#but he got so frustrated with trying to get help and no one helping him that he went back to do it himself

[steddiebrainrotramble]

Saw this idea floating around and wanted to write a little bit about it

Corroded coffin has gotten big enough for larger venues now. Steve was so proud of them. He and Eddie had agreed on day one he’d stay with them. He helped manage the band behind the scenes. Steve loved it. He loved the guys and getting to spend their days off exploring different parts of the cities they toured.

It was hard sometimes though, at places like this especially. Sometimes he got migraines and had to come later. Or wanted to step out for a smoke. Large venues like this had large back of the house and green rooms but some times he just needed to get out.

That wasn’t the problem. Getting back in was. Even with his back stage access pass, a lot of the time the venue security refused to believe that the man before them was the lead singers husband.

How could he be? The man in the yellow polo and jeans with perfectly coifed hair at a metal concert didn’t look like he belonged in the venue let alone with the band. And that was his problem right at this moment.

Steve looked up at the large looking men. Two of them, looking unimpressed with him. “Look, I don’t know where you stole that pass from but everyone knows Munsons husband’s name. Get out of here before we throw you out.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair. He was trying not to get frustrated. He appreciated them, honestly. He wanted to keep Eddie safe. But fuck he did not want to do this right now. “I appreciate you doing your job. But I’ve got my badge. Call back to Ed’s security. Describe me to them. Hell tell them the shirt I’m wearing, Cj helped pick it out, says it’s a good yellow. Mat says it’s too horrendous but it somehow suits me. Couldn’t tell if that’s a compliment honestly.” Steve shrugged. The guards look unamused.

Finally the one on the left sighs. “Fine I’ll walkie back. If they say they have no clue who you are we’re kicking you completely out and trespassing you. Sure you want to gamble that?” The guy smirked and Steve shrugged. “Go for it.”

Guy walkied for the bands security. “Got a preppy looking guy here. Think he stole a backstage pass.” Steve can hear Cj’s voice crackle over the walkie. “He wearing an amazingly blinding yellow polo?” “Yes…” “That’s Munson’s hubby, let him through.”

Steve just stared at them as he pushed pass, careful to remind himself he had another story to tell Robin next time he called.

[gf2bellamy]

obsessed with the idea of a nervous spencer trying to hide his new relationship with a member of his team (reader) during a case where they share a hotel room and bringing up like statistics of secret relationships or something like that and needing the reassurance that everythings fine [i’d like to request non freaky if possible, but it’s ultimately up to you :) ] have a good say!!

secret — spencer reid

pairing : spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing i think ? a/n: thank you for your request !! i absolutely loved this idea it's so cute i hope you like this !! <3

You collapsed onto the bed with a heavy sigh, your muscles aching from hours of travel and the stress of the case. The moment your body hit the soft mattress, you could feel your eyelids growing heavier, and exhaustion seemed to envelop you like a thick blanket.

You were so tired, you could have easily fallen asleep right there, still fully dressed. 

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” Spencer's voice pulled you from your drowsy haze. His voice was soft, almost gentle, but you could hear the amusement in it. “You need to change out of your outside clothes.” 

You groaned, half-heartedly rolling over onto your back, your arm flopping across your eyes. “What for?” you mumbled, not even bothering to lift your head.

Spencer chuckled quietly as he dropped both your bags and his onto the floor with a soft thud. He leaned against the foot of the bed, his eyes scanning your tired form.

“Hotch will probably pull us out of bed in the middle of the night anyway,” you added with a hint of frustration in your tone. “Might as well be ready, right?” 

You cracked open an eye, and there he was—Spencer, standing there with that familiar, sweet smile that made your heart do a little flip. 

“Come on,” he said gently, offering his hand to you, his fingers extended toward you.

You hesitated for a moment, letting out a small sigh of frustration. But something about his smile, about the way he always knew how to make you feel just a little bit lighter, made it hard to resist. 

With a reluctant but trusting motion, you placed your hand in his, allowing him to gently pull you up.

Spencer bent down to grab one of the bags, rummaging through it for a moment before pulling out your favorite hoodie and a pair of soft sweatpants. "Here," he said gently, handing them to you.

His voice was soft, and his eyes sparkled with that quiet affection you’d come to know all too well. "Get changed," he added with a soft tone.

You nodded, too tired to protest, but you smiled softly as you took the clothes from him.

Spencer's kindness and thoughtfulness had always been one of the things that drew you to him.

"Thanks," you murmured. 

As you moved to slip into the clothes, you heard the soft sound of Spencer moving around, followed by the familiar swish of the bathroom door opening and closing.

When you got done changing you walked towards the bathroom leaning against the doorframe. Spencer stood in front of the mirror, his back turned to you as he brushed his teeth.

His curls were slightly messy. You couldn't help but smile at how effortlessly cute he looked in such an ordinary moment.

When Spencer turned to you, his brow raised in that familiar, playful way, you could tell he was about to ask what had you staring at him.

"What?" you teased, your smile soft and genuine. "Can't I admire my boyfriend?" The words slipped out with ease, the affection in your voice undeniable. 

You could see the color rise up his neck, creeping toward his cheeks, and a small, bashful smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

It was always so easy to make him blush, and it never failed to make your heart flutter. 

With a quiet chuckle, you turned away from him, walking toward the bed. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. He was so wonderfully endearing, and moments like this made everything else fade into the background. 

After a few moments, you heard the quiet rustle of him finishing in the bathroom. When you glanced up at him, you saw him standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, watching you.

Now, he was the one staring at you, his gaze soft.

For a moment, the weight of the silence between you two seemed to stretch out.

"Do you think they know?" he asked suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes avoided yours as he spoke, staring at the floor as if there was something there he needed to focus on. 

"Who's 'they'?" you asked, your voice laced with confusion. You tilted your head, feeling a shift in the air. You pulled the blanket up, making space for him beside you. "And know what?" 

He hesitated before answering, his fingers twitching slightly as he shut the bathroom door behind him. "The team," he finally muttered, lowering his gaze even more. "About us." 

He sat beside you, but there was a certain distance in the way he sat—fidgeting, picking at the blanket between you two. You watched him carefully, your curiosity piqued.

You sat up, turning your body fully toward him, narrowing your eyes as you tried to figure out what he was feeling. "Spence," you said softly, trying to catch his gaze. "What are you worried about?" 

He sighed deeply, his eyes now locked on his hands, which had become absorbed in the folds of the blanket. “I just… I don’t know." His voice was shaky now, as if trying to force out a thought that wasn’t easy to say. "It’s not uncommon for people in our line of work to keep things like this secret. But... I mean, statistically speaking, workplace relationships tend to end up in complications, and... and with our jobs being so stressful, we have to maintain a certain level of professionalism and—" 

You watched him ramble, his words rushing out as if he couldn’t stop them, his mind running in a thousand directions at once.

You could see it—the way his brow furrowed, and his lips moved quickly, barely taking a breath between sentences.

His eyes remained fixed on the blanket, his thoughts clearly all over the place. 

You scooted a bit closer, your body naturally gravitating toward his as you reached out to gently place your hand on his, stopping him from fiddling with the blanket. His hands immediately stilled under yours, the restless motion ceasing.

He exhaled softly, his shoulders slumping as if he'd finally realized how much he'd been overthinking. "Sorry," he mumbled, his voice filled with a mix of apology and frustration. 

You shook your head, your thumb brushing across the back of his hand as you gave him a soft, comforting smile. "Don’t apologize," you said quietly, your voice warm and understanding. You could see the way his mind was still spinning. You brushed his hair out of his face, your fingers lingering on his cheek for more than just a second.

“Spence,” you called his name softly, practically asking him to meet your gaze.

His hazel eyes were filled with the familiar vulnerability you knew so well, and you couldn’t help but soften at the sight. 

“You know they’re not just our team, right?” you continued, your voice filled with care. “We practically spend our entire day with them. They’re like family.” You studied his face, trying to convey the depth of your feelings. "So what if they find out?" 

Spencer blinked, his eyes searching yours as if weighing your words. You watched him closely, waiting for him to process it.

You could feel the tension in him, the doubt still lingering.

You smiled softly, knowing you had to push this a little further, to make him see things from your perspective. “The worst thing that could happen would be Garcia and Derek annoying us all day,” you teased lightly, a playful note creeping into your voice. 

At that, Spencer let out a quiet chuckle, his lips curving up into a small, amused smile. You watched as the tension in his shoulders slowly eased. 

“I can already hear Garcia asking us a thousand questions,” he muttered, half-laughing at the image in his head. “Derek would be all over it, too—probably making terrible jokes about us.”

You grinned, teasing him lightly. “I can already hear Garcia asking if we’ve picked out the wedding colors yet. And Derek? He’ll probably be calling us ‘lovebirds’ for the next week.”

Spencer chuckled, his shoulders shaking slightly as he imagined the teasing they'd get from their teammates. “Yeah, and Morgan will act like he’s our unofficial wedding planner,” he said, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. “He’d probably try to get us to elope in Vegas or something.”

You burst out laughing at the thought of Derek’s over-the-top antics. “Honestly, that sounds like something he’d suggest." You smiled playfully at him.

He looked down at you , his expression turning slightly serious.

His eyes warm and fond, but there was still a hint of uncertainty lingering in his gaze. “I just don’t want things to get weird, you know? Between us, or with the team.”

You softened, your heart going out to him. You reached up, gently cupping his cheek to get him to look at you, a reassuring smile on your lips. “Spencer, we’ve been through a lot together, and if anyone’s going to understand, it’s them. We’re a team, and they’ll support us—no matter what. I promise.”

 Without thinking, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin against your lips.

Spencer blinked in surprise, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush, and he turned to you with a soft smile that made your heart flutter. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice sincere as he gazed at you with warmth in his eyes. 

You smiled back, reaching over to gently pat his hand. “Anytime,” you said.

“How about we sleep now?” you added, a slightly tired look in your eyes.

Spencer nodded without hesitation, giving you a small, relieved smile as he stood up to turn off the nightlight.

You scooted over, making space for him, and before long, he was lying beside you, pulling you gently into his chest. 

The warmth of his body surrounded you, and you rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

 "Good night," Spencer murmured softly, his voice barely more than a breath.

You smiled, your eyes fluttering shut as you snuggled closer, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. “Good night, Spence,” you whispered back, your voice soft and content. 

[beloveds-embrace]

Thinking about designationless!reader au, how the boys would spend HOURS searching for candles that properly represented their scents so reader would feel included in the nest

Anyway just wanted to say I LOVE your writing and you've got me inspired to write my own little designationless!reader au (which if I ever do post, I will tag you for credits ❤️❤️), its just has so many possibilities

Every time I see you post, blog, wtver this website wants to call it, my day gets a little brighter :)

-👽

omg thank you so so so much anon?? you are so very sweet!! i am very happy to know you like my stuff and felt inspired by it!! i hope you enjoy this, your idea was wonderful! <33 omegaverse masterlist

The idea had started innocently enough.

Gaz had mentioned it one night while they were snuggled in the nest, you nestled warm and comfy between them all. You’d fallen asleep on Price’s chest, Soap’s arm thrown over your waist, Ghost’s steady breathing brushing your temple, and Gaz quietly watching from the edge.

“She can’t smell us,” Gaz had murmured, musing and cutting through the peaceful silence. “But… what if she could? Just a little? For the nest.”

It was a seed of an idea that quickly took root in all of them.

The next day, they found themselves walking through shops they’d normally never step foot in- boutiques, candle stores, even a few farmers’ markets. Price looked utterly out of place amongst rows of colorful jars, his gruff demeanor clashing with the delicate scents wafting around him. Soap, on the other hand, took to it with a determination that made the staff wary as he sniffed candle after candle, holding them up to Gaz and Ghost for confirmation.

“This one’s close, isn’t it?” he asked, holding up a jar labeled Amber Woods. He shoved it under Ghost’s nose, earning an irritated growl.

“Too sweet,” Ghost muttered then, shaking his head. “Try again.”

Gaz was off in another aisle, holding up a candle labeled Vanilla Bourbon and frowning. “This isn’t right either. It’s too… fake.” He sighed, setting it down with a heavy thunk. “How’s it this hard to find something that fits?”

Price stood in the corner, his brow furrowed as he examined the names on the candles. He knew and had been told many times his cedarwood scent was sharp and earthy, grounding in a way that none of these synthetic imitations could capture. He picked one up- Smoked Cedar- and took a deep inhale.

“Not bad." He said after a moment, setting it aside in their “maybe” pile.

They spent hours combing through the store, moving from candle jars to wax melts to essential oil blends. They argued with each other quietly, then with the amused store employees, their tones growing increasingly frustrated with each other as they tried to find scents that truly represented themselves.

“It’s just a candle, sirs,” One employee, clearly annoyed with them, chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Does it really matter this much?”

Ghost’s dark eyes snapped to him, his voice low and dangerous, not helped by the balaclava and cap he wore. “It’s not just a candle. It’s for someone.”

That shut the employee up quickly.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity and much sniffing, they settled on a few options.

When they brought the candles back to the nest (oh, how they loved that you were beginning to spend more and more of your free time there), you blinked up at them, confused by their triumphant expressions and the little bag Price held in his hand. They looked a little too proud of themselves.

“What’s all this?” You asked, sitting up from your spot. I

“Something for you.” Price said simply, his voice soft as he placed candles on the table.

Soap grinned, almost vibrating with excitement and pride as he gestured for you to come closer. “Go on, lass. Smell ‘em.”

You leaned forward, hesitantly uncapping the first candle. The cedarwood hit you first, earthy and grounding, and your eyes fluttered shut as you hummed in delight. You glanced up at Price when you heard a deep rumble you've come to understand as prideful.

“This is.... you, isn't it?” you realized, earning a small nod from him.

You went through each one, inhaling the soft citrus of Soap’s, the richness of Ghost’s smoky scent, the soothing vanilla of Gaz’s. By the time you finished, you stared at them with something akin to more awe than the sun has for its orbiting planets.

“You did this... for me?”

“Of course,” Gaz pressed a kiss to your temple. “Wanted you to feel like you’re part of us. Always.”

You didn’t know what to say, but as they lit the candles and pulled you back into the nest, you felt surrounded by them in a way you never had before.

And for the first time, you felt as if you could... be like them. For once, you understood what their scents were like- a part of their world for just a moment.

You will be keeping those candles.

[leia-writes]

hi! i had a dream about this recently and was wondering if it would be anything you'd be interested in writing :)

it starts off with the reader and in-ho going through a really rough break up but they still have feelings for each other. right before the s2 games started, in-ho went to a bar and saw reader there and her job is to perform live music, so she sings about in-ho and their breakup, not realizing that he was actually there

Maybe You'll Be There

hwang in-ho | front man x reader

ao3 link

masterlist

song inspiration: maybe you'll be there by etta jones

note: thank you so much for your request!!

warnings: angst

“Get out.”

You glared through teary eyes at In-ho, who was standing in the middle of your apartment with a bouquet of flowers. He sighed and dropped his arms in frustration, a few petals and leaves falling to the floor.

“I said I was sorry. I really am.”

“How many times have I heard that? You’re a broken record at this point.” You turned away from him and began cleaning up your kitchen. It took everything in your power not to break down crying right then, but you were just so tired of doing this with him. 

“I know. I messed up again. I’m sorry. Please.”

You sighed, dropping a glass into the sink. It clattered noisily as you turned towards In-ho. “Please what? Please forgive you for the thousandth time? Please forget how you ignore me whenever something important happens for me? Please let you play with my emotions?”

He stood there silently, trying to mask the shame spreading across his face.

“Which one, In-ho?”

He clenched his jaw, looking away from you. He still wouldn’t say anything. With every passing second he was silent you could feel your heart breaking even more.

You scoffed. “That’s what I thought. Get out.”

He gave you one last look, tears starting to form in his eyes. You’d never seen him cry, never even close to it. You wanted so badly to run to him, but you had to be strong this time.

You watched him as he set your flowers down on the table and walked to your door. He looked at you once again. For a brief moment you hoped he would say something, anything to make it right again.

Instead, he left, closing the door behind him.

~~~

You cried in bed that entire night. It was supposed to be a good day - you had just performed a full-blown concert all by yourself for the first time ever. Even though you worked for a very dark and secretive organization, you always made it a priority to pursue your passion for music. As time went on, you started gaining a reputation for being an outstanding jazz singer, and you found yourself wanting to move on from your high-stress job and live a more normal life.

After winning the squid games you participated in a couple years earlier, you soon found yourself working for the same organization alongside In-ho. Despite his cold exterior, you got along well. You had been dating almost a year before you started running into problems.

In-ho worked as the Front Man for a while before you joined him. You had only been working with him for a couple years, and you didn’t really have the same connection to that place like In-ho had. You both went through something extremely traumatic by playing and winning the games, but it seemed to bond In-ho to that place when you couldn’t care less. In-ho seemed constantly tormented by his decisions, as if he didn’t want to be there but couldn’t help himself.

As you started becoming more popular, you didn’t feel the need to work for them anymore. You wanted to leave many times, but In-ho always convinced you to stay. He promised over and over that you two could make it work, splitting time between the island and your apartment. And he promised he’d be at every one of your performances.

A promise he was never able to keep.

There were so many nights like that night, where In-ho would show up late in the evening, well after your performance, begging for forgiveness and promising to be better. You’d cry in front of him, break his heart a little, fall for his sweet words, and then make up as if nothing happened. Then you’d have another upcoming performance that always happened to conflict with work, and fight endlessly about how you navigate your relationship. Repeating the same vicious cycle over and over.

You couldn’t stand to keep breaking your heart like this. The love you felt for him was undeniable, something you felt you’d never get over, but the pain was just too much. Tonight was your final straw.

The next day, you finally quit your job and started your new life.

~~~

In-ho waited outside the lounge, the cold, night air whipping across his face. His hands were awkwardly stuck in his pockets as he scanned the people around him, looking for her. He was reluctantly waiting to meet someone on a blind date, set up for him by an acquaintance.

He didn’t want to be there at all, but figured he needed to start putting himself out there. Or at least that’s what everyone else was trying to convince him to do. After looking around for another brief moment, he spotted her approaching him.

She was beautiful. But she wasn’t you.

Ever since your painful breakup, he was tormented by thoughts of you. He couldn’t help but remember you in the little things around him, even now a year later. It was a constant reminder of his failings, how he ruined one of the only things that was good for him and made him truly happy.

He knew he was pushing you away the more you wanted to quit. He knew he was hurting you every time he missed a performance, ignored a call, prioritized anything else over you. He knew you’d be better off without him and his baggage.

In fact, it seemed true. Ever since you had finally broken up, he saw you rise to a whole new level of fame. You were constantly putting on performances and releasing new music. He tried his best to ignore any news he heard about you, but in moments of weakness couldn’t help but look you up and try to get a glimpse into your new life.

She approached him with a smile and they entered the lounge together, sitting at a small, intimate table for two. The atmosphere couldn’t have been any more romantic - warm, low lights, candles and a rose on the table, drinks and conversation flowing with ease around them. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt, as if he was doing something wrong.

A waiter approached the table and took their drink order. Upon returning, he excitedly pointed to the currently empty stage.

“Are you here to see the show?”

They looked blankly at the waiter, and she asked who was performing. In-ho felt his blood run cold when he heard the waiter say your name.

You.

You were performing at the lounge tonight. 

He gave a polite smile as he internally screamed. “Oh, we’re just staying for a drink, so we’ll probably miss it, won't we?” He glanced at his date.

She scoffed. “What? Of course not, we can’t miss this! I didn’t even know she was playing tonight.”

The waiter smiled. “It’s a special one-night performance, just for us. This is where she had one of her first solo performances!”

The waiter and In-ho’s date chatted briefly as In-ho tuned out all the noise around him. The one night he tried to get you off his mind, he found his way into the one place in the entire city you’d be. He felt his heart rate quicken and his head start to spin.

Suddenly he was pulled from his thoughts. “Are you a fan too? You seem the type,” his date asked.

He snapped out of it. “Oh, uh,” he cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “Yes, I am.”

She smiled. “Great! We can’t wait.”

The waiter smiled and left. In-ho and his date casually sipped their drinks while making small talk. His eyes would dart wildly near the stage, anticipating when you’d appear on stage, wondering if you’d be visible nearby. 

“Are you alright?”

In-ho brought his attention back to his date, who had a concerned look on her face. He smiled. “Oh. Yeah, sorry. Uh… just a bit nervous, I guess.”

She smiled and sighed, relieved. “Oh god, me too. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

He laughed softly, but couldn’t ignore the uncomfortable feeling he had inside. He looked around, noticing how busy the place was getting as your performance was about to start. 

“Want another drink before the show starts?” he asked. The waiters were incredibly busy, and he needed an excuse to step away.

“Sure. Just the same. Thanks.”

He quickly got up and walked to the bar. It was filled with people getting their last minute orders in, but he took his time getting the attention of the bartender. Anything to delay having to go back to the table and put on a facade. How was he supposed to act once you began performing?

