#he’s been on my mind since this morning

[bitchlessdino]

Good Roommates Don't (m)

for @ddeonghwa-s secret cupid collab i recieved you @haologram! Secret Cupid Masterlist found here!

Pairing: roommate! Minghao x barista!afab!reader Word count: 14.1k rating: R Summary: Xu Minghao had been the most ethereal being you've ever laid your eyes on to the point being unable of functioning like a normal person, but now you're roommates. Only time will tell when you lose your mind keeping your hands to yourself, so there needed to be a list of things you don't do if you wanted to be a good roommate. tags: meet-ugly, strangers to roommates to lovers, college au, barista au, down bad!reader, mentions of band, brief bdsm, mc fell first he fell harder, cum swapping, spitting, oral (giving and receiving), face riding, unprotected sex author note: thank you @lovetaroandtaemin and @gyubakeries beta-reading this with me. after writing towtsyfdtotbycf (holy shit) i was in a little bit of a slump and had several and i mean SEVERAL versions of this and for months racked my brain how i wanted to do this. Alta, i care for you deeply and we've gotten close in the last year or so, so i really wanted to write something that would amuse you and that you'd enjoy. and if you hate it you can use it as leverage to berate me on discord lol. but please, my valentine, enjoy my gift to you. happy Valentines day Alta (and tell me was i really not that slick) <3

When you first met Minghao, you almost killed him trying to save his life. At least, that's what you thought you were doing.

All you had to do was bear a normal shift at the Coffee Shop, attempt a semblance of a smile for the oncoming customers, and clock out at your normal hour, but the universe couldn’t even give you that. Instead, they sent you the hottest guy imaginable, along with the swiftness of a gazelle, the strength of a gorilla, and the intuition of a garden gnome. That day just confirmed that some things were better left alone.

A few things were already going wrong that day. For one, your alarm didn't go off. The alarm being your mom, who usually kicked you out of bed first thing at 9 am, since she had a doctor’s appointment. Fair enough. The strings of fate got you there. All the more reason why moving out seemed like a distant dream rather than a close reality. Were you really capable of being a functioning adult? 

Then there was the bus and having to shell out twenty bucks for a Lyft when the next scheduled bus was reported to have broken down and was no longer an option. That twenty bucks could’ve been your meal for the next week, but no, being fiscally responsible was a circus act, and you were the clown being pied in the face repeatedly. As if you weren’t already putting on a face and juggling multiple things enough on a daily basis, today was no different. 

And then, you were late to work—which again, was nothing new—but you were hoping that Nayeon, who was scheduled as the shift manager, she’d let you off with a warning. Yet, somehow, that went wrong as well, seeing that the shittier manager on your shift, Manager Fi, was present instead. And, by the look in the old man's eyes, he wasn’t happy about it either, especially considering he assigned you bathroom duty for the end of your shift to make up for your tardiness. He never liked you since you started. Then again, he didn’t like anybody, and vice versa.

This morning was bad omen after bad omen.

Leading up to finally meeting Minghao—tall, scorchingly hot Minghao, , with lips that looked soft as clouds. You hadn’t seen him around before until today, and perhaps it should’ve stayed that way, because you couldn’t see yourself facing him ever again.

He walked in with his large group of friends, all almost nearly as charming as him with a handful of faces that you’ve seen once or twice, but none that stood quite out like his. He had the kind of face that made you want to paint murals, write ballads, or stare long enough to linger too long over the same spot you were cleaning on the counter, windshield wiping until the wet streaks you wiped off devolved to discoloration and damaged the countertop’s cheap sealant. Eventually, you averted your gaze to conceal your flushed cheeks—turning away in clear embarrassment, thinking about how much of a fucking creep you probably looked overtly gawking at him—but you’d soon realized that was the least of your worries. You’d soon wish it ended with you looking like a creep.

The next moment you lifted your eyes towards him again, you found him in a compromising position, one that had you thinking—and that was your first mistake. His face twisted with discomfort, and he gasped as he covered his mouth. A million thoughts raced through your mind, considering all the possible reasons for his distress, and one screamed the loudest above all, setting off alarm bells. So you—being meddling and troublesome you—acted on instinct.

Hopping over the counter, you raced towards him, pulled him off the booth which he was luckily on the edge of, and immediately attempted the Heimlich. Finally, your CPR certification could be put to use. You embraced him from behind, putting pressure on his ribcage as you launched and thrust yourself against him, forcing whatever was lodged in his throat out of his body.

“I’ve got you!” you exclaimed heroically.

You put in as much strength as you could muster, truly hoping to save a life today, thinking out of all things that have gone wrong today, at least this would be one thing you’ve done right. You could feel your ancestors looking down on you to witness a proud moment in your otherwise boring and mundane life. 

After several rough collisions with his body, he eventually spat something chewed up and unsightly onto the booth’s table, drawing the attention of several onlookers if your boisterous shouting hadn’t already. His friends were quick to look away, wincing in disgust while the cute boy doubled over in pain, holding himself by the ribs as you ran your eyes over at him in concern.

“Are you alright, sir? That must’ve been terrifying to suffocate on something so suddenly.”

He then finally lifted his head. His cheeks were flushed as anguish took over his features. “I wasn’t choking,” He rasped.

“...Come again?”

“Oh my god!” A third-party witness stood up dramatically from their seat. “This barista just saved this young man’s life!”

Suddenly, you were punished with attention, cheers specifically. All except the people who sat at the cute boy’s table clapped for you—or, rather at you now—and gave you standing ovations for your grand heroic act, when in fact, it wasn’t heroic at all. Meanwhile, you attempted to settle them down, flapping your hands dismissively and growing hot all over. You looked over the man you so-called saved as he strained to sit back in his seat, being tended by the friends he came with.

“Dude, you okay?”

“Shit, that looked like it hurt.”

“You probably shouldn't have been drinking it that fast, Minghao.”

It turned out you had severely miscalculated the situation. What appeared to be choking, prompting you to improperly administer a rough but appropriate Heimlich maneuver, was simply a mildly exaggerated reaction to hot coffee followed by a muffin to alleviate his burnt taste buds. You, of course, profusely apologized, as if you weren’t embarrassed enough for staring at him the whole time working your entire shift at the coffee shop because he was the most breathtakingly stunning person you’ve ever seen in your life. You might’ve just about broken his ribs and made his life flash before his eyes by abruptly slamming your body against him repeatedly, and not in the fun way.

Rather than an apartment, you were in desperate need of a hole deep enough to lead you to the core of the Earth to hide you from everyone else on the crust, ideally with cheap rent and good air ventilation. 

You bowed your head in humiliation, unable to meet any of their eyes, especially with the possibility of them remembering your face with a lawsuit waiting to happen. “I can’t believe that happened, I am so sorry. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, please let me know.”

“It’s okay, really, but I think we’ve had enough excitement for today if you don’t mind.” 

The attractive stranger—or Minghao, as you’ve learned from his friends who immediately rushed to him in concern—shook his hand in the air reassuringly. “Just, no more of that, alright? Make sure someone’s actually choking before trying to save them.”

“Right, please have a wonderful rest of your day,” you said, before returning to your station and disappearing behind the breakroom, screaming into your cubby and avoiding human interaction for as long as you could.

That scene replayed in your mind over and over like a recurring nightmare, burning the image of his beautiful face with such disdain for all eternity, while his name etched into your brain in permanent ink, embedded in every wrinkle in your brain. Minghao. A devastatingly beautiful name for a devastatingly beautiful owner.

Ugh. Get a fucking grip.

You just needed to get through the rest of the day. It would just be a couple more hours until your shift ended, and then you’d leave on the dot. It’d be just in time to make your appointment to meet your new potential roommate. Hopefully, it would be the silver lining of today’s catastrophic mess.

You met on electronic class forums while attending the same Cultural Studies course and somehow ended up relying on each other for notes. By your chat history, you seemed to have a lot in common—with the exception of his preference for tea over artisanal coffee—and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t get giddy seeing the green circle next to his username. Recently, he had just talked about moving into town after pondering the idea for so long, and as fate may have it, you’ve been looking for your own place to stay. You figured he seemed nice enough, and he even offered a reasonable quote on rent. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look. You just hoped he was as friendly in real life as he was online—with the day you had, you needed a win.

And, that win started with Chinese food, his choice, and it was a good one. You hadn’t been at this location before, taking note of the old-fashioned aesthetic touched by the harshness of modern neon signs that lit even the darkest of hallways. You were now thinking you ought to come more often as the heavenly notes of soy, ginger, and whatever concoction bled through the kitchen curtains and wafted through your nostrils the moment you passed through the double doors. Immediately, you were greeted by the host, visibly tired and overworked, with dark circles under his eyes, before he led you to a table in the center of the restaurant. You settled your nerves with a glass of water, trying to let the horrific events from today fade to as black as the soy sauce loitering on your table, waiting for a plate of dumplings to accompany them.

Funny how you could still have an appetite after everything that happened.

It wasn’t too long after you heard the same doors you walked through open, setting off the familiar sound of its wind chimes. You peered behind you, catching a glimpse of the new arrival, and immediately spun back in your seat, startled by the face that passed through your eyes. Trepidation brewed within you as the unsolicited visitor had your stomach in knots. 

You couldn’t take another incident tonight. 

You slunk into your seat, burying your chin in your shirt, hoping you’d somehow camouflage into your seat, facing away from the new arrival. Meanwhile, his eyes skimmed the room, walking in with purpose without guidance and greeting the employees as if he were right at home. Fortunately, he had yet to notice your presence as you slinked out of view the moment he passed by you to sit at the bar, while you made way into a booth in the dark corner of the restaurant, cursing the fates for their cruel games once again. You just had hoped that your new roommate would hurry it up already so you could get out of here before you were discovered.

And after about ten minutes, it felt as if all hope was lost. There was no sign of them and you were wondering if you had been stood up. Amid your anticipation, you were forced to pay attention to the person you were avoiding, seeing his patience wear thin with the tap of his foot as he sipped the last of his iced tea. Not a moment too soon, you saw him pluck his phone out from his pocket, fingers skittering over the screen before bringing it to his ear and scanning the restaurant’s floor plan. In the same instant, your phone went off,  blaring your cursed ringtone, ‘Pocketful of Sunshine’, and the realization—along with the panic—quickly set in. 

Alerted by the noise, his head whipped up from his screen. His eyebrows rose in shock, not all expecting the outcome that arose, and he dropped to his feet and quickly darted toward the sound that you—for the life of you—could not turn off fast enough. His footsteps matched the rate of your heart pounding in your chest, growing louder and closer until he found the source and located you cowering in the corner.

You lifted your head to lock eyes for the first time since this morning just as you finally managed to silence the ringtone and gave him an awkward laugh, waving with your phone in hand. Taking a nervous gulp, you awaited his disappointment, expecting him to make his quick exit after evaluating in the two seconds of your meeting that this arrangement would not work out because you were a deranged psycho with a savior complex. To your pleasant surprise, that didn't happen. Instead, you were met with a gentle smile and a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “There you are.”

You forced a sheepish chuckle. “Here I am, ha.”

Minghao softly chuckled before tucking his phone in his back pocket. “And to think just this morning you ‘saved my life.’”

You shut your eyes tightly, hands pressing together as if begging for forgiveness. “Again I am so, so sorry for that. It did look like you were choking.”

He shook his head reassuringly. “So you’ve said. I’m Minghao, or PalE8. Nice to meet you, CafeMixr0.”

“Is it…nice to meet me?” You asked dubiously.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

You blinked incredulously. “Well, for several reasons.”

He shrugged before entering the booth and leaving a healthy distance to sit just across from you. “Can’t think of any. Have you ordered anything yet?”

You shook your head, befuddled by his nonchalance, waiting to see the catch, if there was any.

“Good thing I know everything worth ordering.” His hand shot up before grabbing the attention of a server to get his order taken.

You weren't sure where the night was going. All you knew was the boy that you almost killed this morning was sitting across from you looking as breathtaking as he did this morning, even while slurping up his stir fry that was glossed with a sheen of chilli oil and swelling up his already full lips. Rather than a roommate meetup—if that was still the case—it felt like a date, a date you were exceedingly ill-prepared for.

Suddenly, you could feel the sweat on the back of your knees, feeling the strong urge to sniff the clothes on your back, unsure when the last time you did a fresh load of laundry and if your current attire was included in that load at all. Not to mention that bathroom duty that was forced upon you, which no doubt seeped into your clothes. You were better off naked, but then that would be an entire different kind of meeting, wouldn’t it?

“You’re okay, right?” You asked, trying to distract yourself from your spiraling thoughts as you barely finished your portion of chow mein—which was absolutely heavenly, to put it lightly.

He let out a light chuckle before kindly reassuring you. “How many times are you going to ask me? You and everyone from this morning. I’m fine, able-bodied and everything.” 

“I just felt really bad. You looked really hurt.”

He couldn’t suppress his grin, finding your cautiousness amusing, but it only added to your unease. “I was hurt. You’re really, really strong.”

You winced. “Again. I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s a quality of a good roommate.” He finished the last bit of his meal before dropping a couple of bills without asking for the tab. “Come on. I’ve got to show you the apartment.”

You raised an eyebrow while sipping your warm tea before tapping your mouth with a napkin. “You still want to room with me? After this morning?”

“There’s not a lot of good options for roommates in the city, and what are the odds that you’ll try to kill me twice?”

He had a fair point, and it wasn’t like you had options lining up either. You just had to hope he didn’t regret taking this chance on you.

A big reason why you wanted to move out was to learn to be on your own, but in addition to that, the city had pretty much everything to offer. The city had it all, from job opportunities to the right people to meet, and the apartment Minghao led you to was the center of the entirety of it. High above the town square, in a room several floors up, there was a nook that had a view through a large window overlooking everything within about a two-mile radius. If there was anything nice to say about the city, it definitely looked better from where you were standing. The street lights illuminated streets, neon signs brought the local businesses to life, and people that ran the night life lived it to the fullest in the flashiest clothes imaginable. You had never seen your city like this before.

Meanwhile, the apartment itself was gorgeous and already fully furnished with stylish furniture and greenery that touched the kitchen and living room. It was graced with Minghao’s taste in art and an eccentric—but tasteful—color palette of warm browns, olive greens, and rustic oranges. It felt like walking into Minghao’s mind, seeing into his world, and you were given the opportunity of it being yours, being part of his world. He was generous enough to even let you pass through the front door.

“So?” he asked, gauging your interest, watching as you looked down at the city from the large window nook in awe.

You softly scoffed, unable to take your eyes off the beautiful view calling to you like a siren at sea.  “Um, I’m sorry, you had trouble finding a roommate, how?”

He crossed his arms, admiring the sight with you, glancing at you through his peripheral vision and grinning when he saw the childlike sparkle in your eyes. “I’m new to the city, and everyone I know here has their own living arrangements. I didn’t want to go too far in looking for a new roommate. I thought we'd work well together, since we’re based in the same city now and have a lot in common based on our conversations.”

“I almost killed you this morning,” You’ve pointed out to…death.

“Although you’re…impulsive and unpredictable, I’ve seen worse. I think I’ll manage.” He splayed his hand in front of you, gesturing for a shake to officially seal the deal. “What do you say? Do you still want to be roommates?”

Everything about this screamed it was a bad idea. Putting aside the fact that you nearly killed the man, you could barely stand in the presence of him without your mind drifting to dark waters. It didn’t take rocket science to understand that putting you in that same living quarters with Minghao meant you might have to live every day together with your hands tied behind your back and thighs taped shut. You’ve surprised yourself with how you’ve managed to keep your composure sharing the same air—the air you were even thinking of savoring as you contemplated this offer.

You were down-righteously-bad. You weren’t a fit roommate for Minghao in the slightest.

Yet, you took his hand, letting his cool palm clash with your warmth as his digits wrapped around you in a tight squeeze before shaking. “Let’s do it.”

And that marked the start of a new chapter of your life, unraveling the challenge of being Xu Minghao’s roommate. Only, he wasn’t the challenge. He was a breath of fresh autumn air. He was kind beyond words and accommodating in every step of your move. You were already familiar with his gentle and patient nature, as he had frequently taken the time to clarify complex ideas for class, and you’ve learned about the majority of his interests prior from your online discussions, but seeing PalE8’s traits in person—embodied in Minghao—was bizarre. You realized he was still a stranger after all. A stranger that claimed your breath with a single bat of his eyes and turned your stomach inside out worse than a bad case of food poisoning, no less.

Meanwhile, the neighbors knew him by name, were endeared by his presence, and found him to be a delightful conversationalist as well as a helping hand when the situation called for it. He was better than your friendly neighborhood spiderman. He was your kind, considerate, intricately woven, beautifully complex, and knees-bucklingly handsome Minghao. 

You weren’t usually a sexual deviant, at least not to this extent, but Minghao brought something out of you that you hadn’t felt for another person. However, if you were going to live together, that had to change. This crush was going to have to dwindle out of existence if you wanted to live together—emphasis on you—in peace.

So, that’s when you decided to make a list of rules that only you had to follow. Sure, you were an adult, and the thought of giving yourself rules to keep your hands to yourself was juvenile and stupid, but for the sake of your sanity, you were looking for anything that might work. That’s when you decided to make a list of things “good roommates don’t do”, thinking it would be shorter and easier to sum up than a long redundant list of things good roommates would do, and the first thing to top the list was easy.

Good roommates don’t almost kill each other (again).

That seemed easy enough to remember, considering the first time was traumatic enough, and fortunately, it didn’t take too much effort, considering you hardly saw each other despite living together. 

You ended up taking up more shifts at work, desperate enough to even join the catering team, to keep yourself busy and afford the new expense of rent, sacrificing a lot more of your free time. Meanwhile, Minghao’s work schedule was not only demanding, it was inconsistent. Working at a popular art gallery as an artist and attendant with frequent and erratic events to go to until late at night prompted your roommate to be seen home a lot less than expected. By the time either of you got home, there wouldn’t be so much of a hello or goodbye either, just the sounds of bodies falling on beds in either rooms as the day’s fatigue engulfed you until you succumbed to sleep.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little disappointed by these circumstances, but then again, perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. Seeing him as little as you did meant less opportunity for you to screw things up around him, because it seemed to happen quite frequently when he was around. The few times you did cross paths, you still found ways to humiliate yourself.

“That’s mine.”

You held the toothbrush mid-scrub, bubbles foaming at the corners of your mouth, “Eh?”

“I think you’re using my toothbrush.”

Your cheeks immediately grew warm, and you shielded your face with the back of your hand. You spat into the sink and splashed water on your face to rid yourself of toothpaste residue before turning back to respond, his words jumbling in your head and bouncing from corner to corner to process them. “I-I don’t think so, this is the one I always use.”

He snickered, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms, delectably dressed down in a gray tank top and sweatpants. The tempting taste of domesticity was sweet and permeated your tastebuds. “If that’s the case, we’ve been sharing, because I’ve always kept my brush there in the marble cup. Yours should be behind the medicine cabinet where you first left it.”

“What? You sure?” you pinned the used toothbrush on the sink’s porcelain before cracking open the medicine cabinet. “I’m pretty sure I took it—Ah!”

Startled by your findings, you dropped the toothbrush you gripped in your hand onto the floor when you’ve proven Minghao right as his toothbrush fell to the ground, now defiled with your oral bacteria and whatever was on the floor. The one day you take a shift later than usual because a member begged to take on more shifts, it blew up in your face. Seokmin, you will rue the day. “I-I’ll clean it!” You offered in a panicked tone.

He pushed himself off the threshold, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t, please. It’s dirty; I can just replace it.”

Filled with guilt, you stepped aside to watch him pick up the dirty brush before disposing of it in the waste bin, “Sorry.”

“You say that a lot.” 

He pulled a fresh toothbrush out of a drawer and ripped it out of its packaging. It was notably identical to his previous and your current abandoned toothbrush, down to the bristles. “No worries. See,” he turned the new hygiene tool for inspection, “Clean.”

“Regret having me as a roommate yet?” you joked anxiously towards his reflection in the mirror.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nothing I can’t manage. I lived in a boarding house full of guys that shared things without asking and it didn’t stop at toothbrushes. You’re the first roommate I’ve had that’s apologized. I say that’s an upgrade.”

He went on to brush his teeth with his newly obtained brush, christening the bristles with a squeeze of fluoride toothpaste before scrubbing against his pearly whites. He never ceased to amaze you with his aloof attitude towards the situation, as if he’d become accustomed to your chaos when he didn’t need to be at all. This situation, however, did indicate that you had another thing to be added to the list.

Good roommates don’t use each other’s toothbrush (even by accident)

In your room just before you left for work, you haphazardly added to the list you put on a crumpled piece of paper you kept in your wallet, ensuring you held your list close before setting the pen aside. Your heart pounded against your chest, thinking what that had meant all this time. How you’ve pretty much swapped saliva nearly every day with Minghao since moving in. The fact that it had gone on for so long repulsed you, but not anymore than the tiny part of yourself that maybe had always known and continued to do it. 

You held your digits to your lips, brushing the pads against the slit of your mouth, ragged breaths slowly leaving your lungs as you reached your enamel. Tension pooled in your stomach as the images that infiltrated your dreams were currently being conjured in your consciousness, while arousal chased down your legs as you clenched them together. Jolted back to reality, you wound your eyes shut, remembering how little he cared about the matter, how nonchalant he was when he found out. Meanwhile, here you were: perverse, losing your mind, and letting your imagination run wild like a hormonal teenager with her celebrity crush. 

Fuck. You needed a night out. You had been cooped up in the apartment for too goddamn long. The only other place you went was work, and knowing labor laws, they had to give you a night or two off for all the time you’d been putting in. There was a whole outside world, and you needed to buck up and take advantage of it. You had to do something other than fawn over your very hot roommate. Losing some spare change was worth the sanity. At least, you hoped it was.

“You going out tonight?”

Hearing a familiar tenor voice, your head lifted up from fixing the strap of your shoes to see him remove his coat and store it away in the front entrance closet. “Oh, you’re home,” you stated.

“Yeah. The gallery is closed tonight for a bigger show this weekend, so I have a couple days where I’m off earlier than usual.”

More time for Minghao to be at home. Great. 

You nodded, keeping your cool at the sight of his turtleneck hugging his lean and toned frame, making your heart work overtime in place of you this evening. “I see, but yeah. A couple of my friends and I are trying out that new place that just opened up in midtown.”

“Oh, let me know how that goes. Me and some friends had plans to go there too.”

“Okay.” You hurried your way to the door. “Don’t wait up.”

“Wait.”

Hand on the door knob, you cursed under your breath, squeezing your eyes shut as if bracing for impact before opening them, and turned around with an innocuous expression. “Yes?”

He held out his hand. “Your phone please.”

“Hmm? Why,” you asked, unlocking it before complying.

He smiled accepting it, before swiping his fingers off the screen. “I’m sending myself your location.”

And there your heart when pitter-patter again at thoughtful and kind hot as fuck Minghao. “I just told you where I’d be.”

“That could always change. Here,” he said, handing your phone back, beaming back at you warmly. “Just in case something happens, and you can always call me if you feel unsafe, okay?”

You gave a soft pout, cheeks growing warm at the thought of Minghao’s concern over you. It pleased you more than it should’ve. “Thanks. What are you gonna do tonight?”

He shrugged, taking a quick glance over his shoulder. “Maybe do some light reading and tea, paint if inspiration hits me.”

You gave a small grin, thinking just how Minghao those activities sound. “Sounds enlightening. Okay. I’ll be home soon.”

“Be safe.”

Even long after you’d left, you kept thinking about that interaction. How domestic it felt, how safe it made you feel, how seen you really were. It made you wonder if he was tracking you right now, looking at his phone, staring at the dot indicating where you were located. You wondered if he was thinking about you right now, because you were most certainly thinking about him.

Your mission of trying to forget Minghao by going out definitely was not working, but you took that as a sign to keep drinking. Your friends didn’t get to see you often with how much you worked, so they were just happy to see you were having a good time, not knowing you were trying to drown out the consuming thoughts of a certain man with a peculiar color scheme. 

They wouldn’t have known the way you let yourself get felt up by a stranger near the dance floor, standing so close you could smell the knock off cologne he was practically bathing in as his breath hung in the air against your neck. When it went nowhere, he eventually left, looking for prospects elsewhere, while you stuck to your mission, seeing it work at some point at night. Until it didn’t, but you didn’t remember because eventually it’d all fade to black.

Your eyes ripped open, waking up with the biggest headache, blinded by the natural rays of light bleeding through blinds—only your room didn’t have blinds. You specifically made sure to have blackout curtains because you couldn’t stand waking up to the sun, and that hasn’t ever changed. Grumbling irritatingly along the lines about who turned on the lights, you flipped on the other side of the bed with a half awoken daze, your blurry vision making out a lumpy figure underneath the covers.

You drew closer in confusion, trying to make sense of what you were seeing before taking in the fact the lump had a face as blinding as the sun you turned away from, startling you upon recognition. Your eyes shot open, wide awake now, and you nearly stumbled out of the mattress before his arms grabbed you, latching on you before you could fall off and safely secured you in his tucked embrace. 

“It’s a bit early for your charming antics, isn’t it?” Minghao chucked with closed eyes.

You blinked back at him, licking your lips anxiously. “How am I here right now?”

His eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the light. “You mean alive or in bed with me?”

Your cheeks grew hot. “B-both.”

“I wish I had an answer for the first question, but it seems your creator had more plans for you. As for your second concern, you seemed confused and tired, and I assumed you confused this bed for yours.”

“You should’ve kicked me out.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, rubbing his hands over your shoulders and sending a chill down your spine. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

You let out a soft sigh, ridden with guilt. “I’d deserve it. I must’ve been annoying to deal with.”

He knitted his brows together, the corner of his lips softly turning down. “You really don’t like yourself.”

“No—well, maybe not lately. Maybe I’m just coming to the realization I’m not a good roommate.”

“No one is good at anything their first time.”

“You’re not denying it!”

“You’re a fine roommate.” Patting you on the back, he threw off the covers and pushed himself out of bed, leaving his room to trod toward the kitchen. You followed after curiously, like a duckling that imprinted on its mother, watching as he pulled out ingredients from the fridge’s shelves. “Anything you’re allergic to?” He asked over his shoulder.

“Nothing comes to mind.” You answered hesitantly.

“Good. The recipe is fairly easy anyway, it shouldn’t kill you.”

Your eyes widened and you quickly stood by his side as he set all the items down, he followed with gathering bowls and cookware. “You’re cooking for me?”

“Mmh-hmm.”

“You don’t have to.”

He turned his head slightly. “You have a headache, don’t you?”

“Yes but—”

“It’s just egg drop soup.” He patted your shoulder nodding his head over at the counter stool either of you would often have breakfast. “Sit. It’ll be done in a few minutes.”

You sat patiently by the counter, watching him chop and throw ingredients into a small pot, which filled your shared residence with a savory aroma. As soon as he was done, he presented the dish in front of you, garnishing it with fresh chopped scallions and parsley. He picked up a serving with a soup spoon and gently blew on the top before taking a quick sample and grinning at the result. Scooping with the same spoon, he held a serving towards you with proud eyes.

“Try it,” he urged.

As you accepted the offering, you tried not to think about how you were about to share yet another household item that would enter both your mouths and let the simple flavors fan out on your tongue, the warmth of soup dispersing throughout your body. You hummed in delight, already feeling it work its magic. “It’s delicious,” you said softly.

He grinned. “Feel better.”

“Thanks, Minghao.”

“No problem at all.” 

As you enjoyed your thoughtful breakfast, your roommate cleaned up his mess. He wiped down whatever residue was left behind before heading to his room and coming out properly dressed in brown slacks and muted green patterned sweater when you were just about done eating. “Heading to work now.”

“You had work?” You asked surprised, “Why did you waste time cooking? You could have left already.”

He softly scoffed heading to the door. “I spent—what, five or ten minutes? It’s fine. See you later.”

In the last 24 hours, Minghao managed to make sure you were safe by tracking your location, gave you a good night's rest by not disrupting your sleep, and made you breakfast right before work. Then there’s you, black out drunk with almost no memory of last night (probably good you didn’t), annoying your overly nice and overly hot roommate, hogging a bed that isn’t yours, and eating a home cooked meal that probably set back his schedule. You were the worst. All the more reason for a new addition to the list.

Good roommates don't sleep in their other roommate’s bed piss drunk (again)

It seemed that this list of “don’ts” was getting longer, probably because you’re an awful roommate, and if there was a reward, yours would already be at the front door. You really, really had to make an effort to do something about this arrangement. Now that some time had passed and these interactions were becoming more frequent, avoiding him seemed to be out of question unless you wanted to give him the wrong impression. You would just have to become a better roommate, and that started with making up for this morning.

In the following months together, to atone for the bed incident and good deeds that followed suit, you shared the occasional breakfast if you had time (that is if you didn’t burn anything), even sometimes grabbing dinner or a late meal in the small gap before or after work. While in the late hours, when both of you should’ve been sleeping, you’d have a cup of your favorite beverages. He’d have his brew of tea for the night while you’d have a mug of coffee, awake under the stars and basking in the night, watching from the nook that you both grew fond of that was in the direction of the moon when it’s at its peak.

Of all people to share these moments with, you couldn’t imagine it with anyone else but Minghao. He was the peace amongst the chaos, the quiet you came home to after dealing with the noisy world that helped you heal like nothing else. You liked that about him, and now you were liking him too much, to the point you thought of him every day. What it’d be like for him to hold you in his arms, letting his warmth envelop your entire being the way his voice naturally does with a simple “it’s okay.” 

You’d imagine how he’d look at you, how lovers do when they ache for one another so desperately they could feel it down to every atom. You’d thought of the words he’d say to you, the words he’d say to someone he’s madly, irrevocably besotted with, and every letter and word and sentence would be spoken poetry. He’d feel like love. You didn’t think it was possible for you to grow more attracted to him, but learning all these wonderful things he does and seeing up close and personal how beautiful inside and out he was, you were developing feelings and growing all these desires that you were ashamed to admit out loud.

And with that, you pulled out your list and a pen, jotting in a new item.

Good roommates don’t live in every waking moment staring at them or thinking about wanting to kiss them (no matter how hard it is)

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve already broken that rule, but the least you could do was hold yourself accountable.

However, writing the rule didn't prevent future instances. Not from fantasizing, not from wet dreams, not from imagining a life together where you rid all your inhibitions and clothes and succumb to drowning in each other. Unlike every other rule that you’ve managed to avoid, this one was the outlier, flipping your world on its head and preoccupying every second of your thoughts with all things Xu Minghao. And what sucked was you were so guilt ridden, you couldn't even let yourself enjoy it. 

This was your roommate for crying out loud. Your wholesome, nice, forgiving, and tolerant roommate that went beyond what was necessary to make you feel at home and comfortable. Only time will tell when he’ll see through you and finally kick you to the curb.

“Let’s go out.”

Your head lifted up from your phone with eyes large as saucers. “What?”

“We haven't really done anything together,” he suggested, cleaning up the dishes of the dinner you both had just had.

It was one of the few nights that you were both free. The coffee shop had more than enough staff, and you’ve exhausted the hours put in, while the art gallery was planning a grand exhibition, so they needed all hands on deck for the mornings for a few weeks, but evenings would be free until the week of. That left you two a lot more free time than you knew what to do with.

“We see each other all the time,” you pointed out.

“At home. We don’t hang outside the apartment aside from that one dinner the first day we met, so let’s go out.”

You blinked, watching him grab his coat before you could argue as he waved you over, his smile luring you closer and putting you under his spell without you realizing until it was too late. “Uh, where? It’s 9PM.”

“Anywhere.”

For someone who had only arrived in town a couple months ago, Minghao knew a lot of the good spots in the city.  If it wasn’t food, it was book stores. If it wasn’t book stores, it was tea shops. He had a clear plan of the city, and without so much looking at a GPS, he could find his way around better than any native. And considering all the people he came with that day you met the coffee shop and all the staff at the Chinese restaurant, his index didn’t stop at places. He seemed more familiar with the people in your hometown than you were. Between you two, he looked like the real local.

Walking alongside your roommate, you turned to him curiously, “How do you know the city so well when you’ve moved in somewhat recently?”

He gave a soft smile looking into the distance, as if the gust of wind that passed through you both hit him with a wave of nostalgia. “I’ve been visiting for about four years. I only had the guts to become a resident recently.”

“Why’d it take you so long?”

“Student visa processes, paper work, all those things. Also, this city is great, and everyone I've met and have become close with is amazing, but home is just home. It’s all I’ve ever known.” He let out a deep sigh, taking in a deep breath before stretching out his arms and let fall back to his sides, turning slightly to you. “This country and town has become a second, though, some things even my home can’t beat.”

You mused at that, intrigued that he could find something appealing in here, then again you've been here all your life, yet Minghao showed you more you could ever imagine of it. “Like what?”

He simply smiled as their feet stopped at their final destination, a location they both aimlessly walked towards just a little off the center of the town. “I’ll tell you, as soon as we try this place out.” 

Just off the center of town was a bar you had never heard of with a theme you’d never thought to put together on your own and definitely a place you’d never think to walk into with your roommate you were trying to keep platonic feelings for.

“Hey sexy babies, welcome to the Love in Leather BDSM Bar, where all your sexy dreams can come true.”

Oh, my god.

You were petrified. Every wall was decorated with leather or latex, either on display in a box, on a vulgarly displayed mannequin, or on an employee that was dressed in next to nothing, leaving no room for imagination. You weren’t shy about the theme of BDSM—there was always a small part of you curious about it—but it’s not like you’ve talked extensively about it with Minghao. The same person you were trying really hard not to think about sleeping with, which was especially hard in a place that served ‘cum shots’ and with their special for tonight being ‘buttery nipples.’

Glancing back at your roommate to get his reaction, he seemed to be just as startled with his findings as you were, but perhaps not as terrified as he should be, taking you by the wrist and weaving through the crowd with a marveled expression. You were grateful for the loud music playing the explicit versions of songs you wouldn’t otherwise hear on the radio, drowning out the sound of your heavy breathing and the loud thrum of your heart. You just had hoped he couldn’t feel your pulse under his fingertips, unable to untangle from his grasp as you felt the heat of his touch spread out through your whole body. You were trapped in a web you didn’t want to leave and that was the hardest kind to be in.

Suddenly, lights poured on the center stage of the bar. The music then slowed down, transitioning to another song, and a scantily leather clad woman entered that would erupt cheers of all clients seated in the chairs in front of her, to which she sent an air kiss and wink. Following the crowd, both you and Minghao decided to cheer along with them, your sounds of encouragement drowned out in the more enthusiastic and obscenely creative audience members of the establishment. Walking across the stage, she made a show of it, caressing her body in ways that would have a man on his knees howling at the moon (which you swore you heard once or twice in there) as money was thrown strewn stage like confetti, enough to pay for a few nice dinners uptown. After garnering the excitement, she descended down the steps of the stage, walking into her live audience. Her eyes skimmed through the endless crowds of people, landing on and picking one lucky front row member—a young, spry man no older than twenty-five—and brought him on stage, ensuing roars and applause, indicating the start of the real show.

What happened next was something you did not want to get into detail, but in layman’s terms, that audience member was having the time of his life with the use of a flog while everyone watched. You could only make the distinction of excruciating pain and pleasurable pain by the very loud affirmations coming out of his mouth and bouncing off the board he face planted on, and the words that passed through one of your ears and never wanted to come out the other. You were slack jawed from the scene, not at all expecting this scene today, and holy shit, you could not feel more suffocated knowing Minghao was witnessing all of this beside you. 

He stared back at the scene, expression unreadable, but he seemed interested and unable to look away like it was an oncoming train wreck, looking as if he was stuck on the tracks and was making sense of what he was seeing. Suddenly, his eyes locked with yours and you watched as they softened with a glint of something behind them before you swiveled your head, feeling yourself burn from your face to your ears, clenching your free hand. This felt eerily like a date, but unlike the first dinner, this felt like a real one. An immense sexually charged one. 

You were surrounded by sex at all angles, being tested to the most extreme degree. Tonight, you’ve learned dominance wasn’t particularly your thing, but if it were Minghao, perhaps you wouldn’t have minded. 

But this, this was overwhelming. As if sensing your turmoil, Minghao tugged your wrist, making you fix your gaze on him again and read the words that he mouthed from his lips. “Time to run.”

Your fingers interlocked and feet picked up speed as you headed toward the door, running aimlessly for miles out of the bar in fits of smiles and laughter. There was no plan and no destination, you both just wanted out, and you’d only stop running when you reached a bridge, both your bodies collapsing against the metal railing. You both gave out in heavy pants, your breaths mingling as you faced one another. 

“That’s crazy,” you managed to rasp. “Why did we think we could go in there?”

He gave you a tired grin back, looking in the direction from which you came. The light layer of perspiration made his shirt cling to his skin, and you get a sliver of his chest as he aired it out for comfort. “I don’t know. Try something new, but that.” He pointed where he faced. “That’s how I know so many places, I just walk inside.”

You ran your hand over your chest, baring the biggest grin. “Gosh. I feel like dying.”

“Iced coffee?” He kindly suggested.

“And tea?” You cared to offer.

Nodding back at each other, you both decided to walk the rest of the way back around, making a stop at a light night cafe and occupying their second floor balcony to taste the crisp air. As you sipped on your iced coffee and Minghao sipped on his warm tea, you quietly basked in the moonlit sky, as you’d done many times before. The adrenaline of tonight coursed through you still while you leaned against the railings and stared up at the stars, your elbows grazing close enough to spark that electricity that you’d feel whenever he ever got too close. This time, you were too tired to fight it, or you learned it’s about time you stopped trying to.

“I don’t drink coffee.” He abruptly confessed, penetrating the silence.

You softly scoffed, turning your head to him, taking his reminder as a jab for your ‘inferior’ tastes before taking a bigger sip of your delicious fresh roast press. “I know that. You prefer tea.”

“I mean, I don’t drink coffee, but the day you ‘saved me,’ I did.”

You hummed. “Oh. Yeah, you did. Funny. You got a coffee that day instead?”

He shook his head, smiling. “No, ask me why I drank coffee that day.” 

You rolled your eyes, placing your drink on the side table before leaning your elbows over the railing. “Okay. Why did you drink coffee, Minghao?”

“I drank my friend’s mug on accident, thinking it was my tea, then tasted how scaldingly hot and wretched it was—”

You gasped, offended as a barista, “I work really hard on those!”

He waved his hand to calm you down. “Let me finish. I mistook my normal tea for coffee…all because I got distracted, unable to stop thinking about the cute barista who wouldn't quit staring at me from behind the counter.”

“...I apologize for being a creep.”

He shook his head smiling and set his tea cup aside. “Not my point.”

You stared into the contents of your drink, shaking the ice inside as you stirred the straw, trying to find any remains of your beverage and stalling for time to follow up with a response. Lips pressed in a firm line, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, silence met on the other end as he keenly observed you, mirroring your posture while he sipped his tea. “So…You thought I was cute,” you managed to sum up.

“Thought…think…know.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You timidly asked.

“We’re roommates,” he reminded you, plain as day. “We should be honest with each other, right?”

“Honest,” you repeated, lethally soft.

“Yes, honest,” he confirmed just as quietly. “Don’t be afraid to tell me whatever is on your mind, just as I’ve told you what was on my mind.”

His honesty was cute, flattering. Your honesty could write up a restraining order. “Is that necessary? We only really live together.”

“It’s necessary because we live together, so yes, be honest about your feelings. Let me in on your thoughts, whatever they may be.”

Good roommates don’t forget to be honest about each other’s feelings.

He stood in front of you dangerously close, the lingering smell of his cologne that reminded you of the ocean wafting into your nose as he drew near. His gaze beckoned you close without so much a word passing through his lips, and you felt his presence close in on the distance as he leaned against the railing. You softly batted your eyes, adjusting to your sense being overtaken by all things Minghao, mind just filled to the brim with Minghao, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

“You’re really committed to being a good roommate. I respect that,” you stated, harshly gulping. “Honesty. Where can I start?”

“Well, what are you thinking about right now?” He asked, face mere inches away from you, lips so plush you let out a wistful sigh.

“I’m thinking that…it’s really hard to think with your face so close in front of me.”

Despite that, he didn’t move, and instead he pushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, brushing against your helix to feel your flustered warmth bloom between his fingers. “Fair enough. What else?”

You wrapped your hand around the railing, stabling yourself on the floor in hopes of not falling over on your two feet, your breath being stolen in real time by your roommate who was looking more and more inviting by the second.

“And if I knew any better, I’d think you're about to kiss me.”

“Let’s wager that then,” he said as he reeled even closer, his fingertips once in your ears now guiding your chin, letting the surface of your lips feel the ghost of his as your breaths mingled against one another. “You can predict one of two things. One, I kiss you. Or two, I pull away. You get a prize if your answer is correct.”

“How is that a fair wager? You can easily change your response depending on how I answer,” you pointed out, ultimately playing along.

“I won’t,” he reassured in a coaxingly smooth tone. “I’ve made my choice.”

You raised a brow, attempting to look only subtly intrigued when in reality you’ve let him enchant you. “What’s my prize?”

“Loser grants whatever the winner wishes.”

“That’s irresponsible.”

“Knowing you, your request would be far from unreasonable.”

“I’m talking about you.” You narrowed your eyes, swallowing at seeing him come at you so close. “But, okay. I’ll play.”

The corner of his lips lifted mischievously, tilting his head to the side as his eyes narrowed back at you. “So, what’s your answer?” 

Your eyes flickered up to him, rounded up in intrigue as you tried to follow his gaze. “You’ll…pull away. Public displays of affection are cute, but maybe not your cup of tea, at least not grand ones like kissing, unless maybe it’s one the cheek or on the forehead.”

He smiled and gently tilted his head, eyes piercing into yours and taking a sharp breath before pulling away, crossing his arms with a soft pout on his lips. “You’re good.”

You felt the sting of rejection despite your victory, as if you’d hoped you’d be wrong. That he’d take you right there against the railing and give you a fervid kiss that broke you down to your knees and you could even taste in your dreams, but a win was a win. A predicted loss was better than a false victory.

“I guess I won.”

He sighed defeatedly, crossing his arms. “You did. So tell me, what desire would you like for me to fulfill for you?”

You shuddered at his choice of words, clamping your legs together. “Well, what would you have wanted me to do if I got the answer wrong?”

“Is that your wish? For me to answer the question?”

You softly scoffed. “Don’t be so cheap.”

He rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his tea, “Doesn’t matter, you didn’t get it wrong. You get the wish. So go on, tell me your wish.”

“…Fine. Grant me your wish as if you had won.”

“You want me to grant my own wish? That defeats the entire purpose,” he chortled with knitted brows.

“It’s my wish, so come on. What’s your wish?”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“And we didn't have to place bets, but it doesn't seem like there’s any rules against it, so go ahead. Tell me.”

Minghao sucked his teeth before complying. “Fine.” 

He moved toward you, hands settling over your hips and settling you on the floor beneath your feet as he gravitated toward, steadying his gaze on you. His face, inches away from you, and your breath hitched in your throat as he drew his lips near your ear. You heard the subtle squelch of his tongue as they licked his teeth, moments before the wish he dared you to grant poured out from his lush lips. “My wish is for you to…make me tea every morning, afternoon, evening, and every time I ask you to. Like my little tea gremlin.”

“Now that’s just evil, Xu Minghao,” You protested, lightly shoving him off.

He laughed. “No, it’s not! Think of it like pour over coffee.”

“Don’t try romanticizing it like it’s anything like my beautiful beans. Tea is tea. Coffee is coffee.”

“It was your wish to grant my wish.”

“Can I take it back?” You whined.

“It’d be dishonorable.”

You groaned. “Fine.”

He chuckled, “Let’s go home, hmm?”

Heading back home, you were embraced by a warm comfortable silence. There was a kind of silence that sanctioned your amicable living arrangement with Minghao to turn into something warmer, feverish even, something that you can’t even help but notice and your hands would occasionally graze one another on the way back, taking turn exchanging timid glances at you walked your path home.

“That was fun,” You admitted, taking off your shoes at the front door.

“Yeah, I think so. We should do it more often.”

You smiled at each other’s reflections as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, seeing you take the same tube of toothpaste and started brushing your teeth. You smiled as he purposely bumped into you, raising his eyebrow as you stared pointedly at him in the mirror, not expecting you to retaliate with a light shove. Ensuing a nudging war, you attacked each other’s shoulders, getting caught in fits of giggles before you forced yourselves to split up, knowing nothing would get done if you both let it go on.

“Do you work tomorrow?” You asked through the gaping door of your room as he cleared a glass a water before bedtime, freshly out of a shower and the smell of his clean, light fragrance was beguiling even from a distance.

“Yeah. Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Mmh.” He stalked over in your direction, a feign innocent smile on his lips. “That's too bad. We only really have nights like these together, it seems at least only for a little while.”

“It is,” You said, lathering up the last bit of lotion up your legs, feeling his eyes on you as they traveled the path of your hands.

The silence engulfed you, as if both of you were waiting for the other to make a sudden move, yet both of you remained still. Like a predator with its prey, unsure who was who, you both stood with uncertainty and palpable tension hanging in the air, waiting for the other to strike when the moment was right. Even the usually confident Minghao stood back as he observed you from a distance, eyes flickering over at you as you strided slowly towards him guarded with crossed arms.

“I guess, I’ll go to sleep now,” You finally said.

His gaze softened, nodding. “Okay,” he smiled, “good night.”

“Good night, Minghao. Sleep well.”

If only you had taken your own words to heart. 

That night, you couldn’t help but stare back at the ceiling, fiddling with the covers as the night’s events replayed in your head like a home movie, your thoughts traveling at a million miles a minute, too fast for you to stop and collect them—let alone process them—and stole your precious slumber. So, as you lay in bed awake at night, squeezing your eyes shut and waiting for the night to take you, waiting for the fatigue and sleep to come, it never arrived. Instead, your eyes ripped open, heart pounding in your chest as you sat up from the mattress and tore the covers off your body. Your legs pushed you off the bed and lifted yourself off, carrying yourself out the room and out the hallway with determined steps until faltering at the threshold of another front door before you softly knocked. 

You turned the knob, the door creaked open and you peeked your head through to see your roommate on the other end in bed, torso visibly bare as he slowly sat up at his late night intrusion. “Hey,” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “You’re up.”

“I think it’s the coffee,” you excused, clutching the edge of the door, “I can’t sleep.”

Wordlessly, he nodded, stretching an arm to beckon you towards him, and you slowly inched closer to him until you were completely under the covers. Occupying the space beside him, you nestled into the contours of his body as his arm cushioned the side of your head before facing one another, silence enveloping you. The only sound that bit into the silence was muted traffic, infinitely alive outside the walls of your confines. While it looked peaceful, and you felt as though you could melt into his arms, neither of you looked as if you were trying to sleep.

Rather, you stared at one another, making sleep even harder to attain as you traced every feature and took them in as if they were brushstrokes on a painting. Minghao may have worked with art every day, but he was a work of art in his own right, and you couldn’t help favor him above all others. You didn’t need a Van Gogh or Picasso, you had an original, a one of a kind Minghao.

And that’s when you saw his eyes begin to drift, lowering to the bottom half of your face, lips parting in intrigue as his breath fanned lightly against your cheeks. Your face flush in response, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth before they were caught, finding yourself doing the same with him and watching his mouth move in anticipation. You felt your pulse in your throat as much as you felt it between your legs, feeling arousal pooling and soaking your shorts.

“Do you want to wager another bet?” Minghao softly offered.

“What kind?” You breathed.

“The same bet, same prize. Do you think I’ll kiss you, or will I pull away?”

You mused at him, fingers extending toward him reluctantly, aiming for a lock of his hair laying stray on his forehead before smoothing it over his head, softly stroking him, feeling him lean into your touch. “Hmm, this time you’ll…kiss me,” you whispered with absolute certainty. “The tension is practically eating you alive.”

A grin stretched wide across his cheeks as a hand softly clasped over your face, thumb swiping across your cheek. “Right again.”

He closed the gap, slotting his lips between yours and languidly moving against you, letting you chase after his pace. You sighed against him, feeling his hand on your hip as he pulled your torso against his, the other rested against the nape of your neck as he reveled in your heat. Hands flying in his hair, you softly moaned as he kneaded your skin, feeling him trace the inside of your mouth with his tongue before he roughly pulled your weight from the mattress to topple you over him, letting your legs card between his.

“Minghao,” you quietly sounded against his lips, crushing your hips against his groin and hearing his sweet moan in response.

His muscles tensed as you pressed against him, while his legs clung to your thighs. His hands ran over the shape of your figure, unearthing an ungodly moan from your lips as he slipped beneath your shorts, etching over the curve of your ass and claiming your raw flesh in his hands, pushing you against him assertively.

You whimpered, grinding against him. “I know my wish.”

“Anything,” He tenderly mumbled.

“Call off work tomorrow.”

He smiled against your lips, bringing one of his knees to pin your bodies closer together. “Means you should too.”

“Oh, definitely,” You confirmed before reconnecting your mouths in a frenzied liplock.

Feeling the grind of your hips as his pelvis crushed against yours, his grunts slipped through every caress as his hand moved up your back. Soon, you started feeling something you had yet to see from Minghao in all your time living with him, the part of him you managed to evade but have envisioned a multitude of times, growing in his sweatpants and rubbing against your thigh the closer your bodies were.

“I have never wanted someone so bad,” He whispered in a soft ache. 

His hands crept underneath your shirt, brushing against your skin, pressing against the small of your back. Pressing his torso towards you, his erection adhered to your thigh, the tension coiling in your stomach burned like wildfire, at an unstoppable rage. “Minghao,” you mewled, impatience singeing on your tongue.

“Somehow, I can still taste coffee on your breath, but I don't really mind it. It tastes really good on you,” He admitted before kissing you deeper, his moans buzzing against your mouth, hungry and alive as his hands dug into your flesh with utter greed.

“You taste really good too.” Your hand body scoured south, cupping his size under your palm and tasting his gasp as you sucked him between your lips. “I wonder what else tastes good.”

“You are something else,” he mumbled, through quiet chuckles. “Just like you to act on impulse.”

You let out a light scoff. “You are so—”

“Don’t start things you can’t finish,” he softly warned with a smirk.

“I’m not the one you have to worry about finishing.”

You moved down, the covers draped over your head as you kept your eyes on him and resting on the hem of his sweats. Minghao’s breath hitched in his throat, gulping while he felt your nails lightly claw against his bare torso, tugging the waistband off the tent he forged, revealing the lack of underwear and restraint he had left, now sprung against your face.

“Shit,” you said grinning, claiming him by the shaft, thumbing over the precum glistening at the tip. “Even your cock looks pretty.”

A soft pink decorated his cheeks and a hand meekly shielded part of his face. “You staring is how I got myself hurt in the first place.”

“Then I’ll be careful not to hurt you this time—that is, unless you want me to.”

You spat on his cock, a translucent ribbon stretching from your tongue to his length. Your saliva lubing your knuckles, you squeezed his girth in your grip as you stroked and felt him pulse in your hands, growing bigger the tighter you clenched. Minghao’s arms propped himself up and behind him as his chest heaved, blood pumping with every drag of your fingers, shallow breaths slipping out of him as he fisted the sheets beneath him.

