him, but there’s a part of you that wishes he’d pull back, that he’d realize you’re not as invested in this connection as he is.

You manage a nod, hoping he doesn’t notice the small sigh you let slip. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He beams, counting down with a quiet “three… two… one!” before the two of you leap into the lake together, the cool water rushing up to meet you. When you surface, you’re greeted by Jack’s laughter as he splashes you, pulling you into a playful water fight. You laugh along, though your eyes instinctively drift toward the boat, where Quinn looks over the edge, watching you both with an unreadable expression.

Jack’s laughter fades slightly as he notices your attention elsewhere, his face falling for a fraction of a second. But he quickly masks it, pulling you back with a light splash. “Hey, stay with me here,” he says, his tone half-joking, half-pleading. And you want to, you really do, but Quinn’s gaze is magnetic, and you can’t help but feel pulled toward him, as if there’s an invisible thread between the two of you.

Eventually, Jack climbs back onto the boat, reaching out to help you up. But the moment you step back on board, the charged silence returns, thick and stifling, as Quinn hands you a towel, his fingers brushing against yours just long enough to send a spark up your arm. You catch his gaze for a brief second, and you’re struck by the quiet intensity in his eyes, a longing that mirrors your own.

Jack clears his throat, his shoulders tensing slightly as he glances between you and Quinn. He lets out a forced laugh, trying to dispel the tension. “Alright, what’s next? We could always do another round of jumps, or maybe a swim to the dock?” He says it with an almost desperate cheerfulness, trying to regain your attention, trying to keep the moment light.

Trevor and Luke, sensing the tension, start bantering about who would be the fastest swimmer, their playful arguments distracting you all for a moment, lightening the mood just enough.

────୨ৎ────

The night air was crisp as laughter and the crackling of the fire filled the space around the lake house. The lake is quiet behind you, a dark, glassy surface reflecting only starlight. You were settled in a lawn chair, leaning back, watching as Trevor dramatically recounted a story about when you nearly crashed his car.

You could feel his eyes on you, searching for a shared smile, hoping to catch your gaze even as he chuckled at Trevor’s theatrics. Every so often, he'd lean in, commenting with a low murmur meant only for you. He’d even offered you his hoodie earlier, though the night wasn’t nearly cold enough to need it. It was endearing, if not a bit overeager. Yet, despite the obvious attention from him, your focus kept drifting across the fire.

Quinn sat across the flames from you, leaning back in an Adirondack chair. His attention was barely on the story, barely laughing with the others as you had been. Every now and then you’d catch his eyes flicker your way, lingering on you just long enough to send a thrill through your chest. Your stomach tightened with a quiet anticipation each time, though as quickly as the moment arrived, it vanished. Quinn’s gaze would shift, his attention lost somewhere in the darkness beyond the flames, leaving you wondering if you’d only imagined it.

As Trevor finally wrapped up his tale with an exaggerated flourish, the group’s laughter rang out again, filling the quiet night. You shifted in your chair, stealing a glance across the fire to see Quinn looking your way again, his expression unreadable in the dancing light. The firelight cast soft shadows over his face, illuminating his quiet intensity—a contrast to Jack’s open interest. And just as quickly as his eyes met yours, he looked away, his focus deliberately elsewhere, leaving you feeling a subtle ache of frustration.

Jack nudged your arm gently, his voice breaking the spell. “Hey, want to grab a drink or something? I think I saw some ciders in the cooler on the porch.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you replied, a small smile curving your lips as you pushed yourself up to join him.

You could feel the weight of Quinn’s gaze on you, or maybe it was just wishful thinking. As you walked toward the porch with Jack, a pang of prickling guilt settled over you, leaving a heavy shadow with every step. Jack was wonderful — funny, kind-hearted, and clearly eager to spend time with you. And yet, there was an emptiness in each smile you returned to him, a hollowness you couldn’t ignore. You tried to shake it off, reminding yourself to appreciate his warmth and interest. But you couldn’t deny it. There was no spark, no unspoken gravity that pulled you toward him.

The two of you reached the porch, Jack handing you a cold can from the cooler, his fingers brushing yours briefly. He shot you a quick grin, the kind that seemed to hold a hundred different things he wanted to say. But the look in his eyes—the hopefulness, the eagerness—only tightened the knot in your chest.

Jack took a sip of his drink, leaning casually against the porch railing, his gaze still on you. “It’s nice here at night, isn’t it?” His tone was light, but there was an unmistakable softness to his voice, as though he wanted nothing more than to keep this moment between just the two of you.

“Yeah, it really is,” you agreed, looking out at the lake rather than meeting his eyes. “It’s peaceful.”

Jack’s voice was quieter when he spoke this time like he was mulling something over. “You know, it’s been great having you up here. I mean…I’m glad Z brought you here.” he said softly, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a vulnerability there, one that made you want to reassure him, to ease the sting of your own uncertainty.

You wanted to tell him you felt the same, that you were excited, that his attention filled you with butterflies. But it didn’t. Not the way Quinn’s lingering gaze did, not in the way his silence could reach across the fire and wrap around you more tightly than any words Jack could offer.

And Jack could sense it. You could see it in the way his gaze fell just a bit, in the way he seemed to retreat into himself, trying to figure out where he’d lost you. A soft, sinking guilt bubbled up, but before you could say anything, he cleared his throat and looked at you, trying to keep the mood light.

“Should we head back?” he asked, giving you a small smile that tried to mask the disappointment behind his eyes.

You nodded, and as you followed him back toward the fire, your eyes drifted back to Quinn. Why did he have to make it so complicated? Jack was there, warm and steady, giving you his full attention, yet your heart kept tugging you toward Quinn — Quinn, who never gave you more than half-glances and unspoken hints. It was as though he knew the effect he had on you but chose to keep you guessing, leaving you in this restless, uncertain state. And every time he looked away, your chest would ache with a longing that you couldn’t shake, no matter how hard you tried.

You felt like you were making it up in your head. You felt like all of this was just concocted by your brain, a made-up situation. But then you’d think back to the nights when it was just the two of you, sitting across from one another on the porch, finding bits of commonality, causing you to talk for hours.

It was during those quiet nights, with only the soft hum of the lake and the occasional call of night birds, that the two of you would sit just a little closer, voices lowered as if sharing secrets with the stars. He’d be calm, reserved, but there’d always be a hint of a smile when you teased him about his stoic nature, a glint in his eyes when he’d challenge you back. It was in these moments that your doubts faded, that all the confusion seemed worth it.

But then the sun would rise again, and Quinn’s indifference would come back like the morning mist, blanketing any closeness you thought you’d found. The spark that seemed so real under the cover of night would dim, replaced by his guarded demeanor and quiet aloofness. It was maddening, this cycle of near-closeness followed by a cool retreat. He’d show you just enough to make you wonder, to keep you holding onto the memory of his quiet smile and that soft look in his eyes.