As he was waiting for the drinks, you arrived on stage. The entire place erupted with applause. In-ho wanted it all to not be real, just a dream he could wake up from at any moment. He wanted to look away from you, to keep his focus on the drinks he was supposed to be getting, but he couldn’t stop himself from turning to you.

It was as if all the air in his chest escaped at once. You were standing at the microphone looking like an angel. The lights had dimmed in the room, with a single spotlight illuminating your face. You scanned the room with a soft smile on your face.

“Wow. Thank you all for coming. I’ve never seen this place so packed!”

A quiet laughter sounded from the audience as you continued. “As some of you may know, this is the spot where I had my very first solo performance ever, almost a year ago now. I have so many memories in this place. Some good, some bad, but… that’s life, isn’t it?” 

You paused to take a deep breath. “Tonight I’ll be singing some of your favorites, some I even performed here that first night. And I even have a new special song I’ll be performing at the end for you. I hope you enjoy.” You smiled as the band started, the crowd applauding again.

In-ho stood still, frozen at the bar as you began singing. He immediately recognized your first song, remembering so vividly even now how you practiced it and played it for him over and over. He didn’t even notice when the bartender gave him his drinks.

Instead, he stayed there almost your entire concert, completely mesmerized by you. With the songs he recognized, it was like watching his memories in a movie in front of him, as if he was experiencing those feelings again just like before. And with your new songs, it was like getting to know someone he’d never met. He saw the parts of your life he had completely missed. It created a deep sense of loneliness and longing in his heart.

Before your last song, he finally became aware of himself and brought the drinks to his table. His date looked surprised.

“Oh. I thought you ditched me.” She scowled.

In-ho gave her an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. The drinks…”

“The drinks didn’t take that long.”

In-ho sighed. “I know. I’m sorry, I got distracted.”

She sighed, taking a long sip of her drink. “You know, it’s fine. I was warned you might be like this, anyways.”

He was taken aback for a second. “What?”

“Your friends, they all told me they basically forced you into this.”

He scoffed. He wanted to defend himself for a moment… but they were right. He stayed silent.

“I just thought you’d have better manners than this,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He wasn’t sure what to say. Before he could think of something, you spoke before your last song.

“I want to thank you all for being here tonight. It means the world to have your support. Thanks to you, I’ve been able to make my dreams a reality. I’d like to thank you by playing a brand new song, just for you all. I wrote this recently, but it’s about what some of my life has been like this past year. 

“Like I said before, some good memories, and some bad. I wrote this to reflect on some of those bad memories, and hopefully let go of the pain with them. I’m sure some of you can relate, right?”

Many in the crowd nodded. “This one is called Maybe You’ll Be There. Thank you.”

As you began your song, In-ho’s blood slowly ran cold. He knew after the first verse you were talking about him. He studied your face as you sang, watching how your eyes would subtly flutter at particularly emotional moments. It was something most people wouldn’t pick up on, but he knew you. He still knew you so well.

Your voice filled the space with ease as you reached more intense moments, gracing the ears of the audience with your rich tone. Once you reached the last verse, a tear fell down your cheek in perfect timing. In-ho’s heart strained in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to run to you on that stage and wipe the tear from your face, and do anything to make you happy again, anything to make the two of you whole again, anything to heal the wound that festered over the last year.

He almost cried listening to the final words of your song, hearing how you wished he would come back. After everything you had gone through together, and all the time you spent apart, you still missed him. His heart broke - he didn’t deserve you, and you deserved so much better than him. And you said it yourself, that you hoped you could finally move on after releasing this song.