You kissed the curve of the head, lips pursed to wrap lightly around him, suckling down his shaft, and feeling him twitch against your mouth when you chuckled. He softly whined, his hand extended toward you to tenderly caress the side of your head and tacitly pleading with you as you teased him. Showing him mercy, you took him with an eager mouth, closing your lips around his cock as you steadied your gaze on him. Moans vibrating around his girth, your tongue tucked on the underside of his shaft, hands wrapped tightly around his base.

“Mmmh like that.” He swallowed, exhaling through his teeth the deeper you took him. His abdomen flexing overtly as you moaned around him, vibrated against his skin, your pink muscle tracing over his veins as you worked your jaw to hug a tighter grip. “God, you’re perfect. Don’t stop, please…” he panted.

He palmed at your hair headily, his motor skills not properly functioning as he sucked in his breath, feeling his presence explore deeper. He leveraged his hips to regain some ounce of control, but the sounds of moisture and squelching burned his ears, and the heart in his chest was running like a marathon. His eyes, fluttering in and out of focus, trained his gaze on you while his stomach tensed, grasping the vision of you getting wide-eyed and bold as you gingerly ate him alive. Burning the image into his retinas, it made him want to explode inside you.

Threading through your hair, he pulled them up and off your shoulders, showing off your pretty features, doing everything in his power not to give his climax an early appearance. “I’ve never seen such a pretty mouth take my cock so well. Then again, I’ve never had a pretty roommate like you, or anyone like you.”

Flustered from the flattery, you sucked him like your life depended on it as you grew hot, making Minghao’s task to regain control strenuous to achieve. You hollowed out your cheeks, leaving no room to breathe, and felt him in your throat as your vision rolled to behind your skull to the point your language deduced to the sounds of gagging. You gripped his hips, nails plunged into his flesh as your drool dribbled down his groin, slobbering over his cock in an erratic, hungry mess.

“Yes, like that. My god,” He praised through ragged breaths, hips jerking gently up into you. He lightly threw his head back, the urge to ram himself down your throat getting exceedingly more tempting, but he suppressed it as he dug his nails into his own palms. “I’m so close to cumming, can I–in your mouth or should I…?”

You hummed a confirmation before you swallowed him whole until you met the base, meeting his groin as he vanished inside you, breathing oxygen not even an afterthought. Images in front of you dulled in color, pictures shapeless and unclear, and you pushed past your boundaries to let him find home in your mouth, deeply intent with him finishing inside you one way or the other.

“F…f…fuck...”

Pleasure rippling through him, Minghao pushed himself up from his position, thrusting weakly as he cradled your head, pouring his thick, ivory load into your mouth, which was insistent on receiving every drop. He filled your cheeks, allowing warmth to coat the inside of your mouth as he tenderly stroked your hair in gratitude. Cupping your cheeks as he let his hips falter, he gently pulled himself out of your mouth, amused at how carefully you were trying to not let any of his cum seep past your lips as you sat between his legs.

His fingers danced under your chin. “Are you gonna swallow?” Minghao tiredly chuckled.

With smiling eyes, you tilted your head, as if asking if you should.

He pushed your hair behind you, softly pressing his lips against your tightly shut lips. “Don’t if you don’t want to.”

An idea occurred to you then, and in an instant you pushed yourself up to board him as your knees took either side of him, looming over him. His hands naturally found your waist as you lifted his chin, eyes staring at you curiously as his hands ran up body and gently clawed down, awaiting your next move. You then thumbed over his bottom lip before dipping between the slit of his mouth and saw it naturally part, taking the digit and settling it between his teeth.

Now confidently, you lowered your head, swirling the contents in your mouth before pushing your thumb deeper, prying the entrance wider, and finding no protest as he sanctioned it. He dug the pads of his digits into your flesh in anticipation. His eyes fluttering, he watched as your mouth withdrew the generous gift he gave to you before you gave it right back to him as it gracefully streamed down on his pulsing, eager tongue. And nothing satisfied you more than hearing him sigh wistfully as it landed.

It sent you shivers how beautiful he looked despite how vulgar the act was. Only Xu Minghao could make tasting his own cum look so ethereal, and it only made you wonder what other things a face this beautiful was willing to do. You swiped whatever fell from the corner of his lips with your thumb, sucking the residue like leftovers before you connected your mouths, sharing and tasting his lewd tang in violent swirls, and pulling away to watch it stretch between your tongues.

“I guess toothbrushes aren’t the only things you like to share,” Minghao teased before pushing you on your back, grinding his resurrecting arousal against your clothed heat and lathering the thick, viscous substance flat between your tongues in your mouths as it dribbled down your chins until there was nothing but slobber. It was a mess, and the most unmannerly you’ve ever seen him, and you’ve never been more turned on.

“My turn.”

With a rough hand, he tugged you by your legs towards him, hearing you let out a yelp, and shoved down your shorts to expose your glistening, mouth-watering, arousal soaked entrance. Be still his heart. He felt himself throb seeing you ruin his bed, but hell if he wasn't going to be sucking those juices out of the sheets until he’d tasted every drop.

He kicked off his sweats, leaving him entirely vulnerable while you witnessed his cock slowly twitch back to life before he laid on his stomach between your arched legs. “If we want to talk about pretty things, your pussy is high up on that list.”

Not waiting for a response, he licked a thick stripe up your inner thigh, flickering over your folds before sucking them in his mouth, using the tip of his tongue to tease your entrance. He felt the flutter of your core before spitting, lathering at the juices, coating at entrance but not peeking to see what was inside. “You’re already so wet, fuck.” 

“Hao…” You whined.

“Mmmh, I love how you sound,” he chuckled, running long strokes up your slit, wedged through you with every swipe, looking arm around your leg to hold you in place as his thumb brushed over your clit. “Are your moans always this delicious? Or are they reserved for when you’re thinking about me?” 

Shaking your head, you were too turned on to answer verbally, while his mouth closed around your clit and sucked, utilizing his fingers to assume their previous position. You clenched your stomach, fisting into the sheets as you spread your legs, feeling them already clam up from the tension as his tongue flicked against your sensitive bud in unison with his fingers twisted up into, and you couldn’t help but writhe underneath him.

“Yes, spread those pretty legs for me,” he encouraged with a haughty smile before burying his face, his moans vibrating up your walls as his tongue massaged your walls and tasted your cock pulsing nectar, sending chills up your spine.

You mewled, and feeling reserved, you held your hands up to your face to shield the tears collecting at your eyes threatening to fall, but Minghao grabbed you by the wrists, roughly pinning them to the bed.

His eyes narrowed back at you before softening almost menacingly, “Don’t cover your pretty face, watch me.”

“But—”

“I want you to watch me fuck your pretty pussy with my mouth. Don’t make me say it twice.” He warned before he got you a quiet nod, earning you a kiss against your inner thigh.

His hand flattened against your inner thighs again, pressing them further away from another and delving his tongue deeper as he rubbed your clit, working your insides until he tasted every inch of you possible. He buried his face, but his eyes were clear, staring at you as he worked his jaw, engorging with his mouth that sent you above and beyond and his eyes that saw you at the result of your undoing. You had no choice but to cling on, freeing yourself from his grasp to have your fingers fly in his hair, navigating him as you took him for a joy ride, his tongue shifting gears as it picked up pace.

“S-shit!” You rolled your hips, threading your fingers through his locks and clamping his head between your thighs as you pushed him deeper.

“Yes, ride my face—fuck, use me, please,” he pleaded in a cracked voice, pouring his heart into his feast until he was practically suffocating, worth it to worship you and bring you to the highest peak of your pleasure.

Your legs trembled as his moans infiltrated your heat, the intense flicks of his tongue titillating you to the brink of ecstasy until he used it to fuck you in time with his fingers thrusting inside, clutching you as you held him in place and grinding against him. “My god, Hao!”

Hips shaking, you bucked into his mouth, and even after your release, he made no effort to stop, lifting you to his mouth as he got on his knees, eating you like a meal he’d never have again until he worked his tongue raw, tasting you and only you as your cum coated his mouth. You squirmed, the suction of his lips on your sensitive core in tandem with his tongue viciously swirling inside you overwhelming you beyond words, unable to kick him off as he held both your knees above his head.

“You’re gonna kill me, Hao,” you cried desperately. “Just put it in me.”

He chuckled before setting you down, meeting your lips halfway as he stroked his fully erect cock, massaging the evening’s concoction against your tastebuds, mingling the contrasting flavors as they battled in your mouth while the knowledge of it all pebbled your skin. Meanwhile, he ran his hands over you beneath your shirt, found your nipples, rolling them against his thumbs as his cock rubbed between your folds, ebbing your moans as they buzzed against his lips. “What if I want to play with you first?” He taunted.

You whined, brushing your lips repeatedly over his. “I want you inside me.”

“You’re cute even when you’re needy,” he gushed.

You clasped your hands over his soft, warm cheeks. “Minghao, please…”

He playfully rolled his eyes, kissing into your palm then down your wrist before his teeth playfully started nibbling at your skin. “Fine, because you asked so nicely. Just to let you know, though, I don’t have a condom on me right now, but I’m clean.”

“Then, we don’t need one.”

He grinned, stroking the back of your head. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Rubbing his tip down your slit, he savored your whimpers as he drew circles against your clit before sliding his length through your folds and stretching your walls, letting you slowly adjust to his presence. Your jaw slightly dropped as you took a sharp inhale, fingers digging into his shoulders and clinging on to him before you felt him sink deeper inside you, pacing his thrusts in a steady rhythm. Your eyes flit to meet his, feeling the back and forth of his hips as they snapped, while you reveled in each collision.

“Yes please…”

Before losing himself in his pleasure, he was determined to remember how you looked getting lost in yours, taking in your features as they distorted under his care. He first found your eyes–lost in a galaxy with an infinite amount of stars out of the way. Then, his eyes started to follow the slope of your cheeks, flushed to the touch against the back of his hand, saliva leaking out of your swollen lips. And your body with the shirt adhered to you by the sweat on your skin, clinging to your form and proving to him time and time again that you were not only the object of his desires, you were something straight out of his dreams.

“You look, taste, and feel good? Where have you been all my life? Really?” He landed a harsh thrust, pressing down on your nipples and smiling manically at how you whimpered in response, clutching you as you shuddered against him. “You like that?”

You nodded, clawing your hand up his back.

“Mmh, me too,” he drew his lips to your ear. “And I like you. A lot. I wouldn’t let someone go on and use my toothbrush for months if I didn’t.” He slowed down his thrusts, cupping your face to meet your eyes. “You like me too, right?”

Feeling your ears burn, you frantically nodded again, mewling after you felt him nip at them, teeth scraping under your earlobe before an open mouth pressed against the side of your neck. The warmth of his breath sweltering against you as you struggled to carry on with the conversation Minghao was determined to have.

“Yeah, you want me to take you on a real date?” He said into the nape of your neck, moaning into your skin as he dragged his hips, rutting into you like an animal.  He barely made out your soft ‘yes’s in your sharp gasps. He gritted his teeth, taking you by the hips, pushing himself flushed against you. “Fuck, you’re so cute,” he groaned.

His hips took flight while he separated your mouth in a loud moan, feeling you becoming malleable under his touch and growing weaker as you recoiled against him. He lifted your shirt above your chest and neared your stiff peaks, rolling your bud against the base of his tongue as he pinched the other, moving out of pure instinct. You threw your head back, going mad with sexual gratification. Your body spasmed out of your control, yet you craved more.

“Harder,” You gasped.

He scoffed under his breath in disbelief. “You want even more?”

“Yes…I want you to cum inside me. I want to feel everything that’s yours, Minghao.”

Knees buckling at your titillating request, he gripped your ass in both palms, clutching you against him as he rammed himself up inside you, and you’re forced to hold on. “I’ll do you one better,” he offered, “why don’t I just make you mine?”

“I…Oh, god…” Your brain was becoming mush, only processing the sound, taste, smell, sensation of Minghao’s cock as he plunged himself inside you. It fogged up your thoughts, clouded your judgement, and only formed incoherent gibberish that took place of real vocabulary as they passed through your swollen lips.

“Be mine, hmm?” He asked, pleading. “That way I can be yours.”

Captivated by his words, you nodded, feeling him suck the life out of you as your body felt close to giving out, the hilt of his cock bottoming out inside you. You anchored your legs around him, following his pace before you felt something within reach, just seconds away from ripping a scream out of your throat that would surely ensue a noise complaint from one of your neighbors.

“Hao, I’m going to cum, I’m really close,” you meekly warned.

His hand settled against your thigh, nodding. “I can feel it. You’re shaking so hard. Let me have it, I’ll catch you. Every last bit of you.”

Ecstasy was just a word, but Minghao was everything, and you could breathe in that everything. 

Your bodies crushed against each other, lost in heat as you became one. Breaths blended, bodies embraced, only faltering after you long finished the initial orgasms, coming back for more. You embraced  the sheer carnivorous lust that quelled this several month long push and pull, adhering you by the sweat misted on each other's skin before your mouths tenderly met repeatedly.

Sleep felt futile, while the night felt everlasting. Minghao’s company was more than you could ever ask for, and by the time you did sleep, you were too tired to move. You collapsed against each other, bodies drowning in each other’s releases, sheets and pillows stained by the arousal from the evening’s lack of inhibitions. Minghao should’ve been just as tired, but instead he tended to your tired body, leaving kisses in its wake as he cleaned you off and slept alongside you in your clean bed, letting him worry about laundry in the morning.

With your eyes closed, mind in another world, Minghao was brushing the hair away from your face, softly smiling as you gently stirred and nestled closer to him. In response, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, warmth blooming in his chest as a grin developed on your face.

“I’ll take you on a proper date. I promise,” he said while you slept. “And If I don’t, pull the bad roommate card on me. You can punish me however you like.”

“…ok, I will.”

[thoughtfulfiction]

Friend zone? End zone.

Author’s note: Anon requested🧡

July

Packing everything up and moving to France with no idea where you'd live or how you were going to make money, to study under some of the most well known pastry giants in the world was...crazy. But somehow, opening up your own bake shop in Cincinnati felt even more like you were losing the last hold on your sanity. You didn't know anyone here, no friends or family nearby, but Velvet Clementine was your dream. And today, the dream smelled like vanilla, caramelized sugar, and the bright zest of fresh clementines, located in the middle of the Queen City. You had your own staff, granted it was four people but still, you were the owner, the boss, of your very own place.

Cincinnati had been your home for six weeks when the bell chimed, and two men—tall enough to make your display case look like a dollhouse—ducked into the shop. They moved with effortless confidence, their voices a low rumble of laughter as they scanned the display case with the focus of someone choosing their last meal. You watched them pile on various pastries, looking through the rows of mini pain au chocolat, almond croissants and pastel de nata. The mini fruit tarts featuring clementines and red velvet cakes were the items that made you fall in love with baking, hence the name of the place. The shorter man reached for a tart, its glossy colorful slices glistening under the bakery lights, nestled in a bed of creamy white chocolate mousse. You watched as the other one picked up a croissant, giving it a slight squeeze—a soft crackle of delicate layers breaking beneath his fingers. They seemed satisfied with their various selections, happily walking over to the register, the tall one flashing his almost sinfully perfect smile as he paid for everything. You thanked them for coming in and sent them on their way.

"You can't be serious, how did you not say anything?" Your sous chef Quinn let out a breath she had probably been holding since the two guys walked through the door.

"What are you talking about?"

She scoffed, remembering the fact that you’d lived in Europe the last few years so their presence didn’t hold much weight. She tossed a dish towel over her shoulder as she turned to face you, “they’re Bengals, babe. Like, literal football gods. Also, it helps that they’re stupidly attractive."

You hummed, processing everything she just threw at you. "Well, that part I did notice. And they’re freakishly...big. Good thing we made extras of everything, because I think they just wiped out half the front shelf."

Quinn laughed, stepping around you to check for herself. "I have a shelf they can—sorry."

"Okay easy tiger,” you let out a laugh, “they're gone. Are we still on for drinks tonight?"

"Oh absolutely, I definitely need a martini or three after seeing the best receiving duo in the game, in person. My boyfriend is actually going to lose his mind when I tell him."

You shake your head with a smile on your face, walking back to the kitchen to restock, the scent of butter and cocoa bean filling the air as you slip behind the counter to arrange the freshly baked tarts.

Much to your surprise, they were back three days later. The door sounded again, and the tall one walked up to you, his broad shoulders barely fitting in the doorway. "I'm Tee."

"Hi Tee," you smile, surprised. "Didn't expect to see you back so soon. Or your friend over there." Tee turns around to find Ja'Marr loading up on cheesecakes this time, not paying attention to anything else. The sight of him, mouth half-full of a pastry, causes you to chuckle.

"I didn't either but...damn. You the owner?"

You nod, hesitant but flattered.

"Excuse my language, but yo, this shit fire—like man. We had to come get some more. Everything’s made fresh, from... scratch?"

"Yeah, every morning I get here at like 5:30 and we bake everything. From scratch."

Ja'marr appears next to him, holding a mini crème brulee. "You are VERY good at your job. You'll be seeing a lot of us now that we're back for the season. Swear you weren't here when I left Cincy, how long you been here?"

"Stop, it's not that great.” You wave him off as he continues to nod profusely, holding up his latest find with wild eyes as you laugh again. “And I've been here a little over a month, just moved to Cincinnati actually."

"From?" Ja'Marr pipes up, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

"France, lived there for a few years to perfect my pastry skills and really focus on my craft."

"That's crazy, I just got back from Paris for Fashion Week. The food was amazing and looks like the classes worked cause you definitely know what you're doing."

"Thank you guys. And spread the word will you? I heard you two are kind of a big deal around here."

"Something like that, we appreciate you for these," Tee flashes a wide grin, holding up the bag as he thanks you one more time, "you'll see us back here soon."

The next day they returned the favor and since you'd been feeding them, they wanted to take you to a special spot downtown to really introduce you to the city. Of course you brought Quinn with you. Her boyfriend didn't believe this was actually happening until he Facetimed her and saw the guys for himself. It was nice to finally feel like you'd met people you got along with without having to try to be anyone but yourself. Over the next few weeks while exploring the Cincinnati food scene, you found out that Tee and Ja'marr were funny, sweet and kind, just two guys enjoying the last few weeks of the offseason before training camp ramped up. Both of them were in the midst of contract negotiations, having to explain to you the ins and outs of NFL life. They appreciated that you didn't care about their status and never asked unless they started the conversation and you loved having people around that made this city feel so much less like a foreign country.

Ja'Marr strolled in one morning with a grin, practically bouncing on his feet as he leaned across the counter. "Hey, so listen...you gotta make those mini cakes for my housewarming on Saturday. I mean, you have to be there, since we’re your best friends now and all. It’s only right."

Quinn, who had been wiping down the counter, stopped mid-motion and squinted at him. "Excuse me? So now I’m invisible? You’re just gonna act like I wasn’t the one keeping her entertained before you waltzed in with your designer sweatpants and phenomenal taste in bakeries? Some people." She shakes her head in mock disbelief.

Ja'Marr smirked, completely unbothered. "Anyway, Imma ignore that. Jealous isn't a good look on you Quinn." He quickly turns his attention back to you, "so...you'll be there Saturday right? I'll text you the address."

"Yes, I'll be there."

"And so will I, since we wanna exclude people from the conversation." Quinn adds in from behind you.

Ja'Marr, clearly pleased with his victory, flashed a grin as he turned to leave. "Speaking in third person? You know what I'll just see y'all Saturday." Before heading out, he shot you one more look over his shoulder. "Don’t forget, mini cakes."

As he walked out, Quinn glanced at you, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Looks like you’ve got some serious new friends now, huh?"

"We," you correct her, "we have some serious friends new friends now."

As a business owner, you prided yourself in being a professional. Even at your friend's party, you wanted to be more than on time and make the cakes look as pretty as possible. Quinn had joined you in the last-minute preparations, both of you arriving an hour before the gathering started to get things in order. The large living room was already buzzing—caterers setting up a lavish buffet, trays full of appetizers being placed on side tables. Some of Ja'Marr’s friends, who you assumed were visiting from Louisiana, lounged in the corner, their laughs echoing over the low hum of video game sound effects.

You and Quinn worked in tandem, setting the delicate mini cakes on a table near the center, the soft scent of the various flavors filled the room as you arranged the treats just so. You hadn’t even noticed Ja'Marr and Tee walking towards you until Ja'Marr's voice cut through the conversation.

"You brought my favorite ones, that’s so sweet. I am gonna tear. These. Up." His grin was wide as he took in the display of your pastries while wiggling his fingers.

"Be classy, please," you teased, glancing at him, "we don’t want your neighbors thinking a wild animal moved in next door."

"Nah, it’s cool," Ja'Marr shrugged nonchalantly, glancing down to check his phone. "I think one of the neighbors just got here."

The door clicked open, and in walked a tall figure. Your breath caught slightly in your chest as your gaze followed the man’s movement. His striking blue eyes swept across the room, a faraway intensity to his expression that made it seem like he was seeing more than just the people around him. There was a quiet confidence to his posture, the kind of calm authority that made him impossible to miss. His light brown hair, a little tousled in that effortless, perfect way, gave him the air of someone who had just stepped out of a high-end catalog.

"Burrow!" Ja'Marr exclaimed, his voice shifting into an easy familiarity. "Damn...I’m really surprised you here. Didn’t think you were leaving the house for a year after your little world tour."

"We went to the same country," Joe replied, his voice steady and slightly dry. "And it was just one." He gave Ja'Marr a side hug, but the moment was strange—a quick pinky shake that made you tilt your head, wondering what it meant. Something about it felt oddly intimate.

Ja’Marr turned his attention to you. "You remember that bakery we been tellin' you about? This is Y/N, the owner. We kinda best friends now so you need to get used to seeing her around. And that's Quinn, they're a package deal."

"Nice to meet you both." Joe’s voice was smooth, but there was a slight tension in the air as he extended his hand.

You reached for it, but Quinn—who had been standing beside you—was frozen. Her eyes were wide, staring at Joe like he was some kind of myth brought to life. The words she'd been about to say caught in her throat, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to process the moment. The seconds stretched on, but she didn't seem able to move, her usual confidence wiped away by her starstruck shock.

You nudged her lightly with your elbow, snapping her back to reality. She blinked, her expression changing in an instant. “Sorry,” she said quickly, her voice higher-pitched than usual as she shook Joe’s hand. “It’s just—um—I'm, like, a huge fan. My boyfriend, too. He’s gonna lose his shit when I tell him I met Joe Burrow.”

Joe’s eyebrow raised slightly, a small, amused smile pulling at his lips as he noticed her flustered reaction. He let out a soft chuckle. "Well, nice to meet you, Quinn."

You laughed softly, shaking your head at Quinn, trying to play it off while feeling your own pulse steadily increasing. Quinn, still flushed from her sudden nervousness, was no longer frozen but her eyes were still glued to Joe, unable to hide the awe on her face.

"Okay, now that we've got that out of the way," Ja'Marr said, clearly enjoying the shift in energy. "I know you don't play about your diet but when I tell you these cakes are the best thing I've ever put in my body? I'm being serious."

Before you can roll your eyes or downplay it, the homeowner stops you. "Don't even think about it, I don't wanna hear none of that. We just need to get him to try one."

Joe grabs one with a Biscoff cookie on top and takes a bite, completely unfazed by the fact that everyone is watching. "Wow, this is. This is incredible. I get why they won't shut up about your place. This is really good."

"Thank you," you laugh softly, trying to push down the weird sense of nervousness pooling in your chest. "And thanks for breaking your strict diet to try it, that means a lot."

He nods and more people start to show up so Ja'Marr leaves to greet them and Tee grabs a few tiny cakes for himself, Quinn asking him if he wants a plate. Everyone moved on from the previous conversation but as you made eye contact with Joe, something unexpected happened—a flicker of recognition, of something unspoken, passing between the two of you. His gaze held yours for just a heartbeat longer than usual, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the room had melted away. Although you didn’t really want to, you ignored that feeling and focused on enjoying the night.

You and Quinn moved around the party, getting to know different groups of people, mingling with different players on the team, their significant others and she had to explain to you who all these people were. Of course you'd heard the names before, the buzz around the city the closer the players got to training camp and to the season actually starting. But if years in Europe had taught you anything, it was that sports fans are obsessively dedicated and somehow now you had also become an honorary Bengals fan because of Ja'Marr and Tee. And you couldn't wait to cheer them on. But right now? You couldn't wait to be home and in bed.

The exhaustion of the being up since 4:30 in the morning was continuously creeping up on you. The noise and the laughter mixing with the smells of rich food and the clinking of glasses was all becoming a bit too much after a long week of work. Your mind was constantly racing, your body tired and your spirit longed for some peace and quiet.

You slipped outside into the cool evening air, the chill of the night sky a welcome relief from the heat of the crowded room you'd successfully slipped out of. The city buzzed faintly in the distance, but it felt like a different world out here, away from the chatter and the constant movement.

You leaned against the porch railing, closing your eyes for a moment to just breathe.

The door clicked open behind you, and for some reason you knew exactly who it was. His presence was unmistakable.

“Didn’t expect you to be out here,” Joe’s voice was low, a little gruff but soft in the quiet of the night.

You didn’t answer right away, too focused on the quiet of the moment to form any words. You’d seen Joe around the party—he’d been laughing and chatting, looking perfectly at ease, but now he seemed... different. There was something in the way he stood, in the way he gazed at the horizon, that told you his social battery had run out just like yours had.

“You all good?” Joe asked after a beat, his voice a little more concerned than you expected.

You nodded, finally turning to face him. “Yeah. Just needed a minute. It’s...a lot, sometimes, you know? New city, new life, always on the go.”

Joe looked at you for a long moment, as though weighing something in his mind. “I get it,” he said quietly. “I’ve had days where I just need to...step away for a second. Guess we both needed some air, huh?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. Two people who seemed like they could handle anything, both seeking a quiet moment to themselves, at the same time. You glanced at him, noting the way his hands were shoved deep in his pockets, his jaw slightly tense. He wasn’t trying to fill the silence with empty words or forced jokes, and for that, you appreciated it.

Neither of you spoke for a while, just standing there in the cool night air, the sounds of the party muffled behind the door. For the first time, you felt the world slow down a little.

Joe shifted, and you glanced over, catching the faintest flicker of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Tee and Ja’Marr won’t shut up about you. Guess it’s my turn to see what all the hype is about."

You smiled back, the moment stretching on, neither of you in a rush to move. "Hope I don’t disappoint."

Ja'Marr had you over a few nights later to go over some film with you to get you ready for "the most important season of your life." Tee walked into the living room holding an iPad full of notes, including the presumed depth chart for week 1. Joe sat on the opposite couch, a water bottle on the table in front of him. They gave you a rundown on what everybody's role is on the team starting with Joe.

"He's QB1, you know. Heart of the team, he's our leader." The more he talked, the more it sounded like he was reciting wedding vows to his quarterback, who looked like he was bored out of his mind. You glanced over at him, but he didn’t react, just sipped his water and let Ja’Marr ramble on. You had barely spoken to him all day—just small glances here and there without taking it any further.

The same thing happened the next day. And the day after that.

Finally, you spoke up. "You're not a man of many words, are you?"

Joe barely looked up as he responded, "Depends on who it is and what they're asking." His tone was casual, but there was a weight to it, like he didn’t give away words freely. Like almost every human interaction he had was a secret interview prying into his personal life.

"Okay, well, you've attended three sessions of my exclusive Bengals 101 class, and you've barely said a word," you pointed out, shifting on the couch to face him. "But yet, every day, you're here."

"I love football," he said simply, taking another sip of water. Then he set the bottle down, finally looking at you. "And I would hate for the newest football fan of the crew to be confused in the middle of the Jungle."

"Is that what they call it? The Jungle?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at the fact that he may have just cracked a joke.

Joe gave you a half-smirk and nodded. "It gets pretty wild, Y/N," he said, standing up and patting you lightly on the back as he walked past. "You better be ready."

He always kept interactions short, never going out of his way to talk to you in group settings, refusing to join the group chat that Tee had created with you, Ja'Marr, and Quinn. Instead of treating him like an onion who needed to be peeled, you just went with it and tried to lean in and embrace his dry sense of humor.

One night, you plopped down next to him on the couch. "Hey," you said casually, tilting your head to study him. "I was just wondering—do you ever smile? Like, unprompted? Or do you just reserve happy Joe for the comfort of your gigantic house when you're alone watching SpongeBob reruns?"

Joe turned his head slightly, his lips twitching into a smirk before he quickly looked away, trying to hide it.

Too bad for him—you caught every second of it.

A few hours later, as you cleaned up after another “film session”, you caught Joe watching you from across the room. Not in an obvious way—more like he was trying to figure something out, like you were a broken play he was seeing on his tablet.

He left without saying much, as always. You figured he preferred sticking to his usual routine—keeping his world small, guarded and unbelievably predictable.

So, when you saw him on the other side of Quinn's door after days of radio silence holding several bags of food, you almost dropped the bottle of wine in your hand.

"You know, you probably shouldn't have tipped that delivery guy. He just handed me these bags when I told him I was coming up here. I could've just been some horrible person stealing a perfectly good breakup recovery meal."

"I think because you're...you know—you? He probably would've handed you anything. I’m surprised he didn't ask for a selfie."

“Oh, he did,” Joe deadpanned, shifting the bags in his arms. “I signed the receipt instead. How's Quinn?"

"Honestly? She said she saw it coming, but it still sucks. You can come in."

Before long, everyone had found a spot, the coffee table now covered in takeout containers, the aroma of fried rice and lo-mein filling the air. The soft glow of the TV flickered across the dimly lit living room as Quinn sat curled up in the corner of the couch, picking at her food while Tee animatedly recounted his worst breakup story.

“At least your ex didn’t break up with you via emoji,” Tee said, waving his fork.

Ja’Marr nearly choked on his drink. “You lyin’.”

“Bro, she deadass sent me a salute emoji and just—gone.”

Quinn let out a weak laugh, shaking her head. “Okay, that’s tragic.”

“Exactly. So if I survived that, you’ll survive this.” Tee nudged her with his elbow.

The weight in the room had started to ease, the heaviness of Quinn’s breakup quickly turned into a lighter and softer energy. You sat on the couch sharing a blanket with her, almost having to force yourself into finishing your food because it was unfortunately your first real meal of the day. Joe sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat of him, his knee brushing against yours every time one of you shifted. You told yourself it was nothing.

Every once in a while, your eyes met—quick glances during a particularly funny scene, a knowing look when Ja’Marr started yelling at the TV. He was more relaxed tonight, his usual quiet guardedness giving way to something looser, something easy.

For the first time since moving to Cincinnati, you felt it. That feeling of belonging. Of finding your people.

Quinn let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning her head against your shoulder. “I guess I’ll survive.”

“You definitely will,” you reassured her, placing your hand on hers, giving it a squeeze.

Joe shifted beside you, his voice low. “You picked a hell of a crew to stick with.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze, something unreadable in his expression.

“Could be worse,” you teased, nudging his leg slightly.

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. For a second, it seemed like he might say something else—but instead, he just reached for an egg roll.

After that night, things started to shift more toward football. The usual late-night hangs became less frequent, the group chat more active with reminders about packing lists and schedules. Training camp was looming, and you could feel the weight of it, even though you weren’t the one suiting up.

One night at Ja’Marr’s, Tee stretched out on the couch, scrolling through his phone. "This is our last free weekend before camp. Y’all better soak it in.”

Quinn groaned. “Ugh. That means my social life is about to take a massive hit.”

Ja’Marr snorted. “Don’t act like we don’t have days off. We just gon be tired as hell.”

Joe wasn’t there that night—he’d taken off for a few days on his annual lake trip, something about needing to “reset.” Not that you were keeping tabs on his whereabouts or anything, but the house felt quieter without him.

Then, two nights before camp started, he walked into Ja’Marr’s house like nothing was different.

Except, everything was different.

Tee was mid-sentence when he noticed, his words dying in his throat as he squinted at Joe. “Boy, what the hell?”

Ja’Marr turned, eyes widening. "Nah. No way."

You blinked. “Did you—did you shave your head?”

Joe barely reacted, setting his keys down like this was any other day. “Yeah.”

“And bleach it?” Quinn added in, looking intrigued...and a little scared.

“Yep.”

Tee leaned forward, inspecting him like he was some rare species. “You look like a villain in a Fast & Furious movie.”

Joe smirked, rubbing a hand over his buzzed, bleach-blond head. “Perfect.”

Ja’Marr was still in shock. “Bro, what possessed you?”

Joe shrugged, completely unbothered. “Felt like it.”

You tried to stifle a laugh, shaking your head. Of course. The most dramatic change of the offseason, and he acted like it was nothing.

Quinn tilted her head, appraising him. “You know what? I don’t hate it.”

Ja’Marr ran a hand down his face, groaning. “Man, now we gotta deal with this version of Joe all season.”

Joe just grinned, casually grabbing a side salad off the counter like he hadn’t just broken everyone’s brains. Training camp hadn’t even started yet, and he was already causing chaos.

Quinn, Tee, and Ja’Marr burst out laughing, looking at each other with wide grins. "Hold up—do y'all realize what this means?" Tee pointed between them. "We all got buzzcuts now."

Ja’Marr gasped, nodding. "Oh, it’s a sign. We're about to be in sync this season. Chemistry off the charts."

Quinn snorted. "What, like you're the bald-headed Avengers?"

Tee clapped his hands. "Nah, we’re like…an Olympic relay team. Faster, stronger, better communication."

Joe shook his head, amused. "You guys are ridiculous."

"You say that now, but just wait," Ja’Marr said, stroking his chin like he was cooking up a master plan. "I'm over here manifesting greatness."

Joe just rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his food, but then he caught your expression. You were dying to say something. "Go ahead, tell me what you really think. I've heard a few. Cody Rhodes, Eminem..."

"I was gonna say a more attractive version of Jonah Hill in the 21 Jump Street flashback scenes."

Tee and Ja’Marr lost it. Ja’Marr literally had to grab the counter for support, and Tee was staggering away, gasping between wheezes. "Bro, I can see it!"

Joe stared at you, lips pressing together like he was physically restraining himself from laughing. "That’s just hurtful."

"You asked." You bit back a grin.

The chaos continued around you, but somehow, it ended up just the two of you standing there as the others got distracted by something else.

You hesitated. You shouldn’t ask. But you did.

"Why did you do it?" You tried to sound casual. "Your hair looked fine—I mean, more than fine—but… why?"

Joe leaned against the counter, arms crossing over his chest. His lips twitched like he was about to say something stupid. Then—

"I want frosted tips."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"And I’ve never seen anyone actually look good when they just go get them, so I’m doing it the natural way."

You just stared at him. "Joe. This is the most insane way to get blond highlights, and you know it."

"Sorry you feel that way," he said, totally unbothered. "But I don’t do things halfway. Go big or go home."

He said it so casually, but the way he was looking at you? That was dangerous. The kind of look that made the room feel a little too warm, made your stomach do an annoying little flip. His icy blue eyes held yours just a second too long—long enough for you to realize that you should run for your life.

Because if you stayed here any longer, you might have to admit that you were developing a teeny, tiny, completely inconvenient crush on Joe Burrow.

August

Having a crush as an adult kind of feels like you're having a heart attack. You could be completely fine one second and then suddenly your entire being was consumed with thoughts of him so vivid it made your chest hurt.

The first preseason game was finally here, giving you the perfect excuse to focus on literally anything else. Your first tailgate was an experience, that morning of the game was by far the busiest day you'd ever experienced. Pre-orders were being picked up left and right, mini pies and cheesecakes were snatched off the shelves before 11am and the only thing that remained by the time all of you left the shop at 2pm was a lone batch of cupcakes that you ended up giving away for free at the stadium. It was easy promo.

Paycor Stadium felt like magic. A chaotic, slightly unhinged kind of magic. Fans were everywhere—some already drunk, all of them decked out in orange, fully prepared to dedicate their mental health to a 53-man roster for the next several months. You just wanted to see your friends do what they loved—well, at least two of them, since Ja’Marr was in the middle of a holdout. Or, technically, a hold-in, since he was still around the building but not practicing. You were still trying to grasp the nuances of contract negotiations, and honestly, you needed a few more Bengals 101 cramming sessions to feel more confident in your abilities to explain the situation, if anyone were to ask.

Time slowed when Joe stepped onto the field. And the stadium erupted when he threw a touchdown to none other than Tee. You swore you saw a couple of fans crying, which was kind of heartwarming but also a little funny, considering they didn’t know him personally.

Joe hadn’t talked much about his wrist injury or the recovery process after surgery, and you never wanted to pry. You figured he’d open up when he was ready. But as you watched him out there, commanding the field like nothing had ever been wrong, you couldn’t help but wonder if it had been as easy as he made it look.

He commanded the field like he commanded every room he entered. You met up with him, Ja'Marr, Tee, Quinn and a bunch of his friends from Athens along with his family to gather at his house, not only because it was the beginning of the season, but it was also a new beginning for him post surgery. The celebration was on, laughter and quiet music filling every corner of the house. You couldn't really hear it, but it had to be from Joe's never ending playlist filled with Gunna and Kid Cudi songs. People drifted in and out of conversations, drinks in hand, taking in the importance of indulging in the calm before the storm of the regular season.

At some point, you found yourself in the kitchen, away from the noise, refilling your drink. You weren’t alone for long.

Joe lingered in the doorway for a second before stepping into the kitchen, leaning against the counter beside you. His presence was quiet but steady, like he was still deciding if he wanted to speak.

For a moment, the two of you stood next to each other silently. You were perfectly happy listening to the muffled sounds of the party happening in the next room. Then, finally, he exhaled, his voice low enough that it almost got lost in the noise.

“I um—I cried last night.”

You turned to him, startled by the sudden confession. His gaze stayed on the counter, fingers idly tracing the grain of the wood.

“There were nights when I thought I wouldn’t make it back here,” he admitted. “Like, really about thought it. More than I ever have before.” He swallowed hard, jaw tightening for a second before he let out a humorless laugh. “I’ve never been afraid of failure. Not really. But this time… it was different.”

You could only imagine what that felt like—to have the thing you built your whole life around suddenly feel uncertain. To sit in the unknown and not be able to do anything but wait.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted softly, shifting so you were fully facing him. “I can’t even imagine what that must’ve been like for you.” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “But I do know I’m glad you’re here. That you made it through. And that I get to see you come out on the other side of it.”

Joe finally looked at you then, really looked at you, and for the first time that night, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease.

Before you could stop yourself, you sighed, "I think about failure all the time."

His brows furrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”

You glanced down, running your thumb over the rim of your glass. “Every single day at the bakery feels like a risk. Like one wrong move, one slow month, and it all comes crashing down. I try not to let it eat me alive, but it’s always there in the back of my mind.” You huffed out a quiet laugh. “Every day is either a risk or a victory. Some days, it’s both.”

Joe was quiet for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, almost to himself. “I get that.”

And you knew he did. Probably more than anyone else. Maybe that was the thing about him—he understood the weight of expectations, the pressure of something you love being both the best and hardest thing in your life.

The party carried on around you, but the two of you stayed there, in the quiet.

Joe wasn’t sure when it started, but sometime after the day he met you, he’d found himself wanting to be near you. To talk to you. To hear what you had to say.

Now, standing here, watching the way your eyes softened when you spoke, he realized something that both excited and terrified him.

He liked you. He really liked you.

And when you smiled at him—soft, understanding, like you really saw him—something in his chest tightened. He was absolutely fucked. And he knew it.

The day after his ill-timed epiphany, he had to figure out a way to see you, without making it completely obvious that he wanted to see you. So he did the one thing he could think of.

"THE Joe Burrow, gracing my humble bakery with his presence?" You place a hand over your heart in mock surprise. "Did hell actually freeze over? Or did you finally crack under the pressure of living a sugar-free life?"

The quarterback looks around and shrugs, "told my parents about this place and I wanted to grab them something before they head out. What should I get? What's good here?" He laughs and you glare at him.

"Everything," Quinn interrupts before disappearing in the kitchen to go over their fall menu, "you know this."

"Well…surprise me." Joe says, when it's just you again. "You're the professional here. And I trust your opinion."

You pick out a few things, putting them in a box and handing them over to him after he tapped his phone on the tap to pay. His fingers brushed against yours on the box, just for a second. Just long enough for his slightly calloused touch to settle into your skin. He didn’t pull away immediately. Neither did you. And then, just like that, the moment passed.

Joe thanked you, turning on his heel and walking out without another glance. He told himself not to think about it. About the way your hand felt against his. About how his skin still felt warm where you’d touched him.

He spent a considerably long time staring at his palm in the car before shaking his head, gripping the wheel, and driving himself home.

September

The month came with the promise of real football. Instead, it delivered losses. Three straight. By the end of the month, they were 1-4, and the frustration was suffocating.

Losing wasn’t new to Joe—football was a game of highs and lows. But this? This felt different. This felt like clawing for air and only inhaling more water. He’d been playing pretty well but that hadn’t translated to team success so needless to say, he was frustrated.

And when Joe was frustrated, when the weight of the season pressed down on him, he did what he always did: he shut people out.

His routine became even more rigid. Early mornings. Earlier nights. Film. Practice. Ice baths. Rehab. Study. Sleep. Repeat. No distractions. No detours. Just football.

No one took it personally. Not really. This was how he was wired. How he dealt with things. But that didn’t mean you didn’t notice the way his texts became shorter, the way he started disappearing from the group chat, the way even Ja’Marr and Tee could barely get more than a few words out of him after a loss.

You weren’t even sure if stopping by was the right move. Still, you showed up at his house the day after their first win, peanut butter oat cups in hand and a ton of nerves in your stomach. You just…wanted—no needed to see him. To lay eyes on him and know he was okay.

Joe opened the door a few moments later, looking like a guy carrying a losing record on his shoulders. His hoodie was slightly wrinkled, his hair, which had already grown out tremendously, was still damp from a shower, and there was something unshakably tired about the way he stood.

But when he saw you, his posture relaxed just a little.

“Hey,” he said, voice low.

“Hey.” You offered a small smile, holding out the box. “Figured you’d be on lockdown mode, so I won’t keep you. Just wanted to drop these off.”

His lips twitched like he was debating whether or not to smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” You shrugged. “But I did.”

Joe exhaled, running a hand over his face before glancing down at the box in his hand with a small smile. You were definitely going to consider this a win.

You let the silence settle between you for a moment before finally saying, “I know this is my first season actually paying attention to all this, but…I do know one thing.”

He looked at you then, a softer expression on his face as he shifted his weight from one foot to another.

“This season isn’t over,” you said firmly. “Not even close. I know you well enough to know you won't just give up without a fight.”

Joe swallowed hard, slowly nodding his head. He didn’t respond right away, but you didn’t need him to. Instead, you reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder—just for a second, just to ground him.

“I’ll let you do your thing,” you murmured. “I just needed to see you for myself.”

Something flickered in his expression, something almost vulnerable, but before you could place it, he sighed, releasing a significant amount of tension in his muscles.

“Come on,” he said, closing the door behind him. “I’ll walk you out.”

The morning air was cool as the two of you walked in quiet steps toward your car. When you reached the door, you turned to say goodbye, but before you could, Joe pulled you into a hug.

It caught you off guard at first, the warmth of him, the way he held onto you like he needed this moment more than he was willing to say.

And then you felt it.

The steady, rapid beat of his heart against your chest.

You weren’t sure what it meant. If he even realized how much he was giving away just by standing here, holding you like this. And as much as you wanted to say something—to push—you got in your car holding back a smile.

October

The guys were riding on a high after beating the Giants, allowing themselves to celebrate for a total of...four hours.

By the time Joe made his way to Ja’Marr’s place, the energy in the house was still buzzing. Most of the guests had gone home and it was just the core four cleaning up in the kitchen, while others made their way in and out of the house. For once, nobody was sulking over film breakdowns or injury reports. It was rare for Joe to show up to things like this—especially in-season—but a win after weeks of frustration made it easier to step outside his routine, even if only for a little while.

He kept to himself for the most part, sitting back and listening while his receivers talked over each other about plays, what went right and what they could’ve done better. But the conversation took a sharp turn when Quinn, comfortably stretched out on the couch with a glass of wine in hand, looked up and announced, “Oh, by the way, I got her on dating apps.”

Silence.

Then all hell broke loose.

“Wait, what?” Tee sat up so fast he almost knocked over his drink. “Are you serious?”

“Like, for real?” Ja’Marr leaned forward, grinning. “Ain’t no way.”

“Oh, I’m very serious,” Quinn smirked, pulling out her phone. “Took some convincing, but she finally caved. And now I get to be the supportive best friend who helps her swipe.”

Ja’Marr rubbed his hands together. “Hand it over. We gotta see this. Make sure ain’t no weirdos on there. Last thing I need is for you to end up on some true crime Netflix special.”

Joe stayed quiet, gripping the neck of his water bottle a little too tightly as you handed them Quinn your phone and she pulled up the profile. Tee and Ja’Marr crowded around, making dramatic noises every time they scrolled past a new guy.

“Absolutely not,” Tee muttered, swiping left.

“Oh, hell no.” Ja’Marr swiped even faster. “Why he posing like that?”

“This one’s kinda decent, though,” Quinn argued, nudging the phone toward them. “Look at him.”

Joe didn’t look. He didn’t join in on the commentary, didn’t make a joke, didn’t do anything except sit there, staring at the condensation rolling down his water bottle, wondering why there was a weird feeling sitting heavy in his chest.

It wasn’t like he had a right to feel any type of way about this. And he knew what it meant.

But that didn’t stop him from feeling it anyway no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

Between the temperature fluctuations and the sudden boom in business, your head was spinning. The bakery had never been more popular. What had started as a hidden gem over the summer had officially become one of Cincinnati’s go-to spots. Lines stretched out the door on weekends, with customers raving about the new fall menu: cinnamon swirl snickerdoodle blondies, apple cider donuts, maple pecan scones. You barely had time to catch your breath between managing the chaos and perfecting each batch, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Meanwhile, the Bengals’ season remained a rollercoaster. A solid win against the Browns gave everyone a glimmer of hope, but that optimism came crashing down when the Eagles steamrolled them by twenty. After that game, no one heard from Joe. His silent rage wasn’t unusual after a loss, but it was nevertheless, felt from miles away.

The next week, they bounced back in a big way, blowing out the Raiders at home. The scoreboard said it was a dominant win, but Joe was still visibly pissed, seen on the sidelines venting to Zac Taylor about missed offensive opportunities and a shit ton of penalties that should've been avoided. The moment went viral—clips of his animated rant flooded social media, with analysts debating whether his frustration was a sign of his competitive fire or a deeper issue brewing in Cincinnati.

That night, everyone met at Jeff Ruby’s for dinner, but Joe didn’t show. To the surprise of absolutely...nobody.

Toward the end of the night, the restaurant manager approached your table with a takeout bag in hand. “This is Joe’s order,” he explained. “He called it in, but something came up. He asked me to give it to you, is that okay?"

You hesitated for a second before nodding. “Yeah, I got it.”

It wasn’t long before you were standing outside his house, takeout bag in hand, knocking on his door. When he opened it, he looked exhausted. Not physically—no visible bruises or signs of injury—but mentally. His eyes were dull, his usual composed demeanor carrying an edge of frustration.

You gave him the bag. “Figured you should still eat.”

Joe took it with a small nod. “Thanks.”

For a second, you considered just leaving, letting him sit with whatever was weighing on him. But instead, you crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe. “You wanna talk about it?”

He let out a slow breath, rubbing his jaw before stepping back to let you in. You followed him to the kitchen, watching as he set the bag down on the counter but didn’t open it.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, finally breaking the silence. “I just—” He sighed. “I’m playing well, but I don’t know if we as a collective have what it takes to close out games when it actually matters. We can beat shit teams, but the moment we go up against a real contender, it’s like everything falls apart. And I hate feeling like we’re right there but just not good enough.”

You nodded, understanding the weight of what he was saying. Joe wasn’t the type to be satisfied with mediocrity. He needed to win, and not just in ways that looked good on paper. At this point, to get back on track they needed to look dominant— unstoppable. Not like kids throwing together a project at the last minute because they forgot the due date.

“I get it,” you said softly. “This is your job, your career. You don’t half-ass anything, and you don’t want to settle for middle of the pack.”

Joe’s lips pressed together, his gaze flickering to yours. “Exactly.”

He ran a hand through his hair before exhaling sharply. “I’m sorry for missing dinner. Just…had a lot on my mind.”

You tilted your head, a flash of curiosity taking over. “Anything besides football?”

For a second, he was quiet, debating whether or not to answer. You could see the internal battle written all over his face, his jaw tensing and flexing as he pondered the risks of honesty.

Then, he muttered, “Fuck it.”

Your brows lifted, but before you could ask, he looked at you—really looked at you—and said, “I’ve been...thinking about you.” His voice was low, steady, but you could hear the weight behind it. “More than I want to. More than I should.”

The words knocked the air from your lungs.

You should’ve said something, but for once, you had no idea what to say. Instead, you took a step forward. Joe’s eyes tracked your movement, and when you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance. His hand brushed against your waist, his gaze flickering to your lips, leaning in ever so slightly—

“Yo, have you seen my phone charger?”

Ja’Marr’s voice shattered the moment like glass.

Joe immediately stepped back, cursing again under his breath as Ja’Marr walked into the kitchen, completely oblivious to what he had just interrupted.

Your entire face was on fire and you were sure your heart was seconds away from bursting out of your chest.

Joe looked like he wanted to murder his best friend.

November

Neither of you brought up what almost happened. Maybe because neither of you were sure it should have happened. Or maybe, deep down, you were both afraid of what it would mean if you admitted that it did.

So, instead, things carried on like normal—except they weren’t normal at all.

Joe still came by the bakery, though now he had a habit of showing up under the guise of casual excuses. Like when he walked in one morning, a familiar water bottle in hand, and placed it on the counter in front of you.

“You left this at my house,” he said, completely straight-faced. “Wanted to make sure you’re staying hydrated.”

You blinked at him, then down at the bottle—one of many you’d undoubtedly left behind at places far more inconvenient. “You drove all the way here for…this?”

Joe shrugged. “Seemed important.”

Quinn made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. You didn’t have to turn to know she was giving Joe a look—one that said she saw right through him.

Still, nothing was said.

The two of you danced around the elephant in the room for 17 days. Then came the bye week, and as fate would have it, or your own personal hell, you ended up at Joe’s house, standing side by side in his kitchen as you baked a pumpkin pie together. The whole thing came randomly, he mentioned in passing that it was his favorite and he was spending his entire bye week on the couch so naturally you came up with a solution. Nobody else was free so it just ended up being you and him. Of course.

The kitchen smelled of cinnamon, nutmeg, and warm sugar, the scent pulling you into your natural element. This was your Paycor Stadium, your stage. R&B played in the background, filling the comfortable silence as Joe rolled out the pie dough with slow, concentrated movements. The counter was dusted with flour, the remnants of your work scattered across the surface.