As you and Jack rejoined the group, you settled back into your chair, glancing across the fire toward Quinn once more. He was looking down, a hand idly fiddling with the edge of his sweater. There was something vulnerable about him in that moment, something that made you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he felt the same hesitation and uncertainty. You wanted to bridge that gap, to ask him if he ever felt the same tug, the same strange pull that made every shared glance linger in your mind.

But before you could even entertain the idea, Jack’s hand brushed your shoulder, pulling your attention back to him. He was smiling, his gaze as steady and warm as ever, making you wish you could return it with the same openness.

“Hey, you okay?” Jack asked, concern lacing his voice. You hadn’t realized the way you were chewing on your lip, or the way your brow was furrowed ever so slightly.

You nodded, giving him a soft smile that you hoped looked genuine. “Yeah, just…lost in thought, I guess.”

But as you said it, your gaze slipped across the fire once more, finding Quinn’s eyes fixed on you with that familiar, unreadable intensity. And for a fleeting second, you thought you saw a softness there, a hint of something deeper. It vanished just as quickly, but that one look was enough. It was enough to make you cast away the doubt that lingered in your mind, to dismiss the thought that this was all in your head.

The night dragged on, punctuated by laughter and more ridiculous storytelling from Trevor. Gradually, one by one, everyone began to call it a night. Luke was the first to slip away, yawning as he muttered something about wanting to have an early workout, clapping Trevor on the shoulder before heading inside. Trevor followed soon after, stretching with exaggerated laziness before flashing a grin and winking at you. “Don’t get into too much trouble out here,” he teased, earning a playful eye-roll from you.

Finally, it was just you, Jack, and Quinn. Jack was lingering, his eyes occasionally drifting to you with a look that hinted at something he wanted to say but couldn’t quite bring himself to voice. He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat as he looked at you, then glanced over at Quinn.

"Alright, I guess I’ll head in, too," Jack finally said, his tone reluctant. His gaze lingered on you for just a beat too long, as though he wanted you to ask him to stay or tell him that you would head up with him. But you didn’t, and after a quiet sigh, he nodded, gave Quinn a brief glance, then turned and headed inside, the screen door shutting softly behind him.

And then it was just the two of you.

The quiet stretched between you and Quinn, thick and tense, as the night air settled into a stillness that seemed to wrap around you both. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of the trees, and it was painfully quiet, each unspoken word between you two heavy with meaning. You could feel his presence, magnetic and steady, even across the fire. Finally, after a moment that felt like an eternity, you drew a deep breath and decided to speak.

“Quinn, can we talk?” Your voice was steady, but just barely. Quinn’s eyes finally locked with yours for the first time since before everyone began to filter to bed. Quinn nodded after a couple of seconds, giving you the silence to continue.

“I don’t know what’s going on between us,” you said softly. “But… fuck, I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s driving me crazy. I need to know if it’s all just in my head or if you feel it too. Because if there’s a reason I feel this way… I need to know.”

You trailed off, heart hammering against your ribcage as the words hung in the air between you. For a moment, he didn’t respond, his expression unreadable, his face softened by the glow of the firelight. Then, with a sigh, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he stared into the flames. His silence was torture, each passing second pulling you deeper into a pit of anxiety and frustration.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady, as if he’d rehearsed this response in his mind countless times. “It’s not in your head,” he admitted, his gaze flickering up to meet yours. “There’s something here, between us. I feel it too.”

The words sent a rush of relief and hope through you, a spark that reignited all those moments spent wondering and waiting for some kind of sign. A soft smile spread across your face, the edges of your doubt finally beginning to soften. But then, his expression shifted, the corners of his mouth tightening as he looked away, eyes fixed on the shadows just beyond the firelight.

“But…” His voice was barely a whisper, rough around the edges. “It can’t go anywhere. Not with Jack. He’s…he’s into you.” He looked back at you, the regret in his eyes evident, a pain mirrored in your own chest. “I can’t do that to him.”

His words were like a punch to the gut, and the warmth of the fire suddenly felt distant, fading into a cold, empty ache spreading through your chest. You hadn’t expected it to hurt this much, hadn’t realized how much you’d been hoping he’d say the opposite, that he’d fight for whatever was happening between you.

You dropped your gaze, feeling foolish, vulnerable, exposed. “So that’s it? We just… pretend this doesn’t exist?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Like nothing’s been happening all this time?”

Quinn’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his expression pained. “I don’t want to pretend. But I can’t… I won’t hurt him, not like that. He’s my brother.” He hesitated, his voice cracking slightly. “And he really cares about you.”

You swallowed hard. It felt ridiculous—being here, feeling so foolishly hopeful, only to be left with a hollow ache and a fractured connection that couldn’t ever be more. Part of you wanted to yell at him for leading you on, for those late-night conversations and stolen glances, for every unspoken word that now felt like a cruel joke.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I wish it could be different.”

The words left you hollow. Part of you wanted to fight, to tell him that what you felt couldn’t just be ignored, but another part — the part that knew him and understood his loyalty — couldn’t bring yourself to ask him to choose you over his brother. Not when you saw the conflict in his eyes, the pain that mirrored your own.

“Fine,” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. You stood up, the cool night air prickling your skin as you walked away from the fire, leaving him there in silence. You didn’t look back. It felt like your chest was filled with broken glass, each breath painful, as you made your way back to the house.

Inside, the stillness was almost suffocating. The others had already gone to bed, and the darkened living room felt cold and empty, mirroring the ache in your heart. You climbed the stairs to your room, shutting the door softly behind you as you sank onto the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall. A mix of anger and sadness filled you. You were mad at Quinn, for drawing you in only to push you away; mad at Jack, for being in the way even if he hadn’t meant to be; mad at Trevor, for ever convincing you to come here; and, perhaps most of all, mad at yourself, for letting your heart hope for something that could never be.

The next morning, a heavy quiet blanketed the lake house. You moved through the motions of breakfast with the others, but your thoughts felt distant, lost somewhere between the memories of last night and the weight of Quinn’s words. The morning was made slightly easier by the absence of Quinn who you were told went into the town early that morning to run errands and hit the gym. The guys bantered and talked about heading out on the boat, planning an afternoon on the lake, but you could only muster half-hearted nods and polite smiles. It was hard to focus, every small sound—the clinking of mugs, the soft scrape of a chair—only intensifying the ache you couldn’t shake.

Excusing yourself, you slipped away before anyone could ask questions, making your way down to the dock. The air was cool, a gentle breeze rippling across the lake's surface, and you sat at the edge, feet dangling above the water. You were still in your sleep outfit, not exactly pyjamas, but rather a comfy oversized hoodie and a pair of mens boxers. The familiar scent of pine and fresh earth surrounded you, but even the peaceful view couldn’t ease the storm of emotions inside.