Although it pained him greatly, and forced him to defy the longing he felt in every fiber of his being, he knew you’d be better off without him. And so, after your performance ended, he politely excused himself from the date and went home. 

~~~

You entered your apartment later that night, pleasantly exhausted. It was late, but you were still buzzing with emotion. You hadn’t expected to become so emotional while performing your new song. It had been a long time since you cried on stage, but singing that song brought back so many painful memories that you couldn’t help yourself. Despite that, you were proud of having such a vulnerable moment become something beautiful.

You collapsed on your couch with a glass of wine, too tired to get changed just yet. The silence enveloped you. You remembered a year ago, the last time you saw In-ho in your apartment. The somber look he gave you as he left. The ensuing rush of tears and pain that you couldn’t keep in that night. 

And the painful ache of longing you’ve had ever since then.

You sighed deeply, finishing your glass of wine and willing yourself to stand up. Life goes on, you told yourself. You were well-acquainted with the act of ignoring your feelings and pressing forward. No matter how much you wanted In-ho to appear in front of you, it wasn’t going to happen. He never once tried to get you back in the entire past year. Maybe now you could finally let go.

As you walked to your bedroom, you heard a light knocking at your door. 

You stopped. Were you hearing things? The following silence was filled with tension.

You were about to dismiss the noise and continue walking when you heard it again, this time louder. Your heart was beating through your chest. 

Slowly, you walked to the door. Your heart leapt, as if you knew who was behind the door. You weren’t sure whether to cry, or get excited, or get angry. A flurry of emotions filled your mind as you grasped the door handle, turned it, and pulled the door open.

You froze at the man standing in front of you. His grief stricken face. Flowers in his hands. The way he breathed a sigh of relief. 

The way your heart breathed a sigh of relief.

In-ho.

[unknownati]

xiii. tap tap tap

a/n: im. Cooking. I swear

idk whether to finish my reqs first or my wips 😭 but lowkey i've been busy asf sorry 😞 i am slooowly chipping away at them

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no desc of reader's physical features, gn!reader, sub!ekko, crop top, living my truth, orgasm denial, handjob, short bleghhh, unproofread THIS ENDING 😒

_______________________________________________

a small groan rumbles in ekko's chest as he leans over his workbench, papers scattered across the wood surface in a chaotic organization.

"ugh," ekko's head shook, nose scrunching in frustration. nothing was adding up—none of the math circled back to the main problem.

his z-drive got messed up in a fight, and the whole thing was completely off now. not being able to figure this stupid thing out had his forehead heating up, his fingers flicking his pencil between his fingers, a constant rapping against the table reminiscent to a clock ticking.

a whole room over, the sound made your ears twitch at the familiarity, your mind's attention shifting from the book you were reading to that consistent noise.

you've asked ekko many times to try to not make that noise—it's a distraction, gritting to your ears. each word you read gets replaced with a 'tap tap.'

you know the context behind that noise too—so why not help him fix it?

you peek into ekko's room, the tapping filling your ears more clearly. your presence is thick, even with your lack of noise, ekko realizes you're there. he gives you a small grunt of acknowledgment, no time to think about anything more.

your chin rests on his shoulder, palms running up and down his forearms. your eyes pass over the work he has, not a clue in the world what any of this means. what your eyes dart to instead was that pencil. still tapping. you hum. "what's wrong, baby?"

his nose scrunches and he sighs, shaking his head. "i just can't figure this out."

you let the sentence linger in the air, squeezing his shoulders, fingers slipping to kneed his biceps. "hmm...well, what are you tryna do?"

his lips form a line and then he opens his mouth, explaining the entire plan out to you with reasoning, showing you pictures, showing you evidence, everything. you weren't listening to a word.

"but the thing is, i tried both, and doing the first one leads me down a complete different road. and i'm wondering if it's because—"

"mhm," you hum as he continues speaking, your eyes trailing up his gesticulating arms, then down. his shirt was cropped, his midriff peeking out from the angle you were at. casually, both of your hands begin snaking down. they both stop at his waist. he doesn't notice—it's a regular occurrence. you're always touching the visible skin when he's wearing a crop top.

you couldn't lie, the sight was tantalizing. every time he reached up for something, the shirt would raise and give you a larger view of his abs. something about the crop top was so much better than seeing him shirtless.

it wasn't until your hand started creeping up his shirt that he fumbled over his words. "what are you doing?"

"nothing, sorry. keep talking."

he cleared his throat, stuttering for a moment but then getting back on track to his sentences. he asks something, some question related to the papers in front of him.

"hmm, well i dunno baby. talk me through it, what do you think?" you throw the ball right back into his court. good thing ekko likes talking, because he immediately had an answer for you, his mouth running once again.

you give half-hearted noises of acknowledgment between pauses in speech, meanwhile, the hand that wasn't up his shirt was slooowly making it's way down his pants. once you breached the band of his boxers, he stuttered again.

"what are you doing?" he re-asks, more emphasis on his words. you shake your head.

"focus on what you have to figure out, not on me."

he doesn't respond, zoning out as your fist closes around his dick. it's slowly growing in your hand, twitching at your touch. the hand up his shirt taps. "focus." you repeat.

"um," he groans, picking up the next sheet of paper. "i just think that—"

his sentence was cut short by a gasp, since you gave him no time to prepare himself, immediately starting to stroke him. he thinks he knows what game you're playing.

"think that...maybe i should try thinking about it the other...way around...i–f-fuck..." his sentence trails off, shaky breaths filling the air and ghosting around him. the tapping grows weak until it finally stops, wood clattering and rolling against the desk.

"you...?" you pick the sentence off where it ended, your wrist flicking rapidly. his knees feel weak— he leans his weight onto his palms, which rest against the edge of the table.

"god, i–i don't know. i can't focus with you doing that..."

you allow him a few more moments of bliss, and you can tell he's close. you're leading him right into your trap, moving faster,

"ah,"

faster,

"baby, please, i'm-"

faster,

"oh fuck,"

...then it's all gone. the tight coil in his tummy simply...crumbled rather than unraveling. he almost collapses, arms wobbling to hold himself up on the desk.

"that's how i feel when you tap that pencil."

before he can even process his confusion, you're out the room, door shutting behind you.

maybe an unconventional approach—but you never heard that tapping again.

[oneoftheextras]

lockjaw | j.t four

masterlist | help me fund my top-surgery?

paring: hybrid puppy!jayce talis x f!reader

summary: after a recent breakup you find yourself adopting a hybrid to keep you company, but he's more feral than you can handle

series warnings: 18+, hybrid jayce (ears and tail), slight a/b/o traits (could argue alpha jayce), eventual smut, protective jayce, size difference

words: 4.4k

chapter warnings: blood, violence, and angst (trauma), not a lot for this one but its got nuggets if you can find them

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five |

want a handwritten letter from a character? / join the discord

Droplets of scarlet hit the wet pavement under his hands in trickles. The rain tried it’s best to wash away the blood seeping out of the abrasions on his knuckles but it was failing. 

He lifted his hand to wipe away the metallic-tasing liquid that filled his mouth from the split in his lip, and pushed himself back on his knees. 

“Get up, puppy!” the man who’d hit him shouted the pet name with the intent to cause offence. He spat a ball of saliva at him, clearly meaning for it to land on his person, but his inebriated state affected his aim as well as his decision making skills.

Jayce tilted his head diagonally but kept his eyeline to the floor; lips parted as an attempt to inhale the fresh rain-chilled air and calm his growing frustration. It would’ve been refreshing if not for the lingering flavour of iron.

The man, with his companions in tow, continued their approach, “Are you deaf, mutt?” he kicked up a puddle, splashing his already dirty t-shirt with filth, “What’s the point in those ridiculous ears if they don’t work?”.

Jayce shook his head, letting little beads of water fly from his hair, and got to his feet. He noticed how the three pairs of steps faltered for a moment when he’d fully straightened his spine, before they advanced. 

He didn’t want this. All he was trying to do was find somewhere safe and dry to rest for the night and avoid the storm.

“Freak!” one of the men yelled as he lunged forward, a metal pole moved with him like an extra limb, swinging through the air. 

Jayce leaned backwards to avoid it, and the end of the metal skimmed his cheekbone, but didn’t make contact. He used the man’s momentum to push him into the wall of the alley. His head collided with the brick and he slumped to the ground with a groan.

Hold back, don’t hurt them.

Upon seeing their friend get so easily manoeuvred, the other two charged like angry bulls. One tackled his middle section and the other jumped and grabbed him by the roots of his hair.

“You fucking animal!” the one on his torso cursed as he repeatedly punched him in the stomach, while the other shifted his grip to be on his sensitive ears, pulling them until he was hunched over.

He could’ve fought them off, he was physically stronger, but when he saw the crimson streak running down the man’s face - the one who he’d pushed - he knew he shouldn’t.

Hold back, don’t hurt them!

He closed his eyes and inhaled with every strike, it would be over soon. They dragged him to the ground and pushed his face into the dirty puddle that had stained his clothes, the murky water attaching itself to his skin and hair like a fungus.

“Monster!” they spat as they got their last jabs in and left him on the ground to collect their friend, satisfied that he was no longer moving.

Maybe he was a monster, but what else was he supposed to be?

A loud thud shook you awake, your body was on red alert as you jolted from your bed. The room was steeped in darkness, the illuminating glow of the street light leaking through the crack in your curtains was your only source of light.

Blindly you reached for your phone and clicked the button to light up the screen, the eye that was more awake than the other focused on the time; 4:22am.

You rubbed your face and put your phone back on the side, it was too early to be awake yet, so you started to lay back down with an attempt to go back to sleep. However, before your head could fully touch the pillow you heard footsteps from the living room.

For a moment it startled you, the sensation of living alone still second nature, but you settled once you realised it must have been Jayce.

Adrenaline still flowed through you, so there was no chance that you’d be getting back to sleep any time soon. Throwing your blanket off of your body, you stretched and wandered to the living room.

The small reading lamp gave the room a slight orange tint, not enough to hurt your tired eyes but enough to radiate the room with a soft glow. 

“Hey,” you called out to him gently, your voice cracking from the first use of the day. He stopped his pacing when he heard you, and turned to your direction - his hair was ruffled with strands sticking up in places, even the fur on his ears was unkempt.

You glanced down at the couch where the brown fluffy blanket was scrunched up to one side and the pillows slightly torn, their white polyester innards across the couch and some fallen to the ground.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked cautiously, trying to ignore how deep the gashes in the fabric were.

He averted your gaze and slowly moved towards the window to observe the street below, his jaw was clenched from gritted teeth hiding behind pursed lips, and his amber eyes were hard and unmoving.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that something had rattled him. It was unsurprising considering he was in a strange place with new smells and sounds; a lot of the forums said sleepless nights were common for the first few days.

“Do you want some tea or coffee?” you stretched again with a groan and started toward the kitchen but waited for his response before fully exiting the room. The ear closest to you twitched and you saw him briefly look at you out of the corner of his eye.

His body language shifted to indicate he wanted to follow, but something was holding him back. “Well, I’m going to make a coffee, you’re welcome to join me if you want,” you left the door open and decided not to push him any further.

You got two mugs out of the cupboard and set them down on the counter, rubbing your eyes with your free hand - the glare of the kitchen light stung - when you heard footsteps getting closer to you.

Glancing over your shoulder and towards the doorway, you watched Jayce enter slowly. He was cold and somewhat unreadable but you could see the uncertainty in his eyes, so you pulled out one of the stools from the island and tapped it for him to sit.

“Come, keep me company while I wait for this to boil,” you gestured to the kettle, “And…” you extended the word and held it until you found what you were looking for. “I got you these-” you placed a wooden box in front of him and lifted the lid, “-just choose one and let me know, okay?”.

The box contained different packets of tea, each divided into their own section and labelled, you’d bought it specifically for him. 

“I don’t know if I remembered all the ones you had back at the sa-” you paused to correct yourself, “-the other place, but I got a few that I thought you might like,” you rambled as you filled the coffee machine with a pod and put your mug under the nozzle, pressing the button for it to start.

He inspected the box; picking up a packet, reading it, sniffing the outside and putting it back into the box. After the sixth sniff test you were starting to worry if you’d remembered incorrectly.

He inhaled one light-blue coloured one and scrunched his face up with disgust - he doesn’t like chamomile, okay, noted.

“Did you know that-” he lifted his attention from the box to the back of your head while you watched the coffee pump out into your mug and spoke, “-No one knows where chamomile tea originally came from?”.

You twisted the mug on it’s podium so the hand was on the right and let the brown liquid slowly fill it, “Well,” you interrupted yourself, “That’s technically a lie,” you chuckled.

“The first documented use of it is in Ancient Egypt for religious ceremonies, you know, the whole embalming the body so it’s preserved for when they meet the gods type of deal,”.

At one point when you were speaking you’d turned to lean against the counter, but your eye line was still watching your mug. He didn’t know why, but you knew it was because the coffee machine would sometimes cut out while pouring and you didn’t want chunks of granules in your drink.

He observed the side of your face, watching your jaw move as you continued, “It was the Romans who started to actually drink it, and then unsurprisingly, so did the Greeks-”.

The machine stopped pouring and gently beeped to notify you that it was done, so you lifted the cup from its platform and continued making your drink.

“-And they largely documented it as being medicinal- Oh!” you exclaimed as you remembered another fun fact, “Did you also know that the word chamomile comes from the Greek word ‘khamaimēlon’, I’m definitely pronouncing that wrong, but it means ‘earth apple’, isn’t that funny?” you stopped rambling when you turned to him to collect whichever tea sachet he’d picked but realised he was staring at you with a blank expression.

You pulled down the sleeves on your shirt to cover your knuckles when you finally acknowledged his gaze. He noted the gesture and wondered why you did it so much.

“Did you choose one?” you timidly asked, trying to act as if you hadn’t just spewed all your thoughts out at once. Noticing that he had a packet in his hand, pinched between two fingers, you extended your palm to him.

However, instead of giving it to you, he stood from his seated position and ripped open the paper with his teeth, wrapping his hand around the empty mug and placing it in front of him.

“I don’t mind doing it for you,” you stepped closer to him, expecting him to move out of the way so you could take over. As if you were both south poles of a magnet and your proximity repelled him; the closer you got to him the further he leaned away - taking the mug with him, and paper still clenched between his canines.

You recoiled your hand and stepped away, a soft “Okay,” was all you could manage before you returned to your cup and gave him space.

He was more isolated than yesterday. His shoulder muscles tensed when you moved too quickly or closely to him, so perhaps it was best to keep your distance until he approached you.

He trickled the boiling water into the mug and bounced the teabag, submerging it under the water and letting it rise again with delicate precision until he was happy with the colour it had changed to.

“When it’s a more reasonable hour-,” the two of you had made your way back to the living room, “-I can show you around town, what’s nearby and stuff, if you want?” you tucked your legs under yourself as you got comfortable on the couch.

The semi-destoryed pillow puffed out more white innards when you leaned back on it, “We should probably get you some new pillows too, but I don’t know if they do indestructible ones,” you chuckled, trying to make light of the situation.

The whole time you spoke Jayce stood by the large window, staring down at the barren streets below. He held the mug with both hands, the only visible part being the handle hooked over two of his fingers, maybe you should look for some larger cups for him too?

“Or we can stay inside, I’m not working again until Monday, so I’m all yours for two days!”, he glanced at you out of the corner of your eye and you suddenly felt very small again, “Well,” you cleared your throat, “I have chores I need to do, but you get what I mean,”.

A car revved its engine outside and his attention darted back to the intrusive sound, the hairs on his arms standing to attention, leaving goosebumps across his skin. 

The grip he had on the mug was intense, causing his knuckles to start to lose their colour, “Come sit down,” you suggested, trying to hold some authority in your voice but largely failing.

He regarded you again but didn’t move from his post, instead sipping his drink and keeping his eyes on the street.

He reminded you of a sentinel, ever watching and ever on guard duty.

You turned the TV on and quickly muted until you were able to put on some relaxing meditation music which finally made him turn away from the window and towards the TV.

The muscles in his nose scrunched lightly as the wrinkle between his eyebrows deepened, his eyeline switching between you and the TV, “It’s cheesy, I know, but it genuinely does help,”.

There was a moment of stillness, neither of you moved, just the sound of the music filled the air but the atmosphere was anything but calm.

You pointed towards the bag you’d handed to him yesterday which had been placed next to the TV, “Did you take a look inside?”, he shook his head softly and eyed the bag, “Oh! Go get it!” you shuffled with excitement, picking up your coffee cup and cradling it in your hands.

He hesitated but eventually put his cup down atop one of the coasters on the table and retrieved the bag, “Sit, sit, sit!” you tapped the couch next to you like a child about to open presents on Christmas day, but he opted for the armchair adjacent to you.

Maybe you shouldn’t have told him to sit? It slipped out so naturally, but perhaps it came across that you were treating him like an actual dog? You shook your head, trying to ignore your thoughts and instead focus on him.

He put his hand into the bag and slid the first box out, Clue. He turned the box over with confusion and inspected the back, his eyes sliding from side to side - at least that answered a question about whether he could read.

“Have you played Clue before?” you asked. He gently placed the box on the coffee table and shook his head again whilst revealing more board games; Catan, Monopoly, Battleship, and of course, a chess set.

Every box he studied with acute interest, taking in every picture and word on the print like it was the first time he’d seen it. He glanced up to you from the last one, his amber eyes slightly softer and calmer than before, and the corner of his mouth upturned into a subtle smile.

“We can play now if you want?” you placed your coffee to the side and started to clear the table, he shuffled forward to the edge of the armchair cushion and helped you, “You choose, I'm happy to play whatever,” you encouraged him.

He immediately picked up Clue, seeing as it was the one that you'd asked about and seemed the most excited for. When you smiled, he knew he'd picked correctly.

He ran the nail of his pinky along the seam where the lid met the rest of the box, and sliced through the thin plastic wrapping, pulling it off whilst you moved the last few things off of the table. 

Jayce placed the box on the surface and slowly lifted the lid until it popped off, but let you set up the board and shuffle the cards.

You explained how the game worked whilst he picked up each of the small coloured cones and their respective character cards, deciding which one he wanted to play as.

He eventually decided on Colonel Mustard, and chose Professor Plum for you. 

It took him a few rounds to fully understand the mechanics of the game; roll the dice, enter a room and make a guess. He’d write his three words down on a notepad you’d found for him, and the first thing you noticed was how neat his handwriting was.

It was bigger than yours and slightly slanted as if it were in italics, but almost like something you’d expect to find on a fancy sign.

You won the first few games, "Unfair advantage," you'd commented to reassure him, but as you'd expected, he started to pick up your tactics quickly.

“Rope, Library, and Reverent Green?” you recited what he’d written as his next guess and inspected your hand, none of those cards were between your fingers, “I think you’ve got it,” you smiled at him and picked up the envelope in the middle of the board to hand it to him.

He slipped one of his fingers into the sleeve, the paper bending to the outline of his digit and he pulled the three cards out to see if he was right.

He grinned as he turned each of the cards over, revealing one by one.

Reverend Green. He turned the second card over on the board, Rope. He narrowed his eyes at the last card smiling, his canines poking out from under his top lip; as he pinched the card between his middle and index finger to slowly turn it towards you, Library.

He’d won, again. “Damn,” you looked at the spread of cards, the regal yet smug expression on the Reverend's face, sandwiched between the darker tones of the Rope and Library, “Not a bad way to go,” you muttered to yourself with a giggle. 

Your tone wasn’t lost on him. He side eyed you with a raised brow, his expression unreadable but somewhat judgemental. “Sorry, I’m tired,” you said as you fought the rising heat in your cheeks, and rubbed your face with your hand.

The coffee in your cup had long since emptied, as was Jayce’s tea, but he picked up the cards and started to shuffle them again.

You glanced up to the clock on the wall, 6:53am. The two of you had been playing for over two hours, but Jayce didn’t seem the least bit tired.

He organised the cards, reset the pieces and slipped the three winning cards back into the envelope and started to mix the rest together.

His hands moved quickly, like a man who’d spent his whole life shuffling these cards, but your vision was starting to defocus like a faulty camera. Progressively throughout the night you’d slumped further and further into the side of the couch until you were laying down with your arm propping your head up to see the board.

Jayce handed you your pile of cards and rolled the dice, taking his turn first as the winner of almost all of the previous games, but your one eye that remained open couldn’t make out what number he’d rolled.

The last thing you remember was the clicking of his plastic yellow piece tapping gently against the board, signalling every step his character took. He must’ve rolled a five because you heard five taps, or was it four? It was hard to keep count.

When you awoke for the second time that Saturday, although eclipsed by the dark grey curtains that covered the windows, the sun shone brightly alongside the light trickling of rain. 

You stretched your limbs, hearing a few pops and cracks as your joints woke up slower than your brain; and the brown blanket that you’d left at the end of the couch for Jayce slid off of your torso as you sat up.

A groan left your lips as your spine fully extended and the muscles in your arms and legs relaxed from the tension. You peered towards the armchair but found it surprisingly empty, the large figure that had occupied it mere hours prior nowhere to be found. Even the cushion that normally sat there was missing.

With sleepiness still haunting your vision, you stood from the couch and went to pick up the mugs left on the coffee table. The right hand connected with your cup, which was strangely full with luke-warm coffee, and the left hand found nothing.

As if on autopilot, you shuffled towards the kitchen to empty your mug, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand when you almost tripped on a leg.

Luckily, some part of your occipital lobe was awake enough to notice the limb before you stepped on him.

Jayce was sat on the floor and using the side of the couch as a backrest; one leg bent so he could rest his arm on it and the other - the one you’d nearly stumbled over - had fallen carelessly to the ground and extended in front of him. Becoming the perfect hazard for your clumsy feet.

His head was tilted back and sideways against the arm of the couch, and his eyelids closed with his lashes delicately resting against his skin. His chest rising and falling with every inhale and exhale of deep breath. 

He appeared so peaceful when he was like this, a picture of contrast to his agitated 4am demeanour, but you were confused as to why he was on the floor. Was it because you’d accidentally taken the couch?

You tiptoed over his leg, successfully passing him without disturbance and continuing your journey to the kitchen, when there was a knock at the door. 

The sudden unexpected noise made you jump out of your skin; you were surprised that you didn’t spill the contents of the mug onto the light grey carpet. Thankfully, it stayed inside it’s ceramic container. Coffee stains were a pain to get out of the cheap yarn that the landlords had chosen as flooring.

When you opened the front door you were greeted by the friendly face of your neighbour, “Morning!” you whispered to him as an attempt to maintain whatever tranquillity Jayce had found in your apartment.

“Afternoon?” he laughed back, “Wait, what time is it?” you whipped your head around as if it was even possible to see the living room clock from where you were standing. Instead of ticking hands, you were met with piercing golden eyes staring back at you from the ground. The door was in the direct line of his sight. 

It was hard to break away from his gaze as he got to his feet, “It’s almost 1pm,” your neighbour confirmed, bringing your attention back to the man at the door, “Anyway, I was getting my mail and thought I’d grab yours too,” he extended a handful of envelopes to you.

“Oh, that’s kind, thank you!” you took the letters and smiled at him as if he didn’t do this on a weekly basis, “Not a problem, how have you been?” He put his hands in his pockets and made no gesture to indicate that he was leaving any time soon.

