#i thought that maybe they were different??

[goldfades]

HOTTEST COUPLE IN THE ROOM ───JB⁹

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.5k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | requested! -> "Joe x Dallas cowboy cheerleader reader"

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | reader is kinda perceived as bitchy, and not a cookie-cutter dcc. lots of a banter, leads to relationship.

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | my new fav thing EVER

The bass shakes the floor beneath your heels, the scent of top-shelf liquor and expensive cologne thick in the air. The postgame party is exactly what you expected—too many people, too much noise, and a lingering sense of competition that doesn’t quite fade even after the game’s final whistle. Cowboys and Bengals players mix like oil and water, good-natured jabs tossed between sips of whiskey, the occasional laugh laced with something sharper.

You don’t want to be here.

But when the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders make an appearance, it’s not optional. It’s PR. It’s “team camaraderie.” It’s smiling through gritted teeth while some dude in a suit with more money than personality tells you how impressive it is that you can do a perfect high kick in full glam.

You adjust the hem of your dress, shifting against the leather couch tucked in the VIP section. It’s not that you’re bad at playing the part. You just don’t fit the mold the way you’re supposed to. The other girls—prim, polished, always camera-ready—glide through the room like they were born for this. You, on the other hand, are already toeing the line of “too much.” Too opinionated, too unpredictable, too unwilling to be anything other than exactly who you are.

And yet, you’re still here. Because when you dance, they shut up about the rest.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show,” a voice drawls beside you, cutting through the music.

Your gaze shifts, locking onto the last person you expected to seek you out tonight. Joe Burrow.

His suit jacket is slung over his arm, the sleeves of his crisp white button-down rolled up just enough to give him that effortlessly put-together look. He’s got that half-smirk that’s made him a social media obsession, and yet there’s something else in his expression—curiosity, maybe. Amusement.

You raise a brow. “Didn’t think you knew who I was.”

“Oh, I know who you are.” His eyes flicker, something sharp and knowing in them. “Hard to miss the cheerleader who doesn’t play by the rules.”

You tilt your head, feigning offense. “I play by the rules.”

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Nah. You don’t. You just make it look like you do.”

And there it is. The first crack in the game, the unspoken understanding settling between you like a drawn line in the sand.

It should be nothing.

But somehow, it doesn’t feel like nothing.

You lean back against the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other toying with the rim of the drink you don’t actually want. The ice clinks softly as you swirl it, eyes flicking back to Joe, unimpressed but not entirely disinterested.

“Wow,” you deadpan. “Joe Burrow knows my reputation. I guess I can retire now.”

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, the kind that barely shakes his shoulders. “Just saying, you don’t blend in.”

You lift a brow. “Neither do you.”

His smirk deepens, just a little. “Difference is, I’m supposed to stand out.”

You roll your eyes. “God, you’re worse than I thought.”

Joe blinks, feigning offense. “Worse?”

“Yeah.” You tilt your head, taking him in. “I figured you’d at least let me get a word in before pulling the ‘I’m Joe Burrow’ card.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The smirk on his face falters just a fraction, like he’s recalculating his approach. He came over here thinking he’d charm you with minimal effort, just like he probably does with every other girl in this room. You can’t blame him. You’re used to guys like him—ones who assume that a few smooth lines and a good jawline will be enough to win you over. It’s exhausting, really.

Joe, to his credit, seems to pick up on it quickly. He shifts his stance, dropping the easy arrogance just a notch, watching you like he’s trying to figure out a new play mid-game.

“So, you don’t like football players,” he guesses.

“I never said that.”

“You don’t seem impressed.”

“I’m just not easily impressed.”

Joe clicks his tongue, shaking his head like he’s been personally challenged. “Tough crowd.”

You let out a short laugh, finally taking a sip of your drink. The warmth spreads through you, smoothing the edges of your already sharp tongue. “Look, I get it. You’re Joe Cool, media darling, golden boy, future Hall of Famer, blah, blah, blah. But none of that tells me who you actually are.”

Joe’s quiet for a beat, like he wasn’t expecting you to cut through the bullshit so quickly. Most people don’t.

He studies you. “You wanna know who I am?”

“I wanna know if you can hold a conversation that doesn’t involve your highlight reel.”

Joe grins, shaking his head like you’re more trouble than he bargained for—but not the kind he wants to walk away from.

“Alright,” he says, leaning in slightly. “Let’s make it fair. Since you’re so uninterested in my career, how about I ask about yours?”

You narrow your eyes. “Go for it.”

He tilts his head. “You always wanted to be a cheerleader?”

You pause for a fraction of a second. It’s not a bad question, but it’s not the usual small talk either. It’s got an edge to it, like he’s actually curious.

“No,” you admit. “I wanted to be an astronaut.”

Joe snorts. “Serious?”

“As a heart attack.” You smirk. “But apparently, NASA frowns upon people who talk back to their instructors.”

Joe laughs now, really laughs, and it does something to his face—makes it lighter, less perfectly put-together. It’s a nice look on him.

“So, you settled for the next most intense program?” he asks.

“Something like that.” You glance around the room, at the Cowboys players, the other cheerleaders, the high-profile guests all schmoozing and clinking glasses. “DCC is its own version of NASA. Just with more hairspray and stricter calorie counts.”

Joe hums, considering that. “And yet, you don’t seem the type to take orders.”

You shrug. “I don’t. But I’m really, really good at what I do.”

His gaze lingers for half a second too long. “Yeah,” he says, low and thoughtful. “I bet you are.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes your breath catch for just a second—not because you’re flustered, but because it feels like he actually sees you, past the sequins and forced smiles and PR obligations.

You tap your nails against your glass, breaking whatever was starting to settle between you. “Well, congrats,” you say, all light and teasing again. “You managed to hold a conversation without bringing up your own stats.”

Joe grins, lazy and triumphant. “And?”

You take a slow sip, watching him over the rim of your glass. “You’re not completely insufferable.”

Joe laughs, leaning back into the couch. “I’ll take it.”

The first date wasn’t supposed to happen.

At least, not in your mind.

But Joe had this way of slipping through the cracks of your carefully built walls, catching you off guard in a way that wasn’t annoying, but intriguing. So, when he had looked at you across that crowded party and said, “One drink. No football talk,” you had rolled your eyes, but ultimately, you had agreed.

One drink turned into three. A post-midnight drive through downtown. A completely ridiculous bet over who could name more obscure 90s songs (you won, obviously). And then, somehow, a second date.

And that was the real surprise.

Because by then, you figured you had him pegged. Star quarterback, smooth operator, probably used to women falling over themselves to impress him. But the Joe you saw away from the cameras, when it was just the two of you in a dimly lit hole-in-the-wall bar or sprawled out on his couch, eating takeout straight from the boxes, was different. He was easy in a way that felt familiar, like a song you hadn’t heard in years but still knew all the words to.

And he got you.

Most guys would tense up when you made some sarcastic comment, unsure if they should be amused or offended. Joe just smirked and shot one right back, quick and sharp like one of his passes. The banter was effortless, the chemistry undeniable, but it never felt forced.

It felt like you’d known him forever.

Which was dangerous.

Because you weren’t supposed to like him this much.

But a few months flew by before you could think too hard about it.

One minute, you were rolling your eyes at him in a Dallas bar. The next, you were sneaking glances at your phone in the middle of DCC rehearsals, trying not to smile at whatever nonsense he had just texted you.

Then came the flights.

You found yourself booking tickets to Cincinnati more often than you’d ever expected, trading in your Texas sunsets for the sharp chill of Ohio air, showing up in his city like you belonged there. And the crazy part? It never felt inconvenient. You had never been the type to rearrange your schedule for a guy, but with Joe, it was different. He made the effort too—catching flights to see you between games, showing up unannounced just to grab dinner, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It should’ve been overwhelming, but it wasn’t.

Because nothing about Joe was ever boring.

You’d expected the excitement in the beginning—the flirty back-and-forth, the teasing, the lingering looks that stretched longer than they should. But what you hadn’t expected was the way he made everything feel lighter. How he made you laugh when you were dead on your feet after an exhausting game day. How he somehow always knew when you needed to talk and when you just needed to sit in comfortable silence.

And yeah, the tension was there. Always.

You weren’t blind, and Joe sure as hell wasn’t either. There were moments—when his hand lingered on your lower back a second too long, when you caught him watching you with that unreadable expression, when he pulled you into a hug that felt like it meant something more.

But neither of you pushed it. Not yet.

For now, it was enough to just exist in whatever this was.

And, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t in any rush to define it.

The New York City skyline stretched high above the venue, lights twinkling like they were in on the secret that tonight was something different.

Joe didn’t hide you.

He hadn’t from the start, really, but there was a difference between showing up for each other in private and standing next to him now, his hand resting low on your back, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress like he wanted everyone to see exactly where you belonged.

And you?

You looked good enough to ruin a man’s career.

Your dress was the kind that turned heads—sleek, with just enough edge to remind people that you weren’t the typical quarterback’s girlfriend. Joe wasn’t intimidated by it, wasn’t the type to shrink when his girl demanded attention. No, if anything, he was thriving on it. Walking into the party with you on his arm, chin high, like he knew for a fact that you were the hottest couple in the room.

And you were.

It didn’t matter that the place was full of some of the most famous athletes in the league, that models and influencers and A-listers milled around with expensive drinks in hand—no one looked as good as the two of you together.

Joe left you only once, leaning down to murmur, “Gonna get us a drink, don’t go too far.”

You weren’t worried about being left alone. You’d been in these rooms before, could handle yourself just fine.

But apparently, someone didn’t get the memo.

The moment Joe was out of earshot, a presence settled beside you—too close, too confident.

“Damn, haven’t seen you in a minute.”

You already knew you were going to hate him before you even looked.

And sure enough, when you turned, there he was. A Cowboys player, one you’d interacted with just enough to know he was exactly the type you had no patience for. Cocky in a way that wasn’t charming, self-important in a way that made your skin itch.

You barely had time to open your mouth before he bulldozed on.

“So, what, you finally got tired of playing in the kiddie pool and upgraded?” He grinned, not even waiting for you to respond. “Figured it was only a matter of time. The whole ‘untouchable cheerleader’ thing was getting old.”

You smiled. Smirked, really. Because this? This was amusing.

He thought you were flustered. Thought you were scrambling for a way out.

Like you hadn’t been shutting down men like him since the first time you ever put on that DCC uniform.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, voice smooth as silk. “Joe’s an upgrade, alright.” You tilted your head, eyes dragging over him in an exaggerated once-over. “But considering what I was working with before, it really didn’t take much.”

His smile flickered, but he was too stubborn to let it go. “C’mon, you don’t have to pretend with me. I know you, remember? Back when you were just another Dallas girl trying to play hard to get?”

You actually laughed at that.

Not a fake, polite one. A real one. Because this was just sad.

“Wow,” you mused. “I’ve gotta give it to you, you commit to the bit. Most guys would’ve tapped out by now, but you? You’re still going. That’s dedication.”

His jaw tensed just slightly. “I’m just saying, no need to act all high and mighty. We both know you used to—”

“Used to what?”

Your voice was still sweet, still playful, but the underlying steel was there. And when you took a slow sip of your drink, watching him over the rim, it was clear you were letting him dig his own grave.

Before he could figure out how to claw his way out, a shadow loomed beside you.

Joe.

But not in the swooping, Oh no! My girl is in distress! way.

No, he was calm. Casual. Like he had all the time in the world. His presence alone was enough to shift the energy in the conversation, but you didn’t even acknowledge him yet. You wanted to see just how long it would take for the guy in front of you to realize he’d lost.

Turns out, not long.

Joe didn’t say anything, just leaned slightly against the bar, watching with mild interest. But the weight of his presence alone did something to your uninvited guest—made him shift uncomfortably, made his easy confidence crack just a little.

And that? That was satisfying.

“I was just catching up with your girl,” the Cowboy muttered, backtracking so fast you almost wanted to laugh.

Joe didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah?” He glanced at you, finally acknowledging you with a knowing smirk. “You having fun?”

You took another sip, grinning. “Oh, loads.”

The guy beside you tensed. “I was just—”

“Leaving?” you supplied helpfully.

His mouth opened. Closed. Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Joe chuckled, finally handing you the drink he had left to get. “You were having way too much fun with that.”

You shrugged, taking a sip. “Can you blame me?”

He shook his head, draping an arm lazily around your waist, pulling you in just slightly. “Guess not.”

And the night went on.

Just you and Joe. The hottest couple in the room.

[pinkhoodi]

boyz in luv !

✎ᝰ — dc boys as romance tropes

♡⃕ — bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd, wally west, kaldur’ahm x reader

♡⃕ — genre + warnings: fluff & jason is slight ooc cause I didn’t feel like writing moody child jason sawry

♡⃕ — a/n: woooo mia writes once again. yall peepin my consistency ?

꒰ BRUCE WAYNE ꒱

Ꮺ second chance ! — bruce is a man who excels in many things and one can say he has lived different lives, depending on who you’re asking. one thing he wished to excel in is romance, he has tried time and time again to be the perfect lover for someone yet that energy was never reciprocated back, unless for a hookup. not only that, his heart was never much into it when it came to all his previous lovers and he could never understand why. was something wrong with him? however, when it came to you, he felt that he gave his all, he felt himself pour more into you than he usually would with others. thus, the two of you ending things led to bruce feeling so much heartache to the point where he couldn’t handle it any longer. he needed to find a solution, a medication, something, anything to ease this pain in his chest. to think, the bruce wayne, aka batman, could feel emotional pain, who would’ve thought?

that pain led to longing, aching times of writing you letters, stopping by your job to see how you’re doing, looking through photographic memories, begging at your front door at one random night to ask what can he do to be back with you? he can no longer live a life without you and he genuinely doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.

꒰ DICK GRAYSON ꒱

Ꮺ you fell first, he fell harder — to grayson, you were of quite importance. you two grew up in the same neighborhood until his parents was killed, you two attended the same school, and you two were always at each other’s side. if people were to find dick, they could find you next to him or somewhere near him. as years pass, and your friendship becomes deeper, dick finds himself growing feelings. as a young man, he couldn’t shake off these feelings that sprouted when you were around him. actually, neither of you could.

feelings always arose inside both of you when you two were in contact with one another, whether it be on the phone or him taking you out to a nice dinner. when you spoke, he could find himself dazed as he laid his eyes all over your beautiful features. when you lay your hand anywhere on him, as simple as the touch would be, the hairs on his body stick up, and finds himself getting hot as the touch lays on there.

the same would happen with you except the effects of his touch or his presence wouldn’t be as down bad as dick is with you. the potential crush that grew inside the both of you had made the simplest conversation become a rousing feeling to your beating hearts. except dick feels like his heart is close to exploding when he’s near you.

꒰ JASON TODD ꒱

Ꮺ childhood friends to frenemies to lovers — jason was sweet, jason was loving, jason was determined to be the brave boy just like his father. he was everything you dreamed and wanted from in a boy, since grade school you dreamed of jason todd being your dream boy. maybe it’s the crush, maybe it’s the crazy promise to each other that you’ll live together by the age of thirty if neither of you gets married. you don’t know what it is but it gave you the idea that you and jason will be stuck like glue till death do you part. a great idea for two grade schoolers but not for someone like you who was startled by jason’s behavior after being “missing” all these years.

either way, he was not the jason you’ve known and grown up with. this jason was coldhearted, brute, and didn’t have much care to be in your life, unlike younger jason. he came off with a cold shoulder and you came to the point that your friendship has gone away from his memories, you didn’t matter to him as much he mattered to you. at least, that’s what he wanted you to think.

throughout you dealing with and not wanting to accept this new jason, he was fighting with himself on whether he should make the best of your burned-out friendship to keep you from all danger or be selfish and keep your love with him, no matter the consequence you may both have to face. protect y/n and live with long-term yearning or protect your own heart and live in bliss with y/n? choose wisely jason, choose wisely.

꒰ WALLY WEST ꒱

Ꮺ unrequited love — the young man with so much to love but sometimes oh so clueless. he was intelligent and knew how to act in certain situations, making him quick-minded. however, he hasn't caught on when it came to catching hints of you flirting with him. which is strange for a man who likes to flirt with almost every woman in sight. then again, it’s the same for you when he tries to flirt with you and you just think of it as casual flirting. you don’t think anything of it since wally is a flirt, you usually just play on till you can’t anymore.

even when people assumed that you and wally have something going on, you would laugh it off and deny it. even if it does sting a bit to fake it and say that you and wally are friends, while you internally want something more. it’s not better on wally’s side either; his usual cheery and chill attitude dampers just slightly when he hears you say that the two of you are friends.

the situation of unrecognized unrequited love has both of you two’s hearts aching for one another. You don’t how long you can last by being “just friends” with wally and wally doesn’t know how long he’ll last by pretending that this crush isn’t eating him alive. as for now, friends till one confesses.

꒰ KALDUR’AHM ꒱

Ꮺ everyone sees it but them — oh kaldur, the handsome blonde man with facial features that’ll make the angels sing and a personality that could make anyone want to marry him. he’s extremely kind, soft-hearted, caring, has great leadership skills, and has everything that just screams he needs to be in your life. well, he is, as your friend, a close friend.

you two grew up together training in the young justice league and became close after one mission that almost cost you your life. he was there, by your side taking care of you and keeping watch until you completely healed. ever since then, you two has been stuck to the hip, unintentionally, and neither of you seems to mind. even when your teammates make lil comments, “look at the lovely couple” “aww when’s the wedding?” “there goes couple of the year”. you usually roll your eyes at the comments and go about your day with kaldur.

however, maybe the comments meant something; seeing as the way kaldur’s smile grows when you’re explaining something, your laughter that brings a sort of bliss to your ears. it also doesn’t help that konnor and wally notices the way kaldur lets his hand linger on yours until they’re intertwined, or the way your cheeks are so prominent when kaldur is around, and the loving expression that is present. your cheeks rise, a smile displayed, and your eyes tie it all into your facial expression potentially screaming, “I’m in love.”

but of course, the signals that everyone around notices, you two seem oblivious to notice. even when they try to point it out to either of you, you just use the excuse, “so, we’re friends. do friends not do that?” friends…right right, of course, friends!

♡⃕ technically, i had something similar for these hcs from the song “another life” by sza. but they didn’t come out how i wanted so we’re just gonna stick with these !

♡⃕ okay but the way I’ve been actually feeding yall likeeee ���

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: isaiah 41:13

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟧 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[f1fantasys]

Thought you were mine all along, guess I was wrong - Part 2.

Summary - What happens when you meet Lando again? So, this was supposed to be angst only, but ya girl can't post anything without smut, so, enjoy!

Warnings - 18+ minors DNI, smut, p in v sex, dirty talk, creampie, angst.

Part 1

The next two weeks following that morning had whizzed by in a blur. Both you and Lando had extremely busy schedules and took every free second you got to text or call each other.

It wasn't easy with the time differences, but the cyber sex was honestly the best you'd had since the start of your 'relationship...' It was intense, mind blowing phone sex, leaving you both desperate and eager to see each other, although you'd have to wait a whole extra week because Lando had some media obligations in America. So that meant it was a whole two more weeks before you could get your hands on one another.

On one particular day, you'd texted Lando in the wee hours of the morning, knowing it was late night where he was, and since he'd said he planned to spend the night in, you were expecting a quick response from him.

You didn't get one.

But you thought nothing of it, not even worrying the slightest bit, and eventually, you got on with your day. It wasn't until evening when you saw that there was still no response for him, though you could see he had been online.

You tried to call him, it just rang and rang.

Still, you didn't think much of it. Maybe he just needed space, and you were happy to oblige.

The next few days as well passed with radio silence from him. You could see from social media that he was out and about, doing whatever media he had to do, getting on with it all, except you it seems, though you willed yourself not to let it affect you.

Newsflash it did.

Deciding it was best to throw yourself into work, you were now working ungodly hours overtime, getting as much done to try and block out the fact that Lando was clearly avoiding you by now. It had only been a week of absolutely no contact, but it definitely felt much longer than that. You missed his goofy laugh, his adorable dimples, his banter, and you missed the orgasms he gave you...you missed his dick.

It was now past 8pm, and after a long day of grinding you stopped at the shops to get some food that you could just throw in he microwave to get hot. Busy scrolling the aisles at your local store then you stopped in your tracks. You'd never miss those god damn perfect curls, even in a sea of a million people.

He had his back to you, and before you mind could make a decision on whether to leave or talk to him, he turned around, bit his bottom lip when he saw you.

It was no surprise that Lando was a handsome man. His physique alone was hot. And so seeing him stand in front of you - in the flesh, already had a wetness pooling through your cunt.

Quickly, you out those thoughts to the back of your mind as he approached you.

''Didn't know you were back'' you said breaking the silence. You were curious to hear what his answer would be, because you were always the first person he'd call the second he was back in Monaco.

''Yeah, just been caught up..'' he trailed, letting out a breath, bringing his hand up to massage the back of his thick neck.

Caught up enough to toss me to the side... you thought to yourself.

It was awkward. Awkward as fuck. The both of you standing there, not knowing what to say to one another. Really, it was a first.

Until...

It wasn't 10 minutes later and you were riding Lando in his McLaren.

Your panty thrown somewhere in the back seat.

You should have known better, should have stopped yourselves, but clearly your pussy, and his dick, had a mind of their own.

You rode him like your life depended on it, watching with hooded eyes as your nipples disappeared into Lando's mouth, his teeth grazing and biting down hard before using his tongue to sooth over your bud.

''Fuck, Lando, yes..ri-right there, please'' you begged as even in the small of his sports car, he was lifting his hips to meet your half way, thrusting in and out of you pussy relentlessly, letting out a series of guttural moans and grunts.

It wasn't even a few minutes until you felt your orgasm nearing, your walls clenching almost painfully around Lando's cock as he bought his hand down to flick a thumb at your clit.

''So tight, fuck..need to stretch you out some more'' he murmured before capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

''I'm close'' you barely managed to say between nips and licks, your body was shuddering, shaking uncontrollably as Lando has two tasks at hand - one, keeping your body in control, two, chase his own orgasm.

And not two minutes later Lando was emptying his load into you, sheets of warm cum filling you up to the brink while lewd grunts left his mouth, his dick twitching as you rode him through it.

You finally stilled your bodies, chests heaving trying to catch your breaths as you leaned back and put your weight on his steering wheel behind you.

''Fucking hell'' he said, panting as his eyes stayed trained on the state you were in - disheveled hair, boobs slipped out of your bra and dress, looking red and bruised.

There was an unspoken tension filling up the car, and you could feel him softening inside you, the both of you looking down to the place you were still joined, almost as if you were avoiding looking at each other.

You watched as Lando gently pulled himself out, gasping when he saw a mixture of both your cum oozing out of your cunt, the both of you moaning at the sight, and then suddenly his eyes were trained on yours, as he very quickly pushed his dick back into you, pushing the cum back in.

''Fuck'' he whispered as you let out another moan, your walls clenching tightly around him.

''Lan..'' you murmured, closing your eyes and trying to etch the feeling of his dick inside you to your brain, because something told you this wouldn't happen again, though you prayed you were wrong.

He was suddenly hard again, no surprise to him because just the sight you all fucked out and dripping with his cum got him all excited again. Call it his good stamina.

''Come here'' he softly said, pulling you forward again, your boobs in his face as he lifted you ass up slightly before slamming you down in one hard thrust.

You braced your hands on his shoulders again, leaning down to lock lips with him for the first time since you last saw him.

It was sloppy and dirty, tongue and teeth clashing, almost as if you were just licking each other where possible - not properly kissing, all the while Lando bounced you up and down his dick, each thrust getting harder than each.

You pulled back for air, Lando stuffing his face back into your boobs, letting a series of staggered breaths and groans leave your mouth, feeling your orgasm approaching fast.

''Lando, I- fuck, I can't. Too much'' you were barely able to say. He was being ruthless and as much as you wanted it, your body was overly sensitive today.

''You can baby, one more for me, yeah? Fuck please'' he sounded like he was begging, and how could you refuse him?

You couldn't form any words by now, so all you did was nod your head, while his hand raked down to pinch at your clit.

''That's it baby. Please just be a slut for me. You're already doing so fucking good, letting me fuck you so good. Fuck'' he grunted, through gritted teeth, knowing his dirty words would send you over the edge.

And he was right, within seconds your cum was coating his dick again, your body quivering in his arms again, feeling like jelly, releasing pornographic moans into the confinement of the car.

And Lando - as soon as he felt you walls closing up on him, his own release spluttering his cum through your pussy, warm and sticky as he slowed his movements and eventually came to a standstill.

''Ah, fuck y/n'' he mumbled, causing you to giggle because yeah, ''fuck'' was the word of the day.

You stayed close together, breathing in each others air as your bodies shivered with cool air on your sweat, Lando busying his hands by combing your hair back through his fingers.

This time, he pulled out, and he stayed out, using his fingers instead to gently push the cum back up your pussy before bringing them up to his lips and licking them clean.

And this time, your eyes didn't avoid each other.

Lando kept opening and closing his mouth, wanting to say something though falling short every time.

You didn't miss how his body language changed all of a sudden, how he stiffened underneath you, and suddenly you felt cautious.

It was awkward as fuck - you sitting on his naked thighs, dress bunched up you stomach, pussy bare and leaking, while his jeans and boxers were pushed halfway down his legs, cock soft and twitchy resting against your stomach.

Finally, he cleared his throat. His words knocking all the air out of his lungs.

''I...I'm seeing someone..Magui. I mean. I'm gonna start seeing Magui. So this - he gestured between the two of you - can't happen again.''

Your breath hitched, you could feel the color draining from you face as your own body now stiffened.

He said it so casually, like what you just did meant nothing. Like the last 6 months have been nothing, just tossed off to the side.

''Say something..'' he whispered.

You were sure your words would get stuck in your throat, already feeling your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the whole situation.

Lando was done with you. He basically 'dumped' you while you were both naked in the smallest space possible.

You cleared your throat and leaned over to his passenger seat to grab a tissue, your mind racing as fast as his cars go. Some many thoughts overwhelming you as you willed yourself not to let tears spill out your eyes.

This is it. He's not yours. He's back with her, an ex fling. He's leaving you for her.

''Y/N'' he said your name softly, gauging your reaction.

You sniffled, concentrating on cleaning your cunt - that was still on full display, before you finally pulled your dress down and looked up at him.

Gone was that look that was reserved just for you, and you heart broke at the cold eyes staring at you.

''So that's why you've been avoiding me..? Too busy fucking someone else? Why did we just do this if you're with her? You've just used me to basically cheat on her....thought you'd have more respect for the both of us...'' you questioned, almost whispering the last part, and wincing at your words because you didn't want to know the answer.

Lando coughed, shifting underneath you as he slyly tucked his dick back into his boxers.

''Not seeing her yet...but yeah I guess there are unresolved feelings so we're gonna give it a shot'' he said. ''As for us... guess this was a moment of weakness. But I'm done. We're done.'' he said matter of factly.

You suddenly felt like you couldn't breathe, needing to get out of this space asap because the man in front of you wasn't the Lando you knew.

Not 10 minutes ago was he calling you baby...swallowing a mix of your cum, and now he's done with you.

You're heart clenched not just at the fact that you were losing your fuckbuddy, but Lando as your best friend. From the way he was talking, it was clear that the friendship part of your relationship was also done with.

You needed to get out of here before you broke down in front of him. He didn't deserve to see you vulnerable like this.

So you took one last longing look at him, memorizing each and every freckle and line on his face as you body tingled from the warmth of him.

Surely he could see the hurt on your face, right? He knew you better than most. But still, his eyes didn't soften, nor did his words.

''You should go..now..forget the last few months...'' he said, already moving to open the door for you to climb out of his lap.

You cleared your throat for the umpteenth time today, mind fuzzed when your body finally lost contact with his, and with one last look at him, you turned on your heels, shamefully walking to your car, and not a few seconds later, he was zooming out of the car park.

The next few days were spent wallowing in bed, avoiding any events in town with the fear of running into them.

So George's girlfriend Carmen took up residency at your apartment to keep your mind busy.

You needed to heal, and move on from something that was nothing to even begin with.

A whole week later as you were scrolling Instagram, the photo slapped you in the face.

There he was, with his tongue down her throat, hands groping her ass.

You had no right to be mad, sad, angry, whatever emotions that were over taking your senses. Lando wasn't yours. Not anymore at least. There was never any label between you.

But the more you thought about it, you were more so longing the guy with whom you could talk about anything, truly be yourself around and not get judged for silly things.

The universe had other plans for you though...because in just two weeks time, you were to host an event in London for McLaren. Oh, what could go wrong......

A/N - hope you all enjoyed this...side tracked part! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Taglist - @somanyfandomsbruh @lanf1an @annimausi @ernegren @plotpal @hurtblossom @rbv3rstappen @tylerstacobell @wanderingreigns @bowielovesyou @alexanderachillesisgay @sarx164

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗜’𝗩𝗘 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗗 lando norris x  fem! reader (angst) fic summary . . . Lando's playboy image has everyone, including yourself, convinced he's just another guy who sleeps around, until he finally opens up about his feelings that is (482 words)

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests )

There was a sharp edge to your voice tonight. Lando had heard you angry before, but never like this. Never when it was aimed at him.

“You know what, Lando?” you snapped, arms crossed as you stood in his hotel room. “Why don’t you go find some random girl and fuck your feelings out like you always do?”

Lando flinched like you’d struck him.

You didn’t even see it. Or maybe you did, but you didn’t care—not in the heat of the moment. Not when he’d been pissing you off all night, poking at you, pushing, teasing like always, but this time it was different. This time it hurt, and you didn’t even know why.

Lando let out a short laugh, but there was nothing funny about it. “Is that really what you think of me?”

You scoffed. “Everyone knows, Lando. It’s not exactly a secret.”

Everyone. Social media. The paddock. The world.

Everyone had an opinion about him. About the playboy image, about the girls, about the headlines. He knew what people said. Knew what they thought.

But he never thought you believed it.

Lando exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His voice was quieter now, strained. “You really think I just sleep around with random girls?”

You shrugged, still defensive. “I mean… yeah?”

And fuck—something inside him cracked.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his whole body taut like a string pulled too tight. His throat was burning, his heart was pounding, and suddenly, the words he’d been burying for years clawed their way up his throat.

“I don’t.”

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“I don’t sleep around,” Lando bit out. His voice shook, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. “Because the only girl I have ever wanted is you.”

The air in the room changed.

You blinked, lips parting slightly, but no words came out.

Lando let out a breath, shaking his head. “God, do you have any idea what it’s like?” His voice wavered now, and fuck, his eyes were stinging. “To be so fucking in love with you that it hurts?”

He laughed bitterly, swiping at his face. “I can’t even look at another girl because no one—no one—could ever compare to you. And yet, here you are, shouting at me, looking at me like I’m some kind of—some kind of fucking stranger.”

You still weren’t saying anything.

“Jesus, Yn,” Lando whispered, voice thick with emotion. “You’re tearing me apart.”

His chest felt tight, too tight, like his ribs couldn’t contain everything inside him anymore. Like it was all breaking apart and you were just standing there, watching him bleed.

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

And then, finally, your lips parted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“…You love me?”

Lando huffed out a breath, looking away as a tear slipped down his cheek. “I don’t know how to do anything else.”

“Just—just forget it,” he mumbled. “I’ll go.”

And then he turned, chest tight, hands trembling—because if he stayed, if he looked at you for even a second longer, he was pretty sure his heart would never recover.

[goldfades]

family ties | chapter one, DAYLIGHT | burrow⁹

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference!

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MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.7k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | the youngest kelce has spent her whole life navigating the chaos of her famous last name, always lingering in the background while her brothers took center stage. but when travis falls for taylor swift, she suddenly finds herself feeling like a third wheel in her own family. and after your heartbreak with an nba player, you never thought you'd find love again.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | just normal prologue stuff! kelce family bantering, mentions of jayson tatum, olivia h mention (IT WAS FOR THE PLOT I SWEAR), heartbreak (but no graphic descriptions), nothing else!

⟢ ┈ ev's notes: okay listen guys i had to think of a random basketball player and the first one i thought of was jayson tatum. if ur not attracted to him, just like... imagine someone else but the celtics are not mentioned so... it's fine!!!!! it's a minor little detail but yeah!

also, i might change some stuff that was from the OG fic just because it doesn't fit the plot i've made LOL. enjoy!

You were an accident in every possible way.

Born an astounding eight years after Travis, nearly eleven after Jason, you weren’t exactly planned. By the time you came along, your parents had been convinced they were done, their hands already full with two loud, competitive boys who spent more time wrestling in the backyard than sitting still. And then—there was you.

A baby sister in every sense of the word.

Your brothers treated you like some kind of rare, delicate thing at first, unsure what to do with you other than stare into your crib and poke at your tiny hands. But that didn’t last long. Before you could even walk, Jason was letting you sit on his lap while he played video games, and Travis had appointed himself your unofficial bodyguard, glaring at anyone who so much as breathed in your direction.

You grew up surrounded by chaos—loud dinners, backyard football games that almost always ended in someone getting tackled too hard, and a house full of laughter. Your parents tried their best to raise you with the same principles that had shaped your brothers, but you were different from the start.

Where Jason was responsible and steady, you were restless. Where Travis was loud and the life of the party, you were observant.

It wasn’t that you were quiet—no one raised in a Kelce household could be described as quiet—but you learned early on how to move through the world a little differently. Being the youngest meant you had to be quick-witted, fast on your feet, and always ready to hold your own. If you didn’t, you’d get run over.

By the time you hit high school, you had learned how to use your last name to your advantage. It got you free drinks at parties, easier conversations with teachers, and a built-in reputation before you ever had to prove yourself. But it also came with expectations—the kind that lingered over you like a shadow.

People expected you to be just like your brothers.

Maybe a little wild, maybe a little reckless. Definitely athletic. Definitely loud.

And you were some of those things.

You were an athlete, sure—your dad would’ve had an aneurysm if you weren’t—but not in the way people wanted. You had a sharp competitive streak, but you never cared about being the best. You played because it was fun, because it was expected, because you liked the feeling of winning, but you never had dreams of making it big. Not like Jason. Not like Travis.

And as for being reckless? You were a Kelce, so it was in your blood. But you were also smart. Calculated. Where Travis would throw himself into anything just to see what would happen, you thought three steps ahead. You weren’t scared of getting into trouble, but you were good at avoiding it.

That was the thing about growing up the way you did—watching your brothers carve their paths before you. You learned how to navigate things differently. You let them be the loudest people in the room while you played the long game, slipping through cracks unnoticed until you wanted to be noticed.

You didn’t date much in high school—not seriously, anyway. Not because people didn’t try (being a Kelce came with its perks), but because most boys were too intimidated by the idea of dating Jason and Travis Kelce’s little sister. You never really minded. Most of the guys at your school weren’t worth your time, anyway.

But you did notice the way people looked at you.

The way guys wanted to say they had a shot with you, even if they never tried. The way girls sometimes whispered about you, speculating if you were actually as down-to-earth as you pretended to be. The way teachers expected you to either be a slacker or a prodigy, like there was no in-between.

You weren’t sure when exactly you started feeling like an enigma—like people had decided who you were before you even had a chance to figure it out for yourself.

Maybe it was when your friends started bringing you to parties just because your last name got you through the door. Maybe it was when people started assuming you were only where you were because of your family. Maybe it was when you realized that, no matter what you did, you’d always be compared to the brothers who came before you.

By the time you graduated, you had perfected the art of keeping people at a distance. You knew how to smile just enough to be approachable, how to joke just enough to make people like you. But you also knew how to keep things yours.

And so you did.

You left home with the intention of making a name for yourself—outside of football, outside of the Kelce legacy. You weren’t running away from it, exactly. You just needed something that was yours alone.

And for the most part, you succeeded.

You built a life that had nothing to do with your last name. You found your own friends, your own career, your own world. You managed to exist outside of the NFL bubble, despite how often it tried to pull you back in. And for years, that was enough.

You were nineteen when you met Jayson Tatum.

Nineteen and reckless in the way only someone on the verge of something monumental can be—when success feels inevitable, and the world hasn’t yet taught you how cruel it can be. You had grown up in the shadows of your last name, in the periphery of stadium lights, in the echoes of your brothers’ roaring crowds. But Jayson was the first person who made you feel like the center of something.

You weren’t naïve. You knew what it meant to love someone like him—someone whose name was already in the rafters, whose presence carried weight before he even walked into a room. He was smooth, confident, charming in that way that made you want to believe him. And maybe that was the problem: you did.

It started fast, the way these things always do. Courtside seats, late-night flights, whispered phone calls from different time zones. He made you feel special, called you his “genius,” said he had never met someone like you before. But love with him always came with conditions. He loved you, but he wanted you to fit into his world, to mold yourself into the spaces left between his career, his schedule, his life. And you tried. God, you tried. You sat in the stands, smiled for the cameras, learned the rhythms of his world even when he never bothered to learn yours.

And it was never enough.

It was always push and pull, a constant cycle of breaking and rebuilding. He would tell you he couldn’t do it anymore, that you were too much, that he needed someone who understood his life. And then weeks later, he’d be back, whispering apologies, promising he had figured it out this time. And you—stupid, hopeful, nineteen, then twenty, then twenty-one—kept believing him.

Until December 2022. The last time. The worst time.

You had always been careful, always known how to exist just outside the spotlight, but this time, the breakup wasn’t just yours. It was public. Messy. Everywhere. Headlines dissecting your relationship, tabloids picking apart your heartbreak like it was something they were entitled to. Your face plastered across the internet, grainy photos of you leaving restaurants, ducking into cars, standing alone in a crowd. Strangers speculating about you, about him, about what went wrong, about whether you were as heartbroken as they hoped you’d be.

And the worst part? You were. You just didn’t want them to know it.

You had never cared about fame—not like that, not in the way the world suddenly seemed to demand from you. You weren’t built for it, for the attention, for the scrutiny, for the way people suddenly decided you were interesting now that you were broken.

It was the lowest you had ever been.

After that, you buried yourself in work, in building something no one could take from you. You stopped trusting the cameras, stopped giving interviews, stopped letting people in. And love? Love became something you didn’t have time for. Something you couldn’t afford.

Not until Joe. But that was another story.

⟢ JULY 2023

The Kelces did the Fourth of July the same way they did everything else—loud, chaotic, and with enough food to feed an army.

The backyard was still a mess from the day’s events. Empty plates stacked on tables, beer bottles scattered across the deck, remnants of water balloons forgotten in the grass. The kids had long since crashed, curled up in the living room after a full day of running around, and your parents had finally turned in for the night. That left just the three of you—Jason, Travis, and you—lingering in the kitchen, picking at the last of the food and settling in for what was, by tradition, gossip hour.

Jason was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, looking half-exhausted, half-amused as he nursed what was probably his final beer of the night. Kylie had gone upstairs an hour ago, throwing a “don’t let him stay up too late” over her shoulder before disappearing. Travis was still riding the high of a long day—barefoot, tanned from the sun, and grinning like he knew something you didn’t.

You, for your part, were perched on the counter, sipping a Coke because you had a feeling one of you needed to remain at least somewhat coherent.

“So, uh,” Travis started, reaching for the last deviled egg on the platter. “Speaking of cool people, guess who I started talking to?”

Jason shot him a tired look. “Oh, here we go.”

You glanced between them. “What do you mean, talking to?”

Travis grinned. “Taylor Swift.”

You blinked. “What?”

Jason groaned, running a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ, Trav.”

“What?” Travis said, clearly enjoying himself. “It’s not a big deal.”

You snorted. “You just casually dropped Taylor Swift into the conversation like it’s the weather. That’s not normal.”

Jason pointed at you. “Exactly. Thank you.”

Travis rolled his eyes, shoving the deviled egg into his mouth. “It’s not like that. We’ve just been texting. I shot my shot, and what do you know? The Kelce charm works.”

Jason looked unimpressed. “Define ‘texting.’”

Travis chewed thoughtfully. “Like… texting.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Travis.”

He smirked. “Okay, fine. I invited her to a game. She didn’t come, but she thought it was funny. We started talking. She’s cool as hell.”

You stared at him, processing. “Hold on. You shot your shot with Taylor Swift—arguably the biggest pop star in the world—by inviting her to a football game?”

Travis shrugged. “I mean, yeah.”

Jason huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “I hate that it worked.”

You leaned forward, intrigued now. “Wait, so what do you guys talk about?”

Travis grinned. “Oh, you know. Life. Music. Football. Friendship bracelets.”

Jason made a strangled noise. “I swear to God—”

“I’m serious!” Travis held up his hands. “She thought it was funny! That’s what started it, actually.”

You narrowed your eyes, skeptical. “And how often are you guys texting?”

Travis took a sip of his beer, clearly stalling.

“Travis.”

He sighed dramatically. “Every day. Okay? Happy?”

Jason looked at you, then back at him. “Holy shit. You like her.”

Travis scoffed. “Of course I like her, she’s Taylor fuckin’ Swift.”

“No,” you cut in, pointing at him. “Not just, like, ‘fan’ like her. You actually like her.”

Travis hesitated. And that was all you needed to see.

Jason whistled low, shaking his head. “This is gonna be a disaster.”

You grinned, tilting your head. “Or… it’s gonna be the greatest thing to ever happen to you.”

Travis gave you a look, something half-serious beneath all the usual bravado. “You think?”

You shrugged. “I think you have a long road ahead of you if you actually wanna date Taylor Swift. But if anyone’s got the balls to do it, it’s you.”

Travis sat back, considering that. Then he smirked. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Jason groaned. “Oh God.”

You hopped off the counter, stealing the beer out of Travis’s hand and taking a sip. “I can’t wait for Mom to find out.”

Travis laughed, shaking his head. “You’re evil.”

“You love it.”

And just like that, the topic shifted—because that was the thing about being a Kelce. No matter how big the news, how crazy the story, at the end of the day, you were just family. Talking shit in the kitchen, making fun of each other, and watching history unfold in real time.

The whole thing kind of unraveled in front of you.

One minute, Travis was dropping Taylor Swift’s name into a conversation like it was nothing, and the next, she was there. Not in a surreal, once-in-a-lifetime, see-her-from-a-distance kind of way—but in the real way. The kind where she was suddenly just… around. Sitting across from you at dinner, feet tucked under her on the couch, sipping a drink at the same backyard parties you had been going to your whole life.

It wasn’t weird, not exactly. It was just happening.

You had been close to fame before, obviously. Jason and Travis had built their careers in the public eye, and you had spent your whole life in and around that world, brushing shoulders with athletes and celebrities who treated your last name like a golden ticket. You knew how to navigate it, how to smile politely and act like it didn’t phase you.

But this was different.

Because this wasn’t just fame. This was Taylor Swift—and she wasn’t just a headline or a name on a stadium marquee. She was here, in your world, existing in it like she belonged. And the strangest part? She kind of did.

You liked her. She was easy to like. Funny, quick-witted, smarter than people probably even realized. She had this way of making everyone feel like they were the only person in the room when she talked to them. Even you, at times, when she wasn’t entirely preoccupied with Travis.

And, well. That was the thing, wasn’t it?

Because she was preoccupied with Travis.

That was the whole point.

She wasn’t your friend. She wasn’t coming around to hang out with you. She was here for him. And that was fine. It was great, actually. You had never seen your brother like this before—completely, stupidly, out-of-his-mind happy. He glowed around her, and you were happy for him.

But somewhere along the way, you started to notice it.

The third wheel feeling.

It wasn’t obvious at first. Not in the beginning, when everything was still so new and exciting and unbelievable.

But then came the dinners where you felt like a spectator to their conversations. The trips where you ended up walking three steps behind them. The inside jokes you weren’t a part of, the glances they shared across rooms like they were in on some secret that you weren’t.

And sure, Travis had always been larger than life. His presence had always been something you had to navigate around. But now? Now, there was them. And you? You were just… there.

It got to the point where even your nieces—who were still young enough to have no filter—started noticing. You’d barely sat down at one of your parents’ Sunday dinners when Wyatt, with all the innocence of a child, looked up at you and asked, “Where’s your boyfriend?”

You had laughed, mostly out of shock, but the sting was still there. And then it happened again. And again.

And that was how Elliot became your best friend.

At just over a year old, she was the only one who didn’t ask why you were always alone, or where your mystery boyfriend was, or when you were going to bring someone home like Travis had. Instead, she was just happy to exist beside you, happy to let you carry her around like a little security blanket when you needed an excuse to step away from them.

You spent more time with her than you did with the adults most nights, letting her babble nonsense at you while you tuned out the rest of the room.

--

Joe Burrow wasn’t born into greatness.

He was born into a world where nothing was guaranteed, where talent didn’t always mean success, where hard work didn’t always lead to the dream. He grew up watching his father grind his way through the football world, moving from coaching job to coaching job, never staying anywhere long enough to feel settled. He understood from a young age that football wasn’t just a game—it was survival. It was everything.

But for most of his life, Joe wasn’t the guy. He wasn’t the five-star recruit, the kid whose name carried weight before he even stepped on the field. He was good—great, even—but great didn’t always mean enough. Ohio State was supposed to be his shot, his moment, the place where he proved himself. Instead, it was where he sat on the bench, waiting for a chance that never came, watching other guys take the field while he tried to convince himself it wasn’t slipping away from him.

There were nights he thought about giving it up. That maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. That maybe football had already given him all it was going to. But he wasn’t built to quit, and when LSU came calling, he took the leap.

That was the moment everything changed.

LSU wasn’t just an opportunity—it was a resurrection. It was the first time he felt like the guy, like he wasn’t just taking up space on a roster but actually belonged there. The game slowed down, the doubt faded, and for the first time in his life, he thought: Maybe I can actually do this. Maybe I can be great.

Then came 2019. The season. The Heisman. The national championship. The moment his life shifted from maybe to inevitable. He went from overlooked to undeniable, from backup to first overall pick, from fighting for a shot to standing at the top of the football world.

And somewhere in all of that, there was Olivia.

She had been there from Ohio State, through the struggles, through the late nights spent questioning everything. She was safe, steady, someone who knew him before everything changed. And for a while, that was enough. They built a life together in the in-between spaces of his career—through the transfer, through LSU, through the draft, through the move to Cincinnati.

But something had shifted along the way. Maybe it was the fame, the pressure, the way football consumed everything in its path. Maybe it was the fact that he had spent so long chasing this dream that he didn’t know how to slow down, didn’t know how to be the kind of man who could put something else—someone else—first.

Or maybe they had just grown into different people.

The love had been real. That was never a question. But real didn’t always mean forever, and when the cracks started to show, neither of them could ignore them. The long distance, the late nights, the feeling of being together but not really together. Football had always been his first love, and Olivia had always understood that. But understanding didn’t make it easier.

By the time the breakup happened, it felt inevitable. A quiet ending, no messy headlines, no dramatic fallout. Just two people who had spent years trying to make something work, finally realizing it wasn’t meant to.

Joe had never been one for public spectacle, had never been the guy who wanted his love life picked apart. But that didn’t stop people from talking. From wondering when he’d date again, who he’d be seen with, what kind of woman would fit into the world he had built.

But he wasn’t looking. Football was still everything, still the thing that took up all the space in his life.

At least, until you.

[lynmars79]

Also how many folks grew up with guardian figures who were not actually the best at cooking. How many pre-made, pre-packaged TV dinners were eaten as a kid? Or basing the dislike of certain foods because they were first or only exposed to them in institutional cafeteria mass-produced situations, like school lunches. I've had friends who swore they hated certain foods try them properly made as adults and are shocked at the differences in experience.

Kids are more sensitive to foods, which is a good thing as small children also tend to put a lot of things in their mouths - it's a biological safety precaution! But as OP says, tastes alter and change (barring actual allergies, food sensitivities, responses to other factors like texture, etc), and keep doing so as we age. I hated sauerkraut as a kid, couldn't stand anything even touched by it - but as an adult Reubens are one of my favorite sandwiches.

Try things (so long as it's medically safe for you). See if your tastes have altered, and/or if it's a difference in how something is prepared now by someone knowing what they're doing, as opposed to a tired parent who maybe wasn't so talented in the kitchen as we thought they were when young.

My 30-something wisdom is that your palate is constantly changing so don't assume because you hated a food 10 or 20 years ago you still will. Most radically, your taste as a little kid is not indicative of what it will be as an adult-- I've known too many adults who still refuse to eat anything but chicken strips and ketchup because they're still basing their taste on what they experienced at 8 years old and so have cut themselves off from the entire world of adult taste. In my case, my taste for savory foods, especially vegetable dishes, "bitter" foods, and more complex flavor combinations has really expanded. I didn't like mushrooms as a child or for most of my 20s, but around 28 suddenly they worked for me. I started enjoying dark chocolate around 25, especially paired with fruit flavors. I've never been hugely fond of eggplant but discovered that in a sauce or roasted in butter and oil its delicious. I've always enjoyed fish but in the last 15 years I've discovered a passion for it, salmon especially. I've learned to recognize the tastes of herbs and love putting them into everything I can (currently I'm most enthusiastic about dill.) I'm also suddenly crazy about all kinds of sandwiches. And I'm still trying olives every couple years in case suddenly they start working for me, though sadly no luck on that front yet. So basically, expect that your taste is going to change in adulthood and expect that it will keep changing. And you can also work to develop your palate by exposing yourself to new flavors and combinations and cuisines, opening you up to even more foods you might never have liked before. So keep trying new and old foods, because you never know when you might suddenly start liking something new or discover a new way it can be prepared or a new texture it can come in. Don't wind up imprisoned in a world of chicken strips just because you haven't tried anything else since 3rd grade, you deserve better.

[sylus-doll]

Synopsis: It's normal to feel insecure every once in a while. But what would Sylus think of it? You wonder if he'll think that you're too much but you still ask to look through his phone anyway. And he willingly lets you.

Warnings: Low self-esteem and self-doubt, insecurity, jealousy issues (thinking he has other girls), bad relationships (not with Sylus), mentions of stalking (done by Sylus to you), mentions of threat messages.

Author's note: Is this controversial. Idk. I think I'm overbearing, so this is self-indulgent but I hope that it helps if you can relate to it as well. This is based on one of his Destiny Café and affinity level up lines. Comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

You had always been a little insecure of yourself. Comparing yourself to others, envying the life they have, wishing to be a different person entirely. All of this had been ingrained into you like heated iron scorching skin, branding itself onto the fragile fabric of your soul. It would be alright, if it didn't consume your being and take the reigns of your mind at the worst of times.

Previous partners always brushed you off when you wanted to speak to them about your troubles. Telling you that it was fine— that they could handle it. Lies. Maybe they would indulge you once or twice, but they would always end up angry at you for being... difficult. Your jealousy is out of control, your clinginess is overbearing, your need for reassurance is exhausting. Always too much, too high maintenance. It all ends sour.

But you can't help it. The need to satiate this overwhelming emotion withers you away. Your desperate want for someone to claim you as their number one— the only one—overrides rationality. Yet you have learned to bite your tongue. Force your words to die in your throat because you never want to be too much. Especially not for someone like Sylus. Sylus who has always been so understanding and patient and you are terrified that this might tip him over the edge.

Sylus, however, notices that you seem rather lost in thought. Although he has been on his phone for quite some time, nothing gets past him. Not your jittery behaviour or the sighs that escape past your lips as if they were the words you wished to convey but held back on. He sees you fiddling with a trinket, some gemstone he left lying around the base that Mephisto probably went for. Switching off his phone, he sets it aside in favour of staring intently at you, two fingers resting on his temple as he leans on his elbow.

“You seem quite fascinated with that pretty gem, sweetie. Has Mephisto influenced you with a crow's instinct?” Sylus teases you, an opening line for conversation.

You jerk, scowling at the man, “Don't compare me to that bird!”

He only chuckles, shaking his head.

“What's on your mind, sweetie?” The tone of his voice shifts, now noticeably softer. So are his eyes.

Sylus is worried about you, it seems. You glance at him, taking in the way he keeps his eyes only on you. Then briefly direct your gaze towards that damn phone of his before looking into his eyes. Vicious scarlet turned lovesick velvet; it engulfs you in safety. Your lip quivers, and you bite down to stop it from doing so. What would Sylus say if you asked to look through his phone? How irritated or annoyed would he be? But his eyes are so warm, and you crave the gentle adoration it drowns you in.

“Can I... look through your phone?” You ask hesitantly, breaking eye contact first.

Well. That was the last thing he expected you'd ask him. He stares at you a little dumbfounded, only briefly, before regaining his composure. He expected a favor, something grand or perhaps requested the impossible from him. Of all things Sylus owns, and you ask for his mobile device. With a quirk of his brow and small tug at his lips, he gestures for you to come closer. When you do, he sits you across his lap, pulling his phone from the coffee table with his evol and drops it off in your hands.

“Go ahead, sweetie. I have nothing to hide from you, only the authorities.”

Sylus is patient when you begin your... search. Throughout all the apps he has; social media, websites, albums, contacts. You find that most of it contains you and N109 business. Pictures of you that you don't recall him taking, candid ones looking away from the camera. Auction sites where he's betting on antique weapons and vintage wine. Messages to Luke and Kieran regarding missions, and sometimes about keeping an eye on you. Ominous ones from others that come in the form of—

“What do the codes mean?” The question tumbles out of you before you fully think it through. Damn you.

His hand envelops yours, scrolling through the messages with his thumb.

“This one, is a location. Some sort of trap, most likely. The one you looked at earlier was a threat. And as for this...” Sylus explains every single one, not even hesitating.

Once you're satisfied, you give him back his phone. There was nothing. No other girl, no secret lover, not a single piece of incriminating evidence. Shame and guilt immediately take root within you. Sylus is not that kind of person, you should have known that. Should have trusted him more and let it be. Why were you like this? Apologize. It's what you need to do now because maybe he thought you were doubting him.

“I'm sorry—” he cuts you off.

“No. You have nothing to apologize for. Didn't I tell you that you have access to all my resources? Including, but not limited to, my phone. You can take a mile if I give you an inch.”

He brings your hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle. Even the tips of your fingers, and a final one on the inside of your palm.

“Next time, you don't need to ask. Just snatch it away from me if you think I'm giving it too much attention. I'll drop anything to show you how much I adore you.” He looks at you, gaze unwavering.

You will never be too much for Sylus. Everything that you have to offer, he will devour like a dog starved. He has been deprived of the intensity of your affections for far too long to be picky. If your love is tender, he will soften himself from metal to clay and be molded by your hands as best he can. And if your love is untamed ferocity he will embrace you with open arms, ready to be ripped apart. It will be alright— Sylus will stitch himself back together if that was what you needed him to do. That is what he will do to love you.

[beomiracles]

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 TAPE 01

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ Moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. Though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder. ⸝⸝

𝓹airings criminal!beomgyu x detective!reader 𝔀arnings blood, character death, descriptions of violence/slight gore, implied sexual encounters, womanizer!beomgyu, making out, penetrative sex, public sex, alcohol consumption.

📼 THE TAPE RECORDINGS

𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝓢𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 contains dark themes portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships and substance abuse. reader discretion is advised ! — this story is partly told in flashbacks, beware of timestamps as past/present are mixed throughout the story.

#serene adds ✎.. heh, realised after I hit post that I forgot to add a little note for myself on here. hmm... criminal conscience yes, I missed this series, a lot :3 super happy for it to be back, and better than ever !

[ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။| TAPE 01 ] — Stay Away From Choi Beomgyu — recording length; 5.9k

📼 —  April 5th 2023

It was cold. Your cheeks were wet, and whether that was from the rain pouring down on you, or the endless tears streaming down your face you didn’t know. But it was cold. It was dark too, awfully so. Yet you could clearly make out the image of him, his hunched over figure, his bloody hands moving without even the slightest tremble as they clenched and unclenched into fists. For a moment it looked like he wanted to reach out, to touch you. 

The way you flinched, taking a quick step backward made him frown. “Dollface..” He tries, his voice uncharacteristically soft, the tension on his face easing up, if just for a moment. But you won’t hear it. Fuck, you could take the drugs, the lying and the cheating…Suppose you never were together in the end, not officially at least. — And you could take it. All of it. 

This was different. This was… You glance between the blood on his shirt, down to his bruised knuckles. You knew what he’d done. Something truly unforgiving, something evil, inhumane. Beomgyu was a terrible person. For months you’d let yourself be blindsighted, too caught up on trying to fit him into the life you’d imagined, into a life that would never be his. Because that was not who he was. 

You thought things would be different with you. That you somehow stood out from the rest, that maybe… Maybe he wasn’t as bad as people made him out to be. But you should’ve known. You should’ve known to stay away from Choi Beomgyu. 

“You’re a monster.” 

It happens before you can even stop it, the way the words fall from your quivering lips. Your voice is strained with the effort of keeping down another sob, and your breath comes out shaky with each exhale. — He doesn’t look surprised, in fact his expression remains perfectly unreadable, just like it always did. That hurts the most you think. 

He takes a step forward, his shoes making a wet noise against the muddy ground. The rain makes his clothes cling to his body, his dark hair matted against his face, shielding his dark eyes from view until he pushes the strands back. — “C’mon dollface, we can work this out.” The once sweet nickname now made you feel sick. Butterflies no longer surged within your stomach, though, you’re not so sure that they ever had. 

You shake your head, adamant in your decision as you swallow. “Stay away from me.” Even though your voice is close to cracking it seems to break his trance, and Beomgyu looks confused for the first time. It would’ve been an almost satisfactory sight, had it not been for your current situation. But one quick glance toward the blood smeared all over him makes you want to vomit. 

“I never want to see you again.” 

And you hoped you never would. With all of your heart and being you wished to never see Choi Beomgyu ever again. 

⸝⸝ 

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 19th 2024

“Hello?” 

Your words are followed by a thick silence and after almost twenty seconds you sigh. “Are you calling from downstairs again? You know the connection there is terrible.” Another minute passes, and you listen to the bruising noise of nothing for what feels like forever until Yeonjun’s voice finally breaks through on the device. 

“Hello? Oh, there you are!” He sounds almost surprised over the fact that the line seemed to actually be working. “Yes, yes I know I shouldn’t be calling from down here, but the elevator’s broken..” — He clears his throat before rapidly continuing. “Alright, I’ve got someone for you, can you make it down to room 31 in ten?” 

The groan passing your lips rings out into your office, bouncing off the walls and surely picking up on the phone despite the shitty connection. “Do you know what time it is? I’ve just barely made it here..” You grumble, yet you’re already rising from your chair, eager to be assigned a case from your senior. 

Yeonjun hums and you hear the clicking sound of what you assumed to be a pen. “We’ve kept him detained all night, best to get going quickly so we can move him over this afternoon.” He sounds absentminded when he speaks, as if his attention was elsewhere, likely reading off of the file in his hands. Still, you frown at his words. 

“Move him? To where, custody? How do you know we’ll have to do that?” Yeonjun doesn’t answer right away, which was unusual for him, and you pause with your hand on the door handle. — “I think it’s best you just come down here”, he then says, the finalisation in his tone evident. You bite the inside of your cheek, your mind suddenly swimming with questions you longed to ask. But you shrug them off, twisting the handle as you step outside. 

“Alright, I’ll be there.” 

The walk to the basement where the interrogations took place was an even longer one today. With no elevator you’re forced to stumble down four sets of stairs, silently vowing to yourself never to wear heels to work ever again. 

Fishing through your pockets, you grab onto the first thing you come across. A small tube of red lipstick, the engravings on its container made your heart skip a beat as you recognized its origin. Oh. You thought you’d gotten rid of that.. But the small cosmetic seemed to have made it during your move not long ago. How odd. 

The sound of your heels come to an abrupt halt as you stop to apply the red tint to your lips, using the camera on your far too old phone as a mirror. Despite its long history, the color remained just as bold as it had been when it was brand new. For some reason the revelation made your chest contract. — Screw it, you thought as you pushed the container back into the depths of your pocket. You would make sure to get rid of it on your way home. The past should remain the past, and for good reasons too. 

Interrogation room 31 is by the very end of the hall. The lights here had yet to be switched out and some of them flickered in a most uncanny way, setting the scene for something akin to a horror movie. However your worries come to ease when you spot your senior outside the door. Leaning against the wall, Yeonjun pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as his eyes remain glued to the files in front of him. 

“Took you long enough”, he huffs without taking his eyes off the clipboard. You raise a threatening fist his way but lower it again with a small grin, “whatever.” Yeonjun cocks an eyebrow your way but doesn’t make an attempt to comment as he instead sighs. — “23 year old male, brought in yesterday around 1am..” He begins, his expression quickly schooling into a more professional one, and you’re instantly reminded of how he used to be when you trained under him. 

He flips the paper, eyes dropping as he scans the written documents. “He’s in for first degree murder and attempted arson.” Shit, that’s serious. — “Are there any witnesses?” You ask, interrupting him when your curiosity gets the better of you. Though it would likely be far too soon to determine that. Yeonjun shakes his head, “None have come forward, besides it’s still too early to say.” You nod, heat rising on your cheeks at the small misstep. 

“Then, how is he linked to the crime?” 

Yeonjun’s eyes snap toward you upon hearing your words, his jaw twitching ever so slightly. “Victim’s DNA on him”, he says as he hands you the file belonging to the victim. Your gaze immediately falls on the number of pictures already gathered from the scene. From the blood covered floorboards to the discarded knife, the bloody bathtub and the victim himself. 

“Park Baekhyun”, Yeonjun says as he points to the picture snapped of a man in his mid thirties. He was bruised from head to toe, his limp body awkwardly laid in the full tub. “34, male, cause of death was asphyxiation due to his head being held underwater for an extended period of time.” 

Once he’s reached the end of his small debrief, your jaw hangs slack. Whoever did this had no intentions of sparing the poor man. And judging by the way the scene looked, they didn’t seem to ever have.

“Will you be alright with this one?” Your senior’s question pulls your attention from the files in your hand, and you quickly nod. “Of course!” This was your first big case, and there was no way you would back down now, not when an opportunity had presented itself like this. 

Yeonjun leans over to unlock the door, his hand on the handle when he turns to you. “Remember I’m always-” — “On the other side of the glass, I know.” You finish with a small smile, and Yeonjun scoffs as he shakes his head. 

Interrogation rooms are small, their walls stripped bare and sterile. With no windows and not even a clock to tell the time, the space feels nearly suffocating. A metal table is placed by the center of the room, adorned with scratches and uneven sections from its years of mistreatment. Above it hangs a single fluorescent light, casting the room in an almost clinical glow. 

The man before you sits on one of the uncomfortable chairs, his head bowed and his cuffed hands resting on the table. His long dark hair shields his face from view, and you find your own gaze dropping to the files in your hands once more as you slide into the seat opposite him. 

You clear your throat, the quietness of the room only amplifying the sound of you swallowing again. “You’re being investigated on the grounds of first degree murder of Park Baekhyun and attempted arson against his property. You have the right to remain silent and or request for an attorney. Keep in mind that anything you say here can be used against you in court.” 

Exhale. 

With a quick glance toward the thick glass window to your left, you allow yourself a momentary break. No matter how hard you squint, it was impossible to make out anything on the other side. But you knew that Yeonjun was watching, and it made everything ten times more surreal. — When you notice that the suspect has yet to speak, you turn your attention back to him. 

He remains in front of you, with his head bowed as his fingers absentmindedly tap against the cool metal table. Your breath catches in your throat when you survey the dark rings adorning almost each and every one of his fingers, they looked oddly familiar. But before you have time to ponder the matter further, he lifts his gaze. 

His dark hair falls from his face, making his equally dark eyes meet yours, instantly they seize you with a look you knew all too well. The persistent tapping of his fingers come to an abrupt halt as his lips curl into a menacing smirk, the one that used to make your stomach twist. In that moment, you knew that he knew. Still, you deny it, hands fervently flipping the files as you replace the victim’s with his. 

Your heart plummets through the floor when your eyes land on the name, and suddenly it all makes sense. He was bound to end up in this room one day, you knew that, you had known that for a long time. You just… Had never imagined to be the one on the other side. 

His smirk only widens, exposing the sharp and shiny teeth that had grazed your skin so many times before. A breathy laugh rumbles within his chest, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, not once. He exhales with a short breath: 

“Dollface. It’s been a while hasn’t it?” 

The pet name makes an ice cold shiver crawl up your spine. You push down the insults waiting on your tongue, the months of resentment and the anger. Inhaling slowly, you remain perfectly still. He studies you close, dark eyes narrowing as he tilts his head to the side. It was as if he was trying to calculate your next move, you knew that he could. 

“Beomgyu.” The name tastes foul in your mouth, making you want to spit it out. You thought you’d left him behind, left him for good. For ten months you had tried to recover from him, from everything he’d put you through. All of it for nothing. Now he was closer than ever, within an arm's reach, if you so wished to touch him. 

His smirk only widened, he was enjoying this, you could tell it thrilled him. “In the flesh”, he says, his voice a low drawl as he drinks in your slightly bewildered expression. There were so many things you wanted to tell him, so many things you wished to get off your chest. But before you can even get a word out, the door to the interrogation room is slammed open. 

You don’t have to look to know who it is. Yeonjun’s presence could be felt from miles away as he looms over you. “A word outside”, is all he says, before promptly turning on his heel and walking out again. — You don’t take your eyes off of Beomgyu when you rise to your feet, and the smirk on his face persists even when you exit the room. 

“Alright, what’s going on?”

Your senior’s voice echoes down the vacant hallway and you wince at the accusation of his tone. How did you tell him, how did you come clean about the fact that you had history with the man currently detained and cuffed on the other side of the door. — Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you hesitantly chew on it as your eyes dart between the floor and the walls, anywhere but him. 

“Well I… Sort of knew him..” The words come out awkward, and you grimace at the way you presented the situation. Yeonjun’s frown only deepens, the crease on his forehead becoming even more prominent. “Knew?” He presses, and you suddenly feel as if you were the one being interrogated. This was not how your first case was supposed to go. 

“Well.. I haven’t seen him in a long time.” You press your lips into a thin line, forcing yourself into a more upright stance as you try your best at holding his gaze. — “How long?” Yeonjun counters, to which your heart sinks. How long has it been? You hardly kept track, for Choi Beomgyu was someone you longed to forget. “Ten months”, you finally say. 

Your senior sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers as he bites the inside of his cheek. He remains quiet for a good minute and you anxiously fiddle with the hem of your sleeves, glancing over your shoulder to make sure that no one was witnessing the most embarrassing conversation taking place. 

“I’ll take you off the case.” 

No. He can’t do that, can he? Well he technically could. Still, it was an option you refused to consider. “No.” You promptly say, rolling your shoulders back once as you prepare to face his rejection. You didn’t know why your first thought was to refuse, why a pang shot through your chest at the idea of having the case go to someone else, but it did. 

Selfish as you were, you thought you needed this case for your own gain. Whether it was to find some sort of closure for the way things ended, or perhaps even to satisfy your own curiosity. Either way, you knew that this case belonged to you. — “I’m confident that I can do this.” Your voice doesn’t waver, and your gaze is firm as you peer up at Yeonjun. 

Your senior sighs, carding his fingers through his hair as he mutters something under his breath. “It’s against policy and I shouldn’t-” — “Please, Yeonjun.” You take a step forward, hopeful eyes silently pleading with him. 

“I could be of great help, I’m certain of it, please just give me a chance.” — Yeonjun doesn’t look convinced, his dark brows furrowed as he glances between you and the shut door. Patiently you wait as he thinks to himself, your heart thrumming in your ears as you refuse the urge to beg him further. 

Finally, he huffs, shaking his head once, as if in disbelief of himself. “Alright, but if I notice that things are getting out of hand you’re off, are we clear?” 

Eagerly you nod, “Of course. Thank you, sir!” You catch the way he rolls his eyes, coughing slightly as he dismisses you with the wave of his hands. “Don’t act formal with me now”, he tsks, shooting you a small sideway glance. He reaches for the handle once more, holding the door open for you as you enter the suffocating interrogation room a second time that day. 

The silence is deafening as you step back inside, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you echoing off the four confined walls. Beomgyu remains seated, mindlessly fiddling with the rings on his fingers, the cuffs around his wrists scraping against the metal table. — You force yourself to remain stoic as you approach once more, carefully taking your seat opposite him as you place your files down in front of you. 

You clear your throat, ready to begin the initial interview when he suddenly speaks. “You look different.” He presents the statement causally as he leans back in his chair, it makes a squeaking noise at the action. Your heart pounds against your ribcage and you swallow as you hold his gaze. — “People change”, you say, your throat suddenly feeling dry. 

Beomgyu shakes his head, his dark and piercing gaze trailing along your figure. “But you act the same.” His lips stretch into a menacing smirk and you have to force the memories of those very lips against your own and all over your body, out of your head. Focus. You couldn’t afford to be taken off the case. 

“Last night”, you start off strong, your voice firm as you finally divert your attention from the files you’d been clinging onto, “You were present at Park Baekhyun’s property around 1am. What were you doing there?” 

The smirk has yet to fall from his face and Beomgyu cocks an eyebrow your way as he lets go of the rings he’d been fiddling with. “Cleanin’ up a mess”, the nonchalant tone he used masks any hint of unease he might be experiencing. 

“What kind of mess?” 

A glimmer of mischief flashes across his almost black eyes, it was one you recognized. His tongue prods against the inside of his cheeks, his hands flat against the metal table. “Well certainly not the ones we used to make.” The mockery made your skin crawl and you fought back the insults surfacing as you clenched your jaw. 

“Please refrain from straying off topic”, you say, your voice eerily calm. Beomgyu rolls his eyes, but doesn’t attempt to argue as he regards you with a bored expression. “One of my employee’s messed up”, he shrugs, “Fairly new to the job so I can’t really hold him accountable.” — You watch as his eyes flicker over to the window on his right, his gaze narrowing on the thick glass. 

“You gotta go easy on the newbies”, he then adds without tearing his attention from the window. And even though he couldn’t see Yeonjun, he without a doubt knew that he was there. For a moment, it felt almost as if he was addressing your senior and not you. 

Beomgyu’s gaze soon flickers back to you, the smirk on his lips returning within seconds. “But you would know all about that wouldn’t you?” His eyes flash with underlying desire, “I went easy on you the first time.” 

He didn’t. Perhaps that was why you remembered your first encounter with Choi Beomgyu to this day. 

⸝⸝ 

📼 — March 28th 2022 

The floor thumps in rhythm to the loud bass that echoes from the DJ booth. Sweaty bodies are pressed against one another as people tear their way through the dancefloor. The fluorescent lights blind you as they flash from purple to blue to green and back to purple again. — Perched awkwardly on a high stool by the bar, you watch as the night unravels before you. 

Clubs had never been your forte. Especially not during the weekends where they seemed to host a home for the whole city as everyone drank their day to day problems away. Your eyes scan for Kayla, she was the one who’d brought you here in the first place. After listening to her persistent whining for almost an hour you had finally caved, but at what cost? 

As soon as your coats had been left, she’d darted for the dancefloor, not as much as a second thought about you as she searched for her next victim. You shouldn’t even be surprised anymore, it was in her nature honestly. 

You’ve already emptied two glasses, and now you’re tapping the cool rim against your lips as you aimlessly peer out over the crowd. The idea of another drink enticed you, but your wallet strongly disagreed with that idea, thus you were left far too sober for your own liking as you avoided any attempts at socialising. You weren’t here to make friends, much less fuck around. 

It was then, in the midst of a heavy sigh, that your eyes fell on him. Back then you hadn’t known his name, you hadn’t known anything of what was to come. Your first thought was that he wasn’t your type. And you wanted to leave it at that, to let your eyes continue their endless roam and forget about him, but you couldn’t. 

Your gaze clung to him as it trailed along his dark and long hair, perfectly framing his sharp features. Then to the half-hearted smirk he wore, to his dark clothes and the black rings around almost each and every one of his fingers. And then finally to his eyes, darker and all the more menacing than the rest of him, they seemed to glow under the neon lights. 

For some reason, he was looking at you too. Despite the two half-naked girls draped over him, their hands insistently clawing at every part of him they could access, undoubtedly whispering beyond filthy shit in his ears with sickeningly sweet giggles. — Why was he looking at you?

He wasn't alone, far from it. The small booth he occupied held, not only him and the two girls, but at least three other guys as well, all wearing the same brooding expressions. You should look away, pretend like you’d never seen him in the first place, but the longer you stared at him, and the longer he stared back, it became increasingly more difficult. 

His smirk widens when he brings his glass to his lips, and over the rim you catch the sly wink he sends you. Your heart stumbles over its next beat, your own glass stuttering against your chin as you grip it tighter. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to getting hit on, or even subtly flirted with. But there was something undeniably different about this man. Despite your earlier complaints on your sobriety, you suddenly felt intoxicated in a way you never had before. 

And so you did the only reasonable thing left to do. You winked back. 

He chuckles, even though you’re unable to hear it, you can see it in the way his chest rises and falls. His ring clad hand slides along the thigh of one of the girls, who giggled as she leaned in to kiss his neck. He seemed to pay her little mind, those same dark eyes still fixed on you.. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

Kayla’s voice is sharp, and it snaps your attention from the stranger and over to your friend as she takes the seat next to yours. Slouched over the bar, she orders herself a glass of water which she begins gulping down. — “What?” You question as you watch her wipe her lips. 

“That guy, the one you were eyeing”, she points in the direction of the man you’d just been gawking at, “He’s no good.” She gives a firm nod, glass gripped tightly in her hand as she peers down at the liquid floating around. — “How’d you know?” You scoff as you, too, turn back to the bar. Perhaps she was jealous of you succeeding in finding someone when she wasn’t, it wouldn’t be a first. 

But Kayla only huffs, her nails tapping against the glass as she purses her lips. “Only uses women for his own personal gain and pleasure, you’ll get hurt.” 

“What if I only seek pleasure?” That was a lie, because you didn’t, far from it. You were nothing like Kayla, at least you liked to think you weren’t. —- “Then I suggest you seek it elsewhere, I meant what I said, he’s bad news.” 

“How do you know that?”

Her knowledge about this stranger intrigued you. Had she hooked up with him before and got jealous by the possibility of you doing the same? Had he rejected her? 

Kayla sighs, her expression taking on an almost melancholic form as she sets her glass down. “Do you remember Shay?” She suddenly asks and you frown, confused by the mention of her old friend. “Yeah? You haven’t mentioned her in a while, did something happen?” 

Your friend snorts, throwing a glance over her shoulder as she nods toward the man by the booth. “Yeah, he did. – One night she’s off with him, next time I see her is two weeks later, drugged out of her fucking mind and unable to stand on her own goddamn legs.” A visible shiver runs down Kayla's spine as she recalls the events in her head. 

Turning back to the counter, she picks up her glass, “Besides, I’ve never seen him with the same woman twice.” With that, she downs the remaining water before pushing the now empty glass away. — “Better to try your luck on the dancefloor, hm?” She suggests as she attempts to pull you along. 

“I’m fine here.” You give her a small smile, watching as she nods before turning to disappear through the thick crowd. 

As much as you tried to keep your gaze from wandering, it somehow ended up by that godforsaken booth yet again. Except this time, the man seemed far too busy to spare your hopeless stares as much as a second glance. One of the girls had crawled onto his lap, shielding most of his face from view as she pressed her lips to his. 

His fingers squeezed around her hips before his hands traveled down the curve of her ass, barely covered by the ridiculously short skirt she wore. — They only broke apart for him to mutter something to one of the others present, their following laughter almost overpowering the loud music. 

With a small grimace you finally tear your gaze from the sight, slumping back against the bar with a tired sigh. This night seemed to drag on forever. Perhaps you could call a cab home, Kayla would probably want to stay at least another two hours, something that you weren’t quite feeling. 

You brace your hands on the countertop with the intention of heaving yourself from your chair and search for your friend when the bartender suddenly catches your attention. Wordlessly he places a drink in front of you, making your head jerk up as you give him a confused look. “I didn’t order–” 

“Booth 12”, he nodded to somewhere behind you but you hardly needed to turn around to know where this drink had come from. With your heart in your throat, you take the cool glass, eyeing the pinkish hue of the contents that swirled around the ice cubes. Why had he bought you this? Hesitantly you bring the glass to your lips, taking a small sip as you let the liquid slip down your throat. 

It tasted sweet, and you quickly found yourself going back for more. But hadn’t he been busy just a few moments ago.. Perhaps you’d read him wrong. — Suppose you could finish this drink and then head home. But you can barely get as much as another sip in before the seat next to yours becomes occupied. 

Through the corner of your eye you can easily make out his long dark hair, the faint smirk on his lips as he clasps his hands on the counter in front of him. For a moment, there’s an awkward silence hanging over the two of you. He doesn’t say anything as he gazes ahead, part of you wondered if he’d even come here with the intention of talking to you at all. 

You take another sip of your drink, desperate for the liquor to take effect. The man shifts in his seat, and you feel as though you were on fire when his head turns in your direction. Even with no words he managed to make your heart beat in a frenzy as you clutched your glass tightly. 

His dark and piercing gaze is unforgiving as it roams your figure, undoubtedly lingering where it shouldn’t. It was like he knew no shame. You should’ve told him off, you should’ve gotten up and left. For some reason you find yourself staring at him with equally invading eyes. 

“I haven’t seen you here before.” 

It’s the first time he speaks, his head falling to the side as he studies you. “You new around town?” His voice is smooth, clean of any stuttering or awkwardness. A small part of you envied how easily he seemed to be carrying himself. — You shake your head, “No.” 

The man raises an eyebrow, and you don’t stop him when he reaches for your drink. The rings around his fingers make a clanking sound against the glass as he takes it and brings it to his lips. “Then what? Not your crowd?” He asks before taking a sip, his eyes never leaving you. 

“No, I suppose not..” You gingerly admit, not wanting to highlight the fact that you were completely out of your element. But judging by the way he looked at you, his silent demeanor practically eating you alive, he probably knew that already. — He places your glass back down, gently pushing it back your way as he wordlessly encourages you to drink more. You don’t know why you oblige. 

He takes the opportunity of you sipping on your drink to introduce himself. “Choi Beomgyu”, he says, the smirk on his lips widening as he does. The name fit him, oddly enough. Perhaps it was a bad idea to give out your own name. He was a stranger, not to mention one that Kayla had specifically warned you about not long ago. Still, this man intrigued you beyond limits.. 

Beomgyu, as his name was, suddenly leaned closer and you could almost smell the liquor on his breath. “Come on dollface, you must have a name?” The nickname he so casually dropped made your stomach flip. — You tell yourself that this was just a game of his. Taking Kayla’s words into consideration, not to mention the fact that he had girls draped over him minutes ago, this wasn’t the first time he chatted someone up. You would not make a fool of yourself and fall for such cheap tricks. 

He’s silent as he waits for you to answer, but when you merely avoid his gaze and sip on your drink, he chuckles. The laugh is pulled from deep within his chest and it sounds raspy when it rolls off his tongue. Beomgyu leans back, running a hand leisurely through his long hair. “Hard to charm I see.” 

You don’t answer, but you can’t help but watch as he rests his elbows against the bartop, his finger dragging just below his bottom lip as he regards you with intrigue. — “Not your type?” You retort, your response coming out somewhat short. It was hard to fathom any reasoning behind his strange interest in you. 

“Far from it”, Beomgyu hums, though his glimmering eyes betray the words coming out of his mouth. The lower half of his face pulls into a lopsided grin, “But I’m not opposed to trying new things.” 

Your first instinct was to scoff, to tell him to fuck off back to wherever he’d emerged from. It’s strange. You find yourself completely unable to. Instead you push your nearly finished drink toward him once more, and Beomgyu takes it as he brings it to his lips. — If he wasn’t opposed to trying new things, then who says you weren’t either?” 

“Tell me your name.” 

His breath is hot on your neck, coming in short pants as he slams his hips against yours. The alleway is dark and vacant, shielding the two of you from prying eyes. Shoved against the brick wall, you’re pliant in his grasp as Beomgyu’s hands roam your body. With your skirt pushed high above your hips, the metal of his rings feel cool against your thighs as his fingers dig into your soft flesh. 

Was this a good idea? — It didn’t matter. Your nails rake along his shoulders, pulling him impossibly close. Beomgyu chuckles against the crock of your neck, his lips leaving sloppy kisses over your skin, pulling it between his teeth. 

This was so unlike anything you’d ever done before. Not that you were a prude, or anything of the sort. But something like this, in a place like this, where anyone could walk by and with a mere stranger no less.. Whatever. You figured he was just another promiscuous man with no other intentions than the last. You would use it to your advantage tonight, or at least so you thought. 

But for every kiss he placed against your body, for every quiet whisper of praise that slipped from his tongue, you found yourself slowly losing your last semblance of control. Beomgyu was not like any of your previous partners, he was new, exciting, exotic even. Something you’d never had before, and now that you’d gotten a small taste, you felt far from satisfied. 

Why did he want to know your name? Why did it matter if you were to never see one another after tonight? Still, his silent request is made clear when he presses your lips together in a feverish kiss. You gasp out at the feeling of his hard cock as it buries inside of your aching cunt, your thighs trembling as they remain wrapped around his waist. 

“Dollface”, he exhales into the kiss, his mouth warm and wet against yours. And when he pulls back for air, your dazed eyes meet his as you brace your hands on his chest. Licking your lips, you inhale slowly before finally giving out your name, your most vulnerable piece of information. 

He smirks, clearly thrilled by the admission. For a split second you wondered if you’d done the right thing. Perhaps it had all been one grave mistake. If it was, you weren’t given time to ponder it as he reconnets your lips, this time with a passion unlike anything you’d ever felt before. 

And that was exactly how you became infatuated with Choi Beomgyu.

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[jherbogf]

2 you

summary y/n has been in a complicated relationship with joe burrow for months. as he grows more distant and conflicted, she’s forced to confront her feelings and the uncertainty of their connection.

pairing joe burrow x fem!reader

words around 6.7k

inspired by 2 you, mariah the scientist

you had always been a woman of focus. your days were a blur of work. late nights and early mornings. it wasn’t glamorous, but you loved it. having your own money, your own freedom.

you could say one of your favorite things to do was going out with your girlfriends. sometimes, in the highest cincinnati spots. spots those who obviously were packed with players from the city’s most famous team: the cincinnati bengals.

in one of those night outs, your eyes crossed icy blue ones, which naturally, made your world turn differently.

joe burrow had that effect on people—his eyes, calm yet intense, always made her second guess her emotions. he wasn’t the kind of guy who wore his feelings on his sleeve. his smile, reserved for those who really knew him, often made her feel like she was still trying to figure him out. and for a while, you didn’t mind.

but over time, something shifted.

you first saw it after the bengals’ rough stretch of games. they were struggling—0-4 at the start of the season. and it weighed heavily on joe. at first, you made excuses for him. “he’s under a lot of pressure” you told yourself. “he’s focused on the game”. but as the weeks went on, it wasn’t just the stress of the game; it was something else. he started becoming more distant, not in the physical sense, but emotionally.

you noticed it during one of your quiet dinners. you had tried to start a conversation, something that used to come so naturally. but now, his answers were short, distracted, as if his mind was somewhere else. “maybe he’s tired”, so you thought.

you noticed the tension grew in small moments, too. the texts that went unanswered for hours. the way he avoided eye contact when you asked about his day. you didn’t push him for answers, but you also couldn’t ignore it. and still, you told yourself: “it’s just the season, he’s got a lot on his plate. he’ll come around”.

but it wasn’t just the season. and you knew it, deep down.

one evening, after another loss, you waited for joe at his place, like you constantly did.

the door opened, and he didn’t even look at you. he simply passed by, heading straight to the couch, still in his post-game conference clothes. you stood there for a moment, feeling the weight of the distance between you, the invisible wall that had been built over the past few weeks.

“how are you?” you asked. trying to be as careful as possible.

he didn’t answer at first, eyes glued to the TV as highlights from the game played. so you tried again, desperate for some closure. “joe?”

he looked up at you then. gaze distant, as though he wasn’t really seeing you. like you weren’t even there. “i’m fine,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “i just want to forget about it.”

you couldn’t stop herself. you desperate for closure, for something. “this season’s been pretty tough. i’m sorry”.

“yeah,” he replied, tone flat. he glanced at you, for a split second. barely acknowledging you. barely acknowledging your countless tries to get him to just talk to you.

you understood him. how could you not? but it was like he didn’t see you. didn’t see you trying to just help.

it stung, more than you cared to admit. you had been there for him through the losses, his recovery, the endless scrutiny. but now, you felt like you were being shut out.

you wondered if this what it always felt like, doubting your own self. you had to ask yourself whether you were being too much. if you were clinging to him, forcing something when he just wanted to be alone. but, were you? it for sure didn’t feel like you were. you couldn’t help but feel like you were always the one trying to break through, but he never let you in.

so, later that night, after the game was over and the house was silent, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. the uncertainty was eating away at you. “what is happening? you thought. joe had pulled back in a way that made you feel like you were chasing after something you could never quite reach.

and a few days later, as if on cue, it happened again.

you were sitting close to the sidelines at the bengals’ practice, waiting for joe to finish up. the tension in the air was thick—joe wasn’t just focused on the game, but on something else. as the team broke up, you waited for him in the same place, alongside mike gesicki’s and trey hendrickson’s wives, trying to catch his attention. he glanced at you, going back into the facility, probably to get washed up.

but you weren’t focusing on what he’d go after he went back there. you were focusing on how he he didn’t smile. didn’t forge any reaction at you. just one glance. and you could feel your heart slowly cracking, day by day.

you let it go, trying to enjoy the girls’ company until the players were out again. it worked, for about the 45 minutes time in between being happy, talking to them, and then feeling ashamed and like you didn’t belong in joe’s side, approaching his car in the parking lot.

“how’s the wrist?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but still with an edge of concern in your voice.

he shrugged, serious, emotionless. “it’s fine. just sore. nothing I can’t handle.”

“three empty phrases.” you thought. it was the same answer he’d given you every time, and every time it hurt more. he was shutting you out—shutting you out, just like he had done with everything else in his life. so you sighed, helpless and tired.

“i don’t know what’s going on with you,” you said, voice a little sharper than you had intended, moved by her feelings. “but i’ve been trying to be here for you, joe. don’t you get that?”— his eyes snapped to yours, hard and unyielding. it was the most emotion he had given you in months.

“i don’t need you to ‘be here for me,’ y/n,” he replied, his tone cutting. “i’m not your charity case. you’ve got your life. i’ve got mine. that’s it. don’t mix it up.”

you froze. the words stung like a slap. you felt the air leave your lungs. you didn’t know what was worse—the fact that he was pushing you away, or that he didn’t see how much you cared. you took a step back, heart pounding.

“maybe I’ve been too much,” you said, more to yourself than him. your voice trembled, but you didn’t let him see the hurt. you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction. “maybe I’ve asked for too much. but don’t you dare act like I’m not trying.” you told him, firmer.

joe didn’t respond. his face softened for a moment, but the distance between you only grew.

you knew that you were at a breaking point.

you had tried for so long to make things work, to be there for him, but it wasn’t enough. not when he couldn’t open up, not when he kept you at arm’s length. and you knew.

it didn’t surprise you that a few days later, after another devastating loss, joe was quiet. you sat beside him on the couch, your heart heavy with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid.

you needed to talk. you couldn’t just keep pretending.

“joe, we need to talk,” you said, voice gentle but firm. you were rightly putting yourself first this time. listening to yourself.

he didn’t even look at you. “i don’t feel like talking right now,” he muttered.

and your heart sank. “it’s always like this”, you thought. you had always been the one to initiate, the one to ask the hard questions. But he never answered. he never listened. he never gave you the time. he never even asked.

“you can’t just keep shutting me out,” you said, either way. “i’m not asking for much. but I need more than this. I need more than your silence. I need more than pretending everything’s fine.”

you knew. you knew you deserved more. you knew.

joe’s eyes finally met yours then, and there was something… cold in them. “you’re too much, y/n. always asking questions, always demanding more. I don’t have time for this. I don’t need someone breathing down my neck all the time.”

you couldn’t react. you were looking at the ground, blinking, eyes wide, mouth shut. it hit you like a tidal wave. you could hear your heart clinking. but it didn’t break like you thought you would. it was like someone had hit their nail on it, just to hear if it would make a sound.

you sat there for a moment, stunned. thinking, remembering all the times he shut you out. all the times he told you he didn’t need her concern. all the times he didn’t give even an ounce of the love you gave him back to you.

so you stood up. and you walked away. you weren’t sure what you were doing anymore, but you knew one thing for certain—you couldn’t keep being the one who tried to fix what was broken. you couldn’t be the one covered in dirt, couldn’t be the one whose heart clenched when a kid cudi song played.

you weren’t sure where things had gone wrong, but you knew you couldn’t keep pouring yourself into a relationship that drained you. the grief she felt, after her shock passed, wasn’t for joe and “what could’ve been”, but for herself. who almost lost her spark. who almost lost her own self, trying to fix him.

he was lost. he was unfocused. you were sure he hoped you wouldn’t notice, but you did. after all those times, you did. so you layed it in a grave. and you left.

left his apartment, physically, but his mess, emotionally. you didn’t know if he had called you, cause you weren’t really listening.

and as you drove away, you didn’t look back. focusing only on what was in front of you, reserved for you. not him.

[dollyfiles]

rafe cameron knows that it isn’t just LUST he feels for you

cw: mutual attraction, forbidden love, emotional betrayal, angst, inspired by the song “lust” by chase atlantic.. & for my sweet girl @vampteeths <33

the humid night air clung to like rafe a second skin as he leaned against the porch railing of tannyhill, eyes fixed on the distant shoreline. the party inside was roaring—a mix of drunken laughter, loud music, and the occasional sound of bottles clinking. his friends were there, drowning in excess, but rafe had slipped outside a while ago, needing to breathe.

the drugs numbed him most nights, but tonight, he felt restless. there was something clawing at his chest, something he couldn’t ignore. and then, as if the universe wanted to punish him, the person who haunted his thoughts, stepped outside.

you. he didn’t even have to turn to know who it was. he could always feel you before he saw you.

he had no idea when it started—this pull you had on him. maybe it was the night topper introduced you to the group, laughing and draping his arm over your shoulders like you were just another accessory. at first, rafe thought you were like every other girl that hung around—beautiful, fun, disposable.

but then you smiled at him, said his name like it mattered, like he mattered. and something inside him cracked. it wasn’t like the rush he got from a pill dissolving on his tongue or the high of a line burning through his veins. it was different. he didn’t crave you in a way he did with other girls. you were different. he just liked you.

and that terrified him.

“rafe,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the thick night air.

he didn’t dare to look at you right away. he couldn’t. he was afraid of what might show on his face if he did. instead, he focused on the waves crashing in the distance. “shouldn’t you be inside with top?” he asked, his tone carefully detached, though the words felt like poison in his mouth.

you shrugged, wrapping your arms around yourself against the cool breeze. “just don’t feel like it.”

finally, he looked at you. your eyes met his, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away. it always did when you looked at him like that, like you could see all the dark corners of his soul and weren’t afraid of them.

you were wearing one of those simple dresses you always seemed to favor, the kind that made you look effortlessly put together. your hair was loose, framing your face, and in the dim light of the porch, you looked almost ethereal.

“you’ve been quiet lately,” you said. your voice was gentle, but there was a weight to your words, like you knew he’d been spiraling. you stepped closer, and rafe’s entire body tensed. he wanted to tell you to stop, to go back inside, to leave him alone. but he didn’t. he never could with you.

rafe laughed, a bitter sound echoing across the porch. “quite’s not really my thing, is it?”

“not really.” you tilted your head, studying him in that way you always did, like you could see right through him. it daunted him, but it also made him feel seen in a way he never had before. “you don’t have to pretend with me, you know.”

he hated how much your words got to him. hated how much he wanted to believe them. “why are you here, y/n?” he asked, his voice low.

you hesitated, both of you knew it was risky. you knew it every time you caught each others gaze from across the room, every time your conversations stretched too long, your moments together lingering on the edge of something dangerous.

but then you stepped closer, so close that he could smell the faint hint of your sweet perfume. “i don’t know,” you admitted. “but i couldn’t stay in there. not with him. not tonight.”

your words hung in the air between the two of you, heavy with implication. rafe’s heart was pounding now, a hectic rhythm that matched the chaos in his head.

“this is wrong,” he said, but even as he said it, he didn’t move away. “i know,” you whispered, gaze dropping to the ground, and for a moment, you looked so vulnerable that it made his chest ache.

rafe ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling just underneath the surface. “i’m not… i’m not good at this. at feeling things. at caring.”

you tilted your head, gaze soft but steady. “you care more than you let on, rafe. you just don’t want to admit it.”

your words settled over him like a weight, and for once, he didn’t push them away. because you were right. he did care. he cared too much, and it scared the hell out of him.

“do you know how messed up this is?” he said, his voice raw. “you’re with topper. he’s my friend. and you’re… you’re you.”

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“it means i shouldn’t feel this way,” he sighed, his voice breaking. “i shouldn’t look at you and feel like you’re the only thing keeping me from falling apart.”

you bit your lip, just standing there in silence while rafe watched you. he wanted you to say it, to acknowledge what you were both pretending wasn't happening. rafe wanted to reach for you, to pull you close and tell you that none of it mattered, that he’d walk away from everything if it meant he could keep this—keep you. but he couldn’t. because no matter how badly he wanted you, he knew he wasn’t allowed to have you.

“i don’t get it,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “why are you even here? why me?”

you inched forward, so much he could see the faint freckles on your skin, the curve of your lips. “because i see you, rafe,” you said simply. “and i think you’re worth seeing.”

something inside him shattered then. he’d spent so long chasing highs, trying to fill the void with pills and powders and girls who didn’t mean anything. but you didn’t have to do anything. just being near you was enough.

“I don’t even need… I mean, I don’t—” he stumbled over his words, unsure how to explain what he felt. your eyes softened, and for a moment, you looked like you might cry. but you didn’t. instead, you reached out, your hand brushing against his cheek. it was the smallest touch, but it sent a shockwave through him.

rafe closed his eyes, simmering in your touch for a little while before softly grabbing your fragile wrist and putting it back, right next to your body. “you should go back inside,” he said finally, forcing the words out even though they felt like poison on his tongue.

you looked up at him, eyes shimmering with something he couldn’t quite name. for a moment, he thought you might argue, might tell him that you didn’t care about topper or the rules or how wrong it all was. but instead, you nodded.

“goodnight, rafe,” you said softly, your voice laced with a sadness that mirrored his own.

he watched you go, your figure disappearing into the glow of the party. and for the first time in a long time, rafe felt something other than numbness. it wasn’t comfort, exactly—it was too complicated, too messy for that—but it was something.

and as he stood there alone, staring out at the waves, he realized that you had become his new addiction. a dangerous one, maybe even more dangerous than the drugs. but unlike the pills and the powders, you made him feel alive.

tags: @vampteeths @rafesheaven @rafeysbangs @rafesbowbunny @rafesweetie @whinyangel @plaidcowboy @filthyrafe @figthoughts @littlelamy @fawnhart @rafesdollette @starzify @rafesangelita @cherrygirlfriend @ch6rm @inspiredangel @girlyrafe @rafespreciosa @gibson-g1rl @kissyrafe

[brawberryz]

You think i'm weird?

Damian Wayne × BatSis! Reader 《Platonic!》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

You had noticed that Damian was more distant than usual, his self-centered personality and confident tone had almost completely disappeared

You weren't stupid, you knew something was wrong, you were his older sister, maybe you had different mothers and were raised in different environments but that doesn't mean you didn't understand

You said you were going to confront him on the next patrol, you needed answers and as the excellent detective you were, you were going to get them

_

"Is there something bothering you?"

You said suddenly as the two of you sat in front of a building, it was the right time to talk, there was no one who could interrupt.

"What do you mean?"

Damian asked as if he didn't know what you meant.

"You're acting strange, like something was bothering you..."

You said as you stared at him, you knew something was wrong, maybe you didn't say it all the time but you cared too much for him, maybe sometimes you fought and it seemed like you wanted to kill each other and sometimes it was true, but still there was a part of your head that hated the idea that he, your brother, your little brother was in danger or sad.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Damian seemed to simply ignore the subject and want to change the conversation, your brow furrowed at such a response.

"I'm not stupid, Damian, tell me what's wrong? Did you fight with dad again or what?"

You sat a little closer to him, you were going to find out what was wrong with Damian even if it would take you a thousand years

"It's not that, it's just that..."

His voice trailed off in the middle of the sentence, he was hesitating to tell you, he seemed downcast, that wasn't the Damian you knew, he would never have doubted anything

"You... you think I'm weird?"

A laugh came out of your lips and you started laughing like crazy, Damian had never seen you laugh so much in his life as now

"WHAT ARE YOU MAKE FUN OF, STUPID!, ugh I knew I shouldn't tell you, you never take anything seriously"

Damian crossed his arms looking at you angrily, I didn't understand what was funny about the situation, he was telling you something personal and you just... you just laughed!?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! But seriously I've never heard anything so funny in my life"

You tried to stop laughing, you wiped away a tear that fell from your eye before you could speak

"Seriously you ask, of all people you ask me that?"

You said ironically looking at Damian, he just shrugged his shoulders and looked away

"Damian, we are vigilantes, there is nothing normal in our life, the strange thing would be if something was normal, you are literally the son of a very dangerous assassin and I am the daughter of a villain"

You let out a small laugh while saying that, but you saw that Damian's mood didn't change so you decided to get serious

"But hey, seriously, if you are weird but so what? We are all weird and you shouldn't be ashamed of that, I could say that I am weirder than you and I don't care"

Damian was surprised by your words, it was the first time he saw you talking seriously, he always thought you were too stupid and childish but what you just said really surprised him

"Thanks... I think"

"You're welcome, but don't be ashamed of being weird, let's be weird together, what do you think?"

You said giving him a smile as you put your arm around his shoulders and brought him closer to you, it was the first time you had gotten so emotionally close to Damian, you thought he hated you or something but apparently it was far from reality

"That... that's fine with me"

For a second you could see a small smile on Damian's face, that made your heart feel good

A few minutes passed before Damian spoke again

"You dare tell someone about this conversation and I'll cut your throat"

And there he was again the same old Damian, well at least those were the best minutes of your life before Damian went back to being Damian

"Whatever you say, Mr. weirdo"

You let out a laugh as you said those words

"I'M SERIOUS, YOU DARE TO TELL SOMEONE AND I'LL KILL YOU!"

Damian spoke angrily, punching you in the arm

"Hey! That's enough, but stop doing it... HEY, STOP IT, IT HURTS!!"

You shouted, trying to dodge Damian's punches. God, I think you missed the emo Damian...

I imagine the relationship between Damian and BatSis! Reader like that of gumball and anais, i love writing about them, they are so silly

(*^▽^)/★*☆♪

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.3

Chapter Three: The Air Buzzes Whenever You're Near

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck,

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: HEHEHEHEHE. Yes, this fic is basically a slice of life, low stakes, and all-around good vibes. Eventually, there will be some drama but nothing too heartbreaking… maybe… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Magnets by NIKI

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CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EARLY MORNING  

The soft hum of your phone vibrating roused you from the haze of sleep. Your eyes fluttered open, squinting against the dim light of the TV still playing softly in the background.  

Your hand instinctively reached out to grab your phone from where it had slipped to the floor beside the couch. As you shifted, something warm and solid tightened around your waist.  

Oh.  

Oh no.  

Your breath hitched as the realization settled over you like a weight. Pedro’s arm was draped across you, his body pressed against yours, radiating warmth. Your head had somehow found its way to the crook of his shoulder, and the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest against your side told you he was still asleep.  

Oh God.  

Carefully, you reached down to grab your phone without disturbing him. Your thumb brushed across the screen to silence the alarm, and you winced when you saw the time: 4:30 a.m. Far too early to be awake but late enough to question how this even happened.  

Your heart pounded as you tried to make sense of it. You’d been watching a movie—something quiet and low-energy, just as you’d requested. You vaguely remembered leaning back against the couch, your body growing heavier with sleep. But you hadn’t expected to wake up like this, tangled together like it was the most natural thing in the world.  

Pedro stirred slightly, a low hum escaping his lips as he adjusted his arm around you, pulling you even closer. Your breath caught, panic and something else—something warmer—bubbling to the surface.  

Do I move? Do I stay? Oh, this is bad. Or is it good? Your thoughts raced, but your body refused to cooperate, frozen in place as if the universe had hit pause on this moment.  

A faint smile tugged at Pedro’s lips, even in sleep. His face was softer like this, the usual teasing edge replaced by something peaceful. It wasn’t fair, you thought, how he managed to look so effortlessly handsome even now.  

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. Carefully, you began to shift, attempting to untangle yourself without waking him. But as soon as you moved, his arm tightened again, and this time, his eyes fluttered open.  

“Mm, what time is it?” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.  

You froze, caught in the act. “Uh, it’s... early. Like, really early.”  

Pedro blinked a few times, his gaze slowly focusing on you. And then, as if realizing the position you were both in, a sleepy grin spread across his face.  

“Well,” he murmured, his voice still thick and low, “this is a nice way to wake up.”  

Your cheeks burned. “I—uh, I didn’t mean to—”  

“Relax,” he interrupted softly, his eyes twinkling despite the early hour. “I’m not complaining.”  

You stared at him, caught between embarrassment and the inexplicable urge to laugh. “Pedro...”  

He stretched slightly, his arm finally loosening its hold on you, though he made no move to pull away entirely. “You fell asleep first,” he said, his tone teasing now. “I just... went with it.”  

You let out a soft huff of laughter, shaking your head. “This is so unprofessional,” you muttered, though there was no real weight behind the words.  

Pedro smirked, sitting up slightly but still close enough that you could feel his warmth. “Guess we’ll just have to keep it a secret,” he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Our little... accidental cuddle.”  

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you, curving into a smile. “You’re impossible,” you murmured.  

“And yet,” he countered, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your heart stumble, “here you are.”  

The air between you shifted then, the teasing fading into something quieter, something unspoken but undeniable. For a moment, neither of you moved, the world outside the suite forgotten.  

And then, because it felt safer than facing whatever this was, you stood, clutching your phone like a lifeline. “I need coffee,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze as you made your way to the kitchenette.  

Pedro watched you retreat into the kitchenette, his easygoing grin fading into something thoughtful. He stretched lazily, his hair still mussed from sleep, before following you at his own unhurried pace. 

You were already fussing with the hotel’s coffee machine when he appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame like he belonged there. “You know, you’re very intense about your coffee for someone who just woke up,” he teased, his voice warm and teasing.  

You startled slightly, glancing over your shoulder at him. “I need caffeine to survive this,” you muttered, your words a little too sharp, betraying just how tightly wound you felt.  

Pedro quirked an eyebrow. “This? What exactly is this?”  

You didn’t answer right away, turning your attention back to the machine and praying it would brew faster. “Nothing,” you said finally, though your tone was anything but convincing.  

He stepped further into the kitchenette, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he didn’t want to spook you. “Is it the early morning? Or... could it be that you’re stuck sharing a suite with me?”  

You froze, clutching the edge of the counter. His voice held that teasing lilt you’d come to associate with him, but there was something softer underneath it, something that made your stomach flip in a way you were trying very hard to ignore.  

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though your tone made it sound like you were anything but.  

Pedro chuckled, and the sound was low and warm, filling the small space between you. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”  

You turned to face him, your heart thudding in your chest. He was standing closer now, his dark eyes studying you with a mix of amusement and something else—something you couldn’t quite name.  

“I just—” you started, but the words stuck in your throat. How were you supposed to tell him that sharing a suite with him, waking up next to him, was a level of surreal you weren’t prepared for? That he wasn’t just Pedro to you; he was Pedro Pascal, your literal celebrity crush and the man who’d unintentionally been making your life both thrilling and impossibly complicated?  

“I’m just trying not to embarrass myself,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Pedro’s grin softened into something gentler, something almost fond. “You’re doing fine,” he said simply.  

Before you could respond, the coffee machine beeped, signaling it was done. You practically lunged for the cup, desperate for something—anything—to do with your hands.  

Pedro didn’t push you further, but as you handed him a mug of coffee without meeting his gaze, he murmured, “For what it’s worth, I like having you around.”  

Your heart gave a traitorous little leap at his words, but you forced yourself to nod, mumbling a quiet “Thanks” before retreating back into your room to get ready.  

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — DAY

The car ride to work was tense—at least for you. Pedro, of course, seemed completely unbothered, chatting with the driver and making the occasional attempt to draw you into the conversation. But all you could manage were one-word answers, your mind too busy overthinking everything about the morning.  

Once you arrived on set, you threw yourself into your work, doing your best to stay out of Pedro’s way. Which was easier said than done, considering he seemed to have made it his mission to seek you out every chance he got.  

“Hey, everything okay?” he’d ask in-between takes, his dark eyes scanning your face like he could read your thoughts.  

“Yep, totally fine,” you’d reply, before darting off to find something—anything—else to do.  

By lunchtime, you were exhausted. You slumped into a chair in the corner of the break area, picking at your food while scrolling aimlessly on your phone.  

“Who are you hiding from?” Daisy’s voice cut through your thoughts, startling you. She plopped down in the chair across from you, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth as she gave you a curious look. “You’ve been acting weird all morning.”  

“No one,” you said quickly, maybe too quickly, because Daisy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.  

“Oh, really?” she drawled, leaning forward with a knowing smirk. “Does this have anything to do with a certain actor you spent the night with?”  

Your face went hot, and you nearly choked on your drink. “I—what? No! It’s not like that!”  

Daisy’s smirk only grew. “Uh-huh. Sure. You’re just blushing like crazy for no reason.”  

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “It’s complicated, okay?”  

“It doesn’t have to be,” Daisy said lightly, leaning back in her chair. “Pedro seems pretty into you, you know.”  

Your head shot up, your eyes wide. “What?”  

She shrugged, biting into another piece of fruit. “I’m just saying, he keeps looking at you like you hung the moon. It’s cute, really.”  

You shook your head, trying to brush off her words, but the flutter in your chest told you it wasn’t that simple.  

And as if on cue, Pedro walked into the break area, his gaze immediately landing on you. He smiled, that easy, disarming smile that made your knees weak, and started making his way over.  

“Oh my God,” you muttered under your breath, sinking lower into your chair.  

“Good luck,” Daisy whispered with a grin, grabbing her tray and leaving you alone just as Pedro reached your table.  

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm and casual, as if he hadn’t just sent your heart into overdrive. “Mind if I join you?”  

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but all that came out was a soft, barely audible, “Sure.”  

Pedro sat down across from you, his eyes twinkling with that same unreadable expression that always made you feel like he knew something you didn’t.  

“So,” he said, resting his chin in his hand as he leaned forward slightly. “Why have you been avoiding me all day?”  

And just like that, your heart was racing again, because of course he noticed. Of course he did.  

Pedro’s question lingered in the air, heavy with curiosity and a touch of concern. He tilted his head slightly, watching you like he had all the time in the world to wait for your response. His fingers drummed idly against the table, a subtle rhythm that matched the uneven beat of your heart.  

“I… Um…” you stammered, feeling like your words were stuck somewhere in your throat.  

Pedro’s brow furrowed, and his expression softened. “Did I make you uncomfortable last night?” he asked, his voice quiet and laced with genuine worry. “I’m so sorry if I did—”  

“No, no,” you interrupted, your voice rushing out faster than your brain could keep up. You waved your hands slightly, as if trying to erase the idea entirely. “I didn’t mind. It’s just—”  

You trailed off, feeling the weight of his gaze. Pedro didn’t push, didn’t fill the silence with reassurances or jokes like he usually did. He simply waited, his head still resting on his hand, his warm brown eyes encouraging you to keep going.  

Taking a deep breath, you clenched your hands together in your lap, as if grounding yourself. “I’m just… I can’t believe you really want me around,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Like you actually want to be friends with me. It seems so…”  

“Unreal?” Pedro finished for you, his lips curving into a soft smile.  

You nodded, biting your lip. “Exactly. Unreal. I mean, you’re you—a ridiculously talented actor, charming, funny, and so... well, famous. And I’m just... me. I keep waiting for the moment you’ll realize I don’t belong in your world.”  

Pedro blinked at you, his expression flickering between surprise and something deeper—something that made your chest ache in a way that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.  

He sat up straight, his hand reaching across the table, stopping just short of yours. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice pulling you out of your spiral. “First of all, you’re not just anything. You’re smart, talented, funny as hell, and honestly, one of the most grounded people I’ve ever met. That’s a big deal in this industry, you know.”  

You looked up at him, startled by the earnestness in his tone. “Pedro…”  

“And second,” he continued, leaning a little closer, “I do want you around. Not because of some weird celebrity power imbalance or whatever you think this is. I want you around because you make my days better. You make me laugh. You make everything feel... lighter.”  

The lump in your throat grew, and you had to look away before your emotions spilled over completely. You focused on the half-eaten piece of fruit on your plate, blinking rapidly. “You don’t have to say that,” you murmured.  

“I’m not saying it because I have to,” he replied, his voice firm but gentle. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”  

When you finally dared to meet his eyes again, you saw nothing but sincerity staring back at you. It was the kind of sincerity that made your carefully constructed walls feel like they were made of paper.  

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice soft but steady.  

Pedro smiled then—a real, heart-stopping smile that lit up his entire face. “Okay,” he echoed, sitting back in his chair with a satisfied nod.  

The tension between you eased, replaced by something warmer, something fragile but promising. And for the first time all day, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, Pedro saw something in you worth sticking around for.  

“Now,” he said, breaking the moment with a playful grin, “can we please talk about how you were about to burn that coffee machine this morning? Because I have questions.”  

You groaned, rolling your eyes as he chuckled, the sound wrapping around you like a familiar melody. And just like that, the world felt a little less overwhelming, and Pedro felt a little more like home.  

The afternoon passed in a blur of tasks, and now, you found yourself walking toward the makeup trailer, your phone clutched tightly in your hand as you prepared to fetch Pedro for his next scene.  

You knocked lightly before stepping inside, the scent of hairspray and setting powder filling the air. Pedro was lounging in the makeup chair, eyes closed as Andrea Cracknell, the key hair and makeup supervisor, gave his hair a final tousle. Suzanne Harper, one of the main hair and makeup artists, was touching up the edges of his beard with careful precision.  

The warm glow of vanity bulbs cast a golden hue over his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the soft crinkles near his eyes.  

Dara Hannon, the daily hair and makeup trainee, glanced up and grinned as you stepped in. “Ah, there’s our favorite ray of sunshine,” she said, setting down a brush. “You always look so put together. How do you do it?”  

You laughed, heat creeping up your neck. “Trust me, I don’t. I just hide it well.”  

“She doesn’t need to hide anything,” Pedro murmured, cracking one eye open. His voice was smooth, laced with something teasing but warm. “She’s effortlessly stunning.”  

You felt your brain short-circuit.  

From across the room, Samanta, one of the junior makeup artists, let out a low whistle. “Damn, Pedro. You don’t hold back, do you?”  

Chloë Pyne—one of the main team hair and makeup artists—smirked, tilting her head as she studied you. “He’s right, though. You have one of those naturally pretty faces. Like, the kind that doesn’t need much makeup.”  

Pedro hummed in agreement, his gaze lingering on you a beat too long. “See? Told you.”  

You waved them off, suddenly very interested in the floor. “Okay, okay—enough. I came to get you, not to hear you guys exaggerate.”  

Pedro grinned. “We’re not exaggerating. You just don’t take compliments well.”  

“I take them fine,” you mumbled, eyes darting anywhere but him.  

He chuckled, stretching his arms as he stood from the chair, towering over you. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered, you know that?”  

Your stomach flipped, and you wanted to sink into the ground. “Pedro—”  

He smirked, leaning in slightly. “Yes?”  

You huffed, turning on your heel. “Come on, you’re needed on set.”  

Pedro chuckled behind you, his footsteps light and easy as he followed. Just before you stepped out of the makeup trailer, his hand brushed against your arm—barely there, a whisper of contact—but it sent a ripple of heat up your spine. You swallowed hard, pretending not to notice, pretending your stomach wasn’t doing ridiculous little flips at the way his presence lingered so close behind you.  

By the time you reached the sound stage, the energy on set had shifted.  

“There she is!” Vanessa beamed the second she spotted you, setting her script down to stride over. “Finally. The only competent person around here.”  

You snorted. “I think that’s an insult to literally everyone else.”  

Vanessa grinned. “And yet, somehow, they’ll survive.”  

Before you could respond, Joseph and Ebon chimed in from where they were going over their lines.  

“Thank God, I thought Pedro kidnapped you,” Joseph teased, crossing his arms with a smirk. “We were about to send a search party.”  

Ebon shook his head. “Nah, he would’ve kept her hidden all day.” He gave Pedro a pointed look. “You’ve been hovering.”  

Pedro scoffed. “I don’t hover.”  

Vanessa snorted. “You so do.”  

You stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish, unsure how to defend yourself—or Pedro, for that matter—when another familiar voice called out.  

“Ah, the prodigal assistant returns!”  

You turned to see Jess Hall, the first AD, grinning as he strolled over, script in hand. “Seriously, where have you been? I swear the set runs smoother when you’re around.”  

“I… I’ve been doing my job?” you offered weakly.  

Jess huffed a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, keep being humble, we love that.”  

Before you could protest, Matt—the director—walked up, arms crossed, surveying the growing crowd around you with an arched brow.  

“So…” he mused. “Am I missing something? Because the way everyone gravitates toward you makes me think you might actually be running this set.”  

You blinked. “Uh—no? I mean, I just… I don’t know, I just do my job like everyone else.”  

Matt squinted at you like he didn’t quite buy that, but he just hummed and glanced at Pedro. “You keeping her distracted, or is she keeping you distracted?”  

Pedro grinned. “Bit of both.”  

Your brain stalled.  

Matt shook his head, muttering something about actors before waving a hand. “Alright, let’s go, people. Back to work before I regret hiring all of you.”  

As the cast dispersed, Pedro leaned in, voice low, warm. “See? Told you everyone likes you.”  

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as Pedro’s laughter rumbled beside you, rich and warm.  

“Why are you like this?” you muttered, voice muffled against your palms.  

He tilted his head, smirking. “Like what?”  

“You know what.”  

Pedro simply grinned, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, as if he wasn’t single-handedly unraveling your ability to function like a normal human being.  

There was a steady thrum in the air whenever he was close—something neither of you acknowledged but both of you felt. It was impossible not to.  

It crackled between you when you stood side by side, almost magnetic.  

And when your fingers brushed, even just for a second? Electric.  

You pulled your hand away as if burned, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way you tensed. But of course, he did. Pedro always noticed. His gaze flickered down to where your hands had been, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.  

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing. “Someone might think you like me or something.”  

You sucked in a sharp breath and, without thinking, smacked his arm.  

Pedro just laughed, dodging the second playful hit you aimed at him before finally relenting, his hands raised in surrender.  

“Alright, alright, I’ll behave,” he promised, though his smirk said otherwise.  

With a final glare, you turned and threw yourself into work, desperate for some sense of normalcy.  

The next few hours passed in a blur of controlled chaos—wardrobe changes, prop resets, last-minute adjustments. You did your job like clockwork, moving through set with practiced efficiency. Fetching cast members, tracking schedule updates, and ensuring things ran as smoothly as possible.  

Your friends worked nearby, their presence grounding you amidst the constant hum of production. But despite the familiarity of routine, you felt off-kilter.  

Every time you caught sight of Pedro—laughing with the cast, deep in conversation with Matt, even just sitting between takes, flipping through a script—your stomach did that thing.  

The stupid fluttery thing.  

By the time filming wrapped for the day, you were both exhausted and wired, your brain still buzzing with the day’s events.  

You found yourself huddled in a loose circle with some of the PAs and crew, all of you packing up while chatting, the easy rhythm of conversation filling the space.  

Daisy elbowed you playfully. “So, how’s your day been? You seemed a little… frazzled earlier.”  

You cleared your throat, focusing very intently on coiling a stray cable. “Just… tired.”  

Jordan snorted into his coffee. “You’re such a bad liar.” He raised a brow. “Let me guess—Pedro?”  

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.  

The entire group cackled.  

“Yeah, thought so.”  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you grumbled, hugging your clipboard to your chest like it might somehow shield you from their knowing smirks.  

“Oh, sure,” Lucy drawled, her smirk downright devious. “It’s not like the man literally gravitates toward you every chance he gets.”  

“That’s just how he is!” you argued, feeling heat creep up your neck.  

Daisy hummed, unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Sure.”  

“You guys are insufferable.” You crossed your arms, trying and failing to suppress your flustered expression.  

Jordan held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. We’ll drop it. For now.”  

As the conversation flowed, the tension you’d been holding onto all day slowly unwound. Someone cracked a joke about a prop malfunction earlier, and you found yourself laughing, the sound blending into the hum of easy chatter around you.  

“Okay, but did you see the way the fake blood exploded everywhere?” Daisy wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes.  

Jordan shook his head, still grinning. “Poor props department. That cleanup looked brutal.”  

Lucy snickered. “I swear, Matt almost had a stroke.”  

You smiled, the stress of the day fading into the background. It was moments like this that made the long hours worth it—these small pockets of joy, of shared experiences.  

Then, like clockwork, he entered the periphery of your awareness.  

Pedro’s laughter rang out from somewhere behind you, low and familiar. The sound curled through your chest like a flickering ember, and before you could stop yourself, you turned slightly—just enough to catch sight of him.  

He was leaning against one of the equipment carts, deep in conversation with Matt, a lopsided smile playing on his lips. But then, as if he could sense you looking, his gaze flicked up—searching, landing squarely on you.  

And suddenly, it was just the two of you.  

Your breath hitched.  

Pedro’s smile softened, his eyes crinkling just slightly at the corners. He lifted a brow, like he knew exactly what was running through your mind.  

You tore your gaze away, your face burning, heart hammering against your ribs.  

“Yup. She’s gone,” Jordan muttered, loud enough for only the group to hear.  

You smacked his arm. “Shut up.”  

Daisy cackled. “Oh my God, you’re so screwed.”  

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands as the laughter around you grew.  

Maybe you were screwed.  

Because, try as you might to ignore it, that pull—the steady thrum of something unspoken, something undeniable—was getting harder and harder to resist.

You quickly said goodbye to your friends as they boarded the shuttle back to their hotel, the last remnants of laughter lingering in the air. The set had mostly cleared out, leaving only a few crew members finishing up and the cast slowly trickling out of their trailers. You tucked your arms around yourself, the night air cool against your skin as you waited for the others, your thoughts still buzzing from the day.  

Then—warm hands.  

A firm, sudden weight against your back.  

You barely had time to process it before you were lifted off the ground.  

A startled squeal left your lips as Pedro spun you effortlessly, laughter rumbling in his chest. “Gotcha,” he murmured near your ear, his voice thick with amusement.  

“Pedro!” you gasped, swatting at his hands, but you couldn’t help the breathless laugh that followed.  

He finally set you down, his arms still loosely around your shoulders, and when you turned to glare up at him, he had the audacity to grin—full, boyish, utterly unrepentant.  

“You didn’t even hear me coming,” he teased, giving your shoulders a playful squeeze before finally stepping back.  

“You ambushed me,” you huffed, pressing a hand to your racing heart. “I almost had a heart attack.”  

Pedro smirked. “I’d apologize, but your little scream was too cute.”  

Your face burned. “You’re insufferable.”  

Before he could respond, you heard stifled giggles from nearby.  

You glanced up just in time to spot Coco, Vanessa, Joseph, and Ebon approaching, all of them watching the scene unfold with varying degrees of amusement.  

“Oh, don’t stop on our account,” Vanessa quipped, smirking.  

Coco nudged Joseph with her elbow, grinning. “Are we interrupting something?”  

Pedro, ever the shameless one, just threw an arm around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Not at all,” he said easily, then glanced down at you with a teasing glint in his eye. “Unless you think we were?”  

You glared at him, resisting the urge to shove him away—because knowing him, he’d just make a bigger scene.  

Instead, you turned to the group, feigning exasperation. “Can someone please save me from him?”  

Ebon just laughed, shaking his head. “Nope. You’re on your own, kid.”  

Your stomach did an unfair little flip as Pedro pulled you closer, his warmth seeping into you despite the cool night air.  

And the worst part?  

You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to be saved.  

Pedro’s arm was still draped lazily around your shoulders, his body warm against yours, the scent of his cologne lingering—something woodsy, something undeniably him. You willed yourself to ignore the way your pulse picked up, to pretend your skin wasn’t tingling from the casual intimacy of it.  

Vanessa arched a brow, arms crossed as she watched the two of you with blatant amusement. “What are you doing just standing out here?” she asked, tilting her head. “You could’ve knocked at my trailer.”  

You blinked, shifting slightly beneath Pedro’s hold. “I, uh—” You cleared your throat. “I didn’t have your guys’ numbers, so I just thought I’d wait near the trailers.”  

Coco gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “You mean none of us thought to give you our numbers?” She turned to the others, looking genuinely offended. “What kind of monsters are we?”  

Ebon chuckled. “Okay, okay, let’s fix this.” He pulled out his phone and waggled it in front of you. “Give me your number, we’ll add you to the group chat.”  

You hesitated, suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed. You had kept a certain level of professional distance with the cast—sure, you’d exchanged pleasantries, worked alongside them, shared the occasional laugh—but this? Being included like this?  

Pedro, still pressed close, must have sensed your hesitation because he squeezed your shoulder lightly, his voice softer this time. “Told ya,” he murmured, just for you. “We like having you around.”  

Your chest tightened.  

Before you could overthink it, you rattled off your number, and within seconds, your phone buzzed with a message from an unfamiliar group chat.  

Coco grinned. “Welcome to the chaos.”  

Joseph laughed, shaking his head. “You have no idea what you just signed up for.”  

You looked down at your phone, at the flood of messages already rolling in—Vanessa sending a series of emojis, Ebon dropping a meme, Pedro sending a voice note that was probably nonsense.  

A warmth spread through you.  

Maybe you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to be saved.  

But you were sure of one thing.  

You didn’t mind being pulled deeper into this.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EVENING

Turns out, everyone was exhausted. Some opted for room service, others had plans to meet up with friends in the city. The once lively group slowly dwindled, leaving you and Pedro lingering near the car.

Without a word, he reached for your bag, slinging it over his shoulder like it was second nature.

You blinked up at him. “Pedro—”

“I got it,” he said easily, already heading toward the car.

You huffed but didn’t argue, too tired to put up much of a fight.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet, the streets of London painted in golden hues from the setting sun. Pedro, ever so casually, turned to you.

“Do you wanna go out for dinner?” he asked. “Or we could just order room service.”

You shrugged, watching the buildings blur past the window. “I don’t mind either way. It’s up to you.”

Pedro hummed as if considering his options, but he didn’t push for an answer right away.

When you arrived at the hotel, the two of you walked through the dimly lit hallway to your floor. The plush carpet muffled your steps, the air between you thick with something unspoken—comfortable, warm, charged.

At your door, you kicked off your shoes, swapping them for the soft hotel slippers. Pedro did the same, toeing off his boots before setting your bag down on the small table in the suite’s living area.

“You didn’t have to carry that, you know,” you told him, watching as he stretched his arms above his head, his shirt riding up slightly.

He smirked, that lazy, insufferably charming smirk. “I didn’t have to,” he echoed. “But I wanted to.”

Your stomach did a flip.

You swallowed, folding your arms as if that might steady you. “Well… thanks.”

He shot you a wink. “Anytime, cariño.”

After flipping through the room service menu, you both settled on an easy dinner—something warm and filling without the hassle of going out. Quickly calling the food service on the landline, the order was placed, and as you sank into the plush couch, stretching your legs, you sighed.  

"During the weekend, I’ll probably go grocery shopping," you mused aloud. "Ordering room service and eating out every day is going to burn through my savings if I keep this up." You glanced at Pedro. "So, I’ll stock up on food in the pantry if I’m still, y'know… here. In your suite."  

Pedro, who had been casually leaning against the armrest of the couch, stilled. His expression shifted from amused to something unreadable. "Why?" His brows furrowed. "Where are you going?"  

You blinked at him, confused for a second. "Uh… the front desk said they might have a room for me by next week, remember?"  

"Oh." His lips parted slightly, but he didn't say anything else.  

You watched the way his fingers tapped idly against his knee, as if the thought of you moving out hadn’t quite registered until now. There was something oddly endearing about the way his frown deepened. Like he didn’t like the idea of you not being here anymore.  

Before you could think too much about it, you cleared your throat, shifting the conversation. "Anyway," you said lightly, folding your arms over your chest, "you guys did great today on set."  

Pedro’s eyes flickered back to yours, and just like that, his easy grin returned.  

"Yeah?" He leaned in slightly, resting his forearm against the back of the couch, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Any specific compliments, or just a general ‘you guys did great’ kind of thing?"  

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched at his teasing. "Oh, I definitely had specific compliments." You tapped your chin, pretending to think. "Vanessa was incredible, Joseph absolutely killed his scene, Ebon had amazing delivery—"  

Pedro gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Wow. So, I just… I don’t even make the list?"  

You bit back a laugh. "I mean… you were fine."  

"Fine?" he repeated, eyes narrowing playfully.  

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Serviceable. Passable. Not bad."  

Pedro let out an exaggerated groan, throwing his head back against the couch. "Unbelievable. Here I was, thinking you were my biggest fan."  

You giggled, nudging his knee with your foot. "You’ll survive."  

He peeked at you from beneath his lashes, a slow smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I guess I will."  

The warmth in his voice made your breath hitch. You quickly looked away, pretending to check your phone as the sound of the hotel staff knocking on the door saved you from whatever moment you’d just stumbled into.  

Pedro stood up to grab the food, but not before murmuring, just low enough for you to hear—  

"But it’d be a hell of a lot easier if you stuck around."  

And just like that, the butterflies were back.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — LATE NIGHT  

The scent of warm food filled the suite as you both settled onto the couch, the soft glow of the television flickering against the dimly lit room. Pedro had absentmindedly put on a movie, something familiar and easy to watch—though neither of you seemed particularly focused on it. The conversation flowed naturally between bites of food, soft laughter filling the quiet spaces in between.  

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Pedro asked, “So… no special someone waiting for you back home?”  

You froze mid-bite, your fork hovering near your lips. It wasn’t the question itself that threw you off—it was the way he asked it. Casual, like it was just another topic of conversation, but there was something in his voice. A quiet curiosity. A weight that made your stomach flip.  

You swallowed and shook your head. “Nope,” you said simply. “It’s just me.”  

Pedro hummed, nodding slowly as he chewed. “Huh.”  

You raised an eyebrow, setting your plate down on the coffee table. “What’s that supposed to mean?”  

He smirked, tilting his head toward you. “Nothing. Just surprised.”  

You scoffed. “Surprised how?”  

He took his time answering, setting his own plate aside before stretching his arm along the back of the couch. His fingers drummed lightly against the cushion behind you, close enough that if you leaned back just a little, you’d brush against them.  

“I don’t know.” He exhaled, gaze flickering to the screen before finding you again. “You’re funny, smart, kind—"  

Your eyes narrowed. “Sounds like you’re about to say something insulting.”  

Pedro laughed, shaking his head. “I was gonna say, I just don’t get how someone like you is single.”  

A warmth crept up your neck, and you quickly picked up your drink, taking a long sip to avoid answering right away. Your heartbeat thrummed a little too fast, a little too loud.  

“I don’t know,” you murmured finally, voice quieter now. “Relationships just… never worked out for me, I guess.”  

Pedro studied you for a moment, his usual playful expression softening. He didn’t push, didn’t ask for more. Instead, he just nodded, accepting your answer without prying.  

And then—because the air was starting to feel too heavy—you smirked. “What about you? No special someone waiting for you?”  

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Nah. It’s just me, too.”  

Your lips twitched. “Well, that is surprising.”  

Pedro groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the couch. “Oh, come on—”  

You laughed, nudging his leg with your foot. “I’m just saying! You’re charming, talented, kind of a big deal—”  

“Kind of?” He placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense.  

You grinned. “Kind of.”  

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath about how unbelievable you were, but there was a smile playing at his lips.  

And just like that, the weight in the air lightened again, the conversation slipping back into something easy. The movie played on, mostly forgotten, and the two of you sat there, side by side—closer than before, shoulders brushing every now and then.  

Neither of you moved away.

End Notes:

OOOOOHHHH?!?! Things are heating up??? Or maybe it’s literally nothing at all and it’s all in your head 😃✊

OOF— you might stop sharing the suite at the end of the week? Oh naur T^T

Thank you all for the lovely words and comments that ya’ll keep leaving on each chapter. It warms my heart and gives me fuzzy feelings that make me dizzy AAAAAAHHH

Mfs, I’m posting this while I’m outside at a club LOL

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy

[from-the-owls-nest]

mhm. what if you're too broken, in too tiny pieces, even the base too shattered to rebuild from. what if there's too little good left.

*swallow* that... that probably wasn't the most helpful answer. but I know what you mean. and I don't really have a fix or anything.

*drily, like, ironically* should probably clarify that the you in that first sentence meant me and just me. so. before you get any more ideas. because of course for Me that's Different! At least for my chaos brain tangles.

[ooc: Philosophy Below. idk brain ran away with thoughts call me if u find it /silly]

*silence, thinking over the words again* I don't know. All I can hope is that - that sentence from the movie Aria likes. When we can see no future, all we can do is the next right thing. the next little ray of sunlight. the next little moment of peace.

And if none of that is possible... Wait, and hold on, and look for them, and hope they come back soon. This is just my thoughts - my little agreement with myself. I gotta try the best I can, even if the best I can is a break from trying to recover. And then I'll know that Past Me did their best for me now and that I owe it to Future me to do my best for what they might become. Even if they weren't very successful. Like deciding that however I am right now is me too, and so I am all these things and parts, the good and the rough ones, and they all together make the full me. It's these nice little shortcut across the self blaming and infighting that take a long time to work out but help wherever they hold.

But like. I think I owe it my future self to hold on, and to get through the storms. Our past selves have come such a long way, and who knows where we'll go next, what our future selves and lives might be like. So like. I do think that new paths open up all the time, possibilities. Even if the ones now are all bad, who knows where we can still go. And the only way to find out is to try, and to do our best.

*they pull out their diary, and from the front a little calendar page* Look. I... It's one of these pages I'll keep forever and ever because I need the reminder, and give to others when they might need it. I don't know if it's right. I hope so. and I think the only way to find out is to try and hold on.

For me that's enough. That, little hopes, little good moments, even just the memory of warmth and hope and the knowledge that all that was once can come again - in different forms, maybe, but it can. *turning to lay it next to Will's sneaker*

*more silence* But. Well. That's really big thoughts, and hard to see when everything is so dark. Hm. okay just to throw some thoughts out. You don't have to tell me, you don't have to think about it, just... some ideas. Little windows into that maybe, whenever you're able to look.

what do the voices say? can they maybe be talked to, or be both a little right?

is there anything you wish wouldn't stop? or come back? any little thing. ignore realism and context all that. if you were playing make-believe, your own little world, what would it look like? if you want to we can take turns. I play that game regularly cause, well, bad memory, and i probably should start again.

and... does it have to be a *bad* hurt? like. yes. you're different. stuff happened, and it changed you, and that really really hurt. you might not be the same person as before. is that a bad thing? or, you said nasty. sure. right now it's raw and painful and doesnt fit yet. but... could all these little shards grow back together and become something scarred and mended, and different?

I hope they could. I'd really miss you - not you from before, you however you are right now and however you want to be. Idk doesn't make much sense but - people if they change are still that person, right? just... changed, by a situation or because they got to know themselves better or whatever. Like Butterflies. I'd like to see the next chapter, with you if you want or just knowing there was one for you.

Image Credit @thelatestkate and her website

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

[lovecla]

FAVORITE KIND OF NIGHT ; HUGHES, SLAFKOVSKÝ

PAIR jack hughes x fem!reader, quinn hughes x fem!reader, juraj slafkovský x fem!reader, ex-cole caufield x fem!reader

SUMMARY when you found out your boyfriend of two years had been cheating on you the entire time, you do what every girl does when they get cheated on: you fuck his best friends.

WORD COUNT 5,5k

WARNINGS taboo content, cheating, foursome (f/m/m/m), p in v, unprotected sex, degradation, mention of stomach bulge, creampie, double p in v, rough sex, manhandling, dirty talk, humiliation, subspace, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), gagging, dacryphilia, brief aftercare.

FROM ME TO YOU my loves, listen to your clara very carefully: if you do not agree with ANY of what’s written here, please consider not reading. this is just a silly idea i had a few days ago and i wanted to write about it. i have zero intentions of offending anyone: this is pure fiction! none of this is real! anyways, thank you @cyberhughes for listening to my naughty thoughts about this plot and for having my back. love you juni baby, this one’s for you <3 and for those who are still here, have a nice reading!

𖧷

on that lonely night, said it wouldn't be love

but we felt the rush (fell in love)

it made us believe it was only us

THE THING about being a hockey girlfriend is that you will, most certainly, get cheated on.

When you first heard that, you thought it was just bullshit— not all men are the same and all of that. Some people were just unfortunate to have shitty boyfriends, but not you.

Or at least that’s what you thought before watching a viral video of your boyfriend of two years kissing three different girls at a party.

The video was blurry, and maybe if you were a little bit more naive, you wouldn’t have noticed that the man eating those girls’ lips was, in fact, Cole Caufield, the man you swore to be the love of your life.

“Maybe it’s not him, Y/n,” your friend said, voice soft and gentle, as she put your phone down and locked it. “Cole wouldn’t do that… right?”

Right, you want to say. Of course he wouldn’t do that.

But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to lie and betray your own trust. You sat there, on your couch, thinking about what you were going to do.

Your relationship was public, Cole had already posted pictures of you several times over the years, but now, so was the fact that he cheated on you with not just one girl, but with two more.

Now, everyone knows that you got cheated on, and that you weren’t an exception to the Hockey rule.

“‘s okay,” you sniff, cleaning your nose with your sweater’s sleeve. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t, really, but what else could you do?

Truth is, even though you love— loved?— Cole a lot, you had been feeling a little bit weird. Cole didn’t seek you anymore, he didn’t look at you the same way he used to do when you first started dating.

You thought it was just the fact that he was tired and feeling responsible for his team’s recklessness, but clearly, it wasn’t just that.

Days passed after the terrible, awful video, and even though you hadn’t spoken to Cole in probably two weeks— he was away and you couldn’t bring yourself to answer his texts—, you wanted to break things up with him in person.

“Why would you do that?” Your friend asked over the phone, and you sighed.

“Because I’m better than he is,” you say. “And because I need to get closure.”

“I guess you’re right,” she sighs, and then she’s quiet for a few seconds. But, “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” You ask, rolling to your side. “What is it?”

“There’s going to be a party at Zegras’ place tonight,” she says. “Heard Cole shit ass is going.”

“Who told you that?”

“I was talking to one of his new buddies, and he invited me to the party. Said I could go if I kept my mouth shut to you,” she scoffed. “I thought about telling him to hell and then telling him to fuck himself but I thought it might be more useful to pretend I wasn’t going to tell you anything and then tell you everything.”

You chuckled. “Yeah. We’re going, then?”

“We so are going,” she giggles. “I’ll bring the eggs.”

“I’ll bring the flour.”

𖧷

THE PARTY looked more like a frat party than anything, which lowkey disgusted you.

You knew the majority of the players were young and still in their teenager mindset, but whenever you went to a party, it usually had more decorum than whatever this was.

The music was so loud you couldn’t hear your friend talking next to you. People were grinding against each other like they were in heat and ready to fuck in front of everyone, and the room had a strong smell of marijuana and cheap beer.

You rolled your eyes but focused on your reason to be there: find Cole, break up with him and maybe even embarrass him in front of all of his friends.

You tried to warn your friend about where you were going, but since the music was too loud, you just signaled to the door on your right. She nodded, and you moved around the room, feeling with your feet the way the floor shook with the song’s thrumming.

Fortunately, you didn’t have to walk much. Cole’s stupid ass seemed to have forgotten to close his room’s door, and now you were staring at the 5’8” man you thought was going to be the father of your kids, kissing another girl.

“So, this looks really fun, huh?” You said, closing the room’s door, and suddenly, all of the eyes were on you. Cole’s included.

“Y-Y/n, what,” he stutters, removing the girl from his lap and getting up. “What are you doing here, baby?”

“No, what are you doing here?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, feeling yourself start to burn with anger. “Weren’t you supposed to be in New York?”

“No, you see—”

“Is your name New York, sweetie?” You ask the girl who was previously kissing him, who looks like a scared, little kitten. Little does she know you’re not going after her— you couldn't care less about her. “Uh, I guess not.”

There were at least eight other people in the room, sitting there and goofing around. But now, all of them looked like they would pay a hundred thousand bucks not to be in Cole’s shoes.

“Y/n—” he tries again, reaching for your arm.

You step back, flinching away from his touch. “Don’t fucking touch me, Cole. You’re fucking sick. I hope y’all have fun,” you hiss, turning around and heading towards the room’s door again. You look over your shoulder, watching Cole’s sorrowful face. “Enjoy as much as you can, darling. I know his dick won’t make you happy.”

You leave the room with fast steps, not before hearing Cole’s so-called friends laugh out loud with your words. You could feel yourself burning with anger, which made you happy. You thought you were going to feel destroyed, sad and depressed when you confronted him about the fact that he cheated on you regularly.

But after seeing his pathetic expression and actions, you realised you weren’t the one who should be feeling that way.

Your legs were moving on their own, and when you noticed, you were on the second floor, barging in another room, opening its door with full strength.

Only to blush even more, this time not with anger, no.

“Oh, hey there, Y/n. Where’s the fire?”

Jack’s sarcastic tone made you hold the door’s handle tighter, and when you looked around, you felt like a fish out of its tank.

The room was poorly lit, only the yellow light from the lamps reflected on the dark walls of the room, making the environment seem more intimate than it really was.

There were sofas along the room, and low music was playing, probably coming from one of the cell phones.

Because not only Jack Hughes was there, but his oldest brother, Quinn and Juraj Slafkovský.

You didn’t even know Quinn and Jack got along with Slaf, yet there they were, sitting and chatting with each other like they weren’t all rivals during the weekdays.

They laughed with Jack’s little remark before Quinn said: “You can come in, we don’t bite.”

“Unless you want to.” Juraj was the one who said this, to your ultimate surprise, and you rolled your eyes, doing as they said and getting in, closing the door behind you.

“Dude, come on,” Jack laughs. “She has a boyfriend.”

“Not anymore,” you say, for the first time since you opened the door. You eyed the drink cart in the corner of the room, taking full steps towards it and opening the first bottle you say. Whiskey. Great. “I just broke up with Cole, actually.”

There was a second of silence before you heard some clapping behind you, which made you turn around and stare at the grown men sitting across the room.

“What’s this clapping for?” You ask.

“It was about time, Y/n, what the hell,” Juraj says. “Guy’s been cheating on you for months.”

“And you guys didn’t think of, I don’t know, maybe give me a heads up?” You ask, sarcasm pouring out of your mouth while you pour the alcoholic drink in the glass sitting on the wooden surface. Then, you walk until you’re sitting beside Quinn and Juraj. “Would’ve been nice.”

“Sorry,” Quinn says, poking your shoulder. “In my defense, I wasn’t around enough to know he was cheating.”

“In my defense,” Jack starts. “I don’t like him.”

“In my defense,” Juraj finishes, opening his legs and resting his arms behind his head. “I couldn’t do it, because I would’ve been called a homewrecker.”

You almost choked on your drink. “What?!”

“You know I’ve been wanting to fuck you for ages now,” he sighs, like he’s tired of saying that; like he’s been saying that for a long time now. “But you can’t exactly fuck your homie’s girlfriend, can you?”

“Word.” Jack says, leaning forward to fist bumping Juraj. Quinn only chuckles and you can’t believe your eyes.

You’ve known all of them for basically the same amount of time, and you liked them a lot. Jack was a little, teasing shit, way too different from Quinn, but he was funny and so were his brothers— hanging out with them was always fun.

Quinn was private but sweet, probably one of your favorite people in the league. His soft spoken demeanor had made its way into your heart and was now stuck there, for the rest of your life, probably.

And Juraj was an old friend, someone you knew even before you started dating Cole— he was the reason you and Cole got together in the first place.

So hearing that one of your closest friends wants to have sex with you is weird, especially because he had just confessed that in front of two other men.

You stare at them, incredulous. “What are you even talking about?”

“Come on, Y/n, you can’t be this oblivious,” Jack grunts, and you tilt your head, confused. “You didn’t notice the way he looks at you?”

“Fuck you, Hughes,” Slaf curses, giving him the middle finger. “Like you’re one to talk. Everyone knows you’re head over heels for her and you know which head I’m talking about.”

Quinn laughs like what Slaf said had been the funniest thing he’d heard in a while, while Jack simply shrugs and looks at you with expectant eyes.

“You are all drunk. That’s the only explanation I can find,” you say, still choosing not to see what is right in front of you. “And I’m about to be the next one.”

You took just one sip before Quinn wrapped his hand around your glass and took it out of your hands. You were about to complain and ask him what happened when he shook his head, clicking his tongue. “We are not drunk, Y/n. And we don’t want you to be.”

“What? Why not?” You ask. “I promise I’m not that type of person who talks about their love life when they’re drunk. I might talk about Tik Tok memes, though.”

“That’s worse than talking about your shit ass love life,” Jack murmurs and you turn around to look at him with angry eyes. “What?” He asks, grinning, with his hands in the air.

“It’s not my fault I can’t find the right guys,” you sigh, resting your head on Quinn’s shoulder like you’re used to doing. “Why do men suck?”

“Not all of them do, sweets.” Quinn says, placing his hand on your naked thigh, making you blush faintly.

“We don’t.” Juraj murmurs beside you, and you hum.

“Well,” you say, measuring your words. “Unfortunately, I can’t have any of you. So, yeah, I still have the same problem.”

“Who said you can’t have any of us?” Juraj says, and you lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows at him. “Or even better, all of us.”

There’s a beat of silence. The room is suddenly too warm for you, and even if you’re just wearing a skirt and a crop top, you still feel yourself starting to get sweaty.

The song is still playing, an unknown melody reverberating through the room, and what once felt big and spacious suffocates you now.

“You guys. You can’t be serious… right?” You ask, looking at each and every single one of them in the eye.

Jack is the first one to break the silence. “Come on, Y/n. Haven’t you ever thought about us like that?”

You can feel their eyes on you as you think of what to answer. You can’t say you haven’t— that would be a lie. You were loyal to Cole and you loved him, but you weren’t blind.

And now that you’re really thinking, these guys hadn’t been particularly sleek either; Jack with his obsession with calling you pet names, Quinn finding any and every excuse to touch you whenever you were in the same room and Juraj eye-fucking you from afar while you cuddled with his teammate.

So yeah, you have wondered about it before, but it all sounded so insane you didn’t think about it twice. The odds of all four of them liking you were pretty low, so why bother fooling yourself with these kinds of thoughts?

But now, you were sitting in the same room as them, with Juraj’s arm touching yours, Quinn’s hand running up and down your leg, and Jack’s eyes on you, like you were a prey or something similar.

“We can’t do that,” you whisper, trying your hardest to hold onto that single piece of sanity and morals you still had. “You guys are insane. Jack, Quinn’s your brother.” You reason, expecting to knock some sense into them.

Quinn squeezes your thigh slightly. “It wouldn’t be our first time.”

“Besides, it’s fine because we’re not going to fuck each other,” Jack says, like he’s telling you the sky’s blue. “I’m going to fuck you.”

“We are going to fuck you,” Juraj corrects, and you close your eyes, holding your hands together on your lap, trying to keep them still. “What do you say, chéri?” He asks, getting dangerously close to your neck, his strong, masculine scent making your head spin. His lips briefly touch your neck, the contact so light you wouldn’t feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of your surroundings.

Quinn’s warm, big hand is moving up, up and up, and that startles you.

You get up, panting as hard as if you had ran an entire marathon, and you stand in the middle of the room, surrounded by them. By your friends who had just asked to fuck you.

“I can’t— I can’t do this,” you whisper. “What about Cole, what about—”

“Sweetheart, Cole is probably balls deep inside someone else right now,” Quinn replies, and the others hum in agreement. “If you don’t want it because you don’t want to, it’s fine, you know we’d never force you. But,” he spreads his thighs, the outline of his cock is visible and right there for you to see. You gulp, not sure of what to do. “If you don’t want to do it because you still believe Cole deserves your kindness, then I have to say—”

“You’re being dumb,” Juraj finishes Quinn’s sentence, smirking. “You’ll be crying over one small cock when you have three waiting for you. It’s your pick, really.”

Your head is spinning and you feel aware of your body, which is something you hate. You can feel your arms and legs starting to give in, and to your absolute horror and panic, you can feel your underwear start to get sticky.

You walk towards the door, ready to leave, ready to put this night behind and pretend this was all a fever dream, and never think about this again. But, as you grab the handle, you know you won’t be able to forget this, not even if you wanted to.

So, you stop being a hypocrite, and grab the door’s key, locking the door once, and then twice, before exhaling and turning around again.

All three of them are staring at you, with the same expression; lust. It’s sinful and you are certain that you’re going to hell for this, but as you start to get undressed, right there, in the middle of the room, for all of them to see, you can’t help but feel like what you’re doing is nothing but right.

You remove your crop top, pulling the fabric over your head and dropping it on the floor, shivering slightly when the cold breeze hits your naked skin. You do the same with your skirt, letting it fall around your feet like a river, leaving you standing with only your bra and lace underwear in front of them.

“Fuck.” You hear one of them say, you’re not sure who, the word nothing but a whisper.

Juraj is the first one to get up, and get his hands on you. He’s rough, hungry and not careful at all, something you’re not used to but like it anyway.

His lips are on yours almost instantly, and his hands are holding you down while he licks and sucks your mouth. He tastes like some kind of candy you’ve had before, and your brain is screaming that what you’re doing is wrong, so wrong and that you literally just broke up with your boyfriend of two years not even thirty minutes ago but you can’t stop.

It’s maddening, it’s addictive and you want more.

It gets worse when you feel another pair of hands on your back, unclamping your bra. You hear a soft tud, which you can only assume is your bralette hitting the floor. Then, there are hands squeezing your tits, hands almost as rough as Slaf’s, and it has you moaning inside his mouth.

“So fucking soft,” you hear Jack say behind you as he gets closer, his hard dick poking your ass over your underwear. “Tits so fucking soft for us, baby.”

And he pinches both of your nipples, making you whimper loud and separate your lips from Juraj’s. There’s a saliva string connecting both of you and it makes you feel nasty.

He gives you a brief peck before gently slapping your thighs twice, silently asking you to remove your underwear, which you promptly do. You slide your lace panties over your legs, shyly throwing them away from you.

It’s only then that you notice Quinn staring at you from the couch, half naked with his dick out of his boxers— the thought of him getting off only by watching you makes you squeeze your thighs together, to stop your hole from clenching around nothing.

“Let’s get you wet and ready, alright?” Juraj says, manhandling you around like you were just a toy for him to break, until your back touched the cold, wooden surface of the table sitting in the middle of the dark room. You arch your back, pouting with the coldness and Slaf coos at you. “I’m sorry there isn’t anything more comfortable than this.”

“Like she cares about comfort,” Quinn snorts. “The only thing she’s worried about it’s whether she’s taking one or two cocks in that greedy pussy of hers.”

The humiliation Quinn’s words bring you is almost unbearable, yet it has you dripping anyway. Their laughs, the way they’re all staring at you like some piece of meat makes you feel hot all over.

Juraj lays you down carefully, only to spread your legs open with the same roughness he used before, when his lips were on yours. You yelped, feeling exposed and embarrassed— your bare, glistening pussy was on display for all three of them to see.

“Holy shit,” you hear someone say, Juraj maybe, and you cringe, hiding your face with your hands. “She’s perfect.”

“We’ll see about that,” you hear Jack say behind you and you remove your hands from your face. Suddenly, he’s sliding his pants down, his dick touching his covered abs as wraps his fist around his length, slowly jerking off in front of you.

You’re watching it in awe, even as you stare at him upside down, since your head is hanging off the table’s edge. He smirks down at you at the same time Juraj licks your clenching hole, making you moan for the first time, loud and involuntary.

“Ah.”

“Shit,” you hear Slaf say. “Pussy so fucking wet and sweet. Y/n, you’ll drive me crazy.”

You don’t answer; not because you don’t want to but because Jack places his hands on both sides of your cheeks, squeezing them together until your mouth forms the perfect O and he can slide his entire dick inside it.

He moans noisily as you gag on his long dick. It’s an unexpected feeling, to have your throat fucked like this— Cole wasn’t a big fan of messy, rough blowjobs— but fuck if it doesn’t get you wetter.

Juraj is still working hard on your pussy, licking your folds and throbbing clit, eating it with a loud slurp, the sound of your wetness making you close your eyes with pleasure and shame.

“Your mouth feels so good, pretty,” Jack moans behind you, still holding your head in place while he drags his dick through your throat. Your eyes are wet with unshed tears and you feel your mouth so full it is starting to hurt. “Almost as tight as a pussy.”

It’s overwhelming to try to manage the feeling of Juraj’s tongue and Jack’s cock on you. You feel warm, your hands are gripping the table like your life depends on it, and you can feel yourself start to slip more and more.

“She’s wet enough already,” Quinn states, and the fact that he’s referring to you like you’re not even there makes you whimper loudly around Jack’s cock.

Next thing you know, you’re being manhandled again; Jack’s rough hands leave your cheeks to hold your waist instead, taking you to the nearest couch and laying down with you on top of him.

You’re facing him, those blue eyes never leaving yours. “Y/n,” he starts, his tone gentle for the first time that night. You hum, adjusting yourself on top of him, until you have both of your legs on each side of his body, almost on fours on top of him, highly aware that Quinn and Slaf could see everything. “We are going to be rough.”

“I know,” you whisper.

“I’m not asking for permission, baby, do you understand that?” He talks to you like one would do to a child, using a tone so soft it could put you to sleep, if it were any other situation. You bite your lips, feeling Slaf’s long fingers sliding up and down your pussy, rubbing circles on your swollen clit while Jack speaks. “We are going to be rough. Tonight, you’re nothing but a toy for us to play with, alright? A hole for us to fuck.”

You nod, closing your eyes momentarily as Juraj pinches your clit, hard. He tugs it and it feels like he just placed a clothespin on you. It hurts so. Good.

“I need your words, baby.”

“I u-understand that,” you sob, hot tears running freely down your face as you continue to speak. “I w-want it.”

Jack chuckles, touching your face with care. “It would be so nice if we actually cared about what you want, huh?”

You bit your lip again, suppressing a loud moan. It would be even more embarrassing if they realized how wet you got every time they were mean towards you.

“Bitch gets wetter and wetter every time you say shit like that, Hughes,” Juraj says, and your entire face burns with shame, as you hide it in the crock of Jack’s neck. “Come see this shit, Quinn.”

You tremble as you hear a pair of steps echoing through the room, and without warning, you feel your hips getting lifted, just slightly, at the same time you feel two fingers being inserted inside deeply in your pussy.

You whine loudly, not even feeling pain with how wet you were. His fingers were moving around like you were nothing but a sex doll, making you hold Jack’s arm to steady yourself.

“Look at this tight, little thing,” Juraj says, twirling his fingers around, scissoring them inside you. “Merde. She’s milking my fucking fingers, bro.”

“I can see that,” Quinn hums. “Pussy so fucking greedy she’s taking you without complaints.”

You were about to moan again when Juraj removed his fingers from you, leaving you clenching around nothing, once again. “Let’s start, then.”

After that, it’s hard to tell what really happened. You were thrown around, and suddenly, Slaf was laying under you, Quinn was standing beside you and you assumed Jack was behind you.

You could feel one of them poking their cock through your slit, gathering all your wetness to use as lube. Then, he slowly started to insert it, the stretch making you whimper inside Slaf’s mouth, as he bruised your lips roughly again.

Jack had barely given you time to adjust to his length when you felt Juraj’s tip poking at your entrance too. You gasped inside his mouth, feeling his dick joining Jack’s inside you and.

Oh.

“Fuck, Y/n.”

You opened your eyes, glistening with tears, and stared at Quinn standing beside you, who was looking at you with fond eyes. He chuckles while staring down at you, taking his dick out again and grabbing it with his right hand, running the tip over your mouth.

The salty taste of his precum painting your lips white distracted you momentarily from the fact that Juraj was still trying to put his dick inside you, accompanying Jack’s.

But it wasn’t enough, of course— even if Juraj's thick, long fingers had stretched you, it didn’t compare to having both of their cocks inside you, together.

“Oh,” you heard Quinn coo. “She’s crying. Maybe she can’t take it?”

You shook your head immediately, not even acknowledging how desperate you looked. Quinn put his thumb inside your mouth at the same time Juraj completely bottomed out inside you, making you scream around the brunette’s finger.

“Sh, sh,” Juraj mumbled under you. “Take it, hm?”

The stretch hurt, yet you couldn’t ask them to stop— you felt so full and you swear you can feel them rearranging your guts, reaching so deep inside your body that if you were to look, you’d probably see a bulge in your stomach.

“Holy shit, man,” Jack moaned, dragging his dick slowly until only the tip was in, so that he could slam it back into you again. “She’s so fucking tight.”

“Move, Hughes.” Juraj hissed under you, and after that, everything fell into a pure state of lust.

Jack and Juraj slammed their cocks inside you rhythmically, like they were dancing a well rehearsed dance. Your body jolted forward as they pounded inside you, rough hands— you didn’t know who's— holding you by your waist and pulling your hair at the same time.

Quinn, who had just been jerking his cock while looking at you, decides to take the opportunity and shove his dick inside you, making you gag around his thick length.

“Shit, Y/n,” he moans, throwing his head back. “I’m going to wreck your mouth like they’re doing with your pussy.”

And he wasn’t lying. He tilted your head to the side and thrust his dick deep inside your mouth, until your nose touched his crotch area. You gagged, still not used to the reckless act, but you were far too gone to complain.

The room smelled like sex, lust and sin. The dark walls watched as you laid on top of Juraj’s much bigger body while you took their cocks in two of your holes, with your pupils blown and wide. Your face was destroyed, it didn’t need to be a genius to realize that; your mascara had smudged under your eyes and the tears had spread the black ink almost everywhere.

Your legs hurt, and so did your jaw, but the pleasure was bigger than any pain. You had never felt this dirty, this raw before, but you feared that after this night, you wouldn’t ever be the same; nothing besides them would ever be enough.

“She feels so good,” Jack says, voice filled with need. “She was born for this.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Juraj says, kissing your neck while you gagged around Quinn’s dick. “Born to take cock inside her tiny pussy.”

After that, you keep slipping and slipping. You come on their dicks at least twice, falling apart each time you feel your wetness coating their dicks.

Your throat is raw, your jaw is hurting, but Quinn is close to his climax, like his brother and Slaf.

Jack and Slaf are the first to come, both painting your walls white with their seed. It’s maddening, your belly feels full of them, but you don’t have time to acknowledge that properly, not when Quinn is also coming deep inside your throat.

You lay limp on top of Slaf’s broad chest, closing your eyes, tired.

But—

“Y/n, hey,” you hear Quinn calling, and you open your eyes, just barely. “Can you stand up, just for a bit?”

“Don’t let it go to waste, baby,” Juraj warns you, and you keep clenching even after they remove their dicks. It’s hard, you feel so open you should be disgusted at yourself but you still try to do as they said.

You feel a pair of hands lifting you, and you sigh, exhausted. They manhandled you until you were laying on top of the couch, head resting on your arms. A rough pair of hands— Jack’s— spread your legs open, leaving you exposed once again.

“Go on,” he commands, and you let it go, feeling their sticky cum pour out of your used, gaping pussy. You sob, feeling dirty.

“Jesus fuck.”

“I think I’m hard again.”

“Lowkey, yeah.”

You collapse on the couch once you feel like there’s nothing left, blacking out as soon as your head hits the leather.

𖧷

YOU WOKE up with a light touch on your cheek.

It takes a while for you to manage to open your eyes, but when you do, you thank whoever decided to put a yellow, warm lighting in that room.

“Hi.”

Jack’s voice brings you back to the present, and you lift your head, only then realising that you were in his lap, fully clothed— with clothes that weren’t yours— and covered with something heavy that felt like a blanket.

You frowned.

“What… what happened?” You ask, looking around. There was Juraj, who was placing a few takeout bags on the table, and Quinn, who was holding an old piece of cloth. “Oh my God.”

It was real. You fucked Jack, Juraj and Quinn.

“Oh my God,” you groan, hiding your face in Jack’s chest.

“I hope these exclamations of yours are because you’re wearing Zegras’ hideous clothes and not because you realized you fucked the three of us.” Jack says, sarcasm taking over his face.

“Why would we do that,” you mumble. “Gosh. That’s wrong in so many ways, I can’t even begin to—”

“Y/n,” Quinn calls you, dropping the cloth on the table— the same table Juraj had eaten you out on— and walking towards you, lifting your chin with two of his fingers. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I— Well— We—” you stumbled over your words, not sure of what to say.

He applies pressure on your chin, sapphire eyes squinting at you. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“I—” you sighed. “Yeah. I did.”

He smiled.

“Then we’re fine.” It’s all he says, before pecking your lips, briefly. It was your first time kissing him and you secretly didn’t want it to be the last.

“We liked it too,” Jack says once his brother lets you go. He winks at you, smirking. “I’ll never forget the sight of you full with my—”

You put your hand over his mouth, red as an apple. “Okay, alright, shut up.”

He chuckles, taking your hand away and kissing you, exploring your mouth with his tongue, just like his brother had done, barely two minutes ago.

“You guys are no fun,” you hear Slaf’s voice. “In my opinion, we should just keep doing this.”

“No,” you say. “This was a one time thing. We can’t keep fucking each other like this.”

“As I said, no fun.”

“She’ll change her mind in a few days, I just know it.” Jack says under you and you roll your eyes at his cockiness.

“I’m too tired to argue with you,” you say. “I smell Chinese food. Can we eat?”

“Yeah, we should probably do that,” Quinn says, nodding. “It’s late already. Let’s eat and take Y/n home.”

Juraj and Jack agree with just a few more complaints, and while you watch them take turns to feed you, you realize, with shame, that Jack was wrong about one thing.

It wouldn’t take a few days for you to change your mind.

You had already done it.

NHL MASTERLIST.

JACK HUGHES MASTERLIST.

QUINN HUGHES MASTERLIST.

[syluriar]

please...help me - sylus x mc!reader. part 1

sypnosis: you call sylus to escape caleb.

a/n: i know i'm not the only one who thought this, a lot of us sylus girlies wanted to call out man and get him our of sjyhaven ASAP. so i wrote this little fic for that, and as you can tell by the title this is just part 1. ofc that means there'll be a part 2, maybe a part 3??? let's wait and see :)

warning: caleb being possessive (yandere??). mc (you) feeling uncomfortable and scared of caleb. hurt and some comfort by sylus (i luv you<3 ). this is rushed and like all my fics, have no grammer check.

word count: 990

RING RING

The vibration of the phone rang loudly through the bathroom, the one place Caleb grants you privacy. More than one you were thankful that he wasn’t here, his duty calling him out to do some work, work that you don’t question anymore, exactly how he likes it.

“I’ll be back soon, Pip-squeak,” He said with a tone meaning for warmth, but you feel the opposite, especially when he looks at you with a smile, the one you remember from your childhood, but it’s not the same anymore. 

“Don’t cause any ruckus, ok? We don’t need a repeat of last time.” 

You shudder at the memory, the way his hand had gripped your wrist and dragged you to your bedroom and placed you not so gently on your bed, scolding you not following his orders and locked you in. He would only allow you to come out for food and he would watch you the whole time you ate, sending shivers of fear down your spine the more it went on. It lasted for two weeks, after that you had a bit more freedom, but every night he would announce it was time for you to sleep and lock you in the bedroom, the next would be the same.

And you hated it. You hated how different he was, how much he had changed since you last saw him. Where was the Caleb that joked around with you? The one that always picked you up when you were feeling down? The one that would wipe away your tears and hold you close? 

Where’s one where you felt safe with? 

Gone. He was all gone, and he scared you. You couldn’t stay here any longer, to try and get the old Caleb back. You had enough of being ordered around and being scared. 

RING RING

Despite Caleb’s watchful eye you managed to snag a new phone as he confiscated yours, checking though all your data to make sure you couldn’t leave, Luckily you thought he would do that and got rid of anything that would get you into trouble; contacts, messages and pictures in your camera roll. So far he hasn’t commented on anything which you pat yourself on the back for.

Another thing your proud of is remembering a phone number, just one that you know would get you out of here.

RING RING

“Please pick up…” You whispered desperately. You have called the number twice now, and you hope people are right when people say third time's the charm, because you needed as much luck as possible right now.

RING RING - 

“I must say your persistence to get hold of me is both annoying and -”

“Sylus!” You couldn’t hold back the happiness as you heard his voice, it had been so long since you last heard it.

“...Is that you, sweetie?”

“It is.” You answer, the endearing name making you blush instantly. 

“Who’s phone are you calling on? Did you get a new phone and not tell me?”

“I’ll tell you that later but I need you to listen to me.” Time was of the essence, and you didn’t want to waste any of it. “I need you to track this phone and come help me.”

“Help you?” His tone held confusion. “What trouble have you gotten into now?”

“Don’t ask. I just need you to come to Skyhaven and get me out of here, fast.” You spoke hastily, you might have sounded desperate, but right now you don’t care. 

“You sound weird, kitten. Are you alright?”

Trust him to take notice. “Please, Sylus. I can’t get out of here and I’m….” You take a deep breath, tears threatening to spill. “I’m scared.”

His answer was instant. “I’m coming, sweetie. Don’t worry, I’ll get you out in no time.”

It’s like a weight is lifted off your shoulders, your heart is lighter and a smile graces your lips. “Thank you. Please hurry Sylus, I don’t like it here.”

“I can tell, sweetie. I’ll destroy everything if it means getting you out.”

“Maybe don’t go that far, there are innocent people here.”

“The ones that hold you against your will are nowhere near innocent.”

You grimace as you think about Caleb, a small piece of you feeling guilty for this, but you needed to get out of here, and if that meant hurting Caleb to escape…then so be it.

Looking at the time, you realise you’ve been left on your own for a while, and Calen would be due back soon. The last thing you wanted was for him to find you like this. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you later?”

“As soon as possible, sweetie. I’ve been making arrangements since you first said you needed my help.”

You end the call quickly and stash within your period products, you knew that Caleb never came in your bathroom, but just in case he changed his mind, at least you knew he wouldn’t search through them.

But now your body is full of nerves, you can’t believe you managed to get through to Sylus, even more so that he’s coming to get you. You just have to wait and keep playing Caleb’s game till he comes, which he assured you will be as soon as possible. In Sylus’ language, that could be within a few minutes to an hour. You hope it’s the first option, but you were determined to wait if that’s what it took.

Before leaving the bathroom you remind yourself to go back to your usual personality that Caleb likes, if he see’s any of your happiness he’ll question it, and you don’t know how long you can lie and fake it for. 

So you lower your excitement, lose your smile and take a few deep breaths to calm your beating heart. Once your assured that you’ve gone back to the obedience look, you open the bathroom door - 

“Have a nice phone call, Pip-squeak?”

[cyberhughes]

TAPOUT!

jack hughes x fem!reader, quinn hughes x fem!reader, luke hughes , fem!reader, cole caufield x fem!reader, trevor zegras x fem!reader

IN WHICH… the new social media intern for the new jersey devils gets a proper welcome from her favourite boys

NOTE guys i had to take a pause on the requests because this was just on my mind so bad…and if this is the fic that gets me canceled for being too controversial then we went out w a bang!! (pun not intended)

also this is dedicated to my kitten clara👩🏻‍🍳🤝 @lovecla i’m glad i have someone to share my insanity with i love you👅👅

WARNINGS! NSFW 18+ content dark content/taboo | five guys one girl :( | dubcon/coercion | spiking drinks w aphrodisiac | unprotected sex | blowjobs |subtle size kink | dacryphilia (blink and u miss it) | recording | degradation | cum eating | uhm if im missing anything lmk im going crazy

she got that million dollar ooh ooh ohh...

make her tap out!

you don’t know how you got into this position. or, multiple positions. hot tears blurred your vision from clearly seeing the men in front of you. the men who had been watching you like you were prey the moment you stepped into the arena as a new social media intern, waiting for their chance to pounce on you.

[ ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ]

“hey!” you stopped your steps as you heard a familiar voice call out just before you were about to head over to the seats to film some practice content.

luke, who you had met a few times, had skated up to the gate, a friendly smile on his face as he approached. “it’s y/n, right?” he asked and you nodded with a smile, most of the time players didn’t really care for the social media girls, simply answering their questions and going on about their day like you didn’t exist. hell, they probably wouldn’t have recognized you if they saw you walking on the street.

“so uh, feel free to say no,” he started, scratching the back of his neck. “i was having a little get together with some other players tonight, and some friends from other teams too,” you nodded as you listened intently, scared you might zone out from admiring his features.

“and i was wondering if maybe you’d like to join? some of the other social media girls are gonna be there from the other teams so i was thinking that maybe you could like, connect with them or something? just cause you’re new.” he offered with a cheeky smile and you nodded, seeming calm but inside you were freaking out a bit, it was such a perfect opportunity!

you could get so many tips from the other girls, learning things from their past experience to limit any stupid mistakes you might make while learning on your own.

“yeah! i’d love to!” he grinned at your response, “okay, awesome! how ‘bout after practice i’ll give you the details?”

[ ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ]

you took in a deep breath before you firmly knocked on the door of luke’s apartment, nervousness bubbled in your stomach as you waited. you were excited to meet the other girls, and make some possible new connections with anyone else. your hands fiddled with the hem of your skirt as you heard clattering and music on the other side.

the door swung open, revealing a grinning luke. you tried to hide your surprise when you saw him, usually you had either seen him in either hockey gear or in a suit. you thought that it was refreshing to see him in something so laid back, a simple tshirt and jeans matched with a backwards cap that pushed his curls nicely to the back and side of his head.

“hey y/n!” he stepped back to let you in. you returned the greeting as you stepped in as you scanned the apartment, and wow. he really downplayed on the ‘small get together’. the apartment was bustling with players of different teams chatting and drinking, yet you couldn’t spot any of the social media girls. hm, maybe they were running late.

luke noticed the way your shoulders dropped slightly in disappointment. “oh, yeah i’m sorry y/n.” he shook his head as he led you into the living room where some familiar faces were sitting. “the other girls said they couldn’t come anymore. last minute family emergencies and some illnesses or something.” he spoked and you simply nodded. “oh, that’s too bad.” you responded, it was too bad. but you looked on the brighter side of things, you would get to know the players in a more candid setting, even starting some new friendships.

“hey guys, y/n came.” luke introduced you to everyone and you waved shyly. sitting beside jack on the couch was trevor zegras and cole caufield, with quinn sitting on an arm chair just beside.

“hey y/n!” jack slapped his hands on his thighs as he stood up from his position on the couch. “it’s too bad the other girls couldn’t come, but we’re still gonna have fun, right?” he said and you nodded, cheeks slightly burning when he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. the greeting threw you off slightly, only having met him a handful of times

“what do you say we get you a drink, hm?” he offered and you nodded, following along, you didn’t want to be impolite. you’d have one drink to settle your nerves before getting to know the players.

you didn’t notice the devilish grin jack shot luke as he placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the kitchen.

the night was going pretty smoothly, you had spent most of your time with the five guys you had initially been introduced with. you talked about your major for a bit, why you wanted to go into sports marketing, a bit about your personal life.

you went to take a sip of your drink as you listened to quinn talk about, well you weren't really sure what, but you had noticed your cup was empty. luke peered over, “oh, i can refill that for you.” he reached out his hand and you smiled, “sure, maybe just a soda, please?” he nodded. you don’t know how many times that night luke got up to get you another soda, but you didn’t complain. he was being a good host and you didn’t want to be rude.

“so what does your boyfriend think of you working in sports marketing?” cole smiled, taking a sip of his drink. you shook your head and chuckled in slight embarrassment, “oh, i don’t have a boyfriend.”

“really? but you’re so pretty?” trevor hummed from beside you. he had his arm draped behind you on the couch, and he reached up to twirl a strand of your hair as you blushed fifty shades of red.

you didn’t know how to respond to the compliment, squeaking out a quiet ‘thank you.’

the room started to get hot, maybe from embarrassment, maybe from the amount of bodies crowded into one space.

“hey, you okay?” quinn asked, noticing the way you were playing with the collar of your cardigan, trying to loosen it’s grip on your neck.

“uh, yeah sorry. just feeling a bit weird.” you gave him a tight lipped smile, you didn’t want to ruin the night, you had worked so hard to get where you are today and you didn’t want to ruin any of your newly made friendships with the players.

“hey it’s okay,” jack moved a few strands of hair away from your face, an expression of false concern taking over his features. “why don’t you lay down in luke's room for a bit while we call it a night?” he offered and you shook your head, “i don’t want to ruin your night.” he smiled at your pout, “don’t worry ‘bout it, luke will show you the way.”

and so luke led you to his room, letting you lean your weight onto his arm as he guided you.

“just sit down m’kay?” you nodded and plopped on the bed, feeling a weird warmth spread throughout your body. were you catching a fever? was it pms? you had never felt this feeling before. “they’ll tell everyone to go home.” he stroked your hair, letting you lean onto his shoulder.

quinn walked into the room, with jack, trevor and cole following right behind. “you okay y/n?” quinn asked as he took a seat next to you, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. “you’re getting hot, why don’t you take your sweater off?” you nodded and let him unbutton your cardigan, peeling off the fabric and letting his cold hands graze your skin.

“why don’t you stay over tonight?” luke murmured as his eyes fell to your cleavage once your cardigan was taken off.

“yeah, we don’t want you out driving like this.” trevor kneeled in front of you, examining your face as the boys nodded in agreement.

was this inappropriate? staying over at luke’s apartment? you were just the social media girl, you didn’t want it to seem like you had taken this job just to get closer to the players. then again, maybe they were right. it wasn’t safe for a young woman to head home alone in an uber so late at night.

“just let us take care of you baby, okay?” luke pushed your hair to the side as he whispered into your ear, letting his lips trail down to your neck where he placed a small kiss. you shivered at the touch, feeling your butterflies in your stomach. “o-okay…” you sighed when he pressed another kiss onto your shoulder.

“you feeling hot? why don’t we take off the rest of your clothes, hm?” quinn’s fingers toyed with the strap of your tank top. “is…is this weird?” you looked up at him with doe eyes, tears barely forming. he gave you an endearing smile, admiring how cute you looked. “no, we’re all friends here, just wanna take care of you.” he said and you nodded.

quinn carefully helped you out of your tank top and skirt, revealing your lace bra and panties which you tried to cover up in embarrassment. you felt the bed dip behind you, jack and cole approaching on the situation.

you felt like prey underneath their gazes, their eyes burning over your exposed flesh like they were getting ready to devour you, their mouths practically watering

“so pretty…” cole's voice was barely above a whisper as he watched they way trevor traced his fingers closer and closer to your core.

this was extremely wrong, it was dirty. yet you couldn’t help but feel your panties get damper at their ministrations.

trevor looked up at you, tilting his head with a friendly smile, “gonna let us use you, pretty girl?” as he gently pushed open your thighs and you gave him a dazed nod, your response nearly coming out as a whimper, “yes.” you knew what they were doing, you knew that this was extremely perverted and wrong, but you were too far gone.

your lips parted in a soft gasp as you felt his fingers trace over your cunt overtop of your pink panties. you felt so many hands on you, groping at your breasts through your bra, slender hands pulling your thighs open just a bit further.

trevor pushed your panties to the side, toying with your slick before pushing in a single finger, looking up for your reaction. you whimpered, leaning back onto cole’s chest while he placed a small kiss on your temple.

trevor slowly pumped his finger, your arousal growing with the overwhelming amount of stimulation you were receiving from everyone. “so tight…” he mumbled as he stared with amazement before forcing a second and soon third finger. he pumped his digits in and out, earning moans from you that felt like music to their ears. from behind you, jack reached around to toy with your clit, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

tears threatened to fall as you felt the heat pool in your lower stomach, “m…m gonna cum..” you whined, body fighting the way cole hand you down as you squirmed.

“go on baby, it’s okay.” quinn licked at your ear and that was all it took for you to snap, your first orgasm of the night washing over you with an intensity you had never felt before.

“fuck..” luke’s mouth dropped open as he watched your release squirt out onto trevor's tattooed arm, his fingers practically jackhammering into you as he pulled every moan he could from you until you were breathless.

everything felt hazy as they lied you down, they took their time taking off the only fabric that you had left, leaving you fully exposed and vulnerable. you heard some rummaging around but stayed focused on catching your breath.

you dazily watch jack as he climbed on top of you, trailing comforting kisses from your stomach up to your neck. “you okay with this?” he asked as he stroked his cock from below you, positioning it at your fluttering entrance. you nodded frantically and he smirked, “‘course you are.” you felt your stomach drop at the mockery in his voice, but you didn’t have much time to think about it before he pushed into you, taking all the air from your lungs. “fuck baby,” he groaned, letting himself sink fully, tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to fall at the intense stretch.

he didn’t give you time to adjust as he began thrusting into you with fervor, lifting your legs and pressing them to your chest. his fingers dug into your thighs and he pushed them down, leaving bruises onto your delicate skin. “you’re so dirty, y/n.” he grinned from above you and you felt the tears fall, which he quickly kissed away. you could tell he was about to cum when his thrusts became harsher, his cock kissing at your cervix as he let out deep groans.

his gaze flickered from the way your pussy sucked him in, up to your face, cheeks red and stained with tears as you watched him with hooded eyes. “fuckkk,” he breathed out, letting himself shoot his load into you, hips stuttering as he did so.

you let out a whine when he pulled out, feeling his cum drip out of your hole and down to your ass. you don’t even notice when he had switched positions with trevor and cole, the two boys admiring your fucked out expression before taking their turn with you.

“such a pretty little whore.” trevor smiled at you sweetly, a contrast to his degrading words. he flipped you onto your stomach with ease, lifting your hips up so that your ass was flush with his pelvis.

cole positioned himself in front of you, and you knew what he wanted. you stuck your tongue out, looking up at him with doe eyes and he swore he could’ve cum just from the sight. he slapped his cock over your tongue as trevor spread your ass cheeks from behind, getting a better view of your swollen cunt before he lined himself up with your already leaking hole.

you moaned around cole’s cock as trevor thrusted into you, the vibrations sending instant pleasure throughout his body. you steadied yourself by placing your hands on his thick thighs, letting your nails dig into his skin as he let out the prettiest whines.

you let out a squeal when trevor slapped your ass, quickly smoothing his hand over the red mark to soothe the pain. “so filthy,” it didn’t take them long before they came, shooting their loads from both ends.

you had no choice but to swallow cole’s cum when he pushed your head down all the way, nose to pelvis as his body shook in pleasure.

he cupped your face with one hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he thanked you, leaving your heart fluttering. trevor placed a kiss onto your back before the two of them moved away, letting quinn take over.

quinn’s eyes scanned you with a look of disapproval and pity. “so messy, baby.” you pouted at his words, he was right though. you had cum and spit leaking at the corner of your mouth, your hair was tousled and your cunt was already stuffed full. he grabbed your tank top that was thrown onto the bed earlier and quickly cleaned you up.

“there we go.” he smiled softly before leaning down to give you a proper kiss on this lips and your eyes fluttered closed, your hands reaching up to tangle themselves in his hair. he trailed his kiss from your mouth down to your breasts, licking and sucking at the reddening skin. “poor baby,” he murmured, “didn’t even get to cum again, hm? it’s okay though, i’m gonna take proper care of you.” he said, a slight dig to the men who had previously used you without any regard for your own pleasure.

he laid you down, dipping his middle finger between your folds, chuckling at the way your hole fluttered, clenching around nothing. “i’ll take care of you.” he soon replaced his finger with his aching cock, pushing into you gently as he hushed your whimpers with a kiss.

“doing so good for us, aren’t you baby?” his hand trailed down to lazily massage at your neglected clit. “q-quinn…” your nails scratched at his back, leaving bright red marks and he hissed at the pleasurable pain, nipping at your collarbones. “it’s okay, i got you baby.” he rocked into you, never ceasing his actions on your clit and you felt your eyes roll to the back of your head as his thrusts deepened. “you gonna cum for me, pretty girl? huh? gonna put on a show on for them?” you whined at his words, squirming underneath him as the heat pooled in your belly.

“k-kiss..” you mumbled and he smiled, “yeah, i got you.” he leaned down and you kissed him deeply, moving your hips up to meet him halfway. “go on baby, let go.” he whispered against your lips when he felt your grip on him tighten, your pussy spasming as you came, him following soon after, pulling out to cum onto the soft skin of your stomach.

your vision was blurry as you came down from your orgasm, body on fire from the consistent stimulation with no break. you felt quinn pepper kiss over your face, “you did so good baby.” he placed on last kiss on your lips, savoring the sweet taste of your saliva, “it’s okay, it’s almost over.” he reassured and you hummed in confusion, before you saw luke standing at the edge of the bed.

you didn’t know if you had it in you, and god he looked big standing there. “luke…” you whimpered as you tried crawling back up the bed, but he grabbed your ankles and pulled you back down.

“m’sorry baby,” he pouted, “you’re gonna let me fuck you, right? it’s only fair. i’m the one who thought you were pretty first.” he said like it was a competition before pushing himself in, your eyes going wide as your body tensed. even though you had been fucked plenty that night, none of them could’ve possible compared to the way luke’s cock was stretching you out.

hot tears fell down your cheeks as he thrusted into you, letting one of his large hands press down onto your lower stomach to feel the bulge of his cock as he fucked you. “too big luke!” you cried, thrashing underneath him and leaned down closer, his cock hitting deeper. “you can take it, know you can.” he grunted, his tip brushing against your cervix and you gripped onto his biceps like he was your lifeline. “luke! s’too much!” you cried and he licked as the salty tears from your face.

he didn’t let up his pace, continuing to fuck into you like he had been dreaming of since he first laid eyes on you at the rink. “my pretty girl...” he cooed as your screams of overstimulation echoed in his ears as he reached places inside you no one had ever reached before.

it wasn’t long before yet another load was dumped into you, your eyes lolling to the back of your head as you let out a silent scream while you came for the final time that night.

the room fell silent, the boys entranced at your fucked out expression, limp on the bed with your skin decorated with their cum.

“fuck, wait till nico sees this.” jack was quick to pull out his phone, snapping a picture of you.

“there’s no leaving us now, baby doll.”