The quiet was soon broken by the sound of footsteps approaching, and you didn’t need to look to know it was Jack. You felt him sit beside you, his presence warm and grounding. For a moment, he didn’t say anything — just let the silence settle between you both, as though he was waiting for you to be ready.

Finally, he cleared his throat, glancing sideways at you. “You okay this morning? You’ve been… quiet,” he said softly, his voice tentative, as if he were stepping carefully around broken glass. “Distant.”

You swallowed, bracing yourself as you met his gaze. His eyes were filled with genuine concern, a softness that only made this harder. “Yeah,” you murmured, looking back out at the lake. “Guess I just needed some space.”

Jack nodded, though he didn’t seem convinced. His fingers drummed nervously on the edge of the dock, and after a beat, he spoke again, his tone thoughtful, almost nostalgic.

“You know,” he began, eyes cast down at the water, “when Trevor told me he was bringing a friend this summer, he was so sure we’d hit it off. He kept going on about how you and I would be perfect for each other, that we’d get along great.” A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I remember feeling this weird, excited energy like… maybe he was right, you know? Maybe I was going to meet someone special.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat as he continued, his voice carrying a warmth that was both comforting and deeply bittersweet.

“And when you got here…” He hesitated, his eyes meeting yours, as if to gauge your reaction. “I don’t know, it just… felt easy, from the start. Like we’d known each other forever. I started to feel like maybe Trevor had been onto something.” He gave a soft laugh, but there was no humor in it, just the weight of unspoken feelings.

“Things felt really good between us, and I thought you felt it too,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “So I started to get my hopes up—thinking maybe this was the start of something real.”

You winced, guilt gnawing at you. “Jack… I’m so sorry,” you said, your voice shaky. “I didn’t mean to lead you on, truly. I think you’re amazing. From the bottom of my heart, I just… I mean there’s gotta be some sort of spell this fucking house puts me under because I would be insane otherwise to not like you! You… you’re so perfect that any other girl would be scremaing at me, trying to claw my eyes out for not appreciating you. But… I just can’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Jack’s eyes softened, a mix of sadness and resignation settling in them. He looked down, his fingers still drumming but more slowly now, as if grounding himself. After a moment, he took a deep breath and let it out, his shoulders sagging slightly.

“I get it,” he murmured, though his voice had an unmistakable crack in it. “I mean… I think I get it. You can’t force something that isn’t there, right?” He gave a sad smile, one that tried to mask the hurt but didn’t quite succeed.

He stared out at the water, his expression distant, like he was trying to piece together what had gone wrong, or maybe just what he’d missed. A tense silence settled between you, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on the air around you. Jack cleared his throat, seeming to steel himself, his gaze searching your face as if looking for an answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked.

“Can I… can I just ask you one thing?” he said, voice barely above a whisper. His vulnerability in that moment was palpable, and you could feel your heart pounding, bracing yourself for what was coming.

You nodded, feeling your throat tighten.

“Do you… have feelings for Quinn?”

The words hung in the air, heavy and painful, and a part of you wished he hadn’t asked. But the look in his eyes told you he needed to know, that the uncertainty was gnawing at him just as much as the truth might.

Slowly, you nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek as you whispered, “Yes.”

A heavy silence fell between you, and Jack seemed to shrink a little, his shoulders slumping as he took it in. Jack’s gaze fixed on the lake, and for a long moment, he said nothing. You could see the effort it took for him to keep his expression neutral, to keep his emotions tightly bound. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke.

“So, you… you and Quinn. Is there… anything actually happening between you two?” He glanced at you, a flicker of something raw in his eyes — hope, maybe, or just the need to understand.

You shook your head, offering a small, bittersweet smile. “No, Jack. We’re… we’re not together. We won’t be.”

He looked at you, brow furrowed. “Why not?” he asked softly, his confusion obvious. “If you feel that way about him, why wouldn’t you try?”

You took a shaky breath, the words catching in your throat. “Because Quinn… Quinn’s too good of a brother. He’d never go for me because of you… and because of what he knows you feel.”

Jack blinked, his brow furrowing as he took in your words. “Wait—what does that mean? Because of me?” he asked, his voice laced with confusion. His gaze softened, and you could see he was fighting to keep his tone steady, like he was trying not to hope.

You sighed, feeling a bittersweet ache settle in your chest. “Quinn told me he could never be with me because he knows how you feel. He doesn’t want to hurt you, Jack.”

Jack’s jaw clenched, a flicker of frustration flashing across his face. “So… let me get this straight,” he muttered, almost incredulously. “He’s not doing anything about how he feels—because of me?”

You nodded, and Jack fell silent, staring down at his hands, which had stopped drumming and were now clenched tightly in his lap. He seemed deep in thought, his brows furrowed as he processed what you’d just told him. The lake was quiet around you, the stillness broken only by the occasional ripple of water.

For a long time, Jack didn't say anything, just stared down at the water, his brows drawn together. You could almost feel the weight of his thoughts, the way he was wrestling with everything that had just been laid out. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, raw.

“So he… he cares enough to stay away,” Jack said slowly, the words laced with a sadness that felt almost like admiration. “That's… just like him.” He took a deep breath, forcing a small, sad smile. “I wish things were different. I wish we could just rewind, go back to the start of summer and… and pretend this never happened.”

You swallowed hard, his words striking a chord deep within you. “Me too,” you whispered, eyes burning with unshed tears. “I never wanted any of this to happen, Jack. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you.”

Jack looked over at you, his expression softening, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of the easy, unburdened friendship you’d had in the beginning. “I know,” he murmured. “You’re not the kind of person who’d do this on purpose. It’s just… life, I guess. It’s complicated, ‘n messy as hell. And… maybe Trevor was right. We do get along. Just… maybe not in the way he thought we would.”

He smiled, a genuine one this time, though tinged with a sadness he couldn’t hide. “Maybe someday… I won’t feel this way,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible above the soft lapping of the lake against the dock. “But for now… I think I just need a little space. Time, maybe.”

You nodded, understanding that this was what he needed, even if it hurt to hear. “I get it, Jack. I do.”

Jack gave a nod, his gaze returning to the water, the weight of unspoken words settling over the two of you. In the next moment, he reached over and gave your hand a small squeeze—a quiet truce, an understanding. Then he stood, brushing off his shorts and glancing back at the house.

“I’ll be up at the house for a bit,” he murmured, the distance in his tone unmistakable. With that, he turned and walked back up the dock, his footsteps slow and heavy.

In the following days, there was a noticeable shift in the air; everyone felt it, though no one dared to name it. Conversations were stilted, laughter felt forced, and even the once-lively dinners had become quiet affairs, each of you treading carefully as if one wrong word might shatter the fragile peace that held you all together. Jack avoided you and Quinn as much as he could, lingering at the edge of group activities, his usual easygoing energy replaced by something more closed off, guarded.