"You’re pressing too hard," you murmured, stepping in behind him. You placed your hands gently over his, guiding his movements. "You want it even, but not overworked."

Joe huffed out a breath, the warmth of his chuckle brushing against your cheek. "So what you’re saying is, I’d be terrible on a baking show?"

You grinned, your fingers brushing against his as you both worked the dough. "I’m saying, there's some room for improvement for sure."

Joe turned his head slightly, just enough for his blue eyes to catch yours, his expression hard to read but there was a certain glimmer in his gaze. You didn’t move away. Neither did he. This was how it had been for months now—a quiet understanding, an unspoken closeness that had slowly built between you. It was in the way he showed up to your bakery with your favorite coffee, the way you memorized his weekly schedule, the way he looked for you after every home game, his gaze scanning the crowd in the player guest section postgame until he found you.

The pie crust was ready now, but neither of you were ready to move to finish it.

Joe’s hands lingered under yours, his thumbs lightly grazing your knuckles. "I like this," he admitted after a moment, his voice low. "Us. Doing this."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Me too."

It wasn’t just about the pie, and you both knew it.

You helped him move the dough into the pan, your fingers brushing again, sending little shivers up your spine. The pumpkin filling sat ready in a glass bowl, waiting to be poured, but Joe seemed far more interested in you. His eyes traced over your features, cataloging every detail as if he was afraid he’d forget them.

"What?" you asked, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

Joe shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"About?"

He exhaled slowly, rolling his lips together as if debating what to say. Then, instead of answering, he reached out to touch you, his fingers trailing down to your jawline, resting there a smidge too long. His movements were gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was giving you the chance to pull away.

You didn’t. You couldn't.

The space between you evaporated, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so delicate, so achingly tender, that it stole the breath from your lungs. It was slow, unhurried, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of you against him. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you let yourself sink into him, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie. The warmth of his body, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with vanilla extract—it was intoxicating.

Joe deepened the kiss, a quiet desperation laced within it, months of lingering glances and fleeting touches culminating in this moment. You felt his hesitation fade, replaced by something raw and real, something neither of you could ignore any longer.

But then he pulled away.

And you saw it—regret, creeping into his expression before he even said the words.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. “This was a mistake.”

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Are you serious?”

Joe exhaled, looking anywhere but at you. He was still standing somewhat close but his hands weren’t on you anymore, making the temperature in the room instantly feel like it had dropped 20 degrees. Even the expression on his face was a little colder than before. “I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Your heart was pounding, anger curling hot in your chest. It was the only thing fueling you and keeping you warm. “I think it's a little too late for that. Joe, things have already changed. These past few weeks—hell, these past few months—we’ve been dancing around this. We’re not in fucking high school. Just tell me the truth.”

You took a step closer, forcing him to face you. To look at you. “Do you honestly have no feelings for me?”

Silence.

Then, finally—too quiet— “I don’t.”

You flinched like he’d slapped you.

Joe must have seen it because he let out a heavy breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m just—overwhelmed. The team is losing, and I’m playing the best football of my life, and I just—I can’t add another thing to my plate right now.”

You studied him for a long moment, jaw tight, hands clenched at your sides. Then, finally, you nodded.

You stared at him, waiting for him to take it back, to say something—but he didn’t. He just stood there, shoulders tense, eyes locked on the floor like he was hoping if he didn’t look at you, this would all just go away.

“You’re such a coward.”

Joe’s head snapped up, but you were already shaking your head, anger and frustration crashing into you all at once.

“You are so stuck in your own head,” you continued, voice sharp, unrelenting. “You keep everyone at arm’s length so you don’t get hurt. So you don’t have to admit that you actually feel things like a normal human being. You’re not some heartless football machine, Joe. You don’t have to live, breathe, and die this sport 24/7 to be fulfilled.”

You took a step forward, forcing him to face you, forcing him to hear you. “And you can stand there and act like this isn’t real, like there’s nothing between us, but I know there is. And you do too. Maybe it’s new, maybe it’s always been there, but I’m not stupid. At least I didn’t think I was.”

Joe’s jaw tightened, but he still said nothing.

And that? That pissed you off even more.

You scoffed, blinking away the sting in your eyes as you turned on your heel, grabbing your things off the counter. “If you want to pretend none of this is real, then fine. I won’t fight you on it.”

Joe didn’t move. He didn’t stop you.

You lingered for half a second, hoping—praying—that he’d snap out of it. That he’d reach for you, say your name, give you anything.

But all he did was stand there, motionless, watching you go.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head one last time before you reached for the door.

“Don’t burn my pie,” you muttered, then stepped outside, slamming the door shut behind you.

December

Joe told himself, over and over, that he’d made the right decision.

That pulling away had been necessary. That it was better this way.

But as the weeks passed, the reality of it settled in like a dull, persistent ache in his chest. The group dynamic wasn’t the same anymore. Quinn was firmly on your side, and Tee and Ja’Marr were caught in the middle, trying their best to act like everything was normal when it clearly wasn’t.

You only hung out with them if Joe wasn’t going to be there, and eventually, he stopped showing up altogether. Left the group chat, too, because what was the point?

So, yeah. He told himself this was what he wanted. That it was for the best.

Then one day, the night before his birthday while the Bengals were in Dallas, his house was broken into.

It was everywhere. The footage of the smashed window. The grainy security cam stills of showing the inside of his house. The headlines dissecting every detail—what was stolen, how much damage was done.

For a second—just a fleeting, stupid second—he thought maybe you’d reach out.

But you didn’t.

And why would you? It wasn’t your place anymore.

You were moving on. Meeting new people.

Like Cory.

Sweet, mature, honest-about-his-feelings Cory.

More than Joe could say for himself.

Joe wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.

At all, really.

But when he overheard Tee and Ja’Marr talking about you, about how you’d been going on several dates with some guy named Cory, he couldn’t help but listen.

“Seems like a good dude,” Tee said, scrolling through his phone. “Takes her out, treats her right.”

“She actually looks happy, too,” Ja’Marr added. “Not whatever the fuck that was with Joe.”

Joe rolled his eyes, slamming his locker shut. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Ja’Marr turned to him, unimpressed. “It means you fumbled, bro.”

Tee nodded. “Big time.”

Joe exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He wasn’t in the mood for this. But they weren’t letting it go, so he told them. Everything. The kiss, the fight, the way he let you walk away because he was too caught up in his own head to admit how he really felt.

By the time he finished, Tee and Ja’Marr were looking at him like he was the dumbest man alive.

“You fumbled twice,” Tee corrected.

“She’s moving on,” Ja’Marr added. “And from the sound of it, dude’s actually putting in effort. You had your chance.”

Joe didn’t respond, just sat there, feeling more irritated by the second. He told himself he didn’t care.

The restaurant was dimly lit, the soft hum of jazz playing in the background as you swirled the last bit of your wine in the glass. Across from you, Cory was smiling, eyes warm and excited in a way that made you feel a little guilty. He was sweet, thoughtful, and easy to be around. The kind of man that you bring home to your parents and settle down with. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He was easy. There was no tension, no unsaid words, no history thick enough to make the world stand completely still for a minute.

You were on your fifth date now, and even though you liked him, you knew deep down you weren’t feeling it the way you were supposed to.

“I, uh—I actually got something for you,” Cory said, reaching into his jacket pocket. “Well, it’s more of a surprise, really.”

You set your glass down, watching as he pulled out a sleek envelope and slid it across the table toward you. “Go on, open it.”

You hesitated before peeling it open, your heart practically stopping when you saw what was inside. Two tickets to the game—Bengals vs. Broncos. A must-win. And VIP passes for the postgame meet-and-greet.

You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you.

“I wasn't snooping in your house or anything but I did see a Bengals cup in your cabinet the other day. But you never really said anything about being a fan?” Cory said, clearly proud of himself. “i don't know, I figured you might like it. And hey, you can finally meet some of the players.”

Your stomach twisted painfully. You swallowed down the instinct to refuse, to make up an excuse, to say absolutely the fuck not. But what reason did you have? To Cory, there was nothing complicated about this—just a thoughtful gift for someone he was getting to know.

You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as fake as it felt. “Wow, Cory. This is...really sweet of you.”

“So, you’ll come?” he asked, his grin widening.

You nodded, the weight of your own decision pressing against your chest. “Yeah,” you said, voice quieter than you meant it to be. “I’ll go.”

And just like that, you sealed your fate.

Admittedly, it was their best game of the season. A win in OT, a Tee touchdown to keep their playoff hopes alive, and all the players riding on a high of a multiple game win streak. A month ago, you would've been celebrating right along with them. But tonight you really needed to get through this meet and greet without throwing up. And without blowing your cover. If nothing else, this was Cory's opportunity to have a once in a lifetime experience and the last thing you wanted to do is ruin that.

And then you saw him.

And Joe saw you with...him.

He saw how the guy next to you couldn’t wait to shake his hand—Joe thought it was a joke. Thought maybe this was some kind of sick cosmic punishment for all the terrible decisions he’d made in the last few months.

You looked good, unfairly good in your jacket and Bengals beanie, one that Tee had given you and Joe felt his irritation morph into something else entirely.

You weren’t even looking at him.

Cory, meanwhile, was beaming. “Man, it’s so cool to meet you. You played great tonight.”

Joe barely managed a nod, jaw tight.

Cory didn’t seem to notice the tension thickening the air, but you did.

And when your eyes finally met Joe’s, there was something there—something that made his pulse jump—before you quickly looked away.

Yeah. Joe was pissed.

The moment Cory got distracted meeting some of the other players, shaking hands and taking pictures, Joe saw his chance. He stepped toward you, lowering his voice.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You scoffed, folding your arms over your chest. “Attending a football game, in the city I live in. Apparently that's a crime now.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then be more specific," you bite out.

Joe exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. “Him? This?” He gestured vaguely in Cory’s direction. “Really?”

Your expression hardened. “Yes, really. He’s kind, honest, actually says what he feels instead of hiding behind excuses and—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “You know what? No. I don’t owe you an explanation. I don't owe you shit.”

Joe clenched his jaw. “So that’s it? You’re just—what? Moving on like none of it mattered?”

“Oh, now you want to talk about it?” You whisper yell. “You didn't have anything for me when I asked you, remember? All you could do was look at the floor like a freaking idiot. It was crickets and now you have the nerve to ask me what this is? You don’t get to do this, Joe. You don’t get to push me away, call me a mistake, then act like you suddenly care when you see me with someone else.”

He stepped closer, voice low and tense. “You know damn well I care.”

You swallowed, blinking up at him, and for a second—just a second—Joe thought you might let your guard down. That you might admit there was still something there.

But then you shook your head. “If you actually cared, we wouldn’t be having this conversation here. We actually wouldn't be having this conversation at all. I would've been here, with you. Not looking for pieces of you in another guy, a perfectly nice guy who just wanted to meet the freaking Bengals today. So if you don't mind, I'm gonna go meet Tee Higgins and Ja’Marr Chase...for the first time.”

Joe didn’t know what to say to that.

So you left him standing there, walking back toward Cory with a smile, pulling him in for a hug like Joe wasn’t just barely holding himself together.

January

Exactly seven days later, while Cory was over watching the game with you, Joe took a hit and stayed down. This time you were hanging on by a thread, on the inside. On the outside, you shoved some popcorn in your mouth and sipped on ginger ale, hoping the bubbles would bring your heart back to its rightful place instead of where it currently resided...in your stomach. You didn't know if he had a concussion but he definitely looked out of it, missing throws he usually made and the Bengals escaped Pittsburg by the skin of their teeth, securing a two point win on the road, their destiny up to chance. Ja'Marr called you in the locker room after the game to tell you he needed you at the watch party for good luck in praying on the Dolphins and the Broncos downfall. You told him you'd think about it, part of you didn't mind being in the same room as Joe, especially after you caved and watched his postgame press conference to make sure he wasn't lying about being concussed. Maybe the two of you could be cordial with each other and leave the past behind.

You woke up on the couch with NFL Network still on tv. Something about it felt embarrassing, because it felt right. Months ago you were watching an introduction to football PowerPoint and now you'd regularly catch yourself having football withdrawals. Just as you were ready to call it a night, turning off the tv and mentally preparing yourself to head to your room, you heard a knock at the door. Who could possibly be coming over at 2 in the morning?

You stood frozen in the doorway, gripping the edge of the door like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Your stomach dropped—hard and fast—like missing a step in the dark. Joe was standing there, still in the clothes you had seen him wearing during in his postgame press conference. His hair was a mess, the shadows under his eyes deeper than usual. He looked exhausted. But that wasn’t what made your breath hitch. It was him. Here. Now. After all this time.

“Joe.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “What are you doing?”

He exhaled heavily, a far away look in his eyes. “I don’t know.”

You crossed your arms, trying to steel yourself, ignoring the way your pulse was racing. “You don’t know? What do you mean you don't know? You just drove around after you landed and magically ended up here?”

“I don't know, I just—I couldn’t go home. Not without seeing you.” He swallowed hard, eyes flickering over your face like he was searching for something, anything that might give him an answer. “I know I shouldn’t be here, but when I got on the plane, all I could think about was you.”

Your heart clenched painfully. Damn him.

“You scared the hell out of me tonight,” you admitted before you could stop yourself. “Watching you go down like that—” You shook your head, gripping the fabric of your hoodie. “I hated it.”

His eyes softened, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. “I know. Can we just—can I come in?”

You stared at each other, the weight of everything unsaid pressing in around you.

“Joe.” You sighed, your resolve crumbling at the sight of him standing there like that, like he wasn’t sure you’d let him in.

“Please,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Just for a minute.”

And against your better judgment, you stepped aside.

Joe ran a hand over his face and took a shaky breath. “I don’t even know what the fuck I was thinking on that play, the pocket collapsed so fast I didn't even have time to throw the ball away. And when I hit the ground, all I could think about was you.” He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Not football, not the game, not the playoffs. You. And how I’d fucked everything up so badly that you wouldn’t even reach out. That I wouldn’t get a chance to apologize.”

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to keep your expression unreadable.

“I’m so, so sorry. I was a coward,” Joe admitted, his voice breaking. “I am a coward. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be in control—of my game, my career, my emotions. It's kind of my thing. And you…” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You fuck all of that up for me. The way I feel about you scares the living shit out of me.”

You blinked, stunned into silence.

“I’m not some heartless football robot,” he continued, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m a man who’s been terrified to feel anything real because it means I can’t control it. And when I’m with you, it’s real. It’s been real for months, and you were right. About everything. I was too much of a fucking idiot to admit it.”

Your heart was pounding, your breath shallow. You wanted to believe him—God, you did—but you couldn’t just let him walk back into your life like he hadn’t wrecked you before.

“I need you to give me a chance to fix this,” Joe pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Please.”

You swallowed hard. “Joe…”

“I swear to you,” he interrupted, stepping closer, his hands almost reaching for you before he forced himself to stop. “I promise, I will prove to you that I’m not that coward anymore. Just… just say you’ll let me try.”

You studied him carefully, searching for any sign of doubt, any hesitation. But there was none. Only raw, unfiltered desperation and a kind of vulnerability you had never seen from him before.

Your walls were still up, but something inside you cracked. Just a little.

“You have to earn me this time,” you whispered.

Joe nodded instantly. “I will.”

After a hard conversation with Cory in the morning, you decided to attend the watch party the next day to test the waters. And to see your friends all in one place again. The atmosphere in Joe's house had shifted from tense to comfortable, a soft kind of warmth that had been missing for a while. The room was still, save for the quiet hum of the television, which was showing the Broncos slowly dismantling the Chiefs, much to the frustration of everyone else in the room. Joe had been quiet for the most part, lost in his thoughts, but you could tell he had already come to terms with the inevitable.

You weren’t sure if you should be relieved or sad about the Bengals missing the playoffs, but you did know one thing: it didn’t feel like the end for you and Joe. Not anymore.

The room had cleared out, the others heading to their respective homes after the game, leaving you and Joe alone. The snow outside had started to fall heavier now, creating a peaceful stillness that you couldn’t help but love. Joe seemed to notice the shift in the air as well, his eyes softening as he glanced over at you.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His concern was still there like that first night he found you outside the housewarming party, that need to take care of you even now.

You nodded, even though there was a part of you that was more uncertain than you wanted to admit. “Yeah. Just…just thinking.”

He leaned back against the couch, eyes flicking to the window as the snowflakes danced in the cold air. “You want me to drive you home? It’s getting pretty bad out there. Or, you could stay? Only if you want to."

You hesitated for a second, a small part of you wanting to avoid the drive, to stay with him just a little longer. Maybe it was the way he looked at you—like he was sure this time. Like there was no more running. “I think…I think I want to stay,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze.

Joe didn’t need any more convincing. He pulled you in close to him on the couch, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he let out a slow sigh. “I’m really gonna miss football," he murmured. “But I’ve got a lot of work to do with you, so I guess I’ve got some time now. I messed up before. I’m not messing this up again.”

You smiled, the weight of the past few weeks lifting off your shoulders just by being close to him. “I can’t wait to put you to work, 6am at the bakery tomorrow morning. And the next few mornings. For a while.” you teased, your voice barely audible.

Joe’s eyes darkened for a moment, a quiet promise in his gaze. He cupped your face gently, leaning in with a tenderness that took you by surprise. When his lips met yours, it was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment. A kiss full of unspoken apologies, solidifying what was to come, and the quiet declaration that he was willing to do whatever it took to make things right between the two of you. Even if some of that ended up with him getting covered in flour for the foreseeable future.

You didn’t pull away. In fact, you melted into the kiss, your heart swelling in your chest as his hands slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place like you were exactly where you belonged.

He pressed one more slow kiss to your lips before his eyes flicked to yours, searching. “So… does this mean our friendship over?” His voice was low, careful, but there was something else there—hope, maybe.

You didn’t even have to think about it. You let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking your head and running your fingers through his hair. “Absolutely. It’s dead and gone.”

Joe exhaled a soft chuckle, shaking his head before reaching for you, fingers curling gently around your wrist. “Good,” he murmured, tugging you closer. “Because I really didn’t want to be your friend anyway. Got much bigger plans in mind.”

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Bonus Drabble 7

Summary: You're five days past your due date so Jungkook wants to...help remedy that situation. Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 1.4k Warning: Pregnancy and smut hehe a/n: barely edited per usual Requested by: an anon 💜 Start from the beginning

"What day are we on?" I sigh, laying down on our bed, moping because I'm so over being pregnant right now. 

"285" Jungkook calls out from the bathroom, having finished up his morning routine with me taking longer and longer to get up since being pregnant past your due date sucks the life out of you in more ways than one. 

"Are you kidding me? Just come out already" I huff, scolding the baby for something that is beyond their control. "They're just too warm and snuggly in there" he chuckles, leaning against the doorway, admiring me and my external struggle. 

"Yeah well they've been kicking me in the ribs for weeks, pretty sure they're starting to run out of room in there" I say, trying to sit up but Jungkook rushes to my aide and encourages me to just take it easy.

"I'm sure you'll be going into labor any day now plus the doctor said that if you're a week over your due date that they'll reconsider inducing you" he reminds me but I'm beyond reasoning with at this point. 

"But that's three more days" I whine, him having graciously put up with my complaining all throughout this pregnancy. It's my first so things should be better the next time around since I'll know what to expect but I can tell he doesn't mind.

He kneels next to the bed and runs his fingers through my hair, trying to soothe me and take my mind off of the discomfort but when I see the corner of his lips upturn I know he's up to something. 

"What?" I ask, not wanting to be in the dark about whatever seems to be amusing him at the moment. "Nothing" he chuckles, getting back up and going to the bathroom. "What do you mean nothing? If you're smiling it's gotta be something" I argue back, my brows furrowing further. 

"Can't a man smile at his wife?" he says coming back with a towel draped over his arm. "Well yes, but that wasn't just a regular smile" I contradict but I'm starting to realize what's on his mind. 

"What's the towel for?" I ask, cocking a brow at him since his intentions are slowly becoming clear but waiting for him to admit it.

"You know how I've been reading some books about pregnancy? You know, 'What to expect when you're expecting' and all that?" he asks, walking back over to me. 

"Yes" I say, dragging out the word a little longer, than necessary. "And you know how I'm always asking the doctor questions that make you squirm" he says, laying down and spooning me, him fully admitting to what's on his mind now. 

"I don't know why you have to ask her that question over and over again" I huff but the edge is taken off since he's started trailing kisses along my neck and shoulder, having slept naked since it's the only way I feel comfortable with all of these heat flashes.

"Well I've been reading up on things that could help induce labor too since you've been whining about it" he says biting down on my shoulder. "Hey!" I protest but we both know it would be a blatant lie to say otherwise. 

"So I was thinking we could try some of them out...well one of them out" he says, caressing my pregnant stomach, knowing it helps me relax, reminding me that he's thankful I've gone through all of this for our family. 

"And that would be?" I hum, him gradually making me more pliant, his hands traveling lower and lower. "How many time do you think you can cum Bunny?" he asks, his fingers now parting my lower lips and circling my clit, the stimulation very welcome.

"That's just a myth" I say, my eyes fluttering shut but not giving any protests in continuing further with him now widening my legs and draping one over his, making room for him in between them.

"Does that mean you don't wanna try?" he teases his hands now trailing up to pinch one of my nipples. The sensitive bud feeling more and more tender as the days pass by making me mewl. 

"I guess I wouldn't mind" I agree, never giving up a chance to be pleasured by him. 

"Want my fingers Bunny?" he temps, circling around my entrance making me shake my head.

"No, just want you" I shudder when he still ends up slipping a finger in. 

"Gotta stretch you out first though, just be a good girl and take them for a little. Yeah?" he mumbles into my ear, grinding into me from behind, working himself up in the process. I whine but take them, knowing I'm too tight for him to even try. 

"Relax for me, wanna fill you up" he says, as if that would help, making me clench around his fingers when he slips another in. 

"You're not listening love" he taunts, circling around my clit and curling his fingers inside me, working faster since I'm clearly not the only one getting impatient. 

After another minute or two of him torturing me and taunting he pulls his fingers out and has me lift my hips so he can place the towel under me. "You know...just in case" he teases and kisses my shoulder before going back to what we had started. 

He runs his tip through my folds, never giving up on his continued torture, paired with his shuddering breaths and groans of how good I'm being for him, his words alone close to driving me over the edge. 

"Please" I whine and push my hips back against his and so he decides to relent, knowing that I've had enough. He grabs my thigh and angles his hips just right and pushes in, he grunts as I clench around his tip, begging him to go deeper but he knows he has to be careful. 

No matter how much he wants to just ram it inside of me he knows mine and the baby's safety comes first. 

He pushes in inch by inch, letting me adjust because even though he tried to help, it's always hard for me to really do it until he's inside of me. 

He kisses my neck and whispers sweet nothings as I breathe through it. He slowly rolls his hips into mine, drawing needy whimpers from me and groans from him, his iron grip on my hip sure to leave bruises in their wake. 

I try to say his name but it just comes out in broken up syllables and he rests his head against my shoulder. "I know Bunny, I know" he mutters, feeling that I'm close and knowing that he's not far off, his hips grinding into me at a stuttering pace, both of us close to our limit. 

He reaches his hand around to toy with my clit, making me shudder and soon that knot is snapping and my release washes over me. My words come out in a string of curses and unintelligible moans, fragments of his name laced throughout, him releasing inside of me moments later, his desperate sounds in my ear making it that much more pleasurable.

We rest there for a while, both of our chests rising and falling in sync, soon slowing back down with him now peppering kisses along any inch of skin he can reach while he's still nestled up inside of me. 

"You okay?" he asks since I've been pretty quiet and I hum. "Yeah, just thinking" I say and he hums back, not prodding since he knows I'll say it eventually and I do moments later, needing to process this with him. 

"Do you think I'll be a good mother?" I whisper and he sits up immediately looking down at me with a furrowed brow. 

"Is that even a question? Of course you're gonna be a good mother! You'll be a great mother! In fact you already are! You've been so careful and have been taking such good care of yourself and you've been nesting like crazy. They have everything they could possible need and more and your love alone is going to be more than enough for them. Our baby is so lucky to have you as their mother. Just like I am so lucky to have you as my wife" he says and picks up my left hand, kissing my wedding ring.

I give him a sad smile and nod, "Thank you honey, I needed that". He smiles and nods, spooning me again and nuzzling into my neck. 

"Jungkook?" I say and he hums. "Are you hard again?" I giggle, his tip having still stayed inside, making it physically obvious. 

"Yes" he answers guiltily after a moment of silence. "Your water didn't break so...did you wanna try again?" he asks and pushes it in further. 

"You're insatiable" I say but make room for him anyways. 

"Love you too" he chuckles and kisses my cheek before going at it again...and again...and again. 

Click here to find out what happens the next day 🤭

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[keeryhours]

please be gentle (when you’re tearing me apart)

Eddie Munson x female! reader, Steve Harrington x reader

Main Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Summary:

You’re in love with Eddie, Eddie’s in love with someone else. Somehow, he accidentally ends up in a relationship with you anyway.

Warnings:

(18+), SERIOUS angst, there is only pain here, hurt/no comfort or hurt/a little comfort, cheating, pregnancy, pregnancy complications, birth/c section, Eddie is really out of character and is a total dick, Chrissy is out of character and she also sucks (sorry guys), smut, fingering, protected p in v, virgin!eddie, virgin!reader, really awkward first time!

Word Count: 14.6k

A/N:

WOW okay this was totally unexpected to write. The length especially. This is just something depressing for the anti-Valentine’s Day mood. I’ve been nervous to post so I hope you enjoy! Big giant thanks to @punkrockmlchael (who made my beautiful banner again and also beta read), @the-witty-pen-name , @fizzing-imagines, @losingmygrasponreality, @writhingg , and @lesservillain for bouncing ideas and beta reading! I couldn’t have written this without you. Also ignore that there’s only dividers for half the fic, apparently you can only add 10 images to a post 🙃

dividers by @/strangergraphics

Best friends.

That’s what you and Eddie were, and always had been. Growing up as neighbors in Forest Hills, you met when you were 8 and Eddie was 10, after he moved in with his uncle.

To be honest with yourself, you had had a crush on Eddie Munson since the first time you laid eyes on him. A silly childhood crush at first, he was so cute with his curls, short at the time, and it made your heart beat fast whenever you walked to the store together for snacks and he held your hand.

He would play you all kinds of music you’d never heard before, heavy stuff that was totally new to you. You weren’t sure about it at first, but you grew to love it. When he got into D&D, he would talk your ear off about his campaign plans for hours. You didn’t mind. You liked listening to him talk. When he started Hellfire, you were the first member to join. You didn’t know how to play an instrument, but you were Corroded Coffin’s biggest fan.

Eddie was everything to you. He was the first person you went to with any news, the only one you were excited to tell anything and everything to. He took you to see every new slasher movie, bought you your first dice set. He was the first thing you thought about in the morning and the last you thought of at night. At some point, it turned into more than a crush.

At some point, you fell in love.

Eddie was oblivious. He never dated in high school, but that didn’t seem to bother him. You didn’t, either, but it was mostly because you were so preoccupied with loving Eddie. You tried dropping hints, but he never seemed to figure it out. You were too scared to just get it over with and tell him outright.

So, you remained best friends. Just friends.

—

“Are you going to prom this year?” Wayne asked, sipping his beer as he sat relaxed in his recliner. Eddie nursed his own beer, feet up on the coffee table.

“Nah,” Eddie said. “You know that’s…not my thing.”

“You should go at least once,” Wayne said. “Might regret it.”

“I doubt it.”

“I had a great time at my senior prom,” Wayne reminisced, smiling at the memory. “You should give it a shot, Ed. Why don’t you take your little friend from next door?”

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t feel that way about her.”

“You can go as friends,” he pointed out. “I’m sure she’d like that. Girl adores you.”

“I’m pretty sure she has a crush on me,” Eddie winced, sipping his beer. “I don’t want to give her the wrong idea.”

“You don’t have to marry her, Ed. Just show her a good time. You two have been so close for so long, I’m sure she would understand.”

Eddie thought about it. He didn’t want to go to prom, like at all, but he wanted to make his uncle happy. And if he had to go with someone, it might as well be you, his only female friend, right?

So, he approached you at your locker the next day at school. “Hey.”

You turned to him, your face immediately lighting up with a huge smile. “Hey, Eds.”

“I, uh,” Eddie looked around awkwardly. “I just wanted to ask if you’d want to go to…prom with me?”

Your eyes went wide, but inside your heart was thundering out of your chest. Had Eddie really just asked you out? “Prom? Really? I thought you hated prom?”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s my last senior year. Hopefully, at least. I figured I might as well give it a shot. We can pre game and sneak in some alcohol. And if it’s lame, we can ditch.”

You couldn’t wipe the huge smile off your face. You were almost a little concerned at how hard your heart was beating in that moment, like it would give out. “I’d love to go with you.”

Eddie gave you a soft smile. “Cool. I’ll pick you up at 6 that night.”

You watched as Eddie left, heading in the direction of his next class of the day. You waited until he was out of sight before you went sprinting in the direction of Robin’s locker.

You found her there, taking her books out. She startled when you ran up on her, placing her hand over her chest. “Jesus. What’s up with you?”

“Eddie just asked me to prom,” you blurted out. Robin’s jaw dropped open.

“No way!” She exclaimed, her look of shock turning to one of pure excitement. “This is huge. I always knew he was into you.”

You blushed. “I don’t know. I had given up hope of him liking me back. This was so out of the blue. I didn’t even think he wanted to go to prom at all.”

“Maybe he’s just better at hiding his feelings,” Robin offered. “Either way, we’re going dress shopping. Prom is only two weeks away!”

That weekend, Robin convinced her mom to drive the two of you to Indianapolis to go shopping in the big city. You were both giddy with excitement - Robin wasn’t much of a dress girl, and she didn’t have a date. The only person she wanted to take, she couldn’t ask. You were pretty sure Vickie was into girls and Robin in particular, but Robin was still too scared to make the move. You didn’t blame her. It wasn’t like typical rejection if things went wrong. So, instead, Robin was going with a group of girls from the marching band as friends.

Her mom took you to the huge mall, which was much more impressive than Starcourt. It was huge, with a ton of different stores. You made a stop at Camelot Music first, where Robin got a new Blondie tape and you grabbed the new The Smiths record and a Metallica Master of Puppets tape for Eddie, since his had recently broken.

Next was the formal wear store. You were both immediately overwhelmed when you walked in, the racks and racks of fancy dresses as far as the eye could see. All different colors, lengths, and styles. It was…a lot.

“Well…I guess let’s get started,” Robin said, her voice unsure.

You probably tried on 50 dresses each. You and Robin giggled as you tried on the dresses her mom picked for you, big floofy pink and blue monstrosities.

“You look like a marshmallow. Like a big pink marshmallow,” Robin had commented.

“Yeah?” You laughed, gesturing towards her powder blue gown. “Well, you look like a wedding cake.”

An hour and a half into dress shopping, you were both getting tired and totally over it. You had the last gown you’d picked out in your hand, and you told yourself if you hated this one, too, you’d just say fuck it and go to prom in your ripped jeans.

You pulled the dress over your head, smoothing it down your body. When you turned and looked into the mirror, you gasped. You actually looked…beautiful.

The dark purple dress hugged your curves, pushing your breasts up and making them look much sexier (and perkier) than they really were. The skirt fell above your knees, showing off your legs. You did a little twirl, the skirt swishing around your thighs. You loved it, it was by far the best one you’d tried on.

“Are you alive in there?” Robin called from outside the dressing room, and you smiled to yourself.

“I think we have a winner,” you called back.

“Ooh!” Robin said just as you moved the curtain and walked out. You saw Robin standing in a dark blue dress that looked beautiful on her, the skirt long but flattering.

“Oh my god,” she said. “You look stunning! Eddie is going to lose his mind.”

You blushed at the mention of Eddie. “You do too!” And she did. Finally, you had both found something.

After you left the dress shop with your bags in hand, you were both feeling much happier. You made a stop at Afterthoughts, where you found some earrings and a necklace to match your dress.

You couldn’t believe you were going to prom, and with Eddie. It was a dream come true.

You couldn’t wait.

—

Prom night, you were shaking as you got ready. The dress was just as beautiful as you remembered. The jewelry you had picked out matched your dress even better than you’d hoped.

Eddie picked you up right on time. He smiled at you awkwardly when he picked you up, holding a corsage in his hand. “Hey.”

You beamed at him. “Hi. Is…that for me?”

“Oh, yeah.” He looked at it like he had forgotten he had it. “You look pretty,” he told you as he slipped the corsage onto your wrist. You blushed as you pinned the boutonnière to his black suit jacket.

“You look handsome yourself,” you told him shyly.

Eddie drove the two of you to the school. The parking lot was packed with students’ cars and even a few rented limousines. Just as you were about to get out of the van, Eddie stopped you. He reached into his glove compartment and pulled out two black flasks, handing one to you.

“This should make this night a lot more fun, yeah?” He smirked. You smiled back, before making a face as you took a sip of the burning liquid. Eddie laughed, which made you start giggling, too.

You took a photo together at the booth near the gym doors, which Eddie wasn’t super excited about. The next thing he did was head for the food, piling a tiny plate full of appetizers. You followed him, grabbing a cup of punch to help wash down the liquor in your purse.

Eddie wouldn’t dance with you until after he’d finished his flask, claiming it was stupid and he wouldn’t be caught dead dancing at prom. But by the time he finished it, he had enough of a buzz that he didn’t care. You were tipsy, too, and absolutely elated when he stood and took your hand, leading you to the floor just as a slow song came on.

Eddie playfully groaned, rolling his eyes, but he pulled you close to his body anyway. Butterflies took flight in your stomach as he placed his hands on your hips and you wrapped yours around his neck. The two of you swayed together in time to the music. You could not stop smiling. You laid your head on Eddie’s chest, tuning out the music as you listened to his heartbeat.

After prom, you headed back to the van. You’d had the best night of your life, one you would never forget. Yeah, you were both a little bit intoxicated, but you were floating on the clouds for a whole different reason.

“D’you want to come back to my place?” Eddie asked as he started the engine. “We could drink a little more, smoke a joint. Wayne’s working.”

You wanted nothing more. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

At the trailer, Eddie rolled up a thick joint as you gathered the bottles of liquor and shot glasses from the cabinet. Eddie was back in normal clothes, and you’d changed into one of Eddie’s shirts and a pair of his sweatpants that were too big on you.

Eddie sparked up the joint as you poured each of you two shots of tequila. You clinked your glasses together before downing them both. Eddie took the first drag on the joint, his eyes falling closed as he inhaled the thick smoke. He looked gorgeous like this, curls still tamed and framing his face. The smoke escaped through his perfect lips, trailing up and throughout the bedroom. He handed the joint to you, and you gratefully took it, bringing it to your painted lips. Some of your lipstick had rubbed off on the shot glasses, leaving a stain.

As the night went on, the two of you got progressively more drunk and high. By the time it was 2am, the two of you were giggling messes, listening to music over the stereo and talking about the latest campaign. Suddenly, in your drunkenly stoned haze, you remembered the gift stashed in your purse.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, jumping up to grab your small bag. “I forgot. I got you something.”

“You got me something?” Eddie asked, confused, his words slightly slurring together.

You reached into the purse and pulled out the bag from Camelot. You hoped he loved it, because now that it was in your hands, you were suddenly nervous. You turned, smiling softly as you handed Eddie the bag. “I just saw it while I was at the mall with Robin and I thought of you.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at you as he took the bag. He reached inside and pulled out the Metallica tape, a huge grin spreading across his face immediately. “Shit! You didn’t have to do this. But it’s fuckin’ awesome you did.”

You giggled, flopping back onto the bed next to him. You laid with your head on his pillow, smiling up at Eddie from where he sat next to you. “I’m glad you like it. I know yours broke. Probably because you play it all the time.”

Eddie poked you in the side, making you laugh harder. “Shut up, Freak. You love Master of Puppets just as much as I do.”

“That’s true,” you conceded. You looked up at him, his chocolate brown eyes gazing down at you. They sparkled, like his personality was shining its way through. He had a strong nose, kissable lips. God, you wanted to kiss those lips.

Eddie had never realized how pretty you were. He always just saw you as his long time best friend, the girl who definitely crushed on him but he never saw that way. He still didn’t think he had feelings for you, but…you were pretty.

“Have you ever kissed a guy before?” He asked, pushing a section of hair off your shoulder.

You blushed at the question. You didn’t have much experience, your love life was nonexistent. But you had kissed someone, at least. “Yeah. Tommy Hagan in 7th grade.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Tommy Hagan? That dickhead? You never told me that.”

You shrugged, your cheeks red and hot. “It didn’t mean anything. I got invited to Heather Holloway’s birthday party and he was there. We all played spin the bottle. It only lasted two seconds and we never really talked again.” Eddie hummed. “What about you?”

It was Eddie’s turn to look sheepish. “Uh, yeah. A girl at school, Chrissy, in 8th grade. We didn’t date or anything.”

Now it was your turn to be shocked. “Chrissy Cunningham? You didn’t tell me that, either!” He had never mentioned her. You knew it was stupid, but you were struck with jealousy at his words.

“It was nothing,” he said, brushing it off.

“Look at us,” you laughed. “18 and almost 20, and we’re still a couple of virgins.”

Eddie looked down at you, something unfamiliar swimming behind his eyes. He had never wanted to kiss you before this moment, but now... “I mean, we can change that.”

Your heart stopped in your chest. “What do you mean?”

Eddie thought about it for a moment. This could be a point of no return, a step in a direction he didn’t want to take. But in his drunk and high mind…he wanted it. He wanted you.

He leaned forward slowly, so slowly. Your breath hitched in your throat right before his lips pressed against yours. They were just as soft as you always dreamed they were, and your mind went even more hazy from his kisses.

Neither of you were experienced at all and you were both pretty intoxicated, so the kiss was a little awkward and desperate. All tongues and teeth clashing together, hungry for one another. Eddie’s hand slid beneath your t-shirt - his Hellfire shirt - trailing up your smooth skin until he reached your breasts. You hadn’t worn a bra with your dress, so you were bare chested beneath the thin shirt. His calloused fingers delicately grazed your nipples, making you shiver. You’d never been touched there before, never felt anything like this. Being touched by Eddie was so much different than being touched by your own hand.

“I love your tits,” Eddie mumbled against your lips between kisses. You hummed, arching your back into his touch.

“Feels good, Ed,” you moaned quietly, body turning into pure electricity under his wandering touch. Your own hand tangled in the curls at the back of his neck, loving the way your bodies molded together, the feeling of his body finally pressed up against your own.

“Yeah?” He squeezed your breast one more time before his hand moved to your back, sliding down your body until he grabbed your ass, pulling you into him. You gasped, feeling how hard he was through his own sweatpants. “You feel how hard I am?”

“Yeah,” you whispered back. You moved your hand to his chest, sliding it down his body until you reached the tent in his pants. He groaned as you felt him, squeezing his cock through the material.

Eddie sat up, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere on the floor. You eyed his bare chest, the tattoos adorning his pale skin. You traced a finger over the design on the left side of his chest. God, he was so hot.

His hands slid up your shirt, pulling it up and off. His gaze dropped straight to your tits, he was practically drooling. He reached for the waistband of your sweatpants next, pulling them down your body slowly, leaving you in nothing but your panties. You were grateful you picked something pretty, red and lace.

“So sexy,” Eddie moaned. He leaned forward and kissed your stomach, which startled you a little. He trailed kisses up your body until he reached your breasts, where he ran his tongue over one of your nipples before wrapping his lips around it. You moaned as you arched into his touch, his mouth, whatever he would give you.

His hand slid down your body slowly, slowly, until it reached your panties. He slipped beneath them, fingers dipping between your folds. He could feel how insanely wet you were, and it only made his cock harder.

“So wet for me,” he said. “Bet you can’t wait for my cock.”

You whimpered as he pressed a finger against your entrance. Slowly, carefully he pushed it inside, stretching you for the first time. You gasped at the intrusion, but the pain faded quickly. Eddie slowly pumped his long finger in and out of your pussy, pressing against something deep inside that felt incredible as he curled his finger against it. He added a second finger shortly after, and the stretch was more intense, but from the feeling of the size of his cock in your hand, you knew it wouldn’t even be comparable.

Eddie fingered you a little longer, getting you nice and wet and ready for him, before he removed his hand and slipped your panties off. Now bare before him, he drank you in with his hungry eyes. His cock twitched in his pants.

You helped him push them down his hips, and he kicked them off onto the floor. He didn’t have boxers on underneath, and his dick was so much more impressive once fully revealed. It was big enough that it made you feel scared even through your mind haze.

“You can take it,” he assured you, his words still slightly slurred. “I know you can.”

He reached over you into the bedside table and pulled out an unopened box of condoms. “Finally get to use these,” he laughed, taking one out of the box and ripping it open. You watched as he slid the rubber over his hard cock, tip red and glistening. You wished you could have had a taste.

Eddie got in between your legs, kissing all over your neck before meeting your lips again. His tongue pressed into your mouth immediately, attempting to distract you from the pain where he was lining himself up and slowly beginning to push inside.

You whined as he began to fill you, inch by thick inch. When he was fully seated inside he pulled back and snapped his hips back into you, making you gasp. He set a quick pace, desperately rutting into you as he chased his pleasure, his drunken rhythm sloppy and uneven.

You held onto him tightly as he fucked into you, and he groaned into your neck where he had his face buried. “Feels so good,” he moaned, not exactly caring how you felt, only worried about his own quickly impending orgasm. It was his first time and he was not going to last.

“Eddie,” you whined, “you’re so big.”

He groaned at that. “Yeah, baby? You like it?”

“Mmhmm,” you moaned, and it did feel good, but he was also splitting you in half.

“Fuck,” he hissed, “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum.”

He pumped into you just a couple more times before he was stilling, buried to the hilt inside you as he filled the condom. He moaned loudly, body trembling on top of you as he rode out his orgasm. You didn’t get to cum, but you were too drunk to care.

Eddie pulled out, removing the condom and tying it off before tossing it into the trash can. He collapsed onto the bed next to you, his naked body sweaty, chest heaving.

“That was…good,” you said, not knowing if it was or not. You were happy to have lost your virginity to Eddie, and the whole night had been a dream. But he hadn’t exactly cared about your pleasure. You waited for Eddie to reply, to say anything, but nothing came.

He was already snoring.

—

The unbearably bright light shining through the window around his curtains is the first thing Eddie experienced the next morning. It woke him up, but he only squeezed his eyes shut tighter, groaning as the light made his pounding headache infinitely worse. Fuck, he drank way too much last night.

He barely even remembered it. He remembered the prom, he remembered drinking a lot, doing shots, and smoking a joint. He remembered you, but his memory was hazy. How did you get home anyway? He didn’t remember driving you home after prom.

Eddie stretched, his muscles stiff. He was naked beneath his blanket, which wasn’t entirely unusual. He probably just didn’t feel like changing once he got his suit off.

Eventually he figured he should get out of bed. He rolled over and stood with another old man groan. Fuck, he had to cut back on the drinking, because he definitely felt a lot older than 19 right now.

He pulled on some boxers and a pair of sweatpants he found on the floor, remaining shirtless. Wayne would be passed out in his own bedroom after a long night of work at the plant. But Eddie was starving, and he needed something for that headache.

When he stepped out of the room, the first thing he noticed was the smell. Something delicious was wafting from the kitchen, the smell of bacon overpowering some other food scents. That was weird. Wayne didn’t cook breakfast, not the morning after a work night. He walked down the hall cautiously, brows furrowed as he neared the end of the hallway. He turned the corner, and froze.

You were there in the kitchen, expertly flipping a pancake in a pan. A plate sat on the counter next to you filled with bacon, and another pan on the next burner was cooking scrambled eggs. Oh, and you were dressed in nothing but Eddie’s oversized t-shirt and your underwear.

Oh shit, Eddie thought. What the fuck did I do?

The floor creaked as he stepped into the kitchen, and you turned around, a smile spreading across your lips at the sight of him. “Hey, sleepyhead. I made us some breakfast. Thought you could use something on your stomach.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say or do. Did he sleep with you? Oh god. He was going to be sick. “Uh, good morning. You, uh, didn’t have to do all this.”

He watched as you plated the finished pancakes and eggs. “I thought we could both use a big breakfast after last night,” you said, giving him a smirk. Oh, shit. He did sleep with you last night. He drunkenly lost his virginity after prom, to you.

Fuck. He was a fucking idiot.

You started making plates for the both of you. “I set out a water bottle and some Tylenol for you over there,” you said, nodding to the corner of the counter. Eddie took the medicine immediately, desperate for some relief from his unbearable headache. Now he wasn’t sure what was making it worse, the hangover or the knowledge of what he’d done.

He sat down across from you at the small table. He didn’t know what to say. Your friendship would never be the same after this. He knew you liked him, he didn’t like you, then he slept with you. Now he had to crush your heart. He really felt like he was going to be sick.

“Did you sleep okay?” You finally asked as the two of you ate, breaking the silence.

“Huh?” Eddie snapped back to reality. “Oh. Yeah.”

You smiled softly at him. You figured he was just still cloudy from the weed. “I had a good time last night.”

“Yeah…” Eddie said. “Me too.”

Your face lit up at that, and he could have slapped himself. He didn’t mean that. He didn’t even remember the sex. He was not doing a good job of not leading you on. “Listen,” he said, “about that-“

“It was really good,” you said. Eddie’s watched as your cheeks turned red and you looked down at your plate. “Sorry. I just meant…I enjoyed it. Being with you.”

Eddie had suspected, known even, that you had a crush on him, but this was the first time you’d ever admitted it out loud. Eddie was really going to have to stomp on your heart to put an end to those thoughts, and it was all his fault. He never should have brought you home after prom. “Look, I-“

“I didn’t think you liked me back,” you continued, rambling nervously, excitedly. “I…to be honest with you I’ve had a crush on you for years, but I was always too scared to tell you. But you never seemed like you were into me…until last night.” You giggled, covering your mouth. “I can’t believe we’re together now.”

Together?

Oh, fuck. He couldn’t do this. He could not do this. He couldn’t crush your spirit, wipe that elated smile off your face. He’d never seen you look so happy. He felt like the biggest asshole.

“Oh, yeah,” he said instead. “Um, me either.”

“I can’t wait to tell Robin,” you continued. “She’s going to freak.”

—

Eddie couldn’t believe he had gotten himself into this situation.

Sure, you were his best friend so he liked your personality, and it’s not like you weren’t cute, but he just didn’t have feelings for you in the way you did for him. But now he had slept with you and you thought he liked you back. He had somehow, some way, become your actual boyfriend.

“I thought you didn’t like her like that?” Gareth asked the next school day after prom at lunch. You were sitting with Robin today. You often bounced between the marching band table and the Hellfire table.

“I don’t,” Eddie said simply.

Gareth, Jeff, and Grant looked at him like he was crazy. “Then how…why…?”

Eddie slammed his hand on the table. “Stop grilling me, okay?”

“Someone’s cranky,” Jeff muttered, turning back to his lunch tray in front of him.

“Yeah, you’re in a pretty shitty mood to be the only one of us to lose his virginity and get a girlfriend,” Grant commented. Gareth and Jeff agreed, nodding along.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie muttered. “Would be nice if it was with someone I’m actually into.”

“Harsh,” Gareth tsked. “You should be honest with her. You’re just leading her on.”

“I can’t.” Eddie buried his face in his hands, exasperated and stressed. “It’s gone too far. She thinks I’m her boyfriend. She thinks I like her back. I can’t crush her like that.”

The other three boys exchanged a look. “So…you’re just gonna marry her?” Grant asked.

Eddie froze. That is where this would eventually lead if he didn’t turn it around. But he was scared. He couldn’t bring himself to burst your bubble. “I’ll figure something out.”

As lunch was ending, Eddie jolted when you came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, babe,” you giggled. “How was lunch?”

“Good,” Eddie said, giving each Hellfire boy a look that said don’t say or do a damn thing.

“You guys are so cute,” Robin said, holding her hands over her chest as she tilted her head to the side with a smile. “I’m so happy you’re finally together.”

Eddie felt sick. Just like he had all weekend, since the morning after prom. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m a lucky guy.”

Your whole face lit up with a smile. “I was thinking maybe we could hang out after school. Do our homework and work on the Curse of Vecna.”

Eddie groaned internally. This was such a disaster. “Sure.”

That day after school Eddie drove you back to his place. He reluctantly did his homework with you, mostly copying your answers rather than actually learning anything. Then the two of you laid on his bed and made out.

Hey, if he was going to be stuck in this relationship with someone he didn’t actually care for, the least he could do was take advantage of the benefits.

—

You spent four years with Eddie before you started noticing something was off.

It was the scent you started noticing on his clothes at first, like flowers and vanilla. You lifted his shirt from the laundry, the unexpected smell hitting you. You didn’t own anything that smelled like this, and Eddie certainly didn’t. You knew the smell of his cheap cologne better than anything, the amount of times you’d laid your head on his chest and smelled that distinctly Eddie scent. Something was wrong.

When you confronted him about it, he brushed it off. “It’s this new girl at work. Her perfume is so strong, everyone smells like it.”

You accepted the answer for the time being. But then there were other things you began to notice. A scrunchie that definitely didn’t belong to you on the floor of the passenger side of his van. A condom wrapper in the bathroom trash after you’d been out of town for the weekend. And finally, a pair of pink panties stuffed into the back pocket of his jeans that were so clearly not yours it was nearly comical if it hadn’t made you want to die.

When you confronted him about it the next time, it was with tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat. “Eddie,” you said, your voice cracking as you tossed the panties onto the floor in front of where he sat on the couch. “What are these?”

Eddie knew he had been caught. There was no getting out of it this time. You didn’t own any underwear like that, and it was the wrong size. How could he have been so stupid to have kept the panties? “I…”

“Really?” You sobbed. “You have nothing to say?”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.” Eddie looked down at his hands. “Yeah, I’ve been sleeping with someone else.”

Even though you already knew his words were true, they still hit you right in the heart. You could feel it cracking, could feel the fault lines forming, the blood and life seeping out of it. “With who?” You asked, barely audible. You weren’t sure if you wanted the answer, but you needed it.

“That’s not important-“

“It is important,” you said. “It’s important to me.”

Eddie didn’t respond at first. He didn’t want to respond. “Chrissy Cunningham,” he answered reluctantly at last. “But don’t pull her into this, she doesn’t deserve to be-“

“Chrissy Cunningham?” You scoffed. “Eddie, we’ve been together for four years. Chrissy knows we’re together. So she was just fine sleeping with a guy she knew was taken?” You laughed humorlessly through the tears. “Wow. You guys are perfect for each other, then.”

Eddie shook his head. “Don’t do that, man, she-“

“‘Man’?” You couldn’t believe the conversation you were having. “Wow, I sure got demoted from baby fast, huh?”

He rubbed his hands over his face. “Please. I don’t wanna do this. I don’t feel like doing this.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have cheated!” You yelled back. “Why would you do this? How could you do this to me? I thought you loved me.”

