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hottiesforhockey · 22 days ago

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may the best brother win pt 3 ⎜hughes brothers

pairings: quinn hughes x afab!reader ⎜luke hughes x afab!reader ⎜ jack hughes x afab!reader ⎜ genre: romance ⎜bachelorette-esque situations ⎜angst? ⎜friends - to - lovers warnings: tension...lots and lots of tension ⎜make out ⎜ mild grinding ⎜ slut shaming ⎜ jack's a dick ⎜ quinn being protective ⎜ luke being a cutie patootie as per usual ⎜ not a lot tbh ⎜shoving ⎜ synopsis: you have been friends with the hughes brothers for years - but why does this summer feel so different? word count: 6.6k authors note: this is the much anticipated Quinn chapter - there will be one more part after this one that will tie everything together, there hasn't ended up being much actual smut in this series cause it's just not fitting as I'm writing so apologies - btw who do people think the reader should be ending up with? (p.s. i will be posting chapter aesthetic pics at the bottom so you can get an idea of what I was picturing :) )

pt 1 ⎜pt 2 ⎜ pt 3 ⎜

(unedited)

“He’ll come around eventually.” Luke sighs as he watches your gaze follow his older brother around the backyard.

“You’ve been saying that for days, Lukey—” You let out a long sigh, pushing your sunglasses onto the top of your head as you adjust your position in the sun-chair, ��We all know that if there is one thing Jack is good at, it’s icing someone out.” Luke just nods his head along - having also been on the receiving end of Jack’s frosty attitude.

“Look Jack and I are going back to jersey from some promo stuff, give me that time to try and settle things with him.” Luke suggests, shooting his older brother a glare as he notices him looking over at the two of you sitting side by side at the pool. “Just enjoy your time with Quinn and try to relax a little.” He adds and you nod along, pulling your sunglasses back down to your nose, lying back on the sun-chair.

“You know what, maybe I will.”

Luke gathers you in his arms for a quick hug, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder as he and Jack get ready to leave for their trip back to jersey. “It’s only two days.” Luke whispers and you nod, squeezing him back just as hard — Luke and you have become almost inseparable since your date with him to the fair, something lingering between you since you had kissed that night - but things in the lake house had become increasingly tense since Jack had stormed away from you that same night - refusing to hear your side of the situation.

“Okay, you can let go, Luke.” Quinn chuckles as he steps forwards, tugging you from his younger brothers arms, Luke looking at him with a pout before huffing and making his way out of the house. Jack still stand by the door looking between you and his little brother with a roll of his eyes.

“Have a safe flight.” You peep, Jack eyes shooting to you as he gives you a stern nod before following after Luke, shutting the door closed behind him, leaving just you and Quinn in the big house.

“Guess it’s just you and I now.” Quinn teases, his mouth right besides your ear, his hands tight on your hips. You shiver at the feeling of Quinn’s warm breath against your ear, his teasing tone making your stomach flip. His hands linger on your hips, sending a tingle up your spine as you glance up at him.

“Guess so,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, though the tension between you is undeniable. Quinn’s eyes search yours, his lips twitching into a small smirk that makes your heart race.

“You gonna miss them?” he asks, his voice softer now, though the playful glint in his eyes remains.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Of course. But… it’ll be nice to be able to breathe for a little bit.” Quinn chuckles, his grip loosening as he steps back, though the warmth of his touch still lingers.

“You’ve earned it,” Quinn says, breaking the moment as he steps back, his hands finally leaving your hips. His touch lingers in your mind, though, as he walks toward the kitchen, casually tossing over his shoulder, “Come on. Let’s make the most of this—I'll cook dinner tonight. Unless, of course, you’re still holding a grudge about the whole grill incident?”

You smirk, trailing after him into the kitchen. “Grudge? Quinn, you almost set the deck on fire.”

“Details,” he quips, opening the fridge and pulling out a few ingredients. “I’d call it a learning experience. Besides, I’ve been perfecting my skills since then. Tonight, you’ll see. Gourmet chef Quinn Hughes in action.”

“Should I alert the fire department ahead of time?” you tease, leaning against the counter. His lips twitch into that familiar smirk, and the way his eyes flick over you as he sets the ingredients down makes your stomach flutter.

“I think you’ll survive,” he shoots back, handing you a knife and a cutting board. “Now, sous-chef, make yourself useful and chop these.”

You take the knife, raising an eyebrow. “Bold of you to trust me with this. I could sabotage your big redemption arc.” Quinn steps closer, his presence making the small kitchen feel even smaller.

“I’m willing to take that risk.” His voice is lower, a little softer, and for a moment, his eyes meet yours, holding your gaze longer than necessary. Your breath catches, but before you can respond, he steps back with a teasing grin. “Just don’t lose a finger. I’m not great with first aid.”

You shake your head, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck as you focus on slicing the vegetables. Quinn moves around the kitchen with ease, his arm occasionally brushing against yours as he reaches for spices or utensils. Each touch feels intentional, sending a spark through you that you can’t quite ignore.

“So,” he says, leaning casually against the counter as you work. “What’s the plan while Luke and Jack are gone? Binge some trash TV? Go for a swim? Or are you just gonna sit here and miss my brothers?”

You glance up, smirking. “And what makes you think I won’t be enjoying you instead?” The words are out before you can stop them, and Quinn’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. For a moment, you worry you’ve overstepped, but then his lips curve into a slow, mischievous smile.

“Careful,” he says, his voice dropping just slightly. “Say things like that, and I might start thinking you actually like having me around.” Your cheeks flush, and you quickly look back down at the cutting board.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Hughes.”

“Oh, too late for that,” he says, laughing softly. But there’s something in the way he looks at you now—something darker, more intent—that makes your pulse quicken. As the two of you work together to prepare the meal, the atmosphere shifts. The teasing banter is still there, but it’s layered with something heavier, the air between you charged with an unspoken tension. Every glance, every accidental touch seems to linger, leaving you hyperaware of his presence.

By the time you’re sitting at the table, plates of food in front of you and glasses of wine in hand, the tension feels almost unbearable. Quinn raises his glass, his eyes meeting yours across the table. “To a quiet house and good company,” he says, his voice warm but his gaze steady, almost challenging.

You clink your glass against his, your heart pounding as you murmur, “To good company.” The conversation flows easily as you eat, but there’s an undeniable pull between you. Quinn’s leg brushes against yours under the table, and neither of you moves away. His fingers linger on yours for a moment too long when he hands you the wine bottle to pour another glass. Every laugh, every shared look seems to bring you closer, the space between you shrinking bit by bit.

After dinner, you find yourself leaning against the counter again as Quinn washes the dishes. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his forearms, and you catch yourself staring before quickly looking away. He glances over his shoulder, catching you in the act, and his lips twitch into that infuriatingly knowing smirk.

“Something on your mind?” he asks, his tone casual, but there’s a flicker of something more in his eyes.

“Just surprised you didn’t break any plates,” you quip, trying to keep your voice steady. He turns off the faucet, drying his hands before stepping closer, his proximity sending a jolt through you.

“You’re always so quick to underestimate me,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, his eyes locked on yours.

“I’m just realistic,” you counter, your breath hitching as he leans in, one hand bracing against the counter beside you.

“Is that so?” he asks, his voice a near whisper now, his face inches from yours. You can feel the warmth radiating off him, the intensity of his gaze holding you captive. For a moment, the world seems to pause, the air between you crackling with anticipation. But then, just as quickly, Quinn steps back, a playful grin on his face as he grabs a towel to finish drying the dishes.

“Guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong,” he says lightly, as if nothing had happened. You let out a shaky breath, your heart racing as you watch him. Something tells you this won’t be the last time Quinn Hughes leaves you breathless.

Later that evening, you find yourself sprawled on the couch, a movie playing on the TV as Quinn settles in beside you. The warmth of his body next to yours is both comforting and maddening, every slight movement sending your nerves into overdrive.

“You okay there?” Quinn asks, glancing over at you with a smirk as he notices your fidgeting.

“Fine,” you reply, your voice a little too quick. You shift slightly, putting a bit more distance between the two of you, though the effort feels futile. The space doesn’t help when his arm stretches out across the back of the couch, his fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says softly, leaning closer, his voice barely audible over the movie.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shoot back, refusing to meet his gaze. You can feel his eyes on you, though, studying you with that same quiet intensity that makes your stomach flip.

“You’ve been jumpy all night,” Quinn continues, his tone teasing but laced with curiosity. “Is it me? Do I make you nervous?” You let out a laugh that comes out shakier than you intended, finally turning to look at him.

“Quinn, you’re not nearly as intimidating as you think you are.”

“Oh, really?” he replies, raising an eyebrow. His hand drops from the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against your arm, and your breath catches. “You sure about that?”

“Positive,” you say, though the quiver in your voice betrays you. Quinn’s smirk deepens, and he leans in just slightly, his face so close now that you can see the flecks of blue in his green eyes.

“I think you’re lying again,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm. His hand lingers on your arm, his thumb tracing small, deliberate circles against your skin.

“Quinn—” His name comes out as barely a whisper, your heart pounding so loudly you’re certain he can hear it. “Why are you doing this?” The words come out of your mouth before you can even think about them, Quinn jolting away from you, a look of panic and confusion clouding his eyes, his mouth opening and closing as he thinks of what to say.

“This whole stupid bet, why did we let this happen?” You clarify, barely noticing the way Quinn relaxes a little the concerned expression falling from his face.

Quinn exhales slowly, his shoulders easing as he looks at you, his hand still lightly resting on your arm. His gaze softens, his usual teasing demeanour melting away. “Because I think we all wanted it to,” he admits, his voice low and uncharacteristically sincere.

Your breath catches at his words, the weight of them sinking in as the charged air between you becomes almost unbearable. “But what about Jack? Luke?” you ask, your voice trembling as you search his eyes for some kind of reassurance.

Quinn leans back slightly, running a hand through his hair. “Jack’s... complicated,” he says with a small, wry smile. “He’s protective and he has a lot of things going on in that tiny brain of his, but he’ll come around. And Luke—he just wants you to be happy, that’s all he’s ever wanted.” His eyes meet yours again, and for a moment, it feels like the world has shrunk down to just the two of you.

“And you?” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “What do you want?” Quinn’s lips twitch into a faint smile, but his gaze is intense, serious. “I want what’s best for you,” he says softly, his hand moving from your arm to gently cup your cheek. The touch is so tender it sends a shiver through you, and you instinctively lean into it.

“Quinn...” you start, but the words get caught in your throat as he leans closer, his forehead brushing lightly against yours.

“This bet has clearly gone further then any of us intended and I think we all have a lot to think about but it’s supposed to be fun.” Quinn says, his older brother tone kicking in, his words almost seeming like a reprimand as he adds, “You’re supposed to be having fun but it doesn’t seem like that happening anymore.”

“I am having fun.” You say quickly, “well kinda having fun.” The tension continues to sizzle around the room, Quinn’s hand still warm on your arm, his thumb still tracing soft circles.

“I’m sure we can make things more fun.” He says teasingly, his eyebrows lifting in surprise as you scoot forwards on the couch, your eyes meeting his before dipping down to his lips.

“I’m sure we could.” You agree, your mind screaming at you to stop and walk away - this is what got you into trouble in the first place. “I’ve already kissed two of you, why not get a hat trick.” You whisper, Quinn letting out a breath of laughter as he leans a little closer.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “If this isn’t what you want, just say the word, and I’ll back off.” His voice is steady, but you can see the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, the hesitance he’s trying to hide.

But stopping is the last thing you want.

Instead of answering, you close the small gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s soft and tentative at first, as if testing the waters. Quinn responds immediately, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer. The world around you fades away, and all you can focus on is the way his lips move against yours, the way his hand anchors you to him like he’s afraid to let go. When you finally pull back, both of you breathless, Quinn rests his forehead against yours, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips.

“Luke is still the best kisser.” You tease, Quinn’s smile dropping as he shoves you off the couch, a big pout on his face as you let out a bark of laughter, wishing you could take a photo of the oldest Hughes.

“Well that was barely a real kiss, just you wait.” Quinn says, his words holding a promise that sends a tingle down your spine.

The next morning, you wake to the sound of Quinn knocking softly on your door. His voice is muffled through the wood, but you can hear the teasing edge in his tone. “If you’re not up in ten minutes, I’m leaving without you.” You groan, dragging yourself out of bed and cracking the door open.

“What are you talking about?”

Quinn leans against the frame, an infuriating smirk on his face. “We’re going to the beach. Pack a bag—towels, sunscreen, whatever you need. I’ve got the rest.”

“You planned this without asking me?” you tease, though the thought of a beach day makes your heart lift.

“Spontaneity is good for you. Come on, move it!” he urges, tapping the doorframe before heading back down the hall. It doesn’t take you long to pack, and before you know it, the two of you are in his car, the lake house disappearing behind you as Quinn navigates the winding roads toward the coast. The windows are rolled down, and the salty breeze filters through as the scenery shifts from lush greenery to sandy dunes.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” he remarks, glancing at you as he changes lanes. “Second thoughts about spending the day with me?” You smirk, turning toward him.

“Just mentally preparing for the endless teasing I’m sure to endure.”

“Oh, you know me too well,” he says, his grin widening. “But you’ll survive.” The drive takes about an hour, the two of you falling into easy conversation as the miles pass. Quinn insists on singing along—badly—to a playlist he made, and you can’t help but join in, laughing so hard at his exaggerated falsetto that you have to wipe tears from your eyes. When you finally arrive, the beach sprawls out before you, the sun glinting off the waves and the sand warm underfoot. The sight is breathtaking, and you feel a sense of peace settle over you.

“Not bad, Hughes,” you admit as you step out of the car, taking in the view.

“Told you it’d be worth it,” he says, grabbing a cooler from the trunk. “Now, help me carry this stuff before you get too impressed.”

The two of you find a spot near the water, setting up a colourful umbrella and spreading out towels. As you kick off your shoes and dig your toes into the sand, Quinn sets to work unpacking the cooler.

“You ready to relax?” he asks, pulling out a couple of drinks and handing one to you.

“Ready to win at whatever dumb competition you’re planning,” you counter, taking the bottle from him.

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you think you can beat me?”

“Absolutely,” you say, tossing your sunglasses onto your towel and sprinting toward the water. “Race you!” Quinn lets out a laugh and takes off after you, his long strides quickly closing the gap. Just as you’re about to dive into the surf, he catches you, hoisting you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. You squeal, pounding lightly on his back.

“Put me down, you oaf!”

“Not until you admit defeat,” he teases, spinning you around as he wades into the waves.

“Never!” you cry, laughing as the cool water splashes against your legs. Quinn wraps his arm tighter around your legs as he wades deeper in the water taking in one deep breath before letting the two of you fall backwards the water engulfing you both. Quinn surfaces first, flinging his wet hair off his forehead, his hands reaching for you in the water, helping you steady yourself against the moving sea.

“You suck” you say, your voice lighter than you feel. Your hands clearing the water from your face as Quinn reaches forwards, gently pushing your wet strands away from your face, trying to tuck them neatly behind your ears.

“Maybe,” he replies, stepping closer. “But you like me anyway.” You roll your eyes, pushing him away lightly, though the moment lingers, the air charged with something unspoken.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of laughter and sunshine. You challenge each other to frisbee and volleyball, Quinn smugly claiming victory each time, though his moves are anything but fair. When you finally collapse onto your towels, exhausted and content, the sky is streaked with hues of pink and orange.

“Worth the drive?” he asks, handing you another drink as the two of you watch the waves lap against the shore.

“Definitely,” you admit, leaning back on your elbows. “Even if you cheated at literally everything.”

“Cheated? I think you mean ‘strategically outplayed,’” he counters, smirking as he leans closer, his shoulder brushing against yours.

You glance at him, the teasing words on the tip of your tongue fading as you meet his gaze. The playful banter dissolves, replaced by a quiet intensity that makes your pulse quicken.

“Quinn…” you start, but he shakes his head, his voice soft as he interrupts.

“Let me guess—you’re going to tell me Luke’s still the best at something?” His lips twitch into a smile, but his eyes search yours.

“No,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was going to say… thanks. For this.”

His expression softens, and he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Anytime,” he murmurs, his hand lingering by your cheek. “We should head back, it’s getting dark.” He says as he clears his throat, making quick work of packing up your stuff, insisting he can carry everything as you trail behind him, the situation almost identical to your date with Jack.

As you follow Quinn back to the car, a mix of emotions swirls inside you. The day had been perfect—a much-needed escape from the tension back at the lake house. But now, with the sun setting and the beach fading into the distance, you can’t help but feel the weight of the situation creeping back in.

Quinn loads the car in silence, his movements efficient but unhurried. When he finally settles into the driver’s seat and starts the engine, he glances at you, his expression unreadable. “You okay?” he asks, his tone gentle.

You nod, though your chest feels tight. “Yeah. Just… thinking.” He doesn’t push, but you can feel his curiosity. The drive back is quieter, the earlier laughter replaced by a comfortable, contemplative silence. The hum of the engine and the rhythmic passing of streetlights become a soothing backdrop as you lean your head against the window, the cool glass grounding you.

When you finally reach the lake house, the porch light is on, casting a warm glow over the front steps. Quinn parks the car and gets out, coming around to open your door before you can move. “Chivalry isn’t dead, huh?” you tease, though your voice is softer than usual.

“Not on my watch,” he replies, offering you a hand. You take it, the contact brief but electric.

Inside, the house is quiet, the absence of Luke and Jack palpable. Quinn sets the cooler down in the kitchen and stretches, his shirt riding up slightly to reveal a sliver of toned skin. You look away quickly, your cheeks heating.

“You hungry?” he asks, breaking the silence.

You shake your head. “Not really. Just tired.”

Quinn nods, leaning against the counter. “It’s been a long day.” He hesitates, his gaze flicking to you before he continues. “You know… if you ever need to talk about—well, anything—I’m here.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and you offer a small smile. “Thanks, Quinn. That means a lot.” You wipe your hands on your shorts your bikini still wet underneath your clothes. “I might go shower, maybe we can watch another movie?” You ask softly, Quinn nodding quickly as he insists on making your a sandwich cause what kind of date would he be if he didn’t feed you.

As you climb the stairs to your room, you can feel his eyes on you, a warmth in his gaze that lingers long after you’ve closed the door behind you. Slipping out of your swimmers and under the scalding water, you replay the day in your mind—the teasing, the laughter, the quiet moments that spoke louder than words. Quinn Hughes was proving to be more than just the easygoing, confident guy you thought you knew.

And that realisation is as thrilling as it is terrifying. All three of them had proven to be so different from what you always thought you knew. You’d known them since you were kids and yet they each had shown you a completely different side of them over the past few weeks.

As you slip into your pyjamas and brush your drying hair, you let out a long huff, you straighten out your sleep shorts, and tug on your extremely oversized New Jersey Devils training shirt you had stolen earlier in the summer from Jack, before creeping back downstairs, the wafting smells of a grilled cheese floating from the kitchen. You pause by the entryway as you watch Quinn move around the kitchen, his shoulders dropped forwards as he mumbles to himself under his breath clearly frustrated with something.

“Quinn?” You question softly as you take a small step further into the kitchen, his head flicking towards you, his eyes immediately dropping to the t-shirt your wearing and your exposed legs before flicking back up to your face with a frown.

You step closer, your heart pounding as Quinn runs a hand through his hair, his body tense in a way that you've never seen before. The faint sound of the grill sizzling in the background seems to fade into the quiet air around you, as though the whole world has slowed to a crawl. You catch his gaze, and there’s something raw in it—something that makes your breath catch.

“Are you okay?” you ask, your voice quieter than usual, as if any louder tone might break the fragile moment that feels suspended between you two. “You don’t look fine.” Quinn glances at you, eyes dark with something unreadable, before dropping his gaze to the floor, shifting uncomfortably. He doesn’t immediately answer, and you step even closer, this time reaching out to touch his arm. It’s almost electric, the heat from his skin seeping into your fingertips.

“I’m just... not sure about some things,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck as if the weight of the words is too much for him to bear. “Things with you... this summer... us.” You swallow, trying to steady the rapid beat of your heart. This isn’t just a conversation about friendship anymore, and you both know it. You lean in slightly, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body but not quite close enough to make the leap into whatever’s building between you.

“What do you mean?” you ask softly, the words barely above a whisper. Your hand slides from his arm to the side of his body, where it lingers, testing the waters. Quinn’s breath hitches. He seems to hesitate, eyes flicking from your face to the floor, then back again, like he’s fighting an internal battle.

“I’ve always cared about you,” he says finally, his voice a low rasp that sends shivers down your spine. “But lately, it’s different. I don’t know... I don’t know what it is, but every time you’re near me, I—” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as if he’s trying to hold back. But it’s too late. The tension between you two is palpable, thick like the heat of the kitchen. You can feel it humming in the space between you, making everything else feel irrelevant. “And Luke and Jack—” He pauses again.

“You don’t have to explain,” you murmur, moving even closer, your body now mere inches from his. Your voice is soft, but your words are firm, giving him the space to breathe without the pressure of clarifying himself. “I feel it too. But it’s hard, isn’t it? This... whatever this is.” He looks at you then, his gaze searching, raw with something deeper than just desire.

“Yeah. It is,” he admits, his voice rough, husky. His hand twitches as though it wants to reach for you but holds back, like he's unsure whether he has permission to cross that line. “They’re my brothers, I’m supposed to take care of them, put them first but this time—”

You take another step forward, your chest brushing against his ever so slightly, feeling the heat radiating off him, the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. Your breath catches, and the air around you both seems charged, heavy with unspoken words, unacknowledged feelings.

“Quinn...” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper, but the weight of his name on your lips feels like an invitation.

“This time I don’t want to put them first.” He resolves. His eyes darken in response, a flicker of something dangerous and thrilling flashing across his face before his hand finally, finally, reaches up to cradle your cheek. His touch is soft but firm, the warmth of his palm grounding you as his thumb gently strokes over your skin. The tension between you two is almost unbearable now. Every inch of your body screams for the contact you’ve both been avoiding all day.

He leans in slowly, his breath mingling with yours, and the world seems to disappear in that instant. Your heart hammers in your chest as you lift your hand, brushing lightly across his chest, feeling the hard line of his muscles beneath his shirt. His lips are just a breath away, and for a moment, neither of you moves. It’s as if the air itself is holding its breath, waiting for one of you to give in.

“Are you sure about this?” Quinn’s voice is thick with want, but there’s still hesitation in it, like he’s asking for your permission, even though his whole body is screaming the opposite.

You swallow hard, your fingers curling into his shirt as your other hand slides up to rest on his neck, pulling him closer. “I’m sure,” you whisper, the words barely audible but full of certainty.

And then, it happens.

His lips find into yours with a fierce urgency, his hands immediately cupping your face as if to make sure you’re real, that this isn’t just some fantasy. The kiss is hungry, full of pent-up desire, a perfect storm of longing and need. You kiss him back with equal intensity, the heat between you growing exponentially as your lips move together, desperate and demanding.

His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and without a second thought, you open to him, letting him deepen the kiss. He groans softly against your mouth, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel the tension in his body, the restraint slipping away as he presses you against him, your chest now flush with his.

This kiss, the one that Quinn has promised you yesterday when you teased him… was so worth the wait.

Your hands roam, pulling him closer, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt, tracing the lines of his shoulders as you move your lips from his mouth to his jaw, to the sensitive spot just below his ear. He hisses in response, one hand moving down your back to fist in your shirt pulling you even tighter against him, as he gives you a boost to sit on top of the counter, his lips finding yours again as he pulls your pelvis against his, his hands firm on your hips as he pushes the two of your together tightly.

“This is crossing a line.” Quinn hisses as he detaches his mouth from yours, resting his forehead against your own as he lets out shuddered breaths. His hands slipping under your shirt as he glances down at it, a soft growl leaving his throat. “This stupid fucking shirt, you should be wearing mine not his.” Your mouth drops open in surprise at the possessive tone in Quinns words, the older brother usually much more in control.

Quinn takes the opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, your head falling back to give him better access as you let out a soft breath, your hands tangling in his soft curls, his hips rolling against yours as he sucks harshly on your skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful, but you’d look so much better if there was no doubt about who you belong with.” Quinn whispers against your skin, moving his lips lower before beginning to suck again.

Your hips roll against his as he sucks a particularly sweet spot, his thumbs rubbing soft circles on the skin of your abdomen - the two of you jolting at the sound a suitcase hitting the floor. Quinn pulls away from you, the two of you shooting a glance over at the stunned hockey player standing in the entrance to the kitchen, a frown growing on his face as he takes the two of you in.

“Honey, we’re home— oh shit.” Luke’s voice carries through the silence, being the second body to make an appearance, his eyebrows raising in surprise as he takes in the sight, his smile turning in a smirk as he cocks his head to the side. “I know I said have fun but this seems like a little more then I was anticipating.” Luke lets out a soft laugh, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder who just shakes it off, his glare moving from his older brother to you.

“Fun?” Jack lets out a humourless laugh, his eyes dark as they lock with yours. “If you call whoring yourself out fun then she’s great at that.” You can’t help the way your body flinches at his words, Quinn letting out a scoff as he helps you slide off the counter, fixing your shirt before tucking you behind him, facing Jack with a frown.

“You wouldn’t be acting like this if she was doing it with you.” Quinn spits back, his arms crossing against his chest as he blocks Jacks sight of you, your hands gently gripping the hem of his shirt.

“She’s not better than a puck bunny at this point - look at her, she’s got fucking hickeys and she’s using this stupid bet to the best of her advantage.” Jack spits back, Luke elbowing his older brother in the side, telling him to ‘shut up’ as subtly as he can manage.

He’s not wrong.

Not entirely anyway.

“No look at them Luke, are you really okay with the fact that the girl you’ve been head of heels for is dry humping our brother.” Jack continues, your grip getting tighter against Quinn’s shirt as Jack’s words sink in. “This bet has become a way for her to act no better then a common slut.” Jack’s words are the final nail in the coffin as you let out a small whimper, your hands knotted in Quinn’s shirt the only thing stopping him from taking a step towards his younger brother.

“What the fuck man.” Luke says first, stepping away from Jack as he looks down at him in disgust. “Why would you say something like that, she’s our friend.” Luke continues, shaking his head in disbelief as he makes his way over to you, his eyes meeting Quinn’s for a fraction of a second as he scoops you up in his arms at the same time as Quinn rips his shirt from your grip, stalking towards his brother.

“Don’t listen to him, he’s being an idiot.” Luke whispers against your hair as Quinn’s words cut through the room.

“You’re just mad that this whole bet was your idea to try and get close with her and it hasn’t gone how you planned it to.” Quinn starts, Jack standing his ground as his older brother shoves harshly at his chest, “News flash Jack, not everything revolves around you, not everyone falls at your feet just because you want them to.” Quinn takes in a long breath, “She is a grown adult and can do whatever the fuck she wants and whoever the fuck she wants, so don’t get mad at her just because you can’t handle that you have feelings for her and she might not have the same feelings for you.” You’re almost choking on the anger radiating from the two brothers, Luke keeping your head buried in your chest as he strokes your hair.

“I wish we never did this stupid bet.” You whisper against his shirt as you pull yourself out of his arms.

“I… I don’t want to listen to this,” you mutter under your breath, your voice shaky, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. Your hands tremble as you try to push away from Luke again, the reality of the situation crashing down on you in waves. Every part of you wants to lash out, to make Jack understand how much his words hurt, but all you can manage is to turn away from the chaos, retreating into yourself. Luke’s protective instinct kicks in immediately. Without a word, he steps forward, his expression fierce, eyes narrowing as he places a firm hand on the small of your back, pushing you in front of him as he guides you towards the staircase.

“Enough,” Luke snaps, his voice low and threatening, but the kind of warning that makes even Jack hesitate. “You don’t get to drag her into this. Not like this.” His gaze flickers over to you, his eyes softening with concern. “Keep walking, let them sort their shit out,” he says, his voice soft but firm, reaching out for your hand. You meet his gaze, your eyes searching his face for a moment, before nodding weakly. The hurt still lingers in your chest, but Luke’s presence is like a shield, blocking out the venom of his brothers’ words to you and to each other.

“I’m sorry,” Luke adds quietly as he leads you up the stairs. “I should’ve never let it get this far.” His grip on your hand tightens, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him if he lets go. You follow him, your feet dragging as the anger and frustration churn in your stomach. You want to say something, want to confront Jack for what he said, but the words seem to die on your tongue, swallowed up by the sadness in your heart.

Luke doesn’t stop until you’re safely inside your bedroom, the door shutting softly behind you. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him. “Just... breathe, okay? You’re okay. You’re not what he said, and I’m sorry for all of this.”

“I didn’t... deserve that,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. Your hands move to cover your face, but Luke gently takes them in his own, guiding them back to your sides.

“You’re right. You didn’t,” he says, his tone firm but caring. “Jack’s an idiot. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. But we’ll fix this, alright? I promise you.” You nod slowly, the tears finally escaping, sliding down your cheeks as Luke wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. The warmth of his body, the steadiness of his heartbeat, is the only thing grounding you as the weight of everything finally catches up to you.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he murmurs against your hair. “This is a mess but we can fix it.” Luke keeps his arms around you as he walks towards your bed, only letting you go to let you slip under the covers, his hands making quick work of stripping off his shirt and kicking his shoes off before sliding onto the bed besides you, pulling you back into his arms as he lets out a long breath.

“Jack was right with some things.” Luke whispers, his warm breath fanning against the top of your head as he rests his chin there. “I am head over heels for you, and I think a part of me always has been, but I know my brothers feel something for you too and I’m not mad at you for exploring what you might feel for them.” Lukes words sink your heart into your stomach, your mouth dry as you think of what to say.

“I just hope that maybe whatever is between us is a little bit stronger, and I know that makes me selfish but a man can dream.” He lets out a bitter laugh as his hands stroke against your back.

“Luke…” you start, your voice getting caught in your throat as you feel him shake his head.

“I just needed to put that out there - I don’t expect anything but you deserve to know.” Luke cuts you off, his head moving slightly as he drops a soft kiss to your forehead. “Just sleep, we can deal with everything tomorrow.” Luke’s heart thunders in his chest, his hands steady on your back, his breath steadying out before yours does.

“I think I need to leave.” You whisper into the dark room, only brave enough to say the words once you’re certain Luke has fallen asleep.

#nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x reader #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes smut #luke hughes smut #jack hughes smut #quinn hughes x reader #luke hughes x reader #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fanfic #luke hughes fanfic #quinn hughes fanfic #mtbbw

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 21 days ago

Text

P*rn ☆ Introduction

Masterlist Word count: 1 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut. This part is setup. No graphic content yet.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

It's been fucking years! Not by your choice. No, not at all. You just hadn't had the time or the energy, but God do you crave it. It hadn't really bothered you the first year. You had gone on dates regularly, but despite your love for intimacy you need a certain level of connection before you lay down and take it. Sure, you had a few nice connections but no one that managed to turn you on.

Not like he does.

Ever since your regular booty call called it off, you started watching some adult content. At first nothing really seemed to call to you. You were flipflopping from category to category as if you were flipping through a magazine, leaving you high and dancing on the edge of full gratification every single time. Sure, you came but it never felt that great.

Then you found him.

Tall as a fucking mountain, grey hair, red eyes, sly smile, toned body, strong nose that's ever so slightly crooked. You even remember the little scar under his left eye. But what does it for you, most of all, is his voice. Low and gravely, constantly teasing and commanding. There's something more to it though. When he gets to the edge, it's almost as if he wants someone to take over and it fucking gets you going. Makes your panties go from bone dry to soaking wet in a matter of seconds.

Worst of all, the man has a TikTok page and a Tumblr page. Neither are all that suggestive. The TikTok has some thirst traps and workout videos, but the Tumblr page is a different story. On there, he reads spicy romance books to his audience. He had tried it before on YouTube but got taken down real fast. Those books, the way his voice picks up and changes with the story. It's truly something magical. You'd almost consider it better content than the videos of him stroking his dick, though you don't mind that those exist at all.

And today is Friday, which means he's posting a new chapter and there's a possibility of a new video on TikTok. Nothing too riveting but enough to get you going and keep you going for the weekend. You're looking at a long and satisfying weekend with your magic wand. Just one more hour until your shift is done.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

'Again?!' Sylus’ voice booms through the living room of his apartment. If it were any louder, the walls would shiver. 'I was so fucking careful this time,' he says through gritted teeth. His hand has a strong grasp on his phone, almost snapping the thing in his fit of rage.

"I don't know what to tell you man. Maybe someone followed you?" Kieran, the ever daft creator that makes spicy content with his friend Luke, tells him in the kindest voice he can must up. He knows just as well as Sylus that the man is impossibly popular. It all happened overnight just a year or two ago when he made a video humping a pillow and groaning praises to a nonexistant partner. Ever since then, he's been making content solo. It's doing much better than his partnered stuff used to.

It also came with unwanted attention. Sylus lives for the praises and truly feral comments on his socials and spicy content, but this. This goes too far. It's the third time in as many years he's been doxed. If it were a stalked he could go to the police but it seems to be someone different each time.

Sylus groans and runs a hand through his hair. 'I should move further away this time.'

"That's the understatement of the century. Just be glad they haven't got your name yet."

Yet. The word rings in Sylus’ head for a little longer than he would like it to. If those feral women and men got his name, he would never get any peace again. Sure, he was the one that decided to put his face in all those videos and that might've been stupid. It is stupid. Especially for someone who likes his privacy as much as Sylus does.

"Oh, Luke just said he knows a place for you. He has a friend who owns an apartment ages away from your place. He's been looking for someone to lease it to."

'I can trust this person?'

"Yes, for sure. I know this guy too. He's some flamboyant artist that owns too many properties to keep track of who lives where." Sylus sighs, a rumble going through his chest.

'Fine, get me the contact info.'

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

'You doing anything fun this weekend,' your friend and colleague Tara asks with a sweet smile. You almost spill and tell her, but she's far too pure to understand any of your desires. It'd be better to keep this friendship as wholesome as it is.

'Nothing much. I don't have any plans for once. I'm probably going to binge that TV show you recommended.'

'Oooh, tell me what you think about it,' she replies excitedly. At that moment, a car honks, and she looks up. Her lovely boyfriend is waiting for her in the car. 'See you soon,' she says with a quick wave and off she goes. The man even gets out of the car to open the passenger door for her. Such a nice man. He waves to you and you nod back. You know him a little, but he never comes along to any company events or dinners. If you're not mistaken, his name is Kieran. Nice guy.

You make your way to your car and drive home. Traffic is terrible but uneventful. All you can think about is sitting down on the couch at home and listening to whatever Red Crow has cooked up this time.

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revelboo · 1 month ago

Note

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t log on every day to check for updates to your Trine x Reader series (Skywarp you lil shit 💜) but I do hope you continue your writing with Thundercracker and his love of movies.

I definitely will, I enjoy writing them 😁 Shockwave and Optimus arrived, Skywarp and Thundercracker got delayed

True Romance Pt 12

Seeker Trine x Reader

• There’s something oddly comforting about feeling all three of them hold onto you. Not demanding anything more than this as you stare up at the sky. Like you just belong here with them and it lifts through you with an ache you don’t quite understand. Because Skywarp and Thundercracker are always reaching for you, but Starscream’s only just started to lose some of his frosty indifference. Watching you more, glancing at you while he’s working to check on where you are, who has you. Gruffly asking if you need anything, his wings fidgeting. You’d assumed he’d been annoyed at having to look after you, but maybe that’s just how he is. Wondering if maybe the aloof, distant act is just that- an act.

• Aware of his brothers around him, his trine together and at peace, the warmth of you against him, there’s the uncomfortable realization of how fragile this is. Finding you had been pure chance. You might not have survived the wreck. Might have run towards the Autobots instead of staggering his way. What he’s sure of? Skywarp and Thundercracker are happy and there’s nothing he won’t do to protect that. “I thought we could all watch a movie together when we go home,” you say, voice soft and hesitant. Asking. And that word, home, rings through him coiling warm about his spark. Because it’s right.

• “Not the sappy stuff,” Skywarp mutters, turning his face against your throat and venting. Because if Thundercracker picks, it’ll be a love story. It’s all he wants to watch lately. Since finding you. Feels your fingers brush a wing and he shivers slightly, leaning into the touch, wings flaring. Aware of Star shooting him a look to behave when it’s so hard when you don’t know what your soft touch does to him. Tempting him to bite the curve of your shoulder when you absently brush over his sensitive wings. Growling when Thundercracker reaches up to grab your wrist and pull your hand away.

• “Wings are sensitive,” Thundercracker says, gripping your hand to keep you from accidentally finding any other sensitive spots. Sees your face redden slightly as he rubs a servo against the back of your hand. “Like mesh.” Carefully tugging your hand so your fingertips brush his neck. Shivering despite himself and avoiding Star and Sky’s optics as they stare at him. Judging the little teaching lesson, recognizing that he’d just wanted to feel you touch him.

• And everything just sort of shifts even though you have no idea what just happened. Aware of a tension that hadn’t been there just a second ago as Thundercracker keeps your hand trapped in his, servos rubbing absently against you like you’d been touching Skywarp’s wings. “I don’t care if you touch my wings,” Skywarp grumbles, looping an arm around your neck, face so close to yours you can feel it when he vents, brushing his cheek to yours so your skin prickles with awareness. And then Star is gently pulling Thundercracker’s hand from yours.

• “Everyone keep their hands to themself.” Stiffening when you pull your other hand from his helm, Starscream has to resist the urge to pull it back to him after just saying that. Because he understands Skywarp’s grumpy muttering. You’re soft and warm. And absolutely off limits. Even if Skywarp is right and you are compatible that way, he’s not interested in the drama of his trine squabbling over you. Which means keeping the other two and himself in line to keep the peace. Resisting the temptation that you pose, something that had never occurred to him might be an issue. Realizing he likes the feel of you against him a bit more than he should.

#transformers x reader #starscream x reader #idw starscream #skywarp x reader #idw skywarp #thundercracker x reader #idw thundercracker #seeker trine x reader

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wolfiesmoon · 1 year ago

Text

I can't sleep

Ran x good girl!reader

Do i want a bad boy (literal criminal) bf? Yea but i would probably cry if he insulted me or got into trouble in any capacity at all

(i am totally not unironically vibing to pretty little psycho while writing this)

edit: i made a part 2!!

"I dare you to kiss Haitani Ran." Your friend nudged you.

You knew you shouldn't have agreed to this stupid game of truth or dare. You knew your friend was going to make you do stupid stuff like this.

"Like... the big scary delinquent guy?" You asked, hoping you heard her wrong.

"Yeah, that Haitani Ran." Your friend smirked mischeviously.

"How about I don't do that?" The last thing you'd want to do is get involved wth any delinquents or gangs. You have no idea how dangerous Ran could be and even if he wasn't you'd still refuse to kiss a good for nothing delinquent.

"Are you trying to get me killed?" you followed up, realising just how bad this dare could end up.

"You do know that refusing this dare means that you have to do anything I say for a week, right?" Your friend had a horribly evil look on her face. You don't even want to know the things she would make you do if you refused this stupid dare.

But is kissing Ran any better? Pick your poison, you suppose.

"Fine, I'll do it." You said behind clenched teeth, not at all happy about this outcome. You've never even kissed before, and now you have to kiss freaking Ran Haitani. You might actually die.

Why did you agree? What is wrong with you?

This might just be the worst day of your life.

You ended up being a little unfocused in class, making your teacher worry.

"Haitani-san." you call out to him, your voice dying off slightly at the end due to nerves. You're the only ones left in the classroom, with your friend watching from behind the door to make sure you actually do it. He looks back at you and you feel a shiver run through you.

Oh my god, you're actually doing this.

He stops, waiting to see what you want with him. You move closer to him, and his eyes narrow slightly, as if he's getting a good look at you.

"Now, what could the class president herself possibly want with me?" his tone was slightly mocking and you would have showed him you're not to be messed with but honestly you'd probably be the one losing in that scenario.

You inhaled sharply, pulling him down by his braids and planting a kiss straight onto his lips. This feels like a bad shojo plot, the "good girl" falls in love with the "bad boy" and kisses him all of a sudden. Except there's no romance involved here. Just a dare.

Is this how you kiss? Why does it feel so strange? That should be enough, right? You can feel your parents shaking their heads dissaprovingly already.

Ok, now you're just kissing him for way too long. It's time to let go. And you try to, you really do. Since when were his arms wrapped around your waist, anyways? And why isn't he letting you go?!

You can feel your friend's evil stare burning into your back. This is not amusing!

He laughed a little into the kiss, pulling you impossibly closer. Oh, so they're both going to enjoy your suffering now, you see how it is.

Still, kissing him isn't half ba-

Ok, you're actually losing it. You need out and fast.

You wriggled out of his grasp, running away as fast as your legs could take you. You heard both Ran and your friend yell something behind you but you honestly don't care.

Why did you ever agree to do this?!

That same thought persisted even as you tossed and turned in bed that night.

"Oh god, he's going to send his goons after me and I'm gonna die... And then I won't ever get to become successful..." you muttered to yourself.

"Or maybe he's gonna come and kill me myself after school tommorow... Ugh..." you can't come to school tired, you won't be able to pay attention in class that way. You can't ruin your perfect record by falling asleep in class.

Who cares about the perfect record?! You should be worried for your life!

"And what is that stupid noise, anyways?" you muttered, grumbling and getting up to inspect the source. Another stone hits the window, making you jump slightly. You walk to the window and open it, narrowly avoiding a stone that was thrown your way.

"Sorry!~"

Wait. You'd recognise that voice anywhere.

It's Ran.

"What are you doing here? How did you even get my adress?" you half yelled, not wanting to wake up your parents.

"You shouldn't sweat the little things. Come downstairs." he was smiling calmly, but you still couldn't tell if he was threatening you. Actually, is that his motorcycle parked next to him?

"You should probably put on a jacket too. It's real cold." he added on, and you nervously closed the window, quietly sneaking downstairs and putting on a jacket. Your pyjamas are not the most presentable, but you really don't want to test his patience right now.

You met him outside. What is he going to do to you now?

"Get on." he pointed to his bike, catching you off guard.

"Not without a helmet, riding a motorcycle without one can be really dangerous and you could lose your life." you couldn't help but bring up safety regulations. It's in your nature.

"I told you, don't sweat the details and just sit down." he completely ignored you, pushing you in the direction of the bike. You complied, sitting down on it awkwardly, not sure what to expect. He doesn't seem violent...

He sat down behind you, revving up the engine and just driving off without a care in the world.

"W-Wait!" you were shocked at the speed, grabbing onto him by instinct and missing the way his lips curved up at that.

"Where are you taking me?! I never consented to this!" you had to yell over the sound of the engine, shutting your eyes. He was right, it really is cold when you're riding on a motorcycle.

"And you know what I didn't consent to? That kiss." he replied and your face scrunched up a little, cringing at the not so distant memory. "But that's fine, because that means you're mine now."

"Huh?!" you finally opened your eyes, looking up at him. His expression was a little hard to make out since the only thing illuminating it was street lights that you were speeding past. Is he even following the speed limit?

"I value my sleep, you see. And that little stunt you pulled made me unable to fall asleep. So I figured I might as well give you a little visit." he placed a hand over you protectively, making you worry about your safety even more.

"Who would have thought the top of the class good girl would fall for me?" he looked down at you.

"I did not fall in love with you! It was a dare!" you shot back.

"Oh well, doesn't matter. You're my girl now. And that's that."

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incognit0slut · 7 months ago

Text

Much Ado About Nothing (Act III, Scene II: The Dangerous Game)

An unexpected tension rises between you as Spencer dangerously blurs the line of your fake relationship.

Part warning: Sexual tension. Lots of it. And... body description? Basically Spencer gets a little handsy and has a boner😭 Words: 2.8k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

You should’ve known this would happen. Deep down, given the lie you were maintaining, you had suspected that you'd end up sharing a room together. You were dragging your suitcase behind you—because a duffel bag wasn’t enough for all your stuff despite staying just one night—when Penelope pulled you away from the group.

“You and lover boy are staying in the room on the second floor, the one on the corner left.”

You frowned, your eyes darting between Penelope and Spencer, who was grabbing his bag from the car. “I really don’t think that’s necessary,” you reasoned, trying to come up with an excuse. “I mean… Reid and I just started dating, we haven’t… you know.”

Penelope flashed you a smile. "Then maybe it's the perfect time to… you know.”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks. "Pen, no, we should probably—"

She cut you off with a dismissive wave of her hand. "It’s just for one night. Besides, you know it’s the best room here—great view, lots of space. It would be a waste for it not to be enjoyed by the new couple."

You narrowed your eyes on her.

“It’s also the only room with a lock.”

You made a face. The thought of sharing a room with Spencer, especially one with a lock, sent a wave of anxiety through you. Memories of that night flooded your mind, making the situation feel even more daunting. You felt your cheeks flush again, your heart pounding faster. It took every ounce of your self-control to smooth your expression back into something neutral.

"Alright," you said, forcing a smile. “Fine.”

Penelope beamed, clearly pleased with herself. "Great!” She gushed, pulling her suitcase. “Because there are no available rooms left.”

You sighed inwardly, realizing there was no way out of this. You watched her enter the house, leaving you to gather your thoughts alone. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. Maybe sharing a room with Spencer would be manageable.

After all, it was just one night. You had handled more complicated scenarios in your line of work, hadn’t you? You had faced near-death experiences. If you could negotiate with armed suspects, how hard could one evening of pretend romance be?

Extremely hard, you realized, because when Spencer slowly approached you, all you wanted was for the ground to swallow you whole.

“What?” he asked, probably noticing the look of sheer panic on your face.

You tried to find the proper way to say it, searching for words that might soften the blow. But there was no other way than to tell it how it was.

“We’re... we’re sharing a room,” you finally managed to say.

There was a pause, and then there it was, the elephant in the room. But you both avoided acknowledging it directly, as you always did, so he simply cleared his throat and looked away.

“Okay,” Spencer said quietly, his eyes fixed on some distant point.

“Okay?” You echoed. “You’re really okay with this?”

He glanced back at you. “Look, weren’t you the one who wanted to make this convincing? Sharing a room might help with that.”

You sighed, knowing he was right but still feeling the weight of the situation. “Yeah, I guess so. It’s just...”

“It’s just one night,” he snapped. “We’ll manage.”

Oh, wow, he was going to be a bitch about it.

His tone was sharp, dismissive, and it grated on your nerves. This whole situation was already uncomfortable, and his attitude was only making it worse. The last thing you needed was him to act like this was some minor inconvenience when it felt like so much more. You threw a glare at him.

“Fine,” you shot back. “But you’re taking the floor.”

He didn’t respond, he just kept looking at you with that same unreadable expression. His silence was infuriating. It was as if he couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge your frustration, and that only fueled your anger more. Without another word, you stormed away, seething, dragging your suitcase as you left him standing alone in the driveway.

Maybe he shouldn't have snapped at you. Spencer knew it wasn't fair to take his frustration out on you, especially when you were both stuck in the same awkward predicament. But it was hard to act as if everything was fine when the reality of your situation weighed so heavily on his mind.

Sometimes he wished he wasn’t wired like this. He knew he had the tendency to overthink, to let anxiety get the better of him, or to struggle with situations that required emotional skill. He could handle high-pressure situations in the field, but dealing with personal relationships was hard for him. It was never his intention to push people away when he felt overwhelmed, but it happened way too often, and today was no exception.

He also knew he needed to work on that. But to do so, it required him to confront his traumas, and that was the last thing he wanted to face. So instead, he pulled his sunglasses down and opened his book because nothing screams a good coping mechanism like reading fiction to avoid reality.

And his reality now was you.

“What are you doing?”

He peered over his glasses and saw Derek hovering above him. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Like you’re brooding.”

“I’m reading.”

“I can see that,” Derek said as he settled on the lounge chair beside him. “What I meant was, what are you doing out here alone? Where’s your girlfriend?”

Spencer had asked himself the same question. You weren’t there when he dropped his bag in your shared room, you were also missing during lunch, and when he realized that you were avoiding him on purpose, he decided to change into more comfortable clothes and head out to the pool.

“She’s around,” Spencer replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Needed some alone time, I guess.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise already? You two just started dating.”

“It’s not that. We’re just…” He thought of a way to explain the situation without giving too much details. “We’re adjusting to the whole team knowing about us. It’s a bit overwhelming.”

“You’re both overthinkers, that’s the problem. Just relax and enjoy the weekend,” Derek suggested, leaning back in his chair before giving him a pointed look. “And maybe try spending some time with her instead of hiding behind that book.”

“I’m not hiding,” Spencer shot back without looking up from the pages.

“Sure you’re not,” Derek replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Just saying, kid, you’re here to have fun. Maybe try doing that with your girlfriend.”

He turned a page over, not saying a word. When Derek realized he was purposely ignoring him, he leaned closer.

"Let me give you some advice about women."

Spencer wrinkled his nose, already dreading what was coming. "I’m not sure I want to listen to this."

"Trust me, you do," Derek insisted. "First off, this," he said, pausing for emphasis before pointing his finger toward Spencer’s book. "Is not cute."

Spencer flipped over his book, revealing the cover with its title printed in bold letters. In Cold Blood. "Of course not. It's a detailed account of the 1959 murders in—hey!"

Before he could continue, Derek reached out and plucked the book from his hands. "Not this. You," he said, pointing the book at him. "No wonder she's off doing her own thing while you're glued to this."

Spencer furrowed his brow. "She's the one who—"

"No. No." Derek placed the thick paperback down on the small table between them. "Second piece of advice about women, they're always right. Or, at least, they think they are, and sometimes it's easier and wiser just to go along with that."

"That's hardly practical advice."

Derek laughed, leaning back comfortably. "You don't have to agree with everything, but showing that you value her perspective can go a long way."

"She’d be easier to deal with if she wasn’t so stubborn.”

"Reid, do you even hear yourself? You sound like you don't even like her."

Spencer paused, an uncomfortable realization dawning on him. He was supposed to be playing the part of a devoted boyfriend, not a grumpy one. He was supposed to keep up the act.

"Fine," he sighed reluctantly. "What should I do then?"

"Be present. Stop isolating yourself and go talk to her."

"I don't even know where she is."

“Then go find her," Derek said matter-of-factly, his eyes drifting across the pool. He nodded his head. "Speak of the devil.”

Spencer turned in the direction Derek pointed, pushing his sunglasses up with a finger as they slid down his nose.

Then he froze. His brain promptly shut down as if someone had flipped a switch. His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, his jaw slacking open, his mind startlingly blank as he watched you step out of the house wearing what he assumed was a swimsuit. The top had straps that crisscrossed in a way that seemed overly complicated to him, and the bottoms were minimal, barely covering your skin.

Your swimsuit left very little to the imagination and he found himself momentarily stunned. He felt an unexpected tightness in his throat and a sudden warmth pooling in his chest. The heat surged through his body before it focused right between his legs, and he forced himself to clench his thighs together as he snapped his mouth shut.

Derek cleared his throat beside him.

"I guess you do like her," he teased, picking up the book from the table before dropping it onto Spencer's lap. "You might want to hide that."

Spencer’s face turned a deep shade of red as he quickly tried to adjust the book to cover himself better. His mortification grew as he noticed you standing close by, your attention directed towards Derek.

"Hey Morgan, can I steal my boyfriend for a sec?" you asked, smiling a little too sweet.

"He's all yours, pretty girl," Derek replied with a grin, standing up before he left you two alone. When he was out of earshot, you sat on the chair he had occupied.

"We've been away from each other far too long," you commented, your voice hushed. "It's not looking good for us."

Spencer nodded absently, trying to focus on your words. But his attention was too focused on the bottle of sunscreen in your hand.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

He shook his head.

“You have," you pointed out, popping open the cap. "Well, maybe I have too, but that’s not the point."

Spencer shifted uncomfortably, his eyes following the movements of your hands as you squeezed some sunscreen onto your palm.

"We need to do something," you continued. Your palms rubbed the lotion together at the same time his tongue darted out to lick his lips nervously. "If we keep avoiding each other, they’ll start to suspect us."

He nodded again, his mind half on your words and half on the way the sunscreen glistened on your skin as you started applying it to your arms. "You're right," he admitted, forcing himself to concentrate. "We need to be more convincing."

"Exactly," you pressed, unaware of his growing distraction. "We should start doing things that couples do. Spend time together, be seen together."

"Yeah," he echoed, his gaze drifting as you moved to apply sunscreen to your shoulders. “Together.”

"And we should show more affection," you added, and his breathing hitched slightly when your hands moved to apply sunscreen across your chest, fingers brushing subtly along the upper swell of your breasts. It was a casual motion for you, but for him, it was torture. His eyes followed the path of your hands, his mind struggling to stay focused on anything else.

"And I know you don’t like holding hands, or any type of PDA for the matter," you continued, turning slightly, giving him a clearer view of your chest. "But I think it's necessary. It makes this whole thing look real.”

"Uh-huh," he mumbled, his focus slipping again as your hand moved lower, smoothing lotion over your stomach and inching toward your hips. His throat felt dry, and he unconsciously pressed the book harder against his lap.

“Really? You’re okay with that?”

He blinked, forcibly pulling his eyes up to meet yours, hoping you were oblivious of where his gaze had lingered behind his shades.

“Yes." He winced when his voice came out high-pitched and strained. He cleared his throat, and repeated in a more controlled voice, “Yes.”

“Huh.”

He shifted nervously. “What?”

“Nothing.” You looked away, now focusing on your legs. “I just didn’t expect you to agree.”

He hadn’t planned to, but it was hard to think straight when he was too focused on the way you were leaning down, smoothing the lotion over your thighs. The angle gave him a clear view of your breasts peeking out from your top, the thin fabric barely containing them, and he had to bite his lip to suppress a moan.

“Great, they’re still staring at us,” you noted with a quick glance over your shoulder. You handed him the bottle of sunscreen. “Here, help me put it on my back.”

His eyes widened. “I don’t think—“

But you were already laying down on your stomach on the lounge chair, pushing your hair to the side. “Come on, it’ll look more natural if you help me.”

Maybe you were right, maybe this was necessary, but he couldn’t help recalling the last time he had his hands on you and how that night had turned out. But he convinced himself that this was different. You both were out in the open and surrounded by your friends, so nothing could go wrong.

Nothing serious, anyway.

He moved to your chair while keeping his book securely on his lap, and you caught sight of his awkward movements. “You know you could just put the book down.”

“No, I… I think I’ll keep it with me.”

“You must really like that book.”

He forced a small laugh, trying to appear casual. “Yeah, it’s, uh, a good read.”

You frowned, clearly not buying it but choosing not to push further. He then took a deep breath and poured some sunscreen into his hands. He moved closer, the book still awkwardly balanced on his lap, and slowly placed his hands on your back.

Your skin was warm, just like how he had imagined it. Soft and smooth under his fingertips. He started at your shoulders, working his way down with slow, careful motions. He could feel the tension in his body as he focused on you, acutely aware of every inch of skin under his fingers.

You had grown quiet, and Spencer noticed the subtle change in your breathing—how it had deepened and slowed. Your usual witty remarks were replaced by a tense silence that seemed to hum with something neither of you had expected to surface. He felt your muscles relax under his touch, and as he reached the lower part of your back, he paused, unsure.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “You can go lower... if you need to.”

He nodded slightly, though you couldn’t see it, and shifted his position. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin, the subtle shifts of your body as you adjusted to his touch. Then his hands slipped a bit further down, his fingers brushing the top of your swimsuit line.

“Let me know if I need to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and almost hesitant.

You didn’t respond immediately, and he took your silence as permission to continue. His pulse quickened as he realized the line he was crossing. This was already dangerous territory, but he couldn’t help it. Not when he was this close to feeling your soft flesh beneath his fingertips. Not when the rush of blood to his groin was making him lose all sense of control.

He carefully slipped his fingers just under your swimsuit. When you made no move to stop him, his fingers dipped dangerously lower, his gaze intently fixed on your face. He observed your mouth part slightly, eyes closed and brows knitted together in a mix of surprise and something else he couldn't quite place.

He was so focused on your expression, the way your body responded to his hands, that he nearly missed the soft, almost breathless sigh that escaped your lips. The sound was unmistakably intimate, downright sinful and he immediately stopped. His hands hovered just above your skin as you quickly opened your eyes, realization dawning on both of you.

"I-I'm sorry, I—" he started, pulling his hands back, the book almost falling from his lap.

"No, it's... it's okay," you said quickly, sitting up and adjusting your swimsuit, a flush creeping up your neck. “I… uh...”

You looked at each other, silent for a heartbeat. Then you both began to speak at the same time.

“I’m gonna—”

“I should probably—”

You cleared your throat, beginning to stand up. “I’m gonna grab a drink. Do you want anything?”

Spencer shook his head, a tight smile briefly crossing his face. “No, I, uh, I’m good. Thanks.”

There was an awkward silence before you finally snapped. You quickly turned and hurried away, leaving Spencer to himself as he sat there, his body betraying a level of sexual frustration that was both inconvenient and embarrassing. The bulge in his pants was almost painfully obvious at that point, forcing him to adjust the book on his lap with a grimace.

His eyes involuntarily flickered back to you, only to regret it instantly as he caught a glimpse of your ass peeking from the bottom of your swimsuit. He let out a sigh. He might actually need a cold drink after all, or better yet, a whole bucket of ice.

#much ado about nothing #gifwriting #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid series #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction

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jaal-ama-daravv · 2 months ago

Text

dissecting the mortal emmrich romance path scene

dissecting the graveyard scene

mortal vs lich romance path

emmrich x rook cinematic (mortal)

lich version dissecting the alternate romance path dissecting the argument scene (lich path) dissecting the romance scene (lich path) emmrich x rook cinematic

welcome back my dears

Emmrich Volkarin - Choosing Mortality/Resurrecting Manfred

gonna start with how MUCH I love rook defending emmrich and therefore instilling confidence in him throughout the game, however it is particualry noticeable in this segment.

oh yes

after being knocked on his ass from johanna skeleton construct he is visibly hurt, but this is both physical and emotional pain. I implore you once again to read The Flame Eternal for context behind Emmrich and Johanna.

emmrich's fear of death and cowardice rearing its head in the face of untold danger, until our beloved manfred makes the ultimate sacrifice, and demonstrates great courage.

oh baby, thats the stuff. Rook instilling confidence in her necromancer.

god is real and he is a hot necromancer. look at the confidence surge through him.

moving on

The scene cuts to Emmrich and Rook at the Necropolis asking to revive Manfred. Emmrich seeks out the advice from the Lich Lords of the Necropolis who inform that there are ways to return his spirit, at a cost -

alright here we go. If emmrich chooses manfreds life over accepting his death, he will no longer be able to achieve lichdom as emmrich wouldve have failed to accept death as a natural part of life. in emmrich relinquishing lichdom and choosing to revive manfred instead it delves deep into his character. for emmrich to give up lichdom would mean admitting that some things mean more to him than his fear of death - that choosing to live, that he could choose to be couragous, and face life head on, in spite of inevitable death. emmrich is a known coward, but this - choosing this path, means being resilent, being courageous, overcoming cowardice in the name of love.

it should also be noted that in the lich romance path, during the arguemnt scene, emmrich is not able to accept the inevitable death of rook. THEREFORE -

im telling you. man goes rogue, full blown, scarlet WITCH, rogue.

back to the mortal side -

this is actually tragic. if you know both romance paths for emmrich, you know that regardless of which path emmrich follows, he does not accept death when it comes to himself, his love, or manfred. he just cant. this game portrays regret wonderfully, so wonderfully i cry.

Rook's right, emmrich is much braver than he thinks. he rushes off to help rook FIGHT GODS, facing death every day considering we all know a romanced rook takes him on every mission. emmrich has also mentioned TWICE that rook inspires him, with how they have travelled so much, and how they are indomitable.

dont get me started on how confident he is in act 3. it makes me giggle.

this next line has confused a number of people so let me put my spin on it and break it down -

Death's abyss - referring to the act of dying, and emmrichs fear of death always recedes - the fear of death dissapears with someone to brave it for - inferring to rook, facing death and being brave is easier with rook in his life

these two are made for eachother. mourn watch rook in particular, the love, desire, and connection OOZES that destiny. and my heart, explodes.

This could also be interpreted as wanting to brave death's abyss for manfred, but from a romanced rook perspective, it makes more sense for it be considered as rook. and im unsure what unromanced looks like yet - so im going with that.

this line reiterates my point that the above line is referring to rook. facing alot of things would be easier if manfred was back... like idk, rooks death, maybe.

I cant tell you how much love shoots through my body knowing emmrich wants to face death and brave it for rook. which also makes the argment scene more tragic in a way, but we'll get there dear friends.

In choosing this path, Emmrich demonstrates resilence. and whilst he regrets the lose of lichdom, he knows that he has chosen the life he has always dreamed of. a life of love. a life with his eternal flame, rook. a life with their magic flinging skeleton son, manfred. an undying love that transcends. emmrich has yearned for the love he has in his life now, for a very, very long time. talking 45 odd years here. the man is terrfied, and lichdom was a way to avert his fears, but this, he is truly happy, despite his fears.

@askfordoodles reminded me of a banter dialogue that is available between Emmrich and Davrin. They discuss their sons, Assan and Manfred, and Davrin states, "What have we signed up for?", where Emmrich responds, "Love, I think." and yes, that most defintiely includes rook. emmrich, chose love. whilst it is stated that lichdom is his lifes work and dream. coming from someone who also overworks and grinds out work to get through the weight of the day without a thought of vulnerability. I understand him. When a chance of love opens its doors, its scary, a chance to be hurt. this man took that chance, to have the family he never had growing up. and never believed he would achieve. rook gave him back his heart and made him stronger for it. emmrich chose to pursue the life that his parents would've wanted for him. the thought...the dream.. that confirms his romance.

im not crying, you are. holy shit.

keep in mind this is man who grew up poor and alone. he has low self-esteem and never believed he was worthy, let alone would find the type of soul devouring love he craved. that love that you would go to the end of the earth for.

my heart is full.

He calls himself a coward on a frequent basis. but here? what growth. whilst his fear of death may never leave him, it is significantly easier with rook that loves him as deeply as he does. and manfred, a son to pass his knowledge onto.

it then ends with Emmrich stating that in regards to him giving up lichdom for manfred, he would not exchange the life he has now for anything. his now family -

"The Volkarins"

short-ish post, but the next one will be very long where I'll touch more on Emmrichs personality traits more in the argument scene as this is where his traits really shine through, see you soon ♥

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lovrre · 8 months ago

Text

Agreement prt1

Art Donaldson x Fem black reader

Warnings: cursing, infidelity(kinda), slight smut (fingering) sub ish Art. Slight he loves her more trope, needy Art and probably some other stuff

Word count: 2k

Summary: Despite being engaged to one of the top and richest tennis players in the US, you feel unfulfilled. But everything changes when you transfer schools and meet Art Donaldson, who just can’t quit you.

Author note: GUYS GUYS, PLEASE DON’T KILL ME. MY WRITERS BLOCK HAS BEEN SO BAD YOU DONT UNDERSTANDDD, But I’m finishing all my requests and unfinished fics soon so stay tuned. 😚

Sitting on the bed in your brand new silk pajamas, you found yourself distracted, just like you had been the day before and the day before that. You played with The edge of the book you were attempting to read,mindlessly repeated the last sentence over and over in your head trying to retain anything. The loud television and the whirring of the ceiling fan only added to the chaos. Plus the freezing cold air conditioning of the hotel room made it impossible to concentrate.

In a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of focus, you clumsily reached for the remote, hoping to silence at least one of the distractions. your eyes falling on your fiancé who was sleeping peacefully, his dark hair all messy, in his crisp white t-shirt that matched perfectly to the expensive hotel sheets, he looked so sweet,so innocent. You thought if he slept more, maybe everything could work out

Mike slept while snuggled into your side. Like he often did when you two shared a bed, You had attempted to remove him several times but every time he ended right back at your side so you gave up, In any other scenario his action would seem romantic but they only made you feel worse than you were already feeling. In an effort to relieve some guilt you liked to reminded yourself your engagement was never out of love but business. But then again the line did blur in the beginning of your relationship. Before you left for Stanford, you and Mike got caught up in the act of pretending be in love.

After that you could never really tell real from fake with him, he didn’t like you talking to other men. He’d shower you with really expensives grift but then leave town and not answer your calls or text for days. But when no one was watching he’d try to hug and kiss you. The whole thing was confusing, You had known idea how he persived your relationship but you knew You Felt guilty, without all the technicallys, you knew that you still lied,

The people ate up the role you and Mike played. occasionally you’d have to leave campus and go out in public holding hands or sharing kisses in the rain. But it was all for show, at least on your end. Your Dad made sure to reminded you That, it was the love sick tennis player in love with his coaches daughter that sold tickets. kept the stands full of women hoping to catch the world win romances in action. Also Brought in a large number of his clientele. He promised It wouldn’t be forever unless you wanted to be. And Really how could you complain? 20 years old engaged to One of the wealthiest and most talented tennis players in the world and he wasn't bad looking either. Before all this, you weren't too keen on love anyway, so what were you really missing out on?

~~~

Ten months before

Patrick serves but Art's attention is elsewhere. The ball zooms past Art for the second time, prompting Patrick to turn around and finally see who's behind him. His gaze lands on you, playing tennis alone on a smaller court. The sun shining off your smooth, glistening skin, and your pink tennis dress gracefully flowing with each jump and run.

"Oh, I get it," Patrick chuckles, glancing back at Art. "She's hot. You should talk to her, maybe offer her a lesson. She could use it," Patrick suggests, looking back at you as you let another tennis ball from the machine fly past you . "I think I've seen her somewhere before," Patrick mutters, tapping his racket against his leg.

Still in a daze, Art jogged over to your court. "Oh, you're serious," Patrick murmured watching as he went over to you following closely behind him. "Hi," Art greets, slightly out of breath walking up to the net. "Hi?" you respond, slightly confused, giving him a small wave.

"Are you new here?"

"To the school or the court?" You ask

"Both."

"I'm new to both” you say a little breathless wiping sweat from your forehead.

“I just transferred," you explain.

"Where did you go before?"

"A small community college in Virginia."

"What about tennis?"

"You have a lot of questions," you laugh, tapping your tennis racket against your leg.

"Im just curious “Art jokes.

"I'm just doing this because my fiancé is a tennis player. I thought I'd try to learn," you reveal.

“Finance?” Art questions.

“Yep”

“ how old are you like 20?”

“ actually 19, I turn twenty in a couple months”

“And you're getting married?” Art asked clearly dumbfounded

“Yes” you laugh at his forwardness

", is he a pro or college?", Art asked, assuming the answer would be college.

“Pro," you replied, letting your curls fall freely from your hair tie. Art couldn't help but admire how beautiful you were,too young to be tied down

"Anyone we would know?" Art asks following you as you walk over to the bench with your tennis bag. "Hmm, maybe," you hum, sitting down to tie your shoe. "Mike Fitts."

"Your fiancé is Mike Fitts!" Patrick exclaims a little too loudly. "Mhmm," you confirm, starting to tie your other shoe. "If Mike Fitts is your fiancé, why are you here?"

"Are you referring to the court or the school?" you ask, looking up at both Art and Patrick.

"Both," Art and Patrick respond in unison.

You chuckled as you stuffed your tennis racket into your bag. "Well, whether I'm engaged or not, I always planned to graduate college. And Mike is too busy right now to teach me, so I'm trying to teach myself."

The two of them nod in understanding as you stand up. "It was really nice meeting both of you, but I have class," you announce, throwing your tennis bag over your shoulder. "By the way, it would be great if you guys could keep the whole fiancé thing on the down low. I'm trying to keep it as quiet as possible for now."

"Yeah, no problem," one of them replies.

"Of course," the other adds.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it," you say giving them a small smile before turning around to leave the court.

just as you're about to walk away, Art calls out after you, "Wait! You said you're trying to learn, right? we could coach you if you want” Patrick gives him a look and Art ignores it waiting for your response.

You pause, considering the offer.

”the both of you?” you asked gesturing between them. Art gives you a nod. at that moment The risk didn't seem too big so you said

. "Sure," with small shrug

"How about tomorrow at 12:30?" you suggest, checking the pink Bvlgari watch Mike got you.

"Perfect," Art responds with a shit eating smile

“Ok see you guys ” you laugh walking out the court

~~~~~~

“Yeah see” Patrick says reading a newspaper. “Olympic coach, Dylan yLn, Daughter engaged to Olympics gold medalist Mike fitts” Patrick reads next to a photo of you and Mike smiling as you showed off your huge

engagement ring. “She wasn’t bull shitting”

“Let me see” Art says grabbing the newspaper. “She didn't have on her engagement ring when we saw her...” Art trails off

“You can't be serious” Patrick laughs

“What?”

“She’s engaged Art, not to anyone either,” Patrick leaned in on the table so only he could hear. “she’s engaged Mike Fitts!”

“I didn't say anything,” Art defends

“ you don't have to” Patrick says stealing a fry off Arts plate plopping it in him mouth.

”I know you,”

~~~~~

After that day, everything seemed to blend together. Art and Patrick dedicated themselves to training you throughout the weekdays for three entire months until you got tired of it and decided on once a week. You told Mike you found a coach but never told him who. Since they were kinda the only people you knew in the entire school, the three of you grew close fast. You started going out to bars and parties together. you had your most memorable college moments with the two of them. And then, your birthday arrived. Patrick had left for some torment and it was just you and Art.

You two were just having so much fun that night. On thing led to another And before you realized it, the two of you were constantly having “fun together”. It didn't matter where - in the dorm, in the shower, or even on the floor. It was bad, but you two couldn't stop

Trying to clear your mind you Let out a sigh. you carefully remove Mike from your side sitting up to taking a sip of you're water on the nightstand. Trying to ignore the ache of your core. This is how you spent every night away from him, needy, uncomfortable. You heard a knock at the door which almost caused you to spill water on yourself. You Quickly put your drink down and run to answer it before the person could knock again careful to be quiet not to wake up Mike.

You swung the door open to find Art standing there, hair slightly damp, with huge smile on his face. "Are you out of your mind?" you whisper, stepping out of the room and shutting the door quietly behind you. You can't help but notice his thin athletic hoodie and gym shorts. Slightly wet clinging to his skin as if he just stepped out of the shower.

"It's past one ,"Art huffed out , his voice filled with urgency and desire as he leaned in for a kiss. his hand gently cradling the side of your face in the process.

When the realization of what was happening washed over you, you pulled away, but still stayed close enough to feel his breath against your skin. "Art," you breathed out, eyes darting down the hall to check if anyone saw. Your hand instinctively found its place on his strong chest, you savored the feeling and the look of your manicured nails there, not knowing when you be able to do it again.

"I like these," Art hummed, playing with the hem of your pajama shorts. He rolled the fabric between his fingers, his big hand gracing you thighs in the process. The little touch sent shivers down your spine. You somehow composed yourself pushing him away gently with your index finger, creating some distance between you two.

He looked at you with sad eyes like a rejected puppy. "Mike’s sleeping inside," you whisper, worried someone could hear. "What does that mean?"

There was a long pause as you carefully choose your next words. Art stared at you intently, trying to decipher your expression. "You slept with him?” Art asks, as if he already knew the answer.

"No, I didn't sleep with him!” You whisper yelled, “He just showered and fell asleep," you explained,

"What's bothering you then?"

"I feel guilty."

"You didn't feel guilty at Stanford."

"Mike wasn't at Stanford."

“You care about Mike's feelings now ?" Art's asks furrows his brow, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and hurt.

" I don’t know… he’s been nicer lately and were supposed to be married in three days”

“You’re actually thinking about going through with it?” Art asked the hurt now evident in his voice.

“There’s nothing I can do now, I signed contracts, this isn’t just about us anymore I’ve told you this”

“What about the private investors?”

"That's just a 'what if,' a perfect 'what if,' but we don't even know if he's seeing someone."

“ If I win tomorrow?”

“Art If you win are lose tomorrow it doesn’t change anything, my Dad expects me at the alter on Sunday regardless, nothings gonna change that”

“But you don’t love him ”

“ I could” your words come out more a question, maybe a hope. “I loved you?”

“You love me” Art corrects

"There's too much at stake now, Art. This is my father's career. We don't come from money, this is all he has."

“You honestly believe this will ruin his career?”

“It could” you reply with a small shrug your voice cracking slightly.

“It won’t” Art response

“You don’t know that”

“ Don’t do this ” Art whispered closing the small space between you. He sounded so tortured, like he was pleading with you.

you hadn't realize it but tears welled in your eyes Threatening to spill any moment. When You blinked an a tear fell down your cheek. Art tenderly brushed it away with his thumb. The stress of the last two weeks had finally caught up to you. “it wasn’t supposed to be this hard” you murmured, your voice barely audible, tears streaming down your face as Art wiped them away.

“Do you love me?” his questions sounded genuine but you knew, he already knew the answer. ”more than i’d like to” you joke, using the back of your hand to dry your eyes.

“Then let me make you feel better,” Art whispered leaning down so he was directly above your ear.

“You’re right about what you said earlier, Mike wasn’t there at Stanford”. He paused for a second moving a piece of your hair out the way, “I was,” he hummed brushing his face against yours “just me and you” he whispered leaving a trail of kisses on the outside of your earlobe down your neck. Causing Your breath catch in your throat .“We had fun right?” Art question, his voice deep and breathy causing you to instinctively press your legs together as you leaned back against the door. “Art” you mumble trying to shake the sexual haze that was swirling inside you.

“I missed you” he whispered his free hand slinking up the side of you short griping your thigh, hiking your leg up slightly. “So bad…All day”

“we can't” you manage to breathe out unconvisingly.

“I’ll beg,”

“Art” you warned

“I’ll do anything baby” he mumbles leaving slowly kisses on your neck. “Anything you want me to” he says kissing under your chin. “ I need you” he hums kissing down your neck, ”don’t you need me?” Art asked kissing below your ear. You don't respond giving small nodd biting the inside of your lip. “Can I hear it?” Art asked, the way his voice sounded so desperate, Damn near whiney had you looking for friction. ”I need you so fucking bad” you basically moan pushing your body against his.

“I love you so much you don't understand” Art said smiling against you cheek. sliding his free hand down the front of your shorts. He rubs his fingers through your folds collecting your wetness on his fingers. You throw your head back with a quiet moan, quickly biting your lip to silence yourself. “Fuck your so wet” Art groans before pulling his hand from your shorts, sucking his fingers clean like it was second nature. You clenched around nothing at the sight.

“I missed that taste” he groans returning his hand to your heat. “Can I make you cum right here” Art huffed out peeping down the hall.

"Yea,” you breathed out, nodding your head feverishly. He could have asked you to drive to the moon in that moment, and you would have said yes. Art slowly pushed two fingers inside of you creating a medium pace before bringing his thumb to rub your clit, you moan lifting your hips to meet his fingers. “Fuck I could eat you out right here” Art groaned watching you Practically fuck yourself on his fingers. “Promise me you won't ever let him see you like this” Art goans leaving kisses on your collar done. “this is mine”

”You can bearly hear a word he's saying the feeling of his thumb on your clit and finger damn near touching you cervix was too much to bear. “I’m gonna cum” you moaned out grabbing Arts shoulder hard in an effort to ground yourself. “I can feel it,” Art breathed pressing his forehead against yours. He presses down harder on your clit causing you to buck into his fingers, letting out a loud moan You cum. his movement don't falter, he continues to pump them in and out while still rubbing your clit until he feels like you've finally had enough.

he removes his fingers from your pussy returning them to his mouth. “I’ll never get tired of that” Art laughs leaning in for a kiss, you return it, taste yourself on his lips. He gently places you leg back on the floor and you stumbled slightly grading his shoulder for balance. He instantly goes to your waist holding you steady. “You ok?” Art ask slight consern on his face. You don't respond afraid of what your voice would sound like after an orgasm like that.

You nod with a smile and Art led you to the hotel room directly next to yours, pulling out a key card from his pocket with a grin.

“You didn't,” you exclaimed as he opened the door.

“I did,” he replied, motioning for you to enter.

“How did you even know our room number?” you ask, stepping inside.

“I have my ways,” he answered, closing the door behind you.

“How did you afford this?” you asked, looking around.

“Are you going to keep ask questioning or are you going to take of your clothes” Art laughs , watching as you sit on the bed.

“You first,” you countered, settling back .

“Yes ma’am,” Art chuckled, starting to undress.

~~~~

Morning arrives and you found yourself back in your original room. Mike was in the bathroom getting ready while you fix your dress in the mirror of the bedroom. As you adjust the straps, you notice a hickey you hadn't seen before, one you forgot to cover up after coming back last night. You laid your hair over it and walk towards the bathroom to retrieve your makeup bag, slightly tripping as your sore legs gave out on you. "You good?" Mike asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, I think I'm just sore from tennis practice," you say, reaching past him to get your makeup bag.

"You know no one expects you to play," Mike laughs while drying his hair with a towel. "I'm not doing it for anyone, I want to learn," your words come out more offended than you intended. "I just mean you could spend your time doing something else."

"Like what?" You respond plainly, walking out of the bathroom back to the mirror. "Like calling your dad and asking him what time he'll be here," Mike says from the now open bathroom. "Is your phone not working?" You asked rhetorically, pulling out your concealer . "I don't want to fight today, okay," Mike Replies sternly, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. "This is a big match," he mumbles while running his toothbrush under the water.

"I thought you said it was going to be 'nothing,'" you chuckle dryly, applying the concealer as his face was turned. "It is, but from what your Dad's been saying, he's been getting good. So I'd like to be on my A-game and not have you trying to start shit."

"Whatever you want honey" you respond, quietly laughing in disbelief. He had resorted right back to his old ways,How could you ever agree to marry someone like him, someone so vastly different from the man you spent the night with.

~~~~

soon as you and Mike were finished getting ready, your father called you to come downstairs to join him for breakfast. You and Mike both stood in line, slightly overdressed, picking out your favorite breakfast items. Mike only getting French toast, disregarding his strict diet. Suddenly, you heard a familiar laughter and turned around to see Art chatting with your father near the entrance. Your heart sank as your father motioned for you both to come over. After dropping off your plates, you and Mike walked towards them, feeling Mike's hand slip around your waist.

"I'd like you to meet someone," your father announced with a smile, putting his arm around Art's shoulder. "This is Art Donaldson," he introduced, "the man I'm competing against today." Mike stated extending his hand for a handshake, and Art reciprocated. Your stomach churned at the sight. "This is Mike, you know him, he's also my daughter's fiancé." Your father says with a smile.

"Stressful, huh?" Art jokes. "Oh, you have no idea," your Dad replies, laughing. "You're both at the same college, right? Stanford?" your Dad asked, nodding towards you. “maybe you could try your luck at training her because I just can't get through," your dad jokes. Art's eyes rake over you, as if looking at you for the first time. "It be my pleasure" Art smiles, looking directly at you. You to discreetly warn him with your eyes but You notice Mike's grip on your waist tighten, clearly not pleased. "Actually, I've been training y/n already, she's improving every day," Mike says, planting a quick kiss on your head.

"Really?" Art inquires, trying to keep up the act to the best of his abilities. "Monday through Friday," Mike replies with a smug grin. “How do you manage with your Busy schedule?” Art asks tilting his head to the side slightly in the process.

“You find time for the people you love,” Mike says with a fake smile. You had to physically hold back your laugh. But you played it off as wiping your face. He had taken a line straight from media training. Silence filled the air as the two have a silent conversation with their eyes.

“Well I wanted to introduce all of you, as I will officially be coaching Art starting next fall,"

Your Dad says in an attempt to break the tension. But it only makes it worse, Somehow Mike's grip on you tightened even more, now you were concerned he’d leave a bruise . "When did you make this decision?" Mike asked, his face showing no emotion but you could tell he was angry. "two weeks ago, and I've been waiting for the right moment to properly introduce you two. I know the timing is awkward with the match, but it's better to do it now than later."

Mike doesn’t say anything giving an expressionless nod. There was another awkward pause before you decided to speak up. "It was nice meeting you…Art?" you trail off , purposely sounding unsure. He nodded with a knowing smile. "But our food is getting cold," you joked, trying to escape the suffocating tension. "I wouldn't want to keep the couple from their food," Art said, while a smiling again only looking directly at you. You wanted to scream, he was being so obvious and the way Mike was already acting, you knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. "You two eat, I have to go handle some things, I won’t be long" your father said, gesturing for you and Mike to sit at the table before walking off with Art.

Once the two of you sit back at the table you feel caught. "I don't want you near that guy," Mike says, taking a sip of his coffee. You roll your eyes and stab at your scrambled eggs. “He was basically eye fucking you the whole time, and it doesn’t help that your dress is so tight”

“I think you forget sometimes this isn’t real,” you reply, taking a bite.

"Lower your voice," Mike warns, glancing around to see if anyone heard.

"You didn't care about it being real when you accepted the gifts," he scoffs, "or in Virginia."

"It was once, Mike. And every day, you make me regret it."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. You don't get to control me just because you buy me shit. Anyone can buy me shit."

“I told you i’m not doing this with you today” Mike laughs dryly standing up from the table. "I'll see you later, okay babe?" he says a bit louder, forcing a fake smile as he plants a kiss on your head before walking away. You try your best not to flinch when he touches you. Once he's gone, your phone buzzes, and you glance down to see an unsaved number. It's a text from Art.

“meet me at the restaurant next door in 20, alone.”

Author note : GUYS FEEL FREE TO COMMENT I LOVE READING COMMENTS

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