Quinn, for his part, kept his distance too, his usual calm presence clouded by an unspoken tension. It was as if he knew that the delicate line he was walking might snap at any moment, sending everything spiraling out of control.

You couldn't ignore the heaviness that had settled over the house, a tangible sense of tension that made everything feel off-kilter. As much as you'd wanted this summer to be an escape, it had become the very opposite — a painful reminder of all the ways things could go wrong.

That evening, after everyone had gone to bed, you found yourself wide awake, thoughts racing. The decision took shape slowly, a reluctant resolve that you couldn’t shake. You needed to leave. Staying here, caught between the fractured pieces of what had been and what could never be, was too much to bear. The thought of facing both brothers day after day, watching Jack’s guarded smiles and Quinn’s restrained distance—it was too much. They deserved space, and, you realized, so did you.

With a deep breath, you grabbed your phone and booked a flight out for two days later, the earliest you could manage. You barely slept, running through potential conversations in your mind, eventually deciding you were only going to tell Trevor and slip out quietly, not wanting to cause anymore issues.

You forced yourself to push through the pain and awkwardness during the two remaining days until you would be returning back to California. As the days inched closer to your departure, the weight of unspoken words grew heavier, settling into every corner of the lake house. You caught glimpses of Jack, his face turning away when he thought no one was watching as if even looking at you and Quinn felt like reopening an unhealed wound. Quinn’s glances were no less fraught, though his were filled with a wistful restraint, as if he was already mourning the loss of something that had barely even begun.

The dinners, once filled with laughter, now passed in subdued tones, each person more focused on their plate than the conversation. You found yourself counting down the days and hours, conflicted between the need to escape the tension and the ache of leaving it all behind. In those last two days, you kept reminding yourself that soon, you’d be on a plane back to California, back to your own life — away from Jack’s pained looks and Quinn’s longing stares.

Your final day there, you packed your belongs up quickly, hoping Trevor would buy your excuse of not wanting to miss your flight as a good reason for him to take you to the airport early, and not because you couldn’t bear to spend one more hour in this suffocating oasis. Everyone else was lounging by the water, with the exception of Jack who lingered in the kitchen, opting to do the dishes rather than be around the others. He was lost in thought when he heard the patio door slide open and shut, the sound of bare feet padding against the hardwood. He turned to the entrance of the kitchen, seeing Quinn wearing his boardshorts and a slightly guarded look.

Quinn stopped at the threshold, eyes flicking briefly to Jack’s hands as he scrubbed the dishes. They were tense, knuckles white around the plate he held, and the silence between them was palpable and heavy. Jack set down the dish with a clatter, bracing himself on the edge of the sink, not looking at Quinn. Jack didn’t give Quinn time to speak. The words erupted from him, fueled by everything he’d been holding back.

“Do you even understand what you’re doing?” Jack’s voice was low and seething, barely contained. He didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t dare let Quinn get a word in. “You’re hurting her, Quinn. A perfectly nice girl, who came here not looking for this mess but got dragged into it anyway. And the worst part is, you know it. You know it, and you’re still just… sitting back like a damn martyr, thinking that by staying distant, you’re somehow making it easier for everyone. That by holding back, you’re sparing her, sparing me.”

Jack’s words cut through the quiet, sharper than the silence that had settled in the house over the past days. The vulnerability in his tone was raw, scraping against Quinn’s stoic expression. Quinn shifted uncomfortably but didn’t interrupt; he only looked at Jack, his gaze unwavering.

“And you know what? I kind of hate you for it,” Jack continued, voice unsteady. He turned his head just enough for Quinn to catch the anger, the hurt in his eyes. “I hate that you waltzed in and just took her from me without even trying. And, yeah, maybe that’s selfish. Maybe I never really had a chance, but she was still there, and I was trying. I was there, damn it!”

Quinn finally took a step forward, but Jack cut him off again, his hands clenching at the counter. “And I hate you for pretending like you’re doing the right thing by telling her nothing will happen. You act like you’re some noble saint by ‘staying away,’ but it’s a lie, Quinn. It’s a lie, and we both know it. You’re holding back because you’re scared — scared to go after what you really want, and in the end, you’re just making it worse for everyone. For her. For me.”

Jack’s voice wavered, then cracked, as he finally fell silent, chest heaving from the force of his confession. The words had cost him, as if each syllable had drawn blood. The only sound in the room was the dripping of the faucet, each drop amplifying the tension between them.

Quinn stayed quiet for a long moment, his gaze steady as he absorbed every word. He studied Jack, weighing something unspoken. “Would you hate me if I went for her, then?” His tone was gentle, almost hesitant, a softness that Jack hadn’t been prepared for.

Jack’s jaw tightened. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I probably would.” He ran a hand through his hair, a bitter laugh escaping him. “I mean I hate you right now for making her feel the way she does. But it shouldn’t matter, Quinn. Not if you two… if you actually care about each other.” Jack’s voice faltered, breaking under the weight of his own honesty. “Look, I’ll get over it. In time. But don’t waste what could be something good just because you’re trying to spare everyone. It’s pointless, and it’s selfish. You need to get to her before it’s too late.”

Quinn could feel Jack’s anger and pain, an emotion so raw and tangled it clawed at the air between them. For a second, Quinn thought of how different things could have been if he had stayed on the sidelines, if he hadn’t let himself get close to you. But as Jack’s gaze softened, an odd understanding settled between them. Jack wasn’t letting go easily, but he was letting go.

Jack’s shoulders slumped, exhausted, as he ran a hand over his face. “She’s leaving today, you know?” he said to Quinn, a look of surprise appearing on his face. “Trev told me last night she booked her flight out for this afternoon.”

Quinn’s face fell, and the guarded look faded, replaced with something dangerously close to panic. He hadn’t known—hadn’t expected that this was it. That today was the end.

“She’s leaving?” Quinn asked, Jack nodding. “Why didn’t she say anything? W-why is she leaving?”

“Because why would she stay?” Jack said. “She’s going to protect herself. She’s not gonna stay here, hoping for something that won’t happen. She’s too smart for that.”

The realization struck Quinn like a punch to the gut, leaving him breathless. Jack's words echoed in his mind, each one sharper than the last. She’s leaving. Of course, she would. She wasn’t the type to hang around hoping for some half-hearted promise or for Quinn to finally decide what he wanted. She deserved so much more than waiting for him to get his act together.

Jack's voice softened, pulling him back to the present. "Quinn, it’s not too late. She hasn’t left yet. If you really care about her, don’t let her go like this."

Quinn’s gaze faltered, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his expression. Could he really undo the damage he’d done by staying away? Could he find the words to convince her that, despite his silence, he’d felt everything just as deeply as she had?

A heavy silence followed before Quinn found his voice. “What… what should I say to her?”

Jack shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You really think I’m giving you advice on how to get the girl I wanted?”