You turned your head back inside the apartment at the sound of a creaking floorboard to see that Jayce was walking towards you and the door whilst stretching his arms above his head.

“I, uh-” you stuttered as you stepped closer to the doorframe and pulled the door with you, trying to hide as much of the interior from him as you could.

“-I can’t really talk right now, sorry, I have company,” you tried to give him the hint to leave. After an already rough first night, you didn’t know how Jayce would react to another stranger within his proximity, and you hadn’t exactly cleared Jayce moving in with your landlord.

“Oh?” your neighbour quirked an eyebrow and smiled at you in a suggestive manner. Whilst you wanted to correct him and explain that it wasn’t like that, you could hear the footsteps behind you getting closer.

You chuckled to him and shrugged your shoulders, “Yeah, can’t keep him waiting,” you played into whatever narrative he had running through his head if it meant he would leave. 

He gave you a toothy smirk and looked you up and down, “Well, at least you’ve moved on,” his comment wasn’t supposed to come across as an insult but the implications stabbed you in the gut.

“Thank you for the mail!” you gave him the falsest smile you could muster after being so brutally and bluntly reminded of your loneliness, “We’ll go get brunch soon and you can tell me all about it,” he whispered to you with a wink before you finally managed to shut the door.

You inhaled deeply and leaned against the back of the door, happy to not be forced into a social situation you didn’t want. 

Jayce had stopped his approach when the door had closed, his nose crinkled up in distaste and his eyes boring into the door as if he could still see your neighbour through it. By that reaction alone, you knew you’d made the right call of not introducing them.

“Mail,” you waved the letters in a circular motion and put them on the table by the door. “I’m sorry I slept in so late,” you apologised, despite being the one that woke up first.

“I propose-” you started as you walked into the kitchen, finally completing your mission of emptying your mug and putting it in the sink to be washed up later, “-We go get you some better pillows, and I can show you what’s nearby, and we can get some lunch while we’re out,” you raised your voice slightly so he could still hear you in the other room.

“What do you think?” you popped your head around the doorframe and found him standing in the hallway as he was before. He opened his mouth widely to yawn; even though he covered his mouth with his hand, you could still see the sharp canines that lined his gums.

He rattled his head as if he was trying to shake away any remaining sleepiness in his body, but eventually nodded in answer to your question.

“Great!” you beamed, almost skipping with joy past him and towards the bathroom, “I’m going to have a quick shower, I’ll let you know when I’m done so you can use it, then we’ll head out,” you tapped the door frame as if you were a judge and your hand was the gavel making the final decision.

You had exactly the lunch spot in mind to take him.

taglist (send an ask to be added):

@jijihana @ k00yaa @ die-prophetin @slugstarzz @v1tale @bigchungusdrinksspritecranberry @pipsqueakpiper @lovely-dove69 @forcefullyawake @philwrites @mkelly16 @mymidnightsky @hydrasgarden @bak-eri @sweet-potat0 @shybookdragon @risingofjupiter @lostsoul526 @belm4rie @calciferthelivingfire @kiannaf @bottlcaps @bellizs @lewd-alien @xynokune @blinkerteleporthero @ciai5v-blog @pink-ys-world @sym6olism @roku907 @tati-the-fangirl @avtrsiren @cheesestickz @night-fall-moon @thegothicfox @jellyfish-princess3 @moonlitlovver @1-800-powpow @ssseu4643 @lethargicluv @katsutoria @greatbeautyoflife @morosluvbug @croweyes @memoysie @wonyexe @izakyun @funktchonalhuman3 @cumberdaddys @victoria2054 @sweetdayme4427 @undergroundratwatcher @heyimolive @bru5678 @accliahowl @2000m1n @captain-aulasy @pyro-arts0nist @iogutwsm @tigerlily7270 @opossumclown @yuren-sj @mioblobby @craxkbaby @avivamaligua-blog @madschiavelique @puppyminnnie @jackiekennedysxx @izabell26 @novausstuff @blanksy @alox @ribrye @prolongedmonologues @lananotdelreytbh @fleurlust @microsketchy @paudemuss @cxm177e @aerina127 @nexxus13 @darknessbyme @boba-is-a-soup @synchronised-beat @eternallyvenus @angelsdemonsmonsters @shiroganekagami @katsutoria @noxturnalmoth @claire-is-here 

[kikidoul]

── CRIMINAL LOVE.

໒꒰ྀི ^ ⸝⸝ ^ ꒱ྀིა 양정원 x fem! reader content established+secret relationship reader is a detective while jungwon is part of the mafia ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content petnames used fingering pussy eating cum eating edging/orgasm denial . . .!? 1328 — mlist. req

note. uh, i'm not really proud of this but i'm too lazy to rewrite so i'm afraid you have to make do with this... </3 taglist. @tfwbluu

You groaned for the unknown time, stretching your arms above your head as you leaned back in your chair. You’ve spent the past three hours seated by your desk, boring holes at the sheets of papers scattered across your desk. It was a case that could risk or break your chances of getting a promotion—something you’ve been yearning for. Being a detective is not easy, especially when you have criminals who are constantly outsmarting you. 

Fuck it, I’m dealing with this tomorrow. 

Sighing, you start packing up, filing the papers into a clear folder and shut down your laptop. You were the only one left in the office, leaving you the task of shutting off the lights and air-conditioner before leaving. You headed to the basement where your car was waiting for you and you drove off, returning home. 

“...Why are you here?” You deadpanned, standing by the door frame as a familiar figure made himself at home, seated by the dining table with already cooked dishes. 

Jungwon flashed you his signature smile, his dimples showing on his round cheeks. “Why not? I got off work early and decided to surprise you. Why? Don’t you miss me?” He batted his eyelashes at you, laughing when you rolled your eyes. 

“I miss my peace and quiet. It was great having the whole house to myself. What happened anyway? Didn’t you tell me the mission will last for two weeks?” You asked as you removed your shoes, neatly placing them by the side. 

Jungwon rose from his seat, approached you to help in taking your things and placed them on the coffee table. “It finished earlier than we expected and Hyung decided to let us have a short break. But enough about me, how was your day, darling?” 

You shot him a glare. “Oh, you know, thanks to a certain someone, I had to stay behind, trying to figure out what his main goal is.” 

Humming, he steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your left shoulder, slightly swaying you side to side. “Sounds like you’re under lots of pressure, love. Perhaps you need to destress.” 

He coos, hands subtly snaking its way underneath your clothes, tracing the outline of your body. Goosebumps formed on your body when his warm hands touched your skin. You looked over your shoulder, arching an eyebrow. 

“And what do you have in mind?” You questioned. 

The smirk Jungwon gave you was anything but harmless. His eyes twinkled with mischief, a sly smirk stretching across his face. “I’ve an idea.” 

~

“Hah—Wonie—oh fuck,” you cried out, your back arching off the bed as you gripped onto both the pillow and his hair with your hands. 

Your legs were slung over his broad shoulders, spread open for him like you were the main dish served to him on a silver platter. Your back arched off the bed at a particularly harsh suck of your clit, digging your feet onto your boyfriend’s back to ground yourself. You weren’t sure how much time had passed. It could be minutes or hours but you couldn’t care. Not when Jungwon was eating you out like there was no tomorrow. You rocked your hips against his mouth, breathless moans and whimpers fell from your lips. 

You felt the familiar ache in your stomach and how your muscles tightened. “Fuck—Wonie, please, please,” you mewled, wanting to be free from this sweet torture your boyfriend was putting you through. 

Much to your utter horror, frustration and disbelief, Jungwon moved away. He chuckled at the desperation written all over your face and just to be a tease, he rolled your puffy clit in slow circles, grinning at how your legs twitched. 

“Nuh uh, I don’t think you deserve to cum, sweetheart,” he clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

His words made you sobbed out loud, tears of frustration prickled your eyes. “Why!?” 

Jungwon hums. “Because you didn’t solve the case. How about you tell me where you stopped and I’ll help you out. If you can answer me correctly, you can cum. How does that sound?” 

Your left eyebrow subtly twitched, unable to believe what he was saying. “Jungwon, I swear to god—!?”

The rest of your words died in your throat when he pushed two fingers in and you instinctively clenched down on the sudden intrusion. Your eyes rolled up at the feeling of him twisting his fingers in just the right angle, hitting the spot that made you see stars. As quick as it happened, Jungwon pulled his fingers out, eliciting a disappointed sound of protest from you. 

“First question: how far are you into your investigation?” He questioned, calm and collected while you, on the other hand, were a mess. 

It was already hard for you to process his question, especially when he thought it was a great idea to kiss your inner thighs, touching you everywhere but your poor neglected and throbbing clit. Your breath caught in your throat, heart beating in anticipation when you felt his hot breath grazing against your clit, only to let out a startled yelp when he pinched your thigh. 

“Hey, I’m asking you a question, you know. What? Don’t tell me you’re already fucked out?” He mocks you, moving his fingers down to brush them against your clit, slowly spreading your folds apart and blowing hot air at it, savoring the way you squeaked. 

“Imagine how your superior will react if they were to see their brightest, smartest and intelligent detective getting defiled by the very same criminal she’s tasked to go after,” he continues, emphasizing some of his words with him moving his long, thick and slender fingers in a scissors-like movement, making your mind reeled from the delirious feeling. 

“Ngh, I—I’ve figured out—hah—your patterns, oh god,” you breathed out, gripping onto the sheets for dear life as Jungwon ducked his head to lap away at your clit, collecting your slick to spread them all over your puffy folds. 

As far as you were aware, you have been edged for the past one or two hours and all it took was for a few simple licks with his skillful tongue for you to push you over the edge. Your body shook vigorously from your orgasm, limbs twitching and spasming about as Jungwon drinks it all, not letting a single drop go to waste. 

You knew you were in deep trouble when you caught how Jungwon’s eyes darkened a shade. You nervously gulped, watching as he moved upwards, hands resting on both sides of your head. You felt small under his intense, unwavering gaze and you squirmed about on the sheets. A gasp left your lips when he gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“Looks like you disobeyed my order. I hope you’ve prepared yourself,” he warned. 

~ 

The next day, you arrived at your office feeling more exhausted than usual. It was a miracle that no one noticed how you were limping as you made your way to the pantry area. 

“(Name), how’s the progress on the investigation going?” Your superior asked, startling the lights out of you as you were in the midst of preparing a cup of coffee for yourself. 

Turning around, you plastered what you hoped was a convincing smile. “Ah, I’m almost there and I just need a little more time before I can catch them, sir.” 

Your superior nodded, pleased with your response and left you alone. You sighed, hand tracing the hickey left on your neck—concealed by a layer of makeup. 

Bzzt, bzzt. 

Feeling your phone vibrating in your pocket, you pulled out the device to see it was a text message from Jungwon. Ensuring no one was nearby, you opened your conversation to see two simple messages: 

Hi love, just want to let you know that we’ll be committing a crime tonight at: XXX - XX - XXXX. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ love you

Catch me if you can, detective ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)✨

[holylulusworld]

How to cure a grump (6)

Summary: You’re losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: grumpy Bucky, mistaken identity, kinda fake dating trope, snowed-in trope, mom plays matchmaker, needy/cuddly bucky

How to cure a grump (5)

How to cure a grump masterlist

Bucky’s hands didn’t wander, but he did. You wake to him snuggled in your back, playing the big spoon. His face is in your neck, and his arms are wrapped tightly around your body.

“You’ve got to be shitting me, Barnes,” you huff loudly, frustrated. He nuzzles your neck and whispers pet names you never wanted to hear leave his lips. “Let go of me. I’m not one of your one-nighters.”

Bucky mutters in his sleep before moving impossibly closer to press himself against you. “Doll,” he whispers lowly. “Hmm…so soft.”

“BARNES!”

He stiffens behind you but doesn’t move. “HUH?” Bucky clears his throat and slowly releases you. He moves to the edge of the bed, grumbling under his breath.

“That is enough! I let you sleep the alcohol off, but you had to get handsy. This is not some rom-com movie. You’re still the asshole firing me before Christmas. Now get out of my bed.”

“You’re loud and grumpy in the morning,” he snickers but hisses soon after. “My head hurts, and I’m still stuck here. The only person I call family ignores me on Christmas, and you’re not nice.”

“You’re a whiny man-child when hungover,” you bite back as you slowly sit up. “What do I have to do to get rid of you?”

Bucky looks over his shoulder, giving you puppy dog eyes. He doesn’t say a word when he slowly gets up to leave your room.

You huff. Now you feel bad—but why? He’s the villain in this story, not you. Bucky fired you, hijacked your Christmas vacation, and cuddled you. How dare he act like the victim!

“Morning, James,” your mother coos while offering coffee to your unwelcome guest. You only shake your head as they easily fall into a conversation. How Bucky enchants people around him will be forever a mystery to you. “What do you want?”

“He’s hungover,” you grumble and claim your favorite seat at the kitchen counter. “Mr. Barnes wanted to have a drink last night and fell into the bottle.”

“James, that’s no reason to be ashamed,” your mother softly says. She pats his hands and offers a warm smile. “Holidays can be hard without your family. I know how you feel.”

Sighing deeply, you try to ignore the ball of fury growing inside of you. Bucky wormed his way into your mother’s heart, and you don’t know how to tell her she won’t see him again after this Christmas.

“Munchkin, stop making that face,” your mother tuts. “I know it’s not nice if your man gets drunk, but he had a moment of weakness last night.”

“A moment of weakness. Right,” you sniff and look at the cup of tea your mother offers to you. “We all have these moments.” Before you can say something wrong, you take a sip of your tea. “Let’s hope there will be no more of these moments.”

“But you liked it, cuddle bug,” Bucky dares to step behind you to wrap his arms around you. You have to admit, he plays his role well. “I get all needy when drunk, and you love to take care of me.”

“You two,” your mother sniffles. “Oh my, you are like my Y/F/N and me when we first met. You’re too sweet to handle.”

“Mom.” You make a face. Bucky still hasn’t let go of you, and your mother is all too happy to see him with you. “What are your plans for today?”

“It’s time to unpack the gifts,” she smiles, and you can’t help but smile back. She’s so happy having you and Bucky at home. You don’t have the heart to disappoint her by revealing the truth. “But first—” she smirks, we will eat our breakfast.”

“Mom, that’s too much,” you sniffle as you look at the thoughtful gift. “I told you to not waste so much money on me.”

“I know you wanted the (the gift you wanted) for years. Because you didn’t buy it for yourself, I got it for you.”

Bucky watches you hug each other. Your mother whispers something in your ear, and you choke on unshed tears. He assumes it must have something to do with your father.

It takes a few moments before you can part. You wipe your eyes and kiss your mother’s cheek. “I love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, munchkin,” your mother sniffles and points at the gifts under the tree. “Oh, I got something for you too, James. I don’t know you well, but I hope you’ll like it.”

“Mrs. Y/L/N, you shouldn’t have—” Bucky swallows thickly when you grab a gift and push it into his arms. You glare at him, silently telling him to not hurt your mother. “That’s very kind of you.”

“You’re my munchkin’s special one,” your mother replies with a wink. “It’s my pleasure to get you a gift.”

Bucky nods as you tell him to open the gift. He rips it open, laughing as a scarf, a pair of warm socks, and hand gloves fall out of the wrapping paper.

“You’re stuck here for a while, and I thought you’d need it.” Bucky picks up his gifts. He smiles because someone he barely knows made him a thoughtful gift.

“Thank you, these are great,” his voice sounds odd when you look at him. “I got nothing for you. I-I…” He stammers and nervously looks at you. “I came here unprepared and got nothing for you.”

“Jamie, that’s alright,” Bucky gasps when your mother wraps him in a hug. He’s not used to people being kind to him. “You’re part of the family now. That’s the best gift.”

He looks at you for help, furrowing his brows as your mother pats his back.

“We are huggers in this family,” you awkwardly reply as Bucky hugs your mother back. “You should get used to it.”

“Oh, I got an idea!” Your mother suddenly says. She smirks while looking at you. “While I take care of dinner, you and Y/N can go to town. Y/N loves ice skating.”

“MOM!” You groan. “Please. I don’t think Bucky wants to go figure skating with me. It’s cold, and he’s not very…”

“I’d love to,” Bucky hastily says. “Figure skating is great.” He grins, and you swear, he looks like a handsome devil when he says, “Especially with my lovely Y/N.”

You are fuming once again. Bucky played you well, but you will pay him back. He won’t smile any longer if he landed on his ass on the ice for the first time…

[hungermakesmonsters]

(It Is) What It Is

Sneak Peek

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

A/N : Here's the first little sneak peek at my next Billy fic. I'm going with something slightly different for the reader character this time, so I hope you like what I've got planned. The first chapter will be posted on the 31st of January, and I'll be updating weekly. If you've already asked to be tagged, I'll tag you in the first chapter!

Sneak Peek

“Good morning, Mr Russo,” you said, heading towards his desk. “I’ve got your morning coffee and a couple of bear claws, and Mr Castle is waiting outside for your morning meeting.”

“Thank you,” he said, lingering at the window a moment longer before finally turning towards you. “Can you send Frank in and grab the files I asked you to prepare yesterday?”

“Of course, sir.”

You did as you were asked, sending Mr Castle in while you got the files from your desk. By the time you made it back into Mr Russo’s office, both men were perched on his desk, drinking their coffees and eating bear claws.

“However much he’s payin’ you, it’s not enough,” Mr Castle grinned at you, and that had the forced smile on your lips becoming something far more genuine.

It wasn’t so much that Mr Russo didn’t appreciate what you did for him - you knew that he did - it was more that he wasn’t particularly vocal about it. But you’d heard the horror stories of the PAs who’d come before you, the ones who’d quit mere weeks into working for him. At first you’d feared that it was him, that he was impossible to work for, but you’d quickly figured out that he wasn’t impossible, just... difficult. 

There was a lot of reading between the lines when it came to Billy Russo, and a lot of your time was spent trying to anticipate what he might want or need at any given time; when he was in a bad mood you’d found that food often helped, and frustration was usually mitigated by redirecting him towards smaller, easier to deal with tasks to distract him.

It wasn’t easy but you’d figured him out and, now, things ran pretty smoothly.

“Here you go,” you said, placing the files on his desk beside him. “I took the liberty of colour coding them; the green tabs are the ones most likely to want to engage Anvil’s services based on the research, orange means they could be convinced, and -”

“And what about red?” Mr Russo asked, pulling a file from the bottom of the stack.

The only file with a red tab.

“Red means it’s extremely unlikely that they would choose to offer Anvil a contract and that they’re probably not worth the money and resources that it might take to change their mind,” you explained, trying to sound as clinical as possible.

“And why do you think the Van Der Koy family wouldn’t be interested in contracting with Anvil?” He asked.

Immediately your cheeks started to heat as you tried to find the easiest (read: safest) way to explain it.

The Van Der Koy’s were old money, with dozens of high end resorts, hotels and casinos across North America. They were a literal goldmine for anyone who got to work with them. Landing a security contract with them would be worth millions of dollars, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that that was the file that Mr Russo wanted to concentrate on.

But how were you supposed to tell him that he was the reason the Van Der Koy’s would never work with Anvil?

“Well, the Van Der Koy’s have very old fashioned family values - it’s not about the money, it’s all about appearances and reputation...” you said.

“And what’s wrong with Anvil’s reputation?” Mr Russo prompted.

“It’s not Anvil...” you tried to explain, your voice turning quiet.

“Then what?” He asked, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone.

“Jesus, Bill,” Frank said through a mouthful of pastry. “She’s tryin’ to be polite.”

There was a silence for a few moments before Mr Russo finally seemed to realise what was being said.

“You’re saying that they won’t contract with Anvil because of my reputation?” He asked, and you gave the smallest of nods. “What’s wrong with my reputation?”

“Sir, I really don’t think -”

“You can’t expect her to answer that,” Frank said, speaking at the same time as you.

He looked from you to Mr Castle and back again, as if he really had no clue what you could possibly mean.

“I won’t get angry or blame you,” Mr Russo said. “I just want to know what you know.”

You didn’t want to answer, but you knew that you had to.

“Well, from what I was able to learn, it’s... it’s everything,” you said, unable to even look him in the eye as you explained. “The parties, the women - it sends a certain, uh... message...”

It felt like his gaze was burning into you as you fixed your eyes on his desk and the stack of files.

“What message?” He asked.

“She’s sayin’ the uptight, old money folks don’t like that you’re a fuck-boy who spends all his time with bimbos, Bill,” Mr Castle answered for you. “Now, could you stop makin’ her feel uncomfortable about it and let her do her damned job?”

[tricksh0t]

helping hand (Hamburger Helper)

jaime lannister x m reader

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ dw about the hamburger helper its a joke

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 2.14k

cw: handjob, frotting, spit, sub Jaime, dubcon, swearing

Jaime is stressed. Actually, Jaime Lannister is stressed, because all his troubles seem to stem from his house duties.

Jaime knew that his father, Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King, seasoned army commander, war winner, and expert at giving disappointed looks was likely to strip him of his titles and send him back to Casterly Rock to continue the family line if he so much as made a single mistake, even going as far as taking back his words of disowning him, now that his little brother, Tyrion, was a very persecuted criminal. A breeding mare, he would be, because as much as Jaime hates to think about it, he is a one-handed knight who lost his sword hand.

If there's something he has, it's his cock, and it works; but he can't say it stands proud anymore, because his secret sister-wife Cersei denies him so much as a hand and he is nothing but blisteringly loyal to her.

So here he is, sexually, emotionally and physically frustrated, without his usual duties to fulfill like flaunting his sword.

The only thing that's not Lannister about his troubles is actually Tyrell, or rather, the cocky knight his new to-be-in-laws have brought with them from Hightower to become part of the King's Guard, you.

Already, you think yourself a God not to be fucked with, the second coming of Ser Meryn Trant, not for the asshole's skill but for his arrogance and blatant discourtesy.

What you have over Ser Meryn is actual skill as a swordsman, something you are right to be proud of, if you weren't so arrogant about it. Then there's your looks.

The Tyrells and Hightower love to be pretty. Margaery is a good match for his son already, despite what Cersei says, she is pretty on the outside as well as the inside. Loras, the Knight of the Flowers, is a popular bachelor, even though he has apparent, different tastes, he knows how to use his looks to fool a girl for his house duty. Olenna, though old, still decorates herself with the finest dresses and jewelry, almost as if it is second nature to her.

Naturally, you must be pretty too. You're not a Hightower kind of pretty, though, you're handsome, more rugged, scarred. You wear the Tyrell colors, their embroidery, their style, and yet you remain in Jaime's eye different.

It's too bad you're an asshole. He might've been good friends with you.

Jaime doesn't know why he's thinking about you while he's doing this. Initially, he'd just screwed his eyes shut to try to empty his mind and think of better things.

He tries to drift his attention towards what he usually likes, another's soft hands he's proud to have kept soft; long, flowing, and wavy blonde hair, emerald green eyes; but then he finds himself thinking of you again.

Rough hands that might just feel good on him, short hair, narrowed, mocking eyes, and another mocking smile to accompany them. Then muscles beneath armor, then muscles beneath nothing, then sweat and that sword hand wrapped around your sword and then imaginatively, wrapped around his cock.

And it's getting him off.

Imagining the hand he's got around him is yours is a filthy, guilty pleasure he'll never admit to, but it only helps that it's his left hand, because it feels foreign.

"Need a hand?"

Jaime jumps. His eyes snap open and he flings his hand away, only to sloppily pull up the sheets of his bed to cover himself decently.

"Just what are you doing here?" He asks, because he knows you've heard of knocking.

Evidently, you spy on the fact he hasn't gone soft. You continue taking steps forward. "I asked you a question first."

Jaime steels his dignity to speak next, "Jerking off is a one-handed thing, I'm afraid."

"Not going to take my so very kind offer?" You only stop nearing when you get to the edge of his bed.

You look down on him like you're in some position of power over him, even though he has all levels of seniority on you, because that is how you are. Cocky and arrogant and self-entitled.

Jaime sits up, but you push him back down, placing a hand on the unlaced front of his sleeping tunic, on his chest. His weak flesh hand comes up to fight yours, clutching at your wrist. His gold-plated, heavy hand is useless, and thus though he may not surrender, he cannot push you away.

You suddenly place your other hand beside his head, making him jump pathetically, but he is unable to go elsewhere as you lean down to whisper, "Let's not pretend that you do not fancy me, Kingslayer."

Your hand plays the part of a seductress, pushing his tunic loose around the top to caress at his hairless, toned chest. A warm touch, and he was right: a rough one too, the pads of your fingers are calloused.

"You swore an oath when you joined the King's Guard."

"You did too."

Jaime clicks his tongue at your audacity, looking up at you with narrowed eyes. You only return a smirk, that damned smirk, audacious and playful.

And then the seductress trails a path down the line between his pecs, down his sternum and abdomen, slipping below the covers to do so.

Jaime doesn't fight this time, in fact he lets go of your hand, and you can tell it's because he wants it.

His narrowed eyes change expressions, from an angry glare into a look that tells you he's watching you.