Eddie mumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t catch.

“What?” You asked. “I can’t hear you. Just fucking tell me. Why would you do this to me?”

When Eddie looked up at you, his eyes were full of anger, flames flickering behind his normally sweet doe eyes. The ones you had gazed into, taken comfort in so many times. When he opened his mouth, nothing but poison seeped out.

“Because I never loved you!” Eddie yelled, hands running through his hair to the point he was practically pulling it out. You had never seen him so upset. “Fuck! I went out with you because we were friends and I felt bad, and by the time we’d been together for months it was too late. I never liked you back like that. That’s the truth, finally.”

His words hit you like a shot to the chest. You stared at him with your lips parted, staggering gasps being dragged into your lungs. You shook uncontrollably as if it were suddenly freezing. But the tears didn’t yet fall. You felt like you might be in shock. “How…”

“How did I pretend to be in love with you?” He scoffed. “I didn’t do a very good job of it, but it doesn’t seem like you ever noticed. You were so blinded by who you wanted me to be, you couldn’t see what was right in front of you. Hey, as long as I came home and fucked you before passing out next to you, you just took it.” He laughed, a cruel, sinister laugh. “You just let me treat you like shit. Like you have no respect for yourself, or were just that obsessed with me.”

You didn’t even know who this was in front of you right now. This person who looked like Eddie, sounded like Eddie, but was spewing such horrible, hurtful words that Eddie never would. You didn’t recognize him at all. You wanted to blame his words on his heightened emotions, but you could tell everything he said was true. Especially with the cheating to back it up.

That’s not how you treated someone you cared about.

“So you just led me on for four years instead of telling me?” You asked. There was no fight behind your voice like there was in his. Only hurt and defeat. “Eddie…even before all this, you were my best friend. How could you do this to me?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. Because he was a selfish idiot coward? That was the truth. “Look, me and Chrissy- it just happened. It wasn’t supposed to, but it did. She came in to the Hideout, we got to talking-“

“And you fucked her?” You finished for him.

He just looked at you. “Yeah.”

The truth was, Eddie felt bad. He knew he had fucked up astronomically bad. He had led you on, used your body, betrayed you. Wasted four years of your life. He knew you thought he was the one, he knew you were waiting for a proposal that was never going to come. It was his fault things had gotten this far.

Maybe he thought he could fake it ‘til he made it. Maybe he thought if he pretended to be into you, eventually he would be. But that never happened.

And now you were crying, hard. His chest ached for some reason, even though he had no right to hurt for what he had done to you. He deserved to feel like shit.

He wasn’t prepared for the next words that came out of your mouth.

“I’m pregnant, Eddie,” you said, eyes squeezed shut as if that would stop the torrent of tears currently streaming down your face. There was no response. You had to force yourself to open your eyes and look, wondering if he was even still there.

He was. He stared at you, brown eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open. “You’re- no.”

“I am,” you said, voice hoarse from crying. “I…”

Eddie shook his head. “No. No, no, no. This is not happening. It’s not fucking happening.”

You only cried harder. The pregnancy hormones had nothing to do with this; this was pure devastation, pure heartbreak. Your heart felt like it had crumbled in your chest and there was nothing left to repair even if you could.

“Let me see the test,” he said, holding a hand out.

“Why would I lie?” You asked, voice weak. You were so emotionally worn out, you felt like you could sleep for weeks. Months. Years. You wanted to.

“Because you want me to stay with you?” He scoffed. “Look, I’m not saying you’re lying, but I want to see to be sure.”

You just stared at him. Finally, you said “Fine,” going into your shared bedroom and coming out with a piece of paper with your office visit report. “I went to the doctor. Here.”

Eddie took the paper from your hands, examining it carefully. Sure enough, under “Reason for Visit/Diagnosis”, it said “Pregnancy - 8 weeks”.

“Christ,” Eddie said. He rubbed his hands over his face, like he was trying to erase the information from his brain. He was panicked. He couldn’t be a dad. Not right now, maybe not ever. He didn’t even know if he wanted kids. And with you? His soon to be ex girlfriend who he had treated like shit and didn’t love? “I mean fuck, man. What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” you said. Your voice was small, like all the fight had left you.

Eddie felt like he had ruined his life. For one thing, you were both still so young. That was without even mentioning the mess of a ‘relationship’ he had gotten himself involved in, the fact that it would never work out even if he wanted it to because he didn’t have feelings for you, and now he was standing here crushing his pregnant girlfriend’s heart. Like an asshole.

He was an asshole, and he knew it.

“Look,” he said finally. “If there’s really a kid-“

“There is.”

Eddie continued. “I’m not gonna abandon it. I’ll…be here. I’ll pay child support, I want to share custody, I want to be involved.”

You nodded. At least there was that, you supposed. As heart broken as you were, as much as you felt like going to sleep and never waking up again, you couldn’t bear the thought of Eddie leaving both of you. This baby deserved better.

“Look, I…I need some time. I’m gonna go stay with Wayne for a little while. Until I can get my own place.” Eddie looked at you with pity now, the news of the pregnancy dousing the fire of his earlier cruelty. “You can keep the apartment. We’ve got the guest room for the baby, unless you decide to move out.”

You just nodded again. “Okay, Eddie.”

The two of you looked at each other. This wasn’t just the end of your apparent farce of a relationship, but also of your nearly lifelong friendship. Things between you and Eddie would never be the same again. He had taken your heart you gave to him and stomped on it, spit on it.

That was the thing you couldn’t get past. He hadn’t just rejected you, he had destroyed you. The cheating, the lying. Playing you like a fucking game. Like you meant nothing not just to him, but at all. You didn’t know how you’d ever learn to trust again, or if you even wanted to. Eddie slept on the couch that night, too late at night to drive to Wayne’s.

When you woke up the next morning, he was gone.

—

Your pregnancy was difficult. You had severe morning sickness in the beginning - hyperemesis gravidarum, your doctor called it. You struggled to keep any food down, and ended up hospitalized for fluids multiple times. Your doctor was concerned and considered you a high risk pregnancy. You went from monthly doctor visits to weekly. You felt pretty sure your emotional devastation wasn’t helping your physical health whatsoever.

Eddie was helpful, at least. He called you every couple of days to see how you were doing and if you needed anything. He remembered your appointment days and called to ask what the doctor said. He shopped for your groceries for you and dropped them off at the house. It would have felt nice, if you didn’t know he was only doing it for the baby and not you, and if you didn’t know he was still sleeping with Chrissy.

You went through most of the pregnancy alone. At 16 weeks, you noticed a bump for the first time, standing in front of your full length mirror as you got ready for work. It took you by surprise, this little baby bump that seemed to have popped up overnight. You ran your hand over the skin there, surprised by how firm it felt. There was really a little baby in there.

You had an ultrasound that afternoon. You were thrilled to see the baby, one of the only things you looked forward to anymore. The technician showed you your baby, thriving and wiggling around in there. It made your heart swell. She measured the heartbeat and played it out loud, the little whoosh whoosh whoosh comforting.

Eddie came to the apartment that evening to bring you the baby swing he had bought. You were in the kitchen cooking yourself chicken alfredo for dinner, wearing a thin tank top and your short sleep shorts. Eddie let himself in, since he still had a key in case of emergencies. You weren’t surprised to hear him coming in since he’d told you he’d be over.

You heard his footsteps heading into the kitchen, then - “Woah.”

You turned from where you’d been stirring the sauce, raising an eyebrow at him. “What?”

He gestured towards your stomach. “You, uh…your…”

You laughed lightly. “The bump? Yeah, that’s new.”

Eddie walked over towards you, leaning against the counter next to the stove. He didn’t know how to feel about it. It was strange to see, and it made him feel weird in his chest. Something he’d never felt before. “It’s…it’s cute. You look cute.”

You laughed again. “I’m about to get a lot bigger.”

The two of you stood in silence for a minute. Then, finally, Eddie worked up the courage to ask - “Can I…can I feel?”

You were surprised by the question. Sure, Eddie had been pretty devoted to this baby during the pregnancy, but it still caught you off guard. “Oh. Sure.”

You turned and he walked up to you cautiously. He raised his hands, slowly moving them towards you as he looked up at you for confirmation it was still okay. Finally he placed his hands on your belly, feeling the firm bump beneath his hands. It was real. He knew it was real, but now it was real.

“Wow,” he said after a minute. “That’s…wow.” He gently rubbed the bump, in shock that that was his child beneath his hand.

“I got an ultrasound today,” you said. “Want to see?”

“Of course,” he answered immediately. He watched as you headed into the living room, already developing the slightest little waddle. He couldn’t help but smile.

You pulled the printed photos from your purse, bringing them over. Eddie gently took them from your hands. “Holy shit!” He said, laughing as he closely examined the photos. “It really looks like a little baby now instead of a blob.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a smile. “They said we’d find out if it’s a boy or a girl at the next one. At 20 weeks.”

Eddie’s eyes darted up to you. “Really? Can I…go?”

You raised your eyebrows. “Really? You want to come with me to the appointment?”

“Yeah, of course. I want to know what we’re having. I want to be there myself.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, thinking about it. “How will Chrissy feel about that?”

Eddie’s expression hardened for the first time since he’d come over. “I can do whatever I want. And we’re not talking about her right now.”

You rolled your eyes, heading back into the kitchen to tend to your dinner. “I guess you can come, Eddie. It’s your baby too. But don’t bring her.”

“I’m not,” he assured you. You thought he’d have to be a fucking idiot to bring her, anyway. “I just want to be there.”

You felt like you couldn’t take that from him. If he wanted to be an involved father, he could. You encouraged that, in fact. This baby didn’t deserve to be born into the mess that was your relationship, or what used to be your relationship. Your issues with Eddie needed to be put aside for the sake of your child.

So, four weeks later, you waddled your 20 week pregnant self down the stairs of your apartment complex and into Eddie’s van where he sat idling, waiting to pick you up. He helped you climb in, and you waved him off when he tried to buckle you up. “I’ve got it, Eddie. I’m not totally helpless.”

“I know,” he said, “I just want to help.”

You rode to the doctor’s office without speaking, the only sounds being the heavy music playing over the stereo. You couldn’t stand it. Since the break up, you couldn’t listen to Eddie’s music anymore. Too many memories, too many associations.

When he pulled up at the office, he hopped out quickly to run around and offer you a hand as you carefully climbed down. The bump was significantly bigger already, it was in the way and threw off your center of balance. And Eddie was not about to let you fall and hurt yourself and the baby.

You had grown to know the staff at the office since you were there so often. They greeted you by name the second you walked in, looking pleased to see you. In the exam room, Eddie sat in the visitor’s chair, looking as awkward as he felt.

When the tech walked in, she barely managed to contain the surprise on her face to see Eddie with you. You had been to every appointment alone, and they knew you weren’t together with the father. But she quickly plastered a smile to her face, walking over to you.

“Are you excited?” She asked you. “It’s a big day!”

“So excited,” you giggled. “I’m ready to know.”

You laid back and lifted your shirt up and she squirted the cold gel onto your belly, your least favorite part. She placed the wand on your stomach and began moving it around. There was a screen only she could see, and a bigger screen facing you and Eddie that showed the baby.

The little wiggling baby popped up on the screen, moving all around. You smiled, relieved to see the little guy or girl was doing well. You always worried between ultrasounds that something would happen.

The two of you watched as the tech examined and measured the various body parts, making notes in your chart as she performed the exam. Then, finally, it was time.

“Okay,” she said. “Everything looks great! Do you want to know what you’re having?”

“Yes,” you and Eddie answered immediately at the same exact time. You glanced at each other, laughing lightly.

You were nervous. You weren’t sure why. You really didn’t have a preference for the baby’s sex, but this was a huge deal. This made it real, really real. The baby was about to go from “the baby” to your son or daughter. They would have a name, you would be able to shop more. This was a huge moment, and your heart thumped hard in your chest.

She moved the wand a little, looking where she needed to look. She smiled - “It’s a healthy baby girl.”

You choked out a light sob, hands moving up to cover your mouth. You couldn’t believe it. A baby girl, a daughter. Your daughter. Thoughts flashed through your mind of pink little dresses, playing dolls, dance recitals and late night dance parties. Or maybe she would be more of a tomboy, playing sports and getting dirty. You would love her no matter who she turned out to be.

Eddie stared at the screen in awe. A daughter. He was having a daughter. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t have a preference for the gender either, but hearing it was a girl, it just felt right. Like this was the child he was meant to have, this was the perfect outcome. His body overflowed with the love he felt for this tiny person already. He nearly reached over and grabbed your hand, but thought better of it. It wasn’t his hand to hold anymore.

You left the appointment in high spirits with a stack of ultrasound photos in your hand. You kept looking them over, amazed at how much the baby looked like a baby. Just as you were about to get back in the van, you felt something move that made you gasp and nearly drop your bag.

“What??” Eddie asked, immediately by your side. “Are you okay? Is it the baby?”

You looked up at him wide eyed. “I…” You were about to say something else when you felt the movement again. You quickly grabbed Eddie’s hand and placed it on your stomach, right where you felt it.

He looked at you strangely, but kept his hand there. Then, a second later - another kick, right where Eddie’s hand lay.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed, jerking his hand back out of instinct before putting it back. “Did she just kick?”

“I think so,” you said, an incredulous giggle in your voice.

“She’s strong,” Eddie commented with a smile. He gently rubbed his hand over the bump. “My girl. Gonna be a soccer player or something. Or just kick some serious ass.”

You laughed, your hand resting next to Eddie’s. “This has been the best day I’ve had in months.”

Eddie felt a pang of guilt at that. He knew he was the reason for your sadness, for your pain. And now here you were, giving him the greatest gift he could dream of, even if it’s one he didn’t expect. He couldn’t wait for this baby to be here.

Robin threw you a baby shower when you were 33 weeks pregnant. You were huge and uncomfortable, and still mentally a disaster. But Robin had put in so much work you were at least going to make an attempt to enjoy yourself.

She had taken you shopping for a dress, and you’d landed on a long, light pink one with a hem right beneath your breasts, the rest of the dress draped over your belly. It made you feel pretty, even if gigantic.

When you and Robin walked in, the party was already underway, your friends, family, and acquaintances mingling around, eating from the buffet table. There was a table surrounded and piled high with gifts, a rocking chair with a bow on it sitting next to it.

“Oh my god, Robs,” you said, tears springing to your eyes. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course I did,” she said, nudging your arm. “You deserve it, babes. You and her both.” She placed a hand over your belly, making you smile. “You’ve been put through hell this pregnancy, the least I can do is give you a good party.”

Robin led you over to the buffet table, where Steve Harrington was standing. You furrowed your brows at your best friend as you walked, and she gave you a sheepish smile and shrug.

“He’s different now,” she said. You couldn’t believe your ears. “He’s not King Steve anymore. And he helped me out a ton with this party. He’s kind of a dingus, but he’s cool.”

Steve gave you a kind smile as you approached. “Hey,” he said once you’d both reached him, standing up straight. “Congratulations. You look beautiful.”

You blushed, because you certainly didn’t expect him to say that. “I’m huge,” you said.

Steve chuckled. “Well, you’re growing a whole human. Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s hard work.”

You were completely shocked that Steve was being so nice to you. He had never been mean to you, but he definitely saw you and Eddie as Freaks in high school, and never gave you or Robin the time of day. He really did seem different.

“Come on,” Robin said, pulling gently on your arm. “Let’s get you and that baby something to eat. It’s gonna be a great party.”

And it was a good party. You were having a good time talking with your guests, everyone wanting to feel the baby and asking you questions. The food was good, too, you thought as you filled your third plate in 30 minutes. You were having a good time.

That is, until the door opened and two guests walked in late.

Eddie walked in, looking awkward, a gift bag in hand. He knew a good number of the people in attendance hated him, and for good reason. The fact that Eddie showed up to your party wasn’t the bad part. You were on okay terms. It was the fact that he walked in, hand in hand with Chrissy Cunningham.

Your heart stopped in your chest. You hated that you still weren’t over Eddie, but it was the truth. You felt like you would throw up at the sight.

“Oh, fuck no,” Robin muttered under her breath from next to you, before she stood tall and started walking over to them with purpose.

“Robs, wait!” You called, following after her, but Robin’s long strides were much faster than your 8 month pregnant waddle. Robin was already there when you reached the three, her finger pointed in Eddie’s face.

“And what do you think gives you the right to come marching into her party with your little girlfriend?” She was yelling, fury in her eyes like you’d never seen. “What the fuck is wrong with you??”

“Robin-“ you started, but she wasn’t even hearing you.

“You are the scum of the fucking earth,” she said to Eddie. “You don’t belong here. You don’t belong outside enjoying the day. You belong in a cave.”

Eddie was looking at her with an irritated expression on his face. Chrissy stood next to him, her big eyes wide as she held onto his arm. It made you feel so much worse.

“This is my daughter’s baby shower,” he said. “I have a right to be here.”

“No, this is her shower.” Robin gestured towards where you stood slightly behind her without even turning around. “This is for her. She has been through hell, and it’s entirely your fault. The only thing you did besides ruin her life is put the damn baby in her. Good job, Eddie!”

Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Down, guard dog, this has nothing to do with you. Get out of my face. I’m here to celebrate my daughter. Not yours.”

“And you had to bring your skank with you?”

Both you and Chrissy gasped. You had never heard her speak that way before. Eddie’s eyes darkened. “Don’t talk about her like that. She has nothing to do with this.”

“She slept with you multiple times while knowing you were in a relationship. So yeah, she’s a skank, and you’re a slut too. I guess you guys are made for each other.”

“Babe, why don’t we just go-“ Chrissy said softly.

“Babe,” Robin mocked. “How cute.”

“I’m not leaving,” Eddie said, looking from Chrissy to Robin, and finally to you. “I deserve to be here. So get over yourself.”

“I think you should leave, Eddie.”

You turned as you all looked behind you, where Steve had walked up. His expression was serious, and Eddie narrowed his eyes at him.

“This doesn’t concern you, Harrington.”

“Well, it kind of does,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “These are my friends. I helped organize the party. No one would have cared if you wanted to be here, but you had to go and bring your girlfriend to rub in her face?”

Eddie was taken aback. He couldn’t believe Steve Harrington was here and had the nerve to talk to him and his girlfriend this way. He was about to say something rude back when you spoke up.

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice timid. “They can stay.”

Steve and Robin looked at you with concern etched on both of their faces. “Are you sure?” Steve asked quietly. “Robin told me your pregnancy has been complicated. You don’t need any extra stress.”

“It’s okay,” you repeated. You weren’t entirely sure if you were really okay with it, but you didn’t want drama at your baby shower. At least, not any more drama than what had already been caused.

Steve looked at you, giving you any chance to change your mind, but you didn’t say anything else. Steve looked at Eddie and Chrissy. “She says you can stay, you can stay.”

The rest of the party was admittedly very awkward. Eddie kind of felt like shit - he knew he shouldn’t have brought Chrissy here. It was the wrong move. He thought maybe it would be alright, but the second he walked in the door he knew what a mistake it had been.

When it was time for gifts, you felt a little uncomfortable. Even as a child you had never enjoyed the whole “opening gifts in front of the whole guest list” part of parties, but you knew your older relatives would find it rude if you didn’t.

You got a lot of lovely gifts - lots of girly clothes and tiny dresses, bottles, burp cloths, a baby monitor, baby soap and towels, health stuff, toys, all kinds of things. You even got some bigger items, like a high chair, a car seat, and a stroller. You were so grateful you teared up multiple times. As a single mom, you had been worried sick about how you’d afford a lot of this stuff.

When you opened Eddie’s gift, it was just a piece of paper inside the bag. You were confused, until you took the paper out and saw the photo of the crib you had been eyeing on it, and a note that he had ordered it for you. Cue the waterworks.

Chrissy’s gift was probably the ugliest baby clothes you’d ever seen in size 24m and a toy she wouldn’t be able to play with for years. You wanted to throw the gift back in her face. She did that shit on purpose.

The rest of the party went well. You managed to avoid Chrissy, or maybe she was avoiding you. You gave each of your friends and family hugs as they left when the party was over, thanking them for coming and for their gifts.

Eddie gave you a nod as he and Chrissy left. He was always so much more pleasant when he wasn’t with her. You could always tell when she was in his ear, too, because he would start stupid arguments and stress you out. You were tired of Chrissy in your business. You never wanted to see her for the rest of your life.

But that was Eddie’s girlfriend, the girl he actually liked, and Eddie was this baby’s father. So you supposed you’d have to live with her.

At 33 weeks, days after the shower, you noticed horrible swelling in your hands and feet. More than the normal pregnancy swelling. You brought it up at your doctor’s appointment, and she was immediately concerned.

Your blood pressure was through the roof. You were diagnosed with pre eclampsia and told to head straight to the hospital to be admitted.

You cried on the way to the car. This whole pregnancy had been hell, and as excited as you were to meet the baby, you were miserable. And it wasn’t time for her to come yet. You were terrified.

You drove around the corner to the hospital’s main entrance, walking inside and giving the receptionist the paper from your doctor. They had you upstairs and set up in bed in no time, hooked up to monitors and put on strict bed rest.

The first thing you did once you were settled was grab the bedside phone. You dialed Robin’s number first, filling her in through tears. She promised to be over right after work with movies to watch, wanting to make you as comfortable as possible while you had to be in the hospital.

Next, you called Eddie.

“Hello?” He answered, a laugh in his voice, and you could hear Chrissy giggling in the background. It made you feel infinitely worse.

“Eddie. It’s me.” It was obvious in your voice that you’d been crying.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, suddenly serious. “Is it the baby? Is she coming? It’s too early!”

You sniffled. “Not yet. But I have pre eclampsia. They hospitalized me and put me on bed rest until the baby is born.”

“Shit,” Eddie hissed. “Do you, uh…do you need me?”

“Can you run by the apartment and grab my bag I packed?” You asked. “Maybe throw some extra stuff in there since I’m going to be here for a while?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The next week in the hospital was a long one. You were bored to death, even with Robin and Steve coming by every day after work and on their days off. They would bring different movies from Family Video every day, and they had bought you a collection of board games to play together.

At 34 weeks, things took a turn for the worse.

Your water broke and labor began far too early. You were in a panic. Robin had been visiting at the time, and next thing you knew, doctors and nurses were rushing in, checking your vitals and fussing over you. The contractions started immediately, coming strong and fast.

“Call Eddie!” You called to a shocked Robin, who froze for only a few seconds before dashing for the phone.

By the time Eddie sprinted through the door, breathless and mercilessly alone, things were well underway. Labor had set in fast, and the baby’s vitals were dropping. They had to get her out as soon as possible.

“We’re going to be taking you back for a C section, okay?” The doctor told you kindly, but you could hear the seriousness of the situation in his tone. “We need to get this baby out right now.”

You had never been more terrified in your life. You could not lose this baby. You didn’t care much about your own well-being, but losing this baby would kill you.

“Can I come?” Eddie asked, his voice shaking. He was equally terrified. This baby, his daughter, meant the world to him already and she wasn’t even here yet. He needed both of you to be okay.

“Yes, you’ll just have to change into a pair of scrubs,” the doctor said. “One of the nurses will bring you some then bring you to the OR. We just need to get her in there and prepped immediately.”

Eddie watched as they wheeled you from the room quickly, disappearing down the hall with an urgency that made him sick to his stomach. Just as he’d been told, a nurse walked up with a pair of surgical scrubs and a hair cap, snapping him out of his internal panic.

He went into the bathroom and changed into the scrubs, pulling his hair up into a bun and putting the cap on. He slipped the shoe covers on last. He felt like he looked ridiculous, but he really didn’t have time to think about that right now.

Inside the operating room, you laid on a table with your arms strapped down out to the side. You also wore a cap over your hair, and a large drape curtained off everything below your chest.

“Hey,” you said, sounding nice and calm and a little out of it. “You came.”

“Of course I came,” Eddie said. He stood next to you as the doctor got to work. He did not want to think about what was going on behind that curtain.

It wasn’t long before the doctor said “Here she is!” and the next thing Eddie knew, he heard a shrill cry. It made his heart stutter in his chest, he lost his breath. Moments later one of the nurses came around with the tiniest baby Eddie had ever seen, wrapped in a hospital blanket. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His child.

You gazed at the tiny bundle in the nurse’s arms. You were so drugged up you couldn’t really comprehend the moment, but you knew that tiny bundle was your daughter. Here at last. And alive, healthy. Pink skin and a head full of brown hair.

“Would you like to hold her?” The nurse asked as the doctor went to work on stitching you up. “We have to get her to the NICU, so only for a moment. I’m sorry.”

The NICU. Eddie didn’t want to think too hard about that. “Yes, I want to hold her.” Eddie held out his arms and the nurse gently placed the tiny baby in them.

She was so small. She felt like glass, like the most fragile thing in the world. He took in every aspect of her appearance, from her hair that matched his, to her tiny button nose, her little pink lips. Her eyes were closed, so he didn’t get to see her eye color.

He moved over to you and held the baby down for you to see. “Here she is,” he whispered to you. “Our baby girl.”

You smiled a loopy smile, but you could feel the love practically bursting out of your chest. “Hi, Lottie,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. “Charlotte Mae.”

Charlotte did great, and had none of the problems common in premature babies. It was a miracle, and you were so grateful.

There was a knock at your door before it opened. Robin walked in, Steve trailing behind her. They both had smiles on their faces and held gift bags. Steve held a bouquet of beautiful flowers. He wore a yellow sweater and jeans, his long hair styled. You couldn’t help but notice how cute he was.

“Hey, mama, how are you feeling?” Robin greeted, coming over and giving you a kiss on the cheek. She looked down at the sleeping baby in your arms. “Hi, Lottie!”

“We’re doing good,” you said, a tired smile on your face. Eddie had been over earlier, but had to leave when Chrissy called the hospital phone, demanding he come home. It had made your chest ache, especially when he obeyed.

“Hey,” Steve said, moving to your other side. He held up the flowers. “I, uh, brought these for you.”

“Had the idea, picked them out, and bought them himself,” Robin said, wiggling her eyebrows.

The way Steve was looking at you did something to you, something felt deep in your chest. “Thank you,” you smiled at him. “They’re beautiful.”

“We also brought you these,” Robin said, placing both gift bags on your lap. One was purple with pink tissue paper, and the other was blue with yellow paper. “Can Auntie Robs hold her now?”

“Of course,” you replied, gently passing the tiny bundle into Robin’s waiting arms. She held the baby like a natural, gently rocking her.

You reached for the purple bag first. You pulled the paper out and found a comfy pair of pajamas for yourself, and a matching set for Charlotte. There was a card inside that read, I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be the best mom ever! Love, Auntie Robs.

You almost teared up, looking at Robin. “Thank you,” you said. “This means so much.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “Now open Steve’s!”

You laughed as you grabbed the blue bag and removed the paper. Inside you found an assortment of candy, and a small teddy bear. A card inside read Motherhood looks beautiful on you. You’re going to rock it. I’m glad we’ve become friends. Love, Steve.

“How did you know I have a sweet tooth?” You asked Steve with a laugh. You couldn’t focus on his note right now unless you really wanted to cry.

“Robin,” he laughed. “She filled me in.”

Robin and Steve visited for as long as they could, taking turns holding Charlotte and helping to take care of both her and you. You were so grateful to have such support, such amazing friends.

Custody was a whole other ordeal. You and Eddie had agreed that he would get Charlotte every other weekend, starting when she was 5 months old and could take a bottle when she was with Eddie since you were breastfeeding.

It worked out, Eddie didn’t argue with you much unless Chrissy started convincing him to, as she sometimes did. He started missing his scheduled weekends, claiming plans with Chrissy. The thing is that Chrissy knew what weekends Eddie had Charlotte, and she would do this on purpose. And he just let her.

It made you so mad. Lottie deserved better than this. She deserved a father who was excited to see her any chance he got. You began to resent Eddie more and more.

It was Saturday night, and Eddie had bailed for the weekend again. He was taking Chrissy to Indianapolis to spend the weekend and go shopping. Honestly, you were in the mood for a good cry.

Not only was Eddie bailing on his visitation, but he was also pushing for more. You didn’t understand it, but you knew who was behind it. Chrissy just liked stirring up shit between you and Eddie. You were convinced she got a kick out of it.

You figured the best way to get a good cry was to go rent a sappy movie. You were sure a good romance would have you sobbing within the hour. You packed Lottie’s diaper bag, strapped her in her car seat, and drove to Family Video.

You smiled when you saw Steve behind the counter through the glass doors. He was on the phone as you walked in, but he gave you a big smile and held up a finger to tell you to hold on a second. You started browsing the movies, seeing what was available.

Steve got off the phone as quickly as possible, rushing over to your side. “Hey, Lottie,” he greeted the baby on your hip, making her giggle and reach for him. You handed her off as Steve happily took her. “So, what brings you in today? Not that I’m not excited to see you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Steve. “Rough weekend. I need a good cry.”

He frowned. “Why?”

You sighed. “Just Eddie and Chrissy stuff. The usual.”

Steve nodded in understanding, but it pissed him off. He hated the hell Eddie and his girlfriend put you through on a constant basis. He wished he could make it better. “So you need a sad movie?”

“Yeah. Any recommendations?”

He thought for a minute. He browsed the shelves as Lottie played with his name tag. “Hmm…oh!” He reached forward and plucked a VHS off the shelf. “This one will get you for sure.”

You took it from his hands. “Steel Magnolias. I haven’t seen it.”

“Oh, it’ll definitely make you cry,” Steve laughed as you examined the tape, reading the back synopsis.

“Do you know that because it made you cry?” You teased, a playful smile on your lips as you looked at him again.

Steve blushed bright red. “Maybe.”

You laughed, poking him in the side. “Who knew you were such a sap, Steve Harrington.”

“Hey,” he said, holding up his free hand in surrender. “Chicks dig a guy who’s in tune with his emotions.”

“Is that so?”

“It is so,” Steve confirmed with a grin. You could never wipe the smile off your face when Steve was around. He was just so fun, and kind, and funny. He was a great friend, and cute, too, if you let yourself admit it.

You exchanged the tape for Lottie then followed Steve back to the counter where he checked you out. “Just one movie tonight?”

“Yeah. I pass out too early now to watch more than one.”

Steve chuckled as he scanned the tape and pulled up your account. He clicked on his computer for a few seconds before a receipt began to print. “Alright, you’re all set.”

“Thanks,” you smiled as you took the tape and receipt from him. “I’ll see you around, Steve!” You turned and began walking to the front door, ready to get home, get Lottie comfy in bed, then watch your movie.

“Hey,” Steve said, stopping you. You turned around, confused.

“What’s up?”

“Um…” Steve cleared his throat. “Would you…want to go out sometime?” His voice was nervous, like you’d never heard it before.

His words caught you off guard. You raised your eyebrows, switching the baby to the other arm. “What?”

“Go out? Like, on a date?”

You blinked at him. “You want to go on a date…with me?”

“Yeah,” he smiled nervously at you. “I’ve…been wanting to ask you out for a while. But you just had so much going on, I didn’t want to add more stress to your plate…”

“Steve, you could never do anything but make my life better. I love spending time with you.”

He beamed at that. “Yeah? Well…would you want to go on a date with me?”

“Sure,” you smiled. “I would love that.”

You finished packing up Charlotte’s bag, making sure it was stocked with plenty of clothes and her favorite toys, including the teddy bear Steve had given her, which was her absolute favorite. Eddie had plenty of diapers and wipes at his house so you didn’t have to worry about that.

You had your date with Steve tonight. He was going to be picking you up shortly after Lottie left, so you had already gotten ready. You wore a short little dress that you’d been waiting for an excuse to wear forever, your hair hung perfectly, and you had done some light makeup. You hadn’t dressed up like this and gone on a date in…ever.

There was a knock at the door right on time. “There’s daddy!” You told Charlotte, who smiled big and clapped her little hands together. You scooped her up and headed for the front door, opening it to reveal Eddie.

Eddie smiled at Charlotte, but immediately took notice of your look. “Where are you going all dolled up? Got a hot date?” He asked, a sneer in his voice.

Your smile dropped. So he was going to be like this today. “Yeah. I do, actually.”

Eddie didn’t like that. The thought of it struck an unusual and unwelcome jealousy into his chest. “With who?”

“That’s none of your business,” you said. You handed over Charlotte’s bag. “I can do whatever I want. You cheated on me, remember?”

He didn’t acknowledge your second comment. “It is my business if you’re bringing my daughter around some guy.”

You stared him down. “Well, you bring your mistress around our daughter, so I don’t think you have the right to say anything.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened. “Chrissy is my girlfriend.”

“Sure.” You turned to Charlotte, smiling at her. “I’ll see you Sunday, baby girl. I love you so much.” You gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek before handing her off to Eddie. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

Eddie left, and you sighed. You took some deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. You would not let Eddie ruin this night. This was your first time being asked on a date, and you were going to have a good time.

It was about 15 minutes later that Steve picked you up. He looked handsome, wearing a button up shirt and jeans. He held a beautiful bouquet of flowers that he handed you as you opened the door.

“You look gorgeous,” he said, and you could tell from his voice that he truly meant it. You blushed deeply as you took the flowers.

“Thank you,” you smiled. Steve followed you into the apartment, stepping over toys as you walked into the kitchen. You grabbed a vase and filled it with water, placing the flowers inside.

“Where are we going?” You asked as you walked with Steve to his car. He held the passenger side door open for you, and you smiled at him as you slid in. He was such a gentleman.

“I was thinking, dinner and a movie is too lame, too cliche. We watch movies all the time. So,” he gestured into the backseat, “I packed us a picnic, and got us tickets to see David Bowie in the city tonight.”

You stared at him, blinking. “I…no you didn’t.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, I did. I know you’re a big fan, and he was performing nearby, so…”

“Oh my god!” Your heart was beating out of your chest, you felt like it would explode. “Steve. Oh my god.”

Steve was very proud of himself for this one. He knew you’d freak out, but your reaction was even better than he hoped. “That’s why I asked you out tonight specifically. I, uh…already had the tickets.”

You quickly swiped a falling tear off your cheek before it could mess up your makeup. “Steve Harrington, I think I’m in love with you.”

That made Steve’s heart swell. Because he felt the same way about you.

Steve drove the two of you to the park, where you found a spot next to a large tree. He laid out the blanket and sat down the picnic basket he’d packed full of all kinds of foods. You ate together, laughing and joking and having the best time. But you couldn’t shake the buzzing excitement in your belly from the news of the concert.

It was a couple hour’s drive to the city, but it was worth it. The show was incredible, everything you dreamed seeing David Bowie would be. Steve held your hand, which sent electricity through both of your bodies.

When Steve brought you home, he walked you to your apartment door. Butterflies were flying in your stomach, still ecstatic from the most incredible date you ever could have imagined.

“I had a great time,” Steve said.

“Me too,” you agreed. “Truly. Do you…want to come in? The night doesn’t have to be over yet.”

A smile spread across Steve’s lips. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Steve followed you in. As you turned to him, you saw something behind his eyes. Like he was thinking, considering something. He lifted a hand and caressed the side of your face with the back of his hand, thinking he had never seen someone as beautiful in his life. “Can I kiss you?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “I…yes.”

Steve smiled lightly. Then he was leaning in, closer and closer, until his lips pressed to yours.

Sparks flew. You kissed him back eagerly, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush to his own. The kiss turned heated, Steve pressing your back up against the wall as he kissed you passionately. His hands began sliding up the skirt of your dress.

“Steve,” you said, breathless against his lips. “Take me to my room.”

The next morning, you woke up next to Steve. He had his arm around your waist, cuddling you close. You were both naked. As you awoke, Steve did, too, pulling you closer to him and nuzzling his face into your neck. “Don’t go,” he mumbled.

“I’m not,” you giggled. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve asked you to be his girlfriend that morning. It may have been a little soon, but you happily said yes. You knew Steve well, he was one of your best friends. You knew you wanted to be with him.

Robin was ecstatic when you told her the news. “About time!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms up. “Took you long enough, dingus.”

You knew you had to tell Eddie. As much as you dreaded it, he deserved to know as the father of your daughter. You waited a couple of weeks into the relationship, wanting to be sure things were going to work out before you brought it up. But your relationship with Steve was incredible, a kind of joy you never thought you could experience in a relationship.

Eddie came to the door to drop off Charlotte one Sunday evening. He was a little early, and Steve was over.

“Shit,” you hissed as he knocked at the door. “I guess it’s now or never.”

You answered the door, loving how Lottie’s face lit up at the sight of you. “Hi baby!”

“Mama!” She called, reaching for you. You took her from Eddie’s arms, sitting her on your hip. “Dada!” She exclaimed next, only she wasn’t looking at Eddie.

Steve had come up behind you, and Lottie was pointing at him. Your mouth dropped as Eddie’s face turned to one of pure anger. “What the fuck?” He said.

“I swear, I don’t know what that’s about. She’s never called him that before,” you explained quickly. Honestly Eddie deserved to have his feelings hurt, but you knew how destroyed you would be if Lottie called Chrissy Mama.

“What is he doing here anyway?” Eddie asked, gesturing towards Steve. “I don’t see Robin here. Do you have a life of your own, Harrington?”

You looked between Steve and Eddie. “Ed…me and Steve are…together.”

The words hit Eddie like a punch to the gut. He figured you would date eventually, but maybe he just got spoiled by you being single. He didn’t expect the pain of finding out you had moved on. And with Harrington? “What?”

You pursed your lips, knowing this had the potential to go badly. “We’re together. Steve is my boyfriend.”

Eddie just stared between the two of you. Then, he laughed, a sinister sounding chuckle. He knew he had no right to be pissed, but he was pissed. “Well, isn’t that just great.”

“Eddie-“

“No,” he said, holding a hand up. “You don’t owe me an explanation. You do whatever you want. Enjoy your life with Steve.”

And with that, he left. He didn’t even tell Charlotte goodbye.

Things with Steve were incredible. He was the best boyfriend you could ask for, and he was amazing with Lottie. She loved playing with him, and he could sit on the floor and play with her for hours without getting bored.

You had been together for a year and a half when he surprised you with a trip to the beach. You spent the weekend laying out in the sun, playing in the ocean, making love until the early morning in your suite.

On the last day there, you were walking down the beach hand in hand. As you were looking down at the sand for seashells, you noticed some writing in the sand. You let go of Steve’s hand to walk over and read it.

Will you marry me?

“Steve!” You exclaimed. “Look, someone proposed! How cute-“

You froze when you turned around to see Steve on one knee, holding a beautiful ring in a black velvet box. You gasped, tears immediately falling. You always were emotional.

“Will you make me the luckiest guy in the world and marry me?”

Eddie came home a little early from work one evening, and immediately knew something was wrong. He could feel it in the atmosphere before he even heard the noises. Those unmistakable noises.

He crept down the hallway, careful not to make any noise. Not that he thought he’d be noticed, anyway. Not with what he deeply suspected was going on.

He made it to the bedroom he shared with Chrissy. The door was slightly ajar, and he took a deep breath before pushing it open all the way.

Chrissy and her ex, Jason Carver, were in his bed, absolutely going at it. Eddie knew this was what was going on from the moment he walked into the apartment, but seeing it, he still felt like he’d be sick. Chrissy turned at the sound of the door opening and screamed, covering herself and Jason, who didn’t really seem to give a fuck at all.

After Jason left and Eddie was left alone with his girlfriend, he demanded the truth. She admitted she had been sleeping with Jason again for months.

Naturally, Eddie kicked her out. Then, he was alone.

Alone with only his thoughts, he had too much quiet time to think. And what he found himself thinking about was you. Far too often. He thought about your relationship, how he fucked everything up, including your lifelong friendship. Sure, he got his beautiful daughter out of it, but he could have treated you better. He should have treated you better.

He also thought about the way you’d treated him. The way you had loved him. How you were the only woman who had ever loved him, besides his mom all those years ago. How he had taken you for granted. He thought about how he would feel if some asshole treated Lottie the way he treated you. The thought itself made him furious.

Because now that Chrissy was gone and he was no longer blinded by his lifelong crush, he was realizing something:

Eddie loved you.

Not just as the mother of his child, or as a platonic friend, but love love. The kind he had been too blind to see back in high school, back during the days of your relationship.

He hated himself now. He had fucked up more than was even fathomable. He had thrown you away, for Chrissy. You were so much better than Chrissy in every way. Prettier, smarter, funnier, kinder. And you had treated him well.

Eddie dwelled on it for months. He grabbed his mail from the mailbox as he headed into his trailer one day, flipping through the various bills and junk mail - until he stopped at one with your name on it.

He dropped the other pieces of mail in his rush to open that one. He nearly ripped it in half getting it open, and as he pulled out the card inside, his blood ran cold.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Mr. and Mrs Harrington.

It was too late.

tags

@ali-r3n @crispystarfishhottub

[hitomisuzuya]

bully!yandere scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. cunnilingus. degradation. masochism. sexting (ish). blowjob. stalking. drugging/ use of marijuana and cigarettes. obsessive behavior from scara. mix of soft dom!scara and harsh!dom scara.

i was genuinely surprised how many people got excited for this🥺 i decided to split this into two parts cause it's really quite long.

you knew it was going to be a long afternoon the moment you left your dorm this morning. the moment scaramouche caught sight of you across campus. the last few months, scaramouche has been your bully.

"hey, nerd, you are a little late today," scaramouche bats your books out of your arms, "did you get lost on the way here?" the drink in your other hand was the next to go, batted out of your hand and landing face down on your books.

you stare down at the mess on the floor in front of you. you hate that there is a blush on your cheeks. you could do nothing but stare at the water bleeding onto your papers, swallowing your pounding heart in your throat.

scaramouche sighs, and flicks you in the forehead. "never mind," he pats you twice on your head, "i can see there is nothing going on up there. see you later, sucker. i don't have all day," he laughs at you, waving in passing.

"if you don't have all day, then what are you doing standing around picking on me?" you retort as you kneel to pick up your things. you simply pick up your things and head back to your dorm. you are pretty sure there was nothing major going on in your afternoon class.

you chose to hide away in your dorm for awhile. you flop down on your bed, turn on the tv and decide to see what your friend was up to. you met him online in the chat of a live streamer you both watch. later on through text, he told you could call him kuni and you've talked pretty much every day since.

'hey, what are you up to?'

back in his dorm, scaramouche had been waiting for your text. lately, you have been a lot more comfortable texting him. 'nothing much. i thought you are supposed to be in class this afternoon?' you have no idea it's him you have been talking to. you don't even know that it's someone at school.

it is a very good way for him to have you all to himself.

'nah, it's just a review today. i can safely skip. and this is going to sound so silly but...'

scaramouche eats it up when you trail off in your texts. that told him you are shy and flustered about something. he knows he has to be careful about how he words things when he talk to you. you might surely figure him out easily. 'what's up. is something on your mind?'

'don't laugh okay?'

'scout's honor. kinda seems like you have a lot on your mind. i don't mind listening, you know that,' you are quiet and shy, so he has to coax you little by little to get you to talk, but he likes to think he has gotten pretty good at it.

'actually, i do have a lot to say.'

scaramouche smirks, rolling the ball of his tongue piercing on the roof of his mouth. this was going to be good.

'well, he is selfish. arrogant. has no concept of personal space. he is academically lazy, but he is so so smart. all he does is poke, poke, poke. he never stops. i don't know why he picks on me, but i don't know how honest you want me to be about this?'

your praise about him being smart made his cock twitch. 'tell you what. i will put my down for two hours. not even look at it. you type to your heart's content and send the messages. when you are done, you can delete them. i won't even read them. sometimes, it helps to just get it off your chest and have that be that.'

of course he didn't do that. he kept his phone in his hand the whole time. honestly, he is completely unashamed about manipulating you like this. there is something rattling around in that pretty head of yours. there is no way he is going to pass this up. for extra encouragement, he texts, 'i'm putting my phone down now. just do your thing.'

back in your dorm, you couldn't help but smile a little. kuni really is a good friend. you feel nothing but secure talking to him about anything. so naturally, you just typed without thinking. he wasn't going to read it anyways, and you trust him. your fingers shook a little as you started typing.

'well, lately i am starting to enjoy when scaramouche bullies me. as wrong as it is to say, there is just something about that way he talks down to me. it just sounds so good. it's starting to make me really wet. that's why i had to skip class today.' not wanting the texts to be too long, you pressed send and started a new one, and just let yourself type.

'his arrogant confidence is infuriating, but at the same time, there is this commanding dominance in the tone of his voice. like all i could think about earlier was him bullying me down onto my knees, telling me it's okay to be a weak little slut and take his cock into my mouth like a good girl.'

"oh holy fuck, you little masochist," scaramouche whispers nearly dropping his phone reading your text. and you are typing still. he knew he couldn't say anything though, so he waits, his hand itching to reach down and stroke his cock.

'and i would gladly sink to my knees for him. i am blushing just thinking about it. i even want to play with myself, it's so hot to think about. it's making me really wet thinking about him degrading me while i choke on his cock. i want him to tell me it's okay to be weak. to not think and just focus on pleasing him because that's what i am ultimately good for. omg i am so sorry, please don't read this. thank you.'

scaramouche quickly took a screen shot before the messages disappeared. as much as he wants to find you and force you onto your knees exactly like you describe, he knew he wouldn't benefit him any. in fact, it would blow everything to hell. he reads your texts again, his hand fisting his hard cock, wishing the cum that spilled onto his hand was going into pretty your mouth instead.

over the next few weeks, scaramouche relentlessly bullied you, and you settle into something of a routine with kuni. once scaramouche was done with you, you would text kuni, spilling your racing thoughts into what you thought were blank text messages that you deleted unseen when are done.

'i can't thank you enough for always letting me do this, kuni. it's really helping a lot. if you ever need to vent in the same way, please do so. believe me, i can barely type these words. i didn't get much sleep last night. all i could think about was scaramouche tying me up, and degrading me for begging him to cum inside me while he fucks me senseless. i know i should stay away from him, but i can't help it.'

'he can never find out about this.'

you are effectively giving scaramouche all the tools he needs to corrupt you. you have no idea you are putting opportunities gift wrapped right into his lap. now, he could start sinking his claws into you.

you have no idea just how close he really is. there are only so many places you could go on campus. scaramouche knows your routine like the back of his hand. he has a few classes with you, and it's always easy for him to be in the right place, watching you while he bullshits with his friends.

usually, when you are out getting food or in between classes, you always text kuni, letting him know exactly what you are up to and where you are. you probably text kuni because being out around people makes you nervous.

'hey, kuni. i hope you have eaten today. i am grabbing some quick dinner right now. after, I'll probably go back to my room and watch tv or something.'

scaramouche looks right at you from across campus while you type. you are so painfully naive that it's adorable. you had no idea he's been following you the entire day, carefully blended in and unnoticed.

'hey, i just ate a little while ago. how was your day?' he texts back, immediately putting his phone in his pocket. you are defenseless and easy pickings right now. and he now knew you had nothing to do tonight. he is going to change that.

scaramouche waits until you get your food, and makes a beeline right for you as you leave the campus cafeteria. "so even nerds eat, i see," he trots up behind you, snatching your food out of your hand.

"will you please give that back? i didn't have breakfast earlier. i kind of..overslept," you reach for your food container, a blush dusting your cheeks as he holds your takeout box above his head.

"like i give a shit," he scoffs, watching your tits bounce as you jump to try reach for your container. smirking, he puts a hand on your chest and gently shoved you backwards. "what do nerds eat anyways?" he laughs, dancing away from you as he opens the container.

"what's it matter to you? you aren't eating it," you shyly try and reason with him while at the same time trying feebly to stand up for yourself. but you felt yourself getting weak in the knees like you always did. you could clock your body down to the minute it reacted it had become so routine for you.

"maybe i am hungry," scaramouche flips the lid closed, and walks away with your food. exactly like he thought, when he looks over his shoulder, he sees you coming after him. he revels in how much darker the blush on your cheeks got so fast.

"look, at least give me half if you want it that badly," you try several times to grab the container out of his hand, only for him to take it right out of your reach as he walks.

scaramouche laughs as he stops in front of his dorm. "nah, i don't share," he tosses your container into the trashcan next to his dorm room and opens the door. you wouldn't need that anyways. if he got his way, and he would, you wouldn't be leaving his dorm tonight. he can always get you something to eat later.

he is completely used to always getting what he wants.

you stare in disbelief at your food in the trash can. "i..i..why did you do that?" you swallow you pounding heart in your chest. it shouldn't feel this good to be bullied. you didn't think your cheeks could get any more red. the condescending tone he has sent a pleasant shiver right down to your clit.

sighing, scaramouche curls his fingers underneath your chin. "you should see the look on your face," he tilts your head up to look him. "yeah, that one right there," his hand caresses your cheek, his thumb lightly skimming across to your lower lip as you look at him.

"what do you mean?" it felt like a reflex for you to turn your cheek into his hand, the action happening before you knew it was. you long forgot about your food. the only thing you can do is focus on him. just looking up into his eyes flusters you.

"you look like you would get down on your knees and suck me off if i asked you to," it's infuriating how cute you look to him right now. your cheek was nuzzling slightly into his hand, much like a pet would.

clicking the ball of his tongue piercing on his teeth, scaramouche waits for your reaction. if you chose to walk away, he would let you. but he knew you wouldn't. whatever happens next is entirely up to you.

"what if i told you i would?" you shook a little as the words came tumbling out of your mouth. hearing his words reminds you of how wet you are. it took everything you had not to look away from him.

scaramouche froze for a moment, processing what you said. he honestly didn't expect you to be so straightforward. he thought he would have to bully it out of you. "c'mere," he takes his hand off your cheek, and grabs your wrist.

hastily, he pulls you into his dorm and shuts the door. "i'll bet you can't show me you are serious. weak nerds like you cave so easily," he scoffs, deciding to test you a little by putting his hand on your shoulder.

you shiver the moment he applies pressure, sinking to your knees if front of him. scaramouche's eyes widen for a moment as you look up at him. "i can prove it," you say, smiling softly at you nuzzle your cheek on his pelvis. "let me prove i can be a good girl for you." right now, in this moment, this is exactly where you want to be.

he grit his teeth looking down at you. "you know, you look adorable on your knees," he has spent so many nights with his hand fisting his cock, thinking about you in this exact position. looking up at him with utter adoration. fuck, it is making him hard.

you stay submissively quiet on your knees as he unbuttons his jeans. taking out his cock, he puts a hand on the back of your head. "open," he commands, tapping his index finger on his lips.

your eyes light up as you willingly open your mouth. his hand on the back of your head brings your mouth close to his leaking cock. he pokes the tip against your lips, smearing precum on them as he pushes it into your mouth.

your tongue flattens as you lick the slit, wrapping your hand around his cock. "fuck, i knew you were a weak slut," scaramouche hisses as your tongue glides wet on his cock head. his hand tightens in your hair, pushing your mouth onto his cock more, "be the good girl you promised you would be and suck."

you moan, opening your mouth to take his cock in. it pulses thick on your tongue as you suck. he groans as you gently grind the roof of your mouth on his cock. your clit throbs at his degradation, your panties clinging wetter between your legs.

he drinks in the look of adoration welling deeper in your eyes. it straight up makes him moan with pent up need. "that right, slut. keep sucking just like that," he holds your head in place, pumping his cock in and out of your mouth.

your pussy clenched hearing him degrade you so harshly. you muffle a moan on his cock, your sucks turning more eager as you stroke your fingers on the part that wasn't in your mouth. scaramouche rests his head against the wall, bobbing your mouth on his cock.

you rub your thighs together as drool pools out the corner of your mouth. you didn't need to think about anything other than pleasing him. your throat spasms around his cock as it suddenly hits the back of your throat.

"good girl, choking on my cock so well," he pushes hit into your throat again to feel the pure pleasure of it spasming pliable on his cock. you look so intoxicating right now, content to let him use your mouth to get off. the look in your eyes screams, please, enjoy me.

scaramouche has to bite back his whimper as his cock pulses in your mouth. "fuck, i am cumming," he mumbles as cum spurts warm and salty into your mouth. "swallow it all, whore," he groans, relaxing his hand on your hair and letting you suck him through his orgasm. his hand strokes through your hair until he pulls out of your mouth.

you obediently swallow, blushing as you saw a string of saliva connecting your tongue with his cock. sighing, he puts his cock back in his pants. it's so fucking sweet how you are looking up at him for some sort of guidance as to what to do next.

you really would look so pretty all collared up for him like the perfect pet.

"have you ever smoked pot before?" he asks, walking to grab a joint off his nightstand. he knew exactly what your answer would be. as he sits down, he pats the bed in signal for you to come sit with him.

"no, i haven't," you get to your feet, shyly making your way over to sit on his bed, "but i have been curious," you thought he would send you on your way once he got what he wanted. your heart is skipping beats in your chest at the thought of staying with him.

scaramouche spends the next few hours, shotgunning hits into your mouth while you watch him play video games. with each hit, his tongue devours your mouth, his lips needy on yours. he doesn't stop until your eyes look glazed over and hazy, and you are lying relaxed next to him on your stomach.

admittedly, he couldn't say he have an interior motive. as much as he wants his precious to relax, getting you high would make you more pliable for him. after a few hours of some conversation and smoking another joint, scaramouche turns off his game and rolls you over onto your back.

without a word, he captures your lips in a rough kiss. it strokes his ego how it takes no time at all for you to start moaning softly into his mouth as he devours yours with his tongue. his kisses turn more possessive as he takes your clothes off, carelessly tossing them on the floor.

he chuckles seeing the blush on your cheeks as he spreads your legs and slots himself between them. "why do you look so shy, hm?" his tongue dips between your folds, "you were sucking my cock like an eager slut a couple hours ago. it's cute, really," smirking, he licks stripes up and down your pussy.

your hips rock up to grind your pussy on his mouth. the wagging of his tongue piercing on your throbbing clit makes whimper tinged moans bubble up in your throat.

you don't know how much time passes as scaramouche tongue fucks your pussy until you start whimpering and moaning uncontrollably, his hands possessive and bruising on your hips as your hips they buck into his mouth.

you'd sucked him off so well. he has to reward you by returning the favor. as much as he wants to sink his cock inside of your tight, wet cunt right now, he knows just his tongue fucking into your hole will have to do. a delicate thing like you had to be corrupted slowly or you might shatter way too fast.

you passed right out shortly after cumming hard on his tongue, whimpering and shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. he keeps you tucked under his blanket, curled up against his side with your head resting on his chest.

"hey, are you awake?" he asks softly, tapping his index finger on your head. you didn't even stir, and he wasn't surprised. this had been your first smoke pot, and he had gotten you quite high before eating you out.

"don't worry, winter break is coming. everything will be okay then," he whispers, stroking his hand through your hair. you'd looked so fragile and delicate standing in the food court earlier. overwhelmed and tired. that if someone clapped at you the wrong way you would break.

life is full of loud and scary things. things that would break you. he couldn't have that. when winter break comes in a few weeks, he would make everything okay. before he went to sleep, he read a text that you'd sent a few days ago:

'i think i am really in love with my bully.'

[whos-the-seme]

Shen Yuan is actually a cuddle bug. Had a ton of Luo Binghe body pillows back home not just for the merch reasons but because he needs something in his bed to squeeze when he's sleeping.

Since he started having weekly planning (boozing and bitching) sessions with Shang Qinghua, he sometimes accidentally sleeps over. After he's finished his paperwork and started on some of Qinghua's, sometimes the wine gets to him and he's just so sleepy. Or, sometimes, Shang Qinghua will let the other read some of the short stories he had written early on in his transmigration when fighting to not lose his mind. Shen Yuan would critique them, before harassing him to publish them anonymously.

("Oh, so you are capable of writing more than papapa trash."

"Aw, you like it?" "...it's good." 🙄)

But by the time he finished them, it would be so late, and it didn't make much sense to leave when a bed was right there. And Shang Qinghua had custom ordered goose feather pillows and blankets, which was so unlike his porcelain pillows, and Shang Qinghua himself is right there. Therefore. The man himself becomes his new object of comfort when asleep.

At first, Shang Qinghua used to just wave it off. Then he started to playfully complain and tease about how clingy Shen Yuan was in his sleep, and Shen Yuan would grumble and turn bright red and turn his back on him... only for them to wake up with Shen Yuan basically curled around the other like an octopus in the morning. And then it just became normal because, of course, they really only had each other, so like why not? It brought them both comfort and two people could totally cuddle platonically.

Before long, more than half the week, Shen Yuan was spending the night over, and some rare times, Shang Qinghua goes to the bamboo house. Shang Qinghua learns when to give up his piles of paperwork when his friend starts getting tired and to get more fucking rest himself. Otherwise, Shen Yuan will just walk in, curl up on his lap with his head resting on Shang Qinghua's shoulder, and fall asleep there.

("Really? I ordered those extra stuffed pillows for you, you know. Go to bed, I'll be done in a minute."

"Ugh, shut up, sleeping isn't the same when you're out here ordering new fighting posts for Bai Zhan Peak for the 5th time this month. I'll just wait here for you to finish."

"In my lap...? That's kinda gay--" 😏

"Qinghua."

"Shutting up and finishing the work." )

Those of An Ding Peak, being the peak that was basically the backbone of the entire sect and kept it running through sweat, blood, and some other bodily fluids, knew how to keep secrets from other peaks. You don't become a disciple there without knowing how to keep your mouth shut when outsiders are around. But between each other, whispers abound.

"I don't think Shen-shibo has left in two days," one disciple murmurs to another when they see Shen Qingqiu flouncing around yet again, ordering one of the disciples to bring some two small meals to their Shifu's rooms for a late dinner.

"Do you think they're... you know?" Another asks quietly after delivering some new contracts to their Shifu. The door to his bedroom had been slightly ajar, and through the cracks, green leaf-pattern outer robes were on the ground.

("I'm not sleeping in these, okay! You should have written in pajamas while you were busy adding in chocolate, and whatever else doesn't exist in Ancient China, to PIDW!" 😒

"Oh my god, just sleep in your inner robes, then! Better yet, borrow some of my clothes. But you're sure as fuck not sleeping naked on my silk sheets, bro!")

The disciples on Qing Jing Peak certainly notice when the bamboo hut isn't occupied for the night. At first, they just thought that their Shizun was extra silent in his house now, but once, Ming Fan had to go to Shizun for a small issue late in the evening, and he wasn't there. Nor was he there the next night, or the next. They're not sure where he is, or what he's doing, but he's always there in the morning, so they don't worry too much.

On the fourth night, Shizun was home, but Shang-shishu was also there. And... stayed there. The lights went out, and the disciples who were sent out to spy came back and reported that Shang-shishu had never left.

("He... is Shang-shishu still in there?"

"I think so. M-maybe he stayed in the extra bedroom?"

"..." 👀

"..." 👀)

The disciples eye each other and simultaneously agree to never let those outside the peak know about this. When crossing paths with A Ding disciples, there are discreet looks and nods of understanding, and they pass each other by with not a word.

(Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua?)

----

One bright and sunny morning, Liu Qingge slams his way into Shang Qinghua's office. He is followed by Mu Qingfang, and Yue Qingyuan, all needing to speak with Shang Qingqua to figure out Shen Qingqiu's whereabouts. He wasn't in his bamboo hut this morning, nor was he anywhere else that he typically frequented.

Mu Qingfang because it was time for his bimonthly check-up to ensure that his treatments with Liu Qingge were progressing as they should. Yue Qingyuan due to peak matters (though, technically, he could do it on his own, but if he got to see Xiao Jiu--). Liu Qingge because the beast that he had dropped on his doorstep yesterday afternoon had yet to be removed, which was odd. And also, he had ordered new fighting posts a week ago, and usually they would have been delivered by now, which was also odd.

Wei Qingwei and Qi Qingqi also follow along because they could smell drama. And also they were a tiny bit worried about their shixiong. Whenever he disappeared for too long, it was likely that he had gotten kidnapped or poisoned. Again.

Shang Qinghua scrambles out of his bed chambers with hastily thrown-on outer robes, blurry-eyed, screaming "Whoosit!?" He barely has time to open his mouth before he is instantly bombarded with several requests, most of them pertaining to the apparent missing peak lord. Liu Qingge also asks about his fighting posts, which Shang Qinghua pretends not to hear.

"We've not seen him in a few days," Mu Qingfang says to him over the noise, with an apologetic smile for waking up his overworked shixiong. "I know you two are somewhat friends, so if you see him soon, please tell him he really needs to come to Qian Cao for his next physical."

"Wait, who's missing? Ah, please don't touch that." The last part is directed at Qi Qingqi, who is combing through his shelves. "Shen Qingqiu is apparently missing, according to this bunch," Qi Qingqi says, smirking at him. She pokes the figurine he told her not to touch. Oh well, she'll realize why he told her not to touch it soon enough.

"Shen Qingqiu? What do you mean, he's--" Shang Qinghua instantly closes his mouth, hoping that no one heard that. "I-I mean, yeah, I'll let you guys know if he stops by! No problem, will absolutely send him your way--" "What was that?" Liu Qingge narrows his eyes at him. "You were about to say something. You know where he is. Tell me."

Shang Qinghua begins to sweat immediately. "Whaaat? No, you must have heard wrong. Seriously, I'll let you guys know if I catch him. Now, if you guys can be on your way--" He starts trying to herd people out.

Unbeknownst to him, his bedroom door cracks open and a figure, eyes barely open, shuffles out and heads towards him. Wei Qingwei, idling in the office, is the first to notice the person wearing another set of An Ding Blue outer robes over soft Qing Jing Green inner ones. His jaw drops.

"Qinghua?" A soft, sleepy voice murmurs in his ear, arms circling around his waist and a head laying on his shoulder from behind. "It's too early, come back to bed." A small yawn.

Shang Qinghua can feel himself freeze with a nervous smile on his face.

Shit.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Found | Platonic Yandere Demon Queen

Thinking about how society treats pregnant women. It’s a freshly new concept that pregnant women have autonomy and independence. More often than not when women are identified as pregnant there’s a trend of infantalizing. In a backward sense of thought a woman dealing with carrying life is reduced to a tired, stressed, and moody woman that must be appeased. Cravings demand she want pickles and ice cream. She’s got it! Don’t have this meal have this one, it’s better for your baby's health! Oh listen to Fur Elise it’ll calm you and make your baby smart! Tantrum at 3 in the morning? Don’t pay her any mind. 

Not all of the people caring for pregnant women do this negatively. Many times the concern of friends and family can ease the entire process. What’s more not all of the typically overreaching behaviors are unfounded, during a pregnancy there’s so much happening with the body the brain can be especially fragile. 

All that being said when the Demon Queen announced to her generals that she was expecting, immediately her subordinates silently moved to support their Queen on a much….deeper level. 

“My Queen I have some unfortunate news.”

“Speak General Mordecai.”

“The….raspberry jam reserves are no more.”

“I see…then break out the grape. It’s not my favorite but it’ll be due until we can get a new shipment.”

“That’s the thing….there are no grape jams left either.”

“…AAAAAAAGGHGHGH”

It’s a small dangerous line her generals tread on. Between receiving demands for jams to attacking the human kingdoms it’s left many exhausted. But there’s hope as the 10th month of her pregnancy concludes. Her army and its leaders will be assured further tantrums that result in heads being cut off will only be because she is dissatisfied with their work rather than her paranoia about her changing shape. 

But alas nothing is ever easy in the demon army, when the emergency messenger wyverns fly to the top-ranked generals with grave news. 

“The Queen’s child is….dead?!”

Children are a gift….miracles that can last as long as the tallest tree or end in a second faster than you can blink. Unfortunately, the Queen’s miracle was exactly an hour which meant a month of devastation for everyone. Of course, a mother’s grief is immeasurable and tragic but a the Demon Queen was a mother is even worse. Every day her generals stomached the thick and violent aura that oozed from their leader for meters long. Even the humans felt it; their crops drooping as if sharing her sorrow. Other forms of magic degraded at the glum influence her power held. 

In a moment of respite, the highest Demon General and the Exalted Hero came together. 

“This can’t go on….the magic this world has is sure to dissipate with this much despair.”

“I…agree…but grief isn’t something to be done away with, so simply.”

“I do have…one idea.”

“I don’t trust your judgment, Hero.”

“Sometimes neither do I, but I wouldn’t be the hero if I didn’t try!”

“.....Your optimism is nauseating. After this, I’m going to intensify my efforts to smite you.”

“Wow, thanks.”

The Exalted Hero’s glorious plan could only be enacted by the Demon Queen’s highest-ranking general. Strong enough to withstand the toxic magic-draining aura she exuded with little trouble. Her pride long out of reach as she rotted in the opulent and soft expanse of what would have been her nest.

“My Queen, would you like to overthrow the village on the outskirts of town? It’s been long since we’ve terrified the humans you and I.”

“...YoU DArE IntErRuPT mY BrOodING!?”

After sustaining some minor injuries a broken horn he stood by her side as she annihilated the entirety of the outer village of humans, sending a pillar of purple fire. Of course, only a few foolish humans attempt to intervene before she quickly snaps her fingers and their heads go flying. The humans are so full of non-magic that they are unburdened by her presence and she finds little enjoyment in making them writhe before dying. Her first officer knows this has done nothing but stave her boredom as the few who remain scream in agony or attempt to run. Without calling attention he steps away, picking a random home currently on fire. He steps inside hardly caring for the gaggle of gasping humans crawling helplessly around. It isn’t until he sees the singed doll on the ground does he fully inspect the home. Going deeper within as he hoped he finds precisely what he’s looking for.

When he returns to the Queen’s side, the boredom on her face hasn’t changed and he’s sure in a moment he’ll be ordered to level the town but first–

“Mordecai you can begin the—”

“WAHHH!”

The cry of an infant has the Queen sprinting, breaking the sound barrier to the burning house. On the doorstep is a naked babe, face contorted as they cry something fierce. Dismissing the nearly charcoal human reaching out the Demon Queen picks the baby up, cradling them into her chest.

“You poor poor dear, what Mother would leave you unattended during such a tragedy?”

The crying calms as she rocks the baby, waiting for its grabby hands pulling at her enchanted armor just like her own child did for the hour she knew her. Barely feeling the clasp of burnt fingers wrapping around her ankle she shakes her boots and steps on the weed pulling at her.

“Mordecai I leave this mud heap to you. Leave no trace.”

“Yes, my Queen.”

“Oh and announce to the armies that my child has been found.”

The Queen’s teleportation and the dissipating fog of her magic-draining cloud made the general smile. Far away the Hero has to refuse the help of the orphanages, they so gallantly encouraged. While the general hated the hero with all his being, the plan was diabolically perfect. What grieving mother would resist an orphaned crying babe? This mother just so happened to be the Queen of Demons with despair deep enough to cripple the entire living world—and now she was happy again.

“All of my demons, behold! The heir to the New World!”

“RAAAAAAHHH!”

Lucky you. The human baby of the feared Demon Queen set to inherit the world their mother was set to conquer. Surely their only real obstacles will be navigating the demon hierarchy and even that will be limited. For now, the Demon Queen has a child and absolutely no one will threaten the happiness of her darling baby.

More? Who am I kidding I'm definitely writing more of this 🖤🖤🖤🖤

[formula-ghost]

Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Even though you agreed to forgive Oscar, you realize quickly that nothing can go back to how it was before, and some old flames never die.

WORD COUNT: 10.1k

WARNINGS: Lando is very mean to reader behind her back, also reader is lowkey so dumb and frustrating but that's intentional.

TAGLIST: @at-a-rax-ia  @henna006 @linnygirl09 @cassielikereading @judelina @supertrashbread @fastandcurious16 @widow-cevans @czennieszn @irisesinthegarden @wierdflowerpower @sweetwh0re @reginalaufeyson-holmes @honethatty12 @suns3treading @obxstiles @mimiastroos @mrs-reeves-17 @milkysoop @amalialeclerc @starksztony @llando4norris @ginsengi @angxlzinthesky @makanirock05 @htpssgavi @lilypat @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @ameliaalvarez06

A/N: A few things: (1) This one is for Billie. The Grammys did her DIRTY. (2) I realized I have horrifically messed up the pacing since real F1 races are so close together so we’re gonna pretend like there are a few weeks in between Imola and Monaco because this is my fanfic and I make the rules. (3) If this is bad I’m sorry, my life is a mess right now and I’m so sorry it took me so long to get this out to you guys! (4) I went back and found a few people that accidently got left out of the taglist, my bad! I’ve linked the previous chapters below so you can catch up (5) As always, I hope you all enjoy :)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

From your balcony, you sighed in contentment as you heard the gentle lapping of waves from the endless expanse of water that stretched out before you. There were yachts teeming with giggling models, the chattering of French spoken on the streets below, the buzz of such a city of opulence. It was music to your ears. 

The view of Monaco was one you never thought you’d get tired of. The place, though so new, also felt so much like home to you. The streets were paved with hope and memory, the water brimming with joy yet to be.

All of it was yours. Because of Oscar.

Yet again, his name came to your mind to taunt you. 

Maybe taunt was too strong of a word. You weren’t quite sure. You weren’t sure of much of anything, anymore.

Your interactions with your friend had been…awkward, to say the least. You had made a vow to yourself to forgive him, but he seemed…a little too excited to be forgiven, if that made any sense. He wanted to go back to the way that things had been before all of this, but how was that possible?

You had explored every inch of each other’s bodies. You had held each other in the heat of passion. How are you supposed to act as if none of that ever happened?

His words echoed in your brain. I can’t be the boyfriend you deserve. Not right now, at least. 

You had never even asked Oscar to be official. The thought was too far-fetched. I just want my friend back in my life. Like all of that never happened.

Well, at least one of you got what you wanted.

But then again, you truly didn’t know what you wanted from him anymore. To Oscar’s credit, you weren’t exactly making it easy to get back in your good graces.  

The one thing you had been sure you wanted was more independence. No more living in an apartment that Oscar owned, or letting him jetset you across the world to his races and paying for all your expensive dinners.

No, it was time to be your own woman. That meant leaving Monaco.

So you took advantage of every morning you still had in this city that you’d grown to love, knowing that soon, you’d have to leave.

“You don’t have to go.”

Oscar’s voice floated into your ears. He had practically moved in; he was trying to sell his larger apartment, and the place was constantly swarming with real estate agents and potential buyers. Even if it wasn’t so hectic, he hated being there alone, and you refused to go back there with him. Not after the confrontation with Lily back in Imola.

“You don’t have to leave,” he repeated. “I know you’re thinking about it.”

Sometimes it felt like Oscar could read your mind.

“Yes I do,” you responded, sipping your tea, not shifting your gaze from the water. 

“I can just give you the apartment, if you’re worried about it being in your name. I can pay the gift tax too.”

“No,” you whispered. 

“I have more money that I’d ever know what to do with, YN—”

“I don’t,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “So I can’t stay here.”

Oscar knew his arguments were all in vain. You were nothing if not stubborn.

“I need you here,” he said.

“I’ll be just across the border.” It was more than likely; you could probably get a decent apartment in Nice within your budget.

“And what about at my races?”

“I’ll always come to Monaco.” You were also contemplating quitting your job; you hadn’t said it aloud yet, but Oscar knew. You were just waiting until you found something stable to quit. It was only a matter of time.

He was already pushing his luck. You walked past him back into the apartment and the Aussie sighed. 

He didn’t have long to fix all that he had fucked up. 

Especially considering your newfound friendship with Lando, although you had done your best to keep that hidden. Something about it felt…wrong. Like a betrayal. 

Morning pretty girl, read the message from the Brit on your phone. You smiled but rolled your eyes. Lando’s playful flirting and banter was comical to you. Of course, it meant nothing. Lando wasn’t your type, and you weren’t his. 

You shot him back a good morning text of your own, before setting your phone down in the living room to clean up your breakfast. Your phone buzzed again, and Oscar grabbed it.

“You got a message from…Lando?”

“Put my phone down, Oscar.”

“Why are you texting Lando?” 

“Am I not allowed to have friends?”

You walked back into the living room, where Oscar handed you your phone. You plopped down on the couch, opening the device to see what he had texted you. 

You up for a coffee later today? There’s a new cafe I’ve been wanting to try.

You texted back quickly, affirming that you’d be there. 

“What did he want?”

“Oscar, seriously? I’m grown.”

“I’m just curious.”

“He just wanted to get coffee later today.”   

“He asked you on a date?” His face was red with impending anger.

“It’s not a date. It’s coffee. Amongst friends and coworkers, which we are. You weren’t this worried when you all left me with him in Italy,” you said, staring into the stitches on the decorative pillows on your couch.

“Things were different then.” 

His words were dripping with some unrecognizable emotion—regret, maybe, or sadness. You couldn’t be sure. But it startled you.

So you ignored it, instead grabbing your laptop and headphones before sitting at your kitchen table. “I have to get this stuff done,” you said, and Oscar just nodded. 

He had his own work to take care of. 

Later that afternoon, as you wrapped up your work and got ready to meet Lando at the cafe, you were already feeling Oscar’s absence throughout your small apartment.

It was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place; you wanted to stay in Monaco, to stay by Oscar’s side, for everything to stay the way that they had always been. But you knew that you just couldn’t.

“Why?” Lando asked, sipping on some fancy tea ordered from the admittedly adorable cafe in a hidden corner of Monte Carlo. Despite your better judgements, you had confided in him about your anxieties regarding the future. “Why would you need to leave so badly? I don’t get it. Just let him pay for all your shit. It’s the least he can do.”

“No, I’ve relied on him for too long,” you answered. “I just need to be more of myself. We’ve always been so…intertwined.”

“I know you two are close.”

“No, it’s more than that. It’s like…our lives are just, I don’t know, connected? Like I didn’t know where my story ended and his began. It’s hard to explain.”

“You must be heartbroken.”

You raised a brow. That wasn’t quite the word you’d use. “What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, to have all of this happen. You must miss him a lot.” 

“Oh, well, he practically lives with me,” you laughed. “This all started because we got into it before Miami, but we’ve made up now. It’s just hard having to navigate all the logistics.” 

“Oh,” he replied, his voice tinged with a snark that you weren’t quite sure what to make of. He raised his eyebrows and took another sip of his tea.

“What?” you asked. 

“Well, it’s just…I mean, that was quick.” He wouldn’t meet your gaze. “Back in Imola, you seemed pretty pissed at him.” 

“I was. But,” you paused, swirling a small spoon around your own drink, “That crash was bad. Things like it just put everything in perspective, you know?”

“So everything’s fine between the two of you now, because he hit a wall?” Lando chuckled, sarcasm dripping from every word.

You looked up, your brows furrowed in confusion. “Really?”

“I just think you deserve better. You shouldn’t have to beg someone to love you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek before replying, “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but that’s not what’s happening at all.”

“It isn’t?”

“Who told you any of this?” you asked. 

You didn’t know that Oscar had told him everything, that drunken night after Miami. And what you didn’t know, Lando decided, couldn’t hurt you. He liked having the upper hand, dropping little hints that his knowledge was far beyond what anyone thought. “Why does that matter? It’s obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes.”

“Just like it was so obvious that Oscar was cheating on me with Lily?”  You looked back down to the now cold contents of your cup.

Lando was silent for a minute. “Things don’t have to be like this, YN.”

“It’s funny, cause that’s exactly what Oscar told me.”

“Why do you let him get away with all this shit?”

“Do you really think I just welcomed him back into my life like nothing happened? Forgiveness isn’t that simple. Just because we’re not screaming at each other doesn’t mean that everything is fine. It’s… complicated.”

“I’m sure it is. But can I ask you a question?”

You just tilted your head in response, mentally preparing for whatever curveball he’d throw you next. You liked the banter with Lando; it was challenging, like a back and forth dance, or a chess game.

Lando leaned in close, lowering his voice. “You said Oscar practically moved in with you. Where does he sleep at night?”

You laughed at the implication. “I’m not sleeping with him anymore.” 

“Anymore?” he asked.

You paused, your smile fading. Lando’s smile spread ear to ear. 

You had lost the game, finally revealing the truth without even intending to. 

“You’re good, Norris,” you said, swirling your spoon around the cup just to give your hands something to do. “Too good. You know, Oscar’s not too fond of me being here.”

“I’m sure he’s not,” Lando replied. “I’m sure he tells you all sorts of horrible things about me.”

“Are they true?” you asked, though Oscar had told you nothing of the sort. His hesitations came off more as paranoid ramblings rather than juicy gossip or evidence-based skepticism. 

Lando leaned in and smirked at you. “Why don’t you roll over in bed tonight and ask him?”

Your phone buzzed as you fumbled in your bag for your keys outside your front door. You spotted the lanyard, and held your phone in one hand as you closed your bag in the other.

It was really nice to see you today. I’d like to do it again. 

You let out a half laugh, half exhale. Lando was… fun. Dangerous, in a way. He had a mysterious air about him that surprised you, and it was intoxicating. 

You knew you needed to be more careful about what you let slip. He seemed to know every detail, all coming from some phantom source you couldn’t trace. Being a social media manager, you were acutely aware of how easily words could get misconstrued and livelihoods could be destroyed. 

But so was Lando, and after all, it wasn’t like he was a stranger to controversy.

You unlocked the door to your apartment and locked your phone. You’d get to that text later. For now, you had a seemingly endless mountain of work—domestic and professional—to tackle.

But as you set down your bag, you heard the familiar sound of your kitchen sink running.

Oscar was…doing dishes?

You made your way into the kitchen and stood in the entryway. “You didn’t have to do that,” you said. “I was just about to take care of it.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. 

“You should be, like, training or something, not doing my dishes.” You smiled. He didn’t.

“How’d your afternoon with Lando go?” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the sink, facing you. His expression was unreadable.

Truthfully? Odd. Exhilarating. Anxiety-inducing. But you couldn’t say that to Oscar now. 

And as you saw his imposing form, even sloped away from you, the words that the Brit had planted in your head echoed. 

The more time you spent with Lando, the more tense you were with Oscar. You recognized that. 

“It was fine,” you said. You guessed that was the right word to use, at least.

Oscar hung his head low, studying the floor. He was nervous. “Can I tell you something, friend to friend?”

“What?”

“I don’t really like you spending time with Lando.”

You just looked at him, stopped in your tracks by his audacity. “Are you serious?”

“You know he’s up to nothing good, right? Conveniently hitting you up when we’re fighting for the championship, and then he ran brake checked me into the fucking wall in Imola—”

“Oh my God, you are serious.”

“I don’t know what he’s told you, but you can’t trust him.”

“Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds coming from you?”

“YN, just hear me out—”

“Now now, Oscar,” you said, grabbing your headphones and laptop and walking out onto your balcony.  

You took a deep breath before slipping your headphones on and trudging through the work.

You closed the laptop as the sun began to set over Monaco. Oscar walked out onto the patio and sat next to you. 

“I’m going to say this once,” he said. “Please just listen to me, YN. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” 

“I know,” he said. “But I know a liar when I see one. He doesn’t love you, YN. He’s just using you.” 

You were digging your nails into your palm. 

“I don't know what his game is, but we’re all just pawns in it,” he said, his tone more frantic.

“I need to go to bed,” you said. ‘I have to be up early,” you walked past him into the apartment, but he grabbed you by the sleeve.

“YN, listen to me!”

You turned around to face him, your anger now fully unleashed. “Has it ever occurred to you that someone might just like me for me? Can you even imagine a man loving me for more than my body? He’s never even tried to get in my pants.”

“I see the way he looks at you.”

“And so what if he does?”

“He’s trying to drive a wedge between us.”

“You’re the only one driving a wedge between us, Oscar.”

“YN, I’m just saying this because I’m worried about you! You shouldn’t trust him.”

“And I should trust you instead?”

Oscar paused. “YN, I love you and—”

“Stop. Just…stop. I actually do have to go to bed.” You wiped your eyes, swatting away the faintest trace of tears that had come up. “I have to go look at an apartment tomorrow.”

Oscar bit his lip and huffed. “I thought you had forgiven me, YN.”

“I have.”

No. At the hospital, in Imola. I asked you to forgive me so we could be friends again and you said yes. Then you go and start flirting with my teammate and saying you're going to leave Monaco. I don't understand why you’re still so mad at me. I don’t know what to do.”

“Oscar, none of this is about you!” you exclaimed. “I mean, it is, but this isn’t some petty act of revenge. This is about the fact that I need my own life.”

“I used to be part of your life.”

“You used to be my entire life,” you said, and laughed. “Shit, you still are. You don’t get it.”

“I guess I don’t.”

You both paused, soaking in the tension of the scene.

“And you didn’t ask for my forgiveness,” you said. “You asked to act like none of this ever happened. I can’t do that. We…crossed a line. Things are different now.”

The tiniest part of you wanted to hop back on the other side of that line and drag Oscar into your bedroom right now. You craved the feeling of him stretching you, your hands clawing up his back or burying themselves in his hair as he buried his tongue— 

“You said never again,” he whispered. “But we both still feel the same, don’t we?” 

“I really need to go to bed.”

That night, Oscar took the couch. It didn’t matter. You couldn’t sleep. 

As you tossed and turned, you considered Oscar’s word against Lando’s, Lando’s against Oscar’s. 

Lando had said you shouldn’t forgive Oscar. And to his credit, Oscar was making that very difficult. But had you not given your best friend your word?

And what Oscar had said about Lando; he wasn’t trustworthy, he was just using you as a pawn. You hated to admit it, but it was probably true. Hell, Lando would never go for a girl like you. But the back and forth of your banter brought you a thrill you hadn’t felt in months. 

Shit, you had never texted him back. Did you really want to see him again?

You didn’t know how long this charade could go on, until Lando got whatever it is that he really wanted. But Oscar’s words still burned you with fury. 

I’d love to. 

You rode the train to Nice like a zombie, traversing the shitty apartment with lead feet, yawning the entire time. You weren’t missing much. 

Your phone buzzed with a text from Oscar, and you read it on the train ride back. 

I’m sorry for last night.

It’s fine, you replied.

Almost instantly, another message. No, it’s not. I should have just minded my own business. 

You were too exhausted to think of a reply, needing all your energy to make it from the train station back to your apartment in Monaco unscathed and collapse on the bed. 

“How was the apartment?” Oscar asked from the bathroom, preoccupied with his shaving. 

“Shitty,” you mumbled, face into the pillow. 

Oscar looked over. “Sleep badly last night?”

“You don’t even know,” you huffed. “Wait, where are you going?” 

“Buyer,” he said simply, sparing your exhausted brain the boring details of real estate management. 

You made some unintelligible noise in response. “Get some rest,” he said. “I’ll wake you up when I’m back, yeah?”

You handed him a thumbs up as you pulled the covers over you and fell asleep within minutes. 

Oscar would have given anything to be back in that bed, curled up next to you. Instead, he was inside his old, empty apartment, with Lily. 

It had been in her name too, after all. She had to be there for the sale, though neither were too happy to see each other. They looked over documents wordlessly, shuffling the papers back and forth between them, just anxious to get it over with. 

As the lawyers and real estate agents packed up their belongings, Lily sighed, clearly unamused. “It's a bit ridiculous that I had to fly all the way to Monaco for that, no?” 

“Yeah, sorry,” Oscar said, doing his best to make idle conversation. “So, how are things at work?”

“Fine,” she replied, her lips pursed. “How’s the season going?”

“You haven’t been watching?” he asked. 

“I’m busy on Sundays.”

“Ah.” The tension was thick. “It’s been okay.” 

Lily bit the inside of her cheek, determining how far she wanted to take her next move. “How’s YN?”

“Fine,” he replied, too quick and sharp to be genuine.

“That’s not what I heard,” she said. “I heard you made a move on her days after we broke up, and she dumped you because she felt so bad about it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Oscar said, a reflex more than a conscious choice to lie.

“Yes you do,” she replied. “And honestly, you all deserve each other.” Her words dripped with venom.

“Why do you care?” Oscar replied, his polite exterior broken by the confrontation. “Isn’t that exactly why you left? But now you’re mad because I actually did it.”

“I thought you were better than that. I wish you could have proven me wrong,” she said. “Oh my God, I was so stupid. Lando was right,” she said, bringing her palm to her forehead and fixing her gaze on the floor. 

“Wh— Lando?”

“Why do you think I finally got the nerve to tell you how I felt? Lando knew you were cheating. And I don’t care what you or her say, I don’t believe you anymore. There’s no way you just…crawled into her bed 4 days after I left you. You had to have been cheating.”

“Lily, I never cheated on you. Why would Lando tell you that?” 

“Because it was happening right in front of my eyes! And for so long I just ignored it and pushed it all down.” Her eyes were prickling up with tears, the effect of the emotion being so fresh in the presence of her now ex-lover. “I just told myself that you all were friends. It was normal for your boyfriend to look at his best friend like that. Oh, yes, it’s so normal for your boyfriend to bring his girl best friend on every vacation, every night out, every trip home! I can’t believe that your fucking teammate had to be the one to open my eyes.” 

“Lily,” Oscar repeated, “I never, never, cheated on you. Yes, I was a horrible boyfriend. And yes,” he paused and sighed before continuing, ‘YN and I… it’s complicated. But never before you left. I don’t know what the hell Lando is telling you but it’s a lie.”

“You’re the only liar. You and YN. She acts like she’s so honest, but I know. You had to have been cheating. You all wanted each other for years.”

“Lily—”

“Don’t, Oscar,” she said, wiping her eyes. “It doesn’t really matter anymore. What’s done is done. I just hope you two are happy.” Lily grabbed her purse off the kitchen counter and swiftly left the apartment, leaving behind only the soft clicking of her heels against the tile of the hallway, and the echo of what once was, reverberating around the apartment before slowly fading into the quiet of the afternoon. 

Back at your place, Oscar entered quietly, careful not to wake you. All he wanted was to sleep.

He slowly took off his shoes and jacket, sinking into the bed next to you. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep; his mind was racing, his nervous system wired. But he wanted to rest, to feel the warmth and weight of your sleeping body next to his own. For just a moment, the world could stop, and he would feel okay again. 

But it couldn’t be. You had always been a light sleeper. The mere sound of his opening and closing the front door had caused you to stir. The feeling of his weight down on the bed led you to rise, stretching your arms about your head before rubbing your eyes.

Oscar couldn’t help it; his eyes glanced to the exposed skin of your stomach from where your shirt rode up when he stretched. You had said no more sex, and he respected that. But it didn’t mean that he wanted you any less. 

“What time is it?” you mumbled. 

“Almost five,” he answered.

“Oh, shit,” you said. You hadn’t expected to sleep this long. You looked over to Oscar, who was hiding his face in his hands. “You can have the bed, I’ll go make food.”

You swung your legs over the bed, but Oscar reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Stay,” he said. “Please.”

That woke you up quick. Oscar could feel the blood pulse through your veins as he held your wrist, a whispered plea for comfort.

“Osc…”

“Lily was there. At the apartment.”

“I don’t think—”

“She said…God, YN, I feel like I’m going fucking crazy.”

“Let go of my arm, please.”

Oscar awkwardly let you go, not realizing that he had essentially kept you pinned to the spot. You wordless rose and left the room for the kitchen.

As you stirred the pot of food to a simmer, you watched the little bubbles rise to the top, like the little kernels of emotion that ran through you. If it were up to you, you’d close the lid on them and leave them forever. But then the house could burn down.

What an apt metaphor.

But truly, you knew you were trying to outrun something, a force so strong you couldn’t ignore it. 

Love, lust, desire? It couldn’t be named. Unfortunately, it followed you around the apartment. 

“How are we friends if we can’t even talk?” Oscar said, having followed you to the kitchen, now standing in the doorway. What he was doing was a bit unfair, cornering you here when you couldn’t really leave. But what else could he do?

“You can talk to me,” you said. “Just not in my bed.”

You refused to look at the Aussie, instead putting all your focus into chopping the vegetables, drowning out his words in the sharp sounds of the knife tearing through the onion and shallots.

“Lily was there. She told me that Lando told her that I cheated on her with you.”

You snorted. “What are we, back in middle school? He said, she said?”

“Well, considering she left me over it, I don’t find it very funny.”

“Oscar, you never cheated. Everyone knows that.” 

“Lando is—”

“Who cares what Lando says?” You used the flat blade of the knife to swipe the chopped vegetables off the cutting board and into the pot.  

“I care!”

“Do you blame him for thinking we were hooking up?”

“I blame him for putting thoughts in my girlfriend’s head that weren’t true.” 

You put the knife on the counter with a thud. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Oscar paused, mentally cursing himself for the slip of words. “I’m just saying, he’s going around saying things without any regard to what damage they may cause.”

“You sound paranoid,” you said, grinding salt and pepper into the mixture. 

“I just…” Oscar grasped for the right words, careful to not let his frustration take over, “I would just really appreciate it if you don’t tell him anything. Because he already took her from me.” 

You put the lid back on the pot and turned the heat down. “The male audacity never ceases to amaze me.”

“What?”

“Oscar, she didn’t leave you because Lando was poisoning her thoughts, or whatever. She left because she was unhappy.”

“She left because she felt threatened by you. Because of what Lando said.”

You finally turned around to face him, your cheeks now red with frustration. “It only took you four days to prove her right! This isn’t about Lando. This is about the fact that you still can’t accept what you did. With her or with me.”

“You wanted it, too,” he responded, his voice now low and husky. “And you still want it. Deep down, you know it.”

You swallowed, suddenly noticing how his arms filled out the sleeves of his shirt just right, and how the blood rushed to his cheeks while he was angry, painting his face a delightful shade of blush. 

“That’s irrelevant.” 

“If I’m guilty, then so are you. Because you imagined every second of it.”

“Not like this,” you whispered. “And you did too.”

He stepped forward, closing the gap between you two. “Stop talking to Lando.”

Your voice rose to a normal level, relieved by the changed tension. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

God, how badly you wanted him to push you up against the wall and take you right then and there. No, you couldn’t. But he was right.

You had wanted this. You were guilty.

It was eating you alive. 

The Monaco Grand Prix. The epitome of glitz and glamor, wealth and class, speed and history. It was everything that you and Oscar loved about the sport of Formula 1, right from the comfort of  your backyard.

Well, not for much longer. But that was a thought you were trying to avoid. 

You had looked at a couple more apartments in your budget, only to be disappointed by all of them. Of course, nothing could beat the picturesque view you had right outside your living room every morning. 

If it were up to you, you would have watched the race from your balcony, but duty called. You put on your best face of professionalism for the weekend.

It turns out, going back to being “just friends” was a paradox. You couldn’t; not after the unhealed wounds, the ghost of phantom touches and unforgettable nights that still haunted both of you. 

But even when you pretended, you couldn’t deny the sexual tension that underlied every interaction. 

You had almost forgotten that feeling; it lingered after your first encounter with Oscar, where you had taken each other’s virginity, but it had been different then. Only a few days and a handful of awkward texts before things just went back to normal. He went back to the UK, you went back to school, he met Lily, and the rest was history.

But now, it was inescapable, breaking into every crack and crevice of the apartment, in every breath between you two that held a second too long of eye contact.

It was torture. At least professionalism was somewhat of a reprieve. 

You raised your camera up to take a shot of Oscar walking out of the McLaren garage, thankful to be able to hide behind your lens. Through it, you could see the strained outline of his muscles underneath his fireproof shirt. His hair was glistening with sweat, and his chest heaved, letting out a frustrated sigh at the results of quali.

“Care to get a picture of the pole sitter, YN?” you heard behind you, and turned to see Lando’s cheeky grin as he shook his hair. His discarded balaclava was in one hand, and he ran his other through his loose curls, balancing his helmet on his hip.

You let out a small huff of a laugh and snapped a quick picture. 

“Let me see,” he said, walking next to you. You held up the small screen for him to see.

“Wow, you make me look good,” he teased.

“Oh no,” you bantered back, “that’s the magic of editing.”

“No way. The only Oscar can look that good on Instagram is because you’re behind the camera.”

You laughed out of reflex at the crude joke. “Actually,” you said, “most pics I take don’t make it to social media.” Lando raised an eyebrow. You continued, “Yeah, most of what we post is from the actual photographers. Leave the beautification to the professionals.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Well, I just like to take pictures, but I’m not very good at it. Most of my actual work is all the boring stuff with the merch.”

Lando’s grin returned. “So all those pictures you took of me at Imola, was that just because you wanted to look at my face, huh?”

“I’d need more than just photoshop to make you look pretty, Norris.” You both knew the joke was false. Lando was perfect—tanned skin, chiseled body, brown coils catching the sunlight and caused golden highlights to cascade through his locks. You couldn’t deny that Lando Norris was fucking hot.

“Ouch! And here I thought you liked me,” he joked. “Considering I’m taking you out to dinner, and all.”

You looked over your shoulder, checking for any other McLaren drivers who may be listening. But Oscar was far out of sight. 

“Just a little friendly meal between colleagues,” you said, a tense smile coming to your face.

“Keep telling yourself that, love,” he said, before being called over to the media tent. 

You gave him another smile as he walked off, but truthfully, you weren’t exactly excited. You weren’t quite sure what to make of Lando, especially given Oscar’s reservations. Getting this close to him, especially in public, was…dangerous. 

You felt that familiar knot of anxiety in your stomach. Maybe Oscar was right.

But Lando turned around and flashed you his award winning smile and a wink, and you giggled out of reflex. Maybe Oscar’s paranoia was wearing off on you. 

It didn’t matter now. You had a job to do. 

Which was very hard to do, considering that no one could find Oscar after he left the media pen. 

Unbeknownst to you, Oscar was back in his driver’s room, doing anything he could to avoid losing his mind.

Quali had gone horribly. At a track like Monaco, where overtaking was so scarce, he had essentially sighed away potential points. And to make it all worse, Lando had gotten pole, and to celebrate, he had stood in front of Oscar’s own garage, chatting you up without a care in the world.

Oscar couldn’t even bear to see it. He had trudged off to the media pen, quickly gave his statement, then booked it to the room to be alone for a while.

But it felt like he was going crazy. He couldn’t relax, his leg bouncing up and down at a fervent pace, his breaths strained. Was he having a panic attack? This must be close to it.

But no, it wasn’t panic. It was anger. He felt like a cringy teenager, wanting to punch a wall, ro drive a car way too fast (as if he didn’t already do that for a living), or… no. He couldn’t go there. He couldn’t indulge his most unhealthy coping mechanism. Not now.

But he felt all the blood rush down south at even the mere thought of the last time he had you in his driver’s room. 

No. No, no, he said to himself again and again. You had said no sex. He didn’t want you to feel used. But just the memory of your mouth on him, the curves of your body underneath his own, was enough to rile him up.

There were too many people outside. He could hear their voices outside the door. The whole damn country of Monaco was too small; there was nowhere to hide from his urges, or from you, for that matter.

Not that he usually wanted to. But he had a little problem to take care of.

His phone buzzed. A text from you. 

Where are you?

What was he supposed to say? Hiding from you, because I’m so stupidly aggravated and horny that I can’t even be around you for fear of ruining our friendship?

He let out an angry groan into a pillow to muffle his frustrations. It wasn’t just the physical aspect that he missed; he missed your warmth, the comforting weight of you beside him in the bed, the tentative way you were always just an arm length’s close, never more, never less.

He should have held you. He should have made you feel loved and not used. It haunted him every day. And yes, he was paying the price for it.

“Congrats on pole, man!” he heard, the voice clear enough to indicate that someone was outside his door.

“Thanks,” Lando’s voice replied, before he heard the familiar sound of the door around the corner opening and closing. 

Yeah, he was definitely paying the price.

Oscar contemplated not going back to your place tonight. 

He still had a few days where he could sleep in his old apartment before the sale fully went through. On one hand, the place was empty and quiet, devoid of life and love. He’d be alone with his thoughts—for better or worse.

On the other hand, he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep anywhere except your bed or couch. He had gotten too used to the familiarity of your apartment. And he wanted to savor every second of you living in Monaco, before your inevitable departure. 

He finally decided against a night of solitude. By the time he finally left the circuit, you were nearly ready to go to bed.  

“Jesus, Osc, where have you been?” you asked, and you tried to ignore how his eyes traced the bare skin of your thighs in your sleep shorts.

“At the track,” he said.

“Well, no shit,” you said, “but no one could find you. I texted you and you never responded.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Quali was just…shit.”

He seemed reluctant to answer where he had actually been, so you didn’t press the issue, but you couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room much longer. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. You sat on your couch next to him, where Oscar had his head buried in his hands. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just a headache.”

“I can get you—” 

“I’m fine,” he said again, this time quicker and more dismissive. 

“Osc…”

“I just wanna go to bed,” he whispered.

“Okay,” you said. “You can take the bed tonight.”

It broke your heart to see him so down. Things were nearly as bad as when Lily had first left him. It scared you—there was only one way that you were able to really help him in that scenario, and you couldn’t go there.

“Just let me grab my phone charger,” you said, getting up to go to the room. He followed you, walking like a zombie. When you turned to leave, he moved to let you walk past, then sat on the bed, hunched over. 

You stopped in the doorway, looking him up and down.  

He looked up at you, locking eyes, and it took everything in you not to scoop him up in your arms and kiss him. He looked so…pathetic, sad, something you couldn’t quite name.

You really needed to find a new apartment soon. Or kick him out. 

You couldn’t do either.

Amongst the many things you could not do was sleep. It was 3 in the morning. Against your better judgement, you slipped into your room, praying that Oscar was still asleep.

You just wanted to see him. To gaze upon his face, smoothed with rest, imbued with the peace of sleep despite the stress of the day. Maybe when he was asleep, you could really pretend that none of this had ever happened. 

As you softly slipped next to him under the covers, his eyelids fluttered open and met yours.

“You can’t sleep either?” he softly whispered, to which you shook your head. You adjusted, rolling over to your side to face him, curling up into the blankets as cozy as you could get. His eyes never left your form. 

Neither of you knew what to do. You felt like strangers.

You had been avoiding any real discussions like the plague. But seeing him now, so vulnerable, you finally broke. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?” you whispered.

“I don’t want to argue,” he replied.

“We won’t. I’ll listen, I promise.”

His eyes drafted down to your lips, then back up to your eyes to meet your gaze. You both knew what was going unsaid. But still he spoke, saying, “I’m lonely. I miss Lily and I miss you. I know that I did this, and that’s why it hurts even more. And I’m so scared of losing you forever.”

His eyes welled up with tears as he continued. “I don’t like this,” he said. “Feeling so far from you, feeling like strangers. I wish I could have shown you how I felt earlier. I wish I didn’t hurt you and drive you away. And I know it’s all my fault. But it hurts.”

“Oscar…” you began, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. But the words didn’t find you. 

“The championship is all I have left, and I can’t even focus because of fucking Lando. And I’m scared that he’s up to something and that he’s going to hurt you too, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

“There is something…odd about him,” you said. “I get what you mean.”

“Can I ask you something?” Oscar said, and you nodded. “Does he make you happy?”

“It’s not like that,” you replied. “It’s… I don’t know, like a back and forth. I don’t know what his aim is. It feels like a game. But it kind of scares me.”

“Then why do you keep talking to him?”

“I don’t know.” That was a lie. You did know. “I guess because I feel like I can’t talk to you.”

Oscar bit the inside of his cheek. He understood what you meant. That didn’t mean that it wasn’t like a knife to the chest.

“It’s not…like this. I know we can talk like this. But it’s…” you stopped, swallowing hard. You had to say it. Somebody had to say it. 

Maybe you’d regret it in the morning. But you couldn’t stop now. 

“It’s like…” you began, choosing your words carefully, “I wanted you for so long. And then I had you, but it…it wasn’t right.” Your eyes drifted downward, tracing the soft sliver of light that rested on Oscar’s exposed arms. “I don’t know how not to want. But I can’t want you anymore. Because now I can have you too easily.”

“I don’t understand,” he said. 

“Yes, you do,” you responded. “You said it the other day. We both want it. But we can’t do it right.”

You spoke around the issue, carefully tiptoeing around the discussion of…desire? Lust? Wanting, you had called it. Every word you had said was true. He had felt it earlier in the day. You were feeling it too. 

He could change everything. He could just reach out his hand and touch you. But he was frozen, and so were you. 

“What’s so wrong about it?” he asked. 

“You didn’t touch me like you loved me. You hurt me. And I loved the way it hurt. But…”

“I’ll make love to you right now if you’ll let me. I’d do it right, show you how I really feel.”

The air around you was electric with intensity, like the very first night that he touched you. In the same darkness, you had finally gotten what you so desperately wanted. And you could have it now, if not for one thing.

“I know you would,” you whispered, “and you don’t even know how badly I want it. But… what about her?”

“Her?” he asked, confused.

“Lily.”

The silence that filled the room was heavy, and it threatened to suffocate both of you.

“Lily left you. Because of me,” you said.

“Because Lando was putting thoughts in her head.”

“Thoughts that weren’t far off the truth.”

“So, what? You’re going to deny yourself what you always wanted, for years, because she was here first? Because I fucked up?”

Oscar’s wording made it sound so trivial. And truthfully, you had been there first. 

“How did you feel when you first saw Lando talk to me?” you asked. 

“Pissed. Like I wanted to run him off the track.”

“That’s how Lily felt for years. And she didn’t say anything, and we lied to her and to ourselves until the very end.”

“It’s not the same, though. You know that.”

“The details don’t matter. What matters is that the guilt is eating me alive. I feel like I’m drowning. Even if things between us were better…I don’t want to do that to her.”

“What if she never forgives us? Are you just going to let that ruin our friendship?”

You looked away from him, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze. You couldn’t answer his question.

“I feel like,” you said, “whatever Lando is up to, I know it’s not good, but I deserve it. I deserve him.”

“That’s the most stupid logic I’ve ever heard.” Oscar replied. You laughed. Oscar didn’t. 

He reached out and touched your cheek, causing your eyes to dart back to his. No matter how badly you wanted to avoid him, you couldn’t look away from his gaze that pierced right through you. He saw something deeper. He saw you, in a way no one else could or would. And it was terrifying. 

“YN,” he whispered. “Forget what everyone else said, forget all the messy feelings. What do you want?”

I want you.

That’s what you would have said, if you were not a coward, if you could truly let him in and even try to imagine a world in which your emotions and desires didn’t feel like an ocean that you were close to drowning in. 

“I don’t know,” you replied. That was a lie. You knew it. He knew it. He knew that you knew that he knew it. He just looked at you, biting the inside of his cheek. You wouldn’t admit it. Not after everything that had happened.

In that way, things had gone back to normal.

You turned over to stretch, seeing the first rays of sunlight tinge your window the slightest shade of pink.

“We should get some sleep. Goodnight, Oscar,” you said, pulling the blanket higher and closing your eyes for a brief sleep.

Come the next morning—really, only a few hours later—Oscar’s anger from the previous day had faded to a depression.  All he wanted was for you to hold him, or for him to hold you, but your words still hung heavy in the air. 

This was your punishment, for both of you. 

But by the time he finally dragged himself out of the warm comfort of your bed, you were already nearly ready to head out the door.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you joked, reaching your hand up to tousle his already messy hair, and he melted into the touch. “Are you ready to show them all the Piastri overtake masterclass?” 

“I feel dead,” he mumbled, and you sighed. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you up.”

“It’s okay,” he said, as he yawned into a cup of coffee. “I’m glad we talked.”

Oscar’s reference brought forth an awkward silence that didn’t dissipate until you eventually left for the track, ready again to dawn your thin veneer of professionalism. 

Unfortunately it was raining, and the race had to be delayed. That meant hunkering down in the McLaren garage with Oscar—and Lando.

If looks could kill, Lando would have died ten times over as the two drivers waited for the rain to pass. 

You hovered near Oscar’s side of the garage for the sake of appearances. At least, that’s what you told yourself. You were his social media manager, it made sense for you to hover around him, always ready to capture the next candid shot.

But truthfully, you couldn’t shake the pit in the feeling of your stomach every time you caught Lando looking at you from the corner of your eye. And while you pretended to be oblivious, Oscar didn’t. 

“Okay guys, clear out the garage,” you heard from across the room, as the booming voice of Zak Brown trudged his way inside. “FIA decided that right now was the perfect time for a surprise inspection!”

His voice dripped with sarcastic annoyance, even more than his clothes dripped with rainwater. All non essential personnel—including drivers—needed to leave the garage at once.

You walked along, on your way to find a random spot in the paddock to hunker down. That was, until you felt a hand on your shoulder. 

“YN!” Lando called, smiling when you turned to greet him. His cheeky grin brought butterflies and nausea to your stomach. “You can warm up in my driver’s room if you want.”

You looked over Lando’s shoulder and locked eyes with Oscar, who was close enough to hear every word. If he had been in his car at the time, Lando would have been roadkill.

“Oh, thanks, but I’ve got to get to the paddock and make sure the new guy hasn’t drowned our camera,” you said, a polite and professional smile across your face. 

“No wor—” He was cut off by Oscar’s shoulder bumping into the Brit as he passed. “Oh, hi Oscar, my bad.”

“I should go,” you said, swiftly continuing in the path towards the paddock. You didn’t want to be around for what you knew was happening next.

But if Lando also knew, it didn’t dissuade him from following Oscar back to his driver’s room. 

“Go away, Lando,” the Aussie warned as he stomped down the hallway.

“No, I don’t think I will. I think you’ve got something to say to me.” 

“I think you should shut your fucking mouth and leave YN and I alone.” 

Lando ran ahead of him, blocking the door to Oscar’s driver room. “Why? Why should I leave her alone when she keeps telling me yes, hm?”

“What?”

“I’m just saying, if she really wanted me to leave her alone, she wouldn’t have agreed to go to dinner with me tonight, would she?”

Oscar was dumbfounded by Lando’s claim, and his first instinct was to refute it. But after the conversation last night, he couldn’t put it past you to have accepted his offer of a date. Why you did this, he didn’t know. He couldn’t understand how you let your guilt lead you to such self-sabotaging decisions.

Actually, he could. It wasn’t like he was any better.

“You’re taking advantage of her,” Oscar said, his voice stern. “You don’t love her.”

Lando laughed. “Of course I don’t. She knows it, though. Do you really think she’s that stupid? Well, I guess she kind of is, ‘cause she’s playing right into my hands even though I know she doesn’t trust me. ”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I know it fucks with your head and drives you insane. No matter what you tell her, she won't listen to you. That’s the funniest part. She knows you’re right and she’s going to do the worst possible thing anyway, because she thinks she’s so self-righteous. It’s hilarious. You can tell her every word I say and that won’t stop her from being right where I want her. So you'll just get to watch me use her until she's got nothing else to give me.”

Oscar crossed the short distance between them and grabbed Lando by the shirt. “I swear to God, if you hurt her, I will run you off the track until you're nothing but a spare car part.”

Lando laughed again at his teammate’s warning. “Why are you so mad? I'm not doing anything worse than what you did.”

Oscar released him. “That is not what happened between us,” he sneered.

Lando continued, "You’re right. I guess I'm actually better than you, because I'm not fucking her. Well, not yet at least. I get it, though. I mean, she's not really good enough to bring home to mum, no? But I bet she's a good lay. Guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

“Get the fuck away from me, Lando. And leave her the fuck alone.” 

“Oh don't worry, I'm leaving,” the Brit said, putting his hands in the air in mock surrender. “Just tell YN to wear something nice tonight for me, will you?”

Lando finally turned to leave, but couldn’t resist one last quip at Oscar. “You know, last season, Max taught me something really smart. To win, you can't just outdrive someone. You have to get in their head. Works pretty well, don't you think?”

“Get the fuck out, Lando, before I hurt you,” Oscar threatened, truly at the end of his rope.

Lando just laughed as he finally walked away, turning the corner and going into his own driver’s room. 

Oscar did the same, taking a deep breath when he finally closed the door. He needed to punch something. He needed to scream. He could do neither.

But that wasn’t the worst problem at hand. He knew Lando was right, about everything. And it terrified him.

He had to find some way to prevent you from going on that date. But how? Was there anything he could say that could prevent what his own failures had set in motion so long ago?

There was a knock at his door. It was a McLaren engineer, telling him it was time to come back to the garage. He had wasted so much time bickering with Lando that he couldn't get his headspace right for the race.

God, he was good at this. 

Oscar made his way back to the garage and locked eyes with you. You had looked over your shoulder, still preoccupied with the new guy and his inability to work a camera. You held Oscar’s gaze for a second too long. 

He made his way over to you. “Hey, YN,” he said, “why don’t you get some rain shots before we have to go back out?”

Oscar was never the type to tell you how to do your job, unlike his teammate, who often jokingly ordered you around like his personal photographer. You recognized his attempt to get you away from the new guy.

You stepped away and brought your camera back up to your eye, taking a gorgeous picture of Oscar’s side profile looking at the rain outside. His hair was perfectly tousled, his jawline perfectly sharp, his cheeks shaded a perfect pink, still flustered from the conversation you knew nothing of. Even after being his friend for so many years, and admiring him for so long, it was moments like this when you were truly reminded how much you loved him.

Because just as Oscar saw you, you saw him. You saw through his carefully crafted exterior; truthfully, as his best friend and social media manager, you had been instrumental in making it. When others saw him as unemotional, you saw the small nuances in how he moved and spoke, the subtle changes in expression. You two had your own language in that way, and your devotion showed itself in moments like these, where you could capture the most beautiful photographs of your friend, letting the world have just a brief glimpse into the complex soul that you had become so enraptured by.

Yeah, you were fucked. 

Oscar finally put on his helmet and began to get ready to roll the car out to the grid. 

“Good luck,” you whispered. You reached out your hand and intertwined it with his, squeezing it as an act of comfort. Even through the rough material of his gloves, you hoped to send him a real message of love. 

Maybe that was too strong a word. You couldn’t tell anymore. 

Though you followed both cars out to the now dry grid, you kept your distance, knowing that now the focus was on the monumental race ahead of them. You let the camera be your shield against emotion, though you couldn’t help how it focused in on Oscar so easily. Even from afar, his eyes quickly glancing at your lens could tell you depths of information. 

At the front of the grid, Lando occasionally looked back on you. He was ready to go, determined to win this race; Oscar was no longer a threat, in the back of the grid and distracted beyond measure. 

But the Brit couldn’t help being distracted a bit himself. You weren’t looking at him. You were pulling away a bit too much for comfort. 

It doesn’t matter now, he thought to himself. He knew you. Not in the deep way that Oscar did, but still enough to know exactly what buttons to push, when to give and when to pressure. It was a skill that he’d come to refine in the past few years, fighting not only against world-class athletes, but also against master manipulators, for the Formula 1 World Driver’s Championship title.

He never thought he’d have to play this dirty to eliminate a teammate. But so far, it was working like a charm, and at this point, there wasn’t much he was above doing to get that title.

Unfortunately, Lando’s ambitions couldn’t keep up with his abilities. He bottled pole at the start and wasn’t able to recover. 

Oscar had a few overtakes, but not anything spectacular. Monaco would not be a race to remember for McLaren that year. 

After getting all your shots of Oscar in the garage after the race, you made your way back to your apartment. You had to get ready for your date with Lando that night.

You had never been the type to have a very strong intuition. You could never distinguish it from anxiety or paranoia. But you couldn’t ignore that pit in the bottom of your stomach that just grew and grew, devouring all your thoughts as you fixed your hair and applied your makeup. 

In the middle of your beauty routine, Oscar came home, exhausted from the race.

“You did great out there today,” you said, giving him a small smile as he flopped down on the bed.”

“I barely got points,” he said.

“Yeah, but it’s a track that’s awful for overtaking and you were going on, what, 2 or 3 hours of sleep? Take the small wins where you can.”

“How are you not exhausted?” he questioned, sitting up to watch you apply your skincare at your vanity.

I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest, that’s why, you thought. But for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to confide your anxieties to Oscar right now.

You knew why. Because you knew that he could change it. He could convince you to give in to your desires, to drown in him. And you couldn’t. You were too goddamned stubborn.

You didn’t answer Oscar’s question, and that familiar heavy feeling dawned in your room.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked. Neither of you really had the energy for talking, but you knew it was more a statement than a request. “I talked to Lando today.”

Ah, so he knew what you were doing. 

“He said some…really messed up stuff about you, YN. He doesn't care about you.”

“I know he doesn’t,” you said, your voice flat and quiet.

“It’s more than that. YN, the things he said disgusted me, and he laughed about it like it was the funniest thing. Please don’t do this.”

“Don’t, Oscar.”

“YN—”

You got up and walked into your closet to get dressed for the night, cutting him off. 

You heard him sigh, and the sound of ruffling clothing filled the room as you both changed out of eye shot of each other. The thought of Oscar undressed in your bed again made your head spin.

You snaked the fabric of the dress over your skin, smoothing it out. You put on your shoes and grabbed your purse before taking a deep breath and stepping out.

“How do I look?” you asked. But you were distracted by a shirtless Oscar sitting on your bed, muscles still taunt from the race hours before.

“Beautiful,” he said. “You’re perfect.”

His voice was too tender, his words too strong. You couldn’t bear it for much longer. You shuffled around your room, organizing your makeup and applying your perfume, trying to distract yourself from the elephant—or rather, shirtless F1 driver that you were in love with—in the room.

“I’m not sure what time I’ll be—”

“YN,” Oscar said, standing up to place himself in front of you, between you and the door. “Don’t do this.”

“Oscar…” you began.

“You don’t have to do this. Stay here with me.” he advanced towards you, closing the gap by placing his hands on your waist.

Your heart skipped a beat. The thin line that had so carefully been drawn after his apology was gone now with his sensual touch.

You looked away from him. He reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes to look up at his.

“You don’t have to go to him. You don’t have to leave Monaco or find another job. You don’t have to do any of this. YN, let me take care of you.”

Instinctively, you reached your hand out to rest against his bare chest, and you felt his breath hitch. You were going to give in, right here and now.

And God, you wanted to. You missed the warmth of Oscar’s body against yours, the liminal space he occupied in your bed after a night of collision and pleasure. And in that moment, with his soft heart beat and the steady rhythm of his breaths right under your fingertips, you felt…safe. At home. Seen.

Your phone buzzed in your purse. 

“I’m going to be late,” you muttered, stepping back and walking around him.  He let you go easily.

“Get some rest, Oscar,” you told him, a final goodbye, or at least that’s how it felt, as you closed the door behind you and left to go meet Lando. 

[daeniradraconis]

Faceoff with Love - Jack Hughes

Summary: Jack Hughes. The NHL’s ultimate manwhore. King of confidence. Untouchable… or at least, that’s what he thought. Until he falls hard.

Warning: Implied sexual situations, mature language, nothing too wild or serious

Hey, lovelies! 💕 This is Jack's story, the next installment in what I’ve officially named The Hughes Effect Saga—because let’s be real, every brother deserves their own story. I couldn’t resist giving the main characters names since this universe is growing, and honestly, trying to write it without them would’ve been mission impossible. So, just a heads-up: Thea is Luke’s love interest! (Though if you’ve read Age Is Just a Number…Right?, you won’t see her mentioned there, since that one started as a standalone one-shot.) You can read this without reading Age Is Just a Number, but it definitely gives you more background on Jack's story if you do!

Not gonna lie, this one took forever to write. It ended up being 16,472 words and 42 pages in my Word doc—so, yeah… buckle up! 😅

Hope you love reading it as much as I loved writing it! ❤️

For more fun: masterlist

—-

Jack Hughes, star of the New Jersey Devils, was enjoying a normal morning—until the noises coming from his little brother Luke’s room hijacked his thoughts. Jack had always been supportive of Luke, and he was genuinely happy for him. After all, Luke and his girlfriend had been through a lot—the pressures of the NHL, the relentless fans, and everything in between had made starting their relationship anything but easy. He knew how much effort they both put in to make it work, and he couldn’t help but admire them for it.

But the sounds from the next room? That was a different story. Jack tried to block it out, but it was impossible. The muffled conversations—and those other noises—had a way of seeping into his mind. It wasn’t just the invasion of privacy that bothered him, though. It was what he’d learned that really threw him off: Luke’s kink.

Some things were best left unsaid, behind closed doors. But there was Luke, sounding way too eager to ask permission for... well, things Jack had no business hearing. It was burned into his brain, and he couldn’t unhear it.

“Yeah, no. Nope. That’s it. I need to get out of here,” Jack muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

With a groan, he kicked off the covers, grabbed a hoodie from the back of the couch, and yanked it over his head. “I need bleach. For my ears. And my soul.”

A coffee shop seemed like the safest escape—loud espresso machines, the comforting scent of fresh beans… anything to erase whatever the hell he’d just overheard.

As he stepped outside, he let out a deep breath, shaking off the lingering ick of the morning. He had morning skates later anyway, so at least this way, he’d be caffeinated and mentally prepared before hitting the ice.

By the time Jack reached the coffee shop, the tension in his shoulders had finally eased, the crisp morning air doing its job in clearing his head. As he pushed open the door, the familiar chime jingled, welcoming him into the warm, cozy space. It wasn’t crowded—just a handful of people tapping away at laptops, a few others lost in their books, the low hum of conversation filling the air.

Jack stepped into line, a slow grin tugging at his lips as he took in the room. He could feel it—the shift in energy, the way conversations quieted just slightly, the not-so-subtle glances thrown his way. He walked in like he owned the place. And in a way, he kind of did. Not literally, of course, but the moment he stepped inside, it was obvious—people noticed.

A couple of girls in the corner glanced up, whispering behind their hands. The old man at the corner table did a double take. A guy in line nudged his friend, a knowing smirk passing between them. Jack thrived on it. The attention, the recognition—it was something he was used to, and he had no problem leaning into it.

His gaze swept over the room, naturally lingering on the women who were stealing glances at him. A cocky smirk curled at the corner of his lips, and just for fun, he threw in a wink. A playful smile for good measure. Yeah, he knew the effect he had. Confidence? Absolutely. Arrogance? Maybe just a little. But it was the kind of charm that turned heads, and really, who could blame him? Jack Hughes wasn’t just another guy in the crowd—he was the one people noticed.

And he loved every second of it.

Jack was used to this. It was familiar. Easy. But then—he saw her.

She wasn’t looking at him. She wasn’t whispering about him, or sneaking glances, or batting her lashes like so many others did. She was behind the counter, focused on her work, crafting drinks with effortless precision, her movements fluid and practiced. There was something about her—a quiet warmth, a presence that made the entire room feel at ease. She wasn’t just beautiful; it was the way she carried herself. Feminine yet self-assured, graceful but never trying too hard.

Jack felt it immediately—the pull. Like gravity.

His heart did this stupid little stutter, and before he even realized it, he was just standing there. Staring. What the hell?

This wasn’t him. Jack Hughes didn’t freeze up over a girl. He’d had flings, fun, no-strings-attached moments. He knew how to flirt, how to charm, how to walk away before things got complicated. But right now? None of that seemed to matter.

Get it together, Hughes, he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to look away.

But then, as if she’d felt his gaze, she looked up. Their eyes met.

And in that instant, something shifted.

It was subtle. Electric. She had this knowing look on her face, like she could see right through him. Like she already had him figured out before he could even open his mouth.

And for the first time in a long time, Jack Hughes wasn’t the one in control.

Jack leaned on the counter, trying to play it cool, but he couldn’t shake the pull he felt toward her. When she finally looked up, their eyes met, and for a second, the usual confidence he wore like a second skin seemed to fade.

She raised an eyebrow as she set her hands on the counter, a half-smirk forming on her lips. "Can I help you?"

Jack blinked, catching himself. "Uh, that depends. You serving coffee... or are you in the business of making guys fall in love too?" he said with a grin, though it came out a little less smooth than he intended.

She didn’t even flinch. "Just coffee. And bad pickup lines? They cost extra."

Jack chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ouch. Brutal." He leaned in, dropping the cocky act just a little. "Alright, alright. I’ll take a latte. And a blueberry muffin. Gotta keep it classic, you know?"

"Classic? More like predictable," she replied, tossing a glance over her shoulder as she started on his drink.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You analyzing me now?"

She didn’t even look at him as she spoke. "Not really. Just guessing you’re the type who thinks a smirk and a couple of cheesy lines will get you anything you want."

Jack froze for a moment, a little taken aback. "Whoa, right in the heart," he said, putting his hand over his chest in mock offense.

She didn’t even look at him this time. "You’ll survive. Might even build some character," she added casually as she reached for the milk steamer.

Jack smirked, his confidence flickering back. "Character, huh? I’ve got plenty. Some might even say too much."

She glanced up then, eyes dancing with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "Yeah? And who exactly are these 'some'?"

He leaned in a little closer, almost leaning on the counter now. "Oh, you know... fans, teammates, my mom... definitely my mom." He winked.

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head, her fingers expertly crafting the latte. "Uh-huh. Sure, sounds legit."

Jack leaned back a bit, watching her. There was something about how she didn’t let him off the hook. It was... refreshing. "So what’s it gonna take?" he asked, trying to play it cool again.

"For what?" She finally met his gaze, eyebrows raised.

"For you to admit you’re already a little bit in love with me," he said with a teasing grin, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She slid his drink across the counter without a hint of hesitation. "Jack Hughes, right?"

His grin widened. "So you do know me."

"Oh, I know of you," she said, turning away to grab a napkin, clearly unfazed. "You’re a good player."

Jack straightened up, puffing out his chest. "Great player," he corrected her, but his tone was light, playful.

She looked over her shoulder, deadpan. "On the ice."

Jack laughed softly, the sting of her words taking a second to hit. "Damn, alright. Tough crowd."

She smiled, but it wasn’t the soft, flirty smile he expected. It was knowing. Like she already saw right through him. "Seen your type before. You walk in, flash a smile, throw out a line or two, and think the world’s just gonna roll over for you."

Jack leaned in again, his grin slipping into something more genuine. "And yet, here you are... still talking to me. Guess you must like it."

She hummed, considering this, before turning back to the machine. "Or maybe I just like watching a guy slowly realize he’s not as smooth as he thinks he is."

Jack’s smirk returned, and he picked up his drink. "So this is how it’s gonna be, huh?"

She winked, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Oh, Hughes. You have no idea."

He laughed, shaking his head as he grabbed his muffin. "I’ve got to run. Practice later... but I’ll be back. You’re an interesting one." He winked, letting the last word linger a little longer than usual.

“Do not threaten me, Hughes,” she shot back, her voice dry but that little smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Jack turned to leave, his mind still buzzing from their conversation. He could feel her eyes on his back as he walked out the door, but this time, it wasn’t the usual adrenaline of a win. It was something else.

Maybe... just maybe, she was right. He was used to being in control, but with her? Yeah, she wasn’t having any of it.

—

The ice cream shop had a laid-back atmosphere, with a few customers scattered across the tables, quietly enjoying their frozen treats. The soft hum of conversation blended with the occasional clink of spoons against bowls and the low buzz of the freezer in the corner. The casual, easygoing vibe was the perfect backdrop for Jack to make his usual, attention-grabbing announcement.

“So, I met a girl,” he said casually, his grin practically glowing with satisfaction.

Luke didn’t even look up, already bracing himself for whatever absurdity was coming. Jack had that look—an announcement, followed by something outlandish. Thea, however, shot him a pointed glance, arching a brow in that skeptical way she did so well.

“Oh, here we go,” she muttered, barely containing her amusement.

Jack scoffed. “Wow, way to be supportive.”

Thea smirked, scooping a spoonful of chocolate ice cream into her mouth. “No, it’s just... every time you drop that line, I know I’m about to hear some delusional story about how she’s already swooning over you.” She shrugged with a grin. “Which, let’s be honest, is usually true. Flash that smile, and bam! Girls are basically tripping over themselves for you.”

Jack leaned back, clearly relishing the attention. “Exactly. It’s a gift.”

Thea rolled her eyes and casually tossed her hair over her shoulder. “No, it’s just an ego boost. You’re like a baby with a bottle—constantly sucking up the attention.”

Jack, looking entirely unbothered, twirled his spoon. “Can you blame me? I mean, why not appreciate what I’ve got?”

Luke looked up now, giving Jack a resigned look. He was ready for the same tired routine. “Jack, have you ever thought that maybe—just maybe—not every girl is going to fall for your whole act?”

Jack shot him a glance like he’d just suggested the most absurd thing. “Why would I think that? It’s never happened.” He paused, then added with a touch of uncertainty, “Okay, she’s a tough one, but she’ll come around. I think she just likes to play hard to get.” He could see the truth in her eyes—she wasn’t interested—but admitting that wasn’t an option. Not with his brother and Thea around.

Thea snorted, clearly amused. “Oh, the delusion’s strong with this one.”

Jack leaned forward slightly, tapping his fingers on the table with a confident smirk. “I’m not delusional, I’m just a realist. And the reality is... I’m me.” He paused for effect. “And I don’t lose.”

Thea let out a dramatic laugh, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Jack frowned, confused. “What’s so funny?”

Thea took another bite of her cone, her grin widening. “You. Thinking you’re untouchable. I love the confidence, but one day, some girl’s going to make you look like a fool.”

Jack scoffed, shaking his head. “Please. Do you have any idea how many girls would kill for a shot with me? I could walk out of here and just point at someone, and they'd be all over me.”

Luke, who had been watching the exchange unfold, finally spoke up. “Yeah, except for this one. I’m guessing she’s got a little more sense than that.”

Jack groaned, dramatically rubbing his face with his hand and shooting Luke an exasperated "you little shit" look. “Oh, come on. You make it sound like I don’t have options. I’m Jack Hughes guys—the same guy who got a date with three different girls at last week’s game.”

Thea rolled her eyes again. “Oh yeah, that’s really a sign of emotional maturity.” She shot Luke a knowing look.

Luke just smiled faintly, shaking his head. “If Jack’s ego ever took a hit, we'd probably need a whole therapy session.”

Jack flashed a smug grin, fully aware they were kind of right. “Ego? What ego? I’m just stating the facts.”

Thea leaned in, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Sure. State your facts. But you’re missing one thing, Jack.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what’s that?”

She tilted her head, clearly loving the moment. “This girl doesn’t want you.”

Jack’s smile faltered just a touch, but he quickly recovered. “Everybody wants me.”

Thea shook her head, the smirk never leaving her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but Jack jumped in before she could.

“Okay, maybe except you!” He threw his hands up in mock frustration. “But that’s not my charm’s fault. You just have a thing for younger guys, so I never stood a chance. You pedo…”

Thea’s cheeks flushed, and she slapped his arm lightly, her voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. “Jack, you can’t call me that, you arrogant prick! Show some respect to your elders!”

Jack smirked, unfazed. “Oh, yes, yes… sorry, Ms. Senior Citizen.”

Luke chuckled softly, shaking his head. He couldn’t help but be impressed with how Thea had grown into herself. At first, their six-year age gap had made her uneasy, but Jack, being Jack, never passed up a chance to remind her of it. Luke knew Jack played this game on purpose—his teasing made Thea realize the age gap wasn’t as big of a deal as she’d thought. And over time, she’d become more confident, even starting to enjoy Jack’s dark humor. Of course, she’d never admit it, and Luke was thankful for that. Jack didn’t need any more ego boosts.

“This is going to be a disaster,” Luke muttered under his breath, as if preparing himself for the inevitable chaos. It wasn’t a prediction—it was a certainty. Jack wasn’t going to let this girl slip away, he new that.

Jack waved him off, though his signature, idiotic grin only grew wider. “Relax, Lukey. I’m unstoppable. She’s going to like me. Trust me.”

Luke sighed, leaning back in his chair, his fingers pressing against his temples as he massaged his forehead. “Ohhh, this is going to be such a disaster.”

Jack finished off his ice cream, still blissfully unaware of the train wreck he was about to walk into. “You two are the worst. But mark my words, she’s going to like me.”

Thea winked at him. “No, we’re just not here to feed your delusion, Jacky. You could use a reality check every once in a while.”

Jack rolled his eyes, the mischievous grin still tugging at his lips. “You know what, Lukey? Maybe you should upgrade her to someone a little younger…”

“JACK!” Luke and Thea shouted in unison, but Jack only laughed, clearly finding his own joke far too hilarious.

— 

Jack pushed open the door to the coffee shop, the familiar chime of the bell ringing through the night air, but tonight, it sounded more hollow than usual.

It was late—too late—the kind of late when the world seems to shrink into itself, wrapped in the silence of the night. The air carried the warm scent of coffee and sweet pastries, but Jack barely noticed. His mind was still spinning from the game. The Devils had lost, and his mood mirrored the dark sky outside—heavy, empty, and far too cold. Yet, despite the bitterness of defeat lingering in his chest, there was something else that kept nagging at him.

He wanted to see her.

The girl behind the counter.

It was absurd, he knew. He didn’t even know her name. But ever since the game ended—ever since he’d sat in the locker room, listening to Nico’s half-hearted attempts at positivity—his thoughts kept drifting back to her. Why? It didn’t make sense.

He glanced around, expecting the usual warmth and buzz of conversation that made the place feel so cozy. But tonight was different.

The lights were dim, and the usual chatter had faded—most likely because it was just two minutes to closing, and the last of the customers had trickled out.

Jack’s eyes immediately found her behind the counter. The girl from before.

The moment she saw him, her expression shifted, just slightly—a brief flicker of annoyance before her face went completely neutral. He could tell she wasn’t exactly thrilled to see him, especially not this late.

Jack leaned against the counter, flashing his trademark easy smile. “Hey there.”

She looked up, the briefest flicker of recognition crossing her face before it disappeared. She sighed quietly, clearly not in the mood. "You again," she muttered under her breath, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "What do you want this time?"

Jack grinned, undeterred by her tone. “Actually, I realized I never got your name last time.”

She blinked, taken aback. “Seriously? You came all the way back just for my name?” She paused, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I must be pretty special, huh?”

Jack shrugged like it was no big deal. “Guess I was too busy trying to charm you last time. But hey, I did promise I’d come back.” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “So now that I’m here… what’s your name?”

She rolled her eyes but grabbed some fresh milk from under the counter. “It’s Anja,” she said flatly.

Jack raised an eyebrow, as if savoring the name. “Anja, huh? Definitely sounds foreign.”

Anja shot him a dry look, hands almost slamming the milk into the fridge. “Yep. My dad’s German, my mom’s from New Jersey. Pretty exotic, right?”

Jack’s grin faltered for a moment, surprised. “Wait—your dad’s from Germany? That’s… interesting.” He paused, then added with a laugh. “That’s one combo I didn’t expect. My buddy Nico’s German too. He was born in Switzerland.”

Anja froze, staring at him. Then blinked slowly. “Wait—what?”

Jack, clearly proud of his random connection, rushed on, oblivious to her confusion. “Yeah, Nico’s our captain, super chill guy. Always telling me I should visit him in Switzerland one summer. We haven’t done it yet, but maybe next year. He’s like a brother to me, honestly. Don’t tell my real brothers, though—they’d flip. They get jealous if I even mention Nico.”

Anja raised an eyebrow, already knowing Jack had a habit of overestimating the significance of himself. She stared at him for a moment, then couldn’t help it—she burst into laughter. “No, Jack… Switzerland’s not in Germany!” She bent forward slightly, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

Jack blinked, feeling a little foolish, but he wasn’t about to back down. “What? It’s a county in Germany, right? Somewhere near... uh, Munich…?”

Anja’s eyes widened, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. She let out a laugh, half-pitying, half-astonished. “Oh my God, Hughes. Switzerland and Germany are two completely different countries.” She shook her head slowly, as if he’d just told her the Earth was flat. “You’re telling me your best friend’s from Switzerland, and you have no idea where the hell is that? Seriously, could you be more American?”

Jack winced, but a grin quickly crept back onto his face, clearly unbothered by his own ignorance. “Hey, don’t forget, you’re half American too, so no need to get all high and mighty on me.”

Anja raised an eyebrow, her grin widening as she crossed her arms.“Sweetie, you’re the one who thought Switzerland was a county.”

Jack shrugged with a playful grin, raising his hands in mock surrender, his smile never faltering. “Alright, fine. But I’ll take this as a win. I’ve officially upgraded to the ‘sweetie’ category.”

Anja shook her head, still chuckling at his relentless self-confidence. “A lost cause, Hughes. That’s what you are… a lost cause.” She gave him an exasperated look, but the corner of her mouth quirked up. “Maybe try opening some books next time. Girls like guys with an actual brain.”

Jack waved it off dismissively. “I’ll let you know I do read. But yeh my brother Quinn is the nerd. Seriously bookish. Let me tell you, it’s not helping him. He’s got zero game.”

Anja flashed a playful grin and leaned in closer, the sudden proximity making Jack’s heart skip a beat. Her perfume—a fresh, orange scent that reminded him of a rain-drenched forest—hit him like a bolt of lightning. It was warm, feminine, and intoxicating. He couldn’t help but notice the way the scent seemed to pull him closer, but he did his best to keep it together.

She lowered her voice just enough to make him focus. “Or maybe... he’s just a normal guy who doesn’t want every woman’s panties to drop the second he meets them.”

Jack swallowed, his eyes flicking to her mouth, noticing the way her lips parted just slightly as she spoke. He tried to focus, but the air between them was thick with tension, the heat of her so close to him throwing him off. “Or maybe…” He leaned in, his voice dropping low, his words teasing as his gaze lingered on her lips. “He just overthinks everything. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow in life, you know?”

Anja shook her head with a soft smile, muttering under her breath as she crossed her arms. “As I said, lost cause,” she added, only half-amused, half-exasperated.

Jack laughed, relieved she was still in the game. He gave her a wink, the confidence in his smile almost irresistible. “But a charming, good-looking, lost cause, right?”

Anja rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips and the amusement in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t really bothered. Her eyes briefly caught his, and for the first time, she noticed how his blue eyes weren’t just any shade—they had this grayish undertone that made them look almost stormy. It was enough to make her pause for a moment, but she snapped back to the banter with a playful glint. “You really should’ve opened a geography book sometime. You can’t disrespect your friend this much. At least learn the basics about the poor guy’s life if you want to be his bestie.”

Jack’s grin widened as he leaned in, his light brown wavy hair falling slightly into his eyes, his expression a mix of challenge and charm. “Hey—I’d happily let you teach me about Switzerland... or anything else. To be fair, I’d let you do anything with me.”

Anja let out a breathless laugh at his boldness, shaking her head, but her eyes softened as she met his gaze. “Yeah, keep dreaming, Jack.”

Jack winked. “Believe me I will. But seriously—just give me a chance. Let me prove myself to you.” Anja rolled her eyes again, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away. “Whatever, Jack. You can beg, but the answer is still no.”

Jack didn’t hesitate. The thought struck him like a bolt of lightning, and before he could second-guess himself, he dropped to his knees with all the dramatic flair he could muster, looking up at her with wide, pleading eyes.

Anja froze, her eyes wide, the mug she’d been about to place on the shelf still dangling in mid-air. “What the hell are you doing?!” she asked, her voice a mix of confusion and something else—amusement, maybe. It was hard to tell.

Jack tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes, still kneeling with a grin that stretched wider. “You said I can beg, but I wasn’t really begging yet, was I? Let me show you just how good I can be at it.” He fluttered his lashes and gave her the full-on puppy-dog eyes, cranking up the charm.

Anja stared at him for a solid minute, her brain clearly processing the absurdity of the situation. Then, as if a switch had flipped, she burst out laughing. “You’re insane,” she said, shaking her head, stepping back like she needed to regain some personal space from this level of ridiculousness.

Jack, still on his knees, leaned in a bit closer with dramatic theatrics, his grin widening. He clasped his hands together like he was about to give a TED talk.

"Anja, hear me out," he began, voice dripping with over-the-top sincerity. "I know you think I’m a lost cause, but I’m not just any lost cause. I’m your lost cause. And let me tell you why."

He paused for effect, then continued, ticking off his points like a lawyer making a case. "First off, I’m a party. You want a good time? I’m your guy. I can keep things fun, always ready for an adventure, never a dull moment."

He held up a finger, ready to deliver his second point. "Next, I’m a manwhore. And I know what you’re thinking—‘Jack, that sounds bad!’ But no, hear me out. Being a manwhore means experience. I know how to make people laugh, I know how to charm, I know how to—" He shot her a wink. "Well, I know how to do a lot of things. So... experience? Check."

Jack then leaned back dramatically, spreading his arms out. "And, let’s not forget, I’m a hockey player. I’m rich, athletic, and—" he gave her a sly grin, flexing his arm slightly, "look at these muscles. I’ve got the athletic build, which means a lot of energy to spare. And when I’m not working out, I’m probably... in the kitchen making all the mistakes with cooking. And that’s actually a good thing! Because you—" he pointed at her, "You can be the queen of the kitchen, living out your baking dreams while I try not to set the stove on fire. My kitchen? Practically untouched, new condition. You can take over anytime."

Anja rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t ready for what came next. Jack, still grinning, suddenly pulled his shirt up slightly to expose a well-defined set of abs. His muscles flexed with a little extra dramatic flair. "See this?" He flexed again, holding the pose for a moment. "Hard work, dedication... and honestly, a whole lot of charm. You can’t argue with that, right?"

Anja froze, her eyes wide with disbelief. She stood there for a moment, trying to process what she was seeing, before rushing to Jack. Kneeling beside him, she reached for his shirt, fingers scrambling to grab the fabric. She shot him a look of shock. “Oh my God, Jack, put it down! This is insane.” She yanked at his shirt, but Jack grabbed her wrist. His grip was unshakable, and he used his position on the ground to keep her from pulling away.

He moved closer, a glint of mischief in his eyes, clearly enjoying every moment of his act. “I’m just proving a point. I’m the full package, Anja—athletic, a manwhore, experienced, and a terrible cook. The perfect guy to have fun!”

Anja gave him a look that was half disbelief, half amusement—as if saying, "Even you don’t believe this." She tried to pull her hand away, but Jack kept his grip tight, holding her wrist steady as his grin grew wider.

Jack shrugged, unfazed by the situation. “Alright, alright, maybe my geography’s a little off. But here’s the deal: You get to be the smart one with all the answers, and I’ll just nod and smile while you school me. It’ll be your show—I’m basically signing up to be your personal cheerleader. You’re the brains, I’ll be the brawn. Need a little backup? I’m your guy.”

Anja shot him a pointed, exasperated look, surprised but slightly amused as he kept his hold on her wrist. “So, Anja, what do you think? I’m the full package—fun, rich, athletic, kind, supportive, and amazing. What more could you possibly want?”

Despite herself, Anja laughed, though she fought to hold her composure. “This is the worst pitch I’ve ever heard in my life, Jack. Seriously, put your shirt down already.”

But Jack didn’t move an inch. "You know you want to. I’m practically giving you the world here. I can be your support, your personal cheerleader. You’ll be the brains of the relationship, and I’ll—"

"—Be the ‘muscles,’ right?" Anja interrupted, raising an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk.

"Exactly! I'll be your biggest fan, always backing you up. And hey, I’m probably the best at making people laugh too.”

Anja couldn’t help but stare at him—this insufferably stubborn, over-the-top guy—and, much to her own surprise, found herself laughing again. “Hughes, you’re a complete idiot. But fine,” she sighed, shaking her head, “I’ll give it to you—you’ve got muscles... and, I guess that counts for something?”

Jack shot her a wink. “Oh, it counts for everything, Anja. Everything. So, what do you say? One coffee, no weirdness?”

Anja hesitated, still gripping his shirt, then let out a long sigh. "Fine. One coffee. But just so we're clear, Hughes—this is strictly a friend thing. No boyfriend talk. I’m not looking for anything, and I definitely can’t handle you as my boyfriend.”

Jack released her wrist, smoothing out his shirt, his grin still in place but with a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Deal. I’ll settle for the friend date. A desperate man takes what he can get.”

Anja rolled her eyes, half amused. "Just... no flexing, alright?"

Jack chuckled, giving her a mock salute. “Alright, alright—I'll behave.”

– 

And Jack wasn't lying, about him being on his good behaviour.

He pulled up in his sleek car just as Anja finished her shift a couple days later. The neon lights of the coffee shop flickering behind her. She stepped out into the crisp evening air, shaking off the exhaustion of her shift, her apron swapped for a simple jacket. Jack leaned over from the driver’s seat, his grin wide, like a cat who’d just caught its prey.

“Ready for our coffee date, Anja?”

Anja rolled her eyes dramatically as she slid into the car, amusement flickering across her face.“It’s a friend date, Jack,” she corrected, her voice dripping with mock annoyance. “And what’s the plan? Where are we going?”

Jack’s grin widened. “Well, about that…” He gestured toward the empty streets. “It’s a bit late, and all the normal coffee shops are closed. But don’t worry, I’ve got a backup plan.”

Anja raised an eyebrow.”Yeh that's what I’m afraid of.”

“No, no. You’ll love this. Trust me.”Jack chuckled. 

A few minutes later, they pulled up to an old, charming bookstore that looked like it belonged in another era—warm light spilling from its windows, a glowing sign that read Open 24 Hours. It had the kind of inviting presence that made you want to step inside and stay awhile.

Jack parked and motioned for Anja to follow him in.

“This is… a bookstore?” she asked, her tone laced with skepticism but also curiosity. As she stepped through the door, the scent of old pages and freshly brewed coffee wrapped around her like a comforting embrace.

“Not just any bookstore,” he said, his tone teasing. “It’s got a coffee shop inside. And pastries. Perfect place for a late-night coffee date, if you ask me.” Jack flashed a smirk, leading her toward the back. “And you thought I’ve never read a book in my entire life—guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

Anja smiled sweetly, shaking her head as she followed him. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Not ridiculous. Creative,” Jack corrected with a grin. 

Inside, a barista was still serving warm drinks to a couple of late-night readers, the soft hum of conversation blending seamlessly with the crackling of an old record playing in the background. Cozy armchairs and beanbags were scattered throughout the room, creating an intimate, almost dreamlike atmosphere.

Anja glanced around, taking it all in. The soft lighting, the inviting scent of coffee and something sweet—chocolate, maybe—it all made the space feel like a quiet little world of its own. A place where time didn’t feel so urgent. “Okay… I’ll admit, this is actually kind of nice. Cozy, even.”

Jack flopped onto a nearby beanbag, a self-satisfied grin on his face. “See? You can’t always judge a book by its cover.”

Anja groaned. “You’ve been in prime form tonight, haven’t you?”

“Hey, I’ve got plenty more where that came from,” he shot back, flashing her another confident smile.

He studied her for a moment before speaking again, his tone softer. “What if we swap coffee for hot chocolate instead?” His playful edge had slipped away a little. “Figured something warm and sweet might be better this late.”

Anja raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden thoughtfulness. “Hmm, actually, that sounds really good. It is too late for coffee, and I could use a decent night’s sleep for once.”

Jack’s smile deepened, satisfied with her answer. “Good choice,” he said with a wink before heading to the counter.

When he came back, he wasn’t just carrying hot chocolate. Along with the two steaming mugs, he had a plate of warm pastries, their flaky layers golden and crisp. He set everything on the small coffee table between their beanbags, the sweet smell of cocoa and butter filling the air. Something about the simple gesture—just them, the warmth, the food—made the moment feel unexpectedly intimate.

Anja dropped her coat to the floor and sank into her beanbag, letting out a soft sigh as she got comfortable. Everything about this night felt softer, easier than she’d expected.

“I really wasn’t expecting this… but it’s nice.” She reached for her mug, glancing at him. “Just don’t let the compliment go to your head.”

Jack smirked as he leaned back, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “No promises.” He picked up a pastry and held it out to her. "I figured you'd appreciate a little something sweet to go with the moment."

Anja hesitated for only a second before taking the pastry. As she bit into it, the warm layers melted on her tongue, and she let out an involuntary hum of satisfaction.

“Okay,” she admitted, taking another bite. “You’re definitely not wrong about this.”

Jack watched her, the sound of her hum catching him off guard, a hint of something shifting in his chest.

As they sipped their hot chocolate the café around them felt like its own little world—soft lighting, the distant murmur of pages turning, the quiet clinking of mugs against saucers.

Anja curled deeper into her beanbag, fingers wrapped around her mug, letting its warmth seep into her hands. Jack stretched out in his seat, looking just as content, his usual energy softened.

When they finished, Jack set his mug down with a satisfied sigh and shot Anja a look. Then, without warning, he reached for her hand and pulled her up.

“Alright, let’s go,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Anja blinked. “Go where?”

He gestured toward the shelves. “You can’t just sit in a bookstore café and not browse. That’s practically a crime.”

She huffed a laugh but let him lead her toward the towering bookshelves. As they wandered through the aisles, Anja ran her fingers over worn spines, occasionally picking up a book to flip through. Jack did the same, moving ahead of her, plucking books off the shelves without much thought.

At first, she didn’t pay much attention to his choices—until she caught a glimpse of the titles in his hands. The Odyssey. Moby Dick. War and Peace.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, staring at him like he’d just grown a second head. “War and Peace? Really?”

Jack raised an eyebrow, totally unbothered. “What? I’ve got layers, Anja. I like to read, too. Not geography books, as you already know, but serious stuff. Might surprise you.”

Anja let out a laugh, shaking her head. “You? The manwhore of the hockey world? Reading Tolstoy? I thought you were too busy with girls and hockey to have time for this kind of thing.”

Jack smirked, holding up the book like it was a trophy. “Ha ha, really funny.” He shot her a look, clearly not offended. “I’ll have you know, girls and hockey are not the only things in my brain.”

Anja scoffed, reaching out to snatch the book from his hands. She flipped it open, skimming a few pages before looking back up at him, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

“You actually read this?” she asked, holding up War and Peace like it was a foreign artifact. “Not just for, like, show?”

Jack placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Wow. Zero faith in me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, flipping through the pages. “Alright, prove it. Who’s your favorite character?”

Without missing a beat, Jack smirked. “Andrei Bolkonsky.”

Anja froze for a second, looking up from the pages, clearly thrown. “Wait, really? You’re an Andrei guy?”

Jack nodded, his expression dead serious. “What? You thought I’d say Pierre?”

“YES,” she said immediately. “Pierre’s the obvious choice. He’s way more... interesting.”

“Interesting? Pierre’s a hot mess for like, 90% of the book. The guy spends half his time getting lost, getting into trouble, and overthinking everything.”

Anja shot him a teasing glance. “Exactly. That’s what makes him interesting! He’s awkward, searching for meaning... vulnerable.”

Jack laughed, leaning closer to her. “Vulnerable? Or just indecisive? The guy can’t make a choice without spiraling.”

“That’s the whole point. He’s human. Complex.” She poked Jack’s chest with a finger, her eyes gleaming with passion as she leaned in just slightly, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth.

Jack moved closer to her, crossing his arms. “I’m sorry, but Pierre’s a disaster. Andrei knows who he is. He’s a leader, a soldier, a guy who gets things done. That’s why I like him.”

“Oh, please,” Anja scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Andrei’s the epitome of a brooding, pretentious sad boy. He spends the entire book sulking, acting like everyone else is beneath him.” She paused, a sly grin spreading across her face as if she’d just had a sudden realization. “Hmm, sounds kind of familiar, actually.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, a wide smile creeping onto his lips. “Are you calling me brooding and pretentious?”

Anja held his gaze for a beat, then shook her head. “Not exactly. But yeah, that sounds like you—at least the pretentious part. You’re not really the brooding type. You’re way too cocky for that. But I can definitely see some Andrei in you.”

Jack chuckled, a small spark flickering in his chest. He couldn’t help but like a woman who had both a strong opinion and a sharp mind. “I’m confident, not pretentious. There’s a difference. Andrei’s got his life together—he knows what he wants, he has standards, and he doesn’t just drift through life hoping things will work out. You can’t say the same about Pierre. That guy spends half the book lost in his own head, making bad decisions, and hoping the universe sorts it out for him. Andrei? He takes charge. If that’s who you’re comparing me to, I’ll take it.”

Anja shook her head, amused. “Not just that. Andrei’s just a ticking time bomb. All that ‘duty’ and ‘honor’... It’s like a mask he hides behind to avoid facing his own mess. You probably like him because, let’s face it, he’s a little bit like you in that sense as well.”

“Me? A mess? I’m hurt.” Jack let out a dramatic gasp.

Anja shrugged, a wicked grin playing on her lips. “Don’t act like it’s not true. You’re just like him. A little too obsessed with being ‘the guy who’s got it all together.’”

Jack smirked, shifting his weight casually as he placed Moby Dick back on the shelf next to them. “Andrei’s confident. I’m confident. So, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Anja raised her eyebrows. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that. But at least Pierre learns. He grows. Andrei? He just spends the whole book whining until—well, spoiler alert, he dies.”

Jack threw his hands up in mock disbelief, eyes wide. “Ouch. Ruthless. The guy goes through war, heartbreak, and personal tragedy, and you just—” He waved his hand dramatically. “Done. No sympathy?”

Anja grinned, flipping the book shut with a decisive motion. “Not my fault Tolstoy made him insufferable. I stand by Pierre.”

Jack looked at her, laughing in disbelief. “I can’t believe you read War and Peace and took Pierre’s side.”

Anja shot him a playful side-eye. “Oh yeah? You read it and picked Andrei. We’re clearly both making questionable decisions here.”

“I guess we can’t buddy-read Tolstoy together, huh?” Jack chuckled, shaking his head.

Anja crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Good. I’d hate to have to explain everything to you.”

“Unbelievable.” Jack let out an exaggerated sigh, while he tucked War and Peace under his arm again, giving her a teasing look. “Alright, book snob. Since you clearly think you know everything, what’s next? Are you going to try to convince me that Anna Karenina’s actions were justified?”

Anja gasped, eyes widening. “Jack. Don’t even start.”

Shaking her head, Anja grabbed a couple of books from the shelf, and Jack did the same. With their newfound selections in hand, they made their way back to their cozy beanbags. They settled in, the quiet rustle of pages filling the space between them.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Jack flipped through War and Peace, skimming familiar passages, while Anja lost herself in a biography of one of her favorite artists. The playful banter from earlier still lingered in her mind, but as she snuck a glance at Jack, something about the way he was fully immersed in his book made her pause.

She watched him for a moment, her smile softening. There was something oddly sincere about him like this—quiet, focused, different from the cocky, fast-talking guy she was so used to.

“Huh,” she murmured, more to herself than anything. “Guess I underestimated you, Jack.”

Jack didn’t look up immediately, but a slow, lazy smirk spread across his face. “It happens,” he said, finally meeting her gaze. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

Anja rolled her eyes, but there was no real bite to it. She turned her attention back to her book, trying to focus. But every now and then, she found herself glancing up—watching as Jack absentmindedly ran a thumb over the edge of the pages, completely absorbed in his book.

Anja took a deep breath, smiling to herself as she sank deeper into the beanbag. Maybe Jack Hughes wasn’t just a pretty face after all. And maybe, just maybe, this friend date wasn’t so bad after all.

—

Weeks passed, and what started as a single friend date grew into something neither of them had quite expected. Something real and deeper. Jack started showing up at the coffee shop every day after practice, sometimes before games, sometimes after. He’d slip in quietly, pulling his hood up, and find a corner table by the window. And there he’d stay, right where Anja could see him. It was like a routine now, something familiar and comforting.

He’d sit there, watching her work, the steady hum of the café filling the space between them as he lazily flipped through a book. On quieter days, when Anja wasn’t rushing from table to table, Jack would start talking—about hockey, the latest game, or whatever TV show had caught his attention. Their conversations stretched beyond the usual small talk. They argued about politics, books, their childhood, even their biggest fears. Jack was always challenging the way she thought about things, pushing her to question what she believed. And though it sometimes annoyed her, Anja couldn’t deny that she actually enjoyed it.

She began to appreciate the complexity in him, the layers behind the cocky smile and careless attitude. It wasn’t just the light teasing that made her laugh. It was the way he could discuss some silly tv show one minute and then dive into a heated debate about the latest political news the next. And sometimes, when their conversations would die down, Jack would pull out a book, burying himself in it while Anja went about her work. They’d fall into a comfortable silence, the kind only true friends could share.

More and more, Anja found herself looking forward to seeing Jack walk in. There was something about him that made everything feel a little more relaxed.

It wasn’t long before their friendship spilled over into texts. Casual check-ins after games, long messages about something that had made them laugh, or a random book recommendation. Anja, to her own surprise, found herself enjoying it. She’d thought it would be strange, having Jack’s name constantly flashing on her phone, but it wasn’t. It was… nice. She wasn’t sure when the shift happened, but somewhere between the books they’d shared, the heated debates, and the quiet moments spent together, Jack had become a friend in a way she hadn’t expected.

And now, as she glanced over at him, sitting in his usual spot, flipping through pages of Inferno by Dante, she couldn’t help but smile. 

Then, as she turned to take an order at the counter, she heard laughter from across the café. She didn’t even need to look to know what was happening. Jack, as usual, had charmed a group of older ladies sitting near the pastry case.

“Oh, come on, Marge,” he said, grinning at one of them as he leaned casually on the counter. “You can’t tell me you weren’t a heartbreaker back in the day. I bet you had all the boys lined up.”

Marge, a widow in her seventies who came in every morning with her two best friends, waved him off with a playful scoff. “Oh, hush, you flirt. You’re just trying to sweet-talk me into buying you a cookie.”

Jack gasped dramatically, but his confident smile was still on his face. “Marge, I would never!”

Anja, overhearing the entire exchange as she filled a coffee cup, tried—and failed—to stifle a laugh. She bit her lip, shaking her head as Jack continued his antics, effortlessly charming the older women like he was born to do it.

But then, when his gaze flickered back to Anja, something changed. The easy, flirtatious grin softened. His shoulders relaxed. He still had that effortless confidence, that natural charm, but when it was just the two of them, it was different. He didn’t need to perform. He let Anja see something deeper—something quieter, more thoughtful.

She walked past his table, setting down a fresh cup of coffee without him even asking. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” she murmured, shaking her head.

Jack just smirked up at her, his voice dropping into something softer, something just for her. “Yeah, but you like it.”

Anja rolled her eyes, but she didn’t argue. Because maybe, just maybe, he was right.

– 

Jack hated these nights.

Another brutal loss. Another night of feeling like the weight of the entire team was sitting on his chest. With Nico out, the pressure had been on him to step up, to push the team to a win. And he tried. He fucking tried. But it wasn’t happening.

And to make matters worse, the apartment wasn’t exactly peaceful.

A muffled whimper filtered through the wall. Then another. Then—Jesus Christ.

Jack clenched his jaw and rolled onto his stomach, shoving his pillow over his head as if that would help. Spoiler: it didn’t.

Luke and Thea were home. And happy. And apparently, they had absolutely no concept of thin walls.

And maybe Jack was just being petty, but it was hard not to feel... left out. Especially when he remembered how he’d been on with Anja these past few weeks.

Jack had never experienced a true friendship with a woman, but Anja was different. From the start, she made it clear that she only saw him as a friend—and that was fine with him. At first, he struggled to accept it, but over time, things shifted. They grew closer, spending hours together, laughing, talking, and sharing moments. Jack found himself explaining the New Jersey Devils to her—a tough task, especially since she was a Bruins fan and knew next to nothing about his team. Patience wasn’t his strong suit, and the fact that she didn’t seem to care made it even harder to keep his cool. Still, he couldn’t help but respect that she wasn’t one of those girls who swooned over him. It was... refreshing.

But still... there were nights, like tonight, when it hit him.

He couldn’t deny it—he was drawn to her. He loved their friendship, no question, but deep down, there was always that something more. That unspoken tension, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to be acknowledged. He wasn’t ready to face it. Jack didn’t do love. It was just sexual tension, he told himself. It couldn’t be anything more. After all, Anja was a beautiful, young woman, and he was a ridiculously good-looking athlete. Of course, they had chemistry. But that’s all it was. 

And then there were nights like this, where his mind wandered off course, and instead of texting her—because that would be weird—he went back to his old habits. Hook-ups. Quick distractions. Just something to get his mind off things.

So, he picked up his phone and fired off a few texts. It was easier this way, he told himself. 

It wasn’t like he wanted anything serious with anyone else. He wasn’t looking for that. But sometimes, he just needed a reminder that he could still get attention from people. He still had that pull. Even if Anja didn’t feel the same way.

He knew what he was doing wasn’t exactly healthy. But it was easier than dealing with the things that really mattered.

Five weeks since he’d met her. Four weeks since she had completely turned his world upside down. But that wasn’t her fault. He was the one who couldn’t seem to figure things out.

His phone buzzed almost immediately. But it wasn’t the message he was expecting.

A: Hey, Prince Charming.

Jack smirked, running a hand through his hair as he read the text. The nickname had started after their first friend date, when she’d looked at him with that amused glint in her eye and said he reminded her of a fairytale prince—all looks, maybe not completely dumb, but let’s be honest, not that smart either. He should’ve been offended, but for some reason, he fucking loved it when she called him that.

Another buzz.

A: So, that was a really shitty game. You sucked today.

Jack barked out a laugh. Jesus. He loved that this woman didn’t hold back. Everyone else always tried to phrase it in a way that wouldn't bruise his ego. Not Anja. She came at him full force.

J: Wow. Don’t hold back or anything.

A: I don’t do sugarcoating. You were bad. Like, painfully bad.

J: Yeah, yeah. I know. Thanks for the reminder.

A: Anytime, Hughes.

Jack shook his head, still smiling as he stared at the screen. His other texts—the ones he’d sent out looking for a distraction—were sitting there, unread. He didn’t even feel like checking them anymore. Instead, he rolled onto his side, typing out another response.

J: So what, you just text me to roast me, or are you actually gonna make me feel better?

A: Oh, I was getting there. You’re a disaster, but at least you’re a pretty disaster.

J: Pretty disaster, huh? Wow, really boosting my confidence here.

Jack rolled his eyes, but a small smile spread across his face.

A: You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do. You looked so sad out there today, I felt bad for you.

J: I don’t need pity. I need sleep.

He ran a hand through his hair, irritation creeping back in. The game had been brutal, and now he was staring at the ceiling again, the exhaustion weighing on him. Tomorrow’s practice would be hell if he didn’t get some sleep. His body was already aching from the game, and now this.

A: Oh, so now you want sympathy? Make up your mind, Hughes.

J: I’m just saying, I’m exhausted. And I’ve got thin walls here—Luke and Thea are having the time of their life, and I can’t escape it. I’ve tried everything. Nothing works.

A: Ah, poor thing. Just not jealous?

J: Trust me, the last thing I want to do right now is stick my dick in anybody. I don’t even know how Lukey does it. Guess being young helps… Maybe Thea was right about that stamina thing...

A: Jesus Jack! You really don’t have a filter. TMI! But…Well… I mean, if you need a place to crash, my couch is always available.

J: Wait, seriously?

Jack paused, blinking at his phone. He wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or serious. But there was a part of him that was already considering it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a night to himself that didn’t end with him staring at the ceiling.

A: Yeah, I’m serious. We’re friends. Even if this is painful for me to admit. And I live basically 10 minutes from you. Just come over.

J: …Wait, you actually want me to crash at your place?

A: Just don’t make me regret this, Prince Charming!

Jack chuckled. This… this was definitely unexpected.

J: Alright, fine. I’ll take you up on the offer. Thanks, Anja!

—

Jack stepped into Anja’s apartment, every muscle in his body groaning in protest.

His legs ached from the game, his mind was a chaotic mess, but right now, all he could think about was sleep. Real sleep. Not the restless, half-conscious tossing and turning that had been his last few nights. He needed to crash—hard.

And then he saw her.

Anja stood in the soft glow of the apartment, wearing loose, dark pajamas, her hair twisted up in a messy bun. No makeup, no effort—just her. Effortlessly beautiful, untouched by the outside world.

Jack’s brain stalled for a second.

How the hell was she this attractive without even trying?

He shook the thought away. It was exhaustion, right? Had to be. She was just… Anja. He was too damn tired to think straight.

So, Jack did what any man on the brink of collapse would do—he went straight for the bed, flopping face-first onto the mattress without asking.

Behind him, Anja leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. “You know the rules. Couch.”

Jack groaned into the pillow. “Anja. Please. My body is broken. My soul is hanging by a thread. And that couch? That couch is where souls go to die.”

Anja snorted. “You’ll survive.”

Jack rolled onto his side, his eyes heavy with tiredness, but he still managed to give her a slow, teasing glance. "You’re seriously gonna make me crash out there when there’s a whole king-sized bed right here?" He patted the mattress like it was the most inviting thing in the world. "Come on, that’s practically a crime against humanity."

Anja lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. “You are humanity’s crime.”

Jack grinned. “Thank you.”

She sighed, rubbing her temple like she was already regretting every life decision that had led to this moment.

Jack pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Alright. Let’s make a deal. I’ll do anything. Literally anything. Name it.”

Anja smirked. “Anything?”

Jack nodded solemnly.

“I want—” she paused for dramatic effect “—a New York Rangers jersey.”

Jack’s face twisted in disbelief. “Okay, that’s just plain evil, darling.”

Anja smirked, knowing full well how much Jack loathed the Rangers. Her hockey knowledge was avarage, but she was well aware of the hostility between Jack’s team and their biggest rival.

Jack exhaled in frustration, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright, new offer: I’ll make you breakfast.”

Anja let out a short laugh. “You can’t cook, Jacky. That’s basically a threat, not an offer.”

“Incorrect,” Jack said, giving her a playful look as he pointed at her.“I can cook. I just choose not to.”

Anja stared at him, unamused.

“Okay, fine,” Jack groaned, his hands raised in mock surrender. “I can make breakfast. Still counts.”

“That’s just eggs. And even those are awful,” Anja remarked dryly.

Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, still technically breakfast.”

“Anja,” he said, voice grave. “I am a man at his lowest. My body is failing me, my will to live is fading, and you—” he pointed dramatically at her “—have the power to save me.”

Anja blinked at him, unimpressed. “You are so dramatic.”

Jack pressed a hand to his chest. “I prefer passionate.”

She rolled her eyes again, exhaling like this whole act was physically draining her, and for a second, Jack thought she was going to send him to the couch anyway. But then she let out a long, resigned sigh, shaking her head like she already regretted it.

“One night,” she said, pointing at him sharply. “And no funny business.”

Jack shot up like he’d just been given a second lease on life, already pulling off his hoodie as he practically dove under the covers. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Anja muttered something under her breath about regretting this already, flicking off the light as she climbed into bed beside him.

Jack exhaled as his body sank into the mattress, tension bleeding from his muscles. But just as his brain started to shut down, he caught it—her scent.

That unmistakable mix of orange and peppermint.

It was everywhere. In the sheets, in the pillows, in the air itself, wrapping around him and settling into his skin like a slow, creeping warmth he hadn’t been expecting.

His body relaxed instantly, but his mind? His mind did the opposite.

He wasn’t sure why this felt different. Why she felt different. Why, after all the nights spent in beds that weren’t his, this—lying next to Anja, stealing her blankets, breathing in the scent of orange and peppermint—was the only thing that had ever felt right.

He hated how much he liked it.

Jack turned his head toward her, voice low, teasing. “You know, if you let me stay in this bed again, I’ll compose an original poem just for you.”

Anja groaned. “Shut up, Hughes!”

Jack grinned. “A sonnet, actually. Or maybe a haiku—short and sweet. You know, something like—” He cleared his throat, pretending to get serious before continuing, “Shall I compare thee to—”

Anja rolled over, cutting him off by slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Enough,” she murmured, her voice light but warm, with a hint of something almost... hesitant.

Jack blinked up at her, his lips still pressed against her palm. The room felt different all of a sudden, as if the air had thickened. Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe something else entirely, but the shift between them was unmistakable.

Neither of them moved for a moment.

Jack could feel the heat of her skin against his face, and saw how her breathing slowed just a fraction, like she had only just realized how close they were. He should say something, crack a joke, break the silence. But for once, he didn’t.

And then—because he was Jack—he wiggled his eyebrows.

Anja blinked at him, like she was snapping out of a daze, and pulled her hand away, rolling onto her side. “You’re such a pain.”

Jack chuckled, stealing half the blanket. “And yet, here I am, still in this bed.”

Anja rolled her eyes, pulling her blanket back. “You’re lucky I’m not making you sleep on the couch. And honestly, how do you know what a haiku is? You didn’t even know that Germany and Switzerland were two different countries.”

Jack groaned, but the smile never left his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head slightly. “I’m misunderstood,” he muttered, like he was truly burdened by it.

Anja laughed softly, the sound light and warm in the dim room. “Yeah, the real mystery, Jack Hughes. You’re dumb enough to confuse countries, but you’re cultured enough to drop haiku on me.”

“Hey,” Jack said, lifting his head and squinting at her with a playful grin, “I’m a complex man. Who loves literature.”

She rolled her eyes once more, but a smile played at the corners of her lips. “And that’s exactly what makes you so damn annoying.”

Jack smirked, sinking back into the pillows. “Glad to see you recognize my complexity.”

Anja sighed, still facing away, though Jack could feel the faint shake of her shoulders as she tried to stifle a laugh. “You really think you’ve won, don’t you?”

Jack relaxed into the bed, the warmth of her body and the soft sound of her laughter soothing him. “Oh, I know I have.”

Anja scoffed, but Jack could hear the smile in her voice. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Jack smirked, his eyes fluttering closed. “Oh, I will.”

—

Jack sat at the kitchen table, staring down at his coffee like it owed him money. His head was pounding, and the goddamn world seemed way too fucking chipper for his liking. His body was sore as hell from practice, but it was nothing compared to the frustration buzzing through his brain.

“You’re a ray of sunshine today, Jacky,” Thea chirped as she walked in, pressing a kiss to Luke’s head. Of course, Luke had to shoot her a goofy grin, like he was a damn golden retriever. Ugh. Disgusting.

“Shut up, pedo,” Jack mumbled, trying to sip his coffee without gagging. He didn’t care if his tone was off. He wasn’t here for their bullshit today.

Luke rolled his eyes, totally unfazed. “What the hell happened to you, man? You were all full of energy this morning—like, bouncing off the walls—and now you're just... this.” He gestured at Jack, who was hunched over the table like he was already dead inside.

Jack snorted, clearly not in the mood for a pep talk. “Maybe I’m just tired of people asking me why I’m an asshole. Get a new hobby.”

Yeah, Luke was right. He knew that. But honestly? He had way bigger problems right now. Like, Anja.

This morning had started off like some cheesy rom-com, and Jack was seriously starting to panic about it. He woke up, and there she was—her small, warm body tangled up in his, all soft and perfect. For a split second, he actually thought about kissing her—maybe snuggling, maybe even making her coffee. What the hell? When had he become the type of guy who fantasized about making coffee for someone? What was next, brunch? Fucking brunch?!

But, of course, it wasn’t until he was changing out of his hockey gear, post-practice, that he realized what a weird thought that was. He wasn’t exactly known for catching on to things quickly. He knew his flaws. But here he was, practically having a meltdown over the idea of wanting to snuggle.

And the worst part? The morning had been way too perfect for his comfort. Like, Anja didn’t even make the cuddling weird. Which, on any other day, would be a blessing. But now? He was thinking about her—and not in a “she’s a cool, funny friend” way. No, this was different. This was “I just woke up in her bed and I’m wondering if we should get matching coffee mugs” levels of insane.

They’d woken up, did the lazy morning cuddle thing—because apparently, Jack had no self-control—then they’d grabbed coffee. He’d cracked a few jokes about the news, she’d laughed like it was just another morning. And, damn it, it felt so normal. Too normal.

And then came the worst part: he kissed her on the cheek when he left. Like, a peck. And she blushed. She fucking blushed and wished him a good day like she was some picture-perfect, Hallmark-movie wife.

Did he just call her a wife? Oh, hell no. That couldn’t be a thing. He wasn’t ready for that.

He gulped down more coffee like it was going to fix this internal meltdown. The burn hit his chest, but the panic was still there. He had to shake it off. This was stupid. Anja was just a friend—no, not just a friend, she was a friend who he happened to share a bed with... and now apparently, his feelings? What the hell was happening to him?

Jack swore under his breath, rubbing his forehead. This wasn’t him. He was the guy who had no problems keeping things casual, no strings, no feelings. But now? Now he was screwing up his own rulebook. Anja is a friend…just a friend!

Jack sighed dramatically, letting his frustration hang in the air like a thick cloud. “Look, I don’t know what the hell is going on, alright? But I feel like a goddamn idiot. I’m not supposed to be thinking about this. I should be pissed about my game, but instead..." He rubbed his forehead, hoping it would somehow stop the mental chaos.

Luke, ever the observant little shit, raised an eyebrow. “So this is about her? Anja, right?”

Jack shot him a look that could’ve melted steel. “Well, no, I’m talking about the weather, Luke. Of course it’s about Anja. Who else would it be?” He paused, then—BAM—his brain hit him with a sudden revelation. Wait a second—this was actually Luke’s fault. “Actually, this is your fault, you know. If you and Thea weren’t busy mating like a pair of rabbits, I wouldn’t have had to leave the house yesterday!”

Luke’s smirk was already five miles wide. “Man, just admit it. You’re into her. You’re all mopey and pissy because you’ve got no idea what to do with it.”

Jack glared at him like he just insulted his entire existence. “Fuck off. I don’t do feelings. And I sure as hell don’t do snuggling.”

He immediately slapped his hand over his mouth, realizing he'd maybe over-shared just a bit.

Thea grabbed an apple from the fridge and plopped herself down on Luke’s lap “Snuggling? Snuggling? Oh, Jack, you are so gone.” She bit into the apple dramatically, her eyes dancing with mischief.

“You sure about that ‘no snuggle’ rule?”Luke teased, clearly enjoying the moment, as he lightly traced circles on Thea's exposed hip.

“Oh, Luke, do you remember what Jack said to Quinn?” Thea tilted her head, changing her voice to mock Jack. “‘Who said anything about it ‘meaning’ anything? I’m just here for the ride, bro.’” She smirked. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you.”

Jack groaned. “Oh, God, please, feel free to enjoy my suffering. It’s what you’re best at.”

Thea clutched her chest like she was watching the best drama unfold right in front of her. “Oh, I’m living for this. You know, those moments that are so painfully awkward and secondhand embarrassing that they keep you entertained for weeks? Jack Hughes falling in love—now that’s the kind of content I’ll be replaying in my head forever.”

Jack shot her a glare. He knew exactly what she was referencing. That was his line—the same one he threw at Thea when he caught her sneaking out of Luke’s room. Yeah, maybe he’d been a little too smug about it at the time. And sure, he knew she’d get her revenge eventually.

But honestly? Making his brother and his date uncomfortable had been way too much fun.

Jack would love to say he’d learned his lesson.

But he was way too much of an asshole for that.

“Yeah, yeah, enjoy every moment of this,” Jack grumbled, grabbing the last of his coffee and standing up. “Because this will be short. I’m just gonna figure my shit out. No more cuddling, no more kissing her on the cheek like I’m some goddamn romantic. I’m not built for this.” He slammed his mug down with a little more force than necessary. “I’ll find some random girl tonight, bang her, and get over this. Problem solved.”

Luke just shook his head, his curly hair bouncing with the motion, falling in soft waves across his forehead. “You know you’re not fooling anyone, right?”

Jack shot him an icy glare. “Shut up, Mr. Pedo Lover.” He practically growled as he stomped over to the sink, banging the mug down.

Thea and Luke exchanged a look, their smiles knowing. They didn’t even need to say anything, and it pissed Jack off even more. He muttered under his breath as he turned to leave the kitchen, needing to get away before he said something even dumber. But in the back of his mind, his thoughts kept running. Fuck. What the hell was he even doing?

—

The music pounded through the bar, a steady, brain-numbing beat. Jack Hughes barely noticed, his attention fixed on his beer as he took a slow sip.

He was in trouble.

Not because of the game. Not because of a fight. But because, for the first time in his life, he couldn’t find a single fucking woman he wanted to take home.

And that was a problem.

A huge problem.

This Sunday night was supposed to be easy. A big win finally, a few drinks, a quick fuck. No strings, no thoughts, no mess. That was the routine. That was him. And yet, here he was, staring into his beer like it held the answers to his fucked-up brain.

It was Nico’s slap on his back that snapped him out of it.

“Come on, man! What the hell’s up with you? You’ve turned down, what? Ten girls already?”

“Four,” Jack muttered.

Nico laughed, shaking his head. “That’s not like you, Jacky boy. You sick or something?”

Jack grunted, smacking Nico’s hand away when he pressed it to his forehead. He took another long swig of beer, hoping the alcohol would do something—blur the edges, dull the noise, drown out her.

Because that was the real problem, wasn’t it?

Anja.

The fucking Anja Syndrome.

Every girl, every goddamn girl, he measured against her. And every single one of them came up short.

Too blonde. Too tall. Too high-pitched. Too weird with her fucking drink.

It was bullshit.

Jack never gave a shit before. He didn’t care if they were tall or short, blonde or brunette. If they had a body and were willing, that was enough. And yeah, he knew that made him sound like a dick, but he was 23, a pro athlete, and he’d be an idiot not to enjoy the perks.

So why the fuck was he sitting here, empty-handed, second-guessing his entire goddamn existence?

“Come on, Jack,” Bas nudged him, nodding toward the bar. “That little blonde has been eye-fucking you all night. Give her some mercy.”

Jack glanced over.

Petite. A little too skinny, but she had pretty greenish-brown eyes and a face guys would probably call “cute.” She was fine.

She should be perfect.

But she wasn’t her.

Oh, fuck off.

No more of this shit.

This girl was hot, and she was ready to go. She was exactly what he needed to snap himself out of this bullshit.

“Perfect,” Jack muttered. Ignoring his teammates’ laughter, he downed the rest of his beer and pushed himself to his feet.

With long, confident strides, he crossed the bar, slipping back into the guy he used to be—the one who didn’t overthink, didn’t feel. He flashed his best smirk, the one that melted panties before he even said a word.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he drawled, voice dropping into that low, rough tone that always did the trick.

The girl beamed. “Hey! Took you long enough.” She giggled, the sound high and grating.

Jack forced a smirk. “You know how it is—can’t ditch the team right away.”

He didn’t care about the small talk.

Didn’t want it.

He just needed this to work.

“So… wanna head to the back with me?” He made sure his tone left no room for misinterpretation.

The girl’s eyes sparkled. “Of course.”

That was all he needed.

He took her wrist, weaving through the crowd until they reached the back exit. He’d spotted the terrace earlier—quiet, dim, completely empty. Perfect for what he needed.

And the second the terrace door swung shut behind them, Jack wasted no time.

He grabbed the girl by the waist, pulling her flush against him, his mouth crashing onto hers with a force that had always been enough. His hands slid down her back, gripping, squeezing, searching for that familiar spark—that fire that always ignited the second he got a girl alone.

But nothing came.

Not even a flicker.

The girl moaned into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair, pressing herself against him like she wanted to be devoured. It should have been hot. It should have sent a jolt straight to his dick, setting off that automatic chain reaction his body had perfected over the years.

But there was nothing.

Nothing except a creeping, cold frustration curling in his gut.

No. No, this was just in his head. He needed to push through it. He could push through it.

Jack deepened the kiss, tilting her head back as his hands roamed lower, his body pressing her into the brick wall behind them. He rolled his hips forward, desperate for his body to wake the fuck up, desperate for the heat to kick in, for the hunger to return.

Still nothing.

His pulse pounded—not with arousal, but with something dangerously close to panic.

What the fuck was happening to him?

The girl let out a high-pitched giggle, threading her fingers down his chest, her nails scraping against his shirt as she reached for his belt.

"Let me take care of you," she whispered, voice dripping with suggestion.

Jack flinched.

His stomach turned.

It wasn’t her voice.

It wasn’t her hands.

He sucked in a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut, willing himself to snap out of it. He could fix this. He just needed to focus.

He dropped his head to the girl's neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her throat, hands gripping her hips, fingers digging in. He sucked at her pulse point, dragging his teeth over her skin in the way that usually made a girl melt against him.

She gasped, arching into him, nails raking down his back.

Jack felt nothing.

His body was like a fucking corpse.

Dead.

Unresponsive.

Refusing to play along.

And then, before he could stop it, before he could shove it back down where it belonged—her face flashed in his mind.

Anja.

That smug little smirk she got when she knew she was right. The way she tilted her head when she was listening to him talk, like he was the most interesting person in the world. The fire in her eyes when she called him on his bullshit.

The way her body had felt against his that one night when they slept in the same bed.

The way he’d spent every second since aching to feel it again..

Jack froze.

His entire body locked up, his breathing sharp and erratic.

The girl noticed immediately.

"You okay?" she murmured, pressing a kiss to his jaw, hands still working at his belt. "Just relax, baby."

Jack jerked back like he’d been burned.

Baby.

She wasn’t her.

She would never be her.

And for the first time in his life, that mattered.

"Fuck," Jack breathed, running a shaky hand through his hair.

The girl frowned. "What?"

He swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. "I— I can't. I— This isn’t gonna happen."

Her expression flickered with confusion, then shifted into irritation. "Oh, come on. You just need a little—"

She reached for him again, her hand slipping down toward his belt, but Jack caught her wrist before she could get any further.

"No." His voice was firm. Sharper than he intended.

She yanked her hand back like he’d slapped her, eyes narrowing. "Seriously?" She let out a harsh laugh, crossing her arms. "What, you bring me out here just to waste my fucking time?"

Jack exhaled heavily, raking both hands through his hair. His chest felt too tight, like his ribs were closing in on his lungs.

"You’re not her," he muttered, his voice raw, barely above a whisper. He shook his head, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Fuck. You are not her."

And that was the problem.

Her gaze darkened with annoyance. "Oh, so it's me that’s the problem?" She scoffed. "Classic. Maybe next time don’t bite off more than you can chew, Hughes."

And with that, she spun on her heel, shoving open the terrace door and storming back into the bar.

Jack didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

His back hit the brick wall as he slid down, knees bent, head tipped back against the cold surface. His breaths were uneven, his entire body wound too tight, but still—nothing.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his fists clenching uselessly in his lap.

His body had never betrayed him before.

Never failed him.

And now?

Now, it was screaming the truth at him.

The truth he’d been trying to ignore for weeks.

He didn’t just want Anja.

It was worse than that.

She was the only one who fucking existed.

And he was so. Completely. Fucked.

—

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, still trying to make sense of what had just happened. The girl in the back. His body refusing to cooperate. The cold panic that had washed over him like a wave when he realized it wasn’t just that he didn’t want her—he didn’t want anyone. Not unless it was her.

Anja.

That thought hit him again. Like a sucker punch straight to the gut.

He hadn’t realized how deep this shit went until now. He’d spent weeks trying to deny it, trying to make himself believe that it was just a phase. That he could get over it. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t because Anja wasn’t just someone he was into. She was the one. She was it.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. His mind was too loud. He didn’t want to talk to anyone else. Not right now. Not when his entire body was screaming one thing.

Her.

He reached the street and stood there for a second, trying to get his bearings. The world around him felt off-kilter. Everything looked distant, like he wasn’t actually here, like he was floating in some fucked-up dream.

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, pulling his phone out. He tapped through his contacts and hit the taxi app without a second thought. He needed to get to her. Now.

His finger hovered over the ‘Confirm’ button before he pressed it without hesitation. He didn’t even care if he was drunk—he couldn’t stay here, couldn’t keep sitting with the fucking mess in his head.

He could already feel the buzz from the alcohol, the remnants of the beers he’d downed earlier, swirling in his blood. But it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered except getting to her.

The ride felt endless. The city lights blurred outside the cab window as he stared at his phone, willing it to stop feeling like it was vibrating in his hand. His mind kept replaying the images of Anja—the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, the sound of her voice when she laughed at his dumb jokes. God, even the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating made him want to crawl out of his skin.

By the time the taxi pulled up to her building, Jack didn’t know if he was angry, frustrated, or just scared shitless. Probably all of the above.

He handed the driver a few bills without even looking at the change, already pulling the door open and stepping out before the car had even come to a full stop. He jogged up the steps of her building, his hands clammy, stomach twisted in knots.

When he reached her door, he didn’t ring the doorbell. He didn’t wait. He just raised his hand and banged on the wood, the sound echoing in the stillness of the hallway. He felt like he might pass out from the tension in his body, the anticipation clenching his chest tighter with every passing second.

It felt like forever before he heard the sound of footsteps. And then the door creaked open.

After a few seconds, he heard the shuffle of footsteps, and then the door cracked open to reveal a very unimpressed, very sleepy-looking Anja. Fuck she was beautiful. 

She blinked at him. “Jack?” Her voice was groggy, her hair a mess. “It’s one in the morning.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said quickly. “I—I needed to talk to you.”

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Are you dying?”

“No.”

“Is someone else dying?”

“No.”

She squinted at him. “Are you drunk?”

Jack hesitated. “...A little.”

Anja let out a dramatic sigh and leaned against the doorframe. “Alright, go on then. What’s so important that you had to wake me up in the middle of the night?”

Jack opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

Then ran a hand through his hair because shit, this was harder than he thought.

“Okay, so—” He exhaled sharply. “Something happened tonight, and I think I’m broken.”

Anja raised an eyebrow. “Broken?”

“Like, physically broken.” He gestured vaguely to himself. “Like… I had a girl—a very hot girl, by the way—practically throwing herself at me, and nothing. Not a damn thing.” He pointed at his own chest. “My body just—betrayed me.”

Anja stared at him for a second. Then, to his absolute horror—she burst out laughing.

Like, full-on, body-shaking laughter.

Jack scowled. “Okay, rude.”

“Oh my god.” She clutched the doorframe for support, laughing so hard she nearly lost her balance. “Jack, I swear, if you woke me up just to tell me you couldn’t get it up, I’m slamming this door in your face.”

“It’s not about that!” Jack groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Well, it is, but it’s also not.” He sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Look, I was with this girl, right? And she was perfect—like, objectively, guys would kill to be with her. And I tried, I really tried—”

Anja snorted. “Poor girl.”

“—but the whole time, all I could think about was you.”

That shut her up.

Anja’s smile froze, her laughter dying in her throat.

Jack swallowed hard. “That’s the problem, Anja. It’s you. You’ve ruined me.” He pointed at her like she was some kind of criminal. “I used to be great at this. No thoughts, just vibes. But now? Now, I go out, I find a hot girl, I do my thing—except I can’t do my thing, because all I can think about is how she doesn’t laugh like you, or talk like you, or smell like you, or—fuck, Anja—hell, even the way she breathed just annoyed the hell out of me.”

Anja blinked. “...The way she breathed?”

Jack threw his hands in the air. “Yeah! Stupid, right?! But it mattered! And you wanna know why? Because she wasn’t you.” He let out a frustrated noise, pacing in a small circle before turning back to her. “I fell, Anja. Hard. And I don’t even know what the fuck to do with it, because I’ve never—” He stopped, exhaling shakily. His voice dropped, raw and unguarded. “I’ve never been in love before.”

She stared at him, eyes wide, lips parted slightly like she wasn’t sure if she should laugh again or take him seriously.

Jack exhaled loudly, raking both hands through his hair. “So, yeah. I’m here. I’m standing on your doorstep like a fucking idiot, telling you that I’m gone for you. And I don’t even know what I expect you to do with that information, but I couldn’t not tell you, because keeping it inside was making me lose my goddamn mind.”

Silence stretched between them.

Jack’s pulse thundered in his ears as he watched Anja process everything he just blurted out like an absolute lunatic.

Then, slowly, she started smiling again.

And then—yep, there it was—she was laughing again.

Jack groaned. “Oh my god, Anja, I’m baring my soul here!”

“I know,” she gasped between laughs. “That’s what makes it so funny!” She wiped her eyes. “Jack Hughes, king of hookups, showing up at my door at one in the morning to tell me he’s emotionally constipated and in love with me? This is gold.”

Jack scowled, crossing his arms. “I take it back. I don’t like you anymore.”

Anja just grinned, stepping forward until she was standing right in front of him. “Too late, idiot.”

Jack’s breath hitched.

She was close now. So close that he could see the tiny freckles on her nose, the way her lips curled just slightly at the corners like she was still fighting laughter.

Then, before he could say anything else, she reached up and flicked his forehead.

“Ow,” Jack muttered, rubbing the spot.

Anja smirked. “That’s what you get for waking me up.”

And then—finally—she tugged him down by the collar of his hoodie and kissed him.

Jack froze for half a second before his brain caught up.

Then?

Then, he kissed her back.

This kiss was different. It wasn’t rushed or uncertain. It wasn’t a fleeting thing. This was everything he’d been missing, everything he didn’t know he wanted. The warmth of her lips, the softness of her touch, and the unmistakable scent of oranges that clung to her skin—it was intoxicating. He couldn’t breathe without it. Without her.

When they finally pulled apart, Anja’s smile was wide, like she’d just won something precious.

Jack blinked at her, heart pounding. “So, just to clarify… you like me too, right? This isn’t just, like, a pity kiss?”

Anja rolled her eyes, but the affection in her gaze was clear. “Yes, dumbass. I like you.”

Jack let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his entire body sagging with relief. “Oh, thank God.”

She laughed again, the sound like music to his ears, shaking her head as she pulled him inside.

And just like that, Jack Hughes—the guy who swore he'd never let anyone in—was completely, hopelessly lost.

—

It took Jack three months to finally introduce Anja to Luke and Thea. Not like he didn’t want to shout it out to the world the very next morning after his drunk love confession that Anja had said yes to be his girlfriend. The thing was, saying those words had felt strange, almost surreal for Jack. He didn’t remember the last time he’d had a real relationship—maybe back in high school? But high school felt like a lifetime ago. And back then, relationships were fleeting, brief. Nothing like what he felt for Anja.

But after meeting Anja, everything started to feel different. Jack couldn’t stop thinking about how he felt when he kissed her, when she smiled at him, when they were together, just the two of them. It wasn’t about sex, and that was the biggest shock to him. Every relationship he’d had before had always been tied up in physicality—chasing the high of the next touch, the next kiss, the next night. But with Anja, things were slower. The chemistry was undeniable, but they didn’t rush into anything. They took their time. And Jack was fine with that. 

So when Jack finally brought Anja around Luke and Thea, it felt like a milestone. They immediately clicked with her and both of them could see how well Anja handled Jack’s sometimes overly confident, sassy nature. Anja, in her own calm, collected way, knew how to ground Jack. She didn’t put up with his antics, but she didn’t try to change him either. They balanced each other out perfectly. Jack made Anja more confident, and she made him more humble. The shift in him was noticeable—his arrogance softened when she was around.

Things between Jack and Anja were effortless, natural. They’d fallen into a rhythm—hanging out with Luke and Thea, then slipping into quiet nights together. They’d binge-watch their favorite shows, wander around town grabbing food at random spots. But as their connection deepened, so did the tension—the unspoken feelings Jack wasn’t ready to confront.

Anja had made it clear she wasn’t in any rush, but Jack noticed a flicker of impatience in her over time. And he understood why. But for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to rush things. He didn’t want to mess up what they had by diving into something physical, especially after everything he’d been through. Every other relationship had been based on attraction, and they’d all ended in disappointment. This time, he wanted something real. He wanted something that could last. He cared too much about Anja to risk ruining it.

Then came that night. After a double movie date with Luke and Thea, the evening wrapped up with everyone saying their goodbyes. Anja had laughed with Thea all night—joking and teasing like they’d known each other for years. Jack watched them, captivated by how easy and natural it all was. And more than once, he found himself just staring at Anja, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky to have someone like her in his life.

As Luke and Thea headed off to their room, Anja turned to Jack, her smile soft but knowing. She stepped into his space, her body warm against his as she slid under his chin, leaning into his chest. Jack’s breath caught, his heart rate picking up. The scent of her perfume only made everything more intense.

"Hi," she said, her voice low, playful.

"Hi, baby," Jack responded, his smile matching hers, but there was something more beneath the surface. He brushed a strand of her hair from her face, his fingers grazing her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. She was up to something.

Anja’s fingertip traced small, slow circles on his neck—light, teasing touches that were enough to make his body respond before his mind could catch up. "So, I was thinking..." she said, her voice filled with mischief.

"Dangerous thing to do," Jack teased, his voice rougher than he intended, heat already pooling in his chest. He could feel his body weakening.

Anja giggled, hitting him lightly on the chest. "Shut up, you."

Jack grinned, but his thoughts scattered. Her touch was like fire, and it was hard to think straight with her so close.

"Can I stay the night?" she asked, her voice soft, but there was an edge to it now—something more vulnerable, something Jack couldn’t ignore. "I’ve missed you these last couple of days. Your schedule’s been all over the place, and I’ve been working late shifts... It’d be nice to just snuggle with you. You know, wake up next to you."

Jack’s brain short-circuited. The thought of waking up beside her, of having her close, overwhelmed him. Just the way she said it—her words carrying something deeper—made his heart race. He couldn’t focus on anything else. She knew exactly what she was doing. The sly smile on her lips, the gleam in her eyes—it all made it clear she wasn’t just asking to stay. She was asking for something more.

Jack kissed her temple—soft, quick—before answering, his voice unsteady, without thinking, “Sure, Jaja. That sounds amazing.”

"Thanks, baby," she said lightly, almost singing the words. "I’ll just grab one of your T-shirts for PJs and take a quick shower."

Before Jack could even process it, Anja jumped up from his lap, leaving him sitting there alone, his mind racing. She was leaving him spinning, and he had no idea how to catch up. He tried to steady himself, but his thoughts were already scattered, caught between what he wanted and what he was afraid of.

“Minx,” Jack murmured under his breath, leaning back into the couch, running a hand through his hair. He knew exactly what she was doing, but he wasn’t ready to play along—not yet. Anja deserved more than a rushed moment while his brother and his girlfriend were just down the hall.

Still, the thought of her in his T-shirt, of her curled up beside him, made it hard to resist.

—

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to think about anything else. Hockey stats. The weather. The existential dread of taxes.

Then the bathroom door clicked open.

Jack’s head snapped up.

Anja stepped out, bathed in the soft, golden glow of the bedside lamp. Her damp hair cascaded over her shoulders, darkened from the water, strands sticking to her collarbone. His breath stalled in his chest as his gaze drifted lower, catching on the oversized white T-shirt she’d chosen.

His T-shirt.

The fabric was old, worn thin from years of washing, clinging just enough to show the shape of her body. It barely covered her thighs, teasing at modesty—but when she moved, the dim light made the cotton damn near see-through. And under that shirt…nothing. Not even a pantie.

Jack’s grip on his phone tightened. Hard.

She knew what she was doing.

Anja smirked, catching the way his dark eyes flickered over her before he forced them back up. The way his chest rose and fell just a little too fast. She crossed the room slowly, stepping onto the bed, crawling toward him with deliberate slowness. Her fingers traced over his bare arm, featherlight, enough to make his breath hitch.

“You know,” she murmured, tilting her head, “I could have brought my own pajamas.” Her smirk widened. “But this just felt… better.”

Jack swallowed hard, his back pressing against the headboard like it could somehow create space between them. He needed to slow this down. He needed to say something—anything—to keep himself in check.

“Anja…” His voice was low, rough, a warning.

She didn’t let him finish.

Curling up beside him, she let her lips graze his jawline, barely a whisper of contact. Jack went still, every muscle in his body wound tight. Her breath was warm against his skin, her presence intoxicating, impossible to ignore.

“Relax, Hughes,” she teased. “I know what I want.”

Jack exhaled sharply, his hands flexing at his sides. He wanted to touch her. Badly. But if he did, there’d be no going back.

Anja’s fingers slid under the hem of his shirt, her nails tracing faint patterns across his stomach, slow, exploratory. “I want you, Jack,” she whispered against his ear. “Not just the careful version of you. I want all of you.”

Jack clenched his jaw, tilting his head back, fighting for control.

“Anja…” he ground out, his voice thick with restraint, “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

She shifted, straddling his lap, her hands gripping his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. “Don’t I?” she challenged, her gaze locked on his.

Jack knew that look. The same one she’d given him in the bookstore the first night they met—the night they sat there, arguing over War and Peace, the night he’d felt something shift inside him. That knowing, unwavering gaze.

“I saw you, Jack,” she said softly. “Not just the cocky hockey player everyone else sees. Not just the guy who acts like nothing gets to him. I saw You. And I think—no, I know—that we are perfect for each other. So stop fighting. Stop being afraid that being yourself will chase me away. I trust you. With my heart, with everything.”

She leaned in, lips brushing his ear, her voice a breathless whisper.

“So take me, Jack.”

Jack’s restraint snapped like a frayed thread.

His hands found her waist, fingers pressing into her skin, pulling her against him. With a rough growl, he flipped them over, pressing her into the mattress, his body caging hers in.

His lips crashed onto hers, all heat, all desperation. It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t slow. It was every moment he’d held back, every time he’d wanted her and hadn’t let himself have her.

Jack’s hand slid up, fingers curling around her throat, firm enough to make her breath hitch. His grip wasn’t tight—just enough to remind her who was in control. He crushed his mouth to hers, his tongue sweeping inside, swallowing the soft gasp she let out.

Anja rocked her soaked core against his thigh, her fingers threading through his hair, tugging, demanding more.

Jack pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his breath ragged, lips swollen, self-control slipping fast. “You sure you want this?” His voice was rough, almost a growl. “Luke and Thea are in the other room. And you won’t be quiet if we start, darling.”

His eyes locked onto hers—one last chance to stop him.

Anja arched up, pressing her body flush against his, nails scraping down his back, making him suck in a sharp breath. Her smile was wicked, teasing. “Pretty sure we’ve both heard enough of them to know they’re not exactly holding back.” Her lips brushed his ear, her voice pure sin. “It’s our turn.”

Jack’s smirk was slow, dark—pure fucking trouble. That cocky, self-assured look that had driven her crazy since day one.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over her throat, making her shiver. “You just opened Pandora’s box.”

[badhee]

𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑫 𝑮𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑺 ! ⋅˚₊ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

pairing: bf!heeseung x gf!reader, established relationship genre/tags: smut, v small amount of angst, fluff, thigh riding, body worshipping, face sitting, hee’s lowkey simping hella hard & losing the idgaf war but we love to see it <3 words: 1.4k

jk version.

“Can you stop ignoring me please? It's driving me crazy.” You whine to your nonchalant boyfriend, urging him to mutter at least one word.

He has been giving you the silent treatment since this morning. You and Heeseung got into a petty argument that could've been easily resolved within seconds had he not just stormed out mid-convo.

Rightfully so— you were upset by him not wanting to talk things out and he got all defensive by saying you were ‘overreacting’. The bickering only spiraled from there and once you realized you had to leave for work you left without even saying a proper goodbye.

You felt bad for not at least giving a peck on the cheek but you were slightly annoyed by how stubborn he could be at times. Once you came back home, you wanted to talk with him immediately to patch things up yet he's still being difficult with you. His silence was speaking mere volumes.

“So you're really going to play that game now, huh? You know you can't ignore me forever Hee.” You snicker, all those pent up emotions filling you with an intense longing for him. “Can you say something?”

Heeseung remained quiet as a mouse, still refusing to speak, just sitting there examining you. Taking all of you in, basking in his own little fucked up glory. He wasn't trying to ignore you at first but now it has turned into a game for him. His only goal was seeing how far he could push your buttons until you finally break.

There was nothing more frustrating than craving someone's affection. His affection. Usually he'd give it to you on a silver platter, spoiling you with all the love and attention he could provide. But today — you were gonna have to work for it, and that you did.

Since talking wasn't the solution you try your best guess and think of something else. That's when a devious plan struck your mind — you were going to get a word of out him one way or another.

You were still wearing your work clothes so you strip naked right in front him, taking off every piece of clothing to only leave you in your panties. He tried to make it not so obvious that he was staring but you could feel his eyes on you the whole time. Still quiet, he looks up at you with his big, brown doe eyes — glancing over every inch of your bare form.

Biting his lip while leaning back on the couch he takes in all of you, losing himself in your alluring gaze. As much as he wanted to believe he had all the control in this situation, you played a deafening role in making sure this won't be an easy win for him.

As soon as you fully undressed you make your way over to Heeseung, subtly swaying your hips to send a rise out of him. Walking up to your boyfriend you find yourself straddling his thighs between your legs, the bitter silence only creating a thicker tension. His face looked so innocent, you couldn't help but go in to kiss him. Grabbing the side of his face to pull him in for a sweet, sensual kiss, molding your lips to match his hungry movement.

He was passionate with the kiss — almost leaving you winded by the end. You could tell that he's been holding that in since this morning, you couldn't open your eyes afterwards, savoring in the taste of him on your tongue.

“I'm an asshole, I'm sorry y/n. I don't know why I do the things I do sometimes… but l'm thankful to have someone as patient as you in my life.” Heeseung finally spoke, his gentle tone brings you a familiar source of comfort.

Heated make outs turned you both into even more dangerous territory. A constant rush of heat surges throughout your body, leading it’s way down to your aching core as you swung your head back in pleasure while riding your boyfriend's pretty, muscular thighs. The light-blue distressed jeans he wore showing just the slightest bit of skin to make you go feral. The weak, sweaty kisses in between rutting against him — the friction of his jeans grazing over your clothed heat, making you feverishly whimper out for him.

Heeseung couldn't keep his hands off you if he tried. Everything about you is absolutely stunning and perfect to him. His hands dance along the perimeters of your body, tracing every line and curve of your heavenly beauty — embarking on the notion that you are all his. He needs to show how grateful and lucky he is to have you more often.

“God... need you so bad right now..I don't wanna waste another second without having my cock inside you.” He keens, migrating his lips up the side of your earlobe.

He's going to have to put in a lot more work in order to get a reward like that though.

“I want you to eat me out then we can talk later.” You boldly counter, not even giving him an option at this point.

His face lights up with that idea, “Wanna sit on my face princess?” You nod right away, letting Heeseung maneuver you to the side so he could lye down comfortably — he looks up at you with wandering eyes as you go in for another kiss. He hums into the kiss, moving his hands to grab your ass. It's beginning to become too unbearable to keep your panties on.

Breaking the kiss to remove your soaked underwear, you toss them on the floor and meet your boyfriend's handsome face once again.

The anticipation was killing him, he couldn't wait to devour your pretty little pussy already ;( As soon as you positioned yourself below him, he held onto your thighs with both hands — making eye contact with you as he pressed a kiss to your swollen bud.

Any minor touch to your clit makes you overtly sensitive, letting out a tiny mewl from the light action. His lips part open to dip his tongue into your wetness, “mmmh... fuck hee” you hiss, already needing to brace yourself to not cum early. His mouth always works magic on you, leaving you with an earth-shattering orgasm every single time.

He flattens his tongue completely now, dragging a long stripe across your slit, drinking up all your essence, letting none of you go to waste. His face was so deeply buried into you all you could see now was the top of his head — grabbing a fistful of his messy hair to pull on later. You rock your hips back and forth to build more movement, grinding on his face while not having a care in the world if he could breathe or not.

From the looks of it, there were no complications on his end since he started moaning against you — the vibrations sending instant chills to your spine. You feel his nose brush up against your bundle of nerves, his tongue appears again to spread it’s brutal attack on your clit. His warmth on the sensitive sprout makes you jut your hips into a hastier motion.

“Shit... keep going just like that…i'll cum all over your face,” you cry out, feeling yourself close to making a huge mess and creaming all over his face.

“Yeah? Do it. Cum on my face please, baby.” He only breaks away to say that quickly, sounding rather desperate but attaches hisself back instantly.

Those string of words did it for you, it was like ultimate green light to reaching your climax. Two digits enter your weeping cunt and his tongue goes back to sucking on your puffy abused clit — the knot in your stomach tightening as he produced sloppier licks to your leaking folds.

A lusty, guttural moan escaped your lips, damn near screaming your boyfriend's name at the top of your lungs. Heeseung keeps your hips steady with a tight grasp to help ride out your intense high; his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping. His face saturated with the glint of your sweet nectar, he licks his lips and savors the delicious taste of you, there's nothing that'll ever compare.

"So beautiful my baby.. so fuckin' gorgeous.." he chants under his breath, planting kisses to the apex of your thighs. He'll never get tired of admiring your pretty body— or you in general.

Heeseung has always been more of a giver than a receiver, he likes to watch his partner writhe under him, loves when they cry and violently shake while he's giving them the most pleasurable moments of their life. He also likes to get what he wants in the end but that isn't always needed for him to be satisfied. He'll get his nut eventually, but in the meantime he's going to keep playing with you some more.

[sheepispink]

okay i’ve been following you on AO3 and accidentally found your tumblr 😭 but i’ve had this idea and i literally can’t get it out of my head so i wanted to request it to you 🧎

jazzsinger!reader (or like a popular singer/actor mayhaps a model 👀) x Simon “Ghost” Riley | okay so imagine reader has been frequently going to a cafe that ghost also goes to, and they kinda just bond because both of them are wearing a mask (or something to cover their face ex. mask and glasses with baseball cap) while barely talking to anyone except to order their drinks (i’m a tea girlie and i love me a good cup of oolong tea 🫡). I just imagine some 6’1 dude in all black next to someone noticeably smaller also wearing black attire staring menacingly at the wall waiting for their drinks. Then after a while they grab their drinks, look at each other, nod, then leaves without uttering a word. Then after a while it turns into a romantic relationship and when introduced to everyone else (the task force) they just lose it cause how does the skull wearing weirdo on their team get a smoking hot partner 🤨

Anyways please take my humble request with a grain of salt 

-🫄

i have tried, whether i have succeeded i do not know but i did have a lot of fun with this one so thank you very much for the ask!! Also mind my spelling mistakes, its like way too early rn LOL

You don't know how this even started, or who this man really is besides that you always walk in at the same time each morning and most of the people here are terrified. It’s likely his stature, 6’1 and dressed in all back, though you’re not too different yourself. Working as a singer and occasional model meant fans would be found in the most unlikely places, especially since your recent single blew the charts entirely. After your fans spotted you at your last local grocery store, you’ve had to take your own drastic measures, dressing in practically all black with a mask and a baseball cap just for good measure. So, in one way or another, you two were practically matching as you stood waiting for your drinks. Infact, it occured so often that your drinks would be served together; your hands brush as you pick up your cups until you glance up at each other and give a quick nod before disappearing again.

That was until today, where you walked in to see the man had gotten to the line before you for once, however it was much longer than usual. Still you waited patiently, humming your new song to yourself as the queue slowly moves, albeit very very slowly. Eventually you get fed up, peering round the hunk of a man to see what or who’s holding it up. “Bloody kids.. dont even know what they’re doin’ ”The man grunts out, surprising you as he looks back and you nod, looking forward. Two young teenagers were working, though they looked far too inexperienced especially with their hair not even up around the baked goods nor aprons on. But that wasnt the worst of it— no, they were just sloppy in general, having to remake coffees and not even knowing the measurements for each type. “Guess they have to start somewhere..” You hum, a small sigh leaves you although the man doesnt say anything back, clearly not taking a liking to his coffee being so delayed. Well, you cant exactly blame him.

Finally, you both stand to the side as the kids prepare your drinks, with you occasionally checking your watch considering you have to grab an uber to your producer's house for a quick meeting. You were close, practically growing up together since you went to the same university. Being late would cause problems though, and you tap your foot a little, wondering how hard it is to make a simple oolong tea. “Order 55 and 56!” You both step forward as always, reaching for your drinks until you realise this doesnt look like your oolong tea at all. Peeking at the label, you realise you had accidentally take his, hence ‘Simon’ written on the side.

”Think I took yours Simon.” You’ve got a little bit of a cheeky note to your voice since discovering this information about him, making him roll his eyes. He hands the cup over to you and reaches for his out of your hands. That’s when your brows furrow, realising why you even picked up the wrong one in the first place.

”Hey— this isnt even your drink. It’s a latte.” You hold it up to him and he peeks through the lid, eyes narrowing beneath his balaclava but settling again. “It’s fine—“

”No it’s not.”

Before he can try and stop you, you’ve already walked up to the counter and facing the lazy teenager there who had been mid-call with her friend. “He asked for a black coffee, not this.” You narrow your eyes at her, annoyed by her clear incompetence especially as she didnt seem to care at all that she was supposed to be working. “It’s just a bit of milk; he wont die.” She shrugs, only making you all the more annoyed as you pull down your mask. “Make a new one, now. Do you even know how many people would beg for a job of yours?”

The teenager is more shook by the fact you’re the jazz singer that she’s been a die hard fan of for the past year and she just embarrassed herself in front of you by acting like an idiot. “I- i’m so sorry! I’ll make it now!” She scurries off to make it, and you feel the presence of the soldier behind you again, glancing down at you.

“Didnt know you had a pretty face hiding beneath all tha’ ” He hums, noticing how your cheeks flush just a tad before you pull the mask back up.“Thanks, you didn't have to.”

You can only shrug, letting your hands fall from their stance on your hips. “It was nothing.. you’re right, they’re stupid kids.” He chuckles, watching the girl scurry quickly over and hand him the drink as she profusely apologises to you over and over.

The two of you leave the store, with you groaning as you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Damnit..” He raises a brow towards you, his mask crinkling slightly as you take your phone out, pulling up the uber app. “What’s wrong?” He murmurs, lifting his mask a tad to sip the coffee before lowering it again. “I won't be able to come back to this coffee shop anymore..”

”Oh? Too many fans?” Surprisingly his voice has a teasing lilt to it, making you look up at him with wide eyes before hiding your gaze again. “Yeah.. not that i’m not grateful but it can be tiring.”

”C’mon, i’ll give you a ride, that uber will take forever.”

He takes your number after he drops you off at your friend's house, leaving you with radio silence. Then, the next morning he sends an address, more specifically a coffee shop that he particularly likes and where you can start anew until the fans die down. Sometimes he’ll give you a ride after and he’ll even text when you’re late for your coffee run. It shifts into regular texts, longer conversations, brushing hands as you wait for your drinks he paid for, still with that same menacing stare. On an off chance he may just annoy you just a tad, leaning his arm on your head as you look up at him in horror before giving him a faux punch. “I’m not that short!”

Somehow, you end up meeting his task force, your hand held tightly in his. “T-this is your partner?” Gaz’s jaw is dropped just as much as Soap’s is, only Price chuckling at the whole situation. None of them had ever believed that Ghost would get a bird, especially not one as pretty as you are. “Hi everyone.”

You grin, finally pulling down your baseball cap and Soap nearly topples over right there and then. Gaz has his gaze flicking between you two, from Simon’s sharp eyes and black out to your bright face and sweet grin. “ What..?? When..?? How?!”

They drag you over to the couch promptly after, forcing you to tell them all about how you two met and if Ghost really is a softie after all. Meanwhile, Price pats Ghost on the shoulder, the stiff man still tense since he thought this whole meeting wouldnt go too well. “You know they wont let this go, right?”

“..I know.” Simon huffs, but he’s grinning behind the mask.

[theemporium]

in exchange for you not paying for my therapy bills after your last luke and cherry chapter i would like to request a luke blurb

the morning after your first time spending the night at luke and jacks apartment. you’re not quite sure what to do so anything you do for luke you do for jack so he’s not left out. jack is like “i like this one can you keep her” while luke is like “babe your my gf jacks a big boy he can do it himself”

thank you for requesting and sorry (not sorry) for the therapy bills!🫶🏽

.

Despite dating for almost nine months, this had been the first time you had ever stayed overnight at Luke’s apartment.

You had been in his apartment many times throughout the duration of your relationship, but you always left for your own place at the end of the night. Or Luke would leave with you, letting his brother have some privacy since you didn’t have a roommate. It always made sense, and seemed easier too.

But the boys had just come back from a long roadie and it had been almost two weeks since you saw Luke in person because of your own busy schedule. And as excited as Luke was to see you, he didn’t have the energy in him to handle another travel journey, as short as it was.

“Just stay the night,” Luke had all but mumbled as he laid on top of you on his bed, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “We can go to your place tomorrow.” 

And you didn’t have any reason to disagree with that agreement.

You just didn’t realise how out of your own element you were until you woke up the next morning. Luke was still fast asleep in his room and, considering how quiet the apartment was, you assumed Jack was too. It was stupid to feel so imposing but you couldn’t shake how weird it felt to be wandering around their place in the early hours of the day with neither awake yet.

You had decided to just follow the routine you usually followed at your place when Luke stayed over, scavenging whatever you could from their fridge and cupboards to make a decent breakfast with. Which, for two NHL players who should be eating more than the average person, was surprisingly not much, unless you wanted chicken and rice for breakfast (which no one in their right mind would want). 

You were lost in your own world, focused on the sizzling pan in front of you and the music playing from your phone on the counter beside you that you didn’t hear footsteps coming down the corridor.

“We own a spatula?” 

You turned, snorting when you found Jack glaring at the utensil in your hand like it had spawned out of nowhere. “I made Luke buy it when he tried to flip an egg with a fork.”

“Huh,” was all Jack managed to say. “He still asleep?” 

“Out like a light,” you nodded. 

“He’s gonna miss his breakfast,” Jack teased, rounding the counter so he could peek over your shoulder. 

“More French toast for us then,” you shrugged.

Jack paused, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. “You made me breakfast too?” 

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Yeah?” 

“Oh.” 

“I mean, if you have plans for breakfast, it’s fine,” you assured him, waving him off. 

“No, I—” Jack paused before shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, you’re Luke’s girlfriend.” 

Your confusion grew. “Yeah, and? You’re Luke’s brother. What’s that got to do with anything?” 

“You didn’t need to make me breakfast,” Jack said in a tone of voice that made it seem like his reply made any more sense than the previous ones. “But you did.” 

“What, you thought I would just make me and Luke breakfast and leave you to starve?” You questioned, the confusion slowly being replaced with amusement. “That would have been a dick move.”

Jack shrugged. “I would have understood.”

“Luke’s my boyfriend and you’re his brother but you’re also my friend, Jack,” you said to the boy with a soft smile. “Making extra breakfast is not the hardship you think it is.”

Jack laughed, nodding. “You’re my friend too.” 

Your smile widened.

“God, that smells so good,” Luke groaned as he shuffled into the room, messy curls tucked underneath the hood of his hoodie. He paused, glancing between the two of you with narrowed eyes. “Why do you both have that creepy smile? What are you planning?” 

“Confidential things,” Jack retorted, throwing his arm around your shoulder as he beamed at his younger brother. “Maybe when you’re old enough, we will tell you.” 

You snorted.

Luke frowned. “Ugh, can’t you go annoy Nico to feed you.” 

“Nuh uh, I was given an invite to join you both for breakfast here,” Jack said, still grinning widely. “You’re right, bro, it does smell so good.”

Luke let out a huff. “She is my girlfriend, go away and make your own breakfast.” 

“And she is my future sister-in-law,” Jack retorted, cackling at the way both you and Luke flushed at his words. “We are family now! Get used to it, Rusty!”

.

[starrdevereauxx]

Caught Outdoors

By Starr Devereauxx 💋

Dev has been keeping a low profile since the incident at Brandon’s wedding. She’s been doing her best to keep her head out of her lustful thoughts and get back to business. It’s been hard for her to find her rhythm back to normalcy.

Taking a pause on her photography, Dev decided to take time to just pour into her and find out what her goals and aspirations are. Dev is really looking into herself and figuring out what really moves her.

One morning Dev went for a walk to a beautiful park nearby. She felt the need to be outside, since nature is one of her favorite places to be. She took her journal, her morning coffee, and her favorite headphones and took a seat on a bench under a beautiful weeping willow tree. She wore a pink plaid skirt with a red heart crop sweater that barely covered her pierced nipples. The sun was shining all over her freshly oiled body as she began to journal her inner thoughts.

“Dear Journal,

Since I let Brandon fuck me, all I do is think about being fucked all the time. Submitting all my holes to anyone, any time, anywhere. My body aches to be used by a dick whenever I see someone just walking by me. I was in the store yesterday and a man said hello to me, I instantly wanted his dick in my mouth. Just to suck him til he came all over my mouth and down my throat. I wanted to feel his hands all over my body while he took out his frustrations on my tight pussy and my plump asshole. I wanted to be delightfully punished, then sent on my way. I’m so horny right now. I could fuck myself right here just thinking about it…..”

Dev noticed that her panties instantly became soaked while she was writing. Her intrusive thoughts got the best of her and she had get this nut out of her, her pussy was aching with excitement.

Dev looked around to see who could see her. There were a few passers by but not a lot of people. She parted her legs towards the sun and reached down in her panties, opening her lips and gently rubbing her clitoris gently as it began to get wetter and wetter the deeper her thoughts went. She kept her eyes open to see who could see her, almost not caring she began to rub harder. She took her other hand and put her fingers in her asshole, pushing in and out. She imagined in her mind that a stranger was taking her anal cavity for a hard rough ride, while another stranger ate her pussy from the front.

Dev began to moan loudly in the middle of the park, taking deep breaths and dripping all over the bench, getting closer and closer to climax. There was a rustle in the bushes behind her. She quickly paused to look around to make sure she didn’t have an accidental audience. She didn’t see anyone, so she continued to her climactic journey.

Rubbing aggressively against her clitoris and fingering her asshole, mouth wide open feeling an imaginary dick inside it as she squirted all over her panties, the bench and even watered a flower below. Dev’s flushed face showed her satisfaction as she pulled herself together to walk home. She removed her underwear and carried them home, letting her thick chubby pussy blow in the wind underneath her skirt. The light breeze tickled and teased her with every step she took.

On her way home, she couldn’t help like she was watched the entire time she was out there. Not that she cared about being watched, but just wanted to remain safe outside vulnerable for the taking.

Dev made it back home and showered to prepare for the rest of her day. Soon as she was finishing her shower, a note slid under her door. She jumped back immediately frightened. Who would do such a thing? Was she seen at the park? Was she followed home?

Wrapped in her bath towel, she bends down to pick up the envelope. It’s addressed to “the gardener”. Dev became puzzled by the title, but opened it any way.

The letter read..

“My dick throbbed watching you water the flowers. Next time, you’ll be doing that on my throbbing dick”

Dev didn’t know how to feel. One part of her was scared to death of a stranger watching her and following her home. On the other hand, she was aroused at being objectified and being used to cum. A part of Dev enjoyed the thought of some stranger jacking his member to her pleasing herself. She put the note in her journal and kept going about her day.

Dev ran some errands, had a few meetings and then went to a near by cafe to finish up some work. The entire day went extremely well, but she couldn’t get over the fact that someone watched her fuck herself in public. She decided to take the long way home and ended up passing the park she was at during this morning’s sunrise. Seeing how the sun was starting to set, she felt this was the perfect time to do her evening journal entry and take in the sunset.

Dev pulled her car up the park and took her journal to the same unoccupied bench she sat at this morning. This time she was wise and removed her panties before she even got out the car, just incase she was inspired to “garden”.

She pulled out her journal and the letter fell out. She thought, “I wonder if he’s out here right now?”, then took the letter and sniffed it. Taking a long deep breath, she felt her blood rushing and couldn’t hold back any longer. She parted her legs, pussy already dripping with anticipation.

The bushes began to move. She jumped up.

“Hello, someone there?” Dev called out.

Nothing.

She walked around the bench and close to the bush to see if she could see someone.

Nothing.

Then suddenly rushing towards her, a tall figure came behind her, holding her hands behind her back and subduing her. Dev couldn’t break free.

She could feel his dick poking her in her back, hard as steel. He’s breathing hard on her neck, and it’s making her increasingly horny. For a second, he just holds her and they are just standing there breathing hard. Dev breaks the silence.

“Sir, what are you doing?” She said softly.

“I see you got my note” he said while his other hand begins to take off his belt and open his pants.

“Sir please, I don’t know what you want.. don’t hurt me” Dev begs.

“You came here because you want this. I’m gonna treat you like the little slut you are” he replies, dick fully exposed.

Dev immediately feels her mouth water. She manifested this moment and she wasn’t about to let it pass her by. He was right, she did want this, and now she’s gonna get it.

The stranger begins to massage her big vanilla breasts as he’s telling her all the things he’s going to do with her. Dev isn’t even putting up a fight. She’s acting helpless but hoping for all the things he’s saying. She continues to beg him to stop, and her begging is only turning him on more.

The stranger’s dick is pulsating so hard that he can’t bare to hear her talk anymore. He pushes her on her knees and forces his giant dick in her mouth. Dev’s eyes and pussy begin to water. He thrusts his member back and forth, in and out of her wet mouth. He released a hard breathing moan. Dev begins sucking his dick so well, she almost forgets that she’s being forced. The stranger begins to go harder using her throat as his personal fuck toy.

“Suck my dick like a good little whore. I’m going to make you my little cum dump. You are gonna drink my cum. You wanna drink my cum you little bitch?” He said lustfully to Dev.

She shakes her head yes with delight in her teared filled eyes.

He drops his head back and smiles. He begins to go harder. Dev can barely breathe. He’s training her throat in the middle of the park. The sunset is their backdrop to this dick sucking event.

It’s been about 15 mins and he’s close to releasing his orgasm.

Dev awaits his cum.

The stranger holds his head up and grabs her by the back of the head.

“I’m about to cum, open your mouth wide slut. Open your throat for me. Swallow me bitch. I’m right there, I’m rig-“

He explodes in her mouth, filling her mouth with a giant load of his cum. It’s spilling out the corners of her mouth and her eyes are wide as she chokes a little.

She gulps and then licks her lips clean, Leaving no trace of his load. Dev opens her mouth to show him that she’s swallowed him whole.

He pats her on the head in approval.

“Good girl, that’s my good little whore” the stranger smiles.

Dev smiles back “thank you sir”

She gets up and walks back to get her journal off the bench and walks back to her car. Just to see another note on her window.

She looks around to see if the stranger is around and he seems to have vanished in the wind.

“I’ll be seeing you again soon” the note reads.

Dev holds the note close to her chest and smiles. She starts her car and drives home. As she drives home, her body is still reacting to what has happened.

She pulls into her parking garage and sits there for a moment before gathering her things.

She unlocks her car and gets out. Waiting for the elevator to get to her high rise apartment, she’s holding the note in her hands. She makes it to her door.

Dev punches in the code to her door and suddenly someone covers her mouth and said

“I hope this isn’t too soon”

The door opens.

To be continued…..

[pupmurdock]

Confused was too simple of a word for what Matt was feeling. Disappointed? Angry? Ashamed? every possible negative emotion coming up from one simple question.

"What's your plans for tonight?"

Foggy's question felt like ice water thrown in Matt's face.

"Why?" Matt asked, his mind still stuck on the case that sat in front of him. Obviously his plans were to keep working on his case. It was just a normal Friday. Oh, was Matt so very wrong.

"It's Valentine's day. First one since you got married, huh buddy?" Foggy gently teased his friend, his own coat being pulled over his shoulders as he and Karen packed up their things to go home.

Matt sat in silence for a few too many seconds before Foggy and Karen both froze where they stood outside Matt's office door. "Oh, Matt.... Buddy.... did you forget?" Foggy prodded gently as he watched Matt's forehead scrunch up.

That was why you'd been cold this morning. That was why you'd left his apartment without giving him all those extra kisses that usually made him late for work.... that was why you'd been asking him all week what he planned to do on Friday...

That was also why, when he'd agreed to help Frank with a mission tonight, Frank kept checking that he was actually free. Shit.... Shit shit shit. And this was his first Valentine's day married and you were not only planning to spend it without him, but you were clearly devastated about it too.

Matt knew he was in the dog house when he tried to call you on his speedy walk home and you didn't answer. Karen and Foggy had tried to suggest restaurants that might still have reservations available, but nothing was. So Matt tried the best he could, getting a bottom of the barrel bouquet of flowers, some last option chocolates... anything to make it look like he hadn't forgotten.

Then he got home, expecting to hear you, to smell your perfume or hear the old records you like to listen to. All he was met with was the smell of salt... your tears... and a microwave dinner that was long gone by now. His phone's clock gruesomely reminded him that not only was it Valentine's day, but he was WAY too late getting home.

When he opened the door, you didn't greet him, you didn't turn to look at him, he could hear your angry breaths echoing against the glass windows. You had an expensive bottle of wine open and half drank and some half eaten chocolate covered strawberries. God, he fucked up.... He fucked up big time...

"Frank stopped by." You said simply, still not even turning to greet Matt as he took off his shoes and his coat, putting his half assed attempt at retribution on the kitchen counter. "He brought the strawberries. Said that he didn't need your help tonight..." You mumbled and Matt's heart felt like it shattered as he heard the break in your voice. You were about to start crying again, but not out of sadness, out of anger.

"Baby, i-" Matt tried to explain himself but he couldn't. it's not like you were subtle with your hints all week, making a point to wear nice lingerie to bed, making mentions of the pretty red dress you never got the chance to wear... asking him to be your Valentine.

"You made plans to spend your Valentine's day with Frank. I get it. Go spend it with him. I don't care. The city needs you or whatever bull shit you wanna excuse yourself with. Fine. I'll be here like I always am." You were pissed. Matt could feel it before he even entered the apartment. The heat in the air from your anger mixed with his guilty conscious were making Matt's brain light up with blaring alarms. "At least he had the decency to wish me a happy Valentine's day. I almost considered asking him to dinner." You mumbled as you stared out at the snow that dusted the billboard across the street.

"Honey... I know there isn't really an excuse I could give here. And I'm not going to. Simply put, I was too in my own world to remember-"

"Clearly. Because why would you remember your wife at home? Who would remember such an integral part of their life? Who would remember to wear their wedding ring on the day of Love?" You added and that struck a chord with Matt... he was never a ring-wearer. it always kind of slipped his mind unless he left it on before falling asleep. But now that ring felt like a beacon of his failures where it sat on his nightstand.

Matt didn't know how to respond. He knew his caseload was hefty this week, but so was Foggy's and Matt knew full well that Foggy and Marci were sitting in some high end restaurant right now eating their fancy desserts. And here Matt stood with some shitty wilted flowers and some practically inedible chocolates, trying to figure out how to make his wife hate him just a little less.

Matt's throat felt dry... he felt utterly clueless on how to fix this. But he knew he needed to. Hugging you was a bad idea. Smothering you at this point felt like it could only backfire tenfold. He needed to apologize but all his brain could come up with was excuses which he knew you were in no mood to hear. So he sighed and walked towards the kitchen. But then he paused at the record player.

He leaned down and grabbed for the records. As he sifted through them, he could hear you sipping from the wine you'd bought. He found the one he was searching for. He placed it on the player and turned it on. He took a deep breath as he placed down the needle. The old scratch of the needle against the record as it started to play, got your attention. The first couple beats made your heart rate speed up and Matt only hoped it was a good reaction. The sounds echoed in the now tense space. The song? The same one you two had your first dance to at your wedding. Smokey Robinson & The Miracles 'Ooo Baby Baby'.

He adjusted the volume a bit, making sure it wasn't too loud. You made no move to even turn to face him, but he could clearly hear your sniffles as a couple tears fell down your cheeks.

He slowly stepped around the kitchen counter and towards you. He knew he was treading into your territory now. but you said nothing. He took the lack of fight as an allowance to step closer.

As soon as he was close enough to reach out and touch you, he paused. "Baby..." he said quietly, only to be met with a sniffle. "Sweetheart... I know I messed up. Time escaped me. I know I fucked up and you can yell at me all you want if that's what you want..." Matt said softly before taking one last hesitant step. You had your back to him, but you were only inches apart now.

After a couple seconds, you let out a sigh. "You really did fuck up." You agreed and let out a little scoff of a laugh. But you were laughing nonetheless and that was a good sign. "I should've gotten you a calendar you can actually read for Christmas." You joked a little bit before he felt you lean your back against his chest.

He knew he didn't deserve your forgiveness so easily. but that didn't mean he wasn't ecstatic when you finally leaned into him. His hands found your hips and he leaned down, putting his chin on your shoulder. "Is there anyway I can make it up to you?" He asked softly, turning to press a small testing kiss to your cheek.

You let out a long sigh and laid your hands against his, pulling his arms to fully wrap around your waist. "Matt... I knew what I was getting into when I married you... I know how busy your work is... both of them. I just... I had hoped I'd be higher on your priority list.." You mumbled softly as Matt slowly dipped his head, leaving a couple small kisses on your neck.

Matt gently nudged his nose against your neck. "Baby... I do what I do to make sure that you're always safe. and I know I hurt you in the process. I know I made you feel unloved and unnoticed and that I fucked up. You can call me an idiot or kick and scream. I understand." Matt said, his voice clearly guilty as he knew he was ready to take any form of anger or resentment that you had for him.

But you didn't. When you shook your head and let out a sad laugh, he seemed confused. "You know I would never hurt you. And kicking and screaming has never solved any of our problems. We can always go out to dinner tomorrow... I'm just glad you're home finally." You mumbled and turned in his arms, pulling him into a hug, one he didn't even think he deserved. "I love you, even when you're being an idiot." You mumbled and leaned up on your toes to gently kiss his cheek.

"Isn't that all the time?" Matt commented with a small chuckle before leaning down and kissing your forehead. "I love you too." he added as you leaned up to kiss his lips before you laid your head on his chest, swaying a bit on your feet to the sounds of the record playing.

Matt definitely wasn't a perfect man. He knew he was flawed, it was all he thought about when he hurt you like this. But for some reason you still loved him, you never saw his flaws in the way he did. You were the only one who loved him so gently that he almost considered that maybe... just maybe... he deserved it. Maybe God had given him this little slice of heaven in his arms and he needed to remember this chance... this chance at pure heavenly bliss that being with you granted him. Either way, he vowed to never let you spend another day, Valentine's day or not, without feeling every once of love and gratefulness he had for you.

[bellaxgiornata]

You Are My Sunshine [5]

Pairing: Jax Teller x Fem!Reader Word count: 5.4k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Teller Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; sunshine!Reader/grumpy!Jax (somewhat), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, canon divergent, canon typical violence (more tags to possibly come)

a/n: Lots of Jax and Reader interacting in this update, which is quite lengthy in itself. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

tag list: @mariamadison6-blog @moongirlgodness @kmc1989 @thedreadandthefugitivemind @fallout-girl219 @nfm-12

Closing down the shop tonight felt far more like a chore than usual. Today had been a long, busy day at Honest Coffee since you’d decided to run a special event this afternoon–half off drinks for a few hours during the time when most people in Charming usually finished work for the day. You’d called it Happy Hour, and it had led to a rush of revolving customers all late afternoon until almost closing time. 

Now you were exhausted closing things up by yourself. Miguel, the barista who you had on the schedule to close with you tonight, had an exam early in the morning tomorrow. Knowing how incredibly nervous he’d been about the upcoming test with how he’d been talking about it his entire shift after school, you’d rushed him out the door for some last minute studying instead of letting him deal with the cleanup. You figured you could handle the aftermath of the day by yourself. But as you swept the floors and wiped down the counters and tables tonight, even you were aware that you’d worked with far less enthusiasm than normal. 

Attempting to finish cleaning in a rush, all you wanted was to get done for the evening so you could settle down on your couch at home with some leftover pasta and one of your shows. But before that could even happen, you still had to walk all the way home first. Because on the nice evenings that you closed your shop, you usually walked home since you didn’t live too far from downtown Charming. Though, admittedly tonight you weren’t exactly looking forward to the added exercise that was just another delay before you could sit down and finally relax. 

It wasn’t until twenty minutes after you’d closed the shop that you were finally turning off the lights before making your way to the door. With your purse slung over your shoulder, you pushed the door open and stepped out into the warm evening air. The sun was beginning to sink closer to the horizon, the sky a wash of pretty pinks and oranges. Taking a moment as you stepped onto the sidewalk, you unzipped your purse as you turned back towards the door, digging through your bag’s contents. You searched for the shop keys before pulling them out, but you’d barely just gotten the key into the lock of the door when a voice nearby startled you so bad you nearly jumped out of your skin.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Head whipping to the side, you were surprised to see Jax sitting at one of the outdoor tables in front of your coffee shop. There was a lit cigarette in his hand, a trail of smoke drifting upwards from it as his blue eyes fixed on you. You noticed the way his mouth curved faintly upwards at how you’d frightened at the sound of his voice before his expression quickly shifted back into something serious. 

Clearing your throat, your attention returned to locking the door in front of you. You twisted the key as your racing heart steadily began to slow back to its normal rhythm after that scare, questions already starting to arise in your mind about why he was sitting out here. It was obvious he’d been there for a bit waiting on you, but you weren’t entirely sure about the reason as to why he’d been sitting here waiting for you.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Figured you saw me sitting here and were just ignoring me.”

“I didn’t notice you, actually,” you answered distractedly as you focused on locking up. “Was in a hurry to close the shop for the night. Been a long day.”

Pulling the key from the door, you slipped it back into your purse before turning around and focusing on Jax where he sat at the table. The cigarette was in his mouth now as he took a drag, your eyes briefly focusing on the way his lips pursed around it. He took a deep inhale before removing the cigarette from between his lips, turning his head and blowing the cloud of smoke away from you. As Jax sat further back in the metal chair, he stretched his legs out in front of himself on the sidewalk as if he was making himself comfortable, though he looked the furthest thing from it as he sat there.

“I was wrong,”  he said after a moment.

His eyes remained fixed on the cigarette between his fingers as he knocked some of the ash from the tip. Eyebrows raising marginally at his comment, you wondered if an actual apology was coming next or if that was going to be the extent of it. Honestly, you weren’t sure if you’d even expected him to actually say anything about the way he’d treated you the other night, so the fact that he’d shown up here of his own volition was a bit of a surprise in itself. 

“Those things I said the other night,” Jax continued after another brief silence, his eyes still intentionally avoiding you as he spoke, “they were shitty. I admit that. I don’t really know you and you’d done nothing to deserve me speaking to you like that. I just…”

He trailed off, his eyes still on the cigarette pinched between his fingers before he pulled it back to his lips for another deep drag. You watched him as the golden glow of the setting sun behind him swathed him in a soft warm light. It was an odd contrast to that distant, pained look lingering in his eyes as he kept avoiding the sight of you. 

“You just what?” you prompted gently.

As if the sound of your voice had broken through whatever thoughts were running through his mind, he withdrew the cigarette from between his lips before expelling the smoke. His head turned towards you, his eyes finally meeting yours again. For some reason you felt a little transfixed by them this time with how intently he was holding your gaze captive.

“I was pissed off that night about a lot of shit, none of it having to do with you,” he continued. “And I saw you in your shop looking all happy, like nothing could ever be wrong in the world, and it just, I don’t know–” he shook his head, an agitated expression crossing his features before it vanished, “–it pissed me off more. And for some reason I just wanted to knock the smile off your face. Wanted you to stop being so goddamned cheerful for once.”

Nodding slowly at his explanation, you crossed your arms over your chest as you eyed him. “And did that make you feel any better?” you asked, genuinely curious. “Upsetting me? Trying to bring me down to whatever you were feeling?”

Jax sighed deeply, almost visibly deflating in the chair as he drew the cigarette up to his lips for a final drag. Afterwards, he tossed it to the ground and stamped it out with his shoe. A steady stream of smoke blew out from between his lips as he stared at the butt on the pavement, a crease between his brows.

“No,” he finally admitted. “No it didn’t. If anything I felt like a massive piece of shit afterwards.”

He looked over at where you still stood just in front of your shop’s front door, noticing the way your arms were still crossed over your chest. His bottom lip rolled back between his teeth in silent contemplation as he just looked at you, his eyes studying your face carefully.

“I’m sorry for that, too,” he finally said. “You didn’t deserve me coming into your place and being a bastard. I know that, alright? But I warned you that I’m not a good man. I’m not nice. Certainly not the kinda guy you should be sending free coffees to, especially after I just insulted you.”

“You’re apologizing though, aren’t you?” you pointed out, uncrossing your arms before taking a hesitant step closer to the table he was seated at. “You felt guilty for what you’d said. You just admitted that being hurtful hadn’t brought you joy.”

Jax’s eyes narrowed back at you. It was obvious that now he was really studying you. Taking a few more cautious steps forwards, as if you were approaching a wild animal that might pounce instead of a man who looked worn down, you crossed the distance towards the table. Slowly, you reached a hand out and grabbed the back of the other metal chair before pulling it out, all the while aware of how he was watching your every move carefully.

“What’re you trying to get at?” he finally asked.

Lowering yourself into the chair, you focused solely on him and the way he was examining you. There was something guarded in his expression as he waited for your response, like he was trying to hide part of himself from you. 

“I’m getting at the fact that if you really were that awful of a person, you wouldn’t have felt bad for saying those things to me,” you answered, getting comfortable in the chair. “There’d have been no guilt, no regret, and certainly no apology.”

Jax scoffed, rolling his eyes a little. “Apologizing doesn’t suddenly make me a good man somehow, sunshine,” he replied. “It doesn’t just erase shit.”

There was a brief moment before you responded, noticing how he'd taken to calling you that nickname again so easily. Except without the malicious intonation that he’d used last time. It almost sounded affectionate.

“Well, taking your anger out on someone doesn’t make you a bad man, either,” you countered. “It’s not nice and it’s certainly not acceptable, but show me a person who hasn’t done that a handful of times in their life.”

A small, almost surprised laugh fell out of Jax in response. When he looked across the table at you, there was a look of disbelief etched on his face now. He shook his head, a slight crease between his brows as his blue eyes raked over you for a minute.

“I’m not saying what I did the other night alone makes me a bad man, sunshine,” he told you. “I’ve done far worse things than just saying mean shit to someone. You realize that, don’t you?”

“I do,” you answered. “But considering you’re able to apologize for something like insulting me–to feel bad about it–means you’re not quite the bad guy you make yourself out to be.”

“What?” he asked, his brows furrowing even tighter together at that. “What the hell are you even getting at with that line of thinking?”

A soft huff fell out of you as you relaxed back in the chair, a small smile finally making its way onto your face. He clearly needed it pointed straight out for him because apparently the view he had of himself was just that bleak. He wasn’t getting the point.

“You’re capable of guilt,” you explained. “Remorse. Which are good things that help guide a person to live with at least some semblance of morals. And besides that, you’re taking responsibility for your actions by coming here to apologize to me. If you were truly a horrendous individual, you’d have lashed out and felt nothing about it and never apologized.”

“So what?” he asked, confusion still written all over the way he was looking at you. “That makes me suddenly a good guy in your book? Is that what you’re saying?”

Biting your lip to fight back the growing smile on your face, you shook your head slowly back at him. What was it with everyone assuming a person was one thing or another all the time? That people were just so black and white?

“No,” you began slowly, “I’m saying that makes you human.”

Somehow, he only grew further confused at that. His head tilted slowly to the side as he eyed you skeptically for a long moment, a growing silence dragging out between the two of you. Then gradually, he leaned forward in his chair and rested both of his arms on top of the metal table, his hands clasped together as if you had his full attention. The sun behind him was sinking even lower now, the sky growing a dark orange and purple. 

“What’s that mean, sunshine?” he asked curiously. 

“It means,” you began, leaning forward in your chair, mirroring his posture as you rested your arms on the table across from him, “that you’re human. Capable of doing both good and bad equally. In my book, you can’t lump someone into one category. It’s not like a–” you paused, gesturing a hand in front of yourself as you tried to find the words you were looking for, “–a tally system or something. Good deeds don’t cancel out bad ones, and bad ones don’t just automatically make you a bad person. People are far too damn complex for that. There’s too many nuances and things to understand and consider.”

Jax’s brows pulled together on his forehead once more as you spoke, a deep crease forming between them as his eyes narrowed at you. It was as if he was hanging off of every word you were saying, sincerely interested in your point of view as he took in your explanation.

“I've never met anyone before who thought like that,” he admitted after a moment. “It’s always been black or white. Good or bad. Straightforward. And I'm always seen as the bad guy.” He paused, giving you a long, hard look before he spoke seriously. “Which I am.”

You breathed out an amused scoff, shaking your head. “I don’t think anything in life is necessarily that straightforward, Jax, let alone the idea of whether someone is morally good or bad.”

His lips pressed into a thin line as he considered that. After a moment, he gestured his chin at you. “Fine, so how do you gauge who’s good or not then? How can you tell for yourself, sunshine?”

Shrugging a shoulder, you answered simply, “By getting to the heart of a person.”

One corner of his lips curved upwards into a small grin instantly, a light flickering behind his eyes at your answer. Almost as if he was amused despite the slight bit of intrigue at the idea.

“Sunshine, there’s no way in hell you can get to the heart of every person you meet,” he pointed out. “Let alone even a handful of people.”

With another smile spreading across your face, you playfully pointed a finger at him from across the little table. “Exactly,” you replied. “That’s my point. We never truly know people, therefore it’s not fair to lump them into a category and make assumptions. Because you have no idea why people do what they do, or how they feel about the actions they take, whether they're being eaten alive by the things they've done or not. And I think the guilt a person carries says more about them than most people think.” 

Something hard to decipher flickered behind his blue eyes as he listened to you, one of his hands running over the blonde hairs of his scruff. Another pregnant pause filled the air between you both, the street lights coming to life as the sun sunk down almost out of view now.

“You really aren't putting on a front as a friendly barista, are you?” he questioned back.

A soft laugh passed between your lips at the mistake he kept making before you once more corrected him. “I’m the coffee shop owner, Jax. I’m not a barista. I just like slinging coffee sometimes, too.” A genuine warm and friendly smile spread across your mouth next as you realized that he finally wasn't questioning you quite so much now. “And no, I'm not. This really is who I am.”

Jax continued quietly observing you, his eyes scrutinizing you closely. “So you view…everyone like they're just good then?” he asked skeptically. “That's how it works for you?”

Shrugging a shoulder lightly at the question, you didn't know how to necessarily answer that. “I mean, there are things that I personally have a difficult time reconciling with. Things that make it difficult for me to see the good sometimes. I’m only human myself,” you answered carefully. “But–”

Jax immediately perked up at that, his head cocking curiously to the side as one of his blonde brows arched back at you. “So absolute no's do exist with you?” he asked, cutting you off. “Enlighten me on that, darlin’.”

You hesitated for a moment at how he’d interpreted your explanation before carefully trying to answer him. “Well, I mean, I don’t know if I'd call it that exactly. That's sort of where the gray area comes into play, right?” you told him. “Because there are things that feel completely unforgivable, but how can you know someone isn't capable of change? That someone can't feel remorse and be reformed?” At the look on his face, you quickly added on, “I'm not saying I’m naive enough to think that's true of everyone, I'm just saying, you never know with a person. Which is where the weight of someone's guilt factors in and why I say the only way you can know is to know someone’s heart.”

Jax’s fingers slowly ran across his mouth as he studied you across the table from him, clearly considering what you’d just told him. You could see a question beginning to form in his eyes, like it was sitting there right on the tip of his tongue, and you were just waiting for him to finally say what he was thinking. 

“Okay, so let's say hypothetically that my club was more like a gang and less of a club,” Jax began slowly. His blue eyes intensely studied you from across the small table, as if your response to this question was going to tell him something he deemed important. “Would I hypothetically fall on your absolute no's? Assuming I did things you'd expect a gang to do–things of the unforgivable nature–am I one of those people you'd have a hard time ‘reconciling’ with?”

That had taken you entirely off guard. Wordlessly you sat there across from him, seriously pondering the question he’d posed you. It wasn't exactly an easy one to answer because you knew as well as anyone in Charming that the motorcycle club was in fact a criminal organization and not actually a group of motorcycle enthusiasts, even if you didn't know the full extent of what all they did. But at the same time, you'd lived in Charming long enough to also know that Jax’s father had been the one to start the whole thing and that Jax had grown up entrenched in that life since birth. He'd known that life to be normal. 

And yet here he was, showing up at your coffee shop to apologize for being mean and callous a few nights ago. Showing that he reflected on his actions, thought about how they affected others. Probably also had some things eating away at him internally judging by that dark glimmer often hiding in his eyes. 

So how did you judge someone for circumstances beyond their control? Jax couldn't help that he was born into the family that he was just as much as he couldn't be blamed for the way he was raised. And sure, you could argue that he was a man capable of making his own choices now, but considering how he was shaped and how his own moral compass was forged, it wasn’t realistic for someone to just know any different than what they always had. He was a product of his upbringing, but that also didn't mean he wasn't capable of change–if that's what he wanted. But you also had no idea what he wanted because you barely knew him.

So could you so easily conclude that he was someone you’d find unforgivable? Someone incapable of reformation and beyond redemption? No, not really. You hadn't seen enough of what was in his heart to make you think he was truly some evil villain.

Eventually, you slowly shook your head at the question. Jax's eyes widened marginally at that, as if he was surprised that was your response. 

“No, because I don't really know enough about you as a person to make that call,” you answered. “You've done illegal things–hypothetically–but I've seen your club do charity work, too. Help the community. I think you all care about this town more than it realizes. In my mind, there's just not enough for me to form an opinion on what’s in your heart, so to speak.”

Jax quietly sat there, his arms still resting on the table as one hand continued running over his mouth in thought, the tips of his fingers passing absently back and forth along his bottom lip. Your attention dropped to his rings, curiously wondering if there was any meaning behind them. He'd always had them on whenever you'd seen him and there were quite a few of them. 

“So you're saying,” Jax began slowly, his voice drawing your attention back to his eyes, “that you'd need to see more?”

Shrugging a shoulder, you nodded at the question. “Yeah, I'd say that's a fair assumption.”

He hesitated, his eyes narrowing marginally at you before he continued. “Do you want to see more?” 

Yet again Jax had thrown out another question you hadn’t exactly expected. Surprise briefly flickered over your features as that question sat between the two of you. Was he…offering to let you get just a bit closer to him? 

“What do you mean?” you asked cautiously.

He huffed out a laugh at you, that darkness in his eyes lightening a little as the smallest smile crossed his lips. “I'm asking if you genuinely don't mind me coming to your shop, sunshine. Especially after I was a massive prick to you. Do you actually not mind seeing more of me?”

“As long as you refrain from using me as a verbal punching bag,” you began, a smile once more forming on your face as you began to understand his question, “then no, I don't mind seeing you here. I told you the first time you stopped in Honest Coffee that you were welcome here just as much as anyone else and I meant it.”

The small smile on his lips grew into a wider grin, a warmth reaching his eyes that you hadn't seen there before. For a moment, you found yourself unable to do anything else besides sit there admiring the sight of him smiling back at you. He looked completely different than all those other times you’d seen him when he was tense and scowling across the street. The deep creases and frown lines had completely smoothed out on his face, and there was a light in his eyes that made them look somehow even more blue. He looked handsome in a way that had your heart beating just a bit faster when he looked like that.

“I'll keep that in mind,” he replied, pushing the metal chair back and rising to his feet. “But I won't keep you any longer darlin’. I just wanted to apologize for being an asshole the other night. I really am sorry.”

Pushing your own chair back, you rose to your feet as well. The day's exhaustion once more hit you, the aches in your body returning. The prospect of walking home in the warm summer night now that it was even later seemed daunting after the day you’d had, but you didn’t have a choice. 

“I appreciate the apology, Jax,” you told him, sending him a tired smile. “You're forgiven, by the way. Especially after taking the time to understand me better instead of continuing to blindly judge me.”

He laughed lightly, taking a couple of steps backwards towards the street, his eyes still on you. “Could say the same about you. You're definitely unique, sunshine,” he told you with a grin. “Don't think many like you exist.”

Hands wrapping around the straps of your purse, you took a few steps backwards down the sidewalk yourself. “Probably not,” you agreed. “You have a good night though, Jax.”

Turning around, you focused your attention on the sidewalk as you started to make your way down it in the direction of your street. It was about a fifteen minute walk, but after being on your feet so much today, you winced at how uncomfortable each step already felt. But you hadn't gone more than a handful of steps before Jax was calling out behind you.

“You're not walking home, are you?” 

Looking over your shoulder at him behind you, you stopped in place on the sidewalk. He was already walking back over towards you, something like concern written on his features. 

“I usually do when it's nice out,” you replied, turning around to face him.

Jax finished crossing the remaining distance between you, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. That look of concern remained when he came to a stop a few feet away. 

“It's late, sweetheart,” he pointed out. “And dark. You probably shouldn’t be walking home by yourself. It’s not necessarily safe and all.”

Waving him off with a dismissive hand, you shook your head. “It's fine. I don't live far and it's not like I haven't walked through Charming alone at night before.”

“You’re too damn trusting of everyone for me to feel comfortable with that,” he teased. He paused for a second before he gestured his head behind him at the clubhouse across the street. “Let me give you a ride home. I'll feel better knowing nothing happened to you because I kept you so late.”

Eyes shifting to where he'd gestured, you spotted the ever present line of bikes in the lot. Something unexplainable fluttered in your stomach, but whatever it was wasn't exactly an unpleasant sensation. 

“You…want to drive me home on your bike?” you questioned carefully, attention returning to him.

“If that's not a problem, yeah,” he told you. “Strictly just to make sure you get home safe, sunshine. No ulterior motives despite the things I'm sure you've heard about me, I promise.”

Chewing your bottom lip in thought, you mulled his offer over. You really didn't want to walk all the way home tonight after the day you’d had, and it wasn't like he couldn't find out where you lived if he wanted to in order to do something shady. Considering the power the Sons wielded in Charming, you knew he could easily find your address if he wanted to–though you didn’t remotely get a feeling of being unsafe around him. So was there really any harm if he gave you a ride? It wasn't that far of a drive anyway.

“Okay,” you accepted after a brief deliberation. “I suppose I wouldn't mind not walking tonight, it's been a long day.”

A little grin slipped onto his lips before he gestured his head back towards the clubhouse. “Then c'mon, sunshine. Let me take you home.”

As you began to cross the street, Jax fell in step beside you. His hands were still in his pockets, that small grin on his lips as he walked. But you were focused on the clubhouse, faint music and laughter coming from inside. Were they already partying again? It was still fairly early, though you supposed that probably meant nothing to them. 

“My bike is over here,” he told you.

Letting him walk ahead of you, you followed after him through the lot. As he walked, your eyes drifted to the reaper patch on the back of his kutte, never having really examined it this closely before. You'd been curiously inspecting the scythe it was holding when a voice across the lot drew both yours and Jax’s attention.

“I was looking for you, Jax!”

Turning towards the voice, you spotted a petite blonde in short shorts and a cropped top making her way over towards him. She only noticed you long enough to send a sharp, piercing glare in your direction before her attention returned to Jax as she threw him sad, puppy dog eyes. Your brow arched curiously at her quick dismissal of you and the way she was interacting with him.

In front of you, Jax tensed at the sight of her before a deep, tired sigh fell out of him. “What is it, Ima?” he asked.

She continued closing the distance between them, her focus solely on Jax. Something about her seemed to give you pause, but you quietly stayed back and just watched the interaction. You had no idea who she was to him.

“I was hoping for a ride home,” she told him, stopping to talk to him at a fairly intimate distance. “I was having trouble with my car and I brought it in a bit ago, but no one had time to work on it today. And now I need a way to get home.”

You watched as she batted her eyelashes at him, flashing him a bit of a pout. Jax almost appeared annoyed in response as his shoulders tensed further, which was interesting considering how much of a show she was putting on and how familiar she seemed with him.

“Ima, the shop closed over an hour ago,” Jax pointed out. “You could have gotten a ride from any one of the guys in that time. You didn’t need to wait for me.”

“Well,” she continued, her tone dropping into something suggestive as she stepped towards him, raising a hand and resting it against his chest, “I was hoping we could…spend a bit of time together afterwards. You know, as a thank you for helping me out?”

At this point, you weren't sure if you should have just turned around or not. This was beginning to feel too personal, making you uncomfortable to be standing here listening to their conversation. But before you could even turn back around, Jax’s hand reached up and encircled her wrist before removing it from himself. 

“Find another ride home tonight, Ima,” he replied firmly. “It ain't gonna be me.” 

Jax focused back on you, raising his hand and waving you over with a faint smile. Ima finally returned her attention to you, a bitter glare on her face when she realized why she was being turned down. 

“C'mon, sunshine,” Jax said. “Let's get you home before it gets any damn later.”

You saw Ima beside him silently mouth the nickname ‘sunshine’ with a look of sheer contempt on her face. Not really sure what to do in this situation, you just followed after Jax when he waved you over again. When you neared Jax’s bike and he handed you the second helmet, you heard Ima let out something like a frustrated huff before she stalked off towards the clubhouse.

“Ignore her,” Jax told you as he put his own helmet on. “She's always bitching and whining about something.”

Pulling the helmet he had given you on, you eyed him curiously. “Girlfriend of yours?” you asked.

He laughed at that, a loud, hearty noise that drew a smile on your face. Not because of what he’d said, but because, like you’d noticed when he'd smiled at you a bit ago, he looked really good when that darkness behind his eyes dissipated.

“Hell no, darlin’,” he told you, still chuckling at the thought. “I don't do relationships, and if I did, that crazy ass broad would not be the one I'd pick.”

“Probably not the nicest way to talk about someone,” you gently pointed out. “But alright. Not a girlfriend then.”

He shook his head at you, still smiling as his gaze lingered on you for a long moment. Then he turned back towards his bike, swinging his leg over it before looking back at you.

“Hop on, sunshine,” he ordered, one hand patting the space behind him. 

Making your way over to the back of the bike, you ignored how awkward it was going to be holding onto him–a man you hardly knew–before you climbed onto the seat behind him. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you also chose to ignore the strange flutter of something in your stomach as you pressed yourself to his back. 

Jax turned the bike on once you'd settled behind him, the noise even louder than when you always heard them from inside your shop. Glancing over his shoulder at you, Jax sent you a cheeky grin that had your heart stuttering unexpectedly. 

“Hang on tight, sunshine,” he teased. “Wanna make sure I get you home nice and safe.”

[cozmowrites]

Sleep Deprived

3:25 am.

Streetlights outside your window casted a faint glow across your desk. A mountain of textbooks loomed over your laptop, the blinking cursor on a blank document that was taunting you. The quiet hum of the night was broken only by the faint ticking of the wall clock.

You knew you should sleep. Your body screamed for rest, but your mind stubbornly refused to acknowledge the passage of time. It was always like this—late nights turning into early mornings, the hours bleeding together as if the concept of sleep didn't apply to you.

You hadn't slept properly in weeks, not since the school workload became overwhelming. Not that you'd admitted it to anyone—not until tonight, at least.

Your phone buzzed on the desk, lighting up with a notification. You picked it up, squinting at the brightness.

Bakugou: Dumbass? Why are you still awake??

You blinked, momentarily disoriented due to the bright screen. How had he known? You hadn't texted him, hadn't posted anything online. You figured he must've noticed your exhausted demeanor at school earlier in the day—or maybe it was the dark circles under your eyes.

You: I'm fine. Just finishing some homework.

You replied, fingers flying across the keyboard. The response came almost immediately.

Bakugou: Don't lie to me. You've looked like a zombie for weeks. How long have you been pulling this crap?

You hesitated, chewing on your lip. You knew he wouldn't let this slide, but you also didn't feel like arguing. So, you answered casually, not thinking much of it.

You: I dunno, maybe a few weeks? No big deal.

The three dots signaling his typing disappeared and reappeared several times before his next message arrived. 

Bakugou: A FEW WEEKS? Are you an idiot?! Open your damn door. I'm coming over.

You groaned, slumping back in your chair. Of course, he was coming over. There was no stopping him once he made up his mind. You shuffled to the door of your dorm, opening it to let in the blonde. The moment you did, a familiar mop of spiky blonde hair appeared. Bakugou pushing himself in, and sitting on your bed.

"Seriously, Katsuki?" You muttered, stepping back to give him space. "It's the middle of the night."

He ignored your complaint, his crimson eyes narrowing as he took in your appearance. "Holy crap, you look worse than I thought. Have you even looked in a mirror?"

"Gee, thanks," you deadpanned, crossing your arms. "Nice to see you too."

"Don't start with me, dumbass," he growled, closing the window behind him. "What the hell are you doing to yourself?"

"It's just school," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "I'll catch up on sleep later."

"'Later'?" He echoed, his voice dripping with disbelief. "Do you even hear yourself? You can't just skip sleep for weeks and act like it's no big deal!"

You shrugged, brushing past him to sit on your bed. "I'm used to it."

"Well, I'm not," he snapped, following you. "You're gonna burn out, get sick, and then what? You think I'm just gonna sit back and watch you ruin yourself?"

You rolled your eyes, though guilt was starting to creep in. "I said I'm fine, Katsuki. You don't need to babysit me."

"Clearly, I do," he shot back, plopping down beside you. His sharp glare softened slightly as he studied your face. "Why didn't you tell me? I could've helped."

You hesitated, fumbling for an answer. "I didn't want to bother you..."

"Bother me?" he repeated incredulously. "You're my girlfriend, dumbass. You think I'd just ignore you?"

The room fell silent, his words hanging heavy in the air. You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, unable to meet his gaze. It wasn't that you didn't trust him—you did, more than anyone. But asking for help had always felt... impossible. Like admitting weakness. You and Bakugou were one in the same about that.

"I didn't think it was a big deal," you murmured finally.

"Well, it is," he said firmly. "And from now on, you're gonna take care of yourself. Got it?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And how do you plan to enforce that?"

A sly smirk tugged at his lips. "Easy. I'm staying here tonight."

Your eyes widened. "What?! Katsuki, you can't just—"

"Shut it," he interrupted, already kicking off his shoes. "I'm not leaving until I see you actually sleep. You're not pulling another all-nighter on my watch."

You opened your mouth to argue, but the determined look in his eyes stopped you. There was no point. Once Bakugou set his mind to something, there was no changing it.

With a resigned sigh, you crawled under the covers, feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious as he made himself comfortable on the floor beside your bed. "You don't have to sleep on the floor, you know," you muttered. "You're my boyfriend, you can sleep in the bed too."

"I'm fine," he replied, his voice softer now. "Just shut up and go to sleep."

Despite his gruff tone, there was a warmth in his words that made your chest ache. You hadn't realized how much you'd needed this. "Move up here or I won't go to sleep."

+++

The sunlight streaming through your window was the first thing you noticed when you woke up. The second was the faint smell of something cooking... or burning?

You bolted upright, your heart racing. "Katsuki?!"

"Calm down," he called from the kitchen. "I didn't burn the place down."

You stumbled out of bed, rubbing your eyes as you followed the sound of his voice. Sure enough, Bakugou was standing by the stove, glaring at a pan of what you assumed was supposed to be breakfast.

"What are you doing?" You asked, stifling a laugh.

"Making sure you eat," he grumbled, flipping something that vaguely resembled an omelet, but you couldn't tell because you were so hungry and sleepy. "You're not skipping meals either. Got it?"

You couldn't help but smile, your chest swelling with a mix of affection and gratitude. "You're unbelievable."

"And you're an idiot," he shot back, though there was no bite to his words. "But I'm stuck with you, so I guess I'll deal."

"Gee, thanks," you teased, leaning against the counter. "I feel so loved."

He rolled his eyes, but the faint blush dusting his cheeks betrayed him. "Just shut up and eat."

As you sat down to an edible breakfast, you realized that, for the first time in weeks, you actually felt rested. And it was all thanks to Bakugou's stubborn insistence.

"I love you, by the way.. Thanks."

"Tch. Love you too, dumbass. If I wasn't here, you'd be dead." Bakugou grumbled.

+++

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