Quinn’s face softened in a rare, grateful smile. “Fair enough.” He hesitated, then turned, steeling himself as he left the kitchen, leaving Jack to his own fractured thoughts.

Quinn climbed the stairs two at a time, his pulse racing with every step, anticipation and fear warring within him. As he reached the top, he saw Trevor just exiting your room. Trevor paused, giving Quinn a look that held no small amount of concern.

“I don’t know what went down between you three,” Trevor said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “But I care about her, and I don’t like seeing her like this. You going to fix whatever mess this is?”

Quinn’s chest tightened. He knew Trevor had been close to you, learning this summer just how much of a big brother figure he was to you. He couldn’t fault him for looking out for you.

“I’m going to fix it,” Quinn said, his voice quiet but firm. He met Trevor’s gaze, hoping to communicate the sincerity in his words. “I have to.”

Trevor didn’t say anything else, but he gave Quinn a long, steady look, as though weighing whether to believe him. Then he gave a nod and shifted your duffle bag, stepping aside to let Quinn pass. With a final glance at Trevor, Quinn walked to your door, his heart racing. Quinn stood outside your door for a moment, his hand hovering above the doorknob. He knew what he needed to say, but a part of him feared that the damage was already done. Bracing himself, he knocked gently before pushing the door open.

You were standing by the window, your zipped duffle bag sitting on your bed. Your back was to the door when Quinn entered, and for a moment, he almost turned around, the words caught in his throat. But then you turned, your eyes meeting his.

“Are you really going?” Quinn asked, his voice quiet and strained.

You nodded, stepping away from the window and closer to Quinn. “I think it’s best. This whole summer has just… it’s too much, Quinn. I didn’t come here expecting any of this, and now I just feel… caught. And I can’t keep feeling this way.”

Quinn swallowed, his gaze never leaving yours. He looked as though he was battling something heavy, words lingering on his lips, waiting to escape. He stepped forward, close enough that you could see the faint circles under his eyes, the fatigue that seemed to pull at his features.

“I didn’t expect any of this either,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “And I get it — you’re right. I hurt you. I know that. I thought… I thought if I kept my distance, it would somehow make it easier for everyone. That maybe you'd move on from this — move on from me, and be with Jack. I thought it would hurt less.”

You held his gaze, your voice low but unwavering. “Do you have any idea what that did to me, Quinn? All summer, feeling this… this connection between us, and thinking that I had to be imagining it because you couldn’t even look at me. And you’re saying you did that on purpose? To protect me?” Your voice trembled. “That’s not protecting me. That’s running away.”

Quinn took a shaky breath, stepping closer, his expression taut with regret. “I know I messed up. I was spineless and I should have told you the truth sooner.” Quinn said, bowing his head briefly before forcing himself to look up at your hurt eyes. “I told myself that it was better this way, but all I was doing was lying to myself. Because every time I saw you… every time I heard your laugh, or watched you talk to Jack, or caught you looking at me — I couldn’t breathe.”

Quinn took one last step forward, less than a foot away from you. He raised his hand to reach you, fingertips grazing your arm gently, as if he feared you might pull away. “But I care about you, more than I thought possible. And I was afraid of that. Afraid of hurting Jack, afraid of hurting you… and afraid of wanting you this much.” He swallowed, his voice growing rough. “But I can’t let you leave without knowing how I feel. I want to be with you I — I need to be with you.”

Your breath hitched, the confession settling over you like a warm, crushing weight. This was what you’d wanted, but it also brought a whirlwind of conflicting emotions crashing down. You took a small step back, just enough to put some distance between you, needing space to gather your thoughts.

Quinn was saying everything you wanted to hear from the beginning. Laying his feelings bare, and exposing his heart in a way you hadn't expected from someone as reserved as him. It was like seeing a hidden part of him, one he’d kept carefully guarded. The vulnerability in his eyes made it clear that this was as terrifying for him as it was thrilling for you.

But in the back of your mind, Jack lingered, his hurt and disappointment woven into every stolen glance and quiet moment of the summer. The image of his face as he realized how you felt about Quinn was something you couldn’t shake. The memory clawed at you, guilt mixing with the longing Quinn’s words evoked.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear that,” you said, voice catching. “But Quinn… Jack — he tried so hard with me this summer, and I couldn’t give him what he wanted because of… well, because of you.” You hesitated, torn between the longing in Quinn’s eyes and the memory of Jack’s earnest, hopeful glances. “The last thing I wanted was to hurt him. And I feel like I’ve done enough damage by just… being here.”

Quinn’s gaze softened, his hand lingering just above your arm, hovering close as if he wasn’t ready to let you go. “I know,” he murmured. “I know it’s complicated. But I talked to Jack this morning. He told me… he told me to come up here and talk to you. To tell you how I felt. He wants you to be happy, and he knows that’s not with him. He’ll get over it.”

“Jack said that?” you whispered, barely able to believe it.

Quinn nodded, a slight smile tugging at his lips, though there was sadness in his eyes. “He might hate me for a while, and I can live with that. But he said I’d regret it if I let you go. And… he was right.”

His hand, warm and steady, traced down your arm, his fingers slipping around yours with a gentle firmness. The touch, gentle but insistent, sent a jolt through you. “I know I’ve messed up,” he murmured, voice barely a whisper. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll make it right. I want this, us… if you do too.”

You nodded, words escaping you as Quinn stepped even closer, his free hand lifting to gently cup your face. His thumb brushed against your cheek, and you could feel the slight tremor in his touch. He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, but you didn’t.

His lips barely brushed yours, soft and tentative. Your breath mingled together briefly before your lips locked together. He lingered for a heartbeat, savoring the closeness as if he, too, couldn’t believe this was real. Then, with a surge of emotion, the kiss deepened, all the restraint and hesitation of the summer dissolving as his hand rose to cradle your cheek, holding you to him as though afraid you might disappear.

His stubble that had grown out over the last couple weeks of summer scraped along your jaw and chin, leaving a faint burn that only added to the rush of sensation.

When you pulled back, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that since the day you got here,” he murmured, a hint of relief in his voice.

You giggled, staying close and feeling his heartbeat echoing against yours. The silence that followed was thick, but it was different now — no longer tense or uncertain like it had been for most of the summer. It felt as though the weight had been lifted from both of your shoulders.

But even in that moment, you knew the reality of what this would mean—for Jack, for Quinn, and for yourself. There was a part of you that still ached, remembering Jack’s quiet disappointment and knowing it would take time to heal the wounds this summer had left behind.

You swallowed hard, raising a hand to Quinns face and brushing aside his dark locks that fell over his eyes. “I still think I need to go,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not because I don’t want this. I do. But I think both of you need time, and maybe I do too. To let everything settle.”

Quinn nodded, understanding settling over his expression. “I get it,” he replied, taking your hand in his and giving your palm a soft kiss. “I’ll be here when you’re ready. Take all the time you need.”

Quinn let you slip from his arms, his heart squeezing as he watched you grab your bag and exit the room. As you descended the stairs with your duffle bag slung over your shoulder, you saw Jack waiting near the door. His expression softened as you approached, a bittersweet smile crossing his face.

“So, this is it?” he asked, his voice gentle but with an undercurrent of acceptance.

You nodded. “Yeah, I think it’s best. Thank you, Jack. For understanding. And… for everything.”

Jack gave a short nod, his gaze momentarily flickering towards the stairs where Quinn had stopped to watch from a distance. He returned his gaze to you and managed a small, sincere smile. “Go live your life. I wish you and Quinn all the best.”

You hugged him, both of you holding on just a second longer than necessary. When you pulled back, you could see the mix of emotions in his eyes, but there was a sense of peace there too. He’d let go, not because it didn’t hurt, but because he genuinely wanted you to be happy. You felt your heart swell, gratitude mixing with the faint sting of regret for the friendship that would never quite be the same. But Jack’s words lifted the weight off your shoulders, letting you and Quinn move forward.

With a final look, you stepped outside, Trevor waiting to drive you to the airport, his brow furrowed in confusion at the way you suddenly had pep in your step, a small smile present on your lips that had been missing for weeks. As the car pulled away, you stole one last glance at the lake house, catching a glimpse of Quinn watching you from the porch. He raised a hand in a small wave, and you returned it, a soft smile on your lips.

This summer hadn’t turned out anything like you’d expected.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #new jersey devils #vancouver canucks #`✦ˑ ✒️ 𓂃⊹ my works #qh43 #jh86

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hcneymooners · 2 months ago

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dad’s best friend ambessa perhaps ..? :3 i love ur age gap fics ur so talented

⋆ come, and be my baby.

dad's best friend!ambessa x f!reader. men & minors dni. synopsis: you've always been a troubled, searching girl. ambessa, your father's long-time best friend, is your self-ordained solution. cw: age difference, older woman/younger woman, reader is implied to be between 22-24, emotional hurt/comfort, dom/sub, dom!ambessa, sub!reader, you're a little bit of a conniving bitch still love you tho, unhealthy relationship dynamics, codependency, slight emotional manipulation, listen you had to lock in, non-sexual intimacy, pleasure dom!ambessa, rough body play, manhandling, pet names, lesbian sex, dildos, vaginal sex, implied penetrative sex, implied strapping, oral fixation (ambessa), praise kink, mommy kink (specifically mama), implied exhibitionism, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, begging, spanking, impact play, face sitting, desk sex, you guys are definitely freaks but you love love love each other.

notes: hi, honey baby. this might be the most erotic questionable thing i've ever written. i hope you're happy with it. i went a little overboard and a bit non-conventional with the trope. i adore you & thank you for requesting, mami.

two things in this world reigned absolute: that you were glad your life would only be lived once, for you couldn't do this again, and that you were ambessa medarda's favorite girl.

the medardas were a family heavy with conflict, and perhaps that's why the matriarch and your father were best friends. they both were volatile people, sometimes prone to cruelty, with soft spots for certain people that were darkened with rot at the edges—perfumed with the sweet notes of their rage.

you were both of their favorites, and therefore, when your parents got divorced, you'd acted through the narrow scope of a confused and aching little girl and chose your father. once you'd shed that naive nature, you traced your way back to your mother in secrecy. you indulged in hushed phone calls in the middle of the night, timing your exits from your room with the fading beat of your father's boots as you left.

every month, she promised to get you.

the glass would fog with your breath as you waited in that tall, flaking phone booth, each passing car's headlights casting long shadows across your face. you memorized every crack in the booth's floor, every water stain on its ceiling, until they became as familiar as your own disappointment.

you wore the same outfit: thick, wool tights in burgundy tucked under the gleaming straps of your mary janes and layered underneath the dark denim of your favorite jeans. you cradled yourself into a black turtleneck, your hair tamed into two plaits that rested against your neck underneath the fabric. your eyes would be wide and searching, one hand gripping the curved handle of your brown leather suitcase and the other shaking around your well-loved copy of prozac nation.

she never came, but you showed up every time.

one night, a maserati did skate up to that ancient meeting spot, and you straightened from where you'd been dozing standing up. an overly tinted window rolled down, and you were met with the strong gaze of ambessa medarda, whom you hadn't seen since your early days. you didn't remember much, just yellow-tinged memories of being spoiled by her and being picked up and tossed into the bright sky above the farm she owned.

she must've moved back.

at first, she said nothing, just cataloged your most recent iteration of your "going with my mother" outfit and worked her jaw. finally, she leaned over and popped open the door before leaning back and letting you make the choice. embarrassed and teetering on the edge of emotional collapse, you slid in and shut down as she pulled away. this was how you met her again. seventeen and sobbing, emotionally wrought and disappointed from all angles. you probably came off unbearably young, dreamy, and unprepared for the challenges of real life.

it was only later that ambessa revealed that her first thought was that you needed a mother, that you needed her. that you were a girl abandoned and fighting your best against the more experienced hands of life.

⋅˚₊‧ 🕯୨୧ 🦪 ‧₊˚ ⋅

from then on you were her newest daughter, until you weren't. you noticed how 'miss' became 'dear' became 'darling,' each new endearment a step closer across the chasm between you. the way she said your name changed too, softening at the edges like butter left in sunlight.

by nineteen, you were practically sequestered to her house by your personal desires, curling at her hip as you grew into yourself. even now at an older age—still far younger than her—you came home from university only to lay all of your belongings in the warm wood of your makeshift bedroom (the guestroom, really). she taught you to appreciate aged whiskey, watching with amusement as you struggled not to grimace at the burn.

"small sips, little one," she'd say, her hand warm against your lower back.

you learned to love the taste, if only because it meant sharing these quiet moments in her study, the leather of her armchair creaking as she leaned forward to pour you another finger's worth.

you and mel even developed a soft friendship that lessened the tension between her and her mother, tall arguments tempered by the agreement that they would not aggravate your ptsd from the divorce days. sometimes you caught mel watching you both with worried eyes, but you'd grown tired of other people's concerns.

you'd rather have this - ambessa's fingers absently playing with your hair as she read reports, the way she automatically ordered your coffee exactly how you liked it, the subtle possessiveness in how she introduced you to her colleagues.

regardless, you knew that you and ambessa's relationship spun on an axis that could be labeled uncomfortably intimate, maybe even imbalanced. for all that everyone said, you couldn't find it in yourself to be concerned. you regarded her as all that you had, something that wouldn't leave.

she indulged you, kissing your forehead when she came in from a day at work or texting you about what replacements you had wanted for certain items on the grocery list. she rarely called you by your name, always coaxing you forward with firm, warm pet names. they were swollen with affection, a doting '(my) sweet girl', 'baby girl', or 'little one.'

your favorite one was invoked from a spontaneous trip to paris to meet an art collector she'd purchased from, only to return bearing handcrafted soaps and a penchant for calling you 'chouchou.' that stopped about two weeks later, but you wrote it down under your list of desired tattoos. what didn't stop was the way she'd buy authentic silken scarves to tie around your neck with careful precision, her fingers brushing against your pulse point in a way that sent you shivering.

the shift was gradual, like watching shadows lengthen at sunset. one evening, as thunder rolled outside and rain lashed against the windows of her study, she pulled you closer than usual. ambessa’s fingers traced patterns on your skin as she read, and when you tilted your head back to look at her, she met your gaze with an intensity that made your breath catch. the thunder cracked again and the peeking champagne of your bra strap slipped down your arm. still, neither of you moved.

the moment was eventually broken by mel’s surprise of coming home for the weekend. you pulled yourself upright, intending to put together a small plate for her. before you could leave, ambessa strolled up behind you and adjusted the strap, so that it was firm and held tight to the delicate bones of your shoulder.

for a moment, you thought you’d felt her lips right beside it.

⋅˚₊‧ 🕯୨୧ 🦪 ‧₊˚ ⋅

"you're not a little girl anymore," she murmured one night, weeks later, her voice carrying the weight of aged whiskey and unspoken promises.

you were curled in your usual spot beside her, but everything felt different - charged with an electricity that made your skin prickle. you couldn't remember when the maternal comfort of her touch had transformed into something more, but you knew there was no going back.

"i haven't been for a while," you replied, your voice steady despite the way your heart hammered against your ribs. her hand found your chin, tilting your face up to meet her gaze, and you saw in her eyes the same hunger that had been growing in your own.

your fingers traced the rim of your whiskey glass, ice long since melted. the study had grown dark save for the amber glow of her desk lamp, catching the silver in her hair like moonlight on water.

you'd noticed her watching you more lately, her gaze heavy with something between concern and desire.

"you remind me of her sometimes," she said quietly, breaking the silence. "mel, when she was younger."

the comparison should have stung, but you knew better. you'd learned to read between her lines, to understand the weight she carried. you were not mel's replacement - you were something altogether different, more dangerous.

you set your glass down carefully, the crystal making a soft sound against the carpet.

"i'm not her," you said, voice steady as you rose from your chair. "i won't leave."

the words hung in the air between you, heavy with promise and threat. her laugh was low, throaty.

"no, baby girl. you're nothing like her at all, are you?"

she spoke the endearment deliberately this time, watching how it made you shiver. you'd both been playing this game for months - you with your calculated vulnerability, her with her careful restraint.

you moved to stand behind her chair, hands resting on her shoulders. through the silk of her blouse, you felt her tension, the way she stilled like a prey animal. but ambessa medarda was nobody's prey, and you both knew it.

"i need you," you murmured, the words leaden. you were trying not to sound as crazed as you felt . "and you need someone who needs you."

her hand came up to cover yours, her gold rings dense and cool against your skin.

"you're very clever," she said, something like pride coloring her voice. "i should send you away."

"but you won't." you pressed your lips to her temple, breathing in the scent of her perfume - something expensive and french. mango wood and black rose if you remembered correctly, discovered during your illicit investigations of her bedroom. "because you understand me better than anyone. because we're the same."

she turned then, catching your wrist in a grip that walked the line between gentle and controlling.

"the same?" her thumb pressed against your pulse point, counting out the rhythm of your wanting. "you're barely older than my daughter."

"age is just a number," you said, and then laughed at how young it made you sound. "no—that's not what i mean. what i mean is that we both know what we want. we both know how to take it."

the silence stretched between you like spun sugar, delicate and sweet. outside, leaves skittered across the gravel drive, and somewhere in the house, a clock chimed eleven. you watched emotions play across her face - desire, concern, resignation, hunger.

"if we do this," she said finally, her voice rough like aged bourbon, "there's no going back. no playing innocent. no running away when it gets hard."

you smiled, all teeth and triumph poorly disguised as submission.

"i told you," you said, sinking to your knees beside her chair, resting your head against her thigh like you had a hundred times before - but different now, charged with intent. "i'm not going anywhere."

her hand found your hair, nails scraping gently against your scalp.

"my clever, terrible girl," she murmured, and you could hear in her voice that she'd surrendered to this animal between you. "what am i going to do with you?"

you turned your face into her touch, lips brushing against her wrist where her heart copied yours, beat for beat.

"keep me," you said simply. "just keep me."

the study grew quieter still, the only sound was your shared breathing and the distant whisper of wind through bare branches. you'd won, you knew, but then you'd been winning since that first night in the maserati, since you'd looked at her with calculated tears and let her save you. you loved her - truly, deeply, with all the fierce possession of your young heart - but you'd learned from your mother's absence that love wasn't enough. you had to learn how to hold on to what you wanted.

and oh, how you wanted this - wanted her, with her silver-streaked hair and elegant hands and eyes that saw right through you and wanted you anyway.

her fingers tightened in your hair, and you looked up to find her watching you with an expression that made your breath catch. the lamp clicked off, and in the sudden darkness, you felt rather than saw her move. her hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing across your bottom lip.

"stand up," she commanded softly, and you did, letting her guide you until you were perched on the edge of her desk. the wood was cool against your thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat of her body as she stepped between your knees. "are you sure about this?"

your answer was to reach for her, fingers curling into the cotton of her blouse.

"i've never been more sure of anything."

the clock struck quarter past, and the last autumn leaves rattled against the window as she leaned down to kiss you, tasting of whiskey and an affection hard won.

you kissed back lazily, squeezing your thighs together as one of her hands came to direct you by the base of your neck. she slotted the two of you together, lips sliding and grasping at each other between soft inserts of tongue. your teeth seemed to buzz with unnamable energy as she leaned forwards, hands bracing around you, so close to cupping your ass.

you needed her touch, needed to know whether your fantasies had been well-conjured or only pathetic in their imaginings. you’d spent nights tucking your fingers into yourself, trembling quietly as you pictured the shape of her mouth and how it would fit over you.

as if reading your mind, ambessa firmly spread your legs apart with a forceful hand and came closer to you. you let out a weak moan as her teeth scraped your neck, a hand coming to press down on your stomach as if to see how much space she had to fill.

you were so immensely grateful for the flimsy structure of your sleep shorts, the fabric tugged easily down your legs by only one of her fingers. she used that same finger to feel out the shape of your clothed cunt, her throat trembling with a low sound of satisfaction.

you were wet and desperate, wrapping an arm around her broad shoulders so that you could grind against what was now two fingers.

ambessa moved your panties aside with no great effort, sliding a finger into your tight heat. gradually, she built a rhythm inside of you until you were bucking where she held you. after a minute, she slid it out and into her mouth.

“mmm,” she said consideringly. “my babygirl is so sweet for me.”

you’d swallow a boat of fucking blackberries if you had to, choke them down despite your allergies and sealing throat if that meant she’d taste you again.

“ambessa.

she laughed and you saw her eyes glittering in the dark, the light brown so bright with want they seemed gold. it was then you realized you’d never said her first name alone before, and she must’ve realized as well because her hand suddenly clenched around your throat.

“do you remember when you turned twenty and got drunk with those miscreants from the town over?” your mouth twitched at her avid disgust. she could be quite classist. you’d work on that. “you don’t because you practically drank your body weight, but i do. do you want to know why?”

you gasped out a ‘yes’ as she used her free hand to grope the peach of your ass before switching to thumbing at your pebbled nipples.

“i remember that birthday because you stumbled into my room and climbed into bed with me.” you felt dread rising. “you bumped against my back, like a little bunny, and worked yourself into quite the state. and the whole time you kept apologizing. you were saying ‘sorry, mama’, all slurred and saccharine, over and over till you finished.”

you were so hot with shame you could’ve set the house burning. she smiled, slow and teasing, as she pinched your nipple hard. you let out a high moan.

“i liked that.”

you were squirming now, two of her massive fingers back to stretch your pussy.

“i liked it very much. i had to make sure not to wake you as i fucked myself.”

your eyes widened, like two coins, as the words registered. ambessa laughed again and lowered to her knees, yanking you forward so your ass hung off the edge of the desk. she was still tall enough to tower over you, shadowing the sopping mess of your cunt.

with an annoyed roll of her eyes, she pulled her fingers away and reached behind you, returning with a pair of scissors. with two efficient cuts, your panties were hanging in tatters around your hips. your pussy was exposed in all of its pink glory and it pulled apart with a soft squelch as she pushed your thighs up and out, guiding your hands to hold them for her.

she tugged a hair tie from around her wrist, drawing her gray mass of curls into a loose bun. several strands fell around her face, but she only pushed them impatiently behind her ears. you slapped your hand around blindly, eventually flicking on the bright desk lamp.

“i want you to see me,” you breathed, and she cupped your cheek.

“i’ve always seen you.”

and with that, she went down. she started with a long, luxurious lick up your cunt, her lips suckling around your clit as she reached the top. you moaned loudly and dropped your hands from your thighs, raising them to tug and pinch at your tits. she kept your legs open by sliding the bulk of her back between them, sliding back down to lap at your hole.

for someone as rigid as ambessa could be, she was messy when eating you. she didn’t care to savor, not right now. she’d wanted you for what felt like forever, and you wanted to black out beneath her.

she further spread you open, thrusting her tongue into your heat and feeling you clench. back and forth she went, slobbering over the pink of you until you were tearing up. she suctioned her mouth over one of your lips, large and gleaming, pulling away so that it slid from her mouth with a wet extended ‘pop!’. you clutched at her head, rocking yourself into her unforgiving hold. she blew gently over your hole, watched as it fluttered.

“mama, please.”

tenderly, she grazed her teeth over your clit, soothing the sting with her tongue as she sank three fingers inside of you. ambessa fucked you hard and fast, your tits bouncing as you whimpered with a hand over your mouth. a hand came down like thunder on your ass, the crack hard and hot. you wailed and clutched at her, begging her to go faster, to mark you, to swallow you whole.

“there you are, baby girl. tell me what you need.”

“mama, wait—” you shuddered around her crooked fingers, the world turning white as your head grew hazy. “wait. mama.”

“hmm?”

you scrambled at her, pushing her until there was enough space to slide from where you’d settled at her wrist. wobbling, you turned on your hands and knees, pushing your ass up into her face and falling into a brutal arch.

“like this please.”

“anything for my girl,” ambessa said and you shook because you couldn’t see her face but you could feel her voice.

her fingers dove back into you, her mouth joining the effort. you were floating, only briefly aware of the consistent slaps to your ass through the pain ricocheting pleasantly through you. you pushed back, fucking yourself the way you wanted. she let you, steadying you when you began to lose rhythm.

“bessa, i can’t—i can’t see you,” you slurred and she hummed into your weeping pussy.

your stomach grew tighter and tighter, the world narrowing down to the way she slurped and worked into your cunt. you gripped the opposite edge of the desk, extending yourself as your orgasm began to boil over. quickly, ambessa swung herself under you and brought you down on her face. her arms flexed around your stomach, the corded muscle circling you as she moaned into your cunt.

the vibrations set you off. you felt like you were flying, like you were fucking free.

“oh shit, mama. fuuuuckkkk.”

your voice was unrecognizable to yourself, cracking and raspy. time stretched and winded. you knew your legs were shaking, that you’d squirted over her and yourself.

you didn’t know how, but ambessa was undressed now and rearranging you like a doll. you were back up on your knees, but she was draped over you with her heavy tits branding your skin with their warmth and weight. her hair was down and around you; it smelled like her shampoo, a curtain of coconut and cinnamon.

she bumped her hips against you, caught the silicone tip of a dildo again and again against your loose hole. you turned your head and opened your mouth like a baby bird so she could spit into it, stuff her fingers in.

she began to break into you, bullying your cunt into accepting her cock. you did what you always did. you pushed back and let her in.

you only ever gave her what she needed.

⋅˚₊‧ 🕯୨୧ 🦪 ‧₊˚ ⋅

morning light filtered through dense curtains, casting the bedroom in baby pink. you watched your rings catch the light as you stretched - the marquise diamond throwing prisms across egyptian cotton sheets, your simple gold band warm from sleep.

you'd chosen them together - ambessa insisting on the marquise cut for the engagement ring (something as unique as you, sweet girl) while you'd wanted the classic simplicity of the wedding band, a quiet echo of forever.

the bedroom remained your favorite place - all cream linens and dark wood, familiar as breathing. in the mornings, you could pretend time stood still, pressing chapped kisses against her strong bare arms in the quiet before the day began. sometimes you climbed on top of her, sunk as far as you could into the broad helm of her body.

despite the passing years, she remained your most fortified sanctuary.

"baby girl?" ambessa's voice carried from the en-suite, still commanding even wrapped in morning softness.

you could hear the water running; a bath being drawn.

“coming, mama.”

© hcneymooners. ⚚ special taglist: @sugrcookiiee @icespiceluva @16novvs @tnash-tammy @dyk3miffy @iwasholic @absandsevikasgirl @blackdykegirlblogger @fortluocha @neganwifey25-blog @rottngrl3 just pop me a message or comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

#ambessa x you #ambessa x reader #ambessa x y/n #arcane ambessa #ambessa medarda #ambessa league of legends #wlw smut #lesbian #sapphic #arcane fanfic #arcane smut #arcane x reader #wlw #mine ; 🐎.#female!reader #fem!reader #ambessa smut

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