They only narrow further when you lift his tunic to trail your fingers not around his cock like you know he wants it, but down his happy trail. You take your sweet time swirling the short, thick hairs around your fingers in circles, thumbing at the end of the trail and the beginning of the tactile, trimmed bush. You switch from your whole hand to two fingers, tracing down the messy, crooked trail until you're almost at the base of his length.

Jaime is about to complain about how you edge right around it, but then you're suddenly grasping the base in one full hand.

He gasps.

Rough, is his first thought. Rough because of how tough the palm of your hand is, calloused and worked, and rough because you spare him no mercy in how tight you grip him.

"Softer, ass–" Your eyes silence him, that smirk again, you're in control of his pleasure. Jaime sighs, "please."

The pleasure lighting up in your gaze brings him no pleasure, not until you move your hand and, "Shit."

He tries to keep stoic, biting his lip to keep his mouth closed. It's a fight in it of itself, one he can fight. Though he has lost his swordsmanship, he has not lost the discipline and endurance that come with it.

However, the simple motion of your hand makes him want to roll his eyes back, even though you're barely doing him any good.

Already an electric shock fires through his body. His left hand feels foreign, yes, but it is slow and the fog of pleasure forming in his mind would make it sloppy. Your hand is perfect; actually foreign, big and motivated.

Jaime hasn't been the best swordsman in Westeros in a long time, and so he finds that he is losing his patience. The sexual frustration and this very moment are evidence of it, because he finds pleasure in all of it.

When your face leaves his view, it makes his eyes refocus. He looks down at you as you lean over his cock and not take it in your mouth, but let your spit drool over it.

"Fuck."

It's a sight, the new asshole of the Red Keep pleasuring him willingly, eagerly at that.

You spread the drool over his length evenly, but then only pay attention to his tip, thumb pressing against the slit and swirling.

His hand finds the back of your neck, an outward, sudden thing through the fog of pleasure and unmediated strength. "Don't make this impersonal, at least."

"If you can sit a while, darling."

Jaime rolls his eyes, but sits back and waits.

He's seen your body before, your boundless muscles and scarce scars, but of course he hasn't seen your cock.

You don't make a show for it, but his anticipation only makes things feel slower as he watches you undress. Just the faulds and scale groin guard, and then your pants and underwear, and the wait is much too long.

He reaches out to help, but you push his hand back against the headboard roughly. Jaime scoffs, and you only laugh in turn.

"Asshole."

You take your time, and Jaime takes his to watch. He bites his lip at the sight of your V line, but he focuses more on your hairy happy trail, lets his eyes follow it down the more you expose.

Your cock slaps your abdomen when you finally free it, and Jaime has to bite back an exclamation when he sees it.

He hadn't noticed, but precum had been dripping down his length as he watched. You press the tip of your cock against it, against his, collecting and spreading the pre around the both of you.

Jaime groans.

"Is it personal now?"

"Uh-huh." Jaime huffs breathlessly, eyes glued to what you're doing to him.

You straddle his legs and slowly press your cocks together lengthwise. He has no time to dwell on the size difference, before you're wrapping your hand around the both of you at the same time.

Jaime's breaths grow to match the pace of your hand, slow for now. His eyes close.

"Jaime."

"Hm?" Lazily, they open once more, only to widen when you part his lips and keep them open with your thumb at the corner of his lip.

Drool gathers at the bottom of his mouth forcibly, and he can't do much about it, not until you tell him to spit into your hand.

With his mind truly lost now, he obeys, and you soon spit into the same hand and use the mix to continue jerking the two of you off.

It's disgusting, a mix of your spit and his that will soon be accompanied by both of your seeds.

There's a wet squelch each time your hand reaches the top again, and that's disgusting too.

It's disgusting, but a part of him feels like he's missed this. A foreign hand, a sexual partner, pleasure like he's never had before, and he could only ever want more.

It's disgusting, but it's so fucking good.

Jaime's hips buck into your hand, wanting more and only more.

You're not selfish, either. The attention you pay to his cock makes it swell all the harder. It's almost as if you're servicing him, and only him.

When you add more spit into the mess, right on the tip of his cock, he yelps. His hand reaches for your wrist, and yet it does nothing to stop you.

He can't stop the moans from spilling from his mouth anymore, a steady "uh uh uh".

The coil in the pit of his stomach turns and turns, coiling and making him clench his stomach. He's close, so very close.

More pre weeps from the tip of his cock, and you swirl your finger around the tip, spreading it around.

Jaime's eyes focus once more on the movement. He winces, "Please."

But you're an asshole and he's forgotten that.

You wrap your hand around the both of you weakly, languidly dragging it up and down your cocks. It's not enough for him, not after how mind-blowing you were, not while he knows how mind-blowing you could be.

In a spurt of determination, Jaime's hand wraps right around yours.

No longer weak, his left hand guides the movement again, rough and fast that has his reactive hips bucking in tandem too.

You're very clearly amused but he does nothing about it.

No, he's in control now, doesn't need you.

Jaime chases after his pleasure, as he deems he rightfully deserves. He uses your hand like a vessel, a puppet, just to get off.

Hips bucking, pre and spit squelching, tip swollen red; it's instinctual, animalistic, the way he chases to snap the coil in his stomach with no regard for his energy.

When Jaime finishes, it's his first in a long time, and it has his entire body going limp.

His cum washes over the both of your lengths, but he's already got his eyes closed when it does. He doesn't know when you finish, only that it's later.

"Do I get a thank you?"

Jaime opens his eyes and looks at your now clothed body, then at his cock. His spit, your spit, his cum, yours. His nose turns up.

"No."

[gibberishfangirl]

WIND BREAKER | squid games

Synopsis ✰ would they survive the squid games, how long, what games they fumbled, etc.

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Kaji Ren, Toma Hiragi, Mitsuki Kiryu, Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama

Contains ✰ sfw!, death mentions, squid games mentioned (obvi), mix of season 1 and 2 games, not meant to be taken seriously, squid games spoilers (no plot spoils but game spoilers), character focused, no reader mentioned (sorryyy, brief mention in kiryu’s), kind hearted!Ume, hero!nirei, choji and jo are stuck together like glue

Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

☆ Sakura is a natural leader so you’d figure these games would be a breeze. they were not. he made it pretty far through but definitely struggled at the mini games challenge. most likely led a rebellion during the entire commotion. finds it stupid that everyone’s expected to follow through on these dumb games for someone else’s entertainment. he’d most likely try to save as many people as he possibly can. passes every game on a whim. definitely is the kind of player who has your heart racing at every moment as he always wins at the very last second. is most likely fucked at the glass bridge challenge. Mingle was also a struggle for him as he wanted to help everyone but also needed to help himself. definitely tried to fight a guard or two a couple times and got himself put in time out. if his friends are put into the same games he’s in he tries a lot harder to win and help them. definitely prioritizes his friends and will make sure they’re okay before he deals with his own fate. definitely gets into a bunch of screaming matches and fights with the yes voters.

Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

☆ similar to Sakura where he prioritizes others over himself. he makes it to final game due to his kindness. he was helpful towards everyone and they wanted to return the favor. definitely helps out the girls and elders who got themselves caught up in this crazy situation. everyone hides behind him during red light green light due to his large figure. he doesn’t mind and encourages them to do so. if his friends are in his games he always ensures their safety. surprisingly good at ddkaji. makes many new friends and creates close connections to those around him. gets very overwhelmed and frustrated when people keep voting to continue the games. stands up for anyone who is getting pushed around or corned. 100% confronts the greedy people who are sacrificing others for the money. gets challenged to a lot of fights but is good enough to dodge all their punches causing them to just to embarrass themselves in front of everyone. lots of women feel safe around him.

Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

☆ he’s such a safe space it’s unreal. he’s so gentle and kind towards everyone there. unless they’re major douche bags, he can see right through their facade. makes it past a good amount of the games. he’s skilled at many things so the games actually happened to be pretty easy for him. he can most likely win the game if it was just himself. if his friends were also there he wouldn’t get as far. not because they’re holding him back but because he cares too much about them to ever bare the idea of taking their place. definitely is the kind of soul who would sacrifice himself during the marble game if it was one of his friends he was playing with. doesn’t engage in any physical fights. he doesn’t see the point in fighting with each other, it’ll just make things worse. doesn’t mean he won’t defend himself or his friends. he only steps up if it’s one of his friends getting threatened, like Nirei. he’ll 100% stand up for him and wipe the floor with that guy.

Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩

☆ if he’s alone without his friends he most likely dies during the killing spree at night. he dies trying to protect the friends he’s made during the games. makes it sadder since he’ll prolly die right before the lights get turned on and before the guards can stop everything. he couldn’t bring himself to just watch as his new comrades were fighting for their lives. however, if his friends are there things go differently. they go out of their way to help him and make sure he’s okay after every round. they definitely support each other and have each others backs during the fight. poor guy has his adrenaline rush at every moment and second of the day. he probably feels like he’s having an heart attack at some times because of it. maybe he actually is. it’s possible with the amount of shock that is entering his body after every event. definitely plays more of a hero role than usual. with the way the adrenaline is always hitting him he gets more bold as the games continue. ready to put himself on the line at any moment he needs to.

Kaji Ren ᡣ𐭩

☆ probably dies within the first game ngl. his hearing has gotten so bad during all his years of blasting music into his ear drums. this makes it really hard for him to actually hear anything during red light green light. due to the robot also yelling every other second it triggers that small ringing in his ear to continue throughout the entire game. might mishear the robot and walk when he wasn’t supposed to. mutters a small “oh shit.” if Hiragi is in the game with him he most likely uses him for cover. especially after getting scolded by Hiragi to stay behind him and not to move until he does. uses others as a guide to know when to move or not. super skeptical for the rest of the games. lwk doesn’t trust anyone except his actual close friends. develops trust issues after this but survives. he can’t stand the amount of greed that can be found in the crowd at times. questions humanity altogether. will join sakura is openly arguing with the yes voters.

Toma Hiragi ᡣ𐭩

☆ he’s making it to the finals. he’s a mix of being skilled and also getting lucky. he definitely carried his team during tug of war but still felt guilty at the aftermath. his win during tug of war was more impressive as he ended up with a weaker team in comparison to the others. he felt bad for them since it looked like no one else wanted to team up with them. he probably ditched whatever group he formed to make sure they had at least someone who can help them. he for sure can be seen being visibly uncomfortable with the situation. he hates how everyone is a pawn in this incredibly sick environment. he for sure had to save Kaji a few times during the games. he tries to ease a lot of the tension. is always the one deescalating the fights whenever he can. or as much as he can. won’t throw the first punch but will help defend his friends no matter what. he definitely keeps a look out for the more weaker players. he hates to see anyone try to take advantage of them or their weaknesses.

Mitsuki Kiryu ᡣ𐭩

☆ every girl’s bodyguard ngl. he’s for sure the type to find an epic romance right in the middle of the games. not the appropriate time to persuade someone but he manages to anyway. it’s too easy for him to swoon people off their feet especially when they’re all alone during mingle and he’s taking the cutest thing he sees and running straight into a room with them hand in hand. he figures if there’s any chance of him going out during this he’s going to experience having a lover before death. he’s just a romantic at heart, he can’t help it. he’s probably really shy and slightly nervous after if both of you survive. his friends are for sure in shock at how he managed to get himself in a relationship at such a bad time. he probably gets pretty far into the games but depending on who he’s with he might not make it all the way. his best game was surprisingly glass bridge. the man’s luck is insane!

Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

☆ this man is glued to Choji’s hip like crazy. He takes the games super seriously and tries his best in all of them. his best games were tug of war and the spinning top. he was surprisingly crazy at the spinning top. he was pretty familiar with most of the games due to Choji always wanting to play some whenever he was bored. the reason he’s with Choji is because he wouldn’t have even joined or found himself in this position if it wasn’t for him. Jo had a “if you do it i’ll do it.” mentality when he first agreed to participate. neither one of them had assumed it would ever be this serious. he looks fine asf in the set ngl. (SORRY NOT SORRY). he has the jacket half zipper, the sleeves slightly pushed up half way past his forearm, you can see his muscles and veins showing as they’re flexed during tug of war. honestly he doesn’t really care about anyone else there. he’s just so focused on choji’s safety he can’t bring himself to worry about others with his hands being full already. however, if Sakura and his friends are there he also cares deeply about Sakura’s safety. he’ll try to help them out whenever he can.

Choji Tomiyama ᡣ𐭩

☆ he’s probably getting swung around all over the place by Togame. he doesn’t really care though he’s still enjoying himself while having his hand in Jo’s and being dragged everywhere. he’s probably laughing to himself in amusement at Jo’s efforts to protect him. unlike Jo he doesn’t take the games seriously. he has fun with them. he figures if anything happens to him he might as well should live in the moment. his favorite game was red light green light. he was definitely skipping during the green light sections. probably swinging his arms around while doing so until Jo would pull him back behind him right before it turned red. he’s always curious about what else is in store for the next event. despite having somewhat fun he never votes yes to continue the game. he gets tired of it quickly and wants to go home after like two games. he also cares a lot about Jo and finds his efforts nice. unlike jo he actually is awful at a lot of the games. despite him being the one to teach jo how to play a lot of them he’s never fully mastered any skills himself.

[lacydollette]

TEAMING UP ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing: exbf!dean x huntress!reader

warnings: heavy tension, mention of guns, dean being cocky, explicit language, lowkey a lil angsty, maybe fluff (?)

Dean moved carefully through the forest, keeping his steps light, always on high alert for any signs of the werewolf pack they were hunting. The brothers had tracked the attacks to this abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere. It was the perfect hideout—isolated, hidden deep in the woods, far enough from any town that no one would hear the screams. His grip tightened on the silver knife in his hand, they were close now.

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Sam wasn't too far behind. They had split up to cover more ground, but something about this hunt felt off. He couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't the only ones out here tonight.

That feeling was confirmed when he heard the faint rustle in the bushes ahead. Instinctively, Dean tensed, his body ready for a fight as he inched closer to the noise. He barely had time to react before something lunged at him, slamming him back against a tree with a force that knocked the breath from his lungs.

Before he could get a grip on what was happening, he felt cold steel press into his chest, and a fierce hand gripping his throat. Whoever had him pinned was strong and definitely a combat master. And as his eyes adjusted to the shadows, he recognized the face glaring up at him.

"y/n?"

His voice came out rough, startled. It had been years since he'd seen you—his ex, the one who'd walked out of his life after you’d both decided your worlds were too dangerous to pull love and feelings into the mix. The one who never left his mind, no matter how much time passed.

You blinked, shock flashing in your eyes before it hardened into something more familiar. You stepped back, releasing him, but the gun stayed firmly in your grip, aimed at him as you spoke. "What the hell are you doing here, Dean?"

Of all people to run into on this hunt, it had to be him. It was like the universe was playing some kind of sick joke on you. You hadn't seen Dean in years, not since you both decided to go separate ways. Too much baggage, too much history. You had moved on. At least, that's what you kept telling yourself.

He rubbed his neck, a small smirk tugging at his lips despite the fact that you had nearly taken him out. "Nice to see you too, y/n. Still got that charming bedside manner, huh?"

Your eyes were cold, all business, just like you had been when you first met on a hunt years ago. You hadn't changed much—still fierce, still sharp, still... fucking beautiful. The moonlight highlighted the determination on your face, and for a second, Dean almost forgot where you two were.

"I nearly shot you," you said frustrated, trying to get rid of the thought of almost killing your ex boyfriend. Dean shrugged, his smirk fading as he let out a breath. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Your jaw clenched, and he could see the wheels turning in your head. He didn't know whether you were more annoyed that he was here or that he'd caught you off guard. Definitely both.

"This is my hunt," you snapped, eyes narrowing at him. "I've been tracking this pack for weeks.", "Yeah, well, so have we," Dean replied, meeting your glare. "Sam and I are here to take them out. Same mission, different day."

Your eyes flashed with anger, and for a second, Dean thought you might shove him back against the tree again. You had always been like this—stubborn, independent, never one to back down. It was one of the things that had drawn him to you in the first place, even if it was also the reason you couldn't make it work. You were too much alike, both hunters, both living lives that didn't leave room for anything or anyone else.

You stepped back, shaking your head. "I don't need your help, Dean. I've got this." Dean crossed his arms, his expression serious now. "Really? You're gonna take on a whole werewolf pack by yourself?"

You glared at him, and he could tell you weren’t in the mood for his questions. But he wasn't about to let you get yourself killed, even if you wanted to do this alone. There were too many of them—he and Sam had already counted at least five, maybe more, and even someone as tough as you couldn't take on that many without backup.

"Look," he said, trying to keep his voice calm, "I know you don't want me here, but we're on the same hunt. Let's take these bastards out together, and then you can go back to pretending I don't exist."

You scoffed, your grip tightening on your gun while you rolled your eyes at him. You didn't need anyone else. You had always worked best alone, and you weren’t about to let anything—or anyone—get in your way. Dean's temper flared for a second, but he held it back. "Look, I'm here to finish the job. That’s it.”

You both stood there, staring each other down, the tension between you thick. It was the same as it had always been, that push and pull that had kept you together—and tore you apart in the end. Eventually you gave in, at least it would be quicker this way, right?

Dean couldn't stop himself from watching you as you approached the barn. You moved like a shadow, silent and sharp, every step calculated, your eyes scanning the area like a hawk. You were damn good—one of the best hunters he knew. But that didn't make him worry any less. The werewolf pack all of you were up against wasn't just dangerous—it was reckless, and there were too many variables that could go wrong. Dean knew that better than anyone.

You had always been independent, always insisted on doing things your way, and normally, Dean respected that. Hell, he admired it. Yet he couldn't shake the knot of worry tightening in his chest.

It felt like old times, like you were slipping back into the partnership you used to have, it was like no time had passed at all. You still got under his skin, still made his heart race in ways he didn't want to admit. And as much as he tried to focus on the hunt, on the job, he couldn't ignore the pull he still felt toward you.

There was unfinished business between you two—there always had been. And deep down, Dean knew that no matter how hard he tried to move on, some part of him would always be tied to you. You weren’t just part of his past. You were part of who he was, whether he liked it or not and he had to keep you safe.

Dean glanced over at you, his jaw tight. "Get behind me." You shot him a look, the fire in your eyes flickering to life. "I don't need you to babysit me, Dean. I've got this." He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his voice steady, but the frustration was bubbling up inside him. "I'm not babysitting you. I just don't want you to get yourself killed." You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him. "You don't think I can handle it?"

"That's not what I'm saying," Dean growled, stepping closer. "I know you can handle it, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna stand here and watch you get torn apart." Your eyes flared with anger. "I don't need your protection."

“y/n I just want yo-“ he started, wanting to explain himself, yet you couldn’t help the frustration growing inside you. You always hated when he got too protective. For some it may seem caring and sweet, which it definitely was, but it made you feel weak, like Dean didn’t trust you. So before he could finish his sentence, you turned on him, shoving him hard against the nearest tree. He stumbled back, surprised, but he didn't resist.

Your arm was pressed against his chest, face just inches apart. "I've been doing this a long time," you hissed, voice low and dangerous. "I don't need you swooping in like some knight in shining armor. I'm not the damsel here, Dean." His lips curved into a smirk, the familiar cocky grin he knew would rile you up even more. "Never said you were, sweetheart. But if you wanted to get rough, all you had to do was ask."

Your eyes narrowed, he was so annoyingly attractive like this. Dean could feel the heat between the two of you rising, the space between you growing smaller, charged with a tension that had been brewing for years. You were still pressed against him, body close enough that he could feel the warmth of you against his chest.

"Don't start with me, Dean," you warned, but your voice had softened, just a fraction. Dean leaned in slightly, his grin still in place. "Who's starting? I'm just trying to be helpful."

You faltered for a split second, and Dean saw it—the brief flash of confusion in your eyes, the way your breath caught in your throat. You felt your pulse quicken, not from the argument, but from the way he was looking at you. That look—the one that always tore down your walls, no matter how hard you fought to keep them up. You hated that about him. Hated how, despite everything that had happened between you, despite how far you had come on your own, he still had this hold over you.

Your grip on his shirt loosened just enough that he could feel the tension in you melting away, little by little. For a moment, you stood there, locked in place, the world around you already forgotten. Dean's eyes flicked down to your lips, and for a split second, he wondered if maybe—just maybe—they could pick up where you two left off, despite everything that had happened.

His eyes pierced yours as you tried to remind yourself of the reasons the two of you didn't work, the reasons you had left. Dean was trouble. He was chaos. But when his eyes had flicked to your lips, every rational thought disappeared. It was like all those years apart hadn't changed anything. You still wanted him, still felt that magnetic pull whenever you two were close like this.

Your breath hitched, and you leaned in, your lips barely an inch from his. The heat between you was undeniable now, thick and electric, pulling both of you closer. Dean could feel his heart pounding in his chest, everything else fading into the background. It was just you and him, like it always had been. But just as you were about to cross that line, a voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Uh, Dean?"

You two immediately jerked apart, snapping back to reality as Sam emerged from the shadows, his face a mix of shock and confusion. His eyes darted between you two, lingering on your form, and the look on his face said it all—he hadn't expected to see you, not after all these years.

"y/n?" Sam's voice was thick with surprise, his brows raised. "What are you doing here?" You quickly pulled yourself together, straightening your stance as you brushed off the tension that had almost swallowed you whole. "Just... hunting," you said coolly, but your voice wavered just enough that you could tell Dean noticed.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to shake off the heat still coursing through him. He shot a quick glance at you, walls back up in an instant. You kept your face neutral, but inside, you were cursing yourself for almost letting it happen. You had almost kissed him. After everything, after all the time you spent trying to move on, you had almost let yourself fall back into Dean’s orbit.

Sam's eyes flicked to his brother, and Dean could see the question there, unspoken but loud. He didn't have an answer for him—not right now. All he knew was that something between you and him had shifted, and no matter how hard you both tried to deny it, you couldn't go back to pretending like nothing had happened.

Not after this.

links: dean winchester masterlist

tags: @gibson-g1rl @beausling @figthoughts @chevroletdean @titsout4jackles @deansbite @sugardean @deansbeer @supernatural-wolfie @hischrrypie @angelicjackles @littlelamy @nuemanfilms @starzify

[staygolden-and-chaotic]

Here's another one, the outsiders boys having to babysit I feel it would be cute n hectic

Sincerely

The greaser who's bad at ideas aka bug

STAWP HI BUG! Okay love this idea.

Sincerely

Someone who barley can write and truly tries to wing it.

_________________________________________________

Darrel Curtis

At first, Darry hesitates when his partner asks him to babysit. He’s already used to wrangling Ponyboy and Sodapop, so the idea of watching over a baby feels like unfamiliar territory. But he agrees because, let’s face it, he’s a total softie when it comes to them.

Before they arrives, Darry goes into full protective mode. He double checks the sharp edges of furniture, hides any dangerous objects, and makes sure the baby’s play area is safe. Soda and Pony think he’s overdoing it and tease him relentlessly.

The moment there dropped off, Darry immediately slips into big brother mode. He approaches babysitting like it’s a job careful, responsible, and always on high alert.

He’s great with his brothers, but with a baby, he’s initially stiff and awkward. Holding them feels like balancing a football, and he’s overly cautious with every move. “Am I doing this right?” becomes his most used phrase of the day.

Seeing Darry struggle, Soda jumps in to help. He’s a natural with kids and instantly gets the baby laughing. Darry watches him and starts to loosen up, slowly building confidence.

To Darry’s surprise (and mild frustration), the baby seems to adore Ponyboy. Every time Pony walks into the room, they giggle and reaches for him, making Darry mutter, “Well, I guess I’m chopped liver.”

When the baby gets fussy, Darry tells them stories about when he was a kid. His deep voice and animated expressions captivate them, and soon enough, there calm and smiling.

At some point, things inevitably go wrong. The baby manages to knock over a bowl of cereal or spill juice on his shirt. Darry sighs but quickly cleans up, grumbling about how “this is harder than roofing.”

Getting them to nap is a whole ordeal. Darry tries rocking them, singing softly, and even reading them one of Pony’s books. When nothing works, he finally gets Soda to lend a hand, and together they manage to get the baby to sleep.

Once there asleep, Darry can’t help but feel a wave of pride. He watches the baby sleep for a moment, realizing he’s not as bad at this babysitting thing as he thought.

When his partner comes to pick up the baby , they find Darry on the floor playing peek-a-boo. They teases him about how good he is with kids, and his ears turn red. “It’s no big deal,” he mumbles, trying to play it cool.

Despite his initial reluctance, Darry secretly enjoyed the experience. Later, he jokes to Soda and Pony that babysitting is harder than dealing with a gang fight, but they catch the small smile on his face.

Sodapop Curtis

When his partner asks him to babysit there baby sister, Sodapop is all in. He’s confident, saying, “Babies love me. This’ll be a breeze!” His natural charm and easygoing attitude make him feel like he’s got it under control.

The second the baby is dropped off, Soda crouches to her level and starts playing peek-a-boo. She giggles instantly, and he grins, already winning her over.

Soda is an absolute pro without even trying. He carries the baby around like he’s been doing it forever, bouncing her on his hip and chatting with her like she’s an old friend.

He’s full of energy, so he spends the first hour making goofy faces, crawling around on the floor, and chasing her with a stuffed animal. The baby is laughing so hard she gets the hiccups.

When he runs out of actual toys, Soda starts grabbing random household items a wooden spoon, a shoelace, and even an empty cereal box to entertain her. Somehow, it works like a charm.

He tries to read her a children’s book, but halfway through, he starts making up his own silly story. It’s full of exaggerated voices and wild gestures, which keeps the baby mesmerized.

At some point, Soda turns on the radio and starts dancing with the baby in his arms. He spins her around, and she squeals with delight. Pony walks in and shakes his head, muttering, “You’re ridiculous.”

When it’s snack time, Soda carefully feeds her small bites of food while pretending each spoonful is an airplane or a train. He ends up with more food on his shirt than in her mouth, but he doesn’t mind.

When she gets fussy, Soda knows exactly what to do. He gently rocks her while humming a tune, pacing around the house until she calms down. He even lets her play with his hair, despite her pulling it a little too hard.

Darry and Pony can’t resist checking in. Darry watches for a minute, impressed, while Pony teases, “You’re gonna make a great dad someday, Soda.” Soda just grins and says, “I know!”

Unlike Pony, Soda handles diaper changes like a champ. He jokes to the baby, “This ain’t my first rodeo, kid,” even though it probably is. Somehow, he manages to keep it neat and quick.

When it’s nap time, Soda grabs a blanket and lays on the couch with the baby on his chest. He hums softly, and she falls asleep almost immediately. He stays there, not wanting to disturb her, and quietly dozes off himself.

When his partner arrives, they finds Soda asleep on the couch with the baby snuggled up on him. Soda wakes up groggily and just gives her that charming grin.

After they leave, Pony and Darry tease him mercilessly, saying he’s basically already a dad. Soda just shrugs and says, “What can I say? I’ve got a gift.”

Ponyboy Curtis

Ponyboy has zero experience with babies, so when his partner asks him to babysit there baby sister, he’s immediately nervous but agrees because he wants to impress her.

The night before, Pony stays up reading a book about babysitting. He even asks Darry for advice, which Darry delivers with a smirk: “Just don’t drop her, Pony.”

Soda reassures him in the morning, saying, “You’ll be fine, Pony. Babies are just tiny humans with drool.” This somehow doesn’t make him feel better.

The moment his girlfriend drops her off, Pony realizes how small the baby is. He’s extra cautious, holding her like she’s made of glass. But when she starts crying, he panics and runs to Soda for help.

Pony tries to entertain her by reading Gone with the Wind, but the baby is more interested in chewing on the pages than listening. He quickly swaps the book out for a rattle.

When she starts crying again, Pony picks her up and starts pacing. He talks to her about his brothers, the gang, and even his favorite movies. To his surprise, she quiets down and stares at him like she’s actually listening.

While the baby is playing with her toys, Pony tries to sneak in some writing time. Unfortunately, she gets fussy every time he looks away, so he has to ditch his notebook and give her his full attention.

Pony is absolutely blown away by how adorable the baby is. When she giggles or reaches for his face, he can’t help but smile and play peek-a-boo with her, despite feeling silly.

At one point, Dally stops by and sees Pony struggling. He smirks and says, “Just let her cry it out, Ponyboy. Babies need tough love.” Pony ignores him completely and shoos him away.

Pony’s artistic side kicks in when he starts drawing silly pictures for the baby. She claps her hands excitedly at the funny doodles, and he feels a little proud that he can make her happy.

When the baby needs a diaper change, Pony freezes in horror. He calls out for Soda, but Soda just laughs and says, “It’s all you, Pony!” After some fumbling and gagging, he manages to get it done, though he swears never to do it again.

After hours of playing and entertaining her, the baby finally falls asleep in his arms. Pony sits on the couch, afraid to move in case he wakes her up. He can’t help but feel a little proud of himself.

When his partner comes to pick up there sister, they find Pony sitting quietly with the baby asleep in his arms. There melts on the spot, calling him “the sweetest.” Pony’s cheeks turn red as he mumbles, “It wasn’t a big deal.”

As soon as his partner leaves, Darry and Soda jump at the chance to tease him. “Looks like you’re a natural, Ponyboy,” Soda says with a wink. Pony rolls his eyes but secretly feels a bit proud.

Johnny Cade

He’s hesitant at first. He’s never babysat before and doesn’t feel confident, but he agrees because he wants to help her out and because he secretly loves kids.

When the baby is dropped off, Johnny is shy but gentle. He kneels down to her level and gives her a small smile, saying, “Hey there, kiddo.” She stares at him for a moment before giggling, which makes him relax a bit.

Johnny triple checks everything to make sure it’s safe. He keeps the baby’s toys nearby, makes sure there’s nothing sharp within reach, and keeps looking over his shoulder to make sure she’s okay.

Johnny sits on the floor with her and carefully hands her toys one by one. He’s soft spoken, quietly narrating what he’s doing to keep her entertained. “This one’s a bear. You like bears, right?”

The first time the baby laughs at something he does probably making a funny face Johnny’s whole demeanor brightens. He starts trying different little tricks to keep her giggling.

Anytime the baby stumbles while crawling or gets fussy, Johnny is there in a heartbeat, making sure she’s okay. He’s super attentive, constantly keeping an eye on her.

Johnny grabs one of Ponyboy’s books and starts reading softly to the baby. His quiet voice soothes her, even if she doesn’t understand the words. He feels proud when she snuggles into him during the story.

When the baby starts crying for no apparent reason, Johnny panics a little. He tries everything rocking her, giving her a toy, even singing softly. Eventually, he figures out she just wanted her bottle and feels relieved.

As the baby starts to calm down, she reaches for Johnny’s face, touching his cheeks and hair. He chuckles nervously but lets her, feeling an unexpected warmth at how much trust she has in him.

When it’s time to change her diaper, Johnny freezes and quietly mutters, “I can do this. I can do this.” He ends up calling Ponyboy for help, and together they manage to get it done, with plenty of laughter and gagging involved.

When it’s time for her nap, Johnny rocks her gently in his arms, humming a soft tune. His soothing presence works wonders, and she falls asleep against his chest. He feels a mix of pride and relief.

when the gang finds out, Dally teases Johnny, saying, “Didn’t know you had it in you, Johnnycake.” Johnny just shrugs with a small smile, secretly proud of how well he did.

Dallas Winston

“ A baby? C’mon, babe, I’m not a damn nanny.” But they gives him that look, and Dally, despite his tough-guy exterior, can’t say no.

Dally doesn’t plan anything. He figures, “How hard can it be?” Spoiler: It’s harder than he thought.

The baby stares at him the moment there dropped off, and Dally stares right back. “What’re you lookin’ at, kid?” he mutters.

Dally refuses to use baby talk. Instead, he talks to her like she’s one of his friends. “Alright, kid, let’s get this over with. Don’t cry, and we’ll be fine.”

Within minutes, the baby is crawling everywhere, pulling on things, and grabbing at his leather jacket. Dally sighs, picks her up, and says, “You’re a real handful, you know that?”

Dally ends up entertaining her in the most Dallas way possible. He tosses her in the air (carefully, of course) and makes silly faces while pretending he’s too cool to care. She squeals with laughter, and he secretly loves it.

He tries feeding her but has no patience for the mess. When she throws her food on the floor, he groans and mutters, “You’re worse than Two-Bit after a bender.” Still, he cleans it up though he grumbles the whole time.

At some point, Dally teaches the baby something mischievous, like how to stick her tongue out or the middle finger . When she copies him, he grins proudly. “You’re gonna be a little hood, just like me.”

When the baby starts crying out of nowhere, Dally freezes. “What the hell do you want?!” he blurts out, pacing the room. He tries bouncing her awkwardly and even calls Johnny for advice. Eventually, he figures out she just needed her stuffed animal.

Despite his tough exterior, Dally has a natural way with the baby. When she gets tired, he sits on the couch, holding her against his chest, quietly humming an old tune. He doesn’t even realize how gentle he’s being.

Two-Bit and Johnny stop by and immediately start teasing Dally about being a babysitter. “Never thought I’d see the day,” Two-Bit says, laughing. Dally chases them out, muttering, “Idiots.”

When the baby finally falls asleep, Dally feels like he’s won a battle. He sits still, afraid to move, and mumbles, “You’re lucky you’re cute, kid.”

When his partner comes back, they finds Dally holding the baby, who’s still asleep. They raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” Dally shrugs and says, “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”

Dally plays it cool. “Babies are easy,” he says with a smirk, leaving out the chaotic moments. But they all know he’s secretly a softie when it comes to people he cares about.

Steve Randle

He immediately says, “Of course I can handle it! How hard could it be?” He’s convinced he’s going to be the best babysitter ever.

When the baby is dropped off, Steve tries to impress his partner by acting super confident. “See? She already loves me!” he says as the baby stares at him. She immediately pulls on his hair, and Steve laughs it off like it’s no big deal.

Steve spends the first ten minutes holding the baby and telling her all about cars. “This is an engine,” he says, showing her a car magazine “Someday, I’ll teach you how to fix one.”

It doesn’t take long for the baby to start crawling around and getting into things. Steve tries to keep up, muttering, “You’re faster than I thought, kid.”

Steve’s idea of babysitting is showing the baby all the “cool” things he can do, like balancing a spoon on his nose or spinning her toy in the air. She claps her hands excitedly, and he beams. “Told ya I’m good at this!”

When it’s time to feed her, Steve ends up making a mess. He tries to feed her while making airplane noises, but she smacks the spoon, and the food goes flying. “Okay, that’s on you, not me,” he says, laughing.

At one point, Steve pulls out a small wrench and pretends to “teach” the baby how to fix things. “This is how you tighten a bolt,” he says. The baby grabs the wrench and tries to chew on it, and he quickly swaps it for a teething toy.

When the inevitable diaper change comes, Steve groans. “Alright, how bad could it- OH, COME ON!” He powers through, making faces and jokes the whole time, but he’s gagging the entire time.

Steve grabs a comb and a piece of paper, making a makeshift kazoo. He plays silly tunes for the baby, who giggles and bounces along. He grins and says, “You’ve got good taste, kid.”

When the baby starts crying and he can’t figure out why, Steve calls Sodapop for advice. “What do I do? She’s crying, and I’ve tried everything!” Soda calmly tells him to check if she’s tired or needs her stuffed animal. Steve follows the advice, and it works like a charm.

As much as Steve acts like he’s all about fun, he has a sweet, nurturing side. When the baby starts to get sleepy, he gently rocks her and hums quietly, surprising even himself with how natural it feels.

When his partner comes they smiles and say “Looks like you had fun.” Steve grins and says, “Told ya I could handle it.”

Twobit Mathews

Twobit grins and says, “I’ll have her cracking up in no time. I’m basically a comedian for babies.” He’s way too confident for someone with no experience.

The second the baby is dropped off, TwoBit starts pulling faces and making silly noises. The baby stares at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “See? Told ya I’m a natural,” he says proudly.

TwoBit immediately gets distracted playing with the baby’s toys himself. “This thing spins? That’s wild!” The baby doesn’t mind she just watches him with wide eyed fascination.

When it’s time to feed her, Two-Bit pretends to host a cooking show. “And here we have the finest mashed peas, perfect for a baby connoisseur.” He ends up with food on his shirt, but the baby thinks it’s hilarious.

TwoBit turns on cartoons, claiming it’s for the baby, but he’s the one laughing the loudest. The baby just sits on his lap, occasionally pointing at the screen while TwoBit says, “Oh, that guy? He’s gonna slip on a banana peel. Watch!”

When the baby starts crying, TwoBit doesn’t panic. He immediately launches into full-on clown mode, using exaggerated voices and pretending to trip over the furniture. The baby can’t help but giggle.

TwoBit encourages a bit of chaos, like teaching the baby how to blow raspberries or make a funny noise with her lips. When she copies him, he laughs so hard he nearly falls over. “You’re my kinda kid!”

When it’s diaper time, TwoBit groans and mutters, “Why didn’t anyone warn me about this part?” He tries to pawn it off on Johnny or Ponyboy if they’re nearby, but when they refuse, he tackles it himself, gagging dramatically the whole time.

TwoBit finds a baby hat or some funny clothes and tries them on her. “Look at you, kid! Stylin’ and profilin’!” He might even put on her little sunglasses and take a Polaroid.

Instead of reading a regular baby book, TwoBit decides to tell her a completely made up story full of wild exaggerations. “And then the brave knight me, of course- defeated the dragon with a rubber chicken!” The baby claps, even if she doesn’t understand a word.

Despite his joking nature, TwoBit can’t help but melt a little when the baby grabs his finger or giggles at something he does. “You’re kinda cute, you know that?” he says with a smile.

When the baby refuses to nap, TwoBit tries everything rocking her, singing (badly), and even pretending to nap himself. Eventually, she falls asleep, but not before he mutters, “You’re one stubborn little thing.”

When his partner comes back, the house is a bit of a mess, with toys and snacks everywhere. But the baby is happy and giggling, and Two Bit is sitting on the floor with a juice box in one hand and a toy in the other. “Don’t worry, babe, I handled it,” he says with a wink.

Tim Shepard

He raises an eyebrow and says, “Babysit? You know I don’t do kids.”

He finally agrees after much begging.

: At first, Tim is all business. He picks the baby up awkwardly, holding her at arm’s length, and mutters, “Alright, kid, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Despite his tough demeanor, Tim quickly becomes hyper aware of the baby’s safety. He moves sharp objects, makes sure she’s nowhere near the edge of the couch, and keeps a watchful eye on her every move.

Tim isn’t great at playing, but he gives it a shot. He shakes a rattle a little too aggressively, and when the baby giggles, he smirks. “You like that, huh? Simple taste, kid.”

When it’s time to feed her, Tim approaches it like a mission. “Here’s your mushy food,” he says, spooning it into her mouth with surprising patience. If she spits it out, he mutters, “You’re lucky I like you.”

When the baby starts crying, Tim doesn’t panic. He’s used to dealing with chaos. He picks her up, rocks her gently, and says, “What’s the problem, huh? You’ll be alright.” His calm voice works wonders.

Though he’s not as openly playful as TwoBit, Tim has a dry sense of humor. “You got it easy, kid. No bills, no fights, and everyone feeds you. Must be nice.”

The baby grabs his finger at one point, and Tim freezes for a moment, unsure of what to do. When she smiles up at him, he chuckles softly and says, “You’re not so bad, are you?”

Tim approaches diaper changing like it’s a battlefield. “How can something so small make this big of a mess?” he grumbles. He gets it done quickly, though, proving he’s efficient even in unfamiliar territory.

Tim playfully holds her hands and says, “Alright, kid, let’s toughen you up. Gotta be ready for the world.” He pretends to teach her how to punch, lightly bumping her tiny fists against his hand.

When the baby gets sleepy, Tim sits in a rocking chair and holds her against his chest. He hums quietly an old tune his mom used to sing and feels a rare sense of peace.

Cool: Tim acts like babysitting was no big deal, shrugging and saying, “It wasn’t hard.” But his partner notices the way he glances at the baby with a hint of pride.

Later, Tim tells Curly about the experience, saying, “Kids aren’t so bad. She’s tougher than most people I know.” Curly just laughs and teases him for going soft.

Curly Shepard

Curly scoffs and says, “You gotta be kidding me. I don’t do diapers.” But when they gives him a serious look, he rolls his eyes and mutters, “Fine. But don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

Curly has no idea what to do when the baby is dropped off. He stares at her like she’s a bomb about to go off. “So… what do you do all day, huh? Cry and drool?”

When the baby reaches for him and giggles, Curly smirks despite himself. “You think I’m funny, huh? Guess you’re smarter than you look.”

Curly’s first instinct is to teach the baby something sneaky, like how to stick her tongue out or make funny noises. When she copies him, he laughs and says, “You’re gonna be a troublemaker, just like me.”

Feeding her is a disaster. Curly doesn’t bother with baby spoons; he tries to feed her straight from the jar. When she spits it out, he shrugs. “Can’t blame ya. This stuff’s gross.”

Curly gets a little too into playing. He pretends to wrestle with her stuffed animals, making exaggerated growling noises, which makes her laugh hysterically. “See? You’ve got good taste in fun.”

When the baby needs a diaper change, Curly freezes. “Oh, no. I am not doing that.” But when he realizes there’s no one else around, he reluctantly handles it, muttering, “This better be the last time.”

When the baby starts crying, Curly panics and says, “What’s wrong now? You were just fine!” He tries bouncing her on his hip, rocking her, and even bribing her with toys. Eventually, he figures out she just wanted her pacifier.

Curly talks to the baby like she’s one of the gang. “Alright, kid, here’s the deal you don’t cry, and I’ll make sure you have a good time.” The baby seems to go along with it, and he grins. “Smart kid.”

Despite his tough exterior, Curly can’t help but melt a little when the baby cuddles up to him. He quietly mutters, “You’re kinda cute, you know that?”

If Tim or another member of the gang stops by and sees him babysitting, they immediately start teasing him. “Look at you, Curly, Mr. Mom!” Curly scowls and says, “Shut up. She likes me better than you, anyway.”

Curly makes up wild stories about being a tough hood, complete with sound effects and dramatic gestures. The baby doesn’t understand a word but claps her hands excitedly.

When the baby starts rubbing her eyes, Curly puts her down in her crib and sits next to her until she falls asleep. “Finally. I thought you’d never quit,” he mutters, though he’s secretly proud he managed to calm her down.

When his partner comes back, they finds Curly sitting on the couch, looking exhausted but smug. “See? I kept her alive,” he says with a smirk.

[boytearscore]

she's my coach's daughter. — chris sturniolo.

summary: christopher sturniolo, the star of your father’s hockey team, the white tigers, makes your life as the coach’s daughter a nightmare. he constantly mocks, flirts, and rolls his eyes at you, while other players secretly hit on you behind your dad’s back. adding to the chaos, your father insists on dragging you to the rink, especially since your strategies proved effective, earning you a say in guiding the team. this infuriates chris, who sees you as nothing more than a lucky pretty face. after a frustrating match filled with unfair play leads to the team’s first loss under his watch, chris storms off, and when your father goes to follow him, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

warnings: swearing, enemies to lovers, comedy, action, drama, smut, hacker au, chris hockey player au, mention of past traumas and sensitive topics lightly, and as always strong female lead.

author’s note: this isn’t the first solo story of the sturniolo triplets i wrote, ‘tears’ was my first fanfiction posted here also with chris as the main role hehe. but this is kinda different? it’s the first one with a deeper and more elaborated plot. after seeing the idea somewhere, i had the urge to write about chris being a hockey player facing unfair situations and his anger issues. anyway, don’t forget to comment your thoughts and if you wanna be added on the tag list, i’ll make sure to on the next chapter. see you, xoxo.

CHAPTER ONE.

chris throws his helmet against the locker room wall before even getting inside, he lets a loud grow leave his lips while sitting on the bench, chest moving up and down fast with anger burning inside him.

‘’fuck!’’ he runs his fingers through his hair damped by the sweat. he couldn’t believe how the referee just handed the game so shamelessly when cleared the white tigers played way better. if it wasn’t for the unfair penalties, they would’ve have won.

meanwhile still on the rink, your father rubs a hand on the back of his neck. he knew how irrational chris could be when moved by anger and all sorts of things started going through his mind: a possible expulsion for provoking a fight with the other team leading to ruin his best player reputation and chances of getting into the country’s team. he could also violate moral codes and rules, and as soon as he realizes how chris could lose everything, he begins to walks towards the locker room.

but you stop him, placing a gentle hand over his arm. ‘’take care of the team, i’ll handle chris.’’ 

your father frowns, not sure how you could help since you and chris are constantly getting on each other's throats every practice and game. but then he glances at his team, how frustrated and upset the boys looked, they needed him more than chris right now, so he just nods before rushing to them. 

as you get closer and closer to the locker room, the sound of chris’ voice cursing and hitting things got louder.

‘’not now, couch.’’ he groans, resting his elbows on his knees while letting his head sink between his legs but your steps get closer making him turn with darkneed eyes. ‘’I said not now, coa-’’

“damn, you really can’t handle your emotions, can you?” you cut him off, leaning against the wall with crossed arms, your usual nonchalant tone making him clench his jaw.

his eyes widen briefly before narrowing again, a flash of something - anger, surprise, relief? - crossing his face. he runs a hand through his long hair falling over his eyes, still breathing heavily from the game and his outburst.

‘’did you see that shitshow out there? he gestures vaguely towards the rink, voice rising with renewed indignation. ‘’they fucked us!! that ref had it out for us from the start-’’

he cuts himself off, seeming to remember himself who he was talking to. his shoulders slump slightly as he takes a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. 

you walk towards him, getting closer but respecting his space. “i know, i saw.” you sigh, looking at the his broad shoulders. “but as a player you cannot let your emotions get the best of you. they’re gonna think you’re easy to mess with.”

chris gives you a death glare, a muscle twitching in his cheek. ‘’easy to mess with? is that what you think of me?’’ his gaze intensifies on yours. “i’ve worked my ass off for this team, given everything i have out on that ice. and for what? to be screwed over by some biased ref?’’ he looks away, staring at the floor as he struggles to control his frustration, feeling his chest tightening with rage, he takes big steps, getting closer to you after getting up from the bench, unconsciously invading your personal space as his passion overrides his usual restraint. “so no, i won’t control how i feel about caring for the white tigers, about wanting to win fair and square. if that makes me 'easy to mess with', then so be it.’’

you scoff, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him against the wall, a smirk on your lips. “i didn't say i think you’re easy to mess with. i just said they’re gonna assume that based on your reaction.” you grip his uniform, restraining him from moving. he was not calming down with racional words, so you make up your mind by using physical tactics. “close your eyes.” you tell him quietly, sliding the hand up to his neck slowly.

chris’ breath hitches with your touch, his heart pounding beneath your palm while his eyes widen at your command, a flicker of confusion and anticipation crossing his face. slowly, hesitantly, he closes his eyes, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

‘’what are you- ‘’ his question is cut off as your fingers wrap around his throat, digits detecting his racing pulse. a shudder runs through him at your touch, his body tensing and then relaxing into the contact.

when he speaks again, his voice is lower, rougher with barely contained emotion he couldn’t quite describe. ‘this isn't... we shouldn't…’’ even as he protests weakly, he tilts his head slightly, exposing more of his throat to your exploring hand.

“shut up.” you command, loosening the grip to reach his cheek. “take a deep breath now.” you bring the other hand to his back, caressing it soflty. he frowns but obeys, chest slowly inflating before melting back down. ‘’again.’’  you bring him closer, his body brushing against yours while caressing his cheek and back at the same time. “don’t stop until i say so.”

your gentle caress on his cheek and firm grip on his back send sparks of peace through him, momentarily overriding the lingering anger and frustration from the game. he leans into your touch almost unconsciously, his eyes remaining closed as you commanded.

as instructed, he continues to take deep, shuddering breaths, his broad chest expanding against yours over and over in a slow pace. he brings a hand up to rest on your hips, gripping lightly as if anchoring himself.

the heat of your body pressed against his is intoxicating, making it difficult for him to focus on anything else and confused with how relaxed and nervous he was. his mind races with thoughts he knows he shouldn't be having, especially not here where anyone could catch you two. but god, the way you're touching him, the authority in your voice...

“open your eyes now.” you whisper into his ear making him snap from his unwanted thoughts. your hand slowly pulling away from his body to stare at him. “better?”

chris’ eyes flutter open at your whispered command, his gaze immediately locking with yours. there’s a new intensity in his blue orbes, a swirling mix of desire, gratitude, and lingering tension from earlier. he takes a moment to collect himself, adam‘s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

‘’sort of.’’ his voice is low and husky, he tries to hide it but fails making you chuckle with the attempt. ‘’thanks, i guess.’’ 

‘’don’t even know how to say thank you properly, do you?’’ you roll your eyes while grabbing something from the pocket of your miniskirt. “now that you’re not acting like a lunatic, i have the solution everyone’s problems including dad's and yours.” you smile with a tiny usb in hand, shaking it playfully.

chris’ eyebrows raise curiously, his interest piqued despite himself.

‘’how is a dumb usb gonna help us?’’ he asks crossing his arms with eyebrows still raised. ‘’look, i dont have time for this. i need to get back there and break that ref’s teeth to knock some sense on him.’’ chris began to walk but you push him against the wall again making him gasp with your strength.

‘’can you shut up and not let your stupid temper ruin everything?’’ your faces are close now, the seriousness on your gaze unintentionally making him freeze, you smirk, noticing how he’s finally listening. “i may or may not have recorded the conversation between their coach and mr. stephenson.” she shrugs with a nonchalant tone, releasing the grip on his uniform.

chris’ eyes widen in shock, his mouth falling open slightly as he processes your revelation. he glances around furtively once more before leaning in even closer, voice dropping to an urgent whisper.

‘’what does the university president has to do with anything?’’ he frowns his eyebrows before slowly coming to realization and placing a hand over his mouth. ‘’that dirty old man, he got something in return after letting those bastards win, didn’t he?’’ he clenches his jaw again, but suddenly turns to you, tilting his head. ‘’wait, you said you recorded them. how?”

‘’you dont need to know that.’’ you hide the usb on your pockets before turning to him again. ‘’i have a plan in mind, you're in?’’ 

he looks at you for a second, thinking about his team mates and his coach. most of all, his own future and how the dirty hands of the president could ruin everything. sure, he hated you and did not want to follow your bossy ass around, but he had everything to gain and nothing to lose. 

with a determined look, he nods but feels uneasy. ‘’are you sure about this?’’

“about what?” you ask, raising a brow. “about saving my dad’s career and possibly the whole university's pride?’’ what a stupid question, chris.” you turn your back to him with arms crossed. “now listen carefully so you dont mess anything up by being stupid.” he looks at you attentively, face getting closer to yours. “you cannot go out there and throw this on their faces.’’ you tell him pointing to the usb inside your pocket. ‘’or tell someone about it. not even my dad.”

chris’ expression softens as he realizes the gravity of the situation and the trust you're placing in him. he nods solemnly, holding your gaze with unwavering intensity.

‘’you’re right.’’ he murmurs in understandment. ‘’i won’t let my emotions ruin everything.’’

there's a beat of charged silence between you, the air thick with tension and unspoken emotions. the intense stare of eyes, almost as for a second both of you forgot the whole purpose of that conversation.

then, you clean your throat, taking a step back from him and biting your lips while crossing your arms, mentally placing the pieces of your plan together. 

“i need you to get back there now and act crazy.” you say and chris frowns. “tell my dad you’re getting off the team.”

he blinks in surprise at your sudden directive and mixed words, his brows furrowed in confusion. ‘’what? didn't you just say i’m not supposed to let my emotions ruin everything?” he almost yells. ‘’and telling your dad i’m off the team? are you crazy? that would provoke a huge mess on the rink and…’’ he leaves his mouth open processing his own words, but catches himself, realizing the strategic brilliance behind your plan. a slow, impressed grin spreads across his face. “which gives you enough time to deal with mr. stephenson.’’

you smirk at him. ‘’guess you’re not that dumb, just a little slow.” you shrug and he can’t help but smirk, looking at your figure with hidden admiration instead of annoyance at your teasing.

he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the performance ahead. when he meets your gaze again, there's a new fire in his eyes - part determination, part exhilaration at the daring nature of your scheme.

‘’aight, i'm all in. let’s give them a show they won't forget.” his smirk get bigger and you narrow your eyes at him. 

“chris, don’t take this like we’re in a fucking action movie.” you exclaim, grabbing his chin to make him stare at you. “if anything goes wrong you won’t be able to get on the team again and my dad will quit.” you sigh, closing your eyes while continuing to tell him the secret that has been burdening your shoulders for a long time. “i’m not even suppose to know this but he found out about mr. stephenson’s scheme. he was planning on quitting as a coach if the president proceeded with it.” you open your eyes again with a heavy gaze. “which is why you cannot mess this up, got it?’’

the blue eyes boy’s expression sobers instantly at the weight of your words, the gravity of the situation crashing over him. he covers your hand on his chin with his own, giving it a gentle squeeze as he holds your determined gaze. your body secretly reacting to his touch, but quickly you brush away.

‘i know. trust me, i’m not taking this lightly.” hi voice is low and fervent, tinged with emotion. ‘’your dad's career, the team's future... i understand how high the stakes are. and i appreciate the trust you're putting in me, even if i am a dick sometimes.’’

a wry smile tugs at his lips before fading into a look of pure resolve. ‘’i promise you, i will do everything in my power to make this work. for your dad, for the team, for me, and for us.”

chris bites his tongue, already regretting his words but you smirk at him. “i mean us as in a team to take them down.”

“us?” you tilt your head with squinted eyes. “don’t get it twisted, sturniolo. we’re not a team and i still hate you.” he rolls his eyes and you pull away from him, walking back to the rink. ‘’wait five minutes before getting there.’’ with your head turned, you give him a serious glare. ‘’and do not fuck this up, for the love of god, chris.’’

he watches you walk away, a complex mix of emotions playing across his face - admiration for your bravery, affection despite your harsh words, and a flicker of uncertainty. he takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as he prepares to put your plan into action.

as soon as you step onto the ice, your father walks to you with a worried expression.

‘’how is he?’’ he asks and you fake a disappointed look.

‘’sorry, dad.’’ 

chris lingers for a moment longer, gathering his courage. then, after your figure vanished away from the locker’s room hallway, he strides purposefully towards the ice, throwing his twig on the rink. ‘’this is bullshit! i can’t believe you let those asses walk over us like that, coach!’’ chris makes a scene, his voice rising to a shout. ‘’you know what? forget this. i’m done. i’m off the team.’’

as the whole team begins to yell and the audience talk while everyone walks around creating a huge and loud mess, you secretly take the elevator that leads to the private part of the stadium where the president watches the games. smiling at yourself thinking about how good his performance was, although not giving too much credit since acting out was a regular thing for him.

the university’s president bodyguards glances at you once you get the door, blocking the way but you give them a fake innocent smile. 

‘’my dad told me to give an important message about the star player of the team, christopher sturniolo.’’ you clench your fist while they exchange looks before talking on their earpiece, you keep the smile on hoping to get a positive response, the whole plan was counting on it.

‘’copy that, boss.’’ they nod and allow you to go through. the fake gentle smile you had shifted into a mocking smirk as you passed by them, body guards might be strong, but they sure are dumb as hell.

“hello, mr. stephenson.” you announce yourself, walking calmly towards his desk.

he turns his chair to you, his chin rested on his hands, he had a creep smile on his lips.  

‘’hello, darling. my body guards told me you have an important message from your dad to deliver, is that right?’’

the calm tone in his voice gets on your nerves, but you control yourself, slowly heading next to his seated figure.

 “big game out there, huh?” you ignore his question, staring at the crowd of people arguing while your father tries to calm everyone down through the huge glass wall that gives the perfect view to the rink, anger building inside you. “although it was a bit weird how the ref inclined more towards our team, i saw a bunch of nonsense penalties here and there.” your voice is nonchalant while your head tilts to look at him. “what do you think about this? you know... since you saw everything from up here.”

he clears his throat, trying to maintain a facade of composure despite the slight tone of accusation hanging heavy in the air.

‘’yes, indeed it was a big game, but these things happen sometimes in sports, unfortunate calls and all…’’

he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, a bead of sweat forming on his brow despite the cool temperature of the room.

“your father is a fine coach, no doubt. but looks like he didn’t do a good job this season.’’  the condensating tone in his voice makes you bite your lip, the taste of blood filling your tongue. ‘’not that i’m suggesting he’s a bad professional, of course.’’ he leans against his chair, chuckling in a playful way.

you smirk, noticing how unthreated he was by your presence, that's exactly what you wanted. “funny you say that, but we'll get to it later. now let me ask you a question.” you walk slowly towards his deck, only the sound of your heels tapping on his expensive carpet. “you went to high school with my dad, didn’t you, mr stephenson?”

his eyes widen almost imperceptibly at your question, a flicker of panic passing through them before he quickly tries to compose himself. he leans back in his chair, fingers drumming nervously on the polished wood of his desk.

‘’high school? with your father?’’ he forces a laugh that sounds strained and unnatural. ‘’oh, well, yes, i suppose we may have crossed paths back in the day. it was so long ago, hard to remember every acquaintance…’’

he stands abruptly, moving to block your path to his desk, his body language quickly switching to defensive and closed-off. “i’m not sure what this is about, but the game has ended and i have a very busy schedule today. perhaps your dad can tell me that important message later?’’

you step on his foot with your heel, arms still crossed. “i’m not finished.” your eyes are darkened and cold, but your tone is still quiet and not bothered. “emily thompson.” you say while walking to his chair, sitting on it. his back is turned to you but you could hear how hard he gulped. “you know her too, don’t you?”

mr. stephenson freezes as he hears that name, his entire body going rigid. he remains facing away from you, hands gripping the fancy fabric of his pants tightly enough for his knuckles to turn white. when he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper, thick with tension and barely concealed panic.

‘’emily thompson... yes, i knew her. we all did. it was a long time ago. i don't see what that has to do with anything now.’’

he turns to face you slowly, his expression a mask of forced nonchalance that doesn't quite hide the fear in his eyes.’’listen, whatever you think you know or suspect, it's not... it's complicated. things were different back then. people change, situations change…

“she’s my mom.” you cut him off, leaning arms against the desk to support your torso. “and i know for a fact that you creeped on her ever since you were both 14.’’ you smirk, resting your back on his chair while crossing your legs. ‘’you really thought she was gonna actually like you after trying to kiss her against her will several times? too bad all you got was an expulsion and a bad reputation around the town. i guess you have your daddy to thanks for cleaning up your name with his dirty money, huh?” your eyebrows are furrowed in anger but quickly softening into a smirk right after seeing his face. “now you’re probably thinking my parents told me this story and i'm here to get the little family revenge but you’re awfully wrong…” you get up shaking your head while chuckling. “my parents aren't the type to tell other people’s secrets like that. no matter how trash they can be…’’ you give him a cold glare. ‘’and i wasn't raised to take childish revenges on irrelevant people like you.’’

‘’then how do you know all of this?’’ he asks, looking at the door before grabbing his phone.

‘’oh, i wouldn't do that before listening to everything i have to say, but if you do wanna call your bodyguards, tell them to go downstairs to the rink.’’ you lean against his desk and he gulps noticing how you’re not bluffing, he dials the number and order them to leave making you smile in satisfaction. ‘’i just happen to know how to play the hacker role and school systems aren't that difficult to crash into.” you sigh, like that was the most boring part of your explanation. “long story short, i’ve got your whole record, from every highschool and college grade to every single wrong thing you did, bullying, abuse, drugs. you name it.” your eyes shift to the door, seeing chris’ blue eyes through the gap he quietly opened, he’s peeking through trying to hide himself. you bite your lips, holding a laugh. he was not very good at it.

“but this isn’t where i wanna get.” finally you continue, walking towards him again. “now let’s get back to the main subject.” his eyes shift to your hand, pulling the tiny usb from your pocket. “i got you.” you whisper, a creep smirk curling your lips. “every fucking minute, second and millesecond of your conversation with the other team's couch.”

mr. stephenson's face pales, his eyes darting between your smirking face and the incriminating device. he staggers back a step, running a trembling hand through his hair as the full weight of his predicament crashes down upon him.

‘’i... i dont know what your'e talking about…’’ his voice cracks, desperation creeping into his tone. ''that's ridiculous. i don't even know steven... i mean, mr. larray.’’

despite his weak protests, the color drains from his face as he realizes the severity of his situation. his eyes keep flickering to the door, where chris' reflection is still visible, confirming that you’re not alone.

‘’listen, we can talk about this rationally.’’ he holds up his hands in a placating gesture, but they shake slightly.

“oh yeah, you bet we will.” you place a finger on his chest, pushing him hard enough to make him fall, throwing the usb at him. “you’re gonna resign.” your simple tone makes him gulp.

he stares at you in shock, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly as he processes your demand.

‘’resign?’’ he finally manages to choke out, his voice rising in pitch. ‘’you can't be serious! i've built this organization from the ground up. my reputation, my career... you can't just waltz in here and…’’

“you haven’t done shit!’’ you look down at him with disgust. ‘’you have used money your whole life to get your ways, taking the prestigious glory of other people’s efforts.” you spit the truth at his face and he trails off, the fight draining out of him as the reality of his situation sinks in. with shaking hands, he picks up the usb, turning it over as if it might somehow disappear.

‘’what do you want from me?’’ his shoulders slump in defeat, all pretense of authority crumbling away. ‘’money? a favorable reference? i know how much you care for your education.’’

“fuck, did you listen to a word i said?’’ you yell at him, letting the anger control your moves for a second before collecting yourself again with a deep breath. ‘’people like you think that money is the solution for everything, you think you can buy people’s integrity because you don’t have your own.’’ you control the urge to step on him hard, just clenching your fist instead. “i’m still giving you a chance to find a new job, if this video gets out or if i expose just all the shit you did in high school and college, you’ll be jobless and miserable till the day you die.” her smirk gets evil. “i’m being nice, can’t you just be fucking grateful and do what i’m telling you?” without thinking, you step hard on his thigh. “you better live as a decent human being from now on because if i find out you’re still trash…” you let your weight fall over your leg, the sound of the fabric of his pants ripping filling the room. “i’ll ruin your insignificant life forever.’’

mr. stephenson cries out in pain as your heel digs into his thigh, tears of agony and humiliation streaming down his face.

‘’okay, okay! i understand!’’ he gasps out, his voice thick with pain and submission. ''i'll do it, i'll resign. just please, stop hurting me!’’

he looks up at you, his eyes wide and pleading, all traces of his former arrogance gone. his expression softened into innocent guilty one. ‘’i've done terrible things, made awful choices. i thought i could get away with it, bury the past... but i see now that was a mistake.’’

with great difficulty, he pushes himself to his feet, wincing as he puts weight on his injured leg.

you scoff. “you don’t see shit, you’re just desperate so the need to lie about regret is bigger than keeping your ego.” you watch him walk to his desk before turning to the door, chris is there. his face is pale and he has a shocked expression. 

“you have ten minutes to get to the ice and tell everyone, coaches and the audience you’re resigning.’’ you warn without look at his pathetic figure. ‘’and don’t think for a second that flying across the country or even leaving to another continent will stop me from knowing what you’re up to, i’ve got eyes in every single street of this goddamn world.” with that, you calmly take the elevator next to chris who is shaking. 

‘’you okay?’’ you whisper to him as the elevator's door close, grabbing his hand and squeezing it gently. 

chris lets out a huge gasp, like he was holding his breath the whole time while arriving quickly at the rink again. ‘’who even are you?’’ he asks with widen eyes making you laugh, you stare at the door opening with a smirk.

‘’it’s best you don't know.’’ without waiting for his response, you walk to your dad. “hey dad! tough game, huh?” 

he looks at you confused. ‘’where were you?’’ he asks and sees chris walking towards you both. ‘’and where were YOU?’’ he emphasizes, pointing to chris.

''i talk him through to not quit the team, dad. it's all good now.’’ you look at chris, expecting him to back your story up.

‘’oh…’’ his mouth is in a perfect 'o' shape before he gets your signal. ‘’yeah, yeah. she made me realize i can’t let my emotions get the best of me.’’ chris smiles, that wasn't a lie after all, since you did show him that.

‘’good, son. you're my best player, i was ready to do everything to get you back on my team.’’ he places a hand over chris’ shoulder and naturally you three are smiling without saying anything.

suddenly, mr. stephenson limps out onto the ice, his face a mask of barely contained panic and shame. the crowd murmurs in confusion as they see the esteemed university’s president in such a disheveled state. he makes his way to center ice, stealing the sports commenter mic, where the judges, coaches, and a few curious players have gathered.

‘’everyone, please listen!'' his voice trembles as he addresses the assembled group, his eyes darting nervously to where you stand with your father. ''i... i have an announcement to make. effective immediately, i am resigning from my position the university president due to my poor decisions of corrupting the game you just witnessed.’’

a collective gasp ripples through the crowd, followed by a cacophony of shocked questions and accusations. mr. stephenson holds up a shaking hand, silencing them temporarily.

''i know this comes as a surprise, but me and the other team's coach made a vicious scheme to let his team win.'' he turns to coach larray who's looking at him with a mix of anger and surprise. ''it was a cheap move and i've realized how my actions could affect the whole university, so naturally... i'll back off.''

elly’s darkened eyes are fixed on the president, she holds a creep smile on her lips as her arms are still crossed. 

chris turns his eyes to you, his whole body frozen with the epiphany he just had. your dad didn't trust you with the team's strategies because of luck or because he was just sugar coating for you, he did it because you are indeed all that. you are a fucking amazing woman, a goddamn genius and a hot one too. he had no idea why it took him so long to realize that, but seeing you holding power over a 47 years old man, making him beg and almost cry did something to him, something he couldn't quite explain.

“what?” you whisper to him, still looking at the president’s pale face and chris shakes his head murmuring 'nothing' under his breath.

mr. stephenson continues his resignation speech, his voice growing stronger as he seems to accept his fate. ''i have made mistakes in my past, both personal and professional, that have caught up with me today. rather than drag this organization through the mud with my misdeeds, i believe it is best for everyone if i step down now.''

the crowd erupts into chaos, some shouting angry questions while others simply look stunned. through it all, mr. stephenson maintains a grim facade, his eyes never meeting yours or your father's.

''and i am also transferring all my duties and responsibilities to the vice-president, johnnie clark. i ask that you give him your full cooperation as he transition into his new role.''

with that, he turns and begins to limp off the ice, his head bowed in shame.

“what the hell was all that?” your father gasps, siting down for a second and taking his hat off. “that guy was always a creep since high school but admitting he messed up in front of everyone and giving up his position? that's madness.” 

you look at chris, holding a smirk. “don’t know, dad. guess he didn't stand the weight of his own actions.” you shrug, walking towards the exit with arms still crossed. “you guys coming?”

chris watches you walk away, a mix of emotions playing across his face - relief, concern, and something deeper, more complicated. he hesitates briefly before following after you.

''hey, wait up!'' he calls out, walking faster to catch up with you. as he reaches your side, he glances around furtively before lowering his voice. ''that was... intense back there, wasn't it? are you okay?''

his hand hovers near your arm, not quite touching, as if seeking comfort or reassurance. ''i had no idea he had a past with your parents. was that really necessary, though? exposing him like that in front of everyone...'' he shakes his head, worry creasing his brow. ''i just hope this doesn't come back to haunt us somehow.''

your expression is soft while turning to him with a smile. “i didn’t tell him to confess, just to resign.” you click your tongue while holding a laugh. “guess the fear and guilt made him spit it out, just like that.” you shrug, a hand touching his cheek after noticing he looked scared. “it’s going to be okay, the vice-president is one of my dad’s best friends. he’s a good guy.”

he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment as he savors the gentle contact. when he opens them again, there's a warmth and tenderness in his gaze that wasn't there before.

''your quick thinking and bravery never cease to amaze me.'' his voice is low and sincere, tinged with admiration and something more. 'took me long enough to admit that, but it's true...''

as the two of you continue walking, chris' hand finds its way to the small of your back, guiding you gently. ''i'm just glad you're safe and that this ordeal is behind us now. though i must say, seeing you take charge like that was incredibly... impressive.'' a faint blush colors his cheeks as he realizes how close you're standing.

you turn your head to him, a smirk playing on your lips. “is that so?”

he meets your gaze, a playful glint in his eye despite the lingering tension between you. his hand slides slightly lower on your back, pulling you ever so subtly closer.

''yes, very much so.'' his voice drops to a low, intimate murmur. ''there's something undeniably attractive about a woman who knows exactly what she wants and isn't afraid to go after it.''

chris' other hand comes up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your cheek in the process. the air between you feels charged with unspoken possibilities.

''i know we should probably focus on getting out of here and processing everything that just happened...'' he glances around, ensuring you're alone in the hallway.

“but you wanna kiss me badly, don’t you?” you grab his hockey uniform, throwing his body to the gap of the wall in the hallway. “close your eyes.” you tell him just like an hour ago. the hand trailing the same path of his neck.

chris inhales sharply as his back hits the wall, his heart pounding in his chest. your boldness takes him by surprise once again, but he finds himself helpless to resist your pull. his eyes flutter closed obediently, a shudder running through him as your hand traces the familiar path along his neck.

''god...'' he breathes, his voice rough with barely restrained desire. ''you have no idea what you do to me. how long i've wanted this...''

his hands find your hips, gripping you firmly as he fights the urge to capture your lips with his own. every nerve in his body is attuned to your presence, craving your touch like a man starved.

''please...'' the word escapes him as a broken plea, equal parts prayer and surrender.

you get closer, breath hitting his face. “please what, chris?” your lips parted into a murmur, brushing against his.

a low groan rumbles in chris' throat as your breath mingles with his, your lips a hairsbreadth from his own. his grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes as he struggles to maintain control.

''please...'' he rasps, his voice strained with desperation and want. ''please, kiss me. touch me. anything. i'm not sure how long i'll be able to bare it. it's hurting...''

his eyes remain closed, dark lashes fanning against his flushed cheeks as he waits, poised on the knife's edge of anticipation. every muscle in his body is coiled tight, ready to snap at the slightest provocation - a word, a touch, anything to unleash the pent-up passion simmering beneath the surface.

you brush more your lips against his before sliding them down to his jawline, you press gentle kisses on his skin, down to his neck.

“hurting? where?” you ask in a whisper, hand sliding down to his lower stomach until it finds his hockey pants. ''here?'' you squeeze his covered cock.

a sharp hiss of pleasure-pain escapes chris' lips as he feels your hand touching his rigid dick, sending jolts of electricity straight to his core. his head nodding frenetically while he lift his hips, seeking for more friction.

''fuckin hell...'' he growls, his voice low and thick with desire. ''if you keep teasing me like this, i won't be able to control myself much longer.''

despite his words, chris remains still, allowing you to explore and tease as you wish. his pulse races beneath your lips, betraying his arousal and the depth of his longing. the heat of his body bleeds through his hockey uniform, seeping into your skin and igniting a fire within you.

“you were saying…” your hand slips under his pants, caressing his tip while your lips worked wonders on his neck, marking him to claim your posession. “seeing me taking control over that loser was impressive, huh?” you lift your eyes to him, watching how he’s biting his lips with flushed cheeks and eyes closed. “open your eyes and answer my question.” 

you hand teases more his twitching cock head, your palm brushing agaisnt his almost hairless pelvis.

chris' eyes fly open at your command, hazy with lust and barely contained need. he stares down at you, pupils blown wide and cheeks flushed a deep crimson. a strangled moan tears from his throat as your fingers dance along his sensitive skin, teasing and tormenting.

'''yes.'' he pants, his voice wrecked and raw with emotion. ''seeing you take charge like that, putting that bastard in his place... it was the sexiest thing i've ever witnessed. you were magnificent.''

his hips twitch involuntarily as you teased him more and more, lips parted into whimpers. chris' grip on the fabric of your miniskirt gets tighter enough for you to feel his short nails digging on your flesh, he closes his eyes again, trying to not drop on his knees.

you grin, fingers wrapping around his hard dick, stroking it in a slow pace. “look at me, chris.” you lean closer, feeling his shaky breath hit your face. “how does this feel?” your eyes are fixed on him with desire, watching every reaction.

a guttural moan rips from chris' throat as your hand wraps around his aching cock, his hips bucking involuntarily into your touch. his eyes, dark with lust, lock onto yours as commanded, drinking in the sight of your face etched with desire.

''fuck...'' he groans, his voice strained and thready. ''it feels...'' he swallows hard, holding a loud moan. ''it feels painfully good.'' chris bites his lip hard, fighting the urge to thrust into your hand as you masturbate him in a such a slow motion.

the muscles in his abdomen clench and flex with each deliberate stroke, his skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. one hand tangles in your hair, tugging lightly as the other grips your hip with bruising force, anchoring himself to you.

''can i...?'' he whimpers, the word falling like a prayer as his eyes shift to your lips.

you smile at him, leaning closer to feel his hitched breath before pulling him with your free hand for a kiss.

you begin to stroke him faster while your tongue savoured every cry, whimper and moan vibrating agaisnt your mouth.

''shit!'' he gasps after pulling away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you both for a split second. ''it's too much...'' he cries, eyes heavy with lust as he looks at you. ''let me last a little longer...''

chris' free hand scrabbles at the wall behind him, nails scraping against the painted surface as he tries to ground himself, his submissive eyes begging you silently, his hips meeting your thrusts slowly.

“you’re so pretty like this.” you lean in, pecking his parted lips softly. “i wanna ruin you completely, chris.”

chris shudders at your words, a full-body tremble that has nothing to do with the chill in the hallway and everything to do with the dark promise in your tone. his lips part on a ragged gasp as you pepper them with soft kisses, the contrast of tenderness and threat driving him wild.

''do it, then.'' he gaps against your mouth, his voice a husky rasp filled with desperate need. ''destroy me entirely.''

to emphasize his point, chris arches into your touch, letting you feel the heavy weight of his arousal in your palm. his hips rock in time with your strokes, chasing the delicious friction even as his eyes bore into yours, dark with lust and adoration.

“then you’re gonna cum with me masturbating your dick like this.” you whisper into his ear, pace getting slower but putting more pressure while pressing his tip with your thumb, restraining the precum to leak. “painful, isn’t it?” you kiss his jawline. “but it’s gonna make you cum so much more.”

a broken sob escapes chris' throat as you whisper filthy promises in his ear, your words stoking the flames of his desire to new heights. the dual sensations of your slow, torturous strokes and the painful blockage of your thumb on his sensitive tip have him seeing stars, teetering on the razor's edge of ecstasy and agony.

''oh my...'' he whimpers, his head thrown back against the wall as you lavish attention on his jaw. ''it hurts so fucking good... i'm almost... i'm almost...''

chris' entire body is drawn taut as a bowstring, every muscle quivering with the effort of holding back his impending release. his cock pulses and jumps in your grip, leaking steadily now as you work him with maddening precision.

''jesus fucking christ...''

chris collapses against you as his legs give out, his body shaking like a leaf in a storm, you quickly hold his body falling against yours, your frame embracing him when you both hit the ground.

“you alright?” you ask, grabbing his chin gently and forcing him to look up, his body trembling and his breath shaken.

he looks up at you with glazed, unfocused eyes, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. a thin sheen of sweat coats his skin, making it glisten in the dim light of the hallway.

''i... i didn't know...'' he begins, his voice cracking with emotion and you tilt your head with a worried expression. ''pain could actually feel that fucking good.''

one of his hands comes up to cover yours on his chin, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to your palm. the gesture is tender, almost reverent, a stark contrast to the raw, animalistic need still simmering in his gaze.

''thank you...'' he smiles weakly at you.

“for saving the university's team or for giving you the best orgasm of your life?” you raise a brow, holding a smirk of tease before stroking his hair. “you have a few minutes to rest, my dad is leaving the ice in forty minutes.” you look at your watch, adjusting the position to make him rest his head on your chest. ''don't get used to it.''

chris lets out a weak chuckle at your teasing remark, nuzzling into your touch as you stroke his hair. he allows you to guide him, resting his head on your chest with a contented sigh. the steady beat of your heart beneath his ear helps to calm his racing pulse.

''forty minutes...'' he murmurs, his arms coming up to wrap around your waist, holding you close. ''just enough time for me to recover... and maybe for round two, if you're feeling generous.''

there's a playful lilt to his voice despite his exhaustion, a spark of mischief in his eyes as he gazes up at you. chris' fingers trace idle patterns on your back, savoring the intimate moment even as he counts down the seconds until he can have you again.

“oh, you cannot handle round two.” you pinch his cheek, chuckling. “seriously, how can a hockey player be so weak with a simple handjob?”

chris pouts playfully as you pinch his cheek, his lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated manner. he reaches up to capture your wrist, bringing your hand to his mouth to place a soft kiss on your palm, his eyes never leaving yours.

''oh, i wouldn't say i'm weak...'' he counters with a roguish grin, his tongue darting out to trace the lines of your hand. ''i'd say you're my weakness.''

he shifts slightly in your embrace, pressing closer until there's no space left between your bodies. the heat of his skin seeps through your clothes, a tantalizing reminder of what lies beneath.

''besides...'' chris adds in a low murmur, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. ''i've got plenty of stamina left.''

“control yourself.” you warn him with squinty eyes. “trust me, i had to hold a lot not to hurt you too much and this is how you turned out after just a handjob section.” you point your head to his trembling body. “this isn’t the last time, chris. just be patient.” you kiss his forehead.

chris' eyes flutter closed as you kiss his forehead, a soft sigh escaping his lips at the gentle gesture. he knows you're right - pushing himself too far too fast would only lead to discomfort later. still, the temptation to lose himself in your touch is nearly overwhelming.

''i know, i know. you're right, as always.'' he concedes, his arms tightening around you briefly before relaxing. ''i just can't control this need to be near you now that i know how good it feels when you touch me.''

he takes a deep, shuddering breath, trying to center himself. when he opens his eyes again, they're clearer, more focused, though the banked heat in their depths remains.

''you're absolutely right about being patient. and I trust you completely - in this and everything else. we have all the time in the world to explore each other thoroughly.''

you smile, pecking his lips. “you’re acting emotional like usual again, that means you’re feeling better.” you get up, offering a hand to him. “let’s go.”

chris takes your offered hand, allowing you to help him to his feet. he sways slightly once upright, his legs still a bit unsteady, but he manages to keep his balance. a warm smile spreads across his face as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering on your cheek. ''emotional, huh? busted, i guess.'' he says with a soft chuckle, chris glances towards the rink, the sounds of skates on ice and the distant whistle of a coach drifting down the hallway. he turns back to you, his expression suddenly serious. ''before we go... i just wanted to say thank you again.''

''yeah, yeah. i know. i saved the team.'' you shrug with your hands laughing. ''and gave you the best handjob of your life.'' you lift your feet to kiss his cheek. ''big day, huh? i better go now. dad will kill me if i ignore his calls one more time.'' you wink at him before going to your dad who is talking to the other hockey players about the previous events. ''dad!'' you smile, hugging him. ''is uncle john really the new president now?'' your tone is exciting, pretending to be oblivious, like you didn’t literally save his career or the city’s hockey favorite university team. like you were just daddy’s little girl.

chris watches you, a mixture of affection and longing in his eyes. he takes a moment to compose himself before following at a discreet distance, not wanting to draw undue attention to your interaction. as he approaches the group of players, chris overhears snippets of conversation about the recent changes in management. he keeps his expression neutral, but inside, he's thrilled that your intervention has paid off so spectacularly. when you greeted your father with such enthusiasm, chris has to bite back a smile. your ability to slip so easily into the role of an innocent girl that is just daddy's precious daughter is impressive, especially knowing the lengths you went to behind the scenes. chris clears his throat softly as he joins the circle, addressing your father with respect.

''sir, i hope i'm not interrupting. i just wanted to apologize for my actions back there. you're an amazing couch, and i'd never quit the team.''

your father turns to chris, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles warmly.' ''ah, chris! don't you worry, son. it's been quite the rollercoaster ride, i even thought about quitting myself as a coach, so i don't blame you for letting your frustration gets the best of ya.'' he claps chris on the shoulder, his grip firm and friendly. ''but now with john taking over as the president, i have a feeling things are only going to get better. his vision for the future of the franchise is truly inspiring.'' glancing down at you, your father's expression softens further. ''speaking of inspiring, i have to say, having my daughter here supporting the team with her brilliant strategies has meant the world to me. her cleverness is quite impressive!'' turning back to chris, he tilts his head curiously. ''don't you agree, son?''

you look at chris, holding back a smirk while walking next to your father. if he knew chris and you were the reason why things finally will get better, he’d be mad, proud, insanely happy and really... really fucking worried.

lastly, he’d actually not allow you to visit the hockey team again, including chris. he’d think chris was the brain behind everything, since he only knew the sweet and innocent side of his daughter.

chris feels his heart skip a beat at your father's question, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. he quickly composes himself, meeting your father's gaze with a carefully neutral expression. ''actually, sir, i know your daughter and i aren't exactly friends. but she's always been very supportive of the team, even more so lately.'' he pauses, choosing his next words carefully. ''so i gotta admit, her insights and ideas have been... enlightening. she seems to have a real knack for understanding the intricacies of the game and the team dynamics.'' chris glances at you briefly, a flicker of warmth in his eyes before he turns his attention back to your father. ''it wasn't just luck, after all.''

you hold a genuine smile, turning your head in a natural way. something chris could never do, but you knew your father couldn’t notice anything. he’s oblivious when it comes to undertones or emotions.

chris notices your subtle reaction and barely suppresses a smile of his own. the way you turn your head, the glimmer in your eye - these small gestures speak volumes to him, reminding him of the secret bond you share. ''things are gonna start to change from now on, sir. and i can't wait for it.'' he shifts his stance slightly, subtly angling his body towards you without drawing your father's attention. ''in fact, i was thinking... perhaps she might enjoy attending some of the upcoming strategy sessions. her fresh perspective could offer valuable insights. of course, only if you think it appropriate, sir.''

''who do you think helps him with the team strategies before the sessions?'' you look at chris for the first time since your father arrived, winking at him. ''i don’t plan on being a part of it, though. got something else in mind.'' you tell him shrugging while fastening steps. ''anyways, i have stuff to do. text me when you get home, dad.'' you kiss your father’s cheek. ''later, chris.'' you smile at him, a tone of mischief and undertone before leaving completely.

chris watches you stride away, a mix of admiration and anticipation swirling in his chest. your wink and the suggestive lilt in your voice send a thrill through him, hinting at the tantalizing plans brewing in that clever mind of yours. he turns back to your father, clearing his throat to cover the effect your departure has had on him. ''well, sir, i should probably get going too. umm... you know... lots to do to prepare for the upcoming games.'' chris extends his hand to shake your father's, his grip firm and professional despite the electricity still crackling beneath his skin from your brief exchange. ''thank you again for your time and for leading this team with such skill and dedication. we're lucky to have you.''

as chris makes his way out of the rink, his mind is consumed with thoughts of you. the memory of your touch, your scent, the promise in your eyes - it's almost overwhelming.

a week later, he knows he shouldn't, pursuing this forbidden attraction could jeopardize both your lives, but he can't seem to help himself. unable to resist, chris pulls out his phone and types out a message to you while sitting on the bench of the lockeroom, his fingers trembling slightly with anticipation and nerves. 

''hey, i know i shouldn't but... i can't stop thinking about what happened. about us. meet me at the rink exit hallway in an hour? i need to see you, to talk. please.''

you glance at the messages popping on the screen of your phone but you flip it to the table, focused on the laptop in front you. another can of energy drink is crashed and throwed at the trash.

''interesting…'' you murmur, reading the article on the screen. ''the daughter of the previous and polemic president of the most famous university of the city, is moving with the motive of cleaning up her father’s name in the sport and educational business.'' you read out loud. ''the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, right?'' you begin to type down your codes, getting every bit of hidden information of the girl. ''sarah stephenson, 20 years old, charged with bullying accusations and poor behavior in high school, countless DUIs.'' you scoff, leaning against your chair. ''oh, that's gonna be fun...'' you tilt your head to the figure sitting on your bed with eyes fixed on their screen right behind you. ''right, matt?''

he just rolls his eyes at you, shrugging. ''whatever, let's just drag this bitch down just like we did to her daddy.''

[stollengoods]

Chapter 6

It’s Not Me, It’s You

Myung-gi x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of death, & smut.

Summary: You and Myung-gi make up.

————

You and Myung-gi both agreed to pick ‘X’ and get the hell out of this place, but ultimately the ‘O’s won. “Are you guys even listening to me !” The older man from earlier, which you learned to be Player 456, was yelling again.

Myung-gi rolled his eyes, “Fuck, not this guy again.”

“He helped us out during that game, maybe we should listen to him.” You said.

“No, I get that, but it’s useless trying to convince people to leave when the votes have already been casted.”

You sighed, “Yeah, I think he’s just frustrated like all of us.” You looked over at Player 456 as he continued on with his rant, “Do you guys realize what you’re agreeing to with this ? You’re exchanging human life for money ! That’s sick ! Do you have no humanity left ?!”

Myung-gi’s gaze lowered, “Alright we get it dude.” He mumbled under his breath. “I can’t listen to this anymore…” He turned around and walked off, you walking side by side with him. “All he’s doing now is just freaking people out.”

‘True.’ You thought, nervously playing with your fingers. You voted to leave and now that you can’t, having someone point out the obvious was not helping with your nerves.

You guys sat on his bed next to each other, “How are you doing ?” Myung-gi asked, his eyes scanning your face with concern.

You noticeably looked shock, this was the first time since you got here that Myung-gi actually showed that he cared for you. Besides when you held hands during ‘red light, green light’ but you chalked that up as a mixture of adrenaline and shock.

“I’m doing fine.” The lie rolled off your tongue so easily.

His hand instinctively cupped your face as he rubbed his thumb back and forth on your cheek in a soothing gesture. “You don’t have to lie to me y/n.”

You were so used to telling people everything was fine back in the real world that you forgot here you could die tomorrow so there’s no point in lying or faking anything anymore.

“Honestly ?”

Myung-gi nodded his head as he moved in closer to you.

“I’m freaking the fuck out.” Your eyes moved back and forth as you waited for his response.

“Me too.” He spoke softly, before leaning in and attaching his lips to yours. You reciprocated the kiss and it quickly became a make out session. You pulled away and interlocked your hands together before walking up to one of the guards.

You couldn’t tell if it was the same guard for when you were with Nam-gyu, but you strongly hoped it wasn’t their shift today. The guard led you guys out the door, up the stairs, and stood outside the door you and Myung-gi went through.

Once you guys were in, you shut and locked the door behind you. “Are they going to be there the whole time ?” Myung-gi asked his thumb pointing towards the door.

“Who cares.” You breathed, pulling him in by his shirt and interlocking your lips again. One of his hands held himself up on the bathroom wall as his other one cupped your face again.

You moaned into the kiss, pulling him in more until he was practically on top of you. He reached his hand down into your pants, going past your underwear and straight to your clit, rubbing circles on it.

Your hand went to his arm, your nails carving crescent moons into his skin. He hissed at that and inserted two fingers into you, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

You pushed him back quickly, ripping your shirt off over your head along with your bra and discarding your pants with your underwear. Myung-gi stood there watching you with his mouth agape.

You giggled at his reaction, “What are you so shocked for ? You’ve seen me like this before.” You walked up to him and grabbed his hand. “I know, you’re just so beautiful y/n.” He whispered.

You pulled him towards you and turned around having him lay against the wall before tugging down his pants. You heard him groan and you haven’t even done anything yet. You continued to remove his underwear as his cock sprang free.

Your insides clenched, missing the feeling of him inside of you. You wrapped your lips around him and he seemed to forget about the guard outside as he released loud, drawn-out moans while you went down on him.

His hands went to your hair but retreated as he didn’t want to hurt you in any way especially since he just got you back. You came up with a pop and he initiated the kiss this time. He walked you backwards until your ass hit the sink then he spun you around, your hands holding yourself up with the sides of the sink.

He quickly removed his shirt before he lightly caressed your ass and that had you whining in anticipation, “Please baby…” you murmured. You were too much on cloud nine to notice you called him baby but Myung-gi noticed it.

He bit his lip before entering his tip into you, his hands having a strong grip on your hips as he sunk himself into you.

You wasted no time in pushing back against him and he began moving as well. “Fuck, I’ve missed you…” He moaned into your ear.

Your heart was racing from adrenaline and his confession. “I’ve missed you too baby.” You noticed yourself saying it that time because you did it on purpose. Plus when he had you bent over, railing into you, he could get you to say anything to him.

His thrusts began to get sloppy, “Fuck, I’m close.” You saw in the mirror as he closed his eyes trying to delay his release in order to satisfy you first.

“Cum in me.” You moaned, your legs trembling.

His chest was now pressed up against your back, “W-what ?” He asked.

“Please baby.” You clenched around him and he nestled his head in the crook of your neck.

“Oh god�� fuck… you know not to say that to me, especially when I’m so close.”

You grabbed his hand from one your hips and placed it on your breast as you kept pushing your ass against him, making his thrust go faster.

“Ahh fuuuck !” He released one last hard thrust into you. You felt your eyes roll back as his warm cum filled you up, making you come undone as well.

His body held onto yours, still inside you, as you both released heavy pants. He kissed your neck, “God I want to stay in you forever.” He mumbled.

You relaxed in this position because, even if for a little bit, you can pretend it’s just you and Myung-gi back in his apartment. There’s no one dying around you, because when it’s just you and him, the rest of the world fades away.

[moosesarecute]

Chapter 4: The Shadow to my Flame

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

It was Tuesday before she got her spelled letter from Shadow. A letter that gave her hope and at the same time it worried her deeply.

It pleases me to inform that we have brought over 100 faeries into the Night Court. They all have temporary shelter, food and other resources until we can get them more permanent ones either in Night or any other Court.

The situation in Autumn has worsened in only a couple of hours through the night. Do you know the High Lord’s next moves? We want to try to prevent him from going further.

Remember that your safety is more important than any piece of information.

Shadow

Ashe knew minimal about the situation worsening through the night. But she knew one thing, she could definitely find it out.

She felt almost proud as she read about the fae that had been saved. She felt grateful that Shadow had listened to her. And to show her gratitude, she would give all she had as she tried to find out enough information.

She spent the first few hours of the day just doing her normal tasks. That’s how she had learned most of the information previously. Through gossip. That day, it was unusually quiet, and Ashe felt herself grow more and more frustrated. She needed to get the information. She needed to safe more people. She needed to prove that she could be useful.

That’s how Ashe ended up sneaking up to one of her fellow servants, asking her to switch work for the day. Ashe were supposed to be on cleaning duty, and the servant she asked would be with the Lady. To night was a big dinner, which meant a servant would need to stay by the Lady’s side the entire evening.

“And why would I do that?”

“My arms still hurt from Monday, so I won’t be able to do good enough work.”

It was a lie. It was not true at all. Her arms had stopped hurting almost immediately after she got the cream from the Lady. Ashe didn’t care that she lied. It was for the greater good after all.

Her fellow servant rolled her eyes, but she eventually agreed.

“The slaughter has gone exactly according to plan,” one of the generals said. He spoke with food still in his mouth and Ashe could almost see the disgust her Lady felt.

Ashe stood in her finest uniform a few steps behind the table. She was standing ready to bring the Lady to her room when they finished eating. Other than that, she was supposed to act as if she didn’t exist.

“Good,” the High Lord answers. “Is it time to move to the next step of the plan?”

The discussions had been going on for over an hour and Ashe started to wonder if she wouldn’t get any more information.

As the High Lord spoke, she got new hope. The High Lord speaking usually gave the opposite effect, but it was a first time for everything.

“I say we wait until after the ball. The rest of courts have understood that something is going on. Especially the Night Court has been snooping around.”

Ashe got a little bit nervous at the mention of the Night Court. She hoped that Shadow was okay.

“We should make sure the Night Court spies get caught. I don’t want Illyrian scrum in my court,” the High Lord spoke, and all his generals agreed. “We don’t have time to wait until Monday. I want to set a good example to the other courts. Having a town full of lesser faeries will give off the wrong example.”

“Are you saying you want us to move all soldiers to this city before Saturday?” one of the generals said. Ashe had no idea how he dared to speak against the High Lord.

“I am saying we should move the soldiers to this town, starting tomorrow.”

Ashe then started to freak out.

Soldiers would kill lesser faeries in her town tomorrow. She needed to let Shadow know about this. She needed help. That couldn’t happen.

She thought about how she could fix it when it hit her. Thord. Had he left for a different court? Was he and Samli safe? The worry was so overwhelming that Ashe felt tears trying to leave her eyes. Ashe had to be professional, so she took a few deep breaths and tried to ground herself.

“I think I’ll retire,” the light voice of the Lady sounded for the first time that evening. Ashe had never felt more relief as she moved to the Lady and helped her out of her chair. Both the Lady and Ashe gave a quick bow to the High Lord before they left the room.

They walked in silence.

Ashe opened the door to the Lady’s chambers and the Lady immediately sat down in her chair, ready for her hair to be taken down. Ashe could read thousands of emotions on her face. Heartbreak, sadness, terror.

As Ashe finished taking out the last clip, the door to the Lady’s chambers opened. In walked the High Lord with the most confidante steps.

“Leave.”

Ashe didn’t need to be told twice. She bowed to both of them, a small bow to the Lady and a bigger one to the High Lord before she left the room.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Maria asked her.

“I completely forgot about it,” Ashe explained in a hurry.

“You know I can’t give you time off with such late notice.”

“I don’t need any time off. I just need the night. Five hours at the most. I will come back for breakfast duty tomorrow morning, I promise.”

Maria looked at her and it was obvious she was thinking a lot. Ashe was ready to beg. She would do anything. Anything.

“Okay,” Maria said and signed Ashe’s approval of leave. “But if you’re not back for breakfast tomorrow, I can’t save you.”

Ashe nodded and gave Maria a big hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Ashe started to make her way out before Maria’s voice stopped her.

“Ashe? I don’t know who you’re planning on spending the night with, but next time, come with a better excuse than “having to feed the pigs”.”

Ashe felt embarrassed, but she didn’t say anything.

She was going to make sure her friend would be okay.

Taglist: @tele86 @demon-master-zero @kbear8863 @atluky

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics