#i genuinely thought i would like play the game for a few days get to meet everyone and then get bored.

[tianhai03]

you guys will never believe what ive been doing in the past week (i started playing love and deepspace)

[0097linersb]

𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 (m)

Pairings: Wooyoung x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 15k ~

Warnings: It´s a smut so +18 MDNI pls

Follow me on twitter: wooyosgfreal <3

Part 2

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

As someone who has been single for the past 2 years, you often found yourself missing certain things and feelings. It´s not even the dating in itself that you craved, you were in fact, very content with being alone, and after all your inner healing and growth, you didn´t even think you were ready for a relationship at this point in your life. But as you and Wooyoung were on your couch lazily spending the afternoon, you found your body and mind screaming for comfort at the sight of the rainy day outside. 

Your friend had his head on your lap as he played some online shooting game on his phone, the movie you intended on watching now only serving as background noise as you drifted off, hands absent-mindedly playing with the strands of his hair that fell on top of your thighs.  

Hand-holding. 

That´s something you really missed. The feeling of interlacing fingers with someone as warmness spread through your body. When you were dating, you weren´t even that into holding hands, uncomfortable with not being able to move freely or with the way your palm seemed to always feel clammy – But now? You would kill for a chance to walk around a park linked with someone.  

You also really missed being so familiar with someone that you just felt at ease, having a person there to do nothing or everything with, being able to talk or gossip about anything. You remember spamming Mingyu´s chat with every little thing that happened during your day and him just being genuinely happy to hear about it, replying to every single message in order. As your best friend, Wooyoung was someone you talked to a lot, but you still couldn´t text him about how you already drank 6 glasses of water or how you were annoyed because your stapler kept getting stuck – Those are the annoying little things you only get to share with a significant other that has the obligation to put up with you. 

And showering together. You almost felt dramatic tears fill your eyes at the thought of it; sharing the hot stream of water with someone, have them rub soap down your back or massage shampoo onto your scalp, or just simply holding someone in the dark under the running water as steam filled the room.  

Oh, and free massages. You definitely missed those, being able to ask for a massage at whatever given moment with the certainness that you would receive one. Mingyu´s love language had always been acts of service, meaning you wouldn´t spend a single day without his hands squeezing your shoulders or rubbing down your back.  

Maybe you should call Mingyu. Something along the lines of “hey, I know we broke up a few years ago but can you come like, hold me for a minute? Cuddle until we fall asleep?” 

You were so touch deprived you could cry. 

There was also the intimate part of a relationship; You had tried casual sex, one-night stands, friends with benefits, even a Tinder hook up once – It just wasn´t for you. It´s not even the sex on itself that you longed for, you could spend another few years without it if it came down to it. But you did miss what came with being intimate with someone who truly cared about you. When it comes to casual flings, people are normally selfish (yourself included), doing the bare minimum to get the other person off but truly aiming for their own pleasure; it was nice being with someone who´s main priority was making you feel good without the need of having the “favor returned”.  

What you really did miss though, was a bit cruder: You missed the feeling of someone´s dick in your mouth, the groans and whines that came with it, hands tangled in your hair, your tongue tracing hot veins as someone praised you. You missed having someone´s fingers inside of you, your walls tight around them as they pumped in and out of you with ease. You also really fucking missed someone eating you out. 

You subconsciously pulled a bit on Wooyoung´s hair out of frustration but he didn´t seem to notice, eyes fixated on his game. You gently pat his head where you had tugged on the strands and went back to playing with his hair, letting your mind take you away once again.  

Again, it´s not like your relationship with Mingyu ended badly, surely, he wouldn´t mind if you called him up to go down memory lane for a night- 

You had never noticed how plump Wooyoung´s lips were.  

He had a habit of pouting when he was focused, or biting on his lips when he was extra concentrated – which he was doing just now as he tried to shoot at someone who was trying to kill him. When he finally managed to take out the other player and escape, he let his bottom lip go, now all red and glistening as he cursed out loud. They just looked so soft and plushy, and the mole he had on his bottom lip –  

You suddenly realized you were kind of obsessed with Wooyoung´s nose shape. You know what people say about big noses… Also, how good would it feel bumping against - 

“You´re being way too nice. What´s going on?” Wooyoung´s voice suddenly interrupted your thoughts, causing you to jump in shock and realization that you were just thinking about your friend eating you out.  

“I am nice, just not to you,” You correct, meeting his eyes which were looking up as you noticed you were still running your fingers through his hair. 

“I have very strong opinions about that, but either way, it´s what I meant. Why are you being nice to me?” 

“Am I?” 

“I remember very clearly the last time I asked you to cuddle me, almost got down on my knees begging and you just looked at me like I had rolled around in the trash.”  

“You were quiet today, behaving like a normal person-” 

“Go on, call me a good boy. I know you want to,” He rolls his eyes. 

You laugh out loud at that; he did know you well. 

“Nah, you´ve ruined it the moment you opened your mouth.” 

“Guess I´m a bit further from perfect than I thought, getting there though. How was the movie anyways?” 

“Oh, did it end already?” You asked, finally looking at the TV and realizing the credits must have been rolling for a while. “Wasn´t paying attention.” 

“What were you even doing?” He furrowed his eyebrows at you, a second away from calling you stupid. 

“Thinking.” 

“About?” 

“Calling Mingyu,” You half-lied. 

At that, he managed to furrow his eyebrows even more, the biggest judgmental face he had ever sported looking up at you, “Why? Are you suddenly into him again?” 

“No.” 

“Then why?” 

“I don´t know, just-” 

“Oh my god,” His eyes widened, and he covered his mouth in shock. “It´s a booty call.” 

“It´s that what people call it these days?”  You ask, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole ordeal. 

“Oh my god, so it is.” 

“I guess?” 

“Y/N, it´s been like 2 years. I know you´re hot and he´s a man but I think that conversation would be kind of weird. Were you planning on texting him a wanna come smash?” He questioned you as he sat up. “Do you even have his number?” 

“No, I - I don´t know. I-  Let´s change the subject.” 

“Let´s absolutely not.” 

“You´re being annoying.” 

“Aren´t I always?” 

“Yes, defin-” 

“If you´re horny, why don´t you text that last guy you were going out with? He was hot too.” 

“Ew, don´t use the word horny.” 

“Would you prefer I call you needy?” 

Maybe you would, yeah, very much. 

“No, ew. Just stop talking all-together.” 

“So, why don´t you text him?” 

“You know I can´t really enjoy it much when I´m not like, close to the person.” 

“So you thought of your ex,” he deadpanned. 

“Yeah.” 

“Has literally not even one of the guys you hooked up with gotten you off?” 

“I mean, some of them did. But I don´t want to just get off, I-I- I don´t even know what I want, can we please chan-” 

“You want to be treated like the little pillow princess you are, got it.” 

Did he have to say it like that? Suddenly you felt the pulse between your legs raising its intensity. Oh god no, you were absolutely not getting turned on by Wooyoung´s crude choice of words. 

Anyone but Wooyoung! 

“Who says I´m a pillow princess? Am not!” 

“Ah, please. You scream I´ll bring nothing to the table besides looking pretty.” 

“Is that how I come off as?” You gasped at that, feeling deeply offended. “You´re full of shit.” 

“Why are you even getting mad? There´s nothing wrong with that, I´m sure you´re really good at looking pretty under a guy.” 

“Please stop picturing someone else fucking me?” 

“Who says I´m picturing someone else?” He winked at you teasingly. 

You literally, in your over 20 years of life on this earth, have never - not even once - thought you would actually choke over someone´s words. This was Wooyoung, you were used to his ways, c´mon! 

“Yeah, let´s not do that.” 

“Awn, pretty princess got flustered,” He cooed at you. 

You knew he was just teasing you; you knew there was no real sexual intent behind his words because that was Wooyoung, he flirted and teased as naturally as he breathed - but they still got your thighs tensing and you hating yourself for it. Couldn´t you just take a joke for what it was? 

“Although now that I´m thinking about it, I wouldn´t be surprised if you turned out to be a brat in bed. You´re already the biggest one normally.” 

“Look who´s calling me a brat,” You rolled your eyes once again. It didn´t matter if he was right or wrong, Wooyoung had no right calling anyone that when he was the way he was.  

At that, he presented you with the most attractive smile you think would ever exist in the world, a mixture between cunning, excitement and condescending, “You think I´m bratty?” 

“Oh, I´m sure of it.” 

“Maybe I´m just good at matching energies, you know?” He winked, teasing you further. 

“Fuck off. I know San forced you on your knees more often than I´d like to imagine.” 

“Because I allowed him to.” 

You snorted, “Yeah. Sure thing, honey. Now let´s move along, please.” 

Except that, your mind decided to in fact, consider his words. Wooyoung liked teasing and annoying people for his own entertainment, he whined at you every time he didn´t get things his way and he was always playfully flirting with everyone - and you meant literally everyone. Because of that, you had always just kind of assumed (but never spared it many thoughts, thank God) that your best friend was just someone who like to be dominated when in relationships, or sexual encounters for the matter.  

But honestly, you could kind of see it differently after his comments. It was true he always had everyone wrapped around his fingers and somehow, he always managed to get things his way - Wasn´t that also some form of control? The lines were kind of blurred when it came to Jung Wooyoung, but that was kind of even more attractive to you.   

“Oh my god, you´re thinking about it,” Wooyoung teased.  

“You´re the one who started it!” 

“You don´t have to stress your pretty little head over it,” He smiled, his finger finding it´s place under your chin to tip your face in his direction playfully. “I can show you.” 

Oh, absolutely not. 

Your eyes fluttered shut for a millisecond at his words, your guard crumbling surprisingly fast as you practically whimpered, “I know you´re joking but can we please not?” 

“Why?” 

 Couldn´t he stop giving you that annoying freaking smile? 

“Because I am kind of horny and I really don´t want to go there,” You practically growled.  

Now he was the one who broke character, not expecting you to be actually affected by his jokes, before the teasing smile was back on his face in a heartbeat - but you saw it. 

“Did I make you horny?” He teased. 

“Of course not, I was already horny before. I´m just in a weird mood.” 

It wasn´t necessarily a lie. If you weren´t already feeling some type of way since earlier, you would have never - and you really mean that - caught yourself thinking about Wooyoung´s stupid plump lips or if he could actually fuck you.  

“So, you were thinking about getting dicked down while I was here innocently lying down on your lap? You´re dirty,” He snickered. 

“It wasn´t weird until you made it weird,” You groaned in frustration. This is really not how you imagined your afternoon would go down.  

“Want me to help you out?” 

“Got any hot friends who are also not my friends?” 

“I do,” He nodded with his head. “But I´m also right here.” 

Your eyes almost flew out of your head. You always judged yourself as the only person immune to Wooyoung's weirdness, deeming that nothing the man did or say would ever surprise you since you basically were the same - but you now guessed the tests became harder as the years passed.  

“I can´t really tell if you´re joking-“ 

“I am absolutely not.” 

“Yeah, not going to happen.” 

“Why?” 

“Because!” 

“I know you can use your big girl words.” 

“Because as much as it pains me to admit it, we´re best friends. I guess?” 

“Now you´re the one who´s making it weird. You´re hot, I´m hot. You´re horny, now I´m horny. What´s wrong with helping each other out?” 

“What´s wrong is that I never really saw you like that!” You whined. 

“But you´re seeing now.” 

“Yeah, and I don´t like it!” 

“Tell me,” He raised an eyebrow at you, a devilish glint on his eyes matching his smile once again.  

“What?” 

“What you imagined me doing to you.” 

“Oh my god. Nothing!” 

“Oh c´mon, I won´t think you´re in love with me or anything. I know we´re friends and I´m a man, if there is one thing I can understand is simple plain old horniness.”  

“How is this so easy for you?” 

“Oh, I already imagined fucking you many times. In many different ways, too,” Wooyoung stated so casually, like he was talking about his shopping list for when he went to the supermarket later. “You know that one time at Seonghwa´s pool when you were wearing that little orange bikini? I must have made up at least 4 different scenarios, just that day.” 

“I feel kind of violated?”  

You also felt the way something throbbed in between your legs at his words but he didn´t need to know that. 

“As I said: I´m a man, Y/N. I love you and would never do anything to make you uncomfortable or fuck up our friendship, but there´s nothing wrong with fantasizing. It´s not like I actively decide to do it either, it just happens, I don´t know.” 

“Do you just casually think about fucking all your friends?” 

“No, only the hot ones. And it´s not something I keep thinking about all the time, I´m not a creep. Just once every blue moon hormone takes over or something. Also, you´re a fool if you think any of your other friends who are into women have never, not even once, thought about fucking you.”  

“Yeah, I´d rather be a fool,” You rolled your eyes. “Also, San hasn´t!” 

“San would quit his dream job in a heartbeat if I called him over for a threesome right now.” 

“Yunho then! He would never -” 

Wooyoung laughed at that, “Honey, I have something to tell you-“ 

“Please don´t.” 

“Anyways, you´re not lacking options to help you out. All I´m saying is that I´m here and I´d be more than glad to be the one,” He had the audacity of winking at you. “Since you were already thinking about it.” 

“I´m begging you to please drop it.” 

“Only if you tell me what you were thinking about.” 

“Oh my god! You know what? Let´s play your stupid fucking game, Jung Wooyoung. I´ll tell you if you tell me first.” 

“So, you do know how to have fun,” Wooyoung gave you a big smile, his eyes disappearing in happiness as if you had just told him you got him a new car. “What do you want to know?” 

“About the day at Seonghwa´s pool.” 

“Fun. I will use your own words then: I was in a weird mood that day and then you just took your clothes off and looked so good in that bikini. You were sunbathing and at some point in the afternoon you went inside Hwa´s house to get something from the kitchen and my brain just kept flashing images in my head: what if I followed you into the empty house, pushed you against the nearest wall and fucked you, watching as you tried to keep quiet so the others wouldn´t hear from right outside? Your cheek red from rubbing against the wall, your -” 

“That´s scenario number one.” 

“You want all of them? Kinky.” 

“I can just go-“ 

“Calm down, princess. See? I knew you were a brat.” 

“Wooyo-“ 

“Later when I was sitting down on the sunbathing chair with you while you were helping me out with the sunscreen, I noticed how my hand was so close I could pull the bottom of your bikini to the side and just slip my fingers in, right there in the open, no one would even notice. I wondered if you were already going to be wet and how you would sound trying to keep your noises inside with my knuckles deep into you. I couldn´t imagine a better sight than you all pretty clenching around my fingers or how you would look trying to casually spread your legs for me without anyone suspecting. I even went as far as imagining us getting caught, can you picture Mingi noticing what a little slut you are and trying to watch without getting caught himself? Poor boy wouldn´t know what to do with himself, would just loose his mind at how hot you´d look. I wondered if you´d like that he was watching –“ 

“That´s scenario number two,” You interrupted before the skin where you dug your nails into could start bleeding from your efforts to ground yourself and not squirm like an animal in heat at Wooyoung´s words. 

He was good, you had to give him that.  

Wooyoung laughed at you and you wondered if he had any clue about what he was doing to you. Then you mentally slapped yourself because of course he did, he had eyes.  

“When everyone went inside to make some drinks and start on dinner, you sat there on the edge of the pool and started kicking water at me. Remember that? I happened to notice the edge was just the perfect height for me to eat you out from the pool, and you even had your back to the door. We were all alone out there and even if someone came out, I would be hidden from their view in between your legs. I could picture my hands holding your thighs open and your back arching-” 

“Yeah, ok. That´s enough. I´m going to go, humm, shower or something and you can just like leave-” 

“Can I join?” He joked as you stood up. 

“No.” 

“Can I at least stay outside listening?” 

“What? I´m not going to mastu- Wooyoung, I´m just taking a cold shower.” 

“OK, go cool yourself off, princess. I´ll wait for you here,” He informed, unlocking his phone once again and showing you his screen where his game was loading. 

“Yeah, ok. Suit yourself.” 

“You really should let me listen as payback for getting me horny,” He screamed once you were already down the hallway. 

“You got yourself horny,” You screamed back before shutting the bathroom door behind yourself. 

You silently screamed against your hands as you let your body slide down the door. 

What the hell just happened? How many lines did you just cross?  

Why was Wooyoung suddenly so hot? 

And so, a cold shower you took and thankfully, after you left the bathroom, no one talked about the subject for the rest of the night and just pretended that nothing had happened. 

Except that now you were miserable and your mind echoed Wooyoung´s words every time you looked or thought about him. It was not optimal to be crossing your legs in the middle of class at university because you accidentally caught yourself staring at your friend´s veiny arms for half of the lecture. 

★  

“You´re still horny,” Wooyoung stated a few days later when you were literally getting ice cream after class. 

“And I´m actually mortified that you noticed.” 

“You´re being stubborn.” 

“We´re not fucking, Wooyoung.” 

“Dude, at this point I am genuinely feeling bad for you. We can ask Mingi or whoever, just please get some dick.” 

“You´re being kind of sexist-” 

“Y/N, you look constipated. I am worried for your sanity.” 

“Just shut up before I stop talking to you.” 

“I can use a blindfold or something if you´re worried about me seeing you naked-” 

“You´d like that, wouldn´t you? Submissive bitch.” 

“Don´t degrade me unless you mean it,” He winked at you. 

“You are actually insufferable.” 

“I´m just trying to help.” 

“You can´t because you don´t understand that this isn´t just about getting some dick!” 

“So what is this about? You tense every time my hands get near you -” 

“Wooyoung, this is an ice cream parlor. There are kids around, just shut the fuck up.” 

“So let´s go to my place.” 

“I´m not getting inside any closed spaces with you unless there are more people around.” 

“Kinky.” 

“Oh my god, you know what I mean.” 

“I know, just let me tease you. Ok, but seriously now, I think that in order for me to do my duties as a best friend, I need to understand what´s going on.” 

“Since when do you care about your best friend duties? You once left me behind alone at a party to get fucked by Yeonjun or whatever you two-” 

“Allegedly.” 

“No, Wooyoung. Not allegedly, it was literally me that you dragged to a corner to inform you´d be going upstairs with Yeonjun-” 

“No one knows what happened in that room.” 

“Yeah, thank god.” 

“Ok, whatever. Let me help you, tell me what´s going on inside that little messed up brain of yours.” 

“Nop. I really would rather lock myself inside the industrial freezer in the back.” 

“Yeah? Then I´m texting Mingi to go to your place and give you the fuck of your life tonight-” 

“Wooyoung!” 

“Y/N!” 

“Just drop it.” 

“No! Do you actually miss Mingyu? Or dating? Do you want a boyfriend? Is that it?” 

“No,” You groaned, hitting your forehead against the table.  

“So?” 

“Just- I need alcohol if we´re going to talk about this.” 

“Ok, let´s go to-” 

“Wooyoung, it´s 2 in the afternoon.” 

And so, he let it go for the moment, but the next time he saw a single drop of alcohol near you, he sat down next to you and crossed his hands like he meant business, a pointed look on his face. 

★ 

“So?” 

“This is literally my first shot.” 

“Then take it.” 

“Fine,” You begrudgingly complied, and you hadn´t even placed your glass back down before Wooyoung was already pouring you more. Figuring you weren´t going to escape this conversation, you downed your second shot and sighed in defeat. 

“Now tell me why you aren´t getting your back blown out at this very moment.” 

“It´s really weird talking about sex with you.” 

“We talk about sex all the time.” 

“Yeah, about other people, not about me, or about you suddenly being willing to fuck me- “ 

“Not suddenly.” 

“Yeah, whatever. Pour me some more.” 

“That´s what I like to hear,” He smirked at you, eyes glinting as he filled your glass up.  

“Y/N looks miserable,” Mingi suddenly stated, dropping his body next to you on the couch coming from seemingly nowhere.  

“Doesn´t she?” Wooyoung agreed, giving you a pointed look as you punched Mingi for the out-of-pocket comment. 

“Where did you even come from?” You asked the tall man next to you, excited for a change of topic. 

“The kitchen,” He absentmindedly answered you, hand busy filling up the glasses in front of you before handing you one. “Take a shot with me.” 

And so you did, hissing at the burning sensation and taking deep breaths to not gag at the taste of tequila. 

“OK, why does it look like your house burned down?” The man turned his attention back to you after smashing the empty glass on the little center table in front of you. 

Damn it, Mingi. 

You didn´t even have the time to begin forming any kind of excuses before Wooyoung  answered for you in a heartbeat, “Little Y/N over here is horny.” 

“Jung Wooyoung!” You gasped at his choice of words, thorn between hiding behind your hands, punching the man and apologizing to Mingi. 

Mingi, in turn, was frozen in shock mid pouring himself another shot. And you meant that the man wasn´t even blinking, mouth open and hands stuck in the air holding the glass bottle which you took from him afraid he would break it. 

“See what you´ve done?” You sighed to Wooyoung, elbowing his ribs as you tried waving your hand in front of Mingi´s face for a reaction.  

“Wait, what?” Said man came back to life, his voice way higher than what you´re used to. 

“You heard it, man. She hasn´t been fucked right in ages-” 

“Wooyoung, you know what you said about wanting to keep up with your best friend´s duties?” You asked between gritted teeth, about ready to jump the man and rip all of his hair out. “This is really not it.” 

“But you´re hot!” Mingi seemed confused. 

“I told her that!” Wooyoung ignored you. “I even told her you´d volunteer to help her out-” 

“I so would-” 

“Shut the fuck up, you two! Wooyoung, I´m about a second away from blocking you on my phone and never seeing you again,” You were also as close to ripping your own hair out. “Yes I´m horny, the whole world doesn´t need to hear about it.”  

Mingi noticed the crazy look behind your eyes and rubbed your back in comfort, he too knew what Wooyoung could do to people when he decided to be annoying.  

“It´s ok, love. We´ve all been there,” Mingi assured you and his words did soothe you a bit.  

“It´s just – You guys don´t get it. It´s not about just sex. I know I could literally fuck anyone at this party if I wanted to, I´m not dense. I guess I just miss dating but I don´t really want to date anyone at the moment?” 

“So like a friends with benefits thing?” Wooyoung pressed. 

“No, that´s just fucking with a fancy title. I mean like, I miss being touched and hugged and pampered and – I don´t know.” 

“Every time I try to hug you, you freeze and glare at me!” Mingi pouted. 

“I´m just not a touchy person!” 

“I know! That´s why I´m not understanding what you want.” 

“Just forget it-” 

“I get it,” Wooyoung interrupted.  

“Do you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“You want a boyfriend without the obligations and feelings involved with a relationship. I was right, you´re needy.” 

“Oh,” Apparently it made sense to Mingi too. 

“Ok, and with that, I excuse myself,” You say, already standing up to go find someone else to hang out with because you were definitely not ready for the rest of that conversation. 

★ 

“What are you doing here?” You asked in annoyance after opening the door to your place to a very content looking Wooyoung. 

"I came to be your boyfriend-not-boyfriend,” He smiled proudly. 

"We're not fucking, Wooyoung,” You managed to sigh and roll your eyes at the same time. "Which is exactly what I told you the other 50 times you suggested it." 

"Who said anything about fucking? I'm just here to force the touch-deprivation out of you. Now move, I brought snacks," He said as if he hadn't already pushed you out of the way about midway through his sentence.   

You sighed in defeat, accepting your peaceful quiet night was ruined - You hadn't even locked the door yet and Wooyoung was already sprawled on your couch organizing the snacks on your coffee table, making way more noise than necessary.  

"At least you brought my favorite," You noticed, arms crossed as you stood up next to the couch.  

"These are all your favorites," His eyes were even shining with the amount of pride he had for himself. 

"Says who?" 

"Says me." 

"You called Seonghwa, didn't you?" 

"Only about the chips." 

"Knew it." 

"It's not my fault you literally change your opinions every day." 

"Welcome to girlhood." 

"Now sit down and I'll put something on Netflix." 

"Wooyoung, why-" 

"Y/N, listen," It was his turn to sigh. "You helped me through a lot when everything happened with my grandpa and you were always there for me when shit went down, just let me help you this once however I can." 

"Ok, got it. Enough with the sentimental talk," You quickly obeyed. You didn't like serious Wooyoung.  

"Now, are we feeling Criminal Minds?" He asked once you were sitting next to him, remote in hand. 

"Sounds great." 

“Perfect,” Wooyoung agreed as he put on the show, quickly standing up to turn off the lights before sitting back down and opening his arms. “Come here.” 

“Uh, I would rather not.” 

“I don´t care, we´re doing this.” 

“I don´t think forcing me to cuddle you will help much-” 

“Do you want me to really force you? Because I can,” He raised his eyebrow at you, arms still hanging in the air. 

“I´m pretty sure I´m stronger than you-” 

“Oh my god, just shut up,” He groaned and rolled his eyes at the same time, bending his body forward so he could grab onto your waist and pull you against his chest.  

Ok, yeah. He was definitely stronger than you. 

“Can you not make it so difficult?” He asked once he noticed how stiff you were in between his legs. “Stretch your legs, relax.” 

You decided against reminding him that he was in fact forcing you to do this and obeyed, he was just trying to help after all and maybe he did have a point: Some human touch might help calm your mind down. Also, the quicker you played along, the sooner it would be over.  So, stretching your legs across the couch you did, letting your body relax against Wooyoung´s, who contently wrapped his arms around you as you both turned your attention towards the Tv.  

Well, that lasted for about 10 minutes before you started feeling the heat of your friend´s skin radiating and everything started making sense: Being held by someone you loved really was comforting. Huh, who would have guessed? 

You generally hated being touched by people but right now you kind of felt like a cat, wanting to rub your head on Wooyoung´s shirt and snuggle into his warmth.  

“Can I play with your hair or will you bite my hand of?”  

“You can try,” You answered, not wanting to admit he was right all along and that you would very much like more of whatever this was.  

You could practically feel the roll of his eyes at your threatening tone as he pulled your head like you were just one big barbie doll, so your right cheek would be rested against his chest, turning your body to the side so now your right shoulder kind of met his chest instead of your back.  

“Ouch, you could be gentler,” You complained, rubbing your forehead skin where his palm was planted seconds before.  

“When you deserve it,” He grunted, eyes fixed on the Tv.  

“That was not very let me help you of you.” 

It was easy to tell he bit back his comeback, simply taking a deep calming breath and burying his fingers in the hair behind your neck, gently rubbing the area – Maybe you would purr. Judging you now had the upper hand, you decided to in return wrap your own arms around his wait so you could get comfortable and Wooyoung  gave you a cocky victory smile. 

Damn it. 

The two of you went through the entire episode like that and you were so relaxed that when Wooyoung stood up to open the snacks and grab some wine, you didn´t even complain about how that was a bad idea, sharing some glasses while you watched the second and third episodes and he tossed you around into every cuddling position you never even knew existed, discussing who you though were the killers and all the little gossips of the week. 

“You could create like a cuddling Kama Sutra,” You joked, kind of dizzy because of the drink – or because you had an incredibly attractive man holding you for the past 2 hours or so.  

“Will you quit complaining about my touchy personality now?” He smiled. 

“Nah, this was a one-time thing.” 

“Are you at least feeling a bit better?” Wooyoung asked, adjusting himself on the couch to look at you since you were now sitting side to side after the last episode ended.  

“Yes, actually.” 

It was true, you were no longer feeling like you could rip your entire skin off if you went through another second of someone not touching you.  

“I have one last move prepared,” He informed excitedly. 

“We´re not fucki-” 

“Oh my god, will you quit it with the fucking thing? If you keep bringing It up I might start thinking you´re interested-” 

“What was the idea?” You quickly asked, trying to cut the flirting off before it could lead your brain somewhere you spent the entire night not wanting to go.  

“Let me give you a massage.” 

“Wow, you´re really invested in this helping me thing.”  

“Contrary to your big mouth, I am a good friend. Sit down right here,” Wooyoung ordered, opening his legs and pointing to the space on the floor in between his feet. “Tonight I´ll take the neediness out of you the best I can since you refuse to go out and get some dick.” 

You rolled your eyes and ignored his remark, sitting down where he showed you and waiting silently as he gently gathered your hair and moved it out of the way. You cursed at how your skin erupted in goosebumps as his fingertips brushed against the side of your neck, your breath suddenly caught in your chest. 

You followed the realization that this was probably a horrible idea with another glass of wine, thankful he couldn't feel your heart beating fast.  

Wooyoung worked his thumbs in circles, digging them between your scapulae and pressing them up until they reached your shoulders, which he squeezed in the perfect strength to get shivers running up your spine every minute as he repeated the motion over and over.  

“How are you so good at this?” You whined, hating how your body was reaction to the touches. 

“There´s really nothing I´m not good at.” 

“Humbleness,” You offered. 

“That was a cliché answer, you can do better than that.” 

“I don´t care, just please never stop.” 

“I get that a lot.” 

“Do you really need to make everything sexual?” 

“I´ve always been that way, it´s not my fault that now that you´re horny it´s bothering you.” 

You hated when he put it like that, because yes. 

And maybe the way he sometimes would squeeze your neck during the massage or just the fact that he was touching you, were getting you feeling some type of way you would rather he did not notice.  

“If you were a girl, you´d understand,” You groaned. “Ovulation sucks.” 

“You actually just gave yourself the perfect solution, why don´t you fuck a girl?” 

´Cause what I really want is fucking you. 

Oh, wow.  

Where did that come from? 

“Speaking of which, do you even know how to?” You ask, admittedly kind of shy of asking such question.  

“Know how to what?” 

“Like, have- you like- With women?” You try, motioning widely towards the couch with your hands as if it would help you get your point across so you wouldn´t have to say the words. 

Wooyoung seemed to get it though, hands suddenly stopping on your back so you would look at him, “Y/N, you do know I have fucked women, right?” 

“How would I? You never told me!” You whine. 

“I thought it would be disrespectful?” 

“But when you told me how much you loved choking on San´s dick it wasn´t?” 

“Well, no-” 

“Or when you literally shared about how you thought about your fingers inside of me?” 

“You asked for it!” 

“I don´t believe you,” You narrowed your eyes towards him. “There´s no way I wouldn´t have known.” 

“Do you want like a list or something?” 

“What? No! That would be disrespectful.” 

“See?” 

“Ok, no, wait. Just tell me this: Lauren?” 

“Yes.” 

“Wooyoung, nooooo!” You whined. 

“What? She´s hot!” He was exasperated. 

“Oh my god, everything makes so much sense now.” 

“Wait, did you really think I was gay? We´ve know each other for years! I talk about women all the time!” 

“Yeah, but I thought you talked about women like Kevin talks about Beyoncé! Like in a slayy pussy  queennn way, not in a I´d want to fuck her way.”  

“Would you like me to go around harassing women?” 

“No, listen: I didn´t think you were gay, I just kind of never thought about it?” 

"You though I was just joking around with you the other day and you still got all hot and bothered?" Would he quit teasing you? "Kinky." 

“I thought you were playing and I didn't get any way!" 

“Whatever you say, princess - Wait, why did you think Ali was always hanging around my neck all these months?” 

“I just thought she was kind of crazy – Wait, did you fuck her that good? She wouldn´t leave us alone for a second, it was driving me insane." 

“I just told you there´s nothing I´m not good at,” He winked at you with a cocky smile on his face. 

You wanted to die.  

“Wooyoung,” You warned. 

“Awn, am I getting to you?” His tone was so sarcastic and condescending that a fire burned inside of you that you were afraid was never going out.  

“It´s the wine,” You assured, more yourself than him. 

“It´s always something.” 

“See? That´s why I told you I didn´t want to be alone with you.” 

“Afraid you´ll jump me?” He mocked. “I´m not scared.” 

"Just shut up. If whatever you're saying is true, I just want you to know you have the worst taste in women ever." 

"Well, considering I would love to taste you more than I would anyone else, I agree," He played with your words.  

“Go wash the glasses,” You ordered, the skin under your cheeks burning.  

“Yes, ma’am,” He answered with a laugh, immediately standing up and following along.  

When you were alone in the living room, your face fell between your hands in despair. 

You fucking hated Jung Wooyoung and his fucking giant noise. 

★  

Stupid fucking Jung Wooyoung.  

Fucking hell.  

Cursed be the day that man was born and cursed be the hospital and the doctors and the nurses and everyone in the world for all you cared. 

Your entire body was filled with rage as you opened the stupid coffee maker to pour the water into the compartment – which you had of course forgotten to fill 10 minutes earlier and almost burnt the whole office down. How would you explain to your boss that you started a fire because your brain was simply too busy flashing images of you sitting on your stupid annoying best friend´s face for the past 4 hours? 

It has been 2 days since the day at your place, 2 nights since you've gotten a decent night of sleep. "Why is that?" One would ask. Well, the answer would be that your useless brain decided to sabotage you, having you dream about your best friend over and over again – Which wouldn't be so bad if 90% of the dreams didn't consist of you ridding said best friend's face, waking up sweating and wanting to scream. 

At this point you just wanted to break Wooyoung's nose with a punch, so you'd never have to think about it again. After almost ripping your hair out in front of your computer, you decided on texting Hoshi for Mingyu's number - That's how desperate you were to get stupid fucking Jung Wooyoung out of your head. At least your friend assured that your ex was indeed single now and still didn't hate you, which was enough for you.  

Not really knowing how to tell your ex-boyfriend, after so much time has passed, that you just wanted him to throw you around, things weren't going as fast as planned and you couldn't keep avoiding Wooyoung forever – One, because he has no sense of boundaries and would just show up at your place if you ignored him and two, you really didn't want to have the conversation that would go down when he found out why you weren't around.  

It'd been over a week since you last saw Wooyoung in person, you were still in the talking stages with Mingyu, dreaming about your friend every fucking night and staring at his picture on the chatting app for hours while wanting to die. Now, you kind of genuinely didn't care anymore, Mingi and Wooyoung were right, maybe this was just about getting some dick – and you would find out if one could die of horniness if you didn't get some soon.  

It was Saturday night, Hongjoong decided to throw a small party at his place to celebrate his birthday and you figured alcohol was a good solution since stabbing a knife into your brain wasn't an option. You even invited Mingyu, hoping in person and after a few drinks you'd figure how to ask him to bend you over – The man said he would be pretty late because of previous scheduled commitments but that he would go. Your ex was an incredibly attractive man who knew his way around a lady, maybe you would see all your problems flying away after tonight. 

Except that after your first cup and some chatting with Mingi and Seonghwa on Hongjoong's couch, Wooyoung decided to arrive.  

You took one (1) - ONE, UNO - look at the man and grabbed your phone, shooting Mingyu a text: don´t come, party´s canceled. 

“Bro, your hair looks sick!” Mingi shouted before your brain could even begin to process what you were seeing. 

You were the one actually about to be sick. 

“Decided to try something new,” Wooyoung smirked, jumping over the back of the couch to sit next to you. 

You simply stared at him dumbfounded, glad he was too busy stealing the drink from your hands to notice your mouth wide open.  

Jung Wooyoung just showed up to the party with the bottom part and the front strands of his hair dyed blonde and you weren´t sure what kind of look that even was but you felt like it genuinely changed your whole life. You were pretty sure you got goosebumps when you first looked at him, lucky you were sitting down with the way your legs got weak. 

“What do you think about it?” He asked you after he was content with finishing what was left in your cup. 

“I hate it.” 

Well, you weren´t lying. Your nails were literally digging into the palm of your hands to try and get your head back in place - The new look made his skin look tanner, the mole under his eye darker, the shape of his nose - 

 The way he pushed his hair back, blonde strands surrounding his face - 

No, nop. 

No. 

“Since I know you´re joking, I´m gonna go say hi to Hongjoong and grab us more drinks so we can get this party started.” 

You let him go with absolutely no fight, eyes wide and glued to his form until he was out of your sight as Seonghwa led him to where the birthday boy was supposed to be. 

“Are you ok?” Mingi asked, noticing the crazy look on your face. 

“I need Wooyoung to fuck me.” 

Your brain definitely was short-circuiting. 

“Oh. Wow. Ok.” 

“I´m being serious. And I´m not happy about it.” 

“Hasn´t he been offering for like weeks now?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So just go and tell him.” 

“That´s not how it works.” 

“Oh my god, why do you have to be so complicated?” 

“I need him to offer again so I can say no, then when he insists, I will give in and pretend I´m kind of thorn about it.” 

“And why is that?” 

“So he doesn´t know he won! And I don´t like being vulnerable or whatever.” 

“I know we said you need some dick, but maybe you just need some therapy.” 

“Yeah, that too, but what I really need right now is your help.” 

“Sure,” Mingi shrugged. That´s what you liked about him, things were simple with him. 

“I need him to think I´m horny.” 

“You are horny.” 

“Yeah, but I need him to see it so he will joke about helping me out again.” 

“And how are you going to do that?” 

“Well, I could stand here with a bitch face all night, but it´s Joong´s birthday so I don´t really want to be like that. I don´t really have any other ideas-” 

“Touch me.” 

“What?” 

“Like, be touchy with me.” 

“Oh, that could work.” 

“That will definitely work.” 

“You´re good,” You complimented. 

“You should come to me for help more often.” 

“Don´t push it.” 

“Fine.” 

“You´re invested, huh?” 

“Move closer,” He ordered and you obeyed, sitting sideways on the couch so you were turned towards him, left knee touching his thigh. “Lean forward and put your hand on my thigh.” 

Despite your body´s discontent, you did as told. 

“And don´t flinch when I touch you,” He warned.  

“I feel like a spy,” You joked. 

“All this because you can´t tell a guy you want to fuck,” He rolled his eyes. 

“C´mon, pretend you´re not enjoying this, I dare you.” 

“Touché.” 

When your friends came back with more people tagging along, the first thing you noticed was the way Wooyoung´s gaze traveled immediately to your hand on Mingi´s thighs.  

Ok, yeah, this could definitely work. 

“Here, princess,” He handed you your drink, which you grabbed with your free hand.  

“Thanks Wooyo,” You smiled at the man before turning your attention back to Mingi, not missing the way your friend squeezed his eyes at you.  

Thankfully, Wooyoung didn´t say anything about it, sitting down on the floor in front of the couch as a circle naturally formed in the living room so everyone could play something, and the first choice was the 007 game. You went along with the plan, hitting Mingi´s thigh instead of your own, touching his arm when you had to laugh, not going stiff when his hand met the skin almost at the hem of your skirt. 

You know what? Mingi was actually really hot too, if this night didn´t end how you expected it to, you were so horny you were just about considering asking him to fuck you.  

Whenever you looked in Wooyoung´s direction, you could practically see the engines turning in his head. It was just a matter of time now and you were already feeling shaky with excitement, which you weren´t exactly thrilled about – But then you looked at him again with that stupid hair and that stupid nose and that stupid half-unbuttoned shirt and decided that to hell with your morals and ethics. 

Mingi apparently decided his role in the ploy wasn´t enough for him, since after an hour or so passed by and people started standing up to go after more drinks or socialize with other people, he waited for Wooyoung to approach before asking loud and clear, “So, any luck with the getting some dick thing?” 

You were not exactly a good actress but you did know how to flirt, so not really knowing how else to react to the sudden improvisation, you smiled at him, “Why? Know someone interested?” 

“Yeah, nice to meet you. I´m Song Mingi,” He half-joked, hand still heavy on your thigh. “Oh, Wooyoung. You´re here, didn´t see you there.” 

He was good, you had to give him that. 

“I can see why,” Wooyoung answered, eyes pointing at the contact between you two.  

“Jealous?” Mingi asked his friend, his tone was humorous, but you could see the challenge in his eyes. Even though he was just playing, he couldn´t help being an egotistical Leo. 

“I wouldn´t say jealous is the right word.” 

“Did you know Y/N invited Mingyu over?” Mingi laughed. 

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow at you, eyes dancing with amusement.  

“I already uninvited him, asshole.” 

“Is that why you´re all touchy today?”  Mingi asked. Ok, you would have to buy him some ice cream after the phenomenal performance he was delivering. “Thought you would convince her to fuck someone, Woo.” 

“Believe me, I tried,” He shrugged. 

“Can we quit talking about me like I´m not here? Also, I´m not an animal in heat, stop being weird.” 

Well, weren´t you?  

Really? 

“You sure seem like it,” Wooyoung completed. 

“You look hornier than me, Wooyoung.” 

“I´m not denying it,” He stated matter-of-factly. 

“Oh shit, I forgot my phone with Yunho,” Mingi cursed, suddenly petting his pockets. He was so convincing you almost forgot he was helping you out. “Shit, shit, shit. I´ll be back later.” 

With that he stood up and quickly marched out of the living room, Wooyoung lazily taking his place next to you on the couch. 

“Were you really about to let Mingi fuck you?” 

“Maybe?” You answer, and well, that wasn´t a lie either. 

“Ouch, that kind of hurts my ego.” 

“Mingi and I are just friends, now you and I are best friends. There´s a huge difference there.” 

“So, you´re saying you´d fuck me if we weren´t best friends?” He joked. “Wow, thank you. I´m shy now. No need for all these compliments.” 

You rolled your eyes, not sure what to say that would lead you towards what you wanted, choosing to just be normal and hope the night would eventually get you there. 

“Why did you cancel on Mingyu?” 

“Didn´t think he would throw me around today.” 

“Someone´s getting bold.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I actually like frustrated Y/N, it´s hot.” 

“Then stop bothering me to fuck someone and let me be frustrated in peace.” 

“Well, that seems nice but I´m sure you´d look much hotter getting the frustration out.” 

“Are we back to the “you imagining someone fucking me” thing?” 

“I could correct you once again saying that I´m not imagining someone else, but since you´ve made it pretty clear that you´re not interested, I´m not going to.” 

That was it, that was your moment. 

“And what if I tell you maybe I am?” 

He stopped to give you a knowing cocky smirk that made you immediately regret raising the white flag, “I know.” 

“What? Ho- No -” 

“Y/N, you wouldn´t stop staring at me like you wanted me to destroy you in front of everyone while Mingi literally had his hand on you.” 

“That´s not -” 

“Do I have to pretend I think you were squirming because of him and not me? I can play dumb if you´d like. I can even go call him back if you tell me you weren´t wishing it was my hand almost getting under your skirt instead of his. So, are you going to give in now or are we going to keep playing this game?” 

“Wooyoung-” 

“We´re best friends, I know. But I don´t see how you avoiding me because you get wet every time I´m around is doing our friendship any favors either.” 

Ok, he did make a pretty good case even though you were already convinced like an hour ago. 

“You´re right.” 

“I know.” 

“So?” 

“I´m not fucking you at Hongjoong´s.” 

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded – also not liking how the tables have turned one bit. Wooyoung in turn laughed and sent you another playful wink, “Trust me, you won´t want anyone around.” 

“It took a lot from me to come to terms with this, so we´re either doing it tonight or we´re not doing it.” 

“Oh, princess,” He gave you a condescending look that got you wanting to rip his hair out. “I find that hard to believe, but I appreciate the enthusiasm.” 

“Wooyoung-” 

“Y/n,” His voice was calm, hand finding its place on your thigh where Mingi´s was earlier, except this time the touch burned and got you fighting for your life not to squirm. “I said I´m not fucking you at Hongjoong´s, not that I´m not fucking you.” 

“Then let´s go.” 

“Now, that would be rude, wouldn´t it?” 

“Why are being like this?” You whined, about a second away from actually hitting the cockiness out of him.  

“You have this needy look in your eyes, like you´re ready to drop down and beg at any moment,” He smiled, his free hand gently tucking your hair behind your ear like he wasn´t talking about you on your knees. “It´s cute.” 

“You know what will be cute? When I ask Mingi to fuck me instead.” 

“If you can go to Hongjoong, in front of everyone, and tell him that we need to leave his birthday party right now because you can´t wait for me to fuck you, I´m good to go.” 

“Have you always been this annoying?” 

“Only when I know you´ll like it.” 

“You know you were the one asking to fuck me for weeks, right?” 

“I know.” 

“You just know everything, don´t you?” 

“See? You´re hot when you´re frustrated.” 

“You think I´m sexually frustrated but now I´m actually just mad at you.” He simply smiled at you in return, and you rolled your eyes once you realized where you had dug your grave, “I forgot you have a degradation kink or whatever. Can´t even be angry at you in peace anymore.” 

“If you´re really mad at me, we should fix that. I wouldn´t want my best friend to be angry at me.” 

“I don´t think it´s possible to fix it considering being annoying it´s like your whole personality. Point proven.” 

“Come say that closer,” He winked playfully, and you seriously would cringe at the number of times that man has winked at you if he wasn´t Wooyoung.  

Ok, coming completely clean: You were also kind of annoyed at the way you were definitely getting wet at the banter between the two of you, like teasing each other wasn´t what your whole friendship has been about for years. 

It also helped that Wooyoung´s hand was still on your thigh, veins sticking out and fingers filled with rings that you just couldn´t stop picturing against the skin on your neck.  

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

It took a second to decide if you would actually listen to that one braincell fighting for its life inside your head or not, but in the end, you decided against it, quickly standing up so you could sit on Wooyoung´s lap and take him by surprise as you straddled his thighs, one of your knees on each side of legs.  

Yeah, there was definitely something pulsing in between your legs. Fucking hell. 

You moved too quicky for Wooyoung to process what was going on, so it really was amusing the way he violently jerked once you moved your head closer, lips almost brushing his ears as you whispered, “What do you want me to say?” 

For a second you had almost forgotten it was Jung Wooyoung under you, but he was fast to remind you as one of his hands found its place on the side of your thigh and the other grabbed onto your waist, where his thumb brushed gentle circles against your exposed skin. He took advantage of the fact you were already bent down to say against your ear this time, “You never told me.” 

“What?” You asked, creating some distance between you so you could look at the smirk on his face and because you didn´t quite like the way you got weak when you felt his breath against your skin so closely. 

“The other day, we made a deal. You said you would tell me what you imagined me doing to you if I told you first, but you ran away after I completed my part. You owe me.” 

Under regular circumstances you would have stood up and left right then and there, but the way his palms met the front part of your thighs and started rubbing them up and down, a bit higher each time, got you wanting to play his game to see where it would end. 

“You´re right. That day was the first time I ever thought about you sexually, and you know what triggered it?” 

“What?” He smiled at the way goosebumps erupted all over your skin under his touches. 

“Your nose.” 

“So you like my nose?” 

“And your lips, but mostly your nose.” 

"And what about my lips and nose?" 

"Was just thinking about how good they'd feel under me," You look into his eyes, centimeters away from yours, thankful that Hongjoong had deemed the lights at some point of the night and now Wooyoung's face was illuminated only by a pink hue, coming from a fake sunset light your friend had bought on AliExpress. 

"That's good, ‘cause I've never wanted someone to sit on my face so bad before." 

“Careful,” You warned, inching your face closer to his, toying with the buttons on his shirt as your lips were almost brushing. “We still need to go back to being friends after we fuck and get this off our systems.” 

"I’m sure we can manage," He smiled, inching closer himself so now your lips were indeed touching as he continued speaking. "I'm a good friend after all." 

"Kiss me then, I dare you," You breathed out, shooting your last shot. 

He laughed at that, "You know I never back down from a challenge." 

But well, it worked. 

Wooyoung made his words true, grabbing onto your waist with a firmness that you didn't know he had to pull you closer. With your chests now glued, his lips finally pressed against yours and you hated yourself for not being disappointed. You so wanted the man to be all bark and no bite, but the moment his tongue met yours you understood why that girl wouldn't leave him alone. You had indeed kissed many people before, but it had never felt like this - and also, you were right, his plush lips were definitely something to obsess over. 

What didn't surprise you at all, was that like in everything else, Wooyoung was a tease. In some moments when you would deepen the kiss, he would pull back a bit and bite on your bottom lip just to laugh when you groaned in annoyance. When he felt you were getting frustrated at his little games, he would grab onto your hips and grind them against his – which well, definitely got your mind to stop thinking about how insufferable he was. Good thing you knew how to play too, hands finding the roots of his hair to pull harshly on it, almost passing out at the whine he let out.  

"I love that you're wearing a skirt," He groaned out. 

"Why is that?" You were so breathless you almost got embarrassed. 

"I can feel how wet you are." 

Fuck. 

"You must be imagining things." 

"Oh, am I?" The cunning smile he gave you along with those words should have prepared you. 

It really shouldn't have surprised you when one of his hands left your ass and snaked its way in between your bodies. You leaned back a little to try and understand what was happening, giving Wooyoung all the access he needed to get his hand under your skirt and press the pad of his middle finger right on your clit over your panties. 

"Told ya," He smirked in content at the way you gasped involuntarily.  

"Wooyoung-" 

"What? Weren't you the one who couldn't wait?" He teased, rubbing slow circles with his finger. "If you're already soaked like this, I can't even imagine what it would be like if I just pushed your panties to the side-" 

"No-" You whined, thorn between just letting him do whatever he wanted or stopping him - since you were very much in the middle of your friend's living room and there were people around. 

"Getting shy now?"  

“Wooyoung.” 

“That´s my name,” You could see in his eyes how much fun he was having teasing you. 

“You want me to stop teasing or stop touching you?” He mocked with a smile on his face, finger still working on you as you fought with all your life to not squirm on his lap. 

“You know what? If you want everyone to see, I can put on a show,” You sighed, accepting defeat. 

You expected Wooyoung to smirk once again but was instead surprised when he stopped and retreated his hand, adjusting your skirt back in place. Your heart dropped at the sight, searching for answers in his eyes, but they were busy looking somewhere else: Mingi had gotten back. You could see the way the tall man was frozen at the entrance, eyes wide and hand once again stuck in the air – this time holding his wallet proudly. 

You sent a glare at the intruder (as if there were not at least 10 other people in the room). The moment Mingi´s eyes caught yours, he jumped as if he had just woken up from a nap and he tried mouthing something like “sorry” and “oh shit” so you just rolled your eyes and motioned with your hand for him to move along, preferably far away. He seemed to get the message, almost tripping with how fast he spun on his heels and left.  

“What? Weren´t you the one who wanted everyone to know?” You asked Wooyoung, tone pointy as you climbed off his lap. It was like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over you. THIS WAS JUNG WOOYOUNG. 

YOUR BEST FRIEND JUNG WOOYOUNG. 

THE GUY WHO MADE YOU DRESS LIKE A CHEERLEADER TO GO TO HIS COLLEGE SOCCER GAMES AND CHEER FOR HIM, THE GUY WHO BURPED AND LAUGHED AT HIS OWN DISGUSTINESS, THE GUY WHO DID A CRISTIANO RONALDO IMPRESSION EVERYTIME HE WON SOMETHING, THE GUY YOU HAD TO ONCE RESCUE FROM A PIG FARM AFTER DRINKING WAY TOO MUCH! 

“Yeah, but I guess my protective best friend side spoke louder,” He sighed too, fixing his pants. “Don´t be mad.” 

“I´m not mad.” 

“Yes, you are.” 

“Yes, I´m mad. Ok? Cause now the magic is over or whatever and I realized you´re my best friend and we can´t fuck.” 

He turned around on the couch to be able to look into your eyes, his searching. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so he simply closed his eyes, sighed once again and stood up, offering his hand, “C´mon. Let me take you home.” 

“So, Mingyu huh?” Wooyoung asked, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear.  

“Don´t do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Ask about another man and pretend everything´s normal.” 

“Well, I guessed that now that we can´t fuck we can go back to being normal best friends.” 

You locked your jaw and crossed your arms. You were angry and you didn´t even know what for – But you expected Wooyoung to fix it, nonetheless. 

“Use your words.” 

“No.” 

“Ok, then. Silent ride it is.” 

You huffed; aware you were acting like a spoiled child, but you were just angry at the mess inside your head and that your friend was not able to read your mind and untangle everything so it made sense. Maybe you really were just spoiled and angry you didn´t get what you wanted when you wanted. 

“Oh. I get it now.” 

“What?” Wooyoung asked, eyes moving from the road for a second to look at you. 

“When you call me a brat. I get it now.” 

“I was searching my brain for plausible reasons for you to be all sulky, for you to admit you were mad just because I didn´t fuck you at the party?” 

“Yeah? Not just that, but you know I don´t like when things don´t go my way, I just wanted everything to happen fast so I wouldn´t have time to think about it but then when I thought about it, I felt bad because I still wanted it to happen but I know it shouldn´t.” 

“Y/N, it´s sex.” 

“Don´t make me sound stupid.” 

“I´m not, you´re just really overthinking this.” 

“Yeah, that´s the whole point. And it´s all your fault, so you see why I´m mad now?” 

“Yes. I´m the worst.” 

“You are.” 

“Not when I fuck you, thought.” 

“The moment has passed, Wooyoung. The train has left the station. Deal with it.” 

“If you say so. Are you opening the garage, or should I park outside?” 

“I didn´t bring the tag – Wait, are you going up?” 

“Street it is then.” 

“Answer me, stupid.” 

“Yes, I´m going up.” 

“What for?” 

“You said it yourself, if we´re best friends and nothing more is ever happening, there should be no problem with me sleeping over, right? We´ve done it thousands of times.” 

“Yeah,” You squeezed your eyes at him. You knew what game he was playing, trying to prove you wrong – But you were also convinced you were more stubborn than him and that you would instead prove him wrong. 

“Slumber party, fun!” He exclaimed, taking the key out and tapping your thigh before leaving his car. 

“Since this was kind of last minute,” You heard Wooyoung´s voice approaching your room, “I didn´t really bring any clothes.” 

And there he was, next to your bed in nothing but a towel around his hips, long messy hair slightly dripping down his torso and toothbrush in his mouth, looking all casual like you both knew he wasn´t doing this on purpose.  

The fact that it was working only made you even more annoyed. 

“You know where the drawer with your stuff is,” You groaned, pretending to look at your nails. 

He looked way too smug as he turned to your closet, opening said drawer to pull out some sweatpants. You kind of expected (or is it hoped the right word?) that he would just unknot the towel and expose himself to try and seduce you, but he behaved and simply pulled the pants under the fabric before unwrapping it.  

“Have you not heard about underwear?” 

“Have you not heard that it´s healthier to sleep without it? You should hang out with me more, I can teach you a lot.” 

“Yeah, I already see you enough, thanks.” 

“Come dry my hair.” 

“I think you´re perfectly capable of doing that yourself.” 

“Yeah, but I like when you do it.” 

You rolled your eyes and groaned, pushing the blanket out of you, “Fine.” 

Wooyoung walked to the bathroom in front of you, surely having planned the way his back and arms looked from behind. You had seen him without a shirt hundreds of times already, why did you feel like you wanted to jump him now?!!?!?!?  You figured you were over it after coming back to your senses but oh boy, were you wrong. 

“Has San been dragging you to the gym?” You asked as he bent over to get the hair dryer from the bottom drawer. You figured making small talk and acting normally would keep your brain busy. 

“Yeah. And you would know that if you opened the hundreds of snaps I send you every day.” 

“I´m not 14, Wooyoung. Snapchat died in 2015, sorry to inform you,” You joked as you plugged the dryer he handed you. “Give me the towel.” 

He did as told, sitting down on your toilet as you started drying the water excess from his hair. Doing your best so no part of your arm or leg would accidentally touch his skin since you could feel the heat emanating from it. 

That was no way of living. 

Once the towel was completely damp, you tossed it on the floor and grabbed a brush, ignoring how he closed his eyes in appreciation at the touch. You fucking hated him and the way your heart was beating fast for absolutely no reason.  

Now untangled, you reached over to get the hair dryer once again but were stopped with a soft touch to the side of your leg. 

You looked down at the man expecting an answer and he simply gave you a lazy smile, gently grabbing your wrist and pulling you in between his legs, “Come here. Let me look at you while you do it.” 

Well, you let him pull you along because there was nothing really sexual about it, Wooyoung was just a touchy person and he looked like he was about to fall asleep anyways.  

You turned on the dryer and used your fingers to move his hair around so the heat would get to his roots, feeling the skin of your face heat up at the way he hummed in content. Wooyoung had a lot of hair, and not just that, but he had a lot of thick hair, so you were already aware you would spend a long time in there, appreciating the silence and the fact he was pretty much out of it so you could let your guard down. 

WHICH IS EXACTLY WHY you jumped in surprise when both of his hands found their way to the side of your thighs, just very softly rubbing them up and down as you dried his strands, goosebumps erupting all over your body at the delicate touch.  

Once again, just sleepy touchy Wooyoung. 

Nothing new, nothing to fuss over. 

Except YOU WERE FUSSING OVER IT BECAUSE ONCE AGAIN YOU FELT A PULSE WHERE YOU DIDN´T WANT TO FEEL A PULSE. 

This whole situation was just so domestic and nice that it scratched a very specific part of your brain that got you wanting to live in that moment forever – except maybe not with your best FRIEND. 

“I like when you touch me,” His raw voice came out softly. “You don´t do it a lot, so I have to enjoy every chance I get.” 

You didn´t have an answer to that, the only thing you could think to say was “stop” but how could he stop when he wasn´t even doing anything to begin with? This time it was not his fault that your mind was in the gutter. 

“You have enough people touching you already,” You managed to string a few words. 

“Yeah, but it feels nicer when it´s you,” He opened his eyes, you could see the sincerity in them and you felt bad that you kind of just wanted to punch him and run away. 

You were also surprised by the sudden unexpected eye contact, which explains why you accidentally pulled one of his strands a bit harshly. WHAT WASN´T EXPLAINED THOUGH, WAS THE LOW MOAN HE LET OUT AND THE WAY HIS EYES CLOSED AS HIS MOUTH PARTED. OR THE WAY YOURS HUNG OPEN TOO AT THE SOUND OR THE WAY YOU COULDN´T STOP STARING AT THE STUPID MOLE ON HIS LIP. 

It was a moment of insanity, a few seconds when your soul was out of your body; when you tentatively pulled on his hair again, feeling his nails digging into the skin of your thighs and his breathing getting heavier, yours matching. 

“If you really don´t want us to fuck then you´re just being cruel right now,” He breathed out, eyes still closed as his forehead met your abdomen.  

“I don´t?” 

“Is that a question?” 

“No. I don´t. I think your hair is dry.” 

“It´s definitely not,” He argued, raising his head once again. “C´mon, finish it. No funny business, I promise.” 

You wanted to tell him it´s not him you were worried about, it’s the way your own body was betraying you that bothered you, but you took a deep breath and continued with the work, doing your best to ignore his eyes on you or how his hands were once again toying with your thighs or how his thighs were touching your legs or how he was centimeters away from you. 

Yeah, a lot of things to ignore. 

Was your bathroom always this small? 

“You smell nice.” 

“I shower once in a while,” You agreed. “And you said no funny business.” 

“I´m complimenting you, how is that sexual?” 

“It´s not,” You agreed. 

He smirked at you because he too was well aware of the tension, if the way his sweatpants were suddenly tight were anything to go by. Thankfully he didn´t answer because you don´t think you could continue to ignore it if he mentioned he was getting hard just by you drying his hair. 

Eventually, after what felt like days, you finally turned off the dryer and prayed he would agree to your suggestion, “You´re done. Wanna sleep?” 

“Nop, this is a slumber party.” 

“What? You want to have a pillow fight now or do facemasks and gossip?” You rolled your eyes. 

“Although the first option sounds fun, I was thinking we can watch something until we fall asleep.” 

Watch something. 

Until you fell asleep. 

In your bed. 

Sure, what could go wrong? 

“What are you doing?” Wooyoung asked amusedly. 

“Building a barrier between our sides of the bed.” 

He laughed loudly at that, crawling into the bed too and taking the pillows from where you were organizing them, “Wooyoung!” 

“Shut up, you enjoyed cuddling once and you will enjoy it again.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“What? Afraid you won´t be able to resist me? I thought we were just friends,” He teased. 

“Very funny-“ 

“Because if you´re interested we can just skip the foreplay and go straight to –“ 

“What do you want to watch?” 

You ignored his low chuckle, giving up on fighting for the pillows and getting comfortable on your bed so you could turn on the TV. 

“Community?” 

“Great,” You agreed between gritted teeth, opening the Netflix app and putting on the show from where you two had stopped it as Wooyoung fluffed the pillows behind his back next to you.  

This time he didn´t even ask before pulling you in between his legs, your back against his chest. You didn´t even fight it because honestly, what for? You simply groaned as you felt him searching for the light switch on the wall over your bed.  

“Don´t pretend you don´t enjoy it, I´ve got you all figured out now.” 

“Yeah yeah, believe what you want to.” 

“Shut up, I´m trying to watch the show.” 

You huffed, rolled your eyes and crossed your arms all at the same time. You knew it wasn´t at him you were annoyed – although he was sure making a great job at feeding into it.  

You also immediately regretted wearing shorts as the palms of his hands splayed over your thighs.  

“It´s too hot,” You complained, hoping he would let you go. 

Wooyoung simply stretched out one of his hands and grabbed the AC remote, turning it on before tossing it away and returning his palm to your thigh. His silence told you he was focused on the show and you truly wish you could say the same about yourself, but instead, your eyes were glued to the sight in front of you like it was a car wreck, not being able to look away no matter how much your brain ordered you to. Your knees were bent, your thighs almost touching your chest, so his hands were just right there in your line of sight, all veiny and calloused.  

The harder you tried to stir your mind away and pay attention to the TV, the more your brain looked like a Wattpad fanfic written by a 40-year-old who just got divorced and discovered sex wasn't just missionary. The conversation you had with Wooyoung about how the girls he fucked became literally obsessed with him kept flashing into your head and you were legitimately about to bite onto your fist and scream for 7 whole minutes.   

Your mental breakdown however was interrupted by the man behind you, who with no words started tracing his fingers – seemingly – unpresumptuously over your skin. You ignored it because you had no energy to fight it and as long as it stayed PG-rated it would be fine.  

The soft touches plus the very cold wind from the AC hitting you got goosebumps to erupt up your skin and you just felt how your nipples were suddenly sensitive against the fabric of your shirt and Wooyoung´s hand were just there, mere centimeters away and oh, you so desperately wanted him to touch them. In fact, you wanted it so badly you were fighting for your life to keep the uncomfortable squirming to a minimum.  

Thankfully, Wooyoung didn´t notice it – deep down you knew he was just pretending not to for your sake, but if he could, so would you.  

“Who do you think is hotter, Annie or Britta?” His voice suddenly, almost against your ear, shocked you. “Oh, jumpy, are we?” 

“Shut up, I was just startled.” 

“So?” 

“Britta.” 

“Same.” 

He went quiet once again, except now, when you thought his mind was once again focused on the show, his hands started getting braver. They escalated from just his fingers drawing shapes on the patch above your knees to suddenly coming down to the sensitive skin between your thighs. You jerked involuntarily even though he only traced his fingers about halfway down your legs. Wooyoung once again pretended to not notice your reaction and you pretended to not notice he was touching you.  

His fingers gently brushing the sides of your thighs all the way to your knees before you could feel the tip of his middle finger slowly grazing your skin down the inside of your thighs, lower and lower each time he came down. At this point your heart was beating so fast it was almost coming out of your throat, your breathing labored and sweat building up on your forehead even though the room was freezing cold.  

“She´s kind of annoying, though.” 

“Who?” You breathed out, honestly not even knowing your name anymore. 

“Britta.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

Silence once again.  

Attention back to the show. 

You had to control your whine of disappointment when he retreated his hands.  

Ok, you took the chance to breathe, count to 10 and give yourself a pep talk. You could do this. You would not fuck your best friend. If not because of your morals and because of your friendship, because fucking him would mean he won, and you would never give Wooyoung the satisfaction. 

Ok, you could do this. 

You could definitely do this. 

Wooyoung gently gathered your hair and pushed it over your right shoulder, the familiar goosebumps showing up once again at the way the tip of his fingers brushed against the skin of your neck.  

Yeah, you could not do this.  

The sound that came out of your mouth when his wet lips met the juncture between your neck and shoulder could only be described as a pinscher finding out it could bark. You were in fact shaking as much as those annoying tiny dogs are known for. 

You froze, not being able to react when you felt him sucking on your skin or when his tongue tried to soothe the pain his teeth left behind. Your core was clenching so hard it hurt. 

“Wooyoung,” Your voice came out as half plead half warning.  

“Hm?” He hummed against a different spot on your neck, and it made it a thousand times worse.  

 “We shouldn´t-” 

“Just tell me to stop and I will.” 

Except you couldn´t. Not when he found your sweet spot and grazed his teeth against it before gently sucking on it. This time you allowed yourself to squirm and you felt it at the same time you heard it; Wooyoung groaned as you accidentally pressed against him and figured out you were not the only one going insane. His dick was hard and now very much pulsing against your ass and lower back.  

Both of you realized you never told him to stop and you were fighting so hard to gain control of your body back as he kissed the vein on your neck - but it was all lost when his hands snaked around your torso and grabbed your boobs. You whimpered, shamefully, squeezing your legs together to try and relieve some of the throbbing.  

His kisses grew harsher, as he sucked one spot hard enough to leave a mark, the pad of his middle fingers toyed with your nipples and you simply couldn't pretend you didn´t want this to happen anymore, not with the way you could literally start dripping onto your bed any moment now.  

A gasp left your lips when his right hand grabbed onto your thigh and pulled your legs open. You felt his dick twitching when he saw the wet patch in the middle of your shorts. 

“Oh, princess,” He sighed, pressing against the stain in pure admiration. 

“Wooyoung-” 

“Tell me to stop.” 

He gave you no time to consider his words, pulling the bottom of your shorts and panties to the side and rubbing his middle finger down your slit to wet it. You carved your nails onto his thighs in return, doing your best to stay grounded. It didn´t even take a minute for you to understand why the prior girls who slept with Wooyoung became obsessed with him, you weren´t really doing anything yet and the second the pad of his finger found your clit while his other hand gently pressed down onto your lower stomach everything became even clearer. You threw your head back on his shoulder in pleasure as he rubbed figure eights against your clit. 

Yeah, you agreed to pretend nothing happened starting tomorrow, but you figured you would never be able to forget the sound of your best friend´s deep moan against your ear when he felt you around his finger for the first time. 

“Glad to see I´m not the only one going crazy,” He groaned against your ear - and when did his voice get so raspy? 

You whined once again, not really knowing what else to do when you were practically on the edge from a minute or two of stimulation. 

“Tell me to stop.” 

“Wooyoung-” 

“I love when you say my name.” 

Were you about to cry? 

At this point, you just wanted him to ignore you and throw you around and do whatever he wanted, but you knew he wouldn´t until you said so, and you were definitely not doing that. Although with every second that passed with his finger on you, that definitely was turning more into a probably.  

“I never told you.” 

“Wha- What?” 

“From all the ways I imagined this happening, I never told you my favorite.” 

“What is it?” 

“It´s the one where we´re in a sleepover and you´re so desperate that you can´t even go to the bathroom, so you just very quietly put your hands inside your shorts and touch yourself right next to me thinking that I´m asleep. And I pretend I am, but I can hear the small whimpers you try to hold back, I can feel the slight shake of the bed and I can hear how wet you are so clearly. Sometimes, I even imagine you would decide to use me, not even try to wake me up, just sit on my face and ride it until I pretend to wake up and finally eat you out until you´re crying and shaking.” 

When you literally had to hold yourself back from finishing at his words, you grabbed his hand and turned around on your knees, smashing your lips with no fanciness against his. He was quick to grab your ass and direct you to sit on top of his legs, your thighs on either side of his in the familiar position as your tongues met and you pulled the hairs on the back of his neck with all the frustration you had inside you. 

“We´re not fucking,” You informed in between labored breaths. 

“We don´t have to fuck, I just need you to sit on my face.” 

You never whined so loudly in your life before. 

That was the one single thing you have been dreaming about hearing for weeks now and you were so happy you could practically cry, in fact, you almost came right there without even being touched. 

I´ll be posting part 2 this week because this was already too long and crashing my terrible terrible computer <3

I´ll be proof reading this some other day sorry for any mistakes I´m just a dyslexic girl with adhd and no english lessons ever

[eddiesxangel]

The Nanny | E.M x f!reader

Anon requested :I have an idea for a smut for Eddie. Okay, so the reader is like a babysitter for Eddie, so the reader takes a video of playing with Eddie’s kid and sends it to him. When Eddie watches the video, however, Eventually, his eyes are only on the reader; he becomes attracted to the reader and gets stiff. But the reader did this on purpose for that reason, and so when Eddie gets home, his kid is asleep, and it’s just him and the reader, and they start to get intimate, and one thing leads to another …

Wc: 2.9k

Cw: smut, oral (f&m receving), p in v, unprotected sex, pull and pray

When you got the job about a year ago, you were out of school and desperate for a full-time job to pay the bills. You saw his ad for a live-in Nanny in the paper and jumped at the opportunity.

When you started this nannying business, you never thought you would fall for the handsome dad who hired you.

The family you learned was a father and daughter. Eddie was a widower. His wife had died five years previously, and he had a seven-year-old little girl.

Eddie was a dedicated manager and owner of a construction company in town. His hours were unpredictable, so he asked for your help getting his daughter, Charlotte, ready for school in the early mornings and picking her up. To accommodate your assistance, Eddie has constructed a small house in his backyard for you to stay in, providing you with your own space.

During the year you spent with Charlotte, you formed a deep bond with her, and she became your favourite person. You both shared numerous activities, such as shopping, getting your nails done, having sleepovers, and attending her dance classes.

You supported her at every recital and never missed her soccer games, even when Eddie couldn't attend. Your time with Charlotte became an irreplaceable part of your life.

Your relationship with Eddie grew as the year went on. You became more attracted to him. He was so charming, funny, and handsome. He made you feel welcomed like you were part of the family—the family you wished was real.

Eddie has been away for the last few days; he will be home this evening, but you still wanted to send him some updates about Charlotte. You sent him a video of you guys at the community pool. She loved swimming, and you couldn’t help but want to flirt. Did you wear this specific bathing suit so he would see it? Yes. You can’t help but want to get his attention, to have him look at you the way you look at him.

You were on the splash pad, and thought it would be cute to show a video of you and Charlotte running through the sprinkler. You set up your phone against the wall for balance and click record. You and her squealed as the water was cold on your bare skin. You were smiling and laughing together the whole time. You hoped Eddie found it cute…

Eddie was in the airport lounge when he received a notification on his phone. He smiled when he saw that your contact had disrupted his podcast.

He paused his show and swiped to see what you had sent him. The video began with a scene of Charlotte, soaked and jumping up and down, with her two missing front teeth visible. Eddie smirked at the sight. He loved his baby; he missed her so much. The video continues, and when you come into the shot, his eyes widen as he watches you run toward Charlotte. His eyes can't help but stare. Your ass bounced as you ran back towards his daughter; your tight bathing suit clung to your every curve. The sight of your body so exposed, your wet skin glistening in the sun, Eddie couldn’t help but feel his excitement start to grow.

You giggled and laughed as you picked her up and ran with her through the water. Your smile was so genuine, and Eddie hated that he had developed an attraction to you other than liking your personality.

When the video finished, you sent another text, but this time, it was not what Eddie had expected. When he clicked back to the chat, he almost dropped his phone because he was so shocked. Right under the wholesome video of you and Charlotte was a picture of you lying on your bed, hand draped across your naked chest.

He was looking around. To make sure nobody else saw what he was looking at, he opened the photo, and he could see more of your bare skin than he ever thought possible.

Flustered and confused, Eddie didn’t know what to make of this. Did you mean to send it by accident? Was this meant for someone else? The thought of it supposed to be for someone else sent a pang of jealousy through Eddie’s chest.

The overhead speaker saying the fight Eddie was supposed to be boarding was what snapped him out of his thoughts. The whole flight would feel extra long now that this would be all Eddie would think about. He couldn’t get home fast enough.

Eddie never replied to your video and didn’t respond to the picture you decided to take for him. You’re unsure what came over you, but you wanted a clear message. You didn’t think the video would do anything, so you got bold.

You started to regret your decision about the picture. Maybe you will lose your job. Perhaps you could play it off as an accident, pretending you didn’t know you had sent it to him.

It didn’t matter because it had been hours, and Eddie would be home any minute.

Trying to ignore the feeling of panic by distracting yourself by cooking dinner, you hear the front door click open.

“Honey, I’m home,” Eddie’s deep voice rings through the front hallway. Your stomach turns upside down at the sound of his voice.

“In here,” you try to keep your voice calm. Maybe he hasn’t seen it yet.

“Daddy!” Charlotte leaps off the kitchen chair and charges her way to her father. He’s been gone three days, the longest he has ever been away.

“Hi, handsome.” You smile as Eddie makes an appearance with Charlotte in his arms.

“H-hi,” he stutters, and his cheeks are a rose pink. He totally saw the photos.

“Dinner is almost ready,” you say, turning back to the stove, trying to hide your awkwardness about what you’ve done.

Eddie cleared his throat and took a seat as though nothing had happened. However, his mind was racing. He wanted to discuss it with you but didn’t know how to approach the situation.

Dinner was okay. You both tried to ignore the elephant in the room for Charlotte’s sake. You asked him questions about the trip, and he asked what you guys got up to. You let Charlotte do most of the talking. She eventually got bored and asked to watch a movie with both of you.

The tension could be cut with a knife as you and Eddie stole glances at one another while Charlotte was obviously enthralled by the princess singing about love in the big flatscreen.

After another hour and a half of torture, Charlotte passed out on her father’s shoulder. He smirks and says he’s putting her to bed and you stand to clean up the mess that was left in the kitchen after dinner.

A few minutes after watching the dishes, Eddie returns to the kitchen.

“You don’t have to clean; you’ve been on the clock for three days straight; I can take over. You sit and have a drink, relax.” He approaches you from behind.

“I don’t mind; youve been travelling all day; it’s my job to take care of you.” You look over your shoulder to see Eddie much closer than you thought.

“No, it’s your job to take care of Charlotte.” He raises a brow.

“What if I like taking care of you?” you drop the clean fork into the right side of the sink with all the other clean dishes.

“Sweetheart, about that…”

“Yes?” You turn excitedly.

“I um-you- I saw something.” Eddie didn’t know how to approach this. He sees you looking at him with hopeful eyes as you bite your lip. His heart fluttered in his chest when he saw the look on your face.

“I wanted you to see it.” You boldly admit.

“You- uh? What sweetheart?.” He asked, dumbfounded.

“Did you like it?” You take a small step forward, testing the waters.

Eddie visibly tenses. He knows this is wrong, he knows he shouldn’t be attracted to his kids’ nanny, but he’s also only a man—a man who has been crushing on you like he was back in high school.

“This is wrong”

“Why? It didn’t have to be?” You trail a flirtatious finger down his chest.

Eddie inhales sharply, and he can’t help his attraction to you take over.

“Because you’re you, and I’m your boss-“

“Charlotte is my boss,” you giggle and bat your eyes.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs.

“Eddie, I don’t want to keep pretending that there isn’t something between us. I can’t pretend any longer.”

“Sweetheart…”

“Please tell me it’s not just all in my head. All those late nights after we put Charlotte to bed, how we seek one another out even if Charlotte is not around, I see the way you look at me.”

Your face and Eddie’s were mere inches apart. Your lips were so close that Eddie was leaning in against his better judgment, but he wanted you so badly. You were right; there was an undeniable connection between the two of you, and Eddie didn’t want to ignore it either.

“Please, tell me I’m not crazy,” you whispered.

“You’re anything but sweetheart,” Eddie whispered back before closing the gap between you.

His soft lips formed with yours like they were made to be together.

You wrapped your hands around Eddie’s neck, pulling him in closer.

The sensation of his mouth on you went straight to your core. You needed him so badly.

Naturally, you slid your hands down his torso, up under his shirt, signalling for him to take it off; you needed to feel his skin; you kissed him like it was the last time you ever would kiss him.

You slid your hands down to his belt buckle, undoing it at a speed that wasn’t fast enough.

“Please, Eddie, I need you; let me make you feel good.”

“Sweetheart, you can’t just say things like that to me.” Eddie groans.

“Please, I need this; I’ve wanted this for so long, I can’t-” You both were so desperate, his pants couldn’t come off fast enough.

With a soft thwap, his jeans hit the kitchen floor, and you sink down to your knees.

“Fuck sweetheart, you look so beautiful like this.” he grips your chin before slipping his thumb in your mouth for you to suck on.

You slide your tongue along his rough, working hands, and he watches with lust burning in his eyes. You pop his thumb out of your mouth and replace it with the head of his cock. His thick shaft was heavy in your grip as you took more of him while not breaking eye contact. The weight of his cock resting in your mouth made you drool.

“Fuuuuuck, good girl.” Eddie’s breath became erratic.

Your eyes started watering as you tried taking him all the way down your throat, but Eddie was big.

Your breathing became shallow, but you were in heaven.

“You ok, sweetheart?” He’s looking down at you, a hand cupped on the back of your head, trying to resist the urge to thrust into your mouth as he hits the back of your throat.

You bob your head back slowly as you nod yes. You were finally able to catch your breath, drool coming out of your mouth as you pumped his cock in and out of your slick mouth.

Eddie couldn’t believe this was happening; not twelve hours ago, he was in a different state, jacking off to this fantasy of you on your knees.

He pulled you back up to kiss him, your pussy was throbbing, and the pulse that went directly to your clit was screaming for attention.

Moaning your name Eddie pushed you back so your ass was against the kitchen island, and you saw the hunger in his eyes.

He helps you jump onto the white marble countertop with quick hands.

“Baby, please.” An involuntary whimper came from your mouth, and he went in for another kiss, hands roaming from your inner thigh up until it reached your pussy.

“Oh baby,” he said the second he truly felt how wet you were for him.

Kissing down your neck, leaving purple bruises in his wake, not giving a care in the world right now about visible hickeys, he crept lower and lower until he was kneeling between your legs, forcing your knees open.

He stared into your heat.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He spoke, not breaking eye contact with your wet pussy.

He leaned in; he started with soft kitten licks to your clit with the tip of his tongue, gentle and delicate, before he took long deep strokes off his tongue, tasting every inch of you. Eddie moaned at your tase; he wanted to consume you, to make you feel so good you forget about every man before him.

The tickle of his beard was grounding you. This was actually happening.

“Oh!” You cry but quickly cup your hand over your mouth, remembering Char was upstairs.

With Eddie’s face pressed into your cunt your orgasm was quickly approaching. You couldn’t resist it anymore; your hips started gyrating into his face, and you needed more.

“Eddie, please,” you whimpered.

“You want more, sweetheart?” he pulls away and replaced his mouth with his index finger, slowly stroking up and down your weeping slit.

“Yes, Eddie, please.”

“That’s my good girl, asking so nicely,” he said, grinning up at you before standing.

With his hard cock in hand, he rubbed his tip up and down your slit gathering your juices so he could split into you nice and easy.

At this point, you were so turned on you couldn’t think, moaning out as he slowly stretched you open, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Inch by inch, the pleasure mixed with the burn of the stretch was so good, too good.

“That’s it, sweetheart, fuckin’ taking me so well.” He slipped inside of you until you felt the tickle of his pubes against your clit.

You hadn’t even realized he was talking to you, cock drunk off the feeling you were so close, and he hardly started.

Incoherent muffled moans filled the empty kitchen as Eddie's cock quickly started to pump in and out of you, hitting your sweet spot on each thrust.

You didn’t stand a chance, as he had your legs over your shoulders, ankles rolling. He gripped the backs of your calves to hold your legs as wide as they could go.

With each thrust, the pleasure became more and more, your back arching up into the feeling of him filling you up.

The feeling in your belly started to build until he unexpectedly pulled you off the counter, walked you over to the couch, and flipped you so you were on all fours.

Once you were spread open for him, he started thrusting harder.

“Oh god! There! Please don’t stop!” You screamed into the couch cushions.

It was so good your hands gave out, your cheek pressing into the brown leather, only making your ass stick out more for him.

He spreads your cheeks to watch how your greedy pussy swollen his cock each time.

A slap comes down hard on your ass as he pounds into you; you moan out with pleasure. Another smack on the other cheek to even things out.

He’s going at a pace that makes your head spin; his fingers gripped into your hips so rough you’re sure there will be bruising tomorrow.

The noises that are coming out of you are inhuman; you don’t even recognize yourself; he was so big, you were so full, it was too good. 

“shhhhhh, sweetheart, we need to be quiet.” He wraps a hand around your face to cup your mouth to muffle the moans, but that only makes it hotter, so you cry about again. You couldn’t talk; each thrust was getting deeper and deeper at the angle he was holding you in.

Each thrust was building up the coil in your stomach. You were so close when he started rubbing your clit, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m close,” you seethe through gritted teeth.

“Come, sweetheart, come on my cock.” You were already seeing stars before he finished talking; your body shook, clenching down so tight on his cock while your orgasm filled your body.

“Oh god, yes, baby, milk this cock so good” Your pussy gripped down so hard on his cock that he almost wasn’t able to pull out in time.

You feel his warm seed on your back as his orgasm shoots through him.

Dazed and all fucked out, you roll over to see Eddie beaming down at you after he cleaned you up a little bit.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Eyes glazed over, you manage a

“Hi,” you giggle.

You curled into his neck, leaving soft kisses and kitten licks; you couldn’t help yourself; your boyfriend was just so hot. 

“I think we have a lot of catching up to do,” he throws you over his shoulder. “Eddie, put me down,” you giggle, getting a full view of his bare ass in front of your face. He runs you to his bedroom; you know it is going to be a long night. 

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

[sunraies]

Rafe x Sleepy! Reader where he freaks out that she’s not answering her Phone and thinks The worst scenario that she’s sick of him, cheating etc. But It gets better when she calls him while he’s with The boys and she’s in her pj’s telling him she just woke up and asking what happened that made him call so many times 🥹

Sleepy baby

As requested above

Warnings - insecurities, toxic thoughts, drug use, drinking, and mentions of sex. Ending fluff.

*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*

16 hours ago, you posted to your insta story. 16 hours since you'd been laughing, smiling, singing, and dancing into the camera. Music pumping and disco lights blazing as you partied into the night.

You looked so happy, surrounded by your college friends. Some he knew, and some he didn't. He wished he could have been there with you. Long distance was slowly killing him, he was sure of it.

Although he'd been uneasy about you going so far away, things had been working out. He visited as often as he could, and you came home for the holidays. But it was moments like this when he started to doubt it all. His mind would spiral.

At first, he thought there was a reasonable explanation for you not texting him when you made it home and for not responding to his messages. You were probably to tired and drunk, simply forgotten.

But as the hours ticked by and multiple messages and phone calls later, his mind began to wander to darker places. You didn't need him anymore. You had finally realised it. You had found someone else. Someone else had found you.

You were a college student, you didn't need some hometown boyfriend dragging you down, you had finally decided to live your best life. Without him. Party, sex and drugs.

Well, two could play at that game. The moment Topper had told him about a party happening, he immediately said he would go. Fuck it, he was still the Kook King, he knew how to party, how to have any person he wanted.

The problem was that you were the only person he wanted. After a few drinks, he found himself where he normally ended up at parties. Sat with his boys, Topper, Kelce, and Barry, nursing a beer, smoking a blunt, doing a few lines, and glazing into the fire pit as the sky of endless stars shone above them.

"Bro, that's like the billionth time you checked your phone." Topper pointed out as Rafe pulled his phone out of his shorts pocket again.

"What's up, Little Miss Havard ghosting you?" Barry teased as he through arm an over Rafe's shoulders.

"Fuck off" Rafe tried to shake his arm off before sighing as looked at his phone again.

All that stared back at him was you as his lock screen and a couple of notifications, but none from you.

"Oh, shit. You really think she is?" Barry's smirk dropped, suddenly noticing his friend genuinely down about something.

"She's probably just busy," Kelce tried to reassure him. "You know with essays and shit. I mean, I have a shit ton, and that's just online"

Out of everyone in their little friend circle, you were the only one who moved the furthest away. Topper was on a gap year, Kelce was doing online courses, Barry was dealing, and Rafe had to follow in Ward's footsteps. A few of your friends did gap years.

Rafe nodded slowly. "What if, what if she's do -" He didn't finish his sentence as his phone screen suddenly lit up. 'FACETIME - Baby 😍 💍'

He nearly dropped his phone in the panic of answering it. For a spilt second, he thought about letting it ring out of spite. You'd not answered any of his. But he couldn't do it, for all the spiralling his mind had been doing. He needed to talk to you.

"Rafe, hey, you ok?" You looked so sleepy as you rubbed your eye. "I'm so sorry, I've been asleep all day"

If he could have jumped into the screen and kissed you in that moment, he would have. You looked so adorable, hair in a mess, no makeup, clearly sat in your dorm room bed as he recognised the bed sheets and the tapestry on the wall behind you.

What made his heart warm the most was that you were in one of his t-shirts. One of many you had borrowed/stolen.

He knew he was smiling at his screen like a complete goof. But he didn't care.

"Where are you?" You asked, trying to work out the noises around him and odd lighting of the fire pit. "Why did you call so much? Everything ok?" You asked, concerned.

"Everything's good, baby," He smiled. "Just at a party with the boys." He turned the phone around to show them

"God, Rafe, no don-" Too late, there you was in all you sleepiness. Proudly held up on his phone screen.

"Mrs Country Club!" Barry greeted as the others said "yo" and "hey"

You awkwardly waved and smiled as your cheeks burned before Rafe turned the phone back him.

"Well, I better not keep you from the party. As long as everything is ok?" You could tell something wasn't quite right, but didn't push it. He'd tell you in his own time. He always did.

"Everything is fine, my sleepy baby." He smiled, not giving a shit if the others heard.

"Alright, see you this weekend? Facetime tomorrow?" You smiled as he nodded before saying I love yous.

"Aww, my sleepy baby. Sleepy bab-" Barry teased before Rafe pushed him. Causing his chair to topple backwards onto the grass. Making everyone who witnessed laugh.

He glanced at his phone one last time, seeing you smiling face on his lock screen and new message 'Baby 😍💍 - I really do love you ❤️😘'

[elssero]

streamer !

.d.kaminari

♰ nsfw, pro hero denki x f!reader, male masturbation

pro hero chargebolt logging onto twitch on his day off too see his favourite pretty streamer play her favourite games or talk about whatever’s currently trending.

it’s his favourite past time, he spends all week looking forward to his day off so he can catch up on all your streams he missed this week.

he gets especially giddy if you actually stream that day so he can watch it live.

at first his infatuation with you is innocent, your a rising streamer just like he’s a rising hero!! your situations are so similar in that sense, your both adjusting to your new found fame and your both rising the charts of your respected careers very fast.

he admires you! you seem to interact with fans and the media so easily so that he just can’t help but be drawn to you ! it’s not his fault ! but it helps that your exactly his type.

he feels incredibly lucky to be able to catch one of your streams live, your currently around thirty minutes into a just chatting stream, your doing a q&a more so aimed at new fans who don’t know all that much about you yet.

but he knows, he knows you answered questions extremely similar to the ones your answering now in your q&a two months ago but still he can’t help the wide grin that appears on his face everytime you giggle, or at the little smirk you give the camera when you answer a question that could be deemed a little risky.

he watches the whole stream with anticipation, despite being able to correctly guess all the answers your giving, he is genuinely interested in what you have to say, he swears!! it’s not his fault the bludge in his pants keeps growing everytime you re-adjust the way your sitting or when you move your arms to type something on your keyboard and the action pushes your tits together slightly. he’s really is trying his hardest to ignore the growing feeling in his sweats but it’s getting sore !

not wanting to lose control completely he begins to palm himself over the material of his sweats, just slight rubbing down on himself to help the ache he feels from watching you do something as normal as answering a few questions from your fans.

your forty-five minutes into the stream now and a donation pops up with a question that you’ve never answered before, denki immediately straightens up, beyond eager to hear the answer to the question.

“hey pretty! first of all i love your streams but i need you to settle a debate for me! of all the new young heros that have had their debut this year which is your favourite?

you immediately giggle and thank the donator for their donation and their compliment, the question seems to still you for a second, you look deep in thought and denki is on the edge of his seat awaiting your answer.

you suddenly break out into a huge grin and begin to answer the question “firstly i think their all very inspiring! being able to use your quirk to help people in the way they do is very admirable i can’t help but always feel safe when i hear news of yet another save from our hero’s”

denkis breath hitches, he feels like he can’t breathe, you think he’s inspiring. you admire him.

“however, if i had to pick a favourite i guess it would probably be chargebolt” you take a second to think before you continue “i’ve seen a few of his interviews and i would say he’s clearly very charismatic, he seems like he would be easy to get along with!”

he watches in a trance as you giggle at the end of your sentence before taking a breathe and biting down a small smirk you say-

“he’s also very cute so that helps too!”

denki swears he could’ve came in his pants right there and then. you just admitted to all of your viewers that he’s your favorite up and coming hero. you just admitted to all your viewers that you think he’s cute.

he’s scrambling to reverse your stream to hear you say it again, to make sure he isn’t dreaming, when he hears it come out of your mouth for the 3rd- no 4th time he’s sure he isn’t hearing things.

he feels like he’s going feral, you his favourite twitch streamer, someone he’s been watching from afar getting his rocks off too for months just said that he’s your favourite. just like how your his favourite too!

his dick twitches in his sweats and he doesn’t even hesitate to take it out like he normally does, any guilt he’s ever felt for touching himself to the idea of you is completely out the window, he wonders what you’d think if you saw him now, your favourite pro-hero scrambling to get his dick out while he watches your stream… would you enjoy it? you did say you thought he was cute… maybe you would enjoy it.

the thought has him almost drooling. his dick is twitching in his hand as he moves his hand up and down his cock at a pace he’s never done before. he’s so pent up that he feels like a teenager again, quickly jacking himself off in search of a realise he knows is already approaching.

he’s moaning at this point, completely drowning out what your now saying.. something about your outfit? he doesn’t know but what he does know is that you looking absolutely breathtaking while saying it.

he wants to last he really does but he can’t help it, not when your looking into the camera like that, almost like your looking directly into his eyes, encouraging him.

he thinks about it for a second, he thinks about you whispering in his ear, telling him to cum for you.. urging him to finish himself off to the sound of your voice.

he bottoms out with a whine of your name, shooting thick ropes so far they hit his laptop screen, he’s panting, regaining his breathe as your voice starts to become more clear from the foggy state he was just in. he doesn’t feel guilty, not like he usually does, instead he feels a sense of pride.. or maybe contempt?

he clips the part of your stream when you talk about him, adding it to a file he has saved “my favorite streamer<3” he cleans the cum from his laptop as he fully calms down, head still a little spacey from the moment he just had. his phone is blowing up with notifications, hundreds of tweets tagging him in the clip that someone had already reposted, in just a few minutes it’s clear that people think positively of what you’ve said about him with many people agreeing and he feels that all familiar sense of pride.

you notice it too, you gasp at the sudden rise in viewers, thanking everyone for their support and ending the stream abruptly. normally he would feel a little disappointed but nothing can move him from his high right now. he waits a couple minutes in a state of awe, he can’t believe it. truly.

just as he begins to stand up, deciding to order a little victory take out for himself he gets a dm on twitter from an account he follows.

yn: hi chargebolt! i’m not sure if you’ve seen the clip circling around but i wanted to send you a quick message to apologise for any trouble it’s causing you or your team! if you need me to put out a statement i’m happy to do so, all the best!”

okay now he can’t believe it. you just dmed him, mere minutes after he’d came like a sexually frustrated virgin to your stream, he’s convinced he must be dreaming, but the once again growing tent in his pants proves that he’s not.

chargebolt: “don’t worry about it sweetheart, there’s much worse things that i could be dealing with today, i don’t think i’ll need you to put out a statement but i’d happily treat you to dinner instead?”

[rebelspykatie]

Steve’s never had anyone show any genuine interest in the things he likes. Robin rolls her eyes when he brings up sports or silly movies that don’t have a bigger plot or character work. Even though she played soccer, she doesn’t care about it in the same way that Steve cares about basketball or football. 

The kids make fun of everything from his taste in music to his choice in snacks for movie nights. Mike calls him a little housewife for baking one time and he never shows up with cookies again. They’re never intentionally mean spirited, or at least he doesn’t think so. He knows he can give as good as he gets when it comes to catty, sarcastic comments, but he tries to steer clear of personal attacks on someone’s identity these days. He learned that lesson with Jonathan. 

But even before the party came along, it was like that. His parents never stuck around long enough to find out what he was up to, never attending a game or meet, and certainly in the dark about what he might be up to outside of school. Tommy only ever cared about himself and Carol, only following Steve around for clout, popularity by association. If he asked him right now, he’d bet a lot of money that Tommy doesn’t even remember his favorite food or the movie he used to watch when he was sick. There was a point where he thought he could share things with him. Until he realized mid ramble about sports cars that Tommy wasn’t even listening to him. He was staring at Carol and nodding along with a vacant expression. 

So he stopped sharing. Stopped caring if people knew anything about him because they never asked. People always made assumptions about him anyway. The girls he slept with only wanted one thing. The kids were happy to let him chauffeur them around with no questions asked. Robin was the only one he let in, the only one that cared about digging deeper. But, and she never said in so many words, he could tell that she thought his interests were mundane, and clearly not something that sparked any enthusiasm from her. She couldn’t even keep up with the girls he slept with, giving him the same bored stare as Tommy. 

Even now, after a few years, Steve’s reminded that they never would have become friends if not for trauma and the secret inner workings of the Russian’s within Hawkins. He’s lucky to have her, but he doesn’t think she ever would’ve chosen this, chosen him. And that’s fine. He’s used to not being chosen. His parents didn’t choose him when they started leaving him alone at age 12. Tommy and Carol chose each other and the reign of a new king when Steve fell from his throne. Nancy chose Jonathan. 

He doesn’t think he has a lot to offer. 

Well, at least until Eddie comes along. He’s taken by surprise when Eddie asks after the song that’s playing in his car. He’d assumed Eddie only liked metal music, and yeah he pokes fun at the genre of music Steve seems to stick to, begging him to give metal a shot, but he doesn’t say a word about how lame it is. When they’re having a movie night, Eddie notices that Steve gravitates towards coke and brings him one without Steve asking.

After Eddie sees his bedroom, Steve gets a pack of hot wheels for Christmas. Eddie jokes that he should give one to each of the kids as their new ride, since they seem to be ungrateful little twerps. Steve places them right under his posters on his dresser and Eddie grins at them every time he comes over. They lay in bed and pretend to drive them on the ceiling like they’re kids again. It shakes something loose in Steve’s chest. 

Eddie hates sports, but he invites Steve over on Mondays, when Wayne is perched in his chair for football. He quietly works on his campaigns while Steve and Wayne watch the games. Eddie somehow worms his way into Steve’s heart, digging deeper and deeper with each new thing, like he wants to know more. Steve’s history is a minefield, but Eddie expertly navigates through it, leaving who they were behind, building something new together. Steve’s already halfway in love with him before he even realizes that Eddie is something that he likes. 

He expects to freak out a bit more, but who is going to stop him? Who is going to care if he wants to be with this boy? He’s spent so long ignoring parts of himself for others that he wants to cherish this fragile thing, to cradle it in his hands, make sure no one can ruin it for him. When he kisses Eddie, it feels like coming home, like he’s finally found that place he’s been searching for his whole life. It’s a kind of devotion that Steve’s not used to, born of love and not obsession or jealousy or anger. 

He’s not sure he deserves it, but he’ll do everything in his power to keep it.

[lee-laurent]

True Love's Kiss - Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn's in love... with his brother's ex-girlfriend

content: fluff, angst, kissing, making out, mentions of sex but no explicit smut, ex relationships, arguments

wc: 13.9k

notes: i'm so so so excited for this one!!!!! i was between this plot idea and quinn dating trevor's ex or trevor dating quinn's ex. so if you guys wanna see either of us just let me know.

It was a crisp, early fall day in Ann Arbor. The atmosphere at the Michigan football stadium was electric, thousands of people wearing maize and blue, feeling the "Big House" for the season opener. Quinn was standing next to Luke and some of his teammates, taking in the scene. Quinn felt a weird sense of nostalgia being there, reminding him of his own time at Umich, and he had no doubt that Luke was feeling the same way.

Quinn wasn't one for big crowds, unless he was playing hockey in front of it, but Luke had insisted he come to his alma mater with him. The energy around them was intense--people cheering and music blasting, but Quinn wasn't fully focused on the game. His mind wandered, as it often did, to the upcoming hockey season and his responsibilties as captain. After a few minutes of talking with Luke and his friends, Quinn felt the need to escape from the crowd for a bit.

"I'm gonna find a bathroom," he muttered to Luke, who was too busy joking with his old teammates to notice.

He slipped away, weaving through packs of students and families. Eventually he found a quieter section of the stadium, far from the chaos near his brother. He glanced around, squinting in search of a bathroom sign when something--or rather, someone--caught his eye.

There she was.

Standing by one of the snack vendors, talking to a group of people Quinn vaguely recognized from his own time at Umich, was Harriet--Harrie. Jack's ex. He had only really met her once or twice, usually just hearing about her from his younger brothers, but he could still recognize her.

At first, he didn't full register what he was seeing. He hadn't expected to run into her here. Sure she still went to Umich, but there were thousands of students there. He hadn't seen her in years, but she looked pretty much the same... yet different. Older, more confident in the way she carried herself. She was laughing with her friends, her curls bouncing as she threw her hair back.

Quinn shifted on his feet, trying to decide if he should go say 'hi.' He could walk past--pretend he never saw her and go on with his day--but his feet seemed to have a different idea. He was already walking toward her, pulled by something he couldn't explain.

The closer he got, the more he started to question his decision. What would he even say? Ask her how she's been? Surely he shouldn't bring up Jack. He hadn't been close to her when she dated his brother. But he knew that their breakup had been mutual. Still, the fact that she was Jack's ex made approaching her slightly more scary than normal.

"Quinn?"

Her voice was laced with surprise, snapping him from his worried thoughts. Harried had noticed him approaching, her friends now shifting their attention to him as well.

"Harrie," he replied, trying his best to sound casual.

Harrie's lips curved in a genuine smile as she stepped from her group, getting closer to Quinn. "I didn't expect to see you here," she said, her voice light, but Quinn could sense the surprise in her tone. "Is this your scene?"

He huffed, shoving his hands into the pocket of his Michigan jacket. "Not usually, no. But Luke's got a way of dragging me to things."

"Supportive big brother," she teased, her eyes studying his face. Quinn wasn't sure if it was the stadium lights or just his nerves, but he felt like he was under a microscope.

"What about you?" he asked, trying to push through the awkwardness he was feeling. "You still at Umich?"

Harrie nodded. "Yeah, for a bit longer. I'm graduating early, but I'm stuck here for a little more."

"Graduating early?" Quinn couldn't help but be impressed. It hadn't been that long since Jack and Harrie had broken up, and to hear that she was already almost done with her degree caught him off guard. "That was... fast."

She shrugged, her confidence apparent. "Yeah, I guess I'm just that good." There was a teasing look in her eyes, but Quinn could tell she wasn't bragging--just being herself.

For a moment, they just stood there. Quinn couldn't look away, he wasn't sure what it was. He wasn't supposed to think of Harrie as anything more than Jack's ex. But she seemed like she was more than that now. Like she'd written a new chapter in her life since going to Umich.

"Well, it was nice running into you," Harrie finally said. "I've gotta get back to my friends." She adjusted her tube top, flashing a quick smile before stepping back toward her friends.

"Yeah, of course. Good seeing you."

Quinn found himself staring as she walked away. He couldn't help but feel like he should've asked more questions, but what good would that have done? He was probably never going to see her again.

Or at least, that's what he told himself.

He just took a breath and shook his head, finally actually heading into the bathroom. He couldn't shake Harrie from his mind. It was so weird seeing her there. What were the chances? What a small world.

~~

Quinn worked his way back to Luke and his friends, weaving through the packed stands, flashing his badge to the security. His mind was still on Harrie. The brief encounter had thrown him off-guard, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get her out of his mind.

"Dude, where the hell were you?" Dylan laughed, barely glancing away from the field. "Took you long enough to find a bathroom."

Quinn shrugged, "Ran into someone." He didn't want to make a big deal out of it, though it felt like a bigger deal than he cared to admit.

"Who?" Luke asked, turning to face his brother.

"Harrie," Quinn replied, trying to keep it nonchalant. "You know, Jack's ex."

The group's reaction was immediate. Mark let out a low whistle, and Dylan raised an eyebrow, both now suddenly much more interested in Quinn's bathroom break.

"Harrie?" Luke's eyebrows shot up. "What, you ran into her here?"

"Yeah, by the vendors. We talked for a bit."

"Man, Harrie's still around? Haven't seen her in a hot minute," Ethan asked. "Saw her at a few parties last year... total knockout."

Quinn shifted in his seat, trying to ignore how they were talking about Harrie like she was a social spectacle. Did most guys talk about Harrie like that?

"She's still finishing up school, though, right?" Dylan chimed in. "Isn't she graduating early or something?"

Luke nodded. "Yeah, she's almost done. Doesn't party much anymore. She's all business now." He glanced at Quinn. "Did you hear about what happened last year?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Luke debated whether he should bring it up or not, but the grin pulling at the side his lips made it clear he couldn't resist. "When Jack came to visit me for that weekend, and we all went to that party. Harrie was there, and... well, one thing led to another, and they hooked up."

"Wait, what?" Quinn blinked, surprised. Jack and Harrie hooking up? His mind reeled for a second, feeling a strange mix of shock and something else--something he couldn’t quite name. "Seriously?"

"Seriously? Jack got back with her for the night?"

"Yeah, but it was a one-time thing," Luke shrugged. "At least, that's what Jack said. But I don't know, man... I don't think he's totally over her. Even if he won't admit it." He chuckled like it wasn't a big deal, but the words felt heavy to Quinn.

Ethan shook his head, nudging Quinn. "Your brother's a lucky bastard, huh? Hooking up with his ex like that? Must've been some party."

Jack and Harrie hooking up again? That was news to Quinn. Why hadn't Jack told him? He usually told him shit like that. He had just assumed Jack was over her, that their breakup was clean and mutual. Now... he wasn't so sure.

Was Jack still into Harrie? Luke had mentioned it so casually, like it wasn't filled with drama. Why was Quinn so caught up on this? He shook his head, turning his attention back to the game. He didn't need to focus on stupid shit like that, he had a season coming up.

~~

It was rare in February for Quinn to have a day off, but he did. He finally had a chance to breathe. He felt slightly more at ease than normal, but his mind still raced with thoughts of his captaincy, team responsibilities, and all that pressure that came with it. He decided to make his way to his regular coffee spot--hoping it would help him decompress a bit.

The bell above the door jingled as he pushed it open, the smell of freshly roasted coffee filled his nose. It was pretty quiet for a mid-morning, just a few tables with students studying. Quinn glanced around to find that his favourite corner table was still open.

Score.

"What can I get you?"

Quinn blinked, snapping his head up. And there she was.

Harrie.

For a second, he thought he was imagining things, but there was mistaking the girl behind the counter. Her usual brunette curls pulled back in a ponytail, the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose, her green eyes locking with his. She looked exactly how she did in the fall at Michigan.

Harrie blinked, clearly as caught-off as he was. "Quinn?"

"Harrie?"

She smiled, her surprise fading away. "Well... this is unexpected." She let out a small, awkward laugh, brushing a loose curl behind her ear. "What are you doing here?"

Quinn cleared his throat, still processing that she was standing in front of him. "Just grabbing a coffee. What about you? You're... working here?" His voice definitely gave away his surprise, but he couldn't help it.

She nodded, shrugging. "Yeah, just for now. I graduated early, like I said. Moved to Vancouver right after. I'm still looking for an editing job, but in the meantime..." She gestured around the café. "Barista life it is."

"Vancouver? You moved here?"

Harrie chuckled, looking amused by his reaction. "Yeah. Decided it was time for a change after Michigan. I always liked Vancouver... and, you know, figured I'd try something new." There was a beat of silence before she added, "It's kind of weird that we ran into each other again, huh?"

Quinn nodded slowly. Weird didn't even begin to cover it. He hadn't seen her since the football game, and now here she was--living in Vancouver, the one place he never expected to see her. "Yeah, it's... definitely unexpected.

Harrie tilted her head slightly, the teasing confidence that he remembered from the game started to seep back into her voice. "What, you didn't think I'd end up in Vancouver?"

He shook his head. "I didn't think I'd run into you at a coffee shop." He paused, glancing up at the menu board to try and mask the awkward tension he felt. "I'll just get my usual... black coffee, medium. Please."

She punched the order into the register, the smile never leaving her face. When she handed him the receipt, their hands brushed briefly, and Quinn swore he felt a flicker of something. It was fleeting, but it was enough to make him pull his hand back just a little too quickly.

Harrie noticed, her smile faltering for a few seconds. "I'll get that started. Should only take a minute."

Quinn watched as she made his coffee. She seemed more relaxed than she did at the football game, but maybe that was just because of the lack of crowd at the coffee shop. Whatever it was, he couldn't help but shake that she felt like more than just Jack's ex. She was... Harrie. She was her own person, not tied down to the label of Jack's ex in Vancouver. Before he could think of it too much more, she slid his coffee across the counter.

"Here you go. One black coffee, medium."

"Thanks."

Harrie leaned slightly on the counter, studying him a moment before asking, "How's everything going with the season?"

"It's... good. Busy, but good." He wasn't used to talking about hockey with someone outside of his usual circle. Most people either asked for too many details or not at all. But Harrie seemed genuinely curious, without pushing.

"That's good. Sounds like you've got a lot on your plate."

Quinn shrugged, unsure of what to say next. "Yeah, you know... captain stuff." He had questions he wanted to ask her, but they felt too nosey. How was she settling into Vancouver, had she seen Jack since that party, were things really over between them?

But instead he just took his coffee and didn't add anymore to his reply.

"Well, maybe I'll see you around. It seems like we have a habit of running into each other," Harrie offered.

Quinn chuckled. "Yeah, maybe." Maybe he should keep the conversation going. What could he ask that wasn't too weird and creepy. "I--" The bell above the door jingled, and a couple of customers walked in, pulling Harrie's attention away from him.

"Hi, what can I get for you today?"

He didn't want to seem like a creep, standing there and watching her do her job. So, he made his way over to his table in the corner and busied himself with his phone, trying not to think about how much he wanted to keep talking to her. Why did her being here matter to him so much?

~~

It had become somewhat of a habit on days that Quinn had downtime, he'd find himself back in the coffee shop. He wasn't really expecting to run into her, but maybe he was hoping.

And he finally had his lucky day.

The familiar bell jingled as he walked in. The café was busier this time, almost all of the tables full of people doing work or conversing. Quinn scanned the room as he walked up to the counter, eyes flickering to the cash register.

There she was.

Harrie was working the counter again, moving with her usual confidence and smile on her face. She hadn't seen him yet, and for a second, Quinn debated just walking out the door.

But before he could make that decision, she glanced up and their eyes locked.

"Hey! Back again, huh?" She teased, and Quinn felt his chest flutter with nerves.

"Yeah, I guess I'm becoming a regular," he replied. "Just the usual, please."

Harrie gave him a small nod as she rang him up, but just as Quinn was reaching for his card, she paused, sliding a pastry across the counter.

Quinn blinked, glancing at the pastry, confused. "I didn't order this."

"It's on the house. Just maybe don't tell your trainers." She winked, and Quinn found himself chuckling at her easy sense of humor.

"I'll try not to," he agreed, although he could already hear the hypothetical conversation about avoiding carbs in his head.

When she handed Quinn his coffee, he tried to think if he should continue the conversation again. He was about to step away when Harrie looked toward the clock and then back at him.

"I'm about to go on break," she said, much more casually than he expected. "If you don't mind the company, I'll join you for a bit."

Quinn felt something stir in his chest. Was it nerves? Anticipation? Whatever it was, he nodded quickly, trying to not seem too eager. "Yeah, sure. That'd be great."

He made his way to his usual corner table, settling into the chair, the pastry sitting in front of him as if it was daring him to eat it. It made him smile, Harrie was making him feel more relaxed than he had in weeks.

A few minutes later, she came over, sliding into the seat across from him, her own cup of coffee in her hand. "It's busy today," she glanced around the room. "Surprised you're not sick of this place already."

"It's become a good spot for some downtime. No rink, no meetings--just coffee."

Harrie nodded. "I get that. When I first moved here, I thought I'd be exploring the city every day, but honestly... this place has become like my comfort zone. Small, cozy... familiar."

He had so many questions he wanted to ask, and now that they were sitting there, it felt the perfect chance to really get to know her.

"So... why Vancouver? What made you decide to come here after Michigan."

She tilted her head, like she hadn't expected him to ask that, but like she appreciated it. "I've always loved Vancouver. My parents took me here when I was little and it kinda just like stuck with me. After I graduated, I just felt like I needed a change, ya know? Something different. Plus, I didn't really want to stay in Michigan. Too many memories."

He knew what she meant, even though she hadn't said it outright. Jack. There was no way that wasn't a part of why she left, but Quinn didn't press. He didn't want to make this about Jack.

"How's the job search going?"

Harrie sighed, "It's been slow. I'm looking for something in editing--publishing, mostly--but there aren't a lot of opportunities here." She glanced down at her cup, swirling the coffee around before looking up at him. "But I'm trying to stay optimistic. It'll happen eventually."

Quinn admired that about her. How she seemed so grounded, even when things weren't going according to plan. It made her even more intruiging.

"You're a lot more patient than I'd be," Quinn admitted, smiling. "I'm pretty sure I'd have given up and moved on by now."

"I don't know if it's patience or stubbornness at this point." She paused, studying him for a moment before adding, "What about you? How's the season treating you?"

"It's... a lot," he said honestly. "Being captain is great, but it's not exactly a walk in the park." He didn't want to seem like he was complaining, but Harrie didn't seem to be judging him regardless.

"I bet. That's a lot of responsibility. But from what I've heard, you're doing great."

"You've... heard about me?"

"I still follow hockey, you know. Plus, you're like kind of a big deal here."

"Not that big of a deal."

Things went quiet as they finished their drinks, the air between them more comfortable, more familiar. Quinn really felt like he was seeing Harrie in a different light. She wasn't just Jack's ex. She was funny, determined, and easy to talk to in a way that he didn't expect.

"It's been nice talking, but I should probably get back to work."

Quinn nodded, "Yeah, of course. Thanks for the company."

She gave me a warm smile as she made her way back to the counter. A smile that would be burned into Quinn's mind until he saw her again.

~~

It was becoming routine. Quinn didn't have to hope he'd run into Harrie anymore--he knew when she'd be there.

They'd started meeting regularly at the coffee shop, sometimes on weekends, sometimes during the week when Quinn had downtime. It had only been a few weeks, but things felt natural. The initial awkwardness had faded away into casual conversation.

Quinn found himself scanning the room as soon as he walked in the door. Finding her sitting in their usual corner, already halfway through a cup of coffee and a book in hand.

"Hey!" Harrie smiled when she saw him, placing a bookmark on the last page she'd read. "I got your coffee. Figured you'd be here soon."

"You know me too well."

"It's easy when you're a creature of habit," Harrie winked, taking a sip of her own coffee.

They fell into their usual rhythm, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Harrie had a special talent for making conversation feel effortless, and Quinn found himself looking forward to their meetings more and more.

"So I think it went well," she said, pushing a curl behind her ear. "I mean, I'm still waiting to hear back, but the editor seemed really interested in my experience."

"That's awesome," Quinn said, genuinely happy for her. "Sounds like things are looking up."

"Yeah, I hope so. I've kinda been in limbo for a while now. It'd be nice to get some like real direction, ya know?"

"I get it. It's like that sometimes. You think you have a plan, but things don't always go the way you expect."

"Exactly," Harrie agreed. "It's just about staying patient, I guess. Even when it's like really fucking hard."

"You've got patience for days," Quinn teased, leaning back in his seat. "You'll get there."

They shared a smile, and Quinn felt a comfortable warmth settle between them. It wasn't forced, and it didn't feel like work. It just... was.

"Speaking of plans," he leaned forward slightly, "we've got a home game coming up this weekend. You should come."

Harrie raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Are you inviting me to one of your games?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I mean, no pressure, but it could be fun. If you're free, you should come watch."

"You make it sound so casual, like it's just a pick-up game at the local rink."

"Well, it's not exactly that. But yeah, come if you want. I'll leave tickets for you at will-call."

"You're on," she raised her mug in a mock toast. "I wouldn't miss it."

They clinked their cups together. It wasn't a big deal--at least not yet--but Quinn liked the idea of her being there. Of her watching him do what she loved.

~~

The arena was still buzzing after the game, the energy of the win carrying through the halls as fans filed out. Quinn could hear the usual mix of shouts, laughter, and the occasional interview as he stepped out of the locker room, his bag flung over his shoulder.

He hadn't expected to feel nervous about Harrie being at the game. But his heart skipped a beat when he saw her standing at the end of the hall.

"There he is! The man of the hour!" she called out, a wide grin on her face as he walked over to her.

"Hey, you stayed."

"Of course I did," she pulled him into a hug. It was friendly, casual--but there was something about the way she squeezed his shoulder that made him feel lighter than he had in days. "You were amazing out there, Quinn. I'm seriously so proud of you."

He wasn't used to hearing that outside of the hockey world--his teammates, coaches, family, and even fans would offer praise, but hearing it from her? It felt different. Genuine.

"Thanks. I'm glad you came."

"Told you I wouldn't miss it. It was like super cool to see you in your element."

"Hey," Quinn said after a beat of silence, glancing toward the exit that the players took. "I was thinking... if you're not busy, we could grab some takeout and just hang out at my place? Nothing fancy, just chill."

"Takeout and chill?" she teased, making him roll his eyes. "Sounds like the perfect post-game celebration."

"Yeah, something like that. You in?"

"Duh," she gave me a nudge. "Let's go."

They ended up back at Quinn's place, bags of takeout in hand. It wasn't his usual post-game routine--usually it as grabbing food with a couple of the guys and then heading home to crash. But this? It just felt right.

Quinn tossed his keys on the counter and gestured to the living room. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll grab plates."

Harrie flopped down on the couch, kicking off her shoes as she surveyed the space. "Nice place, Hughesy. Minimalist but cozy."

"Minimalist? That's a fancy way of saying I don't have much shit."

"Hey, it works. I hate clutter anyway."

Quinn returned with plates and chopsticks, setting the takeout containers on the coffee table. The settled in, spreading out the food and digging in.

"So," Harrie started between bites of stir-fry, "you never told me how it feels being captain. I know we've talked about hockey in general, but like... how's it been? The pressure, the responsiblity, all of it?"

Most people didn't ask him about the emotional side of being captain--they were more interested in the wins, stats, or the highlights. But Harrie wasn't most people. She always asked about the things that actually mattered.

"That's a deep question to start with."

"You're stalling."

"It's a lot," Quinn admitted. "Good, but a lot. There's like always pressure on you, ya know? Not just as a player, but as a leader too. I have to make sure everyone is dialed in, not just myself. It's more than just playing hockey now."

Harried nodded. "That sounds like a huge responsibility. But from what I've seen, you're handling it really well."

"I'm trying. Some days are better than others." He glanced over at her, admiring how comfortable she looked, sitting there with takeout in her lap, genuinely interested in everything he had to say. "But I love it. Wouldn't change it for the world, even when it gets stressful."

"I can tell. You belong out there."

They fell into silence again, the sounds of the city buzzing outside as they ate. It again wasn't forced, just easy, like they'd done it a hundred times before. And as the night wore on, Quinn realized just how much he valued their friendship. Their connection.

"You ever miss Michigan?" she asked after a while.

"Sometimes. I mean, I miss being close to my family, but I love it here. Vancouver feels like home now."

Harried nodded, staring down at her empty container. "I get that. I miss certain things about Michigan, too. But Vancouver's starting to feel like home now... I think."

"Good. We'll make a Vancouverite out of you soon."

"Guess we'll see," she giggled.

The conversation continued to drift from one topic to another, neither of them wanting to cave and end the night. It was real and it was comfortable, and Quinn wanted nothing to change.

~~

Quinn was scrolling aimlessly through Instagram when a text from Harrie popped up.

Guess who just landed a job at the publishing house?!

He blinked at the screen, a grin immediately spreading across his face as he sat up straighter. His heart lifted at the thought of her excitement.

No way! That's awesome! When do you start?

Two weeks! I'm still freaking tf out! We need to celebrate!!

Quinn felt so proud of her. After months of searching, she'd finally found something that fit her. He knew how much she'd been waiting for that moment.

Name the time and place. We can do dinner or a movie night if you're in the mood to keep it lowkey

Harrie's response came quickly and with clear excitement.

Move night!! How about my place? 7?

That evening Quinn found himself standing outside Harrie's apartment, takeout in hand. It wasn't the first time he'd been over. The coffee shop hangouts had been replaced by more relaxed meetups, and tonight was just like that.

He knocked lightly and within seconds, the door swung open to reveal Harrie's beaming face.

"Hey! You brought food? You're officially my favourite person."

"Figured we'd need something to go with the celebration."

They moved to the living room, setting up like they had many times before. Harrie was practically glowing, the excitement radiating off her in waves.

"I can't believe it. I thought the interview went well, but I didn't expect them to call so soon. It feels... surreal."

"You deserve it," Quinn said sincerely. "You've been working your ass off to get here. It was just a matter of time, Harrie."

"Thanks, Q. It means a lot."

They laughed and celebrated her new job and by the time they finally settled into picking a movie, any nerves that Harrie felt were gone.

"Okay, you pick," she tossed him the remote.

Quinn caught it with ease, pretending to think deeply about his choice. "Hm... I'm thinking something classic. You can't go wrong with 'The Princess Bride.'"

Harrie's eyes lit up. "Oh my God, yes! I haven't watched that in forever!"

This was nice. It was really nice.

~~

Weeks had passed since their first movie night, and it had officially become part of their routines. Whenever Quinn wasn't travelling for games, they'd meet at one of their apartments--sometimes his, sometimes hers--and spend the evening watching movies, eating, and talking about anything that came to mind. They'd become friends in the truest sense of the word.

Whenever Quinn was exhausted on roadies, he'd think of their next movie night. Harrie had become such a constant in his life, a part of his routine that he hated giving up for road trips.

They were just friends. That's all it was. And he missed hanging out with someone who took his mind off hockey.

But as he stared at the ceiling of his hotel room, replaying every hang out from the last few weeks, Quinn couldn't deny that he felt... something. Something more.

He tried to shake it off, telling himself that it was just because they were close now and spent lots of their time together. But even as he drifted off to sleep, his thoughts lingered on Harrie.

~~

It was just another movie night. At least that's what Quinn was telling himself.

They'd done it so many times--takeout, a random movie, laughs, and then spending the rest of the night in easy conversation. It became something they both looked forward to after a long week of work. But that night, things felt different. Quinn couldn't place it, they just did.

They were at his place, sitting on the couch, plates long forgotten on the coffee table. The lights were dimmed, the movie they'd chosen playing in the background, but neither of them were paying much attention. The conversation had turned more personal, as it often did, but things felt charged that night.

Harrie was sitting closer than usual.

Quinn noticed it the second he sat down, and now he could feel her leg brushing against his. It wasn't like that hadn't happened before, but it felt more pursposeful this time.

"So," Harrie said, her fingers playing with the cuff of her shirt. "What's been on your mind lately? You've seemed... distracted."

Quinn blinked. He hadn't realized he'd been that transparent. "I guess I've been thinking about a lot of... things. Hockey, mostly. You know how it is."

Harrie nodded, but she searched his face for something more. "Yeah, but it feels like it's more than just hockey."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. The conversation was getting deeper, pulling in a direction he hadn't expected. But there was no going back.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I think I've just been trying to figure out where my head's at lately."

She tilted her head. "And have you figured it out?"

His heart was racing now, and he wasn't sure why. He looked up at her, his gaze locking with hers, and everything else seemed to fade away. The movie, the half-finished drinks on the table, the noise of the city outside--it all blurred into the background.

"I think I'm starting to."

Harrie didn't say anything, but the look in her eyes made his chest tight. They had been close for weeks-- closer than friends, even if neither of them had said it out loud. It felt like everything was finally coming to a head.

She shifted slightly, her knee pressing against his leg, and Quinn felt his breath hitch. It was subtle, but he still noticed. How could he not?

Harrie's gaze flickered down to his lips, and for the first time, Quinn let himself ask-- what if?

He wasn't entirely sure who moved first. Maybe it was him, maybe it was her, or maybe it was just the inevitable pull they'd both been feeling for weeks. But before he knew it, he was leaning in, and so was she. The space between them disappeared, and just like that, her lips met his.

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, as if they were both testing the waters. But within seconds, it got deeper. Quinn melted into it, it felt so right.

Her hand made it's way to his shoulder, her fingers gripping lightly as she leaned in even closer. Everything Quinn had been overthinking--the boundaries of their friendship, the lines he was afraid to cross--all disappeared.

"Quinn..." Harrie whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Yeah?" his voice was breathy.

She smiled, her hand still resting on his shoulder. "I think I've wanted to do that for a while."

"Yeah? I think I have, too."

There was no rush to define what had just happened, no need for overthinking. It felt natural.

"So... now what?" Harrie giggled. "Do we just pretend it didn't happen, or...?"

"I don't think we can pretend that didn't happen." He paused for a second, looking at her seriously. "Do you want to?"

"No. No, I don't."

"Good. Because I don't either."

One thing was clear--this was more than just a friendship now. And there was no going back.

~~

It had only been a couple of weeks since their first kiss, but things between Quinn and Harrie had shifted completely. What had once been a comfortable friend had transformed into something that neither of them wanted to slow down.

That kiss had opened the door to a new level of closeness, and the lines between friendship and romance had quickly blurred. They hadn't talked much about what they were specifically--labels didn't seem necessary.

They were at Quinn's again, sitting on the couch like they had countless times before. But instead sitting with space between them, Harrie was talked under his arm, her head resting on his chest. Quinn was absentmindedly tracing circles on her shoulder as Netflix booted up on the TV.

"So, we're going with 'The Breakfast Club,' huh?" Harrie teased, looking up at him with a smirk.

"You know it's a classic," Quinn chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "I can't believe you've never seen it."

She rolled her eyes, snuggling closer to his side. "I know, I know. I've been told it's a crime. Guess you're here to fix that."

Quinn smiled. He liked that they'd been spending more time like that--cuddling, sharing more intimate moments. It wasn't just about that though. They were talking more, opening up in ways that hadn't been part of their friendship before.

They stayed cuddled for the rest of the movie, laughing at the cheesy parts, trading comments on the characters. But as the movie rolled on, Harrie's hand slipped onto Quinn's chest, and he couldn't help but notice how his heartbeat picked up whenever she touched him.

"You're kind of a softie, you know that?" she teased, trailing her fingers along the fabric of his shirt.

"Maybe. But you like it."

She bit her lip, "Yeah, I guess I do."

He leaned down slowly, his hand sliding up to cradle her cheek, and before either of them could overthink it, he kissed her. Soft at first, but quickly deepening, neither of them feeling the need to hold back like the first time.

Harrie shifted, turning slightly so she could face him more fully, her fingers curling into his shirt as she kissed him back. Quinn's other hand found her waist, pulling her onto his lap.

"Okay, you've convinced me," she heaved.

"About what?"

"That you're a softie," her eyes twinkled as she leaned in and kissed him again, this time softer, slower.

Kissing had become second nature, and every time Quinn pulled her closer, it felt like they were falling into something deeper.

~~

It was late afternoon and they were lounging on the couch, as usual. The TV was on in the background, but Quinn had something else on his mind. Something he'd been thinking about for days, debating on whether or not to bring it up.

The playoffs were coming, and things between them had been going really well. Better than he could've imagined. Harrie was part of his life every day, and even though they still hadn't labelled what they were, Quinn felt it heading in that direction.

That's why he wanted her there--for the biggest game of his career so far. He wanted her to see him on the ice, to experience the excitement of playoffs with him.

He cleared his throat, looking down at her. "Hey, so I've been thinking... about the playoff games coming up."

Harrie looked up from her phone, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah? What about them?"

"I want you to come."

"You... want me to come to a playoff game?"

"Yeah," he sat up a little straighter. "I want you there. It's a big deal, and I just... want you to be a part of it."

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, processing his words. "Are you sure? I mean, it's the playoffs, Quinn. That's, like, huge. Don't you have enough pressure without worrying about having me there?"

"It wouldn't be like that," Quinn assured. "Having you there would make it better. It wouldn't add pressure. I promise, Harrie."

She smiled, but there was doubt in her eyes. "I don't know... wouldn't it be weird? Like, I'm not officially your girlfriend or anything, so..."

Quinn cut her off, grabbing her hand. "Who cares about labels? You mean so much to me, Harriet. And the guys' girlfriends and wives... they'll love you. I already know it."

"I don't know, Quinn. I mean, it's not that I don't want to go, but..."

"There's something else," he studied her expression carefully. "What's really holding you back?"

Harrie sighed, how was she supposed to word this. She hadn't even voiced it aloud to herself, so she sure as hell wasn't ready to admit it to Quinn. She'd have to come up with an excuse. She couldn't tell him that she was afraid of being recognized by the other girls as Jack's ex. She'd look like a fool. "I guess I'm just worried about the other girlfriends. I don't want to... get in their way. It's stupid, I know. But I know myself and I'd rather be there and be... comfortable than a nervous wreck."

"I get it, Harrie. That's totally fine. If you'd rather sit elsewhere, you can sit elsewhere. I just want you to be there. Period."

"Thanks, Q."

"Of course. And besides..." He leaned forward, pulling something out from the side of the couch that he'd been hiding until the perfect moment.

He held up a Canucks jacket, one that she'd seen the other WAGs posting about. He'd gotten her one made? "I got this for you."

She stared at the jacket is disbelief, "Quinn... what? No! I can't wear that. I'm not even--"

"Yes, you can," he interrupted, his smile wide. "It's not a big deal. Just think of it as... supporting me. Sit wherever you want. No pressure to hang with the other WAGs. And you'll still have my name on your back." He flipped up the collar, showing his signature printed on the underside.

Harrie let out a nervous laugh, eyeing the jacket like it was some sort of magical item. "You really want me to wear this? And I don't have to sit with them?"

"Not if you don't want to. But I'm telling you, they'll love you. And I'd really, really love to have you there. Please? Just say yes."

"Okay, okay, fine. I'll come. But I'm holding you to that promise--I don't have to sit with the other girlfriends."

"Deal."

"And the jacket..." Harrie said, her voice trailing off as she reached for it. "It's cute, but I still feel weird wearing it."

"You'll look great," he gently pressed a kiss to her cheek. "And you'll be supporting me, which is what matters."

Harrie laughed, shaking her head as she pulled the jacket into her lap. "Okay, you win. But I'm still nervous."

Quinn smiled, resting his forehead against hers. "It's just me and you, Harrie. You've got nothing to be nervous about."

~~

Harrie waited for Quinn in the players' lounge, her excitement bubbling over. She hadn't sat with the WAGs, instead glued to the game, cheering on from her own seat.

When Quinn finally emerged from the locker room, his hair damp from the shower, a tired grin on his face. She practically bounced over to him, throwing her arms around him.

"You killed it out there!"

"Thanks," he murmured against her hair. "I was hoping you'd think so."

She leaned back, looking up at him. "I more than think so. I know so."

"You want to head back to mine?" Quinn asked softly, his voice low in her ear.

Harrie nodded, her pulse quickening. She knew what he was asking--this wasn't just a casual invite. This was more.

"Yeah. Let's go."

~~

Harrie followed him into the living room, watching as he set down his keys on the table. They were both buzzing with post-game adrenaline, their cheeks flushed.

"Want a drink?"

"I'm good," she said softly, stepping closer to him, the tension building.

Quinn closed the space between them, his hands resting on her hips as he leaned down to kiss her. No holding back this time. Her hands slid up his shoulders, pulling him closer. And before they knew it, they were stumbling towards his bedroom, their laughter trailing behind them.

Hours later, they lay tangled together, moonlight filtering through the blinds. Quinn's arm was draped over her waist, his fingers tracing patterns on his skin as they lay there, both still a little breathless.

"You okay?" He asked, pressing a kiss to the back of her shoulder.

Harrie nodded, "More than okay."

"Good."

They didn't talk after that. The silence between them comfortable as they drifted off to sleep. Harrie felt the most at ease she had in Vancouver. Everything felt right.

~~

Harrie was always an early bird. It didn't matter how late she stayed up or how tired she was, her body just knew when it was time to get up. So, when the first light of morning crept through the blinds, she was stirring, blinking awake as she slid out of bed.

Quinn was still fast asleep, his arm draped lazily over where she'd been lying moments before. She smiled softly as she watched him for a second, his face completely at peace. Last night had been perfect, and waking up next to him was even better.

But her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since before the game. She pulled on her thong and Quinn's dress shirt from the night before, the fabric brushing against her bare legs, and she padded her way to the kitchen.

Harrie set to work, rummaging through the fridge and cupboards to see what she could make for breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast--nothing fancy, but it would do the trick. She hummed softly to herself as she cracked the eggs into a pan, feeling surprisingly at home.

She didn't hear Quinn wake up, didn't notice him until she felt the warmth of his hands slide around her waist, pulling her back gently against him. His breath was warm against her neck, and he pressed soft kisses to her neck, making her laugh as she turned to face him.

"Morning," Harrie said softly, smiling as he nuzzled into her neck.

"Mmm," Quinn murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. "Now this is a view I could get used to. Waking up to you cooking in my shirt. And... the breakfast doesn't hurt either."

She laughed, flipping the bacon in the pan. "I didn't know you were a vampire, Hughes. You left quite the marks on me last night."

Quinn grinned, his hands tightening around her waist as he glanced at her neck, seeing the bright purple and red marks from the night before. "Guess I got carried away," he teased, pressing a kiss to a spot he'd marked.

"Yeah, just a little," she teased, tilting her head to give him better access to her neck, enjoying the warmth of his body pressed against hers.

They stood like that, wrapped in each other, the sizzling of the grease in the pan the only noise in the apartment. Everything felt easy.

"I could really get used to this," Quinn said softly, still peppering kiss and adding more marks to Harrie's neck.

"Yeah? You like waking up to breakfast?"

He shook his head, "No, I mean... waking up with you. Having you here. I want this to be a regular thing."

She turned in his arms to face him, her hands on his chest. "What're you saying?"

Quinn's hands slid up to her cheeks, cupping them. "I'm saying I want you to be my girlfriend, Harrie. Officially. I don't want to dance around it anymore."

She hadn't expected him to say it right then, but the truth was, she'd been feeling the same way. She wanted this, wanted him.

"Are you sure?"

"More than sure. I'm crazy about you, Harriet. I don't want anyone else."

Harrie smiled, leaning up to kiss him. That was her answer--a kiss filled with feelings that she couldn't put into words. They both smiled into it, their teeth clashing.

"Okay, Quintin. I'll be your girlfriend."

Quinn's smile was immediate, peppering her entire face in kisses as he picked her up and spun them in a circle. "You have no idea how happy that makes me."

"I think I do," she teased, leaning her forehead against his.

Breakfast was momentarily forgotten as they let the weight of the moment settle in. They were officially together. Finally.

~~

It had been a fun night--one of those nights where things just went perfectly. They had gone out with some of Quinn's teammates, hit a few bars, and ended up back at Harrie's apartment, stumbling through the front door, laughing as they tried to stay upright.

Quinn wasn't used to being this drunk, especially during the season, but they had the next couple days off, and it had just... happened. Harrie had let loose too, and now they were both tipsy, giddy, and without filters.

They collapsed onto her bed, still laughing. Quinn's arm slung over her shoulders, her head resting on his chest. They'd been officially together for a few weeks and things were so easy. He liked that. He liked her.

"That was fun," Harrie giggled, fidgetting with the bottom of Quinn's shirt. "Your friends are hilarious."

"I told you they were cool," he replied. He was definitely more buzzed than usual, but he felt good. Especially with Harrie by his side.

"You know, it's crazy how different everything feels now," Harrie said, her words slower, more thoughtful. "Like, moving here, starting over, meeting you..."

Quinn looked down at her, sensing a deeper meaning behind her words. "What do you mean?"

"I guess I've just been thinking about... the past. About how much things have changed."

Quinn's stomach tensed slightly and it wasn't from the alcohol. He tried not to let it show, but he had a feeling he knew where this was going. Jack.

"Like what?" he asked, even though he was pretty sure he didn't want to know the answer.

"Like Jack. I haven't really talked about him have I?"

"No, not really."

Harrie let out a small laugh, but there was sadness behind it. "We were together for so long, you know? It's weird to think about how different things are now. He was my first real relationship. From high school to his rookie season... that's a lot of history."

Quinn nodded slowly. He knew they had a past--everyone did--but it wasn't something he wanted to dwell on. "Yeah, I remember."

"When we broke up," she continued, her voice quieter. "It wasn't even a bad breakup. It as mutual. The distance was just... too much. We were growing apart, and I think we both knew it deep down." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "But it's still weird, ya know? I don't think you ever really forget someone like that."

Quinn's mind was racing as he tried to stay calm. He didn't know how to respond. He had always pushed Jack out of his mind when it came to Harrie. She wasn't Jack's ex to him. She was just Harrie. But now, hearing her talk about Jack, it made things feel complicated.

"You ever talk to him now?"

Harrie shook her head. "No. Not really. We haven't talked much since the breakup."

There was a pause, and Quinn felt like he should be relieved--but something still gnawed at him.

"I saw him last year, though," Harrie added softly, her words slurring more as the alcohol kicked in. "When he came to visit Luke at Michigan. We ran into each other at a party."

His mind immediately jumping to the story Luke had mentioned about Harrie and Jack hooking up again that weekend. Was she going to tell him?

But she didn't.

"We talked for a while, caught up," she continued. "It wasn't weird or anything. I think we both realized we'd moved on, ya know? I was focused on graduating, and he was doing his thing in Jersey. We were just... different people by then."

He tried to make sense of what she was saying. She hadn't mentioned the hookup. Why hadn't she mentioned it? Did she not think it mattered? Or... did she still have feelings for Jack that she wasn't admitting to herself?

Harrie's eyes fluttered closed, the alcohol making her sleepy. "I'm glad I'm not stuck in the past," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "I'm happy with you, Quinn. Really happy."

Did she still think about Jack?

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his mind in overdrive, though he tried to stay grounded. "I'm happy with you too, Harrie."

She'd fallen asleep, her breathing slow and steady. But Quinn couldn't sleep.

He just lay there staring at the ceiling. He knew he shouldn't have read into it too much--Harrie had been drunk, she'd opened up about her past, and she hadn't said anything that should make him worry.

But the missing piece of the story--the part about her hooking up with Jack last year--it sat in the back of his mind. Why hadn't she mentioned it? Had she forgotten it? Or was it something more?

Was he just overthinking this? Was Jack still in her head, even after all this time? And if he was, where did that leave Quinn?

She was happy with him. She'd said so.

But Quinn couldn't shake the feeling that something had been left unsaid, and as the hours ticked by, he found himself still wide awake, overthinking every word, every single detail of what she had told him.

~~

Quinn's head was pounding. They'd gone too hard, but he didn't regret it--just hadn't anticipated having to be alone with his thoughts. For once, Harrie wasn't awake before him. Still curled up into his side, her breathing steady. The conversation they'd had about Jack had stuck with him, replaying in his mind all night.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he carefully sat up as to not disturb Harrie. But as if sensing him being awake, Harrie stirred, blinking groggily as she adjusted to the light. "Ugh, why is it so bright?"

"That's what happens after a night like we had. Too much fun, not enough water."

Harrie winced, "Yeah, I definitely didn't pace myself. But... there's something I wanted to talk to you about. Even if my head feels like it's about to explode."

"Sure, what's up?"

Harrie took a deep breath, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "I just... I think it was stupid of me to bring up Jack last night. I mean, we were hammered, and that conversation just kinda came out of nowhere."

Quinn stayed quiet, letting her speak. She was bringing it up first... that was a good sign.

"I don't want you to think I'm still hung up on him. Beause I'm not. I swear. I shouldn't have mentioned him, but I guess drunk-me was like nostalgic or some shit. It's just that... there's nothing to worry about, Quinn. You and Jack? Two completely different people.

"You don't have to explain it, Harrie. I get it."

But she just shook her head, as if she wasn't convinced he really did understand. "No, I do. I need to explain. Because I don't want you to think I like compare you to him or anything like that. I can't even compare you two. You're... not comparable? Jack is my past, but you're my present, Quinn."

He felt relieved, but there was still a small nagging thought--a reminder that she hadn't mentioned the part about hooking up with him. A small piece of the puzzle still missing, but he shoved it aside, not allowing himself to dwell on it.

"That means a lot to hear, Harriet. I won't lie... hearing about Jack last night caught me off guard. But I get it. It's your past and I'm not going to hold that against you."

"Exactly, that's all it is. The past. I want to be with you, Quinn. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

He believed her.

"I want to be with you too. And I trust you, Harrie. I do."

Harrie's expression softened and she leaned in to give him a quick peck. "Good. Because you're the only person I'm thinking about these days."

Quinn kissed her again, pulling her closer, and everything felt right.

~~

Harrie and Quinn were in the kitchen, moving in tandem as they prepared dinner. It had become another part of their routine--cooking together. They were a team and it had grown to be one of Quinn's favourite parts of their relatiobship.

Harrie was standing at the stove, stirring a pan of pasta sauce; while Quinn stood beside her, chopping vegetables. It was simple, but they were still doing it together.

"You're getting good at this," Harrie teased as Quinn finished chopping a bell pepper. "I remember when you didn't even know how to properly dice an onion."

Quinn grinned, "Well, I had a good teacher."

"It's about time you gave me some credit."

They continued to cook side by side, dancing to the music playing from Quinn's phone. But as they neared the end of dinner prep, the inevitable topic of the summer came up.

"So, what's the plan for the summer?" Harrie asked, pouring the sauce over the pasta as Quinn started setting the table. "You and Jack have anything big planned."

Quinn paused. Summer. He hadn't wanted to think about it too much, but now that it was only a couple weeks away, he couldn't avoid it. The lake house, being with Jack...

"Yeah, we'll probably spend a lot of time at the lake house. You know, with the guys--Luke, Trevor, Cole."

Harrie nodded, "That sounds fun. I'm sure you'll have a blast."

"What about you? What's your plan?"

Harrie shrugged, serving them both a plate of pasta before sitting across from him. "I'll probably stick around Vancouver for the most part. Work's getting busy, and I've got some projects lined up. But we'll see each other before the end of summer, right? I could always come visit."

"Yeah, I'd love that."

He hadn't brought it up yet, his worry about being around Jack for that long, about the guilt of keeping his relationship with Harrie a secret.

He couldn't hold it in any longer. "Are you... worried? About me being with Jack all summer?"

Harrie blinked, surprised, then shook her head. "Worried? No, not really. Should I be?"

Quinn shifted in his chair, "I just... I don't know. It's weird, right? Keeping this from him. It feels like... like I'm hiding something."

Harrie smiled, reaching across the table to take his hand. "Quinn, you don't have to worry. Jack's not going to find out. And even if he did... we're happy. That's all that matters."

"I know, I just... I don't like keeping this from him. I feel like I'm lying."

"You're not lying. You're just waiting for the right time to tell him. And like I've said before, it's not some huge betrayal. Jack's moved on. You and I are... us. Separate from all of that."

"You're way too calm about this," he teased.

Harrie rolled her eyes. "Because it's not a big deal! Quinn, you're overthinking this. Jack's not like going to magically figure it out."

"You don't know him like I do."

"True," she admitted, standing up, and leaning across the table to kiss him softly. "But I do know that everything is fine. We're fine. And you're going to have a great summer without stressing about this."

"Come here," Quinn murmured, pulling her onto his lap. "I don't know how you do it," he kissed the side of her neck. "You're way too good at calming me down."

"It's a talent," she teased, kissing him again. "Now stop worrying. You're going to spend the summer with your brothers and friends. Have fun, relax, and maybe let me visit."

"Deal."

~~

It had been days since Quinn had arrived at the lake house, and he was surprised by how quickly his worries had disappeared. The moment he stepped on the dock and the sun hit his skin, it felt like all his tension melted away. Being with his brothers, Cole, Trevor, and their other friends had a way of making shit feel normal again.

There had been boat trips, barbecues, and long nights sitting around the fire laughing about stupid shit. Quinn had been so worried about keeping the secret from Jack, but he felt at east when he was actually there. Jack was his usual self and Quinn believed things wouldn't be as bad as he thought. Maybe they could get through the whole summer without any drama.

The boys were all sat around the table, playing cards. The atmosphere are light, everyone was teasing each other, throwing out sarcastic comments about bad hands and questionable moves.

"Dude, there's no way in hell you're beating that," Trevor said with a grin, throwing his cards down as he leaned back and crossed his arms. "I'm calling it. Game over."

"Please," Jack shot back, laying out his hand. "That's rookie stuff. I've got this."

Quinn chuckled leaning over to check Jack's hand. "Bullshit. He's got nothing."

The whole group laughed. This was exactly that Quinn had needed--a break. And for the first time in a while, he wasn't worried about what he was keeping from Jack.

That was, until his phone buzzed from the centre of the table. The guys had all decided no phones while they played, so they'd all been placed on the table.

He didn't think much of it, just another text. But then, Trevor, who was sitting closest to Quinn's phone, glanced at the screen that lit up again.

"Hey, Quinn, you've got a text from 'H <3.' Who's the luck lady?"

Quinn froze, his stomach dropping to his feet. He had forgotten when he'd left his phone on the table that Harrie's contact had a heart next to it. He tried his best to act nonchalant, but he definitely wasn't feeling it.

Before he could grab his phone, Jack snatched it from the pile on the table.

"Let's see what 'H <3' has to say," Jack teased, laughing as he unlocked his brother's phone. "Bet she's a total smokeshow."

Quinn's heart caught in his throat as he watched Jack read the message. His playful smile slowly falling, going from amused to confused to... Quinn wasn't really sure what.

"Quinn," Jack said slowly, his voice was controlled but there was a certain sharpness to it. "Who's 'H?' And why is she texting you that she can't wait to see you again and misses you already? And that she wishes she was back home in Michigan? You're dating a girl from Michigan?"

The room went silent. Everyone's eyes were on Quinn now, waiting for an answer. He swallowed hard, he felt like he couldn't keep lying. He couldn't dodge, he couldn't deflect. It felt too wrong. There was nothing he could do to make the guys drop this. He knew them better than that.

"It's... Harrie."

Jack blinked, "Harrie? Like... my ex-girlfriend, Harrie? Harriet?"

Quinn nodded slowly, unable to look Jack in the eye. "Yeah. That Harrie."

The guys shifted uncomfortably, exchanging glances, but nobody said a word. Jack was just staring, trying to process what he'd just been told.

"How long?" his voice was tight.

"A few months. But it's not what you think, Jack. It just... happened. I didn't plan it. Neither of us did."

Jack's jaw tightened, and for a moment Quinn thought he might get up and storm out of the room. But he didn't. He leaned back in his chair, letting out a long, deep breath.

"You're telling me you've been with my ex for months? And you didn't think to mention it?" His tone was dangerously calm.

Quinn shook his head. "I wanted to, I swear. I just... didn't know how. I didn't want to hurt you."

Jack laughed, but there was no humour to it. "Well, mission accomplished, bro. You sure as hell kept it well hidden from me."

Trevor cleared his throat, "Maybe we should take a break from the game..."

"No. It's fine. I'm fine," Jack looked back at Quinn. "But I need to know one thing, Quinn--do you actually care about her? Or is this just some hookup?"

He cared about her more than anything, but saying that to Jack, in that moment, felt like betrayal. "I care about her, Jack. A lot."

"Then I guess you've made your choice."

Without another word, Jack stood up, walking out of the room and leaving Quinn sitting there, the guilt crushing him while the other guys just sat there in stunned silence.

~~

After the initial reveal, things seemed surprisingly normal. Jack had acted pissed for a moment, but the next morning he brushed it all off, saying everything was fine. He didn't bring up Harrie again, didn't make any snide comments about Jack's relationship. If anything, he just acted like he didn't care.

Quinn wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe Jack was okay with it, that things were back to normal. But something in the back of his mind told him that he wasn't really over it at all.

They had been at the lake for a week, and like many other nights, they were drinking. The stars overhead, the lake shimmering under the moonlight, they all sat around the fire getting drunk.

Trevor and Cole were in the middle of some ridiculous debate about the best post-game meal, Luke was cracking up, and Jack... well Jack had been downing beers faster than anyone else.

"Alright, alright, let's settle this," Trevor slurred, holding up his beer. "Which is worse? Post-game hunger or post-game soreness?"

Cole laughed, almost spilling his drink. "Dude, hunger, for sure. You can't do shit when you're starving."

"Nah, soreness," Luke chimed in. "Can't even more when you're that sore."

The conversation continued, but Quinn noticed the shift in Jack. Usually he was jumping into conversations like that, giving his own stupid answer. But instead, he was just staring at the fire. Watching it flicker. And Quinn could tell that the alcohol had really hit him. Hard.

Finally, Jack broke the silence, cutting off the laughter around him. "You know what's worse? Being lied to."

The group went quiet, the obvious change in tone catching them all off guard. Trevor glanced at Jack, confused. "What are you talking about, dude?"

Jack laughed, sharp and bitter. "I'm talking about finding out your brother's been fucking your ex behind your back for months and didn't even bother to tell you."

It was clear that Jack had been holding onto it the entire time.

"Jack, come on," Quinn tried to defuse the situation. "We talked about this. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just... happened."

Jack snorted, locking eyes with his older brother. "Yeah? Just happened, huh? Like how it just happened that you didn't tell me for months? Like how it just happened that you thought you could keep this from me forever?"

"I didn't want to hurt you, Jack," Quinn repeated, trying to stay calm. "I just didn't know how to bring it up? I'm sorry, okay?"

Jack leaned forward, a dangerous smile spread across his face. "Oh, you're sorry? That's nice, Quinn. Really. But let me ask you this--did she ever tell you about the last time we saw each other?"

Quinn knew exactly where this was going. Although he pretended he didn't. "What're you talking about?"

"Oh, she didn't tell you?" Jack said, his tone mocking, his words slurring together. "Of course she didn't. Well, let me fill you in, bro. Last time we saw each other? We fucked. And let me tell you," he laughed. "She fucking loved it."

The words hit Quinn like a punch to the face, but Jack wasn't done.

"You think you're the only one she cares about, huh?" His voice was growing louder, angrier. "You really think she's over me? Please. She'll never get over me. You're gonna have to accept the fact that every time she's with, every time she's in your bed, she's thinking of me."

Luke looked like he wanted to say something, but he held back. Just staring wide-eyed like Trevor and Cole.

Quinn's hands gripped the arms of his chair. He knew about the hookup--or at least, he knew it supposedly happened. But hearing Jack say it out loud, hearing the venom in his voice, made it feel a thousand times worse.

"Jack, you're drunk," Quinn shook his head. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I know exactly what I'm saying! I'm saying that no matter how much you think you care about her, she's never gonna get over me. And if you think she's not comparing you to me every time you're with her, you're a fucking idiot."

For a moment, Quinn thought about getting up, grabbing Jack by the collar and forcing him to stop talking. But instead he sat there, staring at his brother, feeling the weight of every word sink deeper into his skin.

"Jack, that's enough," Luke finally spoke up. "You're drunk, let's go to bed."

Jack swayed slightly on his feet. "Whatever. You all have fun playing hosue with Quinn and his new 'girlriend.' Just don't be surprised when she comes running back to me."

~~

Quinn practically stumbled up the stairs, rushing to his room. Each one of Jack's words hit him like a sledgehammer.

"She'll never get over me."

He sank onto the edge of his bed, closing his door. His phone was clutched tightly in his hand, his head spinning. He needed to talk to her. He needed answers.

His fingers moved on autopiloet, dialing Harrie's number before he could stop himself. The phone only rang twice before she picked up.

"Hey, you!" Her voice was light and teasing. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you tonight. How's lake life treating you?"

"Harrie..."

"What's up? Did you miss me already? Because I'm warning you, it's gonna be hard to beat this pasta I made for dinner. You'll be jealous."

But Quinn wasn't laughing.

"Jack knows," his voice low, words coming out jumbled. "About us. He found out. The other night."

There was a pause on the other end of the line and he could hear Harrie shift. "Oh... okay. What happened? Did he freak out?"

"No," Quinn muttered, feeling the tension in his shoulders tighten. "Not at first. He acted like it was no big deal. But then we got drunk tonight, and he just... he lost it, Harrie."

"Quinn..." her tone was calming. "What exactly did he say?"

"He told me you two hooked up. Last time he saw you. He said you 'fucking loved it.'" The bitterness in his tone was palpable, and the words felt like poison on his tongue. "He said you'd never get over him, Harrie. That I'd have to accept that every time you're with me, you're imagining him."

Silence. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, almost disbelieving. "He said that to you?"

He nodded even thought she couldn't see him. "Yeah. He said that. And now I just..." he trailed off, his voice breaking slightly. "I thought you were over him. You told me you were over him."

"I am over him," Harrie said firmly. She sounded more frustrated, more concerned. "Quinn, that hookup that he's talking about? Happened almost two years ago. It'll be two years in August. Long before I knew you the way I do now. Meant nothing. It was closure. Jack's just... being an ass. He's drunk and trying to get under your skin."

"But why didn't you tell me about it, Harrie? You never mentioned it. And now, after hearing Jack say that, I--" He paused, swallowing harshly. "I don't know what to think. I don't know what's real anymore."

There was a sigh from Harrie, the kind she let out when she was trying to remain calm, trying to find the right words. "Quinn, I didn't tell you because it didn't matter. I didn't want to bring it up because I'm not that person anymore. And I don't think Jack is either. I didn't want you to think I still had feelings for him. Because I don't. I didn't then, and I don't now."

Quinn ran a hand down his face. "But Jack... he made it sound like you're not over him. Like you'll never be over him. How am I supposed to just ignore that?"

"You know that's not true, right? Quinn, I am over him. I'm with you because you're the one that I want. Jack is a part of my past, but you... you're my now, Quinn."

She hestiated when he didn't respond, but decided to keep talking. "Quinn, I love you. I didn't know when or how to tell you, but I do. I love you. And I don't want you to doubt that because of something Jack said just to hurt you."

Quinn froze. She loved him? She'd never said that before. He wanted to let those words wash away everything Jack had said.

But he couldn't.

"Harrie..." he started, his voice strained. "I--"

He couldn't say it back. He couldn't find the words. "I need some time to think."

"Okay... I understand. We can talk more later, Quinn. Just... please know that I'm here. I love you."

"I'll talk to you later," he avoided the words she needed to hear. Now all he could do was sit with his doubts, torn between his love for Harrie and the guilt he felt towards his brother.

~~

Harrie hadn't slept. She felt guilty for not telling Quinn about her hookup with Jack. And she couldn't get over the hurt she felt when Quinn hadn't said that he loved her back. But more than that she was angry. Angry at herself, at the situation, but mostly angry at Jack.

Jack needed to hear the truth, not just from Quinn... from her. If he thought he could stir up trouble just because of a hook-up nearly two years ago, he was sorely mistaken.

Without hesitation, she called Jack. For the first time in years.

"Harrie?" Jack was groggy with sleep and surprise. "What's up?"

Harrie didn't waste time on plesantries. "We need to talk. Now."

"Okay... what's this about?"

Harrie clenched her jaw, feeling the anger bubble inside her. "It's about you acting like a complete asshole to your brother last night. Quinn told me what you said, Jack."

Jack sighed, clearly trying to brush it off. "Look, I was drunk, alright? I didn't mean half the shit I said."

"But you did say it," Harrie snapped. "You're using that fucking hookup between us like it still means something. It doesn't, Jack. It hasn't for a long time."

Jack was quiet for a second, his tone was more defensive after. "It meant something to me, Harrie. We were together for years. You don't just forget that."

"I'm not saying you have to forget it, Jack. I'm saying you need to stop letting it affect you like this. I didn't want Quinn to find out that way. Hell, I didn't want him to find out at all because it didn't matter. That night was about closure for both of us. You know that."

"You don't get it. It's not just about that fucking night. It's about you and Quinn. It's weird, Harrie. You're my ex. He's my brother."

"Of course, it's weird!" Harrie shot back. "I get that, Jack. But you need to grow up. I didn't fall for Quinn to spite you! It just happened. We're happy, and I'm not going to apologize for that."

"Happy?" Jack scoffed. "He didn't look too happy last night when I told him what happened. You can't just erase the past, Harriet. You're always gonna be my ex, and he's always gonna know that."

Harrie wasn't backing down. "Yes, I'm your ex, Jack. But I'm Quinn's girlfriend now. I love him. And if you can't accept that--if you can't get over this--then it's going to tear your family apart. Is that what you want? For me to come between you and your brother?"

Silence.

"Because it that's really what it's going to do, I'll end things with Quinn. I don't want to hurt him, Jack. I am not about to be the reason you guys can't be civil. I'll walk away before it gets any worse. I care about him too much to tear you two apart."

"You'd end things with him? Just like that?"

"If I had to," she admitted, though her heart ached at the thought. "But I don't want to. I love him. I'm not going to apologize for that, and I'm not going to pretend like you're some ghost hanging over our relationship. You need to move on. I have."

Jack's voice softened. "I don't want you to end things with Quinn, Harriet. I don't. I guess... I just, I didn't realize how much it would mess with my head, picturing you with him."

"It's not about us anymore, Jack. You and I? We're in the past. Not coming back."

"Yeah, you're right. I just... I was pissed. I don't want you to tear my family apart either."

"Good. Then let this go. You have to, for Quinn's sake. He deserves better than this."

"I'll try, Harrie. I will. I didn't mean to blow up on him like that. I was... being really fucking stupid. I'll talk to him, okay?"

Harrie sighed in relief. "Good. Thank you, Jack."

Jack chuckled softly despite the awkwardness. "Guess I owe you one, huh?"

"You owe Quinn one," she corrected. "Just... be his brother. That's all he needs."

"Yeah, I'll work on that."

~~

Quinn was sitting on the dock. He'd been there for a while, just trying to process all the thoughts going through his head. Things were messy, and though he hadn't slept well, he hoped the new day would bring some clarity.

He knew Jack. He knew his brother wasn't really angry about Harrie... at least not deep down. Jack was just being Jack. Too prideful to admit when something hurt him.

He glanced back when he heard footsteps. Jack was walking toward him, hands stuffed in the pocket of his sweatshirt, looking more sober and less angry than the night before.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I talked to Harrie this morning. She kinda gave me a reality check."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Jack said, kicking at the end of the dock with his shoe. "She told me I need to grow up. And... she's right. I was an asshole last night. I shouldn't have said what I said." He paused, glancing at Quinn. "I'm sorry, man. I was pissed and drunk, but that doesn't make it okay. I shouldn't have gone off on you like that."

Quinn took a deep breath. He knew this apology was coming, but hearing it felt nice.

"I get it, Jack. It's weird. You're my brother, and she's your ex. I didn't want it to happen like this, but... I care about her. I really do."

Jack nodded. "Yeah, I know. I get it. I just... I didn't expect it, ya know? You and her. It threw me off." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. "But it's not like I'm still hung up on her or anything. I guess I just didn't handle the news well."

"You? Not handling something well? Shocker."

"Shut up," Jack laughed.

"I don't want this to come between us," Quinn said. "We're brothers. I don't care how complicated this is, I'm not losing you over it."

Jack shook his head. "You won't, man. I'm not that petty. And... I'm sorry again. I don't want you to feel like I'm some weird shadow hanging over your relationship. You deserve to be happy, and if Harriet makes you happy, then... I'm cool with it."

"Thanks, Jack. Means a lot."

Jack grinned, holding out his arms. "Come on, bring it in. Let's get this awkward shit outta the way."

Quinn laughed, getting up to pull Jack into a quick bro-hug. When they pulled back Jack gave Quinn a playful shove. "You know, you're lucky I didn't kick your ass last night. You had it coming."

Quinn snorted. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you need to tell yourself."

~~

Trevor, Jack, Cole, Luke, and Quinn were sprawled out on the couches, watching some dumb movie, half paying attention. The atmposphere was easy again, like then tension of the previous night had never happened.

"So," Trevor smirked. "Now that we're all sobber, I gotta ask--Qball, how the hell did you pull Harrie?"

Quinn blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Dude, she's like the hottest girl ever. You're a lucky man, Quinn. Seriously. I thought she was wayyyyyy out of your league."

The group erupted into laughter.

"Thanks, man. Real confidence boost," Quinn muttered, shaking his head.

"No, seriously," Trevor continued. "I've met a lot of girls, but Harrie? Total rocket. If you ever mess it up, I'm just saying..." He winked.

"Don't even think about it," Jack cut in with a mock glare. "Harrie's off-limits. For all of you. Except Q... I guess."

Trevor raised his beer, grinning. "Alright, here's to Quinn! The lucky bastard."

~~

Harrie was at her desk, scrolling through her work emails, trying to focus on her job. But her mind kept drifting back to Quinn and Jack. It was a relief to clear the air with Jack, but she was still worried about Quinn's reaction to everything.

Her phone buzzed, pulling all her attention away from her work.

Huggy <3: Check your email.

What was he up to? She opened her personal email, her heart skipping a beat when she saw an email for a flight confirmation. She clicked on it, scanning the details.

Quinn had bought her a ticket to Michigan.

She immediately called him. "Quinn! You got me a plane ticket?"

Quinn chuckled on the other end. "Yeah. I figured you should be here for the last few days of the trip. Besides, I miss you."

"But... what about Jack? I don't want to make things weird. Er, weirder. What if he's not okay with me being there?"

"Don't worry about Jack. I already talked to him. It's all good. He's cool with it. Actually, I think he wants you to come."

Harrie blinked, surprised. "Wh- really?"

"Really. So pack your bags, baby. You've got a flight to catch tomorrow."

"Okay. I'll see you soon," she squealed.

"I can't wait."

~~

Harrie rushed toward Quinn, but before she could say anything, he pulled her into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around her waist as he picked her up and spun her around, like he often did at home.

"You made it," he kissed her temple.

"Of course I did! You're not getting rid of me that easily."

A few hours later, they arrived at the dock where the rest of the guys were hanging out. Jack spotted them first, his eyes flickering to Harrie, and for a second his expression was unreadable. The he smiled, a genuine smile, and nodded toward them.

"Hey Harrie," he waved them over. "Glad you could make it."

She smiled back. "Thanks. Good to see you too, Jack."

They exchanged a quick hug, and when Harrie glanced up at Quinn, he was smiling brightly. No tension, no awkwardness. Jack had come to terms with it, and they could all move forward.

Jack watched Harrie and Quinn move around the house, spending time together, and laughing like they were in their own little world. It wasn't forced, but it also wasn't anything like the dynamic she and Jack had had once upon a time. They were different people now. They way Quinn looked at her--like she was the only person in the room--was something that Jack had never really felt when he and Harrie had been together.

It him then that he had just been a kid when he and Harrie dated. Sure, they'd had something good, but it was nothing like that. Harrie and Quinn were in love, and it was clear as day. And he wasn't going to stand in the way of that.

"You really are a lucky bastard," Jack clapped Quinn on the back. "But you already knew that, huh?"

Quinn laughed, his arm still slung over Harrie's shoulders. "Yeah, I know."

"For real though. I'm happy for you guys. Really, I mean it."

Harrie smiled softly, nodding in appreciation. "Thanks, Jack. Means a lot."

~~

Later that night, Harrie and Quinn were curled up in bed together, the cool breeze from the lake drifting through the cracked window. They'd been talking for hours, just enjoying each other's company.

Harrie was lying with her head on Quinn's chest, listening to his heartbeat while he absentmindedly ran his hand through her hair.

"You know," she whispered, "this trip was... perfect. I didn't think it would be. But it was. You, me, Jack--everything is like falling into place."

"I'm glad you're here."

They fell silent again. Quinn had been thinking about it ever since she'd said it on the phone... that she loved him. He hadn't been able to say it back then, but, lying there with her, knowing what they'd had to deal with, there was no doubt left in his mind.

"Harrie."

She lifted her head, resting her chin on his chest, her eyes half-lidded with sleep.

"Yeah?"

He took a deep breath. "I love you."

Her lips parted slightly in surprise, but slowly a smile broke across her face. "You do?"

Quinn nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah. I do. I love you."

Harrie leaned in, kissing him softly, her lips warm against his. "I love you too," she whispered.

They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other's arms, the weight of the world finally being lifted from their shoulders, knowing that they were exactly where they were meant to be.

[barcaatthemoon]

silence || lia walti x reader ||

lia doesn't think you'll come to her game while the two of you are fighting.

you hated the quiet, but you were stubborn. lia was mad at you for something, an old fight that was rehashed a few days ago. you didn't seem to get the message, so lia had left last night. there was no note, no call or text. lia packed up an overnight bag and made her way to leah's to get ready for the game. you didn't even know if lia wanted you to come, but you were going to anyway.

this game was big, and even if you weren't there for just lia, you'd go to support the friends you had made on the arsenal team. as a kid, you had played on the youth team, but eventually gave it up for a coaching career. you had spent years learning in america coaching a college team before you came back to london to take a position at a team a league down from arsenal.

you loved your job, occasionally too much. you put in way more time and effort than what was required of you to do so. lia wanted you to take a step back and relax a little, but you couldn't. that was probably the root of the fight, and regrettable things were said on both ends. neither you nor lia were innocent in this fight. you knew that you had to apologize, but you weren't sure if lia would feel the same way and that was where your apprehension came in.

it was easy enough to find your seat in the friends and family section. you always sat in the same place, generally next to the same people. since today was a big day, you found yourself sandwiched between katie's and alessia's mothers. you liked the two women, who definitely doted on you a little whenever they saw you.

sometimes, you'd sit with lia's family when they came down, but you doubted that they'd want to see you. lia had to have told someone what was going on, so you stayed in your seat. you tried to keep to your best behavior in order to not attract attention. you knew how lia could be after big fights, and the last thing you wanted to do was distract her with such a big game hanging over her head. to a lot of people, it was just another game, but you knew that a loss here would knock them out of any major tournament play chances.

"(y/n), lia said you weren't coming today." you hated how surprised alessia looked as she saw you. you rubbed the back of your neck as you awkwardly shifted your weight between your feet. "i thought you were out of town."

"is that what she told you?" you asked. alessia shook her head, but you didnt miss the guilty look on her face. "i should probably go. good job today less, that was a great goal."

you quickly shoved all of your things in your bag and tried to make a quick exit when you walked right into lia. she had her back to you, so she didn't notice who it was until you were speeding past her. the conversation with her parents was immediately cut short to chase after you, genuinely not having believed that you'd try to come see her play after the week of silence between the two of you.

lia knew that you hated not talking to her, but you wouldn't open up communication until she did. whether it was you being stubborn or just not knowing how, lia wasn't completely sure. she knew that you had a hard time opening up to anybody, and that sometimes it was easiest to give you space to work things out on your own. lia also knew that she had really hurt your feelings during your last argument, and that it was best if she didn't accidentally say something to make it worse.

"i'm really happy that you showed up," lia said as she grabbed onto your wrist. you stopped moving the moment that she touched you. "i missed you last night and this morning. are we okay?"

"yeah, i think so," you told her. lia let out a sigh of relief as she pulled you into a hug. you melted against her body, leaning heavily into her embrace. "will you come home tonight?"

"only if you're sure that you want me back. i am really sorry for what i said and for ignoring you. you'd never expect me to put my job on the backburner for you, and i can't expect you to do the same for me," lia apologized. after the week that you had, you easily would have done anything that lia wanted you to. luckily, she realized that you were living your dream the same way that she was.

"i'm sorry that i've been distant. i'll be better," you promised. lia smiled as she cupped your cheeks and leaned in to kiss you. you kissed her back eagerly, hoping to make up for all of the kisses that you had missed out on because of the fighting. "go back and celebrate with your team, i'll pick up something for dinner."

"no, come celebrate with us. i don't want to celebrate without you there too."

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 WICKED LOVE WILL LEAVE ME BLIND

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dangerous games are played between you and dazai during one of the most important events of the year for the japanese underworld. you're never this risky, not when your reputation is on the line, but fuck being near him just seems draw out all of the worst in you.

(wordcount: 4.5k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia member!reader, jealous!dazai, possessive!dazai, public sex, spitting, unprotected sex, gagging dazai w/your panties, switch!dazai, switch!reader. lmk if anything is missing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: WOOWWWWWWW u all can thank tumblr user mioblobby for this one, she sent in an ask 3 days ago and this consumed me so badly that i dropped all of my wips to write this. anyway, enjoy dazai & pmreader being absolute FREAKS in public

His gaze hasn’t left you once all night. You can feel it dark and heavy from where he’s leaning against a wall on the opposite side of the room, black coat hanging around his shoulders and a cold, unapproachable expression on his face, looking every bit the wraith people claim him to be. 

Chuuya is off somewhere to your side, smooth talking two of Mishima’s daughters, surely planning to end the night in one of their beds to get those loose lips moving about the meeting that their father had with Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber two weeks ago, something he’s been unnervingly tight lipped about when Mori pried. 

You’re entertaining two of the younger members of Mishima’s upper echelon, Abe Kimifusa and Ibuse Masuji—they can’t be much older than you, early twenties max, and they’re delighted by the attention you’re giving them. Ibuse is half hanging off your shoulders, arm wrapped around you, too many drinks in as he leans in close and laughs at some comment Abe makes about one of their fellow executives. You smile idly as you listen, resting against him as you take in their words, trying to pretend to be engaged with the conversation to not give away how you’re hyper-focused on a certain black-haired executive in the distance. 

Usually, he would join you and Chuuya in your attempts to gather some easy intel on the Sun and Steel—that’s what he’s done the past year and a half, at least, targeting some of the older members of Mishima’s upper echelon who would sell half of their organs and their soul for a night with the untouchable Demon Prodigy. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth now, knowing what he told you, but you still can’t help but be a little surprised that he’s not even trying to put up a facade of charm and wit, rather spending his time skulking in the shadows watching you, especially when his usual targets are so blatantly staring at him, waiting for him to make a move.

You think it’s hypocritical the way you’re so pleased over the fact that he’s not entertaining anyone tonight, because the thought of him letting any of those men drape themselves all over him like Ibuse currently is with you leaves a very sour taste in your mouth.

You also think that’s why you’re letting Ibuse take it as far as he has—to see Dazai get wound up about it. You don’t typically let people get touchy with you unless you plan on taking them to bed, and you have absolutely no intention of fucking Ibuse Masuji. He’s pretty enough with dark hair and a nice smile, but too stupid for your taste—maybe that’s a good thing though, if he’s already so loose-lipped now with only a few drinks in him, you can’t imagine how much he’d let slip in a post-orgasm induced haze.

You start to reconsider your decision on Ibuse, looking up at him contemplatively as he makes a snide comment about Kamatsu Sakyo—an older executive of the Sun and Steel, one of the ones you know have spent a night, or more, with Dazai, so your smile is a bit more genuine when you hear the way Ibuse drags him for being incompetent and useless.

“The older generation has to go,” Ibuse hisses, shaking his head as his arm tightens around you, leaning back against the wall. “They’re running us into the fucking ground. That fucker Kamatsu wants us to take that deal from the Red Chamber-”

“Masuji,” Abe warns, giving you a careful look, not as drunk as his companion. You raise your eyebrows at the comment from Ibuse, looking at him questioningly.

Ibuse waves off Abe haphazardly. “The Port Mafia did it right,” he says bluntly, taking another sip of his drink. “Wiped out the whole old regime after the previous boss died. That’s what the Boss should’ve done when he took over from his father. All of these old fucks need to drop dead.”

“The meeting with Xueqin went that poorly?” you ask casually, sure to keep the interest out of your tone as you look up at Ibuse.

“Don’t even get me started,” Ibuse scoffs. “That fucker wants-”

You’re careful to keep the irritation off your face when you hear the telltale sound of Mishima preparing to give his annual ‘thank you, fruitful alliances ahead!’ speech that always bores you to tears. Next to you, Ibuse sighs and pulls his arm off of you, pushing off the wall.

“We’ve gotta go up there with him. I’ll find you later?” he asks you, eyes a bit too hopeful, voice eager as he waits for your response.

“Definitely,” you say—the things you do for information.

With most of the attendees of the ball distracted by Mishima’s speech, you slip away to make your way over to the far corner where Dazai is waiting. Still, he tracks you—from the moment you make your subtle escape from the crowd until you’re standing right in front of him in the shadows where he’s lingering, his gaze remains trained on you, intense in a way that lets you know that he’s unhappy, if the way his jaw is tight didn’t.

“You’ve been having fun tonight,” he drawls, voice low as he looks down at you, arms folded across his chest.

“Is that what it seemed like?” you say lightly, taking a step closer, casting one last glance behind you to ensure that all eyes are pinned on Mishima before hooking your fingers into his belt loops to tug him closer to you. “At least I’m doing my job properly then.”

“It’s your job to let Mishima’s whore of an executive drape himself all over you?” Dazai tilts his head to the side, one hand sliding behind you to close the small distance between the two of you, leaving your chest pressed to his.

No, you let that drag on just because you could tell how irate Dazai was becoming over it, but Dazai doesn’t have to know that. So instead, you play coy.

“I have appearances to keep up,” you say, tilting your head up with a simpering smile, enjoying the way his gaze immediately darts down to your lips, lingering there before he has to forcibly drag it back up to your eyes. “You know that.”

“Yeah?” Dazai hums, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His gaze drifts above you. “Maybe I should be making more of an effort with appearances then, Kamatsu has had his eye on me all night.”

Your eye doesn’t twitch at his words, but your grip on his belt loops tightens. “You don’t want to play that game with me, Dazai,” you warn, keeping your voice deceptively mild.

“And why is that?” Dazai drawls, looking too smug for your liking as he looks down at you as if realizing how much his threat bothered you.

“Because I’ll win,” you say easily, fingers slipping from his belt loops to slide your hands up and down his sides before settling them on his slim hips, relishing in the way his lashes flutter at your touch. “You know that. It’s unlike you to pick losing battles.”

“I won’t lose,” Dazai says with a scoff, and you walk him backward until the back of his knees hit a chair, guiding him back to sit down in it as Mishima finally starts a long-winded speech that’s going to last at least twenty or thirty minutes.

You give Dazai another teasing smile as you stand in front of where he’s sitting, lifting your hand to his chin, tilting his face up toward you. You lean down, lips brushing his as you murmur, “You already have.”

“Have I?” Dazai asks, amused. He unconsciously leans forward to capture his lips with yours but you shift just out of reach before he can, raising your eyebrows pointedly at the annoyed look he gives you.

You make quick work of undoing his tie, slipping it from his neck before wrapping it loosely around your wrist, hyper aware of the way his gaze is trained sharply on your face, studying your every move. You bring your other hand back up to his face, cupping his cheek gently, and your breath catches as he leans into your touch, eye lidded as he looks up atwith you. He tilts his head to the side to press his lips against your palm, keeping eye contact as he lifts his hand to cover yours, shifting it so he can graze his lips against the pulse point on your wrist.

“You have,” you agree, grateful that your voice isn’t as breathless as you feel from the combined intensity of his gaze and his lips on your skin.

“How so?” Dazai looks entirely too smug, probably can feel the way your pulse is racing under his touch, and you itch to wipe the smugness right off of his face.

“I’m meeting Ibuse after this speech,” you tell him, now entirely too smug yourself as Dazai expression drops and goes icy, fingers stiffening from where his hand is still pressed over yours. “Need to get him to spill about the meeting with the Red Chamber, he already started getting into it before. If I get him alone, we’ll know everything we need.”

“Go ahead,” Dazai sounds deceptively calm, you’d almost believe he didn’t care if the look in his eye didn’t betray him, cold and promising bloodshed. “I’ll kill him.”

“You’ll start a war,” you say absently, the tips of your fingers brushing through his dark hair.

“I don’t care,” Dazai replies, and you know that he’s serious—it should worry you, he could throw all of your work with the Sun and Steel out the window in a split second, but instead you only find yourself giddy, tongue pressing behind your teeth and a smile curving at your lips as you look down at him.

“Careful, Dazai,” you breathe out, “almost sounds like you care.”

He does care, you know that and he knows that, but he refuses to admit it out loud. Refuses to put a label on anything between the two of you. You think it’s his way of maintaining some semblance of control over things; he thinks that if he actually admits what’s going on between the two of you, it’ll be a loss of control over himself that he can’t afford. 

As if threatening to start a gang war with the Mafia’s most important ally because you’re planning to sleep with someone for vital information isn’t a loss of control in itself. 

You also think it might have to do with the broken gasps he’d let out over the phone during the assassination plot on you a few weeks ago, when he thought that he’d miscalculated and they called his bluff, that they were going to get to you and no one was going to be able to get there in time to protect you. 

“Everything I never want to lose is always lost the moment I obtain it.”

You wonder, maybe, if he thinks that not making things official with you is his way of protecting both you and himself. 

But it’s fucking frustrating. It’s frustrating dealing with his hot and cold—days where he’s so clearly enamored with you, spending hours laid up with you admiring you while you do work, looking at you with eyes that should only be reserved for long time lovers, and then there are days where he can hardly bring himself to look at you, avoiding you at every given chance, cold and aloof. It’s frustrating, and it’s exhausting, you just want to be with him.

His eye darkens, jaw clicking at your words, but he doesn’t respond other than that.

You’re not sure what exactly compels you to take another step forward, you watch as his gaze tracks down to the low cut of your dress, as he shifts in his seat, legs spread, clearly withholding the urge to adjust himself in his pants. A dangerous thought crosses your mind, one that you know you should toss away because of where you are, how many people are just on the other side of the room, but you find your body moving before you can stop yourself.

You watch him inhale, gaze tracking down to where your hand has slipped into the high slit of your dress, casting one last look over your shoulder to make sure the two of you are at an angle that no one would be able to easily see you before pulling down your thin black panties—the ones you know he loves and wore just to see the way the pupil of his visible eye becomes blown wide at the sight of them, breath hitching.

You shift closer to him, balling them into your fist, one hand sliding behind the back of his head, fingers entwined with his dark hair as you tilt his head back, eyes tracing the exhilaration on his face as he looks up at you, realizing what you’re going to do, where you’re going to do it.

“You’re crazy,” he breathes out. The words are reverent, he speaks them in the same way you imagine he would tell you he loves you, it makes your breath catch. “Here? What're you gonna do if one of them looks over and sees you stuffed with my cock, hm? How're you gonna explain why you're full of cum when you go meet that clown?”

“You talk too much,” you note, stepping forward. “Open up.”

Dazai’s lips part instinctively, but before you stuff his mouth with your panties, you lean over him, fingers hooking around his bottom lip as you force his mouth a little wider, watching as his breath hitches and his lashes flutter when you spit right into his open mouth, swallowing it immediately. 

Your lips curl up as you lift the hand holding your panties, taking in an unsteady breath as he lets you push your panties between his lips; he lets out a muffled groan around them, eyes sliding shut as if savoring the taste of them. You shift your dress around slightly so you can comfortably straddle his thighs. His hands immediately fly to your waist, but you click your tongue lightly, pushing them off and sliding his tie around his wrists once you’ve got them behind his back.

He tilts his head to the side, giving you a heavy, judgmental look. He doesn’t even have to speak to know what he’s thinking: “You really think this is going to stop me?”

You give him a sweet smile, leaning in to graze your lips against his jaw, feeling the shaky breath he lets out around your panties. “If you free yourself from them,” you murmur, lips brushing his ear as you speak, “I’ll stop.”

You don’t wait for his reaction, directing your attention down toward his slacks, loosening his belt and unbuttoning his pants. You ease his cock out of his briefs, weight heavy in your hand, tip flushed pink and leaky. You give it an experimental pump, using his own precum as lube, and watch as he tilts his head back, giving a full body shudder.

“You’re so easy to rile up,” you sigh softly, shifting forward so that his cock slides between your slick folds, you press your lips to the underside of his jaw to smother the moan you almost let out when his tip catches on your clit. “I love it.”

You know he’s trying to shoot you a withering look, but the effects of it are severely diminished with how his face is flushed pink and his eyes are unfocused. You give him another saccharine smile, and that’s the only warning he gets before you’re sinking down on his cock. 

You can feel every inch of him stretching you open, filling you up until the tip of his cock is nudging right up against your cervix. It takes all of your self control to bite back the loud gasp that nearly rips from your lips, not wanting to have to bury your face in the crook of his neck just yet, watching as he lets out a choked noise that’s loud even with your panties stuffed in his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Careful,” you warn, leaning in to drag your lips up his neck to the corner of his lips. You lift one of your hands to hold the back of his head again, gripping his hair as you force him to look at you again, fingers tugging hard at his hair. His gaze is unfocused, lips parting as he heaves around your panties, throat spasming—he looks fucking divine, and for a moment, you regret doing this here because you might have to kill someone if they see him when he’s looking like this. “You don’t want them to see you like this, yeah?”

You can hear the whine that builds in the back of his throat, trying to rock his hips up into yours. The sloppy sound of his cock driving into your cunt is too loud—Mishima is still speaking loudly, drowning out any noise that could possibly be coming from your secluded corner, but it’s so risky, you almost don’t know what’s gotten into you. If anyone happens to wander over this way…

“God, what do you do to me?” you gasp, leaning in so you can graze your teeth against his neck, threatening to bite down. 

You’re never this reckless—not when it’s your reputation on the line, you’ve spent years honing it into the weapon it’s become, and here you are risking it all just because Dazai Osamu decided to give you bedroom eyes during one of the most important events the Port Mafia attends. Fuck, he drives you insane.

His head lolls forward, forehead resting against the side of yours, lips brushing your ear. You can feel his heavy pants, each one catching over a moan muffled by your panties. You rock your hips back and forth quickly, each drag of his cock against your walls making you hot and lightheaded. Whether it’s just from the sheer pleasure of it all—the way the tip of his cock pressees right into that sensitive spot deep inside of you, the way he’s so quickly coming undone beneath you, body trembling and drool pooling at the corner of his lips around your panties—or if it’s because of the way anyone could wander over in this direction, catch you fucking Dazai so brazenly when there’s a crowd of one hundred and fifty, two hundred of the most important people in the Japanese underworld just on the far side of the room, you don’t know, but heat pools in your abdomen so quickly that it’s almost impossible to control. 

You can feel his breath ragged, his body tense, each roll of your hips against his has Dazai falling apart, and you can feel the telltale sign of his cock twitching inside of you, signaling that he’s about to finish. You tug his hair, pulling his head back from where it's fallen against you, and you lift your other hand quickly up to his lips, pushing them inside of his mouth to hook your fingers around your panties, pulling them out of his mouth.

Instantly, Dazai is pushing himself forward to press his lips against yours, freeing himself of his own tie so his hands can fly to your waist. You let out a low moan into his mouth as he pushes his tongue into yours, one hand sliding from your waist to your back, keeping your body flush to his as he grinds you down on his cock hard.

“Fuck,” Dazai groans into your mouth, voice choked. You can see the way he can hardly keep his gaze steady, the way he’s gripping your dress to try to keep himself grounded. “I-ah, shit-I’m close. I’m-”

You lean in to swallow his moan, kissing him hard as his eyes roll to the back of his head, hips stuttering as he spills his cum deep inside of you. Your breath catches at the feeling of his cum filling you up, warm, heavy, so much of it that you can feel it dribbling out from where his cock is still stuffed deep inside of you; it’s the last thing you need to push you over the edge, mind blank and jaw falling slack as your body shudders in his arms.

Black dots spot your vision, your nails dragging down his black coat, your whole body consumed with pleasure—it hits you so hard that you think maybe you might’ve passed out for a split second. The feeling of your release sends a shockwave through Dazai, you can feel the way his body spasms and jerks when your walls suddenly tighten around his sensitive cock.

“God,” Dazai breathes out against your lips, eyes glazed over as the two of you come down from your high, an expression so adoring on his face that you think for a moment, you might be imagining it. “You’re so…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, leaves it to your imagination, and you want to press, but you don’t have the chance because you’re slapped hard with reality when you hear Mishima’s speech coming to an end, eyes widening. Your legs are shaky as you push off of him, hissing at the feeling of his softening cock slipping out of your cunt—you almost snort when you see how Dazai twitches and winces at the sudden movement, still sensitive.

“Clean yourself up,” you tell him sharply, straightening your dress and fixing your hair, trying to catch sight of yourself in the reflection of a nearby glass, watching from the corner of your eye as Dazai stuffs himself back in his pants, wiping your cum off of his expensive black slacks before sucking it right off of his fingers. He grabs his tie from where he’d let it fall to the ground, and then your panties, winking at you before he stuffs them in the pocket of his jacket. 

His gaze lifts to you as he rises to his feet, drifting lazily over your form, lingering on the way your skin glows with a soft sheen of sweat, the loose strands of hair that cling to your forehead—something you hope you can play off considering the air condition in the ballroom isn’t on. Then his gaze settles down on the lower half of your body, lips curling up into a slow smirk.

He takes a few steps closer to you, holding his tie out to you. “Re-tie it?” he hums, and you roll your eyes because you know he can do it himself and you know he has some sort of ulterior motive right now, but you take it from him regardless.

You quickly slide the tie around his neck, trying to tie it quickly before anyone catches sight of the two of you, but with you so focused on getting this done, you miss the way his hand sneaks forward until you feel it slip into the slit of your dress. 

“Dazai,” you warn, keeping your voice low, but your breath catches when you feel him gather up all of the cum that had dribbled out of your cunt, head falling against his shoulder as you try to force yourself not to react when he uses two fingers to stuff it right back inside of you.

You can feel the wicked grin against your ear as he leans down to tug your earlobe gently. “Good luck explaining this to Ibuse.”

Then he steps away, dark eye glittering dangerously as he looks down at you.

“I’ll find you later,” he says before turning to walk away.

You’re not sure if it’s a threat or a promise and you don’t have time to make a snide comment asking, because you hear Ibuse approaching you from behind, giddy and excited until he catches sight of Dazai’s infamous black coat retreating, swallowing thickly and eyes flickering nervously between the two of you—a common reaction to the executive’s presence, knowing how dangerous and unpredictable he can be.

You wonder if Dazai would make Ibuse half as nervous and uncomfortable if he’d known he just spent the last fifteen minutes with your panties stuffed in his mouth and his hands tied behind his back, whining and whimpering, muffling all of his sounds so people didn’t overhear the two of you. But you dismiss that thought—that’s knowledge for you to keep to yourself, you don’t like sharing.

“Let’s get out of here?” you hum, drawing him out of his thoughts before he can spiral.

He lights back up again, but you can tell he’s still nervous from Dazai’s brief appearance. “Yeah, c’mon.”

Two hours later, you wander out of one of the back rooms in Mishima’s mansion, intent on getting back to headquarters. You don’t get more than two feet before you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, tugging you backward hard until your back meets a familiar chest.

Your heartbeat stills from the brief bout of erraticness when you felt someone grab you, relaxing back into Dazai, tilting your head back and to the side to look up at him as he holds your hips, keeping you flush to him.

“Did you fuck him?” Dazai asks, voice low and expression unreadable.

You have half a mind to say yes, just to see what Dazai plans to do if you did. He can’t kill Ibuse, not even he is reckless enough to start a war with the Sun and Steel right now, but you don’t think you want to risk it.

“Didn’t have to,” you say honestly. “He was babbling out everything I wanted to know before the doors even closed.”

Dazai searches your face for a moment as if trying to decide if you’re being truthful, when he does, one of his hands slips off your waist into his coat, and you hear the familiar sound of Dazai flipping the safety of his gun back on.

“Dazai,” you snap. “You can’t just-”

“I can do whatever I want,” Dazai interrupts you with the type of confidence that lets you know he had every intention of putting a bullet through Ibuse’s head if you fucked him, regardless of the consequences. The thought of that alone makes your blood run hot, pupils dilating as you look up at him; Dazai’s lips curve up slowly as if he knows just what’s going on in your head. He looks behind you curiously before focusing back down on you asking: “Is he passed out in there?”

“Mhm,” you agree, watching him curiously as you try to figure out what he might be thinking. “Drank too much.”

“Good,” Dazai murmurs, walking you right back into the room you’d come out of, a sharp smile on his face. He closes the door behind the two of you, gaze flickering over to where Ibuse is unconscious on the couch before he backs you up until your knees hit the corner of the bed, pushing you back onto it. “Let’s see if we can wake him up then.”

[neo-nomatrix]

10 Things I hate about you

Hobie brown x reader

word count: 1120

(My) Nuisance masterlist

Synopsis: You have hated your neighbor for one year, 3 months, and 8 days. You hate his hair, his boots, his obnoxious music, and most of all you hate the way you love him

a/n; This is the last part of the main (My) Nuisance story! Other installments will be on parters about reader and Hobie before and after the main plot. Thank you to everyone who loves this story it means the world to me!

Being neighbors with Hobie has been one of the most frustrating, exhausting, and confusing experiences of your life. He has truly put you through hell and back.

1. I hate the way you talk to me and the way you do your hair.

If someone had told you one year ago you would be completely head of heels for Hobie you most likely would have laughed in their face. If someone had told you he was the man under Spider-punk's mask you would have jumped off a bridge right then and there. Yet here you are, searching your brain for answers about Hobie and his feelings wondering what you got yourself into.

2. I hate the way you lie to me and your stupid boot buckles.

The unbearable truth was, Hobie got to you. Most importantly he hurt you in the process. You weren’t supposed to get close to him, you weren’t supposed to fall in love with him but you did. He had completely forgotten about the night before and it hurt you more than anything. You genuinely thought he liked you, as luck would have it he confessed to you that he was a compulsive liar when he drank too much. Leading you into realizing he didn’t mean it, why would he? He seemed like the type who would flirt with you just as a fun game, you didn’t know what you were expecting.

3. I hate you so much it makes me mad, it makes my head spin, my stomach ties into knots, makes me weak in the legs.

Was that what this was? A sick joke? A game to him? Just thinking about that made you want to scream at him. Yell at him, tell him how angry you were with the fact that he played with your feelings. You wanted to scream at him and give him a piece of your mind. Yet you couldn’t. You have always been able to yell at Hobie, always. Even over dumb things like the way he talked. But now, it’s different. You wanted to get up and yell at him but you stayed sitting on the ground. Legs to your chest and you just sat there. Unable to move, frozen in that position.

4. I hate it when you’re out all night drinking and the way it makes me worry, worry so much that I stay up all night waiting to hear your stupid boots.

You hear a knock at the door and know it’s him. Of course it’s him, in your time living here he was the only person to ever knock on your door.

“Love? I- I want to talk to you. Can you let me in?” He asked, his voice quiet.

5. I hate your stupid smile and the way you purposefully play your guitar too loud just so i’ll come over.

He takes your silence as an answer, he’s about to say something and then pauses.

“When you were in my room you found a box. It had your stuff in it and a letter. I wrote the letter for you. You deserve to read it. I have your necklace and ring too, sorry bout that,” he gave you an awkward laugh.

“No, I shouldn't have even known about it,” you’re surprised you could even speak to him, “I don’t want to read it either,” you say quickly.

“You have a right to know what it says, okay? At least let me tell you.”

6. I hate that you were so easy to fall in love with.

A few seconds after he finished talking he turned the doorknob and walked into your flat.

“I don’t know what I said to you last night but I'm sorry. Whatever-“ you cut him off before he can finish.

“Don’t. I know you didn’t mean it so don’t. It doesn’t matter now I'm over it,” you brush him off.

“So uhm, what did i say exactly?” He questions

“I said it doesn’t matter, piss off!” you snap.

You both look away from each other, unable to speak.

7. I hate the way you hurt me and the way you made me get close to you. It would be so much easier to despise you if you weren’t so handsome.

“The letter talks about how much I love you, alright? Ever since the day we met and you gave me that stupid note I have been in love with you. You really don’t see the way I look at you? Or- or how I'm extra loud when I know you're trying to sleep? I would do anything just to look at you, that is how in love I am with you. I don’t know if you’re really just clueless or you’re trying to ignore the signs but I am pulling every string to try and make you fall in love with me. Is that what you want to hear?” He’s out of breath by the time he finishes. Tears are brewing in the corner of his eye.

8. I hate it when you say exactly what I want you to say.

“Yeah, actually it kind of is. You told me that it hurt when I didn't show up for our date. I thought you did like me, but then you said you lied when you were drunk. And I don't know why but I believed you,” You confess.

9. I hate it when we don’t talk and the way you make me feel. I hate that I didn't understand those stomach knots were me falling in love.

“No no no, I thought I said something that would upset you. Of course I meant that, Love,” he said, holding your face in his hands. The cold metal of his rings touching you.

“You mean that?” you ask.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything else,” he smiles. God that stupid smile.

“You also, kind of told me something else. You said you were uhm, Spiderman?” you nervously asked.

He visibly tensed up.

“Oh that, well I guess there’s no point in lying huh?”

“So you are?”

“Yeah, for the last three years. But I don’t believe in labels, they’re stupid,” he shrugs

“That’s pretty embarrassing for me then, hm?” you look around your spiderman themed room.

“Nah, I think it’s pretty cute,” he says, making you blush.

“Why don’t we start over? We can go out on a proper date, forget any of this happened. I promise, no standing each other up and we’ll be so happy,” He says, grinning ear to ear.

“Alright then, where should we go?”

10. You especially hate the way you don’t hate him at all. You don’t like him either. You love him. You’re in love with Hobie Brown, your nuisance.

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*If your user wasn’t tagged and showed up as just text it’s because you have something changed in settings

[bueckers-sturniolo]

the alchemy.

paige x fem!teammate! reader

word count: 2k!

warnings: uhhh, cursing? literally one suggestive-ish comment, if i think of anymore ill come back and lyk!

authors note: HIIII! this is my first time ever writing anything whatsoever, and i can’t tell if i genuinely enjoy or really hate this. you gotta start somewhere though, right? 🤔🤔🤔

go read part two here!

this happens once every few lifetimes; these chemicals hit me like white wine…

you and paige were inseparable. it didn’t go unnoticed by fans, not by any means. you were a year younger than paige, you started playing for uconn her sophomore year. as soon as this was announced, paige followed you on everything, immediately commenting on any post the uconn instagram page made about you, commenting something along the lines of just saying your name in all caps with a bunch of emojis, or even, when she was feeling bold, “Theres our girl! 🤩🙌 (or, ‘my girl’ if she was feeling silly that day),” and even on your own, individual posts about yourself, she’d like and comment some form of encouragement or a subtle compliment just to hype you up, as she does the rest of the team.

she couldn’t deny her nearly unbearable attraction toward the minute she first had laid eyes on you. even if it was over a tiny screen. the first time she saw you was when geno had shown the team videos of you playing and explained to them who you are, where you’re from, what position you play, and all other things they should know. you were around 5’10, and you were a point guard. you had gotten a scholarship to uconn, and obviously, you took it up. the first time paige physically saw you play, she knew you two would become close. not only working together on the court, during games and practices, but also, off of the court.

and you guys did. by the time the season started, you were sure you guys were unstoppable. every practice, you guys were fully locked in, becoming an outstanding duo together. that is, until, she got a tibial plateau fracture. she sat out a whopping 19 games after her surgery, and it was sad to see. she was such a powerful player, and now one of your best friends. games and practices didn’t feel nearly as good without her, but she made you promise that you’d work everyday to improve your already very strong talent, to play for ‘the both of you,’ as she said. she’d come to practices, games, and even just to your personal training sessions to provide some form of support.

what if I told you I’m back? the hospital was a drag, worst sleep that I ever had, I circled you on a map; I havent come around in so long, but im coming back so strong.

as soon as paige was cleared by doctors to begin playing again, she worked several hours, every single day. she came back as a fucking beast. since the day she got cleared and started working her ass off, she earned the nickname ‘sniper’ from you. your nickname for her was ‘killer,’ which, is kinda where she got the idea for sniper. you both were very powerful point guards. every day since she came back, you were amazed by just how hard she was working to get back up to her already impressive level of skill. and as time went on, she got even better than before. from the wise words of your guys’ coach, geno, she literally ‘came back better than she was when she was named player of the year.’

so when I touch down, call the amateurs and cut ‘em from the team, ditch the clowns, get the crown. baby, im the one to beat. cause the sign on your heart said it’s still reserved for me. honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

one night, after a practice, you guys are sitting on your couch, scrolling on your phones in the living room of your apartment. she was over there often. you didn’t live in a dorm, but she did, so this is where you typically hung out. you didn’t get a dorm, for mainly one reason, living on campus is expensive. you personally thought that if you were gonna pay so much to live somewhere, might as well be somewhere bigger than the dorms at uconn. your parents somehow agreed, and helped you through paying for it your first few years. you’re now a junior, and paige is a senior. though, she was technically going into her junior year of playing basketball, but it was her last year as a uconn ‘student.’ over the past several months, it’s been…. flirty, to say the least. you’ve always been not ‘just friends,’ but, you never talked about it. it was just ‘normal’ to you guys. you had talked about to kk once, and the conversation didn’t really help. at all. not in the fucking slightest.

“well, i mean… yeah, we all notice it. she just…. acts so different around you…? it’s not a bad difference, per se… it’s just like, why the fuck is she so nice to you? she’s constantly like… on her knees praising you. it’s crazy, lowkey. but none of us wanna say that, so we kinda just have accepted it all season.” kk says, finally looking up from her phone at me, sitting on the edge of her bed, giving her a ‘please help me’ look.

i stare at her for a few seconds, then sigh. is it actually different? does she really do that, or is kk just exaggerating, like she always does?

“kk, i don’t- i don’t know, dude. i don’t notice it. it’s just- like-“ kk interrupts me, knowing i couldn’t find the words to explain what i was feeling, “normal to you?”

i nod, putting my face in my hands and letting out another sigh. “yeah, i get that. but, also… like, how do you not notice it? it’s like- remember that guy she said she had a crush on, like- 7 months ago or some shit?” she said, sighing.

“yeah, why?” i say, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion on where the fuck she could possibly be going with this.

“she literally flirted with you more than she flirted with him. then, she rejected him, and said there was ‘no reason behind it….’ is that not suspiscious to you? in that one picture of you guys and the weird ass dude she apparently liked, she’s leaning closer to you than she is him? does that not even slightly spark a tad bit of suspiscion?” kk says, getting frustrated that im not seeing her point here.

“i mean- no? i didn’t even notice it, kk.” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “exactly my point,” kk says, sitting up to really try to get her point across. “she acts like she’s in love with you, and heaven forbid you notice it even slightly. i could name so many things that just, like- we have all noticed, and paige knows we’ve noticed. like, that time that one bitch was pushing you on the court the entire game, and paige eventually got pissed off and pushed her back off of you, then got a fucking technical foul over it…? or, how about when she gets drunk, she literally is all over you. like, hugging you, holding you, falling asleep on the couch with you literally on top of her? is that not somehow making you just use that little brain in your head?” kk says, and i just stare in thought. maybe she was right. maybe it is more than a close friendship.

you snap out of your thoughts as paige says your name, looking over at her. “yeah?” you say, trying to seem cool.

“are you okay? you just spaced out for like…. 10 minutes…” paige says, turning her phone off sitting her it down on her chest. “oh, yeah,” I say, chuckling. that’s fucking embarrassing, you thought. but why wouldn’t she notice it? she notices everything about you.

“y’know… you did really good today,” paige says smiling at you. you smile too, looking down at your hands, “thanks. you literally always do good, so. no point in boosting your ego any more than it already is.” you say, looking back up to meet her gaze.

“i call you killer for a reason, you know that, right? you’re fucking phenomenal.” and she meant it. you were a goddess, in her eyes. if there was any person closest to heaven on this earth. it’s you. everything about you. she couldn’t get enough of you, and if it was up to her, she’d show you just how perfect you are to her. you smile, shaking your head in disbelief. “you’re insane.”

“im literally complimenting you, idiot- how does this make me insane,” paige says, laughing. you shrug, shaking your head. “you know, you’re my bestfriend, right? like, the best, best-friend i’ve ever had? ” paige says, after a few seconds of silence. you look back up, your gaze softening, your big grin also softening into a sweet smile. kk was right, you thought. you knew what that was. you knew what she meant. she is in love.

hey, you. what if I told you we’re cool? that child’s play back in school is forgiven under my rule. i havent come around in so long, but I’m making a come-back to where I belong.

you sit in your room in silence, staring at the ceiling. you keep replaying things in your mind, things she’s said. things she’s done. you knew you liked girls, you knew you liked paige. but, at what cost? did your whole friendship form from the attraction you guys had from the start? was this random to her? were you guys ever going to talk about it? this whole situation is ridiculous. right now, paige is visiting her family in minnesota. you’ve met them before, and you loved her little brother, drew, like your own brother. he was precious to you. but, this time you didn’t go, you had to stay back and practice. which, sounds ridiculous to paige given that you’re already the best player in the world to her. but, you knew you’d been slacking on practicing and certain skills you were supposed to be good at. you didn’t want to let her down. or the team, of course. but, paige specifically.

these bloakes warm the benches, we’ve been on a winning streak. (s)he jokes that it’s heroin but this time with an ‘e.’

today, you guys had a game. you were always pretty hard on yourself, but, today was worse. paige noticed this, quickly. as she always does. right before halftime, you shoot a three. you make it, but, it still was kinda sloppy. not all of your shots were sloppy, of course. but, today you felt like shit and were on your period. you didn’t feel great, and you were pissed off that the girl guarding you was on your ass all damn game. the girl in question was no other than kate martin, who was always on your ass specifically, when you guys played iowa. it was infuriating, and not to mention that you kept getting fouls called on you by a ref who clearly doesn’t realize that kate won’t stay off of your case. as soon as half-time hits, you walk over to the bench, muttering a ‘holy fucking shit’ under your breath. you sit down, paige immediately following after you, sitting beside you.

“hey, killer…. it’s okay, i promise. you’re doing so, so good.” paige says, leaning closer to you trying to reassure you in a soft, gentle tone.

“doesnt feel like it.” you say, grumpily, grabbing your water and taking a drink of it. “i know, but hey,” she says, smiling. “you’re fuckin’ killing it. if it makes you feel any better, you scored and knocked her down because of how close she was to you, maybe she’ll back off. but…” she says, pausing. “do not get a tech because of her.” you look over at her, slowly nodding. “yeah, im trying. but, the next time she gets in my face, i’m knocking her to the fucking ground again.” you say, quietly. paige smiles, “no being too aggressive… i mean, yes, be aggressive. but, no techs.”

“yeah, yeah. okay, idiot face. i’ll try.” you say and paige smiles wider, shaking her head.

as the game continues, we’re up by a solid two points. youre now in the last 45 seconds of the game. iowa has the ball, clark scores a 3 on paige. of fucking course, you think.

kk gets the rebound, and we get the ball, finally. with now only 30 seconds left, you’re panicking. you’re losing by one damn point. geno calls a time out out to the ref, the ref granting him this and you all huddle over. paige leans over to you, mumbling a, “you’ve got this, killer. im leaving this up to you. you won’t let me down.” you smile, nodding. she smiles at you for a few seconds. she is so whipped, and it’s obvious. you’re addicting. you’re like heroin, but with a fucking ‘e,’ paige thinks.

shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads. beer sticking to the floor, cheers chanted, cause they said, “there was no chance, tryna be the greatest in the league.” where’s the trophy? (s)he just comes runnin’ over to me.

as the game resumes, the ball is passed to paige. 15 seconds. the time is ticking, so, so fast. paige does a pump fake, immediately passing the ball to you. you catch it, turning slightly so you can dribble around martin, who’s still on your ass. you nearly lose the ball. you’re wasting too much time time, you think. you glance up at the clock. 5 seconds. you try to think fast, then quickly preform a fake pass to paige, then as soon as kate turns her attention toward paige, you shoot directly behind the point the three-point line, and you make it. the buzzer sounds. you look over at the score counters, wondering if it’s able to be counted. they announce it is, and you feel like you’ve never been happier than in that damn moment. your entire team is screaming, all of the fans in the bleachers standing up and cheering. you place your hands on your knees, leaning down and panting while smiling. that’s when you see paige, her shirt is lifted up so her stomach is showing, still cheering. smiling ear to ear, she suddenly runs over to you from across the court. she hugs you, picking you up and spinning you around.

this type of shit only happens once every few lifetimes. who are you to deny your love for her any longer? who are you to fight the general chemistry between you two? who are you to fight the alchemy?

a/n: RAHHHHHH I HOPE YOU LOVED IT IM SORRY IF IT SUCKS ASS!!!! IF YOURE READING THIS RN I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

[paigebuckets6]

Yearning Allegations

Part: 1

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

Genre: Friends to lovers slowburn (Series)

Synopsis: You've liked Paige for the longest time. Is there any chance she likes you too?

Paige Bueckers was your best friend.

She was also one of the most popular players on the Uconn Huskies.

Although many loved her, none of them knew her like you did. Most certainly, none of them loved her like you did.

You had known her since the first year of high school, where you two hit it off in English class, teasing her about how slowly she read. She had just shot some stupid comment back at you, and from then on, you two were inseparable - which is why you were sitting courtside at this very moment, happily watching her play.

"And that's time, another win for Uconn!!"

The announcer shouted loud as Paige threw the basketball at the last second, arcing perfectly into the net. She beamed wide as she turned around, her cheeks pink with pride, scanning the crowd for you. Her eyes seemed to shine a little brighter, or so you thought, upon landing on you.

She grinned in your direction, nodding slightly at you, as she ran past you to congratulate her teammates. They tackled her, nearly knocking her over. The crowd's roar was racious in your ears, their shouts nearly as loud as yours. Uconn had won again. You smiled to yourself, Paige was gonna be absolutely insufferable after this. She always was after games like these.

You waited patiently outside the change rooms, scrolling mindlessly on tiktok, waiting for Paige to finish up. Usually, she stayed a few extra minutes afterward, yapping with the team about whatever, and then would come out with KK, jokingly bickering about some nonsense. You hadn't been waiting more than 5 minutes when Paige came bounding out alone, grinning proudly. You grinned back, amused. She was like a 6 ft tall puppy.

"Yooo y/n, did you see me out there??!" Paige threw her arm around you as you guys started the familiar walk to her dorm. After wins, she'd refuse to let you get any work done so you didn't even bother going back to your dorm at this point.

"Yeah, I saw!!" You say, unable to stop yourself from smiling back. Paige's smile was genuinely infectious.

"Dude, I'm the best hooper at Uconn for reallll hahah." Her laughter echos around the hallway.

You roll your eyes and pat the hand she has draped over your shoulder.

"Ehhhh, I think you're alright"

Paige scoffs at you, eyebrows raised.

"Come on, just alright?? You love me, don't lie. " Her eyes are alight with happiness and you fight the corners of your mouth, looking away.

"That play at the end was eh, I've seen better"

Paige rolls her eyes, scoffing yet again before holding the door open for you, leaning against it.

"You're a terrible liar y/n"

Before you can reply, Paige ruffles your hair, and you bat her hand away, complaining. She grabs your hand, and you bodycheck her, but to no avail, cause she takes off running to her dorm just to annoy you on purpose. But you laugh anyway, cause it's so typical Paige.

---

It's only a few days later when you find yourself at an infamous Uconn house party, and the alcohol in your system is making your cheeks feel warm. Your red solo cup of vodka is half empty, and you peer at it, wondering if you should leave your comfy spot on the kitchen counter.

You're admiring Paige from across the room, watching her talk to some fans.

She looks hot as hell tonight, dressed in a black cropped tank top and low waisted baggy black cargo pants. Her middriff is on display, and a tiny bit of her boxers peak out. For a second you wonder about what'd it feel like to put your hands there but you force yourself to stop thinking about her, nails digging into your palms as you take another sip of your drink.

Your feelings for Paige had only intensified over the years, becoming harder and harder to ignore as you two got older. In high school, you could just explain it all away because she was your best friend, but now? You guys had only become closer since starting at Uconn, and these days resisting the urge to make a move was becoming nearly unbearable, especially with the looming fact that everyone and their mother wanted Paige.

Normally, you'd just go over to her and yap her ear off, but the amount of alcohol you've had tonight makes you feel like being around her might be a bit dangerous.

So instead, you just stare from afar, watching her put her arm around the girl who's exclaiming she's "her biggest fan." You roll your eyes, inner monologue already snarkly thinking that Paige gets told that at least once a day.

You're so engrossed in watching Paige take pictures- she's now laughing with the fan over some stupid joke- that you don't notice KK's slid over to you.

"Damn girl, you really ain't beating the yearning allegations huh"

Her voice shocks you out of your reverie, and you glance over at her.

"Huh!?? What do you mean-"

KK's eyes are knowing, and she just raises one brow as she pours herself a new drink.

"Boo, we all see the way you look at her"

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. Although you're pretty sure the whole team already knows how you feel, you still refuse to admit it cause what if that got back to Paige? You want her, but not more than your friendship. You could never forgive yourself if something happened to you two. You resist the urge to do anything about how you feel solely to protect your friendship.. but also because you're scared. What if she doesn't like you like that? It'd probably just make everything awkward anyway.

"I don't know what you're talking about- Paige's just my friend." You keep your voice steady, but your expression darkens as you see the girl is STILL talking to Paige, her hand lingering on Paige's waist as she draws back from a hug.

"Uh huh.. whatever you say, " KK says, leaving the kitchen with her refill.

A few minutes later, you're busy answering some texts when Paige comes over.

"Hey, KK told me you're being all edgy and hiding out in the kitchen instead of having fun at the party. You're scaring off the hoes, dude. "

Paige is always more affectionate than normal when she's drunk, and tonight is no different. She places her hand on your thigh, grinning as she peers at your face, and you look at her for a few seconds before you move off the counter to stand.

"I'm not hiding, I was dancing a bit ago I just got tired-" This is technically not a lie, considering you did dance for a few minutes before deciding to become the next Joe Goldberg.

"Rightttt..." Paige towers over you, an annoying fact that hasn't changed since high school.

You're about to reply with some smart ass answer when some girl walks into the kitchen, cup in hand, her jaw dropping open as she spots Paige.

"Oh my God, Paige Bueckers?!?" The girl's voice raises practically 3 octaves, and you feel so annoyed you resist the urge to just sigh at the sight.

"I love you so much! I was watching you the other day - that final score was so good you really clutched the game-" The girl gushes, her hand resting on Paige's arm. Paige is, of course, grinning broadly. She loves the attention - and you can practically feel a headache coming on from the sound of the girl's voice.

"My head hurts real bad, gonna go back to my dorm-" You murmur as you pass Paige to leave.

"Oh, are you okay?" Her attention is momentarily distracted by your leave, and you try to inject some pep into your voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

---

Authors Note: Hope yall don't mind a slowburn! Thought it'd be cute to make a short series <3

Trilogy: Part 2 here / Part 3 here

[crguang]

wasted with longing

You and Kafka have a simple, superficial relationship that benefits you both. You should have known that nothing is ever simple when she’s involved.

friends with benefits, smut, afab!reader, gp!kafka, vaginal penetration, blowjob, dom!kafka, 4.5k words

A/N: fuckboy kafka is real and we should all be running… towards her🤣 this will be a series! i’ll fine tune it when i wake up but this is for my very excited anons and mutuals <3

part two

this is the collective playlist, i’m still adding songs as i go: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4fNHJsbeJLC49Fa8ACVOwW?si=pgaCSUzVTgmXZ8OuQJWLKA&pi=u-9uwba0QiQlWH

You push open the door to your apartment with a tired sigh and step inside. Freeing your feet from the new boots you bought days before feels heavenly, you’re still breaking them in and the process is almost torturous, often leaving you sore by the evening. You put on the slippers you discarded that morning as you shrug off your jacket, placing it back into the tiny closet near the front door. The lights are off but you don’t bother turning them on, instead, you make a beeline for your bedroom and flick that switch on. It’s late, around 11 PM, and you’re itching for a shower before collapsing into bed after spending the afternoon on your feet. You open the window a crack to let the breeze in, seeing as the summer nights tend to leave you sweating. You discard some of your clothing on the way to the bathroom, holding onto them to throw them in the laundry basket next to the sink. Standing in your underwear, you turn on the shower and adjust its settings to room temperature before removing your clothes. You’re grateful for the peaceful moment when you step into the shower, simply letting the water hit your face and soak your body.

Today was particularly challenging; your boss was a jerk your whole shift, more demanding than usual, and you’d promised some friends that you would go out with them after work even though you just wanted to be home by then. Forcing yourself to socialize is mentally taxing and often leaves you with a headache at the end of the night, too. Under the refreshing water, you feel the knots of your muscles loosen slowly as if smoothed out by warm, gentle hands. Your head tilts towards the shower head. For a few minutes, you wash away the weight of the day, focusing on the pitter-patter in your ears deafening you to all but your thoughts. An impulsive one passes by, meant to be fleeting but it solidifies in your head until you can’t help but entertain the idea.

You wonder what Kafka is doing, if she’d come running if you called the way she often does once the sun sets. She’s been busy lately, you think; you haven’t heard from her in around two weeks and you’ve been too preoccupied with work to bother checking on her. You don’t know what she does for a living, only that your palms brush against new cuts across her skin every once in a while. The acknowledgment of their presence goes unsaid like many other things, locked in a messy closet to which you both hold the key yet refuse to organize. Still, she’s skilled in the ways of your body and works you out like no one else can, so you ignore a lot about her to prioritize how relaxed you feel after a couple of hours with her. Some parts of you, your heart and fingertips, twitch to understand her absences and inconsistencies. You try not to dwell on that confusing desire for too long lest you come to a conclusion you don’t like. Kafka’s enigmatic, she’s mysterious and rehearsed as to always keep the upper hand in whatever war she’s implicated in like the world is an open minefield and she can’t afford a single misstep. Every semblance of genuine conversation about her turns into a game she has to win and you’re getting tired of playing along. However… you have to admit that you could use the distraction tonight.

The thought doesn’t leave you as you finish washing yourself and step out of the shower with a clean towel around your frame. You look for your phone once in the bedroom, picking it up from where it was discarded on your dresser, then sit at the edge of your bed. It takes a bit of scrolling through your recent conversations to find Kafka’s contact. You refrain yourself from rolling your eyes at the last texts you’ve exchanged. She can’t be relied on for your impromptu needs and you wish the opposite was true as well, but you’ve learned to make yourself available whenever she seeks you out. It’s pathetic, you tell yourself, even as your thumbs hover over the screen’s keyboard. You recline on the mattress with a sigh and hold your phone above you, wondering if you should do this. It’s late, and though that’s usually when you see each other, Kafka has the habit of not replying until hours later. It’s irritating, especially when you scroll up to her last messages and notice how quickly you always answer them. You toss your phone on the bed and cover your face with your hands. You swallow a scream.

“Embarrassing, embarrassing,” you mutter to yourself, “no dignity at all.”

As you question your life choices and consider blocking Kafka’s number to make yourself feel more in control than you are, your phone buzzes with a notification. You turn on your stomach to pick it up, tapping open the screen.

You stare at the most recent text for almost a full minute before closing the device and sitting up straight. The coincidence of her messaging you while you’re debating whether you should text her first leaves you reeling for a moment. You hesitate, fiddling with the phone in your hands. You want to leave her waiting like she often does to you, but… Excitement creeps up your spine at the thought of seeing her. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Why not take what you need from her and send her on her way? This is what she’s good for, it’s how she regards you as well, so you give in to your impulses and craft the perfect text. Kafka’s reply comes almost instantly.

You can’t deny the flutter in your gut but you sure as hell can ignore it.

You make sure to be ready before Kafka comes knocking at your door. You lather yourself with your favourite lotion before pulling a tank top over your head and putting on pyjama shorts. You clean up around your apartment even if she never lingers long enough to get a good look at it, picking up dirty laundry and clearing the dishes. You don’t see the minutes tick by as you do your best to seem presentable. You check your teeth in the bathroom mirror, decide to brush them because you don’t have any mint, then tap your cheeks a couple of times, tilting your chin this way and that. You’re looking at your nails, wondering if you should clip them since they’re getting a bit long, when the doorbell rings.

You take measured steps towards the front door so as not to look too eager and shake your head at your antics. You turn the handle, revealing Kafka’s nonchalant expression on the other side of the door. She smiles at the sight of you, clad in her usual tight clothes and custom-made coat, and you have to suppress one from betraying your thoughts as you take her in. She does the same to you, gaze appreciatively raking over your figure before she even greets you. She still has makeup on, hiding the fatigue you know rests under her eyes, and she’s holding on to her pair of gloves instead of wearing them. You think she probably wrapped up whatever it is that she does and came to your apartment right afterwards.

You open the door wider and step to the side so she can come in. “You look tired.”

Kafka walks in and closes the door behind her with a foot. Her smile widens a touch, a self-assured edge to it. Her head tilts— you watch the loose strands of hair follow the movement— and her eyes drop to your chest for a deliberate second then lift to meet yours. “You look beautiful as ever.”

You don’t hide the annoyed roll of your eyes. You turn your back on her to lead her further into the apartment. She follows, slipping off her coat from her shoulders and discarding it on a sofa in the living room.

“You got rid of the painting?”

You look at where she stopped in front of the couch. She points to the far wall with her chin as she lays her gloves on top of her coat. You stand, dumbfounded. You used to have an abstract painting hung on that wall but stored it to install a TV instead. You’re mostly surprised she noticed; her lips are usually on yours instants after she’s stepped through the door.

“It’s here somewhere,” you gesture vaguely to the room.

“Mm… This coffee table’s different, too.”

“You broke the glass of the other one the last time you were here.”

Something in the way she glances at you, a cocky glint in her eyes, tells you she remembers.

“Right. What was it you said that night— ‘Don’t you dare stop?’”

You know Kafka revels in the flash of irritation that creases the bridge of your nose.

“I don’t remember that.”

“No?”

She makes her way to you, fingertips trailing on the back of the couch and amusement shining through her contacts, dusty pink swallowing the lilac at their edges, reminding you of carefully plucked calla lilies. Her slender fingers cup your jaw to tilt your chin, the nail of her index sliding across your skin, and you meet her stare with practiced ease. You hate how easily the anticipation of her touch heats the embers in your belly and you can’t stand knowing that she’s aware of her effect on you. Kafka brings you closer until all you care to see is the lustful, rosy shades of her irises. Her gaze lowers to the curves of your mouth.

“Need a reminder?” Her murmur is felt on your lips like the warm, inviting breeze wafting through the open windows.

You hook a finger under the waistband of her shorts and tug her forward. “Guess so.”

Her low chuckle is cut off by the kiss you plant on her lips. Kafka indulges your control over her, lets you back her up against the wall and pull her close with a hand around her neck. Her arm snakes around your waist, your body pressed to hers. She tastes sweet, like a sugary drink or a juicy fruit, and your tongue slips into her mouth to taste her fully. She welcomes it readily and allows it to swirl around hers before you feel her fingers curl around your throat. The pace shifts, hungry and hurried, as she effortlessly takes over the kiss, momentarily taking your breath away. You’re forced to follow her lead and exhale through your nose when she doesn’t release you. The hand on the back of her neck travels down her collarbone, pulling on the leather strap of her outfit so it slaps against her once you let go, and the hum that sounds from her throat softens your bones until you’re putty in her hands. Her shirt crumples in your grip while your fingertips tease the buttons of her shorts. Your world is reduced to the soft caress of her tongue in your mouth and the growing bulge beneath your palm.

Her hold on your neck relaxes slightly and you pull away enough to regulate your breathing. You stroke her over her clothes, drawing a sharp intake of breath from her. A pleased smile makes its way onto your face and your eyes blink open to stare at her swollen, peach lips.

“Someone’s happy to see me.”

Kafka traces the hollow of your throat with a rounded nail, smiling amusedly at your teasing tone. “Mmm.”

“Two weeks and a little kiss gets you worked up?”

“Were you counting?”

“Please. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” You unclasp the buttons of her shorts and pull them down her waist to reveal the band of her pantyhose, toying with it and sighing in faux exasperation. “I suppose I could help.”

“Yeah?”

Kafka stares at you, anticipation in the way her lips unconsciously part, and you retain her lustful gaze as you withdraw from her body to put your hair up using the hair tie on your wrist. You raise a playful eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth, and her eyes narrow a touch at your cockiness. She doesn’t say a word, though, simply watches you lower yourself to your knees with that smile that says she’ll wipe that expression off your face soon enough. You start with her thigh-high boot, zipping it down to get it out of the way, then grip the edges of both her pantyhose and shorts to slide them off the rest of the way at once. Her layers annoy you on nights when your need is greater than your patience, but you enjoy teasing her like this; testing the elasticity of her boxers’ waistband, running the pads of your fingers over the thin fabric and along the thick of her bulge, pressing leisure, open-mouthed kisses on the soft flesh of her inner thighs. Kafka is a patient woman, her hand tangles in your hair but doesn’t pull. Her heavy stare makes you feel powerful despite being the one on your knees, she either doesn’t bother to hide her desire or she can’t— regardless, you’re her only way towards sweet release and she has no choice but to grant your petty wishes.

Your lips trace the outline of her length over her underwear. One hand cups her between her legs while the other kneads her plush thigh. You delight in the little hums Kafka doesn’t care to contain as you pepper kisses on her clothed cock, a thumb gently massaging her balls until you feel her twitch under your lips. Still, she doesn’t tell you to hurry along or pressure you in any way. Knowing that her cool demeanor is an act fuels the satisfaction in your gut. You pull at her boxers and free her hard cock, refraining from biting your lip at the sight of its prominent vein. You follow its pattern with your mouth and use a hand to curl around her base, eyes fluttering shut. You’ve done this so often, licked long stripes up to her tip and stroked her sensitive skin with teasing touches, that the feel of her against you is engraved in your gray matter. Your tongue swirls around her leaking tip to collect her pre-cum before taking her into your mouth. Kafka is so big you have to use your fingers to stroke what can’t fit past your lips. The weight of her cock on your tongue makes you so incredibly wet, you feel arousal trickling down your inner thigh. Her hips buck forward and her hand caresses your hair in a manner so fond you’d mistake her lust for care if you didn’t know any better. You work her up with quiet, muffled moans around her dick and she guides you down her length with one hand, unable to tear her eyes from your pretty face as you suck her off. You take as much of her as you can, feel the head brushing the back of your throat every few thrusts of her hips, and revel in the short, throaty moans spilling from Kafka’s lips.

“Mmhh… How pretty you look with your mouth full,” she manages to tease you in between low gasps, smugness dripping from her words. You give her sensitive tip a particularly harsh suck and bask in the uncontrolled jerk of her hips.

You look up at the crease between her brows and the rapid rise of her chest, her audible pants intoxicating you. With her head tilted to gaze down at you, strands of magenta hang in the air like threads of silk. You squeeze her base once to draw a longer moan from her. The taste of her bypasses your every thought, and you can only focus on her throbbing, wet cock filling your mouth. You stroke her with the same hungry pace, occasionally squeezing your thighs together to appease the heat between your legs. She’s so hard, so needy, you can’t help the indignant whine that escapes you when her fingers grip your hair and pull you away from her dick. A thin string of saliva connects her head to your tongue and breaks with the distance, falling onto your chin.

“Don’t pout, you’ll get your fill,” Kafka smiles despite her heavy breathing, urging you to stand with her hold on your head, “I’ll make sure of it.”

A tinge of irritation surges in your bloodstream at the cocky edge of her tone and the way your pussy aches for her touch. Her nose brushes yours once you’re on your feet, warm breath fanning over your lips. You hate that you want her, that your body responds to her by melting into hers as she steals the air in your lungs with a single heady kiss. You hate the way your thighs part almost immediately to allow her wandering hand better access to your cunt. You hate the amused chuckle that leaves her when she realizes you’re not wearing any underwear and rubs between your slit with a finger. And yet, you only get wetter under her ministrations, brows twisting with the pleasure she’s giving you. Her digit withdraws from your slick pussy, glimmering with your arousal, and Kafka stares at you with lidded eyes as she brings it to her lips to suck it clean. The wet sound of her mouth sends a jolt straight to your core. You need her to fuck you so badly, you can barely think before grasping the leather strap under her collarbones to pull her forward.

Your lips meet in a messy, heated kiss, her salty taste on your tongue and your slick on hers. You stumble down the hallway, losing pieces of clothing along the way, until you reach the bedroom and Kafka firmly pushes you down onto the bed with a hand on your bare chest. Her mouth is locked with yours and you feel her touch on your hips, across your waist, over your ribcage where your heart drums for her. Her thumb applies pressure on your erect nipple, drawing a needy sigh from you. You sneak around her chest to unclasp her bra and she assists you in sliding it off her arms to discard it on the floor. Her cock presses against your thigh while she teases your nipple between two fingers. You know you’re ruining the sheets beneath you but you can’t bring yourself to care; you get more desperate with every minute she’s not buried inside you, unable to contain the quiet whimpers that escape you.

“Kafka…” you breathe out in a whine, aware of how much it turns her on to hear her name out your lips. Her cock throbs on your thigh at the sound.

She plants kisses down your jaw and pinches your nipple a couple of times, the feeling delicious yet not enough. Her hum rumbles through her chest, “Mmm… Pleading already?”

Aeons, she’s infuriating. You wrap a leg around her waist and her length rests on your slit, but you bite the flesh of your cheek to keep in a breathy moan, not wanting to inflate her ego more than it already is. Kafka reaches down to rub her tip between your lower lips, almost groaning as your slick mixes with the saliva from your tongue. Your lungs stutter and you suck in a breath, nails digging into the expanse of her back. Her head grazes your aching clit, you arch further into her to repeat the action. It feels so good you forget all about who you’re dealing with until she speaks up again.

Kafka’s licks a broad stripe up your neck, then her mouth brushes the skin of your jaw on its way to your earlobe, pressing a kiss just below.

“You’re dripping…” Though her voice is close to your eardrums, you barely register the words she utters, lost in the pleasure of your clit sliding against the thick of her cock. “How much do you want this, mm?”

There’s a lick on the cartilage of your ear before she pulls away to look at you through the dull pink of her irises, eyelids heavy. The movement of her dick on your pussy comes to halt and it takes you losing that relieving friction to understand that she expects an answer.

“W-What?”

“Did you miss me this much?”

Your heel digs into her lower back to pull her closer, but her lips simply stretch into a knowing, teasing smile. She presses her tip against your twitching clit once, delighting in the flutter of her eyelashes and the beginnings of a needy moan that you refuse to let her hear.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you reply, but even you have to admit that your sentence lacks conviction or venom.

“Mm…” Kafka guides the tip of her cock to your gushing entrance and your next inhale gets caught in your throat. “Is it flattery if it’s true?”

“You w— Hah—!”

She pushes the head inside you, feeling you clench instinctively at the intrusion, and lets out a sigh of pleasure as your warm, tight cunt welcomes her cock. She watches a quiver go through your bottom lip and briefly bites her own. One hand digs into the plush of your love handle, the other sinks into the bedsheets next to your head. She slides another inch into you and your fingers tangle in her locks, tugging at the sensation of her length inside you, stretching you so well a breathless gasp spills from your mouth. Her smile is smug, pleased at your silence, and you swallow as you muster the strength to speak. Kafka leans closer, the tip of her nose against your cheek and her breath warming your skin. Slowly, she bottoms out completely and gives you a moment to adjust to the fullness. Something in the way her pants falter occasionally tells you that she needs that pause too. Her lips are on your jaw in a kiss way too soft, too gentle to be from her; her who means nothing to you aside from the pleasure she provides you.

“I missed you.”

You feel a buzzing sensation in your lower belly that has nothing to do with her cock nestled in your cunt. The words are murmured like a confession but you know they aren’t one, Kafka means to provoke you so that she can put you in your place, a game you’ve played since the day you met. You can’t explain why it’s as if your heartstrings are plucked and manipulated like those of an instrument, its melody disorganized and disharmonious. You don’t understand the sudden irritation that mixes with your arousal, sending a shiver down your spine.

You tug at her hair and her head follows the movement backwards, lips parting.

“I hate you,” you manage to utter through gritted teeth, and you’re frustrated to find that there’s no truth in what you’ve said.

Kafka’s growing grin turns mocking. “Aww. But you’re sucking me in…”

To prove her point, she withdraws from you just to thrust back in, her tip hitting that sensitive spot inside you. Her length rubs your walls with every thrust of her hips, rendering you speechless aside from the quiet whimpers that fall from your tongue, and your anger fades away, replaced by the desperate need to come. Your fingers messily swipe at your clit and your nails paint crescent moons on her back from how tightly you’re holding on to her body. Despite her own need, Kafka is determined to pull more lovely sounds from you. Her pace is tantalizingly slow but harsh in the way you prefer as she fills you to the brim. You feel her all around you, her lips on your jaw, the pads of her fingers sinking into your flesh, her cock buried deep inside your fluttering cunt. Her low moans and short groans hit your ears in sinful sounds that only make you wetter. Her breasts are flushed to yours, following the rocking of her hips.

“Fuck, fuck—“ you babble breathily, lost in the pleasure, “more…”

You don’t register Kafka manhandling you with an arm around your waist so that you’re straddling her lap instead, only that the change in position allows her to drive deeper into you. You moan brokenly as she grabs your hips and guides you down onto her cock in one go. Your thighs tremble, aching, and your orgasm is imminent. Kafka groans into your shoulder, bouncing you on her dick, the taut coil in her belly begging to snap. Your slick trickles down her length and your wet pussy swallows her cock, you clench around her like you dread she’ll pull out before you can come. She uses a palm to apply pressure on your lower stomach, feeling the faint outline of her bulge inside you, and the sensation pushes you over the edge. You cream on her cock with a cry. Your head tilts back and Kafka leans away from your shoulder to gaze at your cum drenching her girth. She knows how sensitive you get after an orgasm, can feel you twitch against her with the aftershocks, but she can’t help jerking her hips upwards to fuck your cum back into your pussy. She wants to see her own cum merge with yours until you’re so full of her that you’re gushing.

“Kafka—!” You gasp out, fingers gripping her loose ponytail, “W-Wait…”

She shushes you with an insistent kiss. She’s close, guiding your hips up and down her throbbing cock. With a particularly harsh thrust, that familiar coil in her stomach finally breaks and her cum spills into you in hot, intense spurts against your inner walls. It’s too much for you to handle even as her thrusts stutter, yet a second orgasm builds inside you, quick and desperate; your body moves on its own accord, further stimulating you and drawing a long, drawn out moan out of you. Kafka’s lips are parted and you miss the sheen in her eyes as she stares up at you unashamedly riding her until you come around her dick a second time.

You’re both coming down from your high some time later, your eyes are shut and the pace of your rising chest slows down enough for you to take deep breaths. Kafka is a comforting presence beside you on the bed, and like you do with many things, you ignore the warmth that is born from your chest and spreads across your torso. A welcomed kind of exhaustion creeps up on you, almost pulling you into a dream, but you hear Kafka move next to you so you turn your head to look at her. She’s fixing her hair, putting back locks of magenta into her ponytail. She feels your gaze on her and meets your eyes with a small smile. There’s that twitch of your heart and fingertips again at the sight of the soft glow of her sweaty skin under your bedroom lights.

“You look exhausted,” her tone lacks its usual teasing edge but you’re too tired to notice, “I’ll use the shower and lock behind me with the spare key. You should sleep. I’ll message you tomorrow.”

You don’t say anything to that. You stare at the ceiling as the shower is turned on in the background.

Kafka doesn’t text the next day.

[reidrum]

carry the weight of you | s.r

A/N: i had this posted on an old blog but here's this, idk if i like it but it's also one of my first fics so if lemme know if you have thoughts <3

cw: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, reader is sad, depression ?, spencer is a cutie who just wants to love, can be read as gn!reader

wc: 1.8k

_______________________________________________

it was supposed to be a routine case. well, not a routine case. those don’t really exist in the bau, but one that had a clear MO and decent enough leads that garcia could easily use to find the unsub. it wasn’t even a case that was especially creepy in nature, lord knows those give the whole bureau nightmares for days.

so why did you feel this way?

you were relatively new to the team—having one year under your belt to your near decades experienced colleagues. but you had rightfully earned your spot in the bau, and you deserved to be there.

but right now you had no energy to believe that. the ache in your chest was ever present from your younger days, courtesy of the circumstances from your upbringing, and you should’ve expected that joining the fbi would’ve only made it heavier. you bared it nonetheless because that’s what you were taught to do. you felt beaten down by the last few days, and just couldn’t wait to get back home and crawl into your bed.

the team had wrapped up the case, and you all were on the jet flying back home to the district. sat next to the ever observant dr. reid, he noticed your glazed eyes and distant aura exuding from you.

“you okay?” he bumps your shoulder bringing you out of your trance.

“i’m fine, don’t worry about me.” you replied curtly and tried to fold into the crevice between the seat and the walls of the plane.

“bold of you to lie to a profiler while on a plane full of profiles,” he chuckled lightly, “seriously, you look troubled. are you sure you don’t wanna play honesty hour right now?”

“spence, i’m okay, I promise.” you tried your best at a genuine smile that was as see through as a windexed window. he returned it with his own thin lipped smile and left you be. 

were you okay? you don’t even know how long you’ve felt like this. small, insignificant, nothing. you do great work at your job, tarnishing evil and saving lives. but you can’t help but find it ironic that it’s your own mind working against you that seems to be your demise. 

the jet landed around midnight and the team shuffled through the bullpen to gather their belongings before going home. everyone offered their goodbyes and goodnights and spencer was waiting for you by the door. you both lived in the same apartment building, only because when you first moved to quantico you had no one and knew no one. spencer took it upon himself to help you out, being the newest young rookie on the team, a position he was all too familiar with. his next door neighbor had moved out for an immediate job offer and was looking for a subletter and lo and behold, spencer had become your best friend.

in the few months that you were getting accustomed to the area spencer invited you over for nightly chess games and doctor who marathons. morgan always teased the two of you saying you should be going out on the town having fun only young people can have, and spencer would blush and stammer something out but you would have the brightest smile and look at him saying they were the most fun you’ve had.

so he was surprised to say the least when those nights started to become far and few. you would politely decline and spencer would assume you’d finally listened to morgan and got better plans. but he could hear the patter of your footsteps and the occasional expletive from when you’d hit a table corner and wondered what he did to make you recluse yourself again.

spencer was a profiler after all, mix that with being your closest friend and he could pinpoint the moments you started to change. you’d started making less jokes, even during moments where the team would pause and wait for a little quip from you but hear nothing. you were harder to gain attention from, usually needing three or four calls to get you to even look up. and he just saw you distancing yourself, almost like you didn’t want anyone to perceive you.

spencer loved you. he wouldn’t say it out loud or admit to anyone but point blank he loved you. he felt understood in a way that no one else made him feel. you were kind, smart, funny, and the empathy you held for others was enough to make him tear up. you were there for him when maeve died, letting him cry on your shoulder, and as fucked up as it sounds he realized he loved you in those moments leaking tears onto the stomach of your sweater.

so here stood spencer in front of your desk, “you heading home?” you nodded, “mind if i ride with you? i don’t feel like taking the metro this late.”

“okay, let’s go.”

the walk to your car was silent, and somehow the ride back to your apartment complex was even more silent. walking up the stairs to your apartment doors, you turn the key and step in when spencer goes, “hey actually i think i left my book at your place do you mind if i just look for it really quick?”

you stared at him blankly. you just wanted to be alone and he wants to get his book now? unbeknownst to you spencer was desperate to get to the bottom of your melancholia, and needed any in he could find right now to get there.

nonetheless you nodded your head and left the door open behind you so he could walk in. you dropped your bags and shoes at the front door and trudged through your apartment to your kitchen to put tea on the kettle. you softly called out to him, “do you want a cup of tea?”

“i’d love a cup.” he says sitting on your couch.

you’re fussing around the kitchen getting two mugs out— one doctor who and one snoopy mug. you fill the doctor who one up and add a lemon slice and turn around grabbing your snoopy mug. when you turn back towards the kettle you hit the corner of the island table and watch as your favorite mug drops and shatters into millions of pieces.

when they say a straw is what breaks the camel’s back you fully understand what they mean now because how are you about to lose all your shit over a snoopy mug. you don’t even make an effort to move, just staring at the broken pieces on the floor, trying to make sense of them like a kid pointing out cloud shapes. it’s like you can see the pieces molding into the demons that keep you up at night, the thoughts of uselessness and lethargy personifying in front of you.

spencer has to call your name three times before you finally move your eyes to meet his. you can see his lips moving but you can’t hear him, his hands are out as if he’s telling you to stay put oh wait he is. you wait as he finds your dustpan and broom and brushes up the remains into the trashcan. he slowly approaches you and maneuvers you towards the living room where you sit still glossy eyed and trembling.

he sits down next to you and places a hand on your bouncing knee to soothe it, “why won’t you talk to me?”

you shake your head, “it’s nothing spence, it’s not a big deal i can buy a new mug.” push it down.

“not that, something’s not right. and i want to help. will you let me help you?”

you feel the tears making their way up your face to make their grand exit, and you hold on to last bit of resolve you can as you shakily breathe, “i-, i can’t, it’s stupid and we see so much worse stuff so i have to keep it together and i am but today was just-“ you abruptly got up to get water from the kitchen before finishing your sentence. grabbing a glass from the cupboard, filling it up at the sink, and gulping it down with shaky hands. you set the glass down and placed your hands on the cool counter in an attempt to tether yourself to some string of reality that was left. you couldn’t burden him. you wouldn’t.

spencer gives you a minute alone before rising from the couch and walking into the kitchen. he approaches you slowly from behind, mirroring his hands on top of yours, entrapping you in his warm embrace. “i think you’re carrying so much,” he whispers gently in your ear, “you don’t have to do it by yourself. it’s okay to not be okay.”

the tears win and start streaming down your face silently. spencer continues, “what we do, it’s hard. we all have ways of not letting it get to us. rossi and his cigars, hotch and jack, garcia and her tchotchkes, i mean even emily with her sin city weekends.” you let out a wet laugh in response.

spencer doubles down and intertwines his fingers with yours, “my point is, you are not alone. i am here. let me carry some of it for you, please.”

letting out a soft sob you twist in his arms and burrow yourself into his sweatered chest. this was a new feeling for you, letting someone in to see the horrors that you worked so hard to suppress. why would anyone want to brave that journey? surely you weren’t worth the effort.

but as spencer tightened his arms around you, rubbing his hands soothingly down your back and placing a kiss at the crown of your head, you felt that even if the walls of your resolve came crumbling down that spencer would be there to catch as much as he could. and that was enough.

“thank you,” you mumbled tearily incoherent.

“i will always be here for you, no need to thank me sweetheart.”

his kindness overwhelmed you. how could someone who sees so much darkness and been through so much still hold the level of kindness he does?

you lifted your head slightly as his hand came up to cradle the back of your head, “so, what do you have?”

he hummed quizzically in response. you continued, “you said everyone has ways of getting through it, what’s yours?”

“it’s you,” spencer softly says with the most tender loving look in his eyes, smoothing your hair back as he looks down at you in his arms, “it’s always been you.”

your eyes welled up even more and squeezed him tighter if it were even possible. spencer had you. and now you had spencer.

the next day you show up to work, a snoopy mug with a gift bow sits on your desk. 

[copper-16]

Mascot

Elena's first time getting to be Alexia's mascot.

(a/n: I feel like I'm on such a roll with these lol. Hope you all enjoy! Feel free to send more requests if you have more of Elena you want to see before I settle in to work on my next bigger project I have planned :)

Alexia had gone into the gym to do a few extra exercises after training, just to get a few reps in before the important game the next week. It was El Clásico in Barcelona once again, the day before her birthday in fact. She wanted to be prepared, she wanted to be sharp and focused. She was still coming back from her ACL, she was still yet to get back to the form everyone expected from her. 

The mental load was beginning to take a toll on her, and her birthday wasn’t really helping anything. Yet another reminder that she was getting older, that everything would get more complicated as tried to play whilst she aged. 

She was so focused on her reps that she doesn’t realize that Elena is standing in front of her until there is a tiny tap on her thigh, and she looks down from the weights she is holding to see that the three year old is peering up at her rather shyly. 

“Pequeña! What are you doing here my little love?” Alexia said sweetly, carefully setting the weight down before she sat down, scooping the baby into her arms and smothering her with kisses. The little giggles and laughs that Elena let out relaxed her whole body, and she felt herself smiling more genuinely than she had in days. 

“I…um…uh…I had a….a question!” The little girl explained, leaning back slightly as she reached up to shove some of her hair away from her face. It was sort of braided back, but a lot of the baby hairs that framed her face had gotten free, and now flowed freely in the slight breeze through the gym. Alexia followed her little hand with her larger ones, running it soothingly over the little girl’s forehead. 

Mapi and Ingrid’s daughter seemed nervous for some reason, and the midfielder furrowed her eyebrows a little bit, wondering what was making the usually outgoing and bubbly little girl so anxious. She looked quite concerned for someone who was only three years old.

“What is it Elena? It is okay, you can tell me,” she promised, her voice gentle. This seemed to settle the green eyed girl for a moment, enough for her to ask her question. 

“Walk out with you?” She asked carefully, her words clearly well thought out. Alexia’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline with surprise. Mapi or Ingrid usually never let their daughter walk out with anyone else, and she wasn’t sure if she could say yes. 

She hesitated for a moment, knowing what her heart wanted, while also wanting to respect her friends' boundaries. 

“PSSSST!”

The blonde turned her head to see that Mapi and Ingrid were peering around the corner, the Norwegian’s head over her wife’s as they leaned into the gym while not wanting to go into the room completely. 

Both of the defenders reached their hands up to give thumbs up, citing their clear agreement with the situation. Alexia felt her smile grow as she turned back to Elena, who was looking at her hopefully. 

“Yes! I would love for you to walk out with me!” She agreed easily, picking up the little girl and twirling her around, inciting another round of laughter and squeals as she hugged the toddler. 

Suddenly the game seemed a little bit more exciting, and a little bit less overwhelming. At the very least, she had something to look forward to. 

—

“Where is my baby!” Alexia announced as she all but ran into the changing room, throwing her bag down when she caught sight of Elena. 

“Tia!” She cried, running over on her little legs and running directly into the midfielder. The laugh that came out of the Barcelona captain’s mouth was more natural than anything, as she bent down to peel the toddler off of her legs and to lift her up into her arms, dancing her back and forth. 

Elena clapped along with the bopping the midfielder was doing, horribly out of rhythm but still joyful all the same. 

“Tía, Tía, look at my shirt!” She announced, pulling at the little Barcelona jersey she was wearing. Alexia assumed that it was one of Mapi or Ingrid’s shirts, but when she turned the little girl around it was her name and number plastered on the back. 

“You have my shirt! What, do you love me or something?” She teased in an overly exaggerated attempt to hide the emotion that bubbled up inside of her, and when Elena nodded enthusiastically, she tucked the girl into her to give her a big hug. Little arms wrapped their way around her and held her tightly, and she found that her nerves had dissipated for the most part, at least for now. 

Elena was passed back to Mapi for a while so that Alexia could get ready, and before she knew it they were getting ready to head out. 

Elena was passed back to Alexia, who held her hand very securely as they walked out into the tunnel, preparing to go out onto the field. The little girl was oblivious entirely to Alexia’s nerves, and she babbled about everything and nothing at all to her Tía. 

When Elena looked over at the Real Madrid team, she quickly noticed a familiar face in line, and before anyone could stop her she had turned her body entirely, calling out with a force that was rather surprising from a three year old. 

“HOLA TÍA MISA!” Elena called out as though Misa was not ten meters from her. Mapi and Ingrid were standing further back in the line, and the Norwegian had to hide her laughter in a cough while the Spaniard smacked her forehead with her palm. 

The goalkeeper was known for her focus before matches, and for her stony expressions when she was in the zone, so Alexia looked over almost in panic when Elena called out to her. She wasn’t sure if Misa not responding would make Elena sad or not, and what she was supposed to do with an upset toddler when they walked out for the match. 

But to her surprise, Misa’s expression broke at the sound of her name, and her whole body softened as she turned slightly, offering a small wave to Elena, her gloves strapped securely onto her hands. 

Elena’s whole face lit up in excitement that Misa remembered her, and she turned back to Alexia with a bright smile on her face. 

“That’s Misa!” She explained cheerfully, and Alexia pretended to be surprised, looking up at the Real Madrid goalkeeper, following Elena’s instructions. 

The toddler managed to keep them preoccupied until they were ready to walk out, and Alexia held her hand carefully as they made their way out. She had been sure to inform any photographer she could find that she really wanted pictures of walking out with Elena, and she could hear the snap of the shutter as they walked out to get ready. 

The crowd roared around them, and as Elena took it in while they lined up, she found herself hiding behind Alexia’s leg a little bit. She was clearly a touch nervous, and found safety in the Barcelona captain. 

It was one thing to know her goddaughter and love her, but it felt like another for the little girl to find safety in the midfielder. It had this ability to make her feel such warmth inside, and like suddenly football mattered just a tiny bit less. 

The blonde looked down at the little girl, her forehead creasing in concern. 

“Are you okay pequeña? It is okay to be scared, I know they are loud. But they are just excited for the game!” Alexia whispered loudly, pretending that she was telling the curly haired little girl a big secret. Elena looked up at her, seemingly holding onto every word she said as she watched her godmother, nodding slightly. 

She reached her hands up as soon as Alexia stopped talking, and the Spaniard easily picked her up, popping her onto her hip and adjusting her little jersey down over her stomach with a practiced ease. 

“Do you want to wave to the crowd?” The captain asked, and Elena’s smile spread as she reached her hand out, waving at everyone in the stands. 

There will be a picture for Alexia to frame, of the toddler with a big smile on her face as she waved at the crowd, while the midfielder laughed at her, gazing down at the little one adoringly. 

It’s only after the coin toss, which Elena helps with, that the little girl has to part from Alexia, so that they can play the game. The green eyed girl is passed to Patri, who begins to take her from her fellow midfielder before Elena calls out, causing Alexia’s steps to falter. 

“Tía Ale! Tía come back!” Elena all but wails, and for a second the game becomes obsolete to the Spaniard, who instantly turns back at the sound of the little girl’s clear discontent. 

“What? What is it?” She replies as she jogs over, and the curly haired girl reaches her hand up to her mouth before she runs over to Alexia, exaggerating a kissing motion off of her mouth and then pressing her hand to the Spaniard’s knee. 

“Good luck kiss! Score a goal!” Elena nods her little head at Alexia before she runs after Patri, who scoops her up and jogs them both to the bench so they can start the game. 

The Barcelona captain looks down at her knee for a second. The one the toddler had tapped was her bad knee, and even though Elena couldn’t know that, it felt a little symbolic. Her resolve to win strengthens as she sets up to play the match. 

—

Elena squirmed in Mapi’s hold as the game wound down, the Spaniard’s daughter knowing full well that it was nearly over. She had been subbed off about twenty minutes prior, and had collected her daughter from Patri to sit together on the bench, but all the little girl wanted today was Alexia it seemed. 

“Just one more minute!” Mapi laughed as the little girl let out a big huff, clearly displeased with that answer. She continued to twist and turn until the final whistle blew, and finally the center back released her, allowing the green eyed girl to take off as fast as her little legs would allow it. 

Ingrid was standing in between her and Alexia, and she bent down to receive her daughter, only for the little girl to drive by her completely, clearly not in search of her. Mapi, who had been trailing after her, laughed easily at the semi-annoyed look on her wife’s face. 

“Gosh, when did we become old news?” The Norwegian shook her head with a slight frown on her lips, but the brunette could tell her wife wasn’t really annoyed, not when they turned to see where their daughter was headed. 

Alexia was headed for the little girl just as much as Elena was running to her, and she bent down just as Elena made it to her, so that she could feel the toddler bury herself in her arms as she wound them around her in exchange. 

“You did it!” Elena announced happily, because the captain truly had. 

Alexia had scored a goal in the 79th minute of the game, and with the very leg where she had received a good luck kiss from the curly haired girl right before the match. 

“I did! And it was all thanks to you and your magic kisses, thank you so much!” Alexia gushed happily, pecking kiss after kiss to Elena’s little cheek as she held her tightly. The squeals and giggles released in response were well worth it, and she found herself leaning into the kisses that the curly haired girl offered in response, pressing wet little kisses to her cheek before she nestled herself further into Alexia. 

“Love you Tía,” Elena announced as she fisted one of her little hands in Alexia’s kit, and the midfielder was absolutely positive that her heart doubled in size at the words. 

“I love you too pequeña, always,” she promised as she pressed another kiss to the top of her head, holding the little girl securely to herself, rocking her back